#Bruce's kids sneak out behind his back all the fucking time he has no control over them sometimes

[littlefankingdom]

I saw another post criticizing Bruce for having children fighting at his side, and I must say: tell me you don't know shit about the batkids' stories without telling me. Bruce fucking tried to stop those kids from being vigilantes, but they keep doing it behind his back, so he decided the best thing to do was to give them the proper training, an armor and to have them stick at his side so he can watch over them. You know, like a parent telling their underage children that they can drink alcohol but only at home where they can watch over them.

Dick became Robin because he wanted revenge over his parents' murder. He would run out in the street of Gotham as a 8 years old, all alone, to go fight Zucco. Bruce helping him make Robin was the compromise to keep Dick safe, because the child would not listen. (And yes, it wasn't the case in the very first canon, but it was like the 40s. Do you know how many kids fought against the Nazis in Europe at that time???)

Barbara Gordon is not his daughter and he has no authority on her being a vigilante. He cannot even ground her.

Jason became Robin after helping Bruce take down Ma Gunn's school. It is implied by Bruce, while talking to Dick, that he offered Robin to Jason as a way to gain a child because he missed having Dick around. He didn't need a Robin, he just missed having a kid. Bruce used the Robin mantle with Jason like people use churu to appease stray kitten. AND JASON'S DEATH, let's talk about it. Jason ran away, which leads to him being killed, after eavesdropping on Bruce and Alfred talking about Jason's mental health. Jason is benched as Robin, but not because Bruce thinks he killed someone like fandom says, but because Bruce knows it is not helping or healthy for Jason. They are talking about getting him help for his traumas and how violence is not helping Jason. And, when he is older and has healed, they can try again if he wants to. That's why Jason or people saying that Jason died because he was a soldier, or blaming Bruce for Robin's existence is false. When Jason died, Bruce was against Jason being Robin for his own health! And Jason knows that, he heard the discussion, he wasn't bench like how so many of his siblings are, with little to no honest explanation. Jason died in the Robin's costume because of his own stubbornness, not because of Bruce. (And that's not blaming Jason for his death. He is not to blame, but neither is Bruce. It's just about the Robin's colors. Jason would not have been wearing them at the time if he listened to Bruce.)

Tim Drake imposed himself as Robin. Bruce was against it, Tim literally went "Don't care, didn't ask". And Tim was already following them around before. Bruce already have Jason blaming him for making Tim Robin when he had no control over that.

Stephanie Brown became a vigilante before Batman knew her. He has tried SO MANY TIMES to make her stop, and so many fans hate that he did it. Make a choice, is it bad that he didn’t stop her more or that he didn’t let her more be a vigilante? He even got his kids to try to make her stop. AND SHE IS "KILLED" TO TEACH HIM THAT MAKING KIDS VIGILANTES IS BAD WHEN HE IS NOT RESPONSIBLE OF HER BECOMING ONE AND TRIED TO STOP HER! No shit the man blames himself for things that are not his fault, everyone does it.

Cassandra Cain was 17 when she becomes Batgirl, so I don't know if she counts. But when Bruce tries to make her stop for her own health, with the support of Barbara and Alfred, Cass is devastated and doesn't obey him. She puts on her costume and fights him physically.

Damian Wayne was trained as an assassin. In every version of him being introduced to Bruce, Bruce is against making him Robin and Damian keeps sneaking out. Damian wants to prove himself to his father so bad and refused to be kept away from the fight. In the comics, it's Dick, DICK, that makes him Robin when Bruce is gone, because Bruce was against letting Damian out at night.

Conclusion: Bruce is a tired father of a bunch of kids that cannot understand they should stay home at night and not be vigilantes.

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

Breaking down the comics: A good boy (issue 30)

Moon Knight, Issue #30: The Moonwraith, Three Sixes, and a Beast

(We've hit 1983 people!) 

PREVIOUSLY ON MOON KNIGHT! 

We get a title page that states: 

"WHAT HAS HAPPENED: 

   In the Omaha trainyards, Jack Russell - Cursed to become a werewolf under the influence of a full moon--Narrowly escapes capture by a satanic cult led by a man named Schuyler Belial. Belial-Who calls himself "Morning Star" --Orders his agents to follow Russell, last seen boarding an express train to New York. 

   A month passess. Moon Knight receives an urgent plea from Russell to meet him. Arriving at the rendezvous, a farmhouse in New Jersey, our hero learns that Russell has become the Werewolf again. He has also been found by Belial's cultists, who wound Moon Knight even as the Werewolf escapes them once more. 

    The following Morning, Moon Knight tracks Russell down and takes him home to Grant Mansion. He suspects that Belial has had a tracking device surgically implanted in Russel's skull, and examination by a doctor confirms his suspicions. It is too late to remove the device, however, because the Full Moon is about to rise again. 

    To control him during the night, Moon Knight straps Russell down. The Werewolf is stronger than expected, though, and breaks his bonds, then turns to face Marlene and Moon Knight with murder in his bestial eyes..." 

Welp, Moon Knight has a werewolf in his guest room. 

He tells Marlene to get the others to the basement while he figures out what to do about his friend. 

He tries to reason with the beast. 

He gets tossed out the window for his trouble. 

And now the beast is free. 

And in true Moon Knight fashion, he ends up on the ground in a crumpled heap. 

He’s doing great. 

The wolf dislikes the city in the rain. Seeking higher ground, he sits on a rooftop howling. 

Moon Knight finds him and sneaks up on him and sucker punches him in the face. 

The beast does not like this. 

Once more...

They hit the ground hard. 

"The water was hardly deep enough to cushion our fall, so we laid there until dawn." 

With dawn, Jack Russell is back. 

Passed out in the gutter next to Moon Knight, Belial's men find them. 

The men take them both just to be safe. 

It seems they finally have 'the beast of the apocalypse'. So all the followers of the good church of satan arrive out of LA. 

And Schuyler, Self proclaimed Morning Star, greets them all with a shackled Jack Russell and Moon Knight. 

It would seem Moon Knight is well known in these circles. (See Werewolf by Night for original context when we first met our beloved Moon Knight). 

While they are eager to see their foe destroyed, Schuyler has failed them enough times and all they see is "A kid and some geek dressed in a Moon Knight outfit--the kind you rent for halloween." 

Furthermore, Morning Star has decided that in order to further his power and beliefs, he needs to sacrifice the beast, convinced that the blood of the monster will transform him into a powerful supernatural being. He then intends to infect others until the apocalypse is unleashed. 

The congregation seems to think it might work so they head to the roof for preparations of the final day of the full moon. 

But first we have one of my ultimate favorite superhero gags. 

They want to know who hides behind the mask of Moon Knight. 

No one fucking knows who he is. 

If you REALLY think about it, Why would anyone outside of their direct circle of in people know who this guy is? Sure, Steven’s a millionaire, but he isn’t exactly Bruce Wayne about it. He’s just some rich guy that sometimes throws parties or attends business meetings. Jake Lockley is a cab driver in New York City. And Marc Spector doesn’t even really have an existence in present day America. And if you happen to know who Marc Spector is, the odds are that you probably don’t care about a secret Moon Knight identity and just want the man dead for the simple fact that he is Marc Spector. 

They move to return Moon Knight and Jack back to their cages. 

And unfortunately for them, Moon Knight wakes up before he gets there. 

He grabs Jack and makes a break for it. He calls for Frenchie and heads outside. 

(Moon Knight no.... Not in the chopper.) 

Up on the roof, the others are still getting their tour of the sacrificial altar when they're informed of the escape. 

He tells them to use the tracker implanted in Jack's head. They have to get to him before the moon rises. 

And then they look up and see the very unique and moon specific helicopter. 

Luckily they avoid getting blown out of the sky and head back to the mansion. 

Calling in the doctor, they manage to get the chip out. 

It's noon now and time is of the essence. 

In the meantime, Steven takes the chip and hides it in the mansion's game room. 

He changes to Moon Knight and waits. 

(Moon Knight no...not in the mansion)

And right on cue, we see the cultists heading back to the mansion. 

Jack is now recovering from his surgery and his rough night. Marlene helps him to...

"Help Marlene get him into Lockley's cab in the garage, but tell her to stay there. Not to move until she hears from me over the cab's radio through my cowl-mike." 

(Moon Knight no...not in the cab!) 

The trap is set and the cultists bust into the mansion. 

They wander into the game room only to find it empty with the homing device. Moon Knight springs his trap. 

Whalloping them on the head with a pool cue, he tells Marlene to beat it! 

(Moon Knight no…not in the diner.) 

Really Marlene? Did you need to bust through the garage door? Of course no one’s outside! These guys are idiots and only sent two dudes to pick up the werewolf! 

For the record, I fucking love Gena. 

"I still say he looks like an ordinary white boy to me." She closes her diner as they sneak Jack in. 

Next part of the plan? Marlene is going to hypnotize Jack. 

She asks Gena for her necklace with pendant. 

"Girl, this is a genuine pearl--not cultured, neither--so you just be real careful with it, hear?" (I love Gena) 

She tells him to see the pendant and think of the moon. 

He starts to change, fur growing in despite it only being 3. 

She stops the change. 

"This is just the moon in your imagination. Now, what does the full moon do to you?" 

"It...Changes me...Turns me into werewolf..." 

"That's right...It gives the werewolf life...and who is the werewolf?" 

"Me...I'm the werewolf..." 

"Then the Moon gives YOU life, doesn't it?" 

(And who's a good boy? That’s right! You are!) 

She directs his attention to Moon Knight, "the emissary of the moon. The spirit of the moon...The keeper of the moon's powers..." 

In essence, she's trying to get the werewolf to stop trying to kill Moon Knight. 

"Moon Knight is your friend." 

She returns the pearl to Gena, who is patiently waiting. Gena calls it Hoodoo as she checks her pearl over. 

Back at the cult, Morning Star gets a statick filld phone call saying that they got the beast despite Moon Knight's trouble. 

Who knew Frenchie could do a convincing American accent? 

Back at the diner, Jack enjoys a meal from Gena. 

"So, Moon Knight, you still making good bounties?" 

"I don't work for money anymore, Russell. Got enough to last me." 

"Just fighting crime out of the goodness of your heart?" 

"Something like that. How about you? Any closer to a cure?" 

"Nope...But at least the werewolf hasn't killed anyone innocent yet--and thank god he seems to prefer game flesh to....human." 

It's time for part two of the trap. 

Moon Knight dons a cultist robe and Jack plays dead. They head into the building and take Jack to the roof. 

Jack lays on the alter as the moon starts to rise and he starts to change. 

Just as Morning Star prepares to plunge his blade into the changing man, Moon Knight uses one of the stolen weapons to shoot the blade from his hands. 

"That's when Moon Knight blew his cover--at the last possible moment, no less-- by zapping the Silver Dagger out of Belial's hand. It had been some three inches from my heart." 

Moon Knight calls out to tell Russell it's time to act. 

The wolf springs up, unsure if it's acting because of Moon Knight or because of the cultists. 

"But I jumped into their ugly faces with relish nonetheless. After the chill of the stone altar on my back, I wanted to warm up fast--and did." 

The other cultists make the mistake of getting into a weird gun fight with Moon Knight, a man that knows his way around weapons. 

"I don't normally use guns of any kind--But then it's not every day that I have to save the world from the forces of Satan!" 

Only two of them? A werewolf and Moon Knight. Why shouldn’t these average middle aged men who chant all day be able to stop them? 

“Only two of us, all right…But WHAT A PAIR.” 

And then they bump into one another. Will the hypnosis have worked? 

“Nice Russell…Nice boy…” (He’s a good boy! Such a good boy!) 

It’s so nice to see them finally working together. 

And rip through their hated flesh he does. 

Belial makes a run for it and the wolf gives chase. 

It catches him easily. 

"He shrieked and gibbered, gaping at the beast of his own personal apocalypse. The sound only made my blood run hotter... And hotter still... Until I howled...and he screamed...And the hideous sounds became one." 

The wolf throws Morning Star off the roof. 

"Vengeance was mine, sayeth the werewolf...in a growl of supreme satisfaction." 

The other cultists open fire on the wolf and Moon Knight tells him to get out of there before he's hit. 

The Moon copter swoops in and drops the ladder. 

The cops have arrived below and are getting ready to storm the building. 

They just need to get the wolf out of there before more people show up. 

Moon Knight tells him to grab the ladder. 

"Grab it, Russell! Don't just stand there 'till they cut you down! Listen to me Russell...Grab it!!" 

"Finally, the werewolf felt a vague stir of recognition...A soft urging from a sweetly haunting voice deep within me. I clawed at the bottom ladder rung--ANd was swept off the roof, into the Moon-cursed night." 

Moon Knight yells to get Russell out of there as he continues to fight the cultists. 

Moon Knight dives off the roof and uses his cape to glide away. 

Blocks away, in the safe darkness of the city, the wolf drops to the streets and so does Moon Knight. 

"We faced each other for long moments, across the deserted street...I turned and sprinted lithely for the moon." 

Frenchie asks if Marc is going to give chase. 

"He's already gone, Frenchie-His future is in our hands now. And it's probably better this way. For a moment, I thought I might be able to keep him under control. 

...But Marlene's hypnotic spell can't last forever. ...And even though I hate to agree with Belial on ANY score...The werewolf is a beast. At least under the moon. And he simply craves his freedom too much to care about someone who kept hitting him over the head..." 

(LOL) 

"Moon Knight was wrong. Despite all our fights, the werewolf left with certain regret...Even if Moon Knight was also right about one thing... As a beast governed by no rules but my own, I was simply too stubborn about my freedom. 

I had to run through the deep night and see what the next shadow might hide. 

As for the trace of the human within me, it was all made easier by the fact that at least some people cared-And were maybe even praying I'd make it. 

So I howled, and within the howl there was a farewell to Moon Knight..Maybe forever." 

(I love the last page. It’s absolutely gorgeous.) 

And there we have it! Moon Knight and the Werewolf by Night! Together again! 

I love their dynamic! The former mercenary and bounty hunter, now a man out to protect people to make up for his monstrous deeds, and the man out to protect people from the monster he becomes. 

I also love how the story is told from Jack and the werewolf’s narrative. It gives voice to the wolf and lets you see it as a thinking feeling creature. I also love how the werewolf acknowledges Jack still inside him. Two separate but whole beings. 

A familiar struggle for control that Moon Knight readers have come to love. Perhaps this is why Moon Knight and the wolf do understand one another. Why Russell went looking for help from Moon Knight despite their sketchy past. 

After all, who else has dared to tangle with the beast SO-MANY-TIMES? 

If you are able, go read the OG comic that first introduces Moon Knight. The number of times they fight is comical. What Moon Knight went through just to capture him… At least you can’t call Moon Knight a quitter. 

And with that absolutely splendid final page, Bill Sienkiewicz bids his farewell to Moon Knight. 

At the end of this issue is also a "BULLPEN BULLETIN SPECIAL" which features an interview with Bill Sienkiewicz! 

Interviewer: Care to tell the fans how your name is pronounced?

Bill: Bill.

Interviewer: So it's going to be that kind of interview, eh? Okay, Mr. Sin-Keh'-vitch. 

[....]

Bill: After the story in issue #26, "Hit it", I was ready to move on. I felt that I'd climbed as high as I could with MK, for now. I knew I couldn't sustain it. I could talk for hours about it and the whole national problem of child abuse...And the art, how I was trying to express music, jazz, rhythm visually on paper... I felt it worked.

With this, our buddy Bill departs. Kevin Nowlan will be taking over for the next several issues. 

Thank you Bill for your work in helping to give Moon Knight his face and often shapeless cat like splats on the ground. 

Every special appearance of him in Moon Knight after is always a cherished treasure. 

[faintblueivy]

So Imagine...

A world where Bruce Wayne died as a child in that alley that day, Martha and Thomas Wayne grieve as normal parents. They DO NOT BECOME BATMAN AND JOKER. 

Nothing ever remains the same after losing their little boy. So, Thomas buries himself in his work and Martha drowns herself in depression and pain. They do therapy and it works a little and life becomes bearable but...not happy.

One day, Alfred badgers the couple to go out and relax a little and buys them tickets for a circus - Haly’s circus. Everything was going nice and dandy and Martha was in awe of this little acrobat as much as the rest of the crowd when suddenly the rope snaps and the boy’s parents fall to their deaths - right in front of him and the gathering. Thomas is quick to jump in to see if he could help them in any way but Martha can see it in his eyes that they are as dead as they can be. 

They return to home with heavy hearts and Martha can’t get the image of the little boy out of her head. His skin was a light shade of bronze but his dark hair and bright cerulean blue eyes reminded her so much of Bruce that her heart wouldn’t rest. So a few days later she uses her connections to know if the child is safe and well cared for, when to her immense horror, she is replied that he was shipped to Gotham Juvie due to the lack of foster homes. She is enraged.

She calls Thomas and Alfred and lets them know about the little acrobat’s situation and declares that she was going to adopt him. They hesitate a little but she is not to be deterred as she goes ahead and brings the little boy home. 

Richard John Grayson - Wayne. Or Dick, as he likes to call himself. 

He is adamant that he wants no parents and Martha is fine because not only that she is old enough to be not his mother but also because no child can ever be her Bruce.

“You can just call me Grandma then.” She tells him.

His eyes are wide but he nods and then smiles and Martha, in a long while, has never felt this happy. 

Her new Grandson, despite losing his parents, is a ray of sunshine with unlimited supply of energy and the cold and empty manor is warm and happy again. 

Dick is a little charmer and even after Thomas and Alfred’s initial reluctance, they immediately fall in love with the boy and one day, when Martha comes down to the morning breakfast, she hears a happy, deep rumble - one she has not heard in many years. Thomas is laughing. 

There on the dining table, seated beside Dick, was Thomas laughing. Her eyes water at the scene and Alfred, who is standing beside her offers her a handkerchief. None of them mention how his own eyes are wet too.

 ...

Dick is sixteen, a brilliant boy in academics as much as they disinterest him but an invincible athlete. Martha has been told time and time again that her grandson is undoubtedly a international level gymnast. But he is a teenager.

And teenagers steal their grandparent’s ‘coolest’ car and rush off into the night. But they don’t come back with a little battered and bruised, homeless kid tucked under their arm.

“He had jacked three tires off your car. When I confronted him, he tried to hit me with a tire iron.” He says, amused, as Thomas tries to convince the child to show him his injuries.

“I didn’t do nothin’! He’s a fuckin’ big boob liar!” They boy screams, his blue green eyes glaring daggers at Dick.

“Language.” Both her and Alfred warn simultaneously.

After hours of struggle, interrogation and fuck you’s, Martha learns that the child’s name is Jason. He is twelve. Mother died form drug overdosing and Dad is a petty henchman of some crime lord. He ran away from multiple foster homes because they are so abusive that the child feels safer on streets. 

Martha goes on a rampage over Gotham’s foster care after that. She did not donate millions of dollars annually for children to feel safer on streets. After of lot of talks and reassurances and promises, Martha acquires her second grandchild.

Jason Peter Todd - Wayne. 

Jason is tiny. Malnourished like Leslie said. But he is sharp, observant and hungry for knowledge. Martha and Alfred joke that Jason is Thomas' soul child. Where Dick had loved activity and movement, Jason liked quiet and stability - Martha thinks that running and fighting for survival on streets every single day does that you. So evenings often found her and Dick in the garden but Thomas and Jason in the library pouring over as many books as they can.

And to nobody's surprise, despite their rocky start, the boys become inseparable. They are outwardly different, with clashing interests and behaviors but Martha can see that they both carry the same cores of light.  

When the morning of Dick’s Parent’s death anniversary comes around, both her and Thomas find Jason on Dick’s bed, arms curled protectively around his big brother. For the first time in so many years, Dick wakes up to warmth surrounding him, not nightmares. 

...

Both her grandsons attend Gotham Academy so when she receives a phone call from the Principal, she is half surprised and half not. When she enters the Principal’s office, both her boys are standing on one side, Jason with his head hung in shame and Dick glaring daggers at the other side. The boy who seems to be injured is being coddled by his mother who is shooting nasty glares at her grandchildren periodically. 

Then she notices another small boy standing beside her boys, trying to melt into the wall.

Tim Drake. The only son of Jack and Janet Drake of Drake Industries.    

She arches a questioning eyebrow at Dick who shakes his head and then she turns to the Principal. 

“What happened here?”

“Glad to see you’re here Mrs. Wayne.” The Principal says, pushing his glasses up his nose, “I regret to inform you that your ward Jason Peter Todd attacked this young man here.” He gestures to the other boy. 

“Madam, Gotham Academy is a prestigious school and we do not encourage physical violence here. Yes, it might have been acceptable from where he came from but it won’t be, here. I hope you give us the right to punish Mr. Todd here appropriately.” 

Martha inwardly bristles at the jab at her grandson and says crisply, “Mr. Wayne.”

“What?”

“He’s not just Todd. He is a Wayne. Please remember that.”

“Principal Sir.” Dick cuts in and Martha is confused because as hyperactive as Dick is, he is a mannerly child and knows better than to cut in a conversation like this but what draws her attention is the chilling tone which Dick almost never uses. Dick continues, “Why don’t you tell our grandmother more of your regrets? Or the prestigious Gotham Academy believes that bullying is acceptable.” 

Martha has been told what she needs to know. 

“Jason?” she calls out to her youngest grandson softly, “What happened?”

Jason is quiet when suddenly Tim Drake moves forward. She can see he is scared the way his hands shake but determination shines in his blue eyes. She likes him.

“I want to say something.”

He narrates the tale of how he was being bullied and how the boy on the other side with his mother threw his science project model away and broke it and physically tried to attack him when Jason stepped in to save him. Martha felt nothing but pride at Jason’s righteous indignation. 

Tim also explained that Jason exercised immense control even after these bullies called him ‘street rat’, but the verbal spar intensified after Dick was insulted for his Romani heritage, but it came to fist fight after Thomas and Martha were insulted, and Bruce’s death was made fun of.

Her gaze snaps to the other three occupants of the room and they are all in various shades of pale. Apparently, the Principal had not done his homework.

“Principal” She says icily, “Yes, I give you the authority to punish Jason appropriately but only when this young man here”, she gestures to the boy who was now cowering behind his mother, “Is dealt with in the same way.”

After threatening the Principal in soft words but harsh tone about not tolerating to having her grandsons bullied the next time, she grabs Jason’s hand to drag him away from these people who don’t deserve his company, when her eyes fall on the little trembling Tim. 

She offers him her hand.

He stares at it, shocked but after an encouraging smile from Dick and a small shove from Jason, he takes it shyly.

And since that day, Tim becomes a member of Martha’s family. The boys stay together so much that even Thomas forgets that Tim is not theirs. 

Tim’s upbringing sends Martha’s grandmother instincts on a haywire and she resents the Drakes for their criminal neglect towards Tim. 

It is rewarding that Tim flourishes in their attention. 

She learns that his hobby is Photography and he is excellent at it. And he is a genius when it comes to science, computers and gadgets. He likes crime thrillers movies and books and often picks them apart with his scarily good knowledge about forensics that leave the rest of the family in awe and slightly disturbed. 

The dam breaks when one day Jason and Dick return back from school telling her that Tim was absent today and they are worried about him. When they later sneak into the Drake mansion in the evening, Thomas receives a frantic call from their oldest grandchild that Tim was burning with fever. Because Thomas is a doctor, they save Tim before anything serious happens.

This time, it is Thomas who sues the Drakes for Tim’s custody after him and Jason had, had enough of ‘Timbo’s shitty parents’.

“Timothy?” Martha brushes his sweat soaked forehead gently. “Would you like to be a member of our family legally?"

Tim is hesitant about this but he admits that he likes Wayne manor much better than he ever liked Drake mansion. He confesses that he loves Jason and Dick as brothers and sees Martha, Thomas and Alfred as his grandparents as well.

The long custody battle ends with both Jack and Janet Drake dying at the hands of two different tragedies, leaving Tim an orphan, but also with a loving family consisting of three grandparents and two brothers by his side. 

Timothy Jackson Drake - Wayne is adopted into the Wayne family as her and Thomas’ third grandson.

...

A year after they adopt Tim, Thomas comes home with a small girl on his side. She is clearly an east Asian in heritage with dark hair and dark eyes and is speech deprived. Thomas is clearly distressed after Cassandra - her name is Cassandra - is safely secured in warm bed in a nice room across Jason’s. He calls her, the three boys and Alfred to his study to explain about the small girl. 

He talks about how Gordon brought the girl to him and after hours of wordless, signed and clumsily sketched on paper conversations with the little girl they were able to determine that Cassandra was hiding from her father who was an assassin and wanted to drag the little girl down the same path before she ran away. The more he talks about the damage and abuse the girl had experienced at the hands on her own father, the more furious Martha becomes. When Thomas’ explanations ends, Jason slams a punch into the wall making a dent but no one has the heart to reprimand him for that. 

The following morning, Martha can see that her three boys have unanimously decided that they are adopting Cassandra as their sister. She is treated like a Princess, and given the nick name ‘Cass’. 

Slowly but surely, Cass learns what it means to love through Dick’s bright kindness, Jason’s quiet protection and Tim’s infinite patience. After her father is finally apprehended, the family celebrates.

Cassandra Wayne, soon after, becomes the beloved Wayne Princess of Gotham. 

Martha and Thomas often accompany their only granddaughter to her speech therapy lessons, so after six months of her adoption, at dinner, she places a kiss on everyone’s forehead - her three brothers and three grandparents, stands at the head of the table and croaks out, slowly, “Thank...thank you.” All of them stare at her flabbergasted, but it appears that she was planning to shock them even more.

“You...Love. Love you...”

The silence that follows her broken but sure words is deafening. Surprisingly it is Tim who breaks it as he scrambles out of his chair and launches himself at Cass, wrapping his arms around her and both Jason and Dick follow him, grabbing both their youngest siblings fiercely.

A quiet sob breaks her out of the trance and she smiles when she watches Thomas furiously wiping his tears from the sleeve of his shirt. The last time he     had cried was at Bruce’s funeral. And Martha is infinitely grateful that this time these are happy tears. 

...

Sometimes Martha wonders what would have happened if Bruce had lived. If these children are her grandchildren then does that mean they are Bruce’s kids? Had Bruce lived, would he have accepted these gaggle of kids that her and Thomas have collected over the years as his own? Would he have kids of his own? 

Her questions are answered when one day she hears a slight commotion in the entrance is surprised to see a young woman with a sword threatening Alfred.

“I want to meet the Master of this house. Let them know immediately.” She demands in an authoritative but silky voice, and Martha suddenly sees the Toddler clutched in her arm. 

“What is it?” Martha speaks as soon as she can when the woman notices her. She looks surprised for a second but immediately schools her features as the baby fusses.

“You’re alive.” She whispers and before any of them could make an indignant comment about her wordings, she says, “It appears that I might have traveled in to the wrong universe.”

Now that is interesting. Martha lives in a world where they are protected by aliens...so, it is certainly worth hearing for. 

Martha offers the young lady an invitation for tea which she accepts. She notices how the woman carries herself with lethal grace and dignity as if she was a Princess but much more. As they sit and Alfred leaves to bring the promised team Martha notices how the woman’s eyes sweep over the place. 

“How may I help you?”

Her voice attracts the attention of the toddler and this time, he is not clutched tightly enough to his mother’s chest to turn his small head and look at her. Martha gasps. Because the child looks too much like Toddler Bruce. But instead of the blue eyes like her son, this child has glowing green ones, like his mother. But still, the resemblance is uncanny. 

“Yes, he is your son’s.” The woman answers the unasked question.

She is explained the existence of Multiverse, and it’s workings and how Bruce survived instead of them in that world, met Talia (the woman’s name is Talia Al Ghul) and had a child but had to leave. Talia mentions the reason she came here was because her son’s life was in danger and Talia’s father wanted to raise her son as an assassin Prince and a tool for him to use. Talia’s solution to protect her son was for her to give her son to the Bruce of this world to raise, since the Bruce of that world had gone missing.   

“I can raise him.” Martha suddenly declares and the woman looks at him shocked. “I will not raise him into a life of violence but I can certainly protect him and give him a happy civilian life.”

Talia looks unsure, hesitant, but says, “I...have been a warrior since the day I can remember. Never once have I ever thought of my son not being a warrior. He was...born to be one.” 

Martha smiles. “He doesn’t have to be one. Yes, his life will be infinitely different than the one you imagined but...he will be well loved and protected. I can assure you of that.”

“Damian.” Talia whispers as he deposits the baby in her arms after a lot of consideration. “His name is Damian.”

She looks at her son tenderly one last time and places a kiss on his forehead and Martha’s heart breaks a little for the young mother. 

“Will you return back for him?” Martha asks as she follows the Talia to the door.

“No.” Talia whispers, her voice strained. “I will not. Any action taken by me is monitored by my father closely. If I return back, then he might know that I have left Damian here and I cannot let that happen. He is yours, forever.”

Martha gives her a sad smile. “You’re a brave and good mother Talia. Thank you for doing what is best for your son.”

She nods, not turning to look at Damian one last time as she leaves the manor grounds, never to return. 

Martha looks at the baby secure in her arms and her lips quirk up into a grin at the sight of two curious green eyes watching her with interest. 

“Welcome to the family, little Damian.”

When she introduces the new addition to the family, Thomas is dumbfounded. Dick is ecstatic at the prospect of having a new baby brother, Jason is secretly pleased, Cass is happiest and Tim looks unsure.

That’s how Damian Wayne - Al Ghul joins the family.

Damian fits in their home spectacularly. After few days of hesitation, like he had with Dick, Thomas takes to Damian quickly. He has an epic competition going on with their eldest grandson to become the baby’s favorite. Damian refuses to sleep without Thomas but his tantrums are only controlled and won over by Dick. Damian loves Jason manhandling him and giggles happily when the older boy throws him in the air or swings him around. Damian loves Cassandra because she knows what he wants before any of them do. And Cass loves to carry her little brother around to watch birds and animals in the manor grounds.

The only person Damian seems to not get along with is Tim and the older boy seems not be fond of him either. Because Damian wants everything Tim does and the older brother has to compromise for Damian every time. But Martha has to bite laughs a lot now a days because almost everytime Damian falls asleep, it is with Tim in vicinity. And she has caught the older boy tenderly covering Damian in his favorite blanket more often than not. Martha thinks that this is kind of cute but keeps her opinion to herself. 

Her little grandson is quite protective of his siblings though. Anytime someone upsets any of his siblings, they are threatened with scowls, growls and even bites and stabbings in extreme cases.

Like last time when Mrs. Park made fun of Cassandra’s  speech impairment, Damian almost bit her finger off. Damian hates one of Dick’s racist colleague (they all do) so much that anytime the man enters his field of vision, the first thing Damian gets his hand on is thrown at the guy’s head. With deadly precision. And last time when Mr. Link had called Jason ‘street rat’ for personally volunteering charity work for poor and homeless, Damian had smeared his juice and drool covered hands on the Man’s thousand dollars suit. And when one time, a reporter had infiltrated a Gala and chased Tim around to ask uncomfortable questions about his parent’s death and the Wayne’s involvement in it, Damian, noticing Tim’s distress had stabbed the reporter with a fork with no hesitation. 

Martha is still not sure if she should encourage or reprimand Damian for that.

...

As she sits on the head of the table with Thomas on her side and Alfred on the other end, she wonders how miraculous it is for her to have all these children in her life. 

Dick is engaged in an animated conversation with Stephanie who was introduced to the family as Tim’s girlfriend. Barbara, the daughter of James Gordon and Dick’s girlfirend/or not was helping Cass pile up food on her plate. Damian and Tim were bickering over something as usual but Jason trying to hide his snickers in guise of drinking water which made Martha sure that the something was Jason’s doing.

These people were her family. The ones she had gained after losing Bruce. She wonders, if there was a universe where Bruce got to meet her grandchildren. 

Would he accept them? As family? 

Would he love them? As family? 

She brightly smiles when the multiple sets of eyes turn to her waiting for her to blow the candle.

“Happy Birthday Martha.”

Thomas says warmly, his voice thick with emotion and she meets his gaze and sees the love, affection and thankfulness in his eyes for this family that they had created after their earth shattering loss. She knows what she wants as she blows the candle on the cake flickering in front of her.

I wish for us to be family in every universe.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

This Game of Yours

Father of Mine – Part 1 and Part 2

Jason was beautiful.

And somehow that scar that went from the right corner of his mouth up to his temple only made him that much more beautiful to Y/N.

Those blue eyes were the same color of water on a stormy day in the Irish sea. And somehow Y/N knew they held the same tempestuousness.

The white streak weaved with his jet black hair so naturally that Y/N would’ve believed he was born with it.

His shoulders were so broad, making his 6’3 height feel even more imposing. He had a presence. People noticed every time he walked into a room. It made Y/N wonder how he was ever able to sneak up on people as Red Hood.

He was wearing a black hoodie underneath his black moto jacket.

Y/N knew Jason didn’t give a shit about fashion. Yet he was well-dressed without any effort – more so than most of the models Y/N had shot throughout her career.

Not being able to control herself any longer, Y/N raised her camera and took a photo.

Jason stopped surveying their surroundings and his gaze snapped to her.

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

But his growl didn’t scare her in the slightest.

“Anyone who’s by me when I have a camera is at risk of getting their picture taken. No one is safe. Not even you,” she answered his question unapologetically.

Y/N was working on a personal passion project for her next show. Her collection would be about the poverty and crime of Gotham. Half of the photos would show the heaviest crime areas of the city. And the other half would expose the lifestyles of the wealthiest people in Gotham.

Why did so many suffer from the same system that helped the rich get even richer?

When Bruce found out Y/N was going to Crime Alley and the Bowery by herself, he was visibly upset.

But he realized that Y/N would do as she pleased, so his plan b was to give her protective detail.

However, Y/N didn’t know that Jason had volunteered, almost immediately.

Instead, all she heard was Jason grimly telling her, “You’re lucky you haven’t been fucking murdered yet.”

She had only responded with a roll of her eyes.

“I’m not your escort so you can take my picture. I’m here so you don’t get raped or murdered.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a way with words?”

His only response was a glare.

Jason loved playing this game. The game of pretending to be irritated with her when actually he was absolutely infatuated with Y/F/N Y/L/N.

“The easiest way to stop getting your picture taken is to always be the one holding the camera,” Y/N added with a smirk and wink.

Jason didn’t answer, only thinking what a shame it was that no one got to photograph her.

Suddenly, the sunlight hit the top of his head perfectly, creating a halo around that thick and messy hair of his.

Y/N snapped another photo.

“Will you stop?” He warned.

It only succeeded in making her laugh.

And that just excited his heart even more.

“Jason, you were born to get your photo taken.” 

There was no joke underneath her words, only sincerity.

“Whatever,” he mumbled.

Jason had a hard time believing that. His skin was riddled with scars. And he was convinced that she’d be singing a different song if she saw his chest, with its thick autopsy scar amongst the so many others. The absolute last word he’d use to describe himself was beautiful. Strong and imposing? Yes. But never beautiful – or any other positive adjective, for that matter.

“I’m not kidding. If you ever want to stop the whole vigilante thing, you can easily become a model.”

Y/N had noticed it as soon as Jason took of his helmet that night. His domino mask had done nothing to prevent her from noting the obvious.

It didn’t take long for Y/N to realize Jason wasn’t like his “brothers.”

“Brothers.” What a strange word.

Should she consider all of them as hers?

Only Damian was actually related to her – and technically he was only her half-brother.

Y/N had watched Jason get on his motorcycle and leave the cave that night she’d almost died.

She’d agreed to stay for dinner and get to know everyone. And a part of her brain was excited to get a better read on the masked man that sat by her bedside as she’d recovered.

“He’s not staying?” Y/N had asked Bruce as he guided her to the stairs that led back up to the manor.

He only shook his head, but she noticed the disappointed expression.

Soon she found out that Jason was the black sheep of this strange family that had taken her in.

Dick was the one who told her about Jason’s dark past. All of it seemed unbelievable: murdered by Joker and brought back to life from a mysterious pit. Only to return to the family who appeared to have replaced him and never sought vengeance on Jason’s behalf. 

But it was true; Y/N had seen no lie in Dick’s eyes when he filled her in.

Suddenly there was yelling coming from around the corner.

Without hesitation, Jason shoved Y/N behind him.

He reached for one of his guns and then realized that he didn’t have any.

Y/N was rather vocal about hating them, claiming they made her extremely uncomfortable.

Her expression alone as she said it was enough for Jason to swallow his stubbornness and leave the things at home.

Bruce was rather taken aback by the gesture. Nothing he’d ever said was enough to get Jason to do that.

A gang of young men came marching around the corner like they owned the place…because they did. This was their territory.

Jason immediately recognized them as some of the Russian mob.

Despite pulling Y/N behind him, they still caught sight of her and looked her up and down without an ounce of shame.

“Hey, beautiful. How you doing?”

“Продолжай идти, придурки,” Jason growled at them.

He was outnumbered. But there must’ve been something about his body language that made the gang realize they shouldn’t pick a fight with him. Maybe it was the muscles or his height or that he looked like he wouldn’t even blink before murdering them.

So they just…walked away. Some of them mumbled threats or insults at him. But they realized they shouldn’t even so much as look at Y/N.

A split second before they were gone, Y/N took a picture of Jason.

“Really?” He asked.

She shrugged. “You look like a different person when you’re protective.”

Y/N was beautiful.

Jason watched as she passionately explained her work to a potential buyer.

He recognized the man as a local politician – luckily, one of the few that hadn’t been corrupted from this shitty city.

Y/N had the intimidating energy of her father, but the kind eyes of her mother. At least, that was what Bruce had told everyone, and they all took his word for it.

She wore a stylish white jumpsuit that made her look like a 1980s villain and black stiletto heels. 

Jason watched as men cowered in her presence, hating the fact that she proudly stood taller than them. She was just one less woman they could intimidate or manipulate – and they couldn’t stand it.

But Jason loved watching the emasculation in real time.

The bastards didn’t deserve her anyway.

Dick was one of the very few men Jason knew who didn’t blink at a woman towering over him. In fact, his older brother had a track record of preferring it.

“Surprised to see you here,” Bruce said beside him, catching Jason watching Y/N.

“Well, I was her personal bodyguard through all this. Figured I should see if it was worth me wasting my time or not.” Then he tossed back his champagne and slammed it on the tray of a waiter passing by. “Plus, free alcohol.”

Bruce just quirked an eyebrow, silently telling Jason that he knew he was lying.

“Are you buying something?” Jason asked, trying to change the subject.

“I have been strictly forbidden,” Bruce sighed.

Jason chuckled.

He knew if Bruce had his way, he’d buy every single on of Y/N’s pieces.

“I have to know,” Bruce began. “What exactly is holding you back?”

Jason finally ripped his gaze away from Y/N to give Bruce a questioning look.

“What are you talking about?”

“Y/N. You care about her.”

“All of us do,” Jason brushed off. “Even the demon spawn.”

Bruce knew there wasn’t a chance Jason would admit his feelings – especially to him.

“Not that I think you care…but you have my approval.”

Little did Bruce know, Jason did care.

Jason had convinced himself that their rocky relationship and past fights meant that Bruce would die before he let Jason be anywhere near his daughter.

And Jason could hardly blame him.

He didn’t deserve to be loved. He lost that right after he died and came back a monster. And that was the story Jason told himself over and over again.

So he would love Y/N from afar. And hope she would pick someone who was worthy of her love.

“She’s basically my sister,” Jason groaned in fake disgust.

It was quite the performance.

Bruce narrowed his eyes. “We both know that isn’t what’s stopping you. And you’ve made it clear you don’t consider us your family.”

“Whatever, Bruce.”

Jason walked away, having enough of the subject.

“What was that about?” Clark asked as he joined Bruce’s side.

“Jason refusing to let himself be happy,” Bruce sighed.

Clark already knew what Bruce was talking about. He’d seen Y/N and Jason dancing around each other for months now. He’d never really seen Y/N take an interest in anyone before, so it was all new for Clark.

“Don’t worry. Y/N won’t let him get away with it for much longer,” Clark said through a smirk. “She gets what she wants.”

And Bruce believed him.

“It doesn’t bother you – the two of them together?” Clark asked with genuine curiosity.

“Jason reminds me every day that I’m not his father. And I’m hardly Y/N’s.” A soft smile formed on Bruce’s lips. “He’ll look after her. And she…I think she’d be good for him. I just want them to be happy. Both of them.”

——

Jason headed home rather early.

He’d never actually went to say congratulations or even hello to Y/N.

Every time he was about to go over, someone else stole her attention. He didn’t want to get in the way of her talking to potential buyers or even just friends.

Jason was just about to make himself something to eat when there was a knock at his door.

He froze.

Very few people knew where his apartment was.

Jason grabbed a gun and tiptoed to his front door.

With a peak through the peephole, he let out a irritated sigh.

Jason whipped the door open, “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot your head off.”

“Maybe don’t own guns and you wouldn’t have to worry about shit like that,” Y/N snapped back.

“What are you doing here?”

“You come to my gallery opening and don’t even say hi?” Y/N accused as she stepped around him and into the apartment, not waiting for an invitation.

Jason eyed the paper bag that was in one of her hands.

“By all means, come on in,” he called sarcastically as he slammed the door behind her.

Y/N started searching through his cabinets. “Where are your glasses?”

“The one to your right. What are you doing here?”

Y/N had the brightest and almost mischievous smile as she pulled a bottle of champagne from the paper bag.

“I brought this as my thanks for you making sure I don’t – and I quote – ‘get raped and murdered.’”

Jason glared at her.

Here was the game again.

Y/N being charming and hilariously provoking..and Jason pretending like he hadn’t fallen for her.

She poured them both a glass. They weren’t flutes or coupes, but she couldn’t care less.

“We’re chugging these, by the way,” Y/N informed Jason as she handed him a glass.

He sighed, but obediently clinked his glass with hers and tossed it back.

Barely giving them a second, Y/N immediately refilled them.

“So, why didn’t you come over and say hi?” She repeated.

“Didn’t want to bother you,” Jason mumbled with a shrug.

She narrowed her eyes at his answer. “You’ve never bothered me before, Jason.”

Now he felt guilty.

Jason bowed his head. “I should’ve come and talked to you,” he agreed. “Your work…it looked – it’s amazing, Y/N. Congratulations.”

Apparently Y/N hadn’t expected such a sincere compliment from him, and she was stunned to silence.

“Thank you,” she managed to whisper once she’d recovered.

She cleared her throat, trying to maintain her edge. “And really…thank you for being my own little security detail.”

If Jason was healthy about expressing is thoughts and feelings, he would’ve told her that it was the highlight of his weeks. That he looked forward to her calls or texts, telling him that she was going to photograph another shady area. “Be there or don’t. I’m going no matter what,” she’d text him with her usual snark.

But Jason didn’t express his thoughts and feelings.

He kept them bottled up – with the same energy he used to keep Y/N at a distance.

So instead, Jason said, “If it wasn’t me, one of the others would’ve done it.”

Y/N winced slightly at that.

‘You’re such a fucking asshole,’ Jason told himself.

“You know…we can see each other even you’re not my bodyguard.”

Jason was impressed by her boldness. But she didn’t know what she was doing. She didn’t understand that he wasn’t good. He couldn’t play the loving boyfriend role. She belonged with someone like Dick or Clark – or literally anyone but him. And Jason was willing to be an asshole to make sure she understood that.

Y/N took a step closer to him, invading his personal space.

Without breaking eye contact, she threw back her second glass of champagne and then placed it on the nearest counter space.

She stepped even closer.

This was simultaneously Jason’s worst nightmare and most desired dream.

Her eyes moved from his eyes to his lips.

But before she could make her final push, Jason took a step back and cleared his throat.

He looked down at the ground as he said, “You should go.”

When he looked up, he expected to find Y/N heartbroken or embarrassed.

But she was neither.

No. She looked irritated.

Not because she wasn’t getting what she wanted, but because she was sick of his games.

Y/N sighed and stepped back. “Fine.”

Jason rubbed his face in frustration as she grabbed her purse and started for the door she had walked through only minutes ago.

She opened it and paused.

“You know what? No. Fuck that,” Y/N snapped before slamming the door closed.

She whipped around and strutted back to him with purpose.

Jason was suspended with both fervor and awe.

Y/N grabbed his face and pulled him down to her lips.

All self control went out the window. Jason couldn’t continue his game. It was all over for him.

He kissed her back almost immediately. How could he not?

Y/N bit his lip slightly, making him hiss in surprise. It was his punishment for making her wait all this time.

Eventually they needed a moment to breathe.

But Y/N didn’t let go of his face when their lips finally parted.

“Choose your next words very carefully,” she breathed.

He swallowed nervously. “You’re kind of fucking terrifying. You know that?”

Her smile was pure evil.

Apparently this was the right response.

“Are you done being an idiot?” She asked.

He nodded quickly.

Her hands moved down and then lingered on his neck, tracing the bottom lines of his jaw.

She smiled again and then looked him up and down.

“What?” He questioned.

“Nothing,” she laughed. “I’m just…I’m not used to being shorter than men.”

“Is that the only reason you like me? Huh? My height?” Jason goaded.

“Of course not,” Y/N scoffed. “It was the whole ‘I look like I could murder everyone and I can, but deep down I’m a big softie’ that did it for me.”

Jason’s grip tightened on her waist. “Oh, yeah? You’re one to talk…”

“Me?!” She yelped. “I couldn’t kill anyone, even if my life depended on it.”

“Maybe. But your terrifying in basically every other way.”

Y/N laughed at that.

Jason couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the sound

“So…still want me to leave?” She asked.

And this time, she would if that’s really what he wanted.

“Fuck no,” Jason answered, almost threateningly.

Then, for good measure, he picked her up by the back of her thighs and carried her to the couch, before he started to kiss her once again.

Y/N knew things weren’t always going to be this simple.

Jason had his demons. 

And honestly, so did she. They were nothing like his. And maybe they were silly in comparison. But she wouldn’t be the perfect partner. Just like he wouldn’t be. 

They’d drive each other crazy. But it would be the good kind of crazy.

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

+ Childhood

[rebeccccccaaa]

ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀ ɴᴇʀᴅ ⓟⓐⓡⓣ ②

_________________________

ғʀᴀᴛʙᴏʏ!ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ ʙᴀʀɴᴇs x sʜʏ-ɪsʜ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀᴜ (ɪɴᴇxᴘᴇʀɪᴇɴᴄᴇᴅ ɪ ɢᴜᴇss)

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: (two part series!) You’re starting to struggle in class and decide to ask your professor for some tutoring or extra classes to boost your  grade. He ends up assigning the last person you’d expect to tutor you. (is it really a surprise though?)

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: cw: talking about a car accident and infertility

smut 18+  (praise kink, dirty talk, oral fem receiving, hair pulling, marking, choking, slight spanking if you squint, slight bondage), major aftercare, fluff? This is pretty filthy lmao. 

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 𝟺.𝟹 ᴋ (ɪ ᴀᴍ sᴏᴏᴏᴏᴏ sᴏʀʀʏ ᴛʜɪs ɪs sᴏᴏᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ!)

ᴀ/ɴ: Thank you so much for all the love in the last part! I was truly expecting maybe about 20 likes but so far its gotten over 100! Thank you for being so nice to me on my first ever post and hope you enjoy part 2!

__________________________

For the next two or so weeks you avoid Bucky like the bubonic plague. You didn’t exactly hate the fact that he kissed, but he was your tutor. Isn’t that inappropriate? Let alone him being a part of a frat house. It wouldn’t be a good mix.

One good thing though is that your overall grade in class has gone up since your tutor sessions with Bucky so at least it wasn’t for nothing. He’s tried to talk to you in class a couple times when you didn't go to him but ended up giving up when you began showing up right when class started or going out of your way to even go near him. 

Again, you didn’t hate him; hell you weren’t mad anymore, but you still avoided at all costs. It’s totally not because you're scared you’ll actually fall for him. How could someone like Bucky even look your way? Maybe he just wanted to get into your pants like all the boys in the house.

You didn’t tell Natasha that Bucky kissed but she could definitely tell that something was up. You were usually at Bucky’s frat house on weekdays but you’ve been canceling sessions every night since the incident. 

One night you were studying alone in your apartment and Natasha was pacing around on her phone. She was dressed to go to a frat party tonight but it seems maybe her ride isn’t available. You wonder why she can’t herself when she has a car.

“Hey Y/n,” Nat crept up to you.

“Yes,” you drew out.

“Would maybe, possibly, perhaps, might be able to be my DD?” she asked.

“Your what?”

“My designated driver. Wanda has a family emergency; her and her brother flew out like an hour ago and I haven’t been able to find anyone to pick me up.”

“I can drop you off and pick you up,” you offered. You’d rather stay up late in case she wants to come home than stay at the party all night, especially if she finds another bed to stay in till morning. 

“I mean you could do that but would it be more fun to actually party for once. Come on babe you’re too uptight, you need to have fun especially with how hard you’re working in school right now.”

“Nat, you know that’s not my scene.”

“Just stay with me. Or Bucky I’m sure he wouldn’t mind hanging with you tonight,” she suggestively, bringing confusion to your face.

“Huh?”

“Oh nothing Just come with me please? If it gets too much text me and I’ll let you know if I need a ride back home.”

“Actually?” you asked.

“Pinky promise.”

“Ok give me like 5 mins.”

You ran to your  room and picked out an outfit you felt sexy but comfortable in; I mean if you were going to inevitably run into Bucky at this party might as well look presentable right? When you came out ready, Nat whistled, hyping you up and felt your face heat up a bit. 

“Stop, let’s just go,” you averted.

You arrived at the house music booming from down the street. People outside drinking from red solo cups, cars already picking up drunks and dropping people off to get said drunk. You hastily parked the car and Nat grabbed your hand and pulled you close as you guys walked to the party. You weren’t going to lie, you were really nervous.

You heard stories about these parties but you were trying to convince yourself that they may be exaggerated somewhat but still didn’t do much for your nerves. When you walked you eyes almost immediately locked with Bucky’s. To say he was shocked to see you at a frat party was for sure an understatement.

Bucky began to move through the crowd to meet up with you but when he got to the entrance it was like you disappeared. Disappointed, he returned to the mini bar where the drinks were all held, where Steve served the drinks. Asked for a beer.

“How’s it going, man?” Steve asked.

“She’s here.”

“Nat? I really think there's something between us. I’m thinking about asking her on a proper date you know?”

“Really? That’s awesome, but I’m talking ‘bout Y/n,” Bucky clarified.

“What? I thought she hated parties.” 

“I did too.”

As if on queue, you tapped Bucky on the shoulder.

“Hi.”

“Hey, what on earth are you doing here?”

“Nat needed a designated driver and Wanda and her brother are out of town.”

“Yeah Pietro lives here in the house, Steve drove him and Wanda to the airport a couple hours ago.”

You nodded your head and things got awkward again, but then again what’s new with that.

“Do you want anything to drink?”

“I can’t drink.”

“Oh right. Do we have soda?”

“We coke for the rum but you can take a can.”

“Thanks Steve,” you took a can of coke from him. 

You and Bucky and Steve all held wholesome conversation for a little  bit then Nat came and whisked him away. Bucky was put on bar duty from then on and you decided to keep him company until Nat was ready to go home. But so far from the way Steve and her were dancing together you didn’t think Nat was gonna wanna go home.

You asked Bucky how long Steve and Nat have had their little thing and apparently it’s been going on for awhile. You had sneaking suspicion that they were together in some way but since Nat never brought it up you didn’t want to bug her. It was pretty easy to figure out though considering she didn’t come home some nights.

They’re good together though and you hope they make it official soon.

Talking to Bucky, you felt a hand brush against but when you looked no one was there. You figured it was just getting crowded. After a couple of hours you decided to text Nat to see where she was. When she didn’t respond, you took it upon yourself to call her.

“Nat where did you go?”

“I'm in the car,” she slurred.

“What! You can’t be driving! How did you even get the keys?” you yelled.

“I snatched them from you when you and Bucky were flirting with each other. Steve couldn’t  find his keys so I took yours,” she shouted into the phone.

“When did you- whatever, is he sober?” you asked.

“Yeah and I am not even that dru-,” she hiccuped. 

“Nat…” you warned. 

“Steve is my boyfriend and we’re clean. I’ll be safe; it’s not like I can have kids anyway.”

“Nat.” When you moved in together at the beginning of the year, you noticed one time her grabbing her lower stomach in discomfort and offered her any products for her period. She told you she doesn’t get one and being the dumbass you are you asked why. She told you when she was a teenager she got into a car accident that caused extreme internal bleeding causing Nat to become infertle. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean it like that,” you apologized.

“It’s ok babe. If anything you be safe.”

“She can’t see you, babygirl,” you heard Steve say and laughed out loud.

“Oh! I’m winking!” she shouted.

“Oh my god. Whatever,” you rolled your eyes.

“Anyways buh-bye, girly!” she hung up the phone.

“What happened?” Bucky came up behind you. You looked over at the bar and saw Bruce bar-keeping.

“Nat took the fucking car with Steve.”

“Why didn’t he use my car?”

“She said he couldn’t find the keys and I guess it was easier to just steal from me when I wasn’t looking.”

“Wow, ok. Stealth much?”

“Right? She’s like a Russian spy,” you laughed.

“Well, you probably need a ride then,” Bucky brought up.

“I don’t know if I wanna go home knowing Steve is probably gonna be railing her into the next dimension.”

“Yeah, you can spend the night here. I can sleep on the floor.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah it’s not a problem. We probably have an air mattress hiding somewhere.”

“Thanks Buck. well since I’m not going anywhere I guess I could have a drink now.”

“What’ll it be?”

You drank a couple beers feeling the alcohol beginning to flow effortlessly through your veins. The music was still booming through the house and you found yourself getting lost to the rhythm. You made your way to where everyone was also dancing and let the music guide your body sensually. 

You didn’t notice it yet but Bucky was staring completely in love with the way you were moving. He’d never seen you in this kind of environment and definitely not in the clothing you were wearing. You looked truly sexy even more so dancing the way you were dancing; like you had control over everything in the world.

You soon felt a pair of hands circle around to your waist instantly knowing who they belong to. Bucky moved his hips snug against your backside perfectly fitting with you. You let your head lean back feeling Bucky breathe against your neck.  

“You driving me crazy, doll,” Bucky whispered against your ear.

You shivered at his words. 

“Please, let me show you how fucking stunning you are,” he moved his hands towards the front of your hips.

“What?” you turned around. You hadn’t expected Bucky to want to do anything with you.

“I can make you feel so good. You deserve it.”

“Bucky-”

“Do you want me to make you feel good?”

“I do,” you whined as he rubbed his hands against your lower back, pulling you so close.

He kissed you too softly, barely touching your lips, as he grabbed your hands and led to his room upstairs.  

When you reached his room, the back of his knees hit the bed and he sat while your knees went to either side of his thighs. God his thighs. His hands went up your shirt grazing your bare skin with his fingertips as you continued to makeout sloppily. 

“Can I take this off?” he asked, tugging your shirt.

“Please, yes please.”

Your arms went over your head and Bucky slowly kissed the exposed skin as your shirt inched higher and higher up until he tossed it to the side. The straps of your bra left off shoulders and Bucky continued to kiss any exposed skin on your body. Your hands ran through his hair and you tugged his strands earning a moan in return.

You tugged at his shirt as well and he complied quickly getting rid of his shirt and throwing it to the side. Bucky hands ran over your bottom and you jumped off him nearly ripping your bottoms off your body. You heard bucky chuckled as he too took the opportunity to take his pants off leaving him in boxers and nothing else.

“I want to taste you baby girl,” Bucky bit at your ear.

Your body tensed a bit because although you were not a virgin, you were not that experienced, especially compared to Bucky. 

“Is that ok? I’m sorry, we don’t have to do anything. I don’t want you to regret anything, princess. We can stop.”

“No! I don’t want to stop. No one’s just ever wanted to do that, you know,” you whispered feeling a bit overwhelmed.

“Oh baby, what kinda shit boys were you with? Let me show how good a woman is supposed to feel, got it?”

You swallowed hard, but nodded of course. 

Bucky picked you up and gently laid you down onto the bed. His hands rubbed your thighs softly and he kissed your stomach ever so softly. He was trying his very hardest to make sure you were comfortable and relaxed as much as possible. Bucky traced the lining of your underwear and looked to you once again to make sure everything was ok by you. You nodded but that wasn’t enough for Bucky.

“Words, baby. I wanna hear you say it,” he whispered, lips against your inner thigh. 

“Bucky,” you whined.

“Come on, baby. Use your words like a big girl,” he snickered.

“Please, touch me, Bucky. I want you to use your mouth on me like you promised.”

“There ya go,” he said pulling your underwear down your legs.

He slowly opened your legs and kissed your inner thigh leaving a dark purple mark for him to see and him only. When he was satisfied with the marks he left on your inner thighs he licked a slow and wet line against your pussy. Your hips instantly bucked into his face and your hands flew to his hair.

You tugged at his hair again and released a grunt from Bucky, the vibrations from his mouth pleasuring you even more. Bucky brought his fingers to your hole and he continued circling his tongue around your clit making you moan and arch your back. 

He entered a finger into you and then another. You were already beginning to feel full from just his fingers alone, you couldn’t wait until he was able to fuck you balls deep. Your orgasm was approaching quicker than you anticipated, your toes curled and your back arched off the bed. Your heels dug into Bucky’s back but he simply continued to eat you out until you finally peaked.

“Bucky!” you shouted his name in pleasure.

“That’s it baby girl. You're my good girl, right?”

“Yes, I’m your good girl. Oh god, I’m cumming,” you moaned.

Bucky helped you ride out your first orgasm of the night completely enamored by your beauty. When you finally came down from you high you reached for Bucky pulling him into a heated kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue and moaned into his mouth. You pulled him closer and sat up moving him to sit his back against his headboard.

“I don’t know what I want to do more, return the favor or ride you until my legs shake.”

“You can return the favor another time. Let me see you ride my dick, doll,” Bucky growled. Another time?

You crawled onto Bucky’s lap after he discarded his boxers letting his dick spring up, the tip red from lack of attention. It shocked you if you were being honest, it was so… big. 

“Is that gonna fit?” you asked genuinely.

“Yeah, it will; but if it hurts too much you tell me to stop ok?” you nodded.

Bucky reached behind your back and unclasped your bra only to toss it to wherever the rest of your clothes were. His hands caressing your breasts; thumbs rubbing over your sensitive nipples, sending chills throughout your body. He kissed along your collarbone to your neck to your jaw before whispering in your ear.

“I have to grab a condom from the bathroom, baby girl. Sorry,” he began to move you.

“Why are you sorry?” you stopped him.

“I don’t wanna ruin the mood but safety is important before anything else.”

You weren’t gonna lie that actually kinda shocked you; and turned you on even more. You had completely forgotten about having a condom. You were on the pill but that doesn't mean you shouldn’t still use a condom. Bucky was back in no time and you took the condom from him wanting to put it on for him. Bucky moaned as you wrapped his dick and soon enough you were ready to go, arousal practically dripping down your inner thighs.

Bucky’s hand lid up to the back of your neck as you slid down his cock; both moaning at the feeling. You took a second to move but when you did things practically fell into pace. You quickly found a good rhythm for the both of you and soon enough you felt yourselves growing near climax.

Bucky’s hands gripped at your ass, grunting and moaning at the feeling of your walls gliding in and out of you. He smacked your ass leaving a slight red-ish mark for you to admire later. You pulled him closer, if that was even possible, burying your face in between Bucky’s neck and shoulder. 

“I can feel ya getting close, baby. Fucking squeezing me. Feels so good, princess.”

“I'm gonna come, I’m so close.”

“Don’t come until I say so. Hold it, I know you can. Be my good little girl and fucking hold it.”

You sucked and kissed and licked his neck leaving little marks not nearly as big as the ones he was leaving all over you. Soon enough you felt the coil building in the pit of your stomach snap and you moaned so loud into Bucky’s ear, he almost came from hearing your moans.

“Sorry I literally screamed in your ear.”

“I told you not to come until I say so.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t hold it anymore. You felt too good,” you whispered, barely audible.

“That doesn’t matter. I told you to hold it,” Bucky got off the bed and reached for his pants. You got so scared that he was going to leave; terrified. But instead he took his belt he was wearing and stalked back towards you. Oh how the butterflies in your stomach fluttered right now.

“Arms up baby girl. You don’t get to touch me now.”

You complied, your stomach fluttering immensely at the mere thought of what Bucky was going to  do with you now. When he finished looping the belt around the headboard of the bed his hands ran along your entire body kissing here and there until back up to you. 

“Too tight?” you shook your head.

“Perfect. Winter; say the word and I stop,” he kissed passionately, sliding back in you, pussy sensitive from orgasming twice tonight. 

Bucky didn’t take as much time as you did before starting to slam into you over and over again. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, toes curling in themselves, tears brimming your eyes. Bucky fingers dug into your waist surely leaving more marks for you in the morning. 

His hand came up to wrap around your neck and squeezed ever so slightly.

“Feel good? My little fucking slut, whining and wiggling under me,” Bucky said, more to himself than anything.

“Fuck-” you moaned. You wrists rubbing against the belt, trying to pull away so you could touch Bucky.

“What is it? You wanna touch me,” Bucky’s hand squeezed a bit more and you moaned even louder, legs wrapping around his waist pulling him closer that way.

“Oh good please Bucky, let me touch you!”

“Uh-uh, bad girls don’t get what they want. If you want to touch me you have to beg me like the good little whore you are,” Bucky growled.

“Fuck Bucky please, I’ll do anything for you just me let me touch you. Please, please, please!”

“Tell me your mine.”

“I’m yours, Buck. All fucking yours. No one else’s!”

“No one is ever gonna fuck as good as I do. Your mine.”

“Yes! I’m yours, oh god,” you moaned.

Bucky was extremely close to cumming and so were you so he undid the belt with one hand skillfully and your arms wrapped around his body pulling as close to you as humanly possible. Your hands ran through his hair and pulled hard as you both fell over the edge. Bucky settled between your legs for a minute kissing your breasts, your chest heaving trying to catch your breath. 

Bucky got up and discarded the condoms making sure there were no tears or rips considering how rough he’d been with you. He didn’t intend to be rough at first but his mind was so clouded with you he practically lost control; but you didn’t mind not one bit. 

Bucky came back with bottled water from a small refrigerator he kept in the corner of his room and held you back and head as you brought the water to your lips. After satisfying your dry and hoarse throat, Bucky picked you up and set down on his bathroom counter, the cold of the marble counter in extreme contrast to your hot skin. 

He cleaned you up and inspected your wrists making sure you weren’t hurt; although they were quite red and would probably hurt in the morning. Lastly, he grabbed a wipe and cleaned the remaining mess of makeup you had put on the night before speaking up again.

“Was I too rough? I didn’t mean to be,” Bucky caressing the sides of your waist. You shocked your head no; the face with a blissfully fucked out expression and a smile making Bucky chuckle. He rubbed your skin with lotion to ease any irritation anything may have caused and kissed the marks he made during sex. He admits that he really likes seeing you marked up by him knowing he’s the only one who gets to see them and make them. Makes him proud that he was able to fuck so good and you loved it too.

He picked you up and took you to bed; kissing you all over one last time before letting you fall asleep in his arms. The last thing you heard before you fell asleep was Bucky whispering about how good were to him, calling you his good little girl; rubbing your back ever so softly putting you to sleep.

+++

You woke the next morning arms and legs tangled with another. You turn your head to find Bucky Barnes’ face tucked into your neck soft breaths tickling your skin. You rubbed his arms and back, nails lightly scratching him causing him to stir a bit.

Bucky pressed soft kisses against your skin and rested his large warm hands on your ass and thighs. You felt the urge to use the restroom and haven’t going last night, you figured you should as soon as possible. Prying your mildly sweaty body from his was obviously unsuccessful with how much stronger he was compared to you. His legs moved further in between your thighs and he began kissing your chest making you giggle in return.

“Bucky, I have to use the restroom,” you grabbed his face.

“Oh, sorry,” he chuckled and released his hold on you, not without whining of course.

You ran into his bathroom and shut the door. When you turned around you gasped realizing how marked up you were. Dark purple spots littered all over your chest and neck. Your wrists were bright red from the belt he used last night; however they didn’t hurt, a bit sore but not painful. Your thighs were also decorated with love bites and hickeys from Bucky last night and you smiled to yourself.

After you used the bathroom you cleaned yourself as well as possible but admittedly needed a shower in the end. You opened the door only to find Bucky, grinning like a little boy. You folded your hands underneath your chin evidently hiding your body with your arms as much as you could. 

Bucky came up to you and placed his hands on your waist kissing the top of your head before turning you around to look at yourself in the bathroom mirror. His body was flush against your and you could feel his dick sitting against your ass and lower back. His face came up and rested on your shoulder then grabbed your hands to wrap them behind his head and yours. 

You played with his hair a bit feeling so confident and loved by the affection Bucky has been giving since you came into his room. His hands ran across your body everywhere they could reach before making eye contact with you in the mirror.

“Look at you, goddamn.”

“What?” you chuckled.

“Do you see what I’m seeing?”

You shook your head, feeling incredibly shy suddenly.

“Look how  fucking beautiful and gorgeous and perfect you are. Geez, I can’t even handle it.” 

You laughed out at how dramatic he was being.

“Goddamn, I could stare at your perfect body all fucking day,” he whispered, it wasn’t in a sensual tone however. It was almost like he was saying to himself, like he actually wanted to do as such.

“Please stay,” he asked you.

“Are you ok?” you sensed he was being incredibly serious, almost about to cry even.

His sad painted with sadness, eyes begging you to stay with him for the day. He wanted something with you.he wanted to be yours and hoped to God that you’d be his in return.

“Stay with me. Please?” you realized you didn’t think he was talking about staying for now, he meant stay with him, as a partner.

“What happened?” you caressed his face in your hands. He lifted you and placed you on the counter Like he did the night before, settling his hips in between your legs.

“They always leave,” he whispered.

“Who? ”

“I didn’t want to just sleep around with girls anymore so I started talking to them and taking them out but every time the night we had sex, they would always leave. I tried talking to them the next day but they always said they didn’t want anything out of it. So I stopped having sex altogether.” 

Your heart ached for him. You didn’t want to do that to him. Of course you thought about it, but that was clearly before you realized Bucky wanted to be with you.

“I won’t leave.”

“We can stay in my room all day. You don’t even have to get out of bed. I can grab a couple game consoles from downstairs and we play on the tv. We order breakfast. I’ll wash your clothes. We have a washing machine in the basement,” Bucky said excitedly, you smiled excited as well for your day with Bucky.

“Can we take a shower first?” you asked.

“Yes of course, let’s take a shower.”

“Let’s?” you wiggled your eyebrows.

“Of course. Maybe we can pop in a couple rounds while we’re at it,” Bucky winked.

“Bucky!”

______________________

Ok, all done. :) Hope you liked it and maybe give it a little like or reblog? You don’t have  to though lol

ᴛᴀɢʟɪsᴛ! 

@baddie-barnes

@calwitch

@red42985

[fickle-tiction]

Gotham’s Ticklish Prince

This started out as a headcanon, and then it spiraled out of control. You’re welcome.

  ~~

One day Bruce Wayne makes headlines. This isn’t surprising, or even noteworthy. He’s always making headlines for some silly nonsense he does as Bruce, to draw attention away from Batman. What is surprising is when he walks into the Hall of Justice and sees his face smiling back at him from about 10 different magazines strewn all over the meeting table.

Specifically, he sees himself curling inwards, eyes crinkled, nose scrunched, mouth stretched into a wide surprised smile as Mike, his date to last night’s gala, stands behind him. Thankfully, Mike’s hands are out of frame so no one can tell from the picture that he’s squeezing Bruce’s sides from behind.

“Oh look.” Arthur says, coming out of nowhere with a shit eating grin on his face. “Gotham’s Ticklish Prince decided to show his face.”

If Bruce didn’t have years of training and self discipline under his belt he would have flushed.

A Different magazine comes flying at him and smacks him in the stomach before he can even blink. Bruce catches it on reflex and looks down, only to be met with the headline “Gotham’s Ticklish Prince Has A New Squeeze” and, to his internal horror, it shows a picture snapped about two seconds after the first one. Bruce is clearly laughing in delight as Mike squeezes his sides, in full view of the camera. Several smaller pictures are beneath it, catching Bruce as he latches onto Mikes hands, turns and leans in close to tell him to stop. He didn’t have to flip to page 4, where the story apparently continued, to know what other pictures they surely got. Mike hadn’t stopped after one squeeze, and Bruce was too into character, and for once too unaware of any paparazzo nearby, to make him stop.

He knew he should have skipped the gala last night. Getting only 3 hours of sleep over the course of 4 nights and then slipping into his Bruce persona was always risky. Normally the two whiskies he had wouldn’t affect him at all, but the exhaustion plus the fact that he liked this Mike guy and was feeling comfortable and loose, clearly created a perfect storm. He remembered Mike sneaking up on him, he remember his guard being down just enough for it to catch him unawares and cause a reaction. He remembered how good it felt, but he won’t be letting himself go there. No. No thank you.

What he didn’t remember was the paparazzi being right there.

Or what would happen when those pictures surfaced at HQ.

Bruce finally looked up from the front cover of the Gotham Globe and was met with identical smirks from Arthur and Clark. Well, that explained the newspaper smacking him in the stomach earlier.

“It’s a character.” Bruce said, voice flat as he tossed the magazine onto the conference table. It wouldn’t help his situation if he tried to throw it out or look like he was hiding something.

“Right.” Clark didn’t sound like he was buying it at all. “So you knew you were being recorded. That’s why you put on such a convincing act.”

Recorded?

Recorded?!

Again, Bruce didn’t outwardly react at the news, but inside he was curling into a ball, ready to wither and die at any second. They fucking got that on video?

Naturally, the huge screen on the wall clicks on at the moment, showing a video of Bruce doing something on his phone. He had actually been playing some asinine game as he waited for Mike to come back from the bathroom. Bruce Wayne couldn’t be caught doing anything more than slicing up fruit on his phone, after all.

“I see Victor’s here.” Bruce says dryly, as though his eyes aren’t glued to the screen. His face remains impassive, but inside he’s once again screaming for his past self to turn around as Mike comes into frame behind him. He’s so busy watching Mike smirk and start sneaking up behind him (and, really, how did he not notice this last night? The guy is being so damn obvious about it.) that he doesn’t notice Clark and Arthur inching closer to him on either side.

Bruce feels a hand latch onto either of his sides just as Mike reaches forward and does the same on camera. Thankfully, Bruce’s guard has been up since he first saw his goofy face smiling back at himself when he walked into the room, so he does nothing more than cock an eyebrow and look at first Arthur, and then Clark.

“It’s a character.” He repeats, ignoring the staccato squeezing at one of his worst spots.

“I’m not going to react like he does, even though this tickles like hell. Bruce Wayne is an airheaded goof ball. Batman might be ticklish, but he doesn’t let it show--what the fuck?!” Bruce looked down to see a glittering gold rope wrapped innocently around his ankle. “Diana! What the hell?! I’m going to--” He cut off, clamping his mouth shut as he felt words trying to spill out. Words he most definitely did not want to say in the present company.

“Going to what, Brucie?” Diana asked, smirking as she held the lasso of truth in her hand. Bruce glared daggers at her, lips clamped tightly even as the squeezing on his sides turned to wiggling fingers and, to his horror, he felt his resolve breaking. 

“I’m--” Bruce huffed, biting his lower lip to keep from both speaking and laughing. “--I’m going--” His mouth was trying to curve into a smile, but Bruce was nothing if not stubborn and refused to let it happen.

“We’ve almost got him.” Arthur smirked, venturing a little lower and pinching just above Bruce’s hipbone. 

Clark noticed the jolt that caused and immediately followed suit on his side.

“I’m-Going-To-Pretend-To-Hate-all-of-you-to-keep-up-my-image.” Bruce was forced to say, as he finally caved and latched onto Arthur and Clark’s hands. Not that it did him any good. He might be The Batman, but outside of his suit he didn’t stand a chance against Superman, Aquaman and Wonder Woman, if she decided to get more hands on.

“You don’t actually hate it, do you.” Clark marveled, giving that spot above his hipbone another gentle pinch. Thank God for his super hearing, because without it he probably would have missed the squeak Bruce let out.

“I-” Again, Bruce was trying to clamp his mouth shut, but it wasn’t very effective since his mouth was stretched into a wide grin. “I have an image to maintain!” It was supposed to come out as a growl, but instead it sounded more like a whine as Bruce’s dam broke and laughter started pouring out of him.

“Well, if you’re trying to maintain the Ticklish Prince of Gotham image, you’re doing a fantastic job.” Arthur mocked him, now fluttering his fingers up and down Bruce’s side rapidly. 

Bruce was lost to the laughter, something that hasn’t happened to him since he was a kid. He began backing up, trying to back away from the tickling fingers flying furiously up and down both sides of his body. Absently, he noted that Diana must have let him go because he didn’t trip over the lasso as he tried to get away. He did, however, back himself into the wall without realizing it since his eyes were squeezed shut as he tried to contain the wild laughter pouring out  of him.

“Fahahahack!” Bruce cursed himself as Clark and Arthur boxed him in, each still tickling away. Clark was now experimenting with Bruce’s stomach while Arthur, the bastard, was worming his way under Bruce’s arm. 

They let him try to defend himself for a minute, wordlessly taunting him as they both danced around his arms with half-hearted attempts to get at his armpits. Finally, Arthur spoke up. “Clark, do you mind doing something about these?” He asked, tracing his fingertips gently up and down Bruce’s forearms. Bruce was well and truly gone if even that tickled like hell.

“Wha-” Bruce asked, laughter starting to die down as he got a short break. He cracked his eyes open, realizing for the first time he had been hunched in on himself, arms clamped down tightly, trying to protect as much of his sides as he could. 

“Oh, it’d be my pleasure.” Clark grinned. Lightening fast, he grabbed up Bruce’s wrists in one strong hand and pinned them to the wall above his head. Bruce’s eyes widened comically, too far gone to have any hope of controlling his facial features.

“Hey now.” He said, voice breathy as caught his breath. “You’ve had your fun.” Instead of the gravely voice they’d come to expect, Bruce’s voice was closer to that of his alter ego Bruce Wayne’s now. Nearly high pitched, and just short of panicky as he flexed his arms against the steel grip they were in.

“Tell me Bruce,” Arthur started, fingers slowly crawling up his ribs towards their destination. Bruce’s nerves immediately jumped to attention because they were already so worked up. “Are your armpits ticklish?”

Bruce tried to glare at him, even as his muscles twitched beneath Arthur’s fingers and his mouth started curving into another grin.

“Diana left.” Clark added, grinning at the man he had pinned to the wall. “And she took her lasso with her. I guess we’ll have to find out for ourselves.”

“Fuck.” Was the last coherent thing Bruce said for quite a while.

When Clark and Arthur finally let him go, he slumps to the floor in an exhausted heap and marvels at the last time he laughed that much (The answer: never.) or the last time he felt this exhausted without getting his ass whooped, or whooping someone else’s.

Once he’s regained some of his dignity, Bruce goes to the security feed with the intention of deleting the last hour of footage. He surprised to find it’s already gone, the tapes spliced seamlessly, with only a minor blip to show anything is missing. 

Victor, naturally, saved the entire thing to his personal servers. Just in case.

[avungerthatgotaway]

The Soldier of the Night

heyyyy guys!! this is my first ever request fic and im so excited to do iiiit. please tell me what you think of it in the comments🥰

it's made for this request

summary: y/n finally takes matters into her own hands and escapes hydra. but it won't be as easy as she tought...

warnings: mentions of blood and child neglect

pairings: avengers x teen!reader (platonic)

genre: angst-ish, fluff at the end

Sorry for grammar mistakes.

If you have request feel free to ask🥰

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

Y/N Y/LN, but no one calls you by that name. To the world you are known as The Soldier of the Night, the merciless murderer. Mothers all over the world use you to teach their kids about most dreadful dangers. People gather around campfire in woods and share scary stories of your cold heart and homicides you don't feel guilty about. You are the biggest fear of each and every government there is in world.

And you always wonder what all those people would say if they knew how old you were. Or that you never kill willingly. Or that you silently pray every night for the victims you harmed or killed in your brainwashed state.

Or that hydra has no control over you anymore. You are currently running, without exact destination, just to get as far from hydra as you can. They are probably alerted of your absence by this point, but you are already in New York, so you can maybe find a hiding spot before they find you.

-

-Avengers pov

-

Nick Fury hurried to the avengers tower, where he called a sudden meeting this morning.

When he came in Steve and Sam were sweaty, probably just came from their morning jog. Bucky was still fighting sleep in his pyjamas, hair sticking out in different directions. Wanda was starring daggers at him for waking her up so early. Tony and Bruce were in lab coats, probably didn't sleep at all. All other avengers were at their respective missions.

"I called this meeting because my resources told me infamous Soldier of the Night is out of hydra HQ. We don't know why, but it's probably another killing mission for hydra. He is currently laying low, somewhere around south entrance to the city. Your mission is to stop him from harming anyone and bring him here. Alive if possible, it would benefit us to know what are hydra's plans at the moment." he finished.

"Alright." said Steve dutifully. "Any information we can get on him before we go?"

"Not much. Only that he is dangerous, and doesn't spare anyone. He is a ghost story. We don't even know if it's a he, that's just a guess."

"Very well. Everyone suit up, I expect you in front of tower in 10." Steve said and left, other avengers following behind.

-

They came back that evening, exhausted of their unsuccessful search. There was no trace of the soldier. But they had to keep looking as long as there's hope to get rid of the monster.

-

-2nd person pov

-

Your heart was racing a hundred miles. You were well aware of the possibility of hydra finding you. But you didn't expect it to be this soon. You were in hiding for only 2 months and they already tracked you down.

Windows broke on your left side and hydra agents started piling in. At the same time on your right side the door broke down revealing whole avengers team, with few additions. You faintly remember one of them as The Winter Soldier, but what was he doing with avengers? Your toughts were cut short by a punch in your face delivered by one of hydra agents.

That's when it snapped: you had to fight for your life. And you probably had to fight both sides.

You started fighting hydra agents, harming them as much as you can without killing.

The avengers stand at the doorstep, and you faintly hear one of them saying "What the actual fuck?". They seemed belivered.

But they soon join the fight knocking out hydra agents. A fist connected with the back of your head, knocking you out into pool of darkness.

-

Light clacking of bottles was the first thing you hear when you wake up. You squint your eyes open, panic finnaly kicking in to where you are. Your first tought was that you were back in hydra HQ, but the room was way too light for that, and hydra wanted you dead.

You started panicking and franatically got out of the bed, trying to escape. Whoever this is, they nean no good. Even avengers want to kill you. But as soon as you got up, black dots invaded your vision, causing you to fall. But before you hit the groung a pair of arms caught you, leading you to sit back in bed.

"Hey, hey sweetie calm down. No one will harm you here. Don't make any sudden movements, your head is still not completely healed." a man told you.

You just layed back and watched him bandage your wrist.

"I am Bruce Banner, by the way. What is your name?" he asked kindly.

"Y/N Y/LN" you whispered, almost inaudibly but he heard it.

"Alright, Y/N. I think I bandaged all your bruises. Rest of the team is waiting out, do you maybe want to meet them?"

By 'team' he probably meant rest of the avengers. You saw a big 'A' painted on the wasll, so that had to be it, right? You immediately shook your head no, eyes widening in fear. You still weren't sure they won't harm you, and meeting them seemed overwhelming in your current state.

"It's okay, calm down. You can meet them later. I will stay with you a little. We could talk if you want?"

You just shrugged your shoulders, not particularly fond of talking with anyone, but not wanting to seem rude because he did help you.

"Okay. How old are you Y/N?" he asked slowly.

"(your age)" you quietly said.

"Dear lord, you really are just a kid. I'm so sorry for everything you've gone through."

You just zoned out, thinking about everything that happened, when something poped up in your mind.

"Mr. Banner?" you asked shyly.

"Call me Bruce kiddo. What is it?"

"I tought I saw The Winter Soldier at the door when you guys came to get me?"

"Oh yes. Bucky. He was also in hydra, as you probably know. He was brainwashed. I suppose you were too?"

"I was, every time I killed somebody. Sometimes I went to missions with other agents and they didn't brainwash me, but I never killed anyone when I was in my senses." You started thinking about your victims as teers pooled in your eyes.

"We supposed so. Do you want me to bring Bucky in a little? Maybe he can help you feel better, because he knows what you're going through."

You slowly nodded, not wanting to reject meeting avengers the second time.

"Alright, he'll be here in a minute." Bruce gave you a gentle smile and patted your shoulder.

A minute after he exited, in came Bucky. He looked better than when you saw him last, but you doubted he's seen you. You were sneaking out, tryna find some food, when you heard and saw agents torturing him. That's about only memory you have of him, along with stories you've heard from other people.

"Hello there doll. How are you? Bruce told me you remember me." he said gently, sitting at the edge of your bed.

"I-I am alright, i guess. Th-thanks. And yes, I do. A little. I was passing by door, when I saw them torturing y-yo-you." you started sobbing a little, the memory bringing back others. Memories of them torturing you. And you torturing other people in your brainwashed state.

"Hey don't cry. It's okay, shhh. Come here." he opened his arms, and you hesitantly scooted closer, not exactly sure what he wanted. He circled his arms around you, and you flinched, thinking he's gonna attack you. But he just gently kept his arms wrapped around you, soothingly rubbing you back. after some time you wraoed your arms around his middle, still not sure what's going on.

But it was a nice feeling. You never felt something like it before. You felt so safe, like nothing could harm you as long as you two stay like that. You wanted to know what was all this about.

"Wha-at are you do-oing?" you asked after you stopped sobbing, but still hiccuping a little.

"Oh, I'm hugging you. Are you uncomfortable? I will stop if you are. Sorry." he said starting to draw back.

"No!" you quickly said, clutching onto him like koala. You were afraid the sense of comfort will leave you as soon as he withdraws from you.

"Shhh, doll. I won't let go. Never. Nothing will ever harm you here kiddo. We will take care of you. You can live normal life, like all other kids. Maybe go to school after you adapt to your surroundings. Here is a kid Peter he is about your age. You can make friends your age. And of course we will be your friends. For as long as you want it."

"Wait, I can live here? I'm not a burden?"

"No, of course not. Don't ever think that, please."

"B-Bu-Bru" you struggled to remember what Bruce told you his name was.

"Bucky. Or James, whichever you prefer kid."

"Oh okay. What are hugs Bucky?"

"Well I'm hugging you right now. You hug people ti show your emotions. Like comfort, thankfulness, happiness, love. It's what friends do."

"Wait wait wait. You never had a hug before?? Like ever????" a new voice boomed. It sounded genuine but way too loud. You flinched instinctively and hid your face in Bucky's shoulder. He tightened his hold on you for comfort.

"Can you be any louder Thor? And no she was practically raised in hydra, they don't exactly hug around." Bucky said.

"I am sorry, lady Y/N. For frightening you, and for my inappropriate question. I am Thor Odinson." he said coming closer to you.

"It's okay Mr. Thor. I'm Y/N Y/LN, nice to meet you." you said shyly.

"Oh it's lovely meeting you too. I came here because brother Stark asked me to ask you if our presence is wished upon now."

"Huh, what do you think, doll? Ready to meet 'em now? No pressure." Bucky quietly asked, only for you to hear.

You tought about it for a second, but if everyone is nice as three you already met, you'd like to meet them all. And with quiet "okay", Bucky nodded to Thor and he left to call the others in.

-

That night you layed in your bed, thinking of that day's events. You met everyone, since no one had missions assigned. They were all really nice to you. Even Loki, which surprised every avenger. You were not sure why tho, Loki was nice, and his voice was comforting. The Maximoff twins were really funny, and Tony already started making you your own room! Everyone else you've met was aweosme: Natasha, Clint, Steve, Sam and Rhodey. Peter was shy but nice, he promised to show you some good movies and he was belivered when you said you don't know what those are.

Bucky was still you favorite. He stayed the longest, promising to come and visit you first thing in the morning. You hoped he'll hug you again, you were quite fond of hugs now.

-

Few months passed since avengers saved you. Life couldn't be better at this point. You were home schooling, or rather preparing to go to real school next year. Peter already introduced you to his friends from school you are going to attend. You were training to become an avenger, and it was so exciting.

You were currently having breakfast tho, sitting in between Sam and Bucky who were bickering about one thing or other. Tony was dancing funnily while making pancakes, while Nat was trying to throw as many blueberries as possible at him. You heard Clint somewhere in wents above you, probably setting up a prank. You smiled to yourself. Even though you never knew love, or had a family until two months prior, avengers accepted you. They were slowly becoming your family, and you couldn't imagine your life without them. ;)

[iphoenixrising]

More on the Robinpile Soulmate au

You know, babes, people and their wonderful, encouraging comments on that work in progress are fucking beautiful, so.

I’m going to put a little snippet down that’s probably going to rip at your heart strings and spoil the story a bit for you if you decide to read this small bit. So, just FYI Spoiler. 

But, if you’d like a little more on how that story is going to go, welp. here you are *bows*

Note: not formatted or beta read. 

After so much careful planning and preparation, Plan C is a go. 

Robin is running over rooftops, scanning every shadow for a hint of Red Robin in Gotham. Nightwing and the Red Hood, Black Bat, Batgirl, and Signal are all in crucial parts of the city, on the lookout as well.

He, Jason, and Dick have spent weeks preparing for this, hoping their last-ditch effort would be enough to convince Tim his time as Robin hadn’t been in vain, that he was still, would always be a Bat. 

That is the goal tonight, not to try convincing him to give them a chance as soulmates because that is likely impossible, but they could start a much more important mission, to try in their own ways to give him back something they’d all taken. To try to show they knew what they’d done to him, and perhaps could start them on the road to make it right.

(He hopes there’s still a chance.)

Fabrication didn’t take long, but the coupe de gras certainly did. 

Word Red Robin would be in Gotham on the down-low gave them a chance to finally act, and Oracle promised them she would do her best to stall their soulmate until Robin could get to him.

And it’s a pang of pain, a lightning strike, when he catches up with Red on the roof of the Wallstone Apartments. The memory of the cut grapple line in the foreground of Robin’s thoughts.

“Please help,” Robin makes himself fall off his grapple to his knees, bent over, panting. “Red Robin, please.” 

(Not all of it is an act, not with how hard he was running to get to Red before he vanished into the city.)

The older vigilante kneels by him, out of immediate reach. 

“Where?” Is Tim’s Red Robin voice, a hand almost reaches out, clenches tight at the last second to draw back, and Robin sees the aborted move, has a flare of hope.

“Cannery Row–” and Robin rocks to the side, looks up at that closed expression, dares to let the fluttering in his chest give him strength.

Hands and arms around him, steady him, pull him up on his knees. He thinks about the grip Red Robin has on his shoulders to hold him up, how tightly Tim is able to hold on. A finger taps his mask so the whiteouts slide up, taking away some of his nightvision. He’s not concussed, is perfectly fine, but through his research, an injured (seemingly) teammate in need is one of Tim’s weaknesses. 

“Robin–”

“We need you, there is too much happening in the city tonight. We are all stretched too thin,” and there is nothing but the truth in his eyes, his demeanor, the way his gloved hand tightens in the cape over Red’s shoulder. 

“All right, stay here, call Hood or N to pick you up–”

But Robin staggers to his feet, “I can’t. I must get you to the safehouse. Everything we need is there.”

He keeps himself from a triumphant bellow when Red Robin paces him to the edge of the roof, grapple already in hand. 

Luckily, Cannery Row is close enough they don’t have to go far, just their past hanging between them, the connection that’s agonizingly cold and silent even when they’re side-by-side. 

Robin lands it this time on the roof of the familiar warehouse. He taps the comm unit on as he touches down, hopes Red won’t notice. 

They climb through a service elevator shaft, the two of them prying open the doors once they hit the underground floor. 

“Give me the details,” Red’s whole body tense as they lower themselves down into the darkness.

“Black Bat is in the Central Business District, Hood is by the Iceburg Lounge, Nightwing is in the Diamond District. Father is tracking down leads for a case, Batgirl is on her way to the Steel Mill. We still have no coverage for the situation in the City Hall District, but you cannot go alone.”

When they get the doors pried open, when Red Robin was close enough for his cape to brush against his, the underground is revealed in shadows, just as he, Jason, and Richard left it a few hours earlier.

(This is a newer Batman Incorporated holding. Robin is banking on the fact Tim might not know this, his heart starting to beat harder, faster when they get closer to the first stage of Plan C.)

The lights kick on as planned, and in the large expansive floor, a drop-cloth-covered something waits.

That’s all.

Red Robin is looking around for anything, searching for traps, evidence, something to give him an idea of what he’s walking into, back pressed against the elevator before he starts to step out. 

His vigilante instincts aren’t going crazy, but he stays close to the shadows as he sneaks out, leaving Robin behind in the elevator shaft to stay or follow.

(Where Damian has the next step in the plan waiting, a duffle bag he’d hidden in the panel of the elevator shaft. He’s fast and silent, throwing off his gloves, gauntlets, cape, and utility belt–)

His instincts still aren’t blaring dangerdangerdanger and his wrist computer isn’t picking up any foreign tech when Red Robin finally gets to the drop-cloth with a frown, wondering if they’ve come across a piece of shady tech or something. 

Which is really the only explanation for why Robin would come to him at all, everyone else busy in Gotham notwithstanding. 

He grips the cloth and pulls hard, muscles tense for whatever fuckey waits for him underneath. 

When he gets an eyeful, his knees go terribly weak for a long painful moment as he stares at–

The Red Bird.

“Oh...fuck,” because his eyes are instantly hot and full, making him blink rapidly behind the whiteouts.

And it gleams in the overhead lights, red and black and shiny, looks like it did the day Bruce showed it to him in the Cave, ready to tear into the night. 

His chest hitches and the possibility this could be a cruel joke hits him hard enough to choke.

(It’s because he rejected them. This sick shit is because he refused to let bygones be bygones.)

“Open the door, Tim. Everything you will need tonight is ready for you.” 

It’s Dami’s voice echoing behind him, not Robin’s, and Red can’t bring himself to look away, too many things churning in his brain pan around the shock and anger and regret and grief. It might be stupid for him to reach out, to make his wobbly knees work, to open the door with a bigger hand than the last time he did this. 

The inside is immaculate, even after years of disuse that Red Robin has to wonder how and why and what the absolute fuck is happening here?

But on the seat, folded neatly with all the bells and whistles, the shuriken R on the red tunic gleams bright in the halogen glow. His throat gets tight when he realizes it’s his original red, gold, and green–the colors of joy. 

The colors from the best years, before it all started to go horribly wrong.

A noise comes out of him, something low and pained before he can rein it in, before he can remind himself he’s already moved past the point this should still mean something. 

(But it does, it always has, it’s always meant so much, especially back when he was just a kid in a silent, empty house. It meant he had a place, a purpose, a presence at his back when things got to be too much, too overwhelming.)

And it’s stupid how helpless he is, how some part of him –small and weak as it is– can’t stop himself from reaching out to touch, to grab, to try to hold the fuck on.

(Not because of the name itself, never that, but everything he’d lost the second it had all been taken away. A final nail in the coffin, back to being that boy in an empty house.)

When he reaches for the suit, he holds it in both hands like he’s seeing things, chest stuttering on a breath when the scent of new leather and Kevlar proves he hasn’t been drugged or the sleep dep severely fucking with him. 

Stepping from the shadows, no longer in Robin but a black suit of some nameless ninja, Damian Wayne is holding the hood and face covering he’s going to wear for the night, waits until he sees how his soulmate will react to this possibly disastrous plan. 

He takes careful, tentative steps closer, taking in the hunched shoulders, bowed head, reaching into the Bond when it is ice cold in his chest.

“Wh-what the fuck is this?” Hoarse and painful from his, their Tim. And Dami’s hands automatically reach out in desperation to comfort before he remembers himself and hesitates. 

Even if the Bond on his side is closed, cold, silent, Damian breathes in and attempts to send calming, soothing feelings, tries to let his own emotions, his hope, his affection, his protectiveness, his respect, his reverence for this man be available should the Bond at any moment open even slightly. 

His soulmate’s rigid control to close himself off from them comes from years of training, of trying to protect himself is such a point of pain that some part of him thinks the three of them together could crash through if they tried, could break down those walls by force. 

But he’s here tonight, had worked so hard with N and Hood and Father and Batgirl and Black Bat and Oracle to plan it all, set it all up, because he’s different now, has learned what his actions had cost him, has realized he can’t go back to the old ways. 

Instead, he hopes they will have this last chance, will give Tim enough reasons to open up without fear, without pain.

(“It started with taking the cape,” Dick thinks aloud once the three of them are together after a long night, finding comfort, “he thinks he was kicked out of the family, so...this shouldn’t have been about soulmates in the first place.”

“I do not understand, Beloved,” Dami yawns, buried himself deeper against Jason’s chest.

“It’s not about gettin’ him like that, Sweets,” Jay replies, stroken a hand through his hair. “Might never happen…” 

“But, we could give him back some of what we took. He could finally come home again–”

Dami’s eyes open, “we...could give him back his place in the family. Or at least try to do so. Is that what you are saying?”

“Hm,” Jay grunts out, arms stealthy when he wraps them both up, rolls to put himself in the middle, “sounds like we godda last resort, now don’t it?”

“We’ll call it Plan C since it’s our last chance.”)

Plan C, indeed.

“Tim,” and he gives them only a few feet of space, no domino, no hood, no face coverings, no masks, holds up both hands in what he hopes is a peaceful gesture. 

Red Robin spins with a growl, muscles tense in fight or flight, ready to throw the fuck down because why fix up the Red Bird and bring it here of all places? What game is this? Haven’t they broken him enough?

But Damian isn’t in the tunic he was wearing less than ten minutes ago, and Red Robin stops cold at the obviously planned costume change.  He takes a careful step away from the very familiar suit Damian is wearing now, one that looks crazily like B’s when he was Tengu, trying to get himself back enough to take the cowl from Jean-Paul back when shit was crazy but even then he still had Nightwing at his back and–and…

What is wrong with him? He hasn’t thought about any of this in years. 

But still. But still, his eyes go to the gleaming Red Bird, and those better times well up from within, a place so deep, he’d convinced himself he’d left all of it behind. 

(Nightwing and Spoiler, school and the Cave, new baddies in Gotham to throw more crazy into the Rogue Gallery mix, teenage angst and sidekick wins, people at his back and front even in the worst of times. Being Red for the Titans was good, so good, but not ever the same. Not like it was when he was that Robin.)

He’s still holding the tunic in both hands, fists clenching it tight like something would have to pry his hands open to take it away (again) when what he really needs to do is throw it back in the Bird and get the absolute fuck out of here. Because this isn’t his anymore, apparently never should have been if the last few years were any kind of indication on the Tim Drake policy. 

“This is cruel, even for you,” is snarly and low, is simmering anger trying to cover up old pain, pissing him off even more because he’d finally gotten to the place where he could forget for a while. 

(And he’ll get there again. Even after all this.)

He makes his fingers unclench, throws the tunic back on the driver’s seat, but none of that covers up how hoarse his voice is, how tight his chest feels.

Dami just moves one hand, slowly pulls out his phone, thumbs the pass code to unlock the screen, and turns the device around to show Red what’s doing on the main screen.

His brain doesn’t process the image that’s him, one of the few existing pictures from years ago when he was still with Young Justice, the one of the core four making stupid faces, torn up from whatever space battle they’d just come back from, half-insane with sleep deprivation and injuries, only back to the planet for moments to celebrate not dying with pizza and Zestis, arms thrown around each other with rips and bruises and blood still staining the uniforms.

Why the fuck it meant something to Damian is the real question. 

“I was wrong, when I came to the Tower,” Damian takes a tentative step toward him, still holding the phone out like a distraction that was really a message. “I told you I wanted to know this man you are now. The man that is one of my soulmates. However...however, I was wrong, Tim. You were my soulmate even back then. You were mine, and even if you weren’t, you were already part of the family when I came to Father, and I did not even give you a chance. I did not see how important you were, what lengths you went to make that symbol your own.  I was terrified, young, foolish, but that is no excuse. What I should have been doing all this time is learning who you were back then before I attempted to approach you. Only by knowing that boy could I hope to understand this man.”

Wait, what now? How is this happening right now? All the awful things he’d secretly wanted to hear from the blood son, another chosen one. Another crux of his tangled emotions.

“I already told you I don’t need fucking soulmates. I rejected you.” He bites out, trying to breathe, trying to shove those emotions back down where they belong, trying to pretend the sight of the car, the tunic, the things he used to call his own, can’t touch him anymore. 

(But it still has power, so much fucking power to break him down to this, that scared kid in an empty house.)

After all these years, he’s moved on...right?

“I know, Beloved,” Dami puts his phone away, green eyes never leaving Red Robin’s tense form. “But this? Tonight? This has nothing to do with soulmates.”

Which is absolutely not what he expects to hear.

“Tonight is about my predecessor, Beloved, not my soulmate. This is for the Robin that stood in Gotham before me,” and it’s gentle in ways Red Robin never imagined Damian could be, not with him. “This,” and Damian sweeps a hand over the car, the suit, “is for the brother we never should have driven away. The one who gave this name his own brand of honor and power, the one who carved a place for himself in the family. Not as the third Robin in line, but as the first Tim Drake.”

Red Robin’s hands fall enough to be less of a threat. Other than that, he isn’t moving, is listening even if it’s grudgingly, even if it’s with disbelief, even if it’s with skepticism, and Damian smiles softly, so softly, at this beautiful, broken man before him.

“My place?” Is hoarse, a warmer edge that isn’t blank coldness, isn’t so much control. “In case you missed it, my place hasn’t mattered in the last few fucking years–”

“Hasn’t it?” And Dami’s eyes are so green, dark jade that catches in the light, easy to pick out. “Hasn’t it mattered?”

The obvious drawback is an opening, a misstep in the detective’s assumptions that Dami takes the opportunity for what it is.

“I know how it must seem,” and he makes himself stop stepping forward when every instinct in his body screams to approach, to reach out, to take this man in his arms, to whisper endearments, to apologize until the tears dry, until Tim’s arms can unlock, until he can start with the smallest measure of belief with splashes of powerful violet.  

“I know the years we’ve let you draw further away. I know there’s been disdain and cruelty until that’s all there was between us. And I did not choose to acknowledge it, my wrongdoings. It was easier to hide, Tim, just as it was for Jason and Richard and Father. We were cowards, but not once in all these years have you ever been simply forgotten.”

And here is where preparation for their detective is perfectly done when Damian whips out his utility belt computer and quietly holds it out, his hand trembling ever so slightly.

The evidence is there in clips of Todd sneaking into a familiar penthouse apartment with a bag of coffee in hand or taking a First Aid kit from under the kitchen counter to restock it, it’s there when video shows Richard in the Batsuit, in Nightwing, in Officer Grayson, in workout clothes, in jeans and t-shirt with both hands always pressed to the glass case with Tim’s first Robin suit, it’s there when Father sits on the bed in Tim’s old room over the years with a familiar shining, shuriken R flipping over the fingers of one hand. It’s there in the attempted hacks of Titan’s Tower when the Batcomputer pings with alerts of a bad fight for the Titans. It’s there in all the protocols when Ra’s starts movement against Red Robin, when their worst enemies are cataloged to the nines and contingencies from each member of the Batfamily are so obviously ready.

(With some pride in himself, Dami is the one that came up with the plan to take down Brother Blood, while Jason’s shoot-now-ask-questions-later is crucial to dealing with The Light. Grayson’s  experience with the Fearsome Five, Father’s methodical touch to deal with The Insiders.)

It’s there in the smallest details they’d silently done over the years (these things happening without the need to point out how necessary and does Damian ache with the knowledge how easy it could have been to reach out so many, many times), could be enough at a glance to start the seedlings of doubt in Red Robin’s firm belief his place has simply been forgotten.

And Damian hears it in the catch of breath, a soft inward draw. He can’t see behind the whiteouts of Red Robin’s mask, but he hopes, hopes there might be a spark of indecision.

“You were never forgotten.” Gently, Damian reaches out slowly, just enough to close gloved fingers over the screen. “But, you don’t need to hear it from me, Beloved, you need real proof and that we shall provide tonight. Get changed. You’re needed.”

Conflicted as fuck, Red Robin processes as much as he can in that few minutes, muscles in his shoulders unbearably tight. “I’m not going to just patrol with the Bats, especially under your name.”

“It is not as simple as patrol, I’m afraid. We have several Arkham escapees, a possible gang war, and several other take downs lined up,” which is the absolute truth. “I did not lie when I said we needed your help with the overwhelming criminal activity in the last twelve hours.”

Carefully planned twelve hours for one night they’ve been putting into motion for months. 

With the computer in hand, feeling more vulnerable than he’s felt behind the mask in years, Red Robin grits his teeth because only the Bats can do this to him. “I can still help the hell out without the bullshit emotional manipulation. Let me guess, this is Dick’s idea.”

“All of us had a hand in it, actually. The Red Bird itself was my idea. Jason and Father helped to restore it to its former glory. Dick, however, had the idea to make it authentic with the suit.”

“Do you even know how messed up this is for me?” Tumbles right out when he wants cold fury, when he wants to snarl at the obvious manipulation at play–

(while being stupidly impressed they actually seemed to know him to put all the pieces in place, make him play right into their hands with a well thought-out plan. Fuck.)

“The point of all of this, Tim, is to give you one last Robin Ride.”

Cue being at a total loss here because what multiverse did he fall into? Seriously, this can’t be his world, not when those words popped out of Damian’s mouth, and along with it, so many possibilities looming right in front of him.

At the same time, dread crawls up his throat, spills bitter into his mouth.

“Even if you never want us, we will, as you said, learn to live with it.” Damian fights to keep it neutral as just the thought of continuing on in this way as they have for weeks, always aware of the empty spot where their fourth should be, makes him cold all over. Still, this cannot be for them, not if they are serious about setting things right in the only way they can. “Even if that is the case, Tim, I...we. We still want to give you this,” his hand sweeps over the Red Bird again.

Because it’s all so much in one go, things he never thought he’d hear, never could have thought would be offered. Unconsciously, his eyes go to the gleaming fender behind the whiteouts. “None of this is– I brought the Bird back years ago so B could remake it for you.”

And Dami chances one more step closer, “but it is yours, Tim. Father made it for you, to keep you safe, and it will always be yours, Robin or not. It should have been given back to you long before tonight, and for that, I apologize.” He tries smiling just a little, “but, better late than never as they say.”

Red’s got nothing for that, for any of this, stares helplessly while Damian pulls on the hood and face covering, only his green eyes visible. 

Red’s jaw is tight, clenching down because he finally gets it. He isn’t going to wake up in the Tower, asleep at his workstation, thinking this is a terribly embarrassing message from his subconscious.

“You will need this,” and Damian holds out a hand again. This time, a Batcomm rests in his palm. “The others are waiting for you, Robin.”

“I-I can’t–” because this is fucking real, this is really happening. As much as he’s sure Damian is bullshitting him about this not being a soulmate thing, his eyes are still getting hot, his chest aching, his throat tight. “I can’t do this.”

“You can,” Damian counters gently. “We...I owe you this. Dick will argue he does also. Jason as well. We cannot give you the things we have taken, not completely. As much as I wish we could change things, overcome our own insecurities to remind you that you will always have a place…” Dami sighs, “we cannot go back, either. Not really, but in order to go forward, we can give you the proof you need to see you have always had a place. So, just for tonight, Tim, be our Robin again.”

Damian doesn’t give him time to formulate a reply while he feels like he just got fucking stabbed hearing that out of the current Robin’s mouth. 

“This is wrong, this isn’t–”

Damian lays the Batcomm on the top of the car and slowly backs away, melting into the shadows.

“On the contrary,” echoes around him and the lights go out in the underground, only a section of them lighting up the Red Bird. “This may be the one thing we’ve gotten right.” 

The flutter of paper he hadn’t noticed is on the ground from where he’d tossed the old/new suit. 

The chime on his wrist computer is a surprising upload of locations in Gotham pinging his algorithm, indicating a little vigilante action wouldn’t be amiss. Damian apparently wasn’t lying about too many fires and too few Bats. But, there’s too much happening in hot spots, and he won’t make the most crucial if he’s swinging. He needs a Ducati or–

His eyes go back to it, another symbol of his best days. Back when he could call himself a Bat, and it wouldn’t have been a lie.

Under the mask, Tim Drake breathes out, shuttering through the old pain that lights up his brain pan. 

He could turn right the fuck around and walk out of this warehouse with his heart still in check, with his emotions back under control. He could reject this attempt as sure as he’s been rejected for years. 

But the tiny part of him that’s always mourned the loss of his tunic is a stronger voice this time, and his hands twitch in his gloves before moving to pick up the discarded suit again, to look at those short sleeves, the green gloves, the shuriken R that was his design – not Damian’s or Jay’s or Dick’s but his. 

The suit blurs and Red Robin realizes it’s because his eyes are spilling over behind the whiteouts.

[riseofnightwing]

Once Upon a Dream - Dick Grayson Imagine (You'll love me at once, The way you did once upon a dream)

pairing: Dick Grayson x Titan! (Preg!Wifey!Reader)

request¹: When Trigon is controlling Dick, he sees Y / n as his wife instead of Dawn. So he tells Y / n what he saw.

request²: Can you write something about Dick and y/n being pregnant and he is protective over her and the baby? Thanks

notes: I joined these two lovely requests together because I thought they fit pretty well I’m so sorry the delay, I’m back at college and doing both is pretty hard but i did my very best. hope you enjoy it xxxx<3 y/e/c: your eye color

y/n/n: your nickname

“Good dreams, big boy.” I said as I put my son to sleep after telling him all the stories he asked me to. John wasn’t a hard-to-deal kid, he reminded me a lot of myself when I was younger, not the bad things, of course, only the good ones, although I wished he could inherit more of Y/n. Looking back at my past doesn’t make me that proud of who I was, but if I admire someone, it surely is my wife. 

Heading to our bedroom, I entered, immediately locking my eyes for more than a second with a pair of large, Y/E/C eyes set in a pretty face. Y/N was laying down in our bed, reading her book. It didn’t matter how many times I looked at her, she would always look as beautiful as ever. 

“Hey, Boy Wonder.” She greeted me with her specific -and so beloved by me- soft tone of voice.

“Hello, y/n/n” I took my shoes off, sitting in the bed, close to her. Her smell entered my nostrils as I placed a warm kiss on her neck. “How’s our baby and my wife doing?” I caressed her belly, trying to check on our kid as much as I could. Having John four years ago made me way more responsible and careful than I would imagine that I could be someday. Since it, my family had been all I cared for, the hero life didn’t need me as much as they did, or as much as I needed them too. 

“We’re doing fine, he didn’t kick me like yesterday so yes..we’re good for today” she told me with a smile on her face. “But my feet, god, they’re killing me” 

“Well, I think I can help you on this” I told her with a half smile 

“Yeah? Show me how then.” she said and i moved to the end of the bed, sitting with her feet in my laps while i started to massage it.

She left her book on her side, positioning comfortably through the pillows

“I already told you this but..you’re the best husband in the whole world” she said

“I know that, thank you” i said, mocking her 

“You’re so sassy, Grayson” we laughed together. I kept doing the massage for ten minutes when, in a matter of a second, we were interrupted by my phone ringing, showing Jason Todd on it’s screen. He was calling for a video call.

I didn’t talk to Jason for ages, what would he want now? 

I looked at Y/n and she nodded at me, pointing that I should answer and I did. She got back to read her book while I answered his call, but I knew my wife pretty well to know she was still listening.

“Hey, Jay. Long time no see” I said when his face showed up on the screen. He was different, surely not the same Jason I knew 5 years ago.

“Hey, man, not as good as you, I think.” He answered, showing his legs. He was sitting in a wheelchair, I got perplexed. What the hell did happen to him?

“Jason”  I had my hands covering my mouth after passing them through my hair. “What happened?”

“I was stupid. Totally my fault. Riddler and some guys were hitting jewelry stores late at night.” he spoke and I paid attention to every single word “Batman and I staked one out, caught them coming in. Should’ve gone down real simple, but I got too cocky. Big Surprise.” He had his head down, recognizing his mistakes.

“Went straight for him, Though I could take him down on my own. You know the Riddler never uses a gun?” 

I nodded at him, it was true, he never did.

“Well, now he does. Bullet hit on my t5 vertebra. I still have it here.”

“Jesus.. I’m so sorry for that.”

“Gotham’s gotten worse, man” He looked at me “Way fucking worse. Commissioner Gordon’s dead.”

“What?” I was completely astonished by what I heard. How the fuck did Bruce let it happen? 

“Three days ago. It was the joker, and it was bad. When Bruce finally found where he was. It was too late already.” he said “He’s going to kill the joker”

I felt Y/n’s intrigued eyes on me at this point. She knew Bruce almost too much like I did.

“He would never do that. Bruce has a line he’ll never cross” 

“Things have changed, Dick. Alfred Died, I got shot, Commissioner Gordon Died.” Too much information to my own good, I wish I could still be in peace with Yn in bed like I was some minutes ago.

“Why are you telling me all of that now?” I sighed.

“Because you’re the real Robin, man. Not me. He was never the same after you left. Alfred said it. Superman said it. You were the only one he ever listened to. Maybe the only one he cared about after his parents died.” I didn’t answer him this time, it was too much.

“You need to come back to Gotham and convince him not to do it.”

What? Come back to Gotham? 

“I can’t. I swore I’d never go back.I haven’t spoke to Bruce in years”

“The whole thing with Tony Zucco. You know what he’s going through. If he does it, there’s no coming back.” I looked back at him “He’s the only hero that Gotham has left.” he sighed “You’re the only one that could save him” 

He said and hung up, leaving me with innumerable thoughts, innumerable questions.

 I threw my phone at the sofa in front of the bed, getting up and running my hands through my hair. 

I felt a pair of arms hugging me from behind

“Dick.” I heard her voice “I’m here.”

“If bruce wants to do something, he’s gonna do it. We both know that.” I said turning around to look at her.  “He dresses up like a bat to fight crime. That works for him.” I spoke trying to show her my point of view, it was insane what Jason just told me.

“But this idea that I’m the only one that could save him? It’s bullshit.” I complemented, walking side to side in the room while she was looking calmly at me.

“Then, who?” she just asked

“What?” 

“Jim Gordon is dead. Alfred is dead. Barbara’s missing. He fell out with Superman years ago. He’s alone.” She told me, eye to eye.

“He’s always alone, Y/n.”

“Not when you’re around, Dick. How’re you going to feel if you don’t at least try?”

“Bruce Wayne is not my responsibility.” I raised my tone of voice, being hard at what I said. Damn. I knew I had fucked up the minute I said it, so I walked to her.

“I’m sorry.” I hugged her from behind just like she did some minutes ago. “After our baby, if he still hasn’t got shit together, I’ll go. I can’t leave the three of you alone here.” 

“Okay.” She said “Oh my god, Dick, he just kicked, he knows we’re talking about’im”

I smiled and moved my hands to her belly in an attempt to feel our son’s kick’s. It was crazy how much my family meant to me, remembering that I always loved Y/n and now, having a life built with her and calling her “wife” is the most peaceful feeling i’ve ever felt.

Our moment was interrupted by a little figure entering our bedroom. It was John with his sleepy face and his teddybear, “Growley” -which one Gar gave to him on his birthday- and we turned our attention to him.

“Hey buddy, couldn’t sleep?” I asked 

“Growley wants to go with you.” he told me 

“Go where, sweetie?” Y/n asked our older son.

“To Gotham City” He said and I laughed. Did he hear it all?

“Wow. Eavesdropping.” Y/n told me.

“But Growley is your favourite.” 

“He’ll protect you.” John said and left, heading to his room, sleeping again.

“Look honey.” Y/n turned to me, putting a hand on my face and I leaned at her touch, closing my eyes, she always had the power to put my shit together when I couldn’t.

“I know that your relationship with Bruce is more than complicated, and that the last time you saw each other you said some things..But he saved you, Dick.”

“What if you’re the only one who can save him back?” I scoff.

“Baby, that’s absurd.” I told her 

“But what if?” She asked me.

--

The next morning I was ready to take a plane to GC. I called Donna to keep here with Y/n until I got back. The bell rang and she was here. Me and Y/n went to receive our old friend.

“Hey Donn” Y/n greeted her.

“I missed you, sister.” The black haired girl answered my wife.

“Hey crazy chick. It’s good to see you. Thank you for coming.” I told her when she came to hug me.

“No problem, don’t worry, I’ll be taking a real good care of these three”

“I don’t doubt it”

We talked to each other and I was ready to leave.

“I’ll be back in a matter of a second, baby, I promise. I’ll have my phone close every time, call me if you need and i’ll be right back.”

“Dick, I’m the one who should be pretty worried by now, and believe me, I am, so please, take care in every moment of this, right?”

"Come on, it’s me. I’m good at this sort of stuff, remember?" I told her with a cocky smile.

We kissed deeply. I gave John a kiss on his head.

“Take care of your mother and your auntie, alright? That’s your mission.”

“Alright, Dad.” he smiled sweetly at me.

“Donn, call me if she feels anything different from normal, any sight of danger and I'll drop everything on Gotham and I'll be back, deal?” Donna nodded at me.

“You’re everything I have. I love you” I said in my wife’s ear, leaving a kiss on her forehead, and leaving.

--

Gotham was crazy, not the city I knew, the city I left back, this is the closest to hell i’ve ever got to.

I wanted to go back to my family, my pregnant wife, my 4 year old son, my house. But I couldn’t forget that once, Gotham was my home too.

The joker is almost dead. Bruce threw him up from a building and now the police escorted him to a hospital.

I followed to the place that, for a long time, sheltered me. Wayne manor, I needed to talk to Bruce. And I Tried, I told him the joker isn't dead yet and he had a chance to sneak out from darkness. But he didn’t appear so I left.

Although my conscience led me to think I should go back to the better life I chose when I burned my suit, that I should just forget about being Batman’s savior and go back to Y/n, everything kept me stuck on the city. Things happened faster than I could control.

Bruce killed the joker at the hospital. He ran before I could get him, he injured policemen. He didn’t stop at it, he Killed prisoners, nurses, guards. It wasn’t justice, it was a massacre. He couldn’t be saved. He needed to be stopped. I made his name public. 

I drove an operation to get him and he killed all my team.

He wanted me to give in to the darkness. To become him. 

Well, fuck you, Bruce, you win.

I killed Batman.

--

“Dick.” Hands on my face and a voice calling my name, it was all I could understand now.

“Dick, It was all planned by trigon” Rachel was at the batcave, where i killed batman. What was she saying? “Dick, you would never kill batman.”

 “Shut the fuck up” I told her, I had to kill him.

“You’re the boy from the circus, Dick. We’re supposed to save each other.” She said and we were in my parent’s circus. The flying Graysons, my good memories showed up and I woke up.

“I missed you.”

“Rach” I chuckle.

“Welcome back.” She told me and left to find trigon. 

Y/n. Her face filled my mind. Wasn’t it all real? Everything we lived, our home, our son, she was my wife for I don’t know how long and it was all trigon controlling my mind, but still, it felt so real. So good.

I had to find her.

“What’s going on?” Gar appeared with his face pretty much hurted.

“Hey, Gar, I swear I’ll tell you everything later but, where’s Y/n?”

“She’s black eyed, Dick. Outside, Don’t think you should..”

“I will get her back.”

--

When I came outside, all the titans were looking at Trigon and Raven, and I knew her enough to know that she’d deal pretty well with him. I looked at Y/n and she wasn’t awake, so I pulled her by her arm.

I turned her to look at me and she did. 

“Y/n, it’s me, Dick. Wake up.”

“That’s me. The real me.” She had Trigon on her mind still and I needed her back.

“It’s not, I know you, Y/n. I saw you, in my vision, I had you with me so please, come back.”

Our eyes were locked, she seemed to hear what I had said and with no reluctance, she was back, her eyes weren't blacked anymore and she woke up.

“Dick.” she seemed confused. We all were.

“You’re back.” 

I hugged her and she hugged me back, words were never spoken between me and Y/n, although I bet everyone knew about our feelings about each other, I never faced it, until now. I broke the embrace to look at her-

“I had you, Y/n, in my mind, during all the time you were with me and when I faced reality, it was sad that it was only a dream. It made me realize that’s enough of hiding, I need you to keep with me, because I don’t know what I’d do if you didn’t and because.. I love you.”

She looked at me as if she couldn’t believe it.

“I’m being completely honest in every word I said.”

“I’m here,  Dick. Kiss me.” She said, surprising me, and I did. 

“I’ve waited for this for so long.” She said when we parted our kiss.

[redhoodieone]

Hate You More Part 2

Hey!!! Here is Part 2! Hope you all like it because there WILL be a Part 3! And I didn’t actually plan that lol.

WARNINGS: Language. Masturbation. Sex Toy.

“Do you think she’ll really like it?”

Who is Jason talking about?

Is he talking about me? Is he actually trying to make up for what happened between us earlier? Is this his way of saying he’s sorry and that he doesn’t really hate me?

I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. The thought of Jason doing something nice for me makes me suddenly nervous.

What if he smiles at me? What if he hugs me? What if there’s a moment between us?

Just the thought of Jason being nice to me and the possibility of “anything” happening between us sends me into a panic state. I find myself running back up the stairs and slamming my bedroom door shut and locking myself in.

What should I do to prepare myself when I see Jason?

Hiding out in my bathroom that’s privately connected to my bedroom, I stare at my reflection in the elegant massive mirror and begin to list what I should do.

Brush my teeth? I’d definitely need my breath freshly mint just in case we talk very close.

I hastily grab my tooth brush and apply a significant amount of toothpaste just to fresh up my mouth. After the appropriate time of scrubbing my mouth clean, I rinse and spit out the excess fluids and stare back into the mirror.

Touch up my makeup? I could apply more black eyeliner and mascara to make my eyes pop.

After retouching my makeup, I decide to put on my favorite tinted lip balm that’ll make my lips kissable yet comfortable.

I realize then that I should change my outfit. I sigh happily after pulling on my red lady thong. Deciding to slip on my favorite black skinny jeans with the tears throughout my thighs and knees, and my “lucky” red and black sexy corset top. The reason why it’s lucky is because any guy who sees me in it always lets me have my way with him. I chuckle to myself as I put on my black high heel boots because I can only imagine what Jason’s face will look like.

I hope he’ll be shocked as hell. Picturing his mouth hanging open like a cartoon’s and seeing the lustful look in his eyes sends a shiver down my spine.

I then make sure my push up bra makes my cleavage look so fucking amazing, I straighten my long hair and leave it down because I definitely have a hair pulling kink and it’s something I take very seriously.

After the spritz of my go-to hookup perfume, Oud Wood by Tom Ford, I realize I’m at my 150% best and make my way down the stairs. The second I make it to the sliding door leading to the backyard, I freeze.

And then suddenly, I’m hit with a wave of shyness; a feeling I’ve never really felt before. But why the fuck would I feel nervous about around Jason? Because come on—I HATE the fucking guy!!!

The little voice in my mind throws it’s head back and laughs in a tormenting manner at me: because you have feelings for him, you jackass!

No. No, I don’t. I’m not stupid enough to believe that. I should just go outside and see if the fool even flirts with me, because if he does, I can just laugh at him and make him feel like shit.

With one deep breath, I open the sliding door and slip silently outside. The backyard is lit up in a blue hue from the pool and jacuzzi. It’s a beautiful setting, I won’t admit that out loud. I look around and realize Jason isn’t where he was before.

Where the fuck is he?

A wolf whistle behind me alerts me fast.

“Fuck...holy shit. Is today my birthday?”

Spinning around, I’m face to face with a smug looking Jason. I may be frozen in place but I can see that he doesn’t hide the fact that he’s checking me out; like a hunter sneaking up on its prey. Jason licks his bottom lip and winks at me.

“So, what brings you down here looking like...that?” Jason teases.

Why the hell is he making me so nervous?! Out of all the other horrible times we’ve had, I’ve never felt so anxious to tell him to fuck off, but here I am! Standing like an idiot who can’t open her mouth and speak like a normal person!

I find myself pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. Fuck my life. “I...I saw your peace offering. I-I figured if you want to try to play nice that maybe I...I could too.”

There. I said it. Now that wasn’t so hard, right?

Jason stares down at me in surprise. His green eyes so wide and maddening that I find it difficult as hell to breathe. Slowly inhaling some air, I smile at him.

“I saw you got pizza. You also set out my favorite drink. You did all that, right?” I ask, pointing back at the mansion.

“I-uh...I did but-”

“Jaybird?”

We both whip around and see Isabel standing behind him. Isabel Ardila, one of Jason’s many one night stands. My eyes trail down from her curly blonde hair down to her skimpy purple dress with her huge tits practically falling out.

She pouts her pink full lips and flirts at him with her pretty blue eyes.

“Isabel...what-what are you doing here?” Jason stammers out. He instantly looks stunned as if he really wasn’t expecting her to come over.

“It’s a slow boring night. I thought we could hit up one of your dad’s nightclubs and have some fun,” Isabel says, and approaches us. She has a few inches above me, and looks down at me with a smirk. “Look at you all dressed up so sexy tonight, and for Jason...”

I frown and look between Jason and her.

“He is your brother, you know?”

Isabel cringes and grabs Jason’s arm tightly. “Please tell me nothing is going on between you and your sister. That is sooo disgusting!”

I look to Jason and plead with him through our eye contact to say something. Say anything to her! I know Isabel’s right, and that Jason is my brother but he’s also my stepbrother. I also want him to admit that I’m not the only one who is flirting between us...if that’s what we’re even calling it.

I can’t be the only one who has feelings right now. Jason must have them, too.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Of course I don’t have feelings for her! Y/N, you’re my fucking sister, and I think it’s gross as fuck that you’re trying to fuck me. I mean, God damn! We’re family!” Jason taunts. He acts repulsed and pretends to puke in front of me.

Isabel giggles and the two of them laugh their asses off at me. Don’t get me wrong. There is a questionable amount of pain in my chest at what Jason said, but my inner bitch is clawing her way out of my head and I may or may not be responsible for whatever happens right now.

“That’s a bit rich coming from you, Jason. As of this morning, you’ve made it perfectly clear that I’m not in your family. So, if we’re not family, then we’re nothing to each other,” I say with a bitchy grin.

Jason and Isabel aren’t laughing anymore. As a matter of fact, they’re completely shocked at me.

“Oh, and for the record Isabel, there’s absolutely NOTHING going on between Jason and me. I know he’s my brother. I’m not even denying that. But as for him,” I say, gesturing over to Jason, who is staring me down hard. “He doesn’t see me a sister. If anything, he might want to fuck me. He’s completely obsessed with making me hear him fuck other girls. His behavior is disgusting because he’s supposed to be my brother! What he’s trying to do to me is borderline illegal!”

Isabel jerks her head over to Jason. “What is she talking about, Jason?!”

“Go on, Jay. Tell her. Tell her how you always stare at me, tease me, and how you’re always talking about sex with me!” I urge him angrily.

Jason’s eyes darken and for a second, I’m kinda scared of him. He clenches his jaw. “I rather get castrated by the Joker, than ever fuck you, princess.”

It’s like everything around me freezes. My smile shifts into a frown and my confidence is taken away fast like a toy from an adult. Isabel scoffs and shakes her head at me. My cheeks burn with humiliation and I just know I won’t hear the end of this from either of them, especially Jason.

I don’t know whether I’m more embarrassed of the fact that Jason claims he rather get castrated from the Joker, the psychotic clown villain in Gotham than have sex me, or if the thought of having sex with me in general is just so...unbearable.

I didn’t think I was so unfuckable until now.

“That’s fine with me. I rather fuck Dick than you, because he’s Bruce’s favorite son and he’s more of a man than you’ll ever be,” I spit out before turning to run back into the mansion.

——————————————————————————

I slam my bedroom door again for the second time today, but I don’t care. Rage is fucking pumping through my blood and I need a fucking release before I lose control.

Ripping off my clothes until I’m down to my lacy bra and thong, I climb up my big bed and reach into my nightstand to get my dildo and lube out. The thick, veiny replica of a man’s penis is what I’ll have to take out my frustrations on.

I throw myself down; my head hitting the pillow and my hair fanned out around me in a sexy manner as if I’m ready to get my brains fucked out. Popping open the lube, I squeeze a good amount in my hand to smooth it over my dildo. Tossing the lube somewhere on my bed, I pull my thong to the side to reveal my bare pussy.

My fingertips rub up and down my folds. I’m so wet that I know I can slip a finger or two in without any resistance.

“I fucking hate him so much,” I mutter under my breath.

Jason is literally the only guy who could piss me off and make me want to fuck him into submission.

Maybe he could even fuck me until I’m down on my knees for him.

Closing my eyes, I start to push my dildo into me. My walls squeeze around the toy tightly as I gasp at how good it feels to be full.

“Fuck...” I choke out in overwhelming pleasure.

“Fuck princess...”

My eyes shoot open and I’m completely horrified to discover Jason Fucking Todd is standing in MY bedroom, with his mouth hanging open in shock and with wide eyes, and his Fucking hand rubbing against his prominent bulge.

“Jason...what are you doing in my room?” I struggle to say, as I continue to push and pull my dildo in and out of my pussy fast. I just can’t stop. I can’t find it in me to stop when Jason is in my room watching me.

He quickly closes my bedroom door with his foot and makes his way towards my bed to stand directly in front of me. I use my other hand to caress my tits that I so badly want to free from my bra.

“I came to tell you I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Y/N,” Jason begins but trails off when he watches intently when I pull out the dildo and he can see all my slick coated on the sex toy. He licks his bottom lip and bites it. “You’re right though. I don’t see you as a sister or a part of this family because the way I feel for you isn’t the way a brother should feel. I-I never meant to hurt your feelings. I just...I tried so hard to not to fucking fall for you but I did and I can’t stop.”

I look up and notice Jason’s eyes are wet. Despite his usual cocky behavior and sexual advances, he was standing here before me and he appears to regret everything.

I sit up and lean back on my elbows. I drop the dildo in between my open thighs and I force myself to look up at Jason. I expected to see him staring at my obvious insanely wet pussy but his beautiful emerald green eyes were locked on my eyes.

“I really thought you hated me,” I whisper, afraid to hear what Jason says that might hurt me again.

“Oh sweetheart, I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. The only person I hate is myself, and that is something I’ve been doing for most of my fucking life,” Jason admits. He tries to smile but it falls when he sees I’m not.

Jason crawls onto my bed and stops as soon as he’s in front of my legs. He’s immediately nervous; his shaky hands run up my knees and stops until he reaches my closed thighs. He keeps his eyes on me.

“Listen to me, Y/N. You’re right. I’m a fucking asshole. I’m always a dick to you and that isn’t right. I’m sorry for everything I’ve said and done to you, and I know sorry won’t even make up for all the hurt I’ve caused you. Just...please,” he whispers and reaches for my hands. He holds them tightly. “Please give me a chance to show you how much you really mean to me. One chance. Please?”

I know our fight is both our faults, and if one chance can fix this, I’m game.

“Okay, you get one chance Jay,” I say and with an evil smirk that I can’t help, I open my thighs and I pat my pussy. “You want a chance? Make me cum. With your fingers. With your mouth. If you can make me cum so hard, you can do whatever you want to my body.”

Jason’s eyes darken with lust. He licks his lips and he gives me his usual shit eating grin. “Oh princess, you are aware of my oral fixation for pussies don’t you? I’m going to make you cum so hard that you’ll be begging to be mine!”

[batfamscreaming]

superbat highschool au - Halloween

[warning for: non consensual kissing, implied abusive living situations]

As Halloween grew closer, Tommy (bundled up in the same scarf and loafers as Bruce) asked if anyone had plans for the evening. 

--

Clark hadn’t celebrated Halloween in a couple of years now. Not really. Maybe a Halloween party here or there but that was it. Houses were too far spaced out for trick-or-treat back home.

“Uh, I mean I think Bruce ‘n I were going to head to the library again, but--” Clark began, looking to the other boy for confirmation.

--

Bruce began to nod, but--

“No, Bruce and I are gonna go out on the town,” Tommy said, swinging his arm around Bruce’s shoulders and tugging him close. 

“...Tommy, curfew exists,” Bruce said, huffing a little. 

“Not if we break it, it doesn't,” he said, grinning. 

--

“Uh, okay. Is that an invitation then?” Clark smirked.

Breaking curfew once wouldn’t get him expelled.

--

“It can be,” Tommy said. “Harv?”

Harvey gave him a look that called him an idiot.  

“Gotham on Halloween?” he said. “You're not exactly strolling around the hill houses for candy.”

--

“Is it bad?” Clark asked. “I’ve actually never been off school grounds.”

He’d never seen the city.

--

“Halloween’s crazy for crime everywhere,” future lawyer Harvey Dent said flatly. “It's thematic.”

And if Gotham didn't follow a trend towards the thematic… whew. 

Bruce just seemed to be taking a moment to be stunned that Clark hadn't been anywhere outside the school. 

“Okay,” he said, turning to Tommy. “What’s the plan?”

“I was thinkin’ ice cream and bowling,” Tommy said, grinning. “You wanna plan our escape?”

(Bruce had been thinking too much about the library lately. It was time to steer him towards literally any other thinking direction)

And Bruce nodded, accepting that assignment. 

--

“Sounds fun.” Clark said, shrugging on his jacket.

“So how do you usually sneak out?”

--

“Badly,” Harvey said, still crossing his arms and clearly not pleased. 

“Dodge the guards. Hop the gate,” Bruce said. “Not hard. Easier with a rope. Getting in again’s worse.”

“Cause they actually expect it,” Tommy explained before there were any questions. 

“But at least we’re only on the second floor this year. If we weigh down the curtains and leave the window open it shouldn't be noticeable.”

--

“If it helps any I can jump pretty high,” Clark said. “So you shouldn’t have to worry much about me keeping up.”

Totally within normal human standards. Yes.

--

Bruce snorted. Laughed almost. 

“The gate’s ten feet at lowest,” he said. “Plus spikes.”

--

Clark was so stuck between keeping everything under cover and bragging. He could fly since he was 10. Ten feet was nothing. Ten feet was laughable.

He opened his mouth, swallowed, and sighed.

Dammit.

Keep it under wraps.

“Right.”

--

The boys just huddled together again, nodding and still discussing. “So, do we need rope? Or are we gonna be able to grip the bars?”

“I need the rope,” Harvey said miserably. 

“Got it,” Tommy said. “Leave it to me.”

“Please don't steal stuff and get us in more trouble when we get caught.”

“Never,” Tommy promised. “As if Bruce and I would get caught.”

(Bruce laughed then, but it was anxious for different reasons, then.)

--

“I’ll be able to grip the bars.” Clark said, for what little it was worth. For a moment he even considered offering to carry Harvey over on his back, but he thought maybe that was too much.

Could kids his age carry kids their own size on their backs?

He looked pensive for a moment.

…

No. Probably not.

“Anything I can help with?”

--

Tommy shook his head just as Bruce did. 

“Lay low,” Bruce said. “...have any hats?”

--

Clark thought about that before turning and digging through his things.

He slapped on an old, beat up John Deere baseball cap.

--

Bruce made a distressed face. 

“...have any other hats?”

--

“I gotta winter hat but it’s not that cold out.”

…

“What’s wrong with my hat?”

--

“That Bruce’s gotta wear it,” Tommy said, grinning. 

--

… Clark grinned, took off the hat, and shoved it onto Bruce.

--

“Nnnooo,” Bruce said, hat shoved onto his head and shoved down even more securely by Tommy. 

It tilted his dark hair out of place and looked completely out of place with his ironed white oxford and school blazer. 

--

“It suits ya.” Clark grinned.

It really didn’t.

--

“You're a shit liar,” Bruce said. 

“Quick, get the smallest shirt you have, Kent. He still sticks out too much!”

“Just use some of mi--” Harvey started to say. 

But that got hushed as Tommy urged them into a game of Bruce Dressup, and Halloween grew ever closer, until finally the night arrived.

--

Clark couldn’t do anything about Bruce’s very pressed pants, but he could find a small shirt for him.

‘Small’ being relative.

Bruce would drown in it a little, but at least in the end he didn’t stand out so much in his old ratty John Deere hat.

And when the night arrived he followed their lead.

--

….Bruce, unwillingly, donned the shirt and cap when it was finally time, looking a bit more like a ruffian with the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbow and the cap on his uncombed hair. 

It made him look shorter. His face seemed rounder. Almost puppyish. 

He was a very determined looking puppy as they rigged up their window so that the corner of the bunk bed jutted into view of the opening. 

Tommy had, indeed, acquired a rope from somewhere, and they tied one end into a loop, tossing it around the shallow jut of the bedpost and getting ready. 

Tommy was lookout as Bruce descended first. 

Then Harvey. They'd wait for Clark. Tommy last. They flicked the rope until it came loose from the bedpost, gathered it up, and raced to the gate, sneaking around the buildings and in the bushes in the low light. 

The gate was closed for the night, and they snuck under the desk guard to reach it. 

Again, Bruce took it first, climbing up between the bars using the traction on his shoe to get up. 

The rope was thrown over between the spokes at the top. Used to control their descent. 

He ushered Clark to mimic him once he'd made it to the other side and decided it was clear. Harvey had to have his foot in the loop and he pulled over to make it. 

Tommy went last again, staying behind to make sure Harvey had someone to catch him if he fell. 

And they were outside. 

--

It was hard for Clark to do things like these guys.

He… might have flown a little to descend out of the window a little faster, but kept his feet on the wall and his hands gripped to the rope so at least it looked like he was doing it like everyone else.

The gate though.

Ugh.

He tried to mimic Bruce as best he could, but it looked a little too… flawless. He didn’t strain or land on the other side very hard.

But they had made it.

… And outside, in the dark, there was even more light for his eyes to catch than usual.

--

He was lucky the boys were largely too focused on their own descents to notice. 

That streetlights were common enough to make his eyes look somewhat normal for the moment. 

Once they were on the street, Tommy and Harvey definitely took the lead, steering them up north of the academy, to a slightly more crowded--and festive--area. 

--

“Is this what you guys do every year?” Clark asked anyone who wanted to answer.

He always kinda wondered what these rich city kids did for fun.

--

“What? No way,” Tommy said. “I mean. That'd be nice…”

Harvey shook his head, too. His hands were wrapped around his elbows in a self-protective hug. “Normally wouldn't be able to get away with it.”

“Besides. Our old roommate was really bad at stuff,” Tommy added. “Like not getting all of us in trouble.”

“Spent last year in detention,” Bruce mumbled. 

(By now, Clark knew that didn't necessarily mean Bruce had done anything to deserve detention. 

It could've just been he'd been around while someone did something. Or been the dorm mate of someone who did something. 

...Harvey’s caving to come made more sense if he would just be punished anyway, if they were caught.)

--

“So, what, you just spend Halloween in your dorm studying? That’s… a lot less than I expected out here.” Clark said, not looking as defensive as maybe he should have been in Gotham of all places, hands in his pockets and head up.

Casual.

--

(Bruce kept his head down and the baseball cap over his eyes.)

“...what did you think we did?” Bruce asked. “Orgies? I'm taking you out for ice cream and bowling, Kent.”

--

“I dunno… parties? I thought that's what rich kids did. Go to clubs. Drink. That kinda thing.”

“... Not that I'm saying I want to do those things, but…” Clark shrugged.

--

All the same, all three kids had paused in walking to stare at him. 

“...I wouldn't even be able to set foot out of the house if Mom had her way,” Tommy said, staring. 

“....” Bruce just had that look on his face. 

“Hey. I worked my way in,” Harvey said. 

“I did too!” said Tommy, turning on Harvey a little. “I had to barter to get here.”

“...”

Bruce shuffled a little closer to Clark and breathed out, “their dads are the ones who drank all night.”

And that was all he mumbled before trying to step forward and break up the fight again. 

The bowling alley would close, late hours or not, if they didn't get a-moving. 

--

“Oh.” He mumbled to Bruce, and started walking too.

“Sorry, I guess the TV makes you think one thing even when it isn't very true. Sounds like I get it more'n you guys.”

--

Once more they turned, surprised. 

“You've fucked?” Tommy said. 

He had definitely pegged Clark for a virgin. 

--

Clark nearly tripped over his own feet.

“N-no!! No! God.”

He was beet red.

--

“Did you mean ‘out’?’” Harvey asked, baffled, at the same time as Tommy said, “oh. Okay. Harv still has company then, at least.”

Bruce could finally see the bowling alley coming up. Extended hours for the weekend. 

Ice cream parlor across the street. 

Yes. 

--

“Ugh, shut up.” Clark groaned, following them while rubbing his face to try and get some of the red from his cheeks.

--

“Yeah, yeah,” Tommy said, dropping it as they ducked into the building. It was much warmer inside. “...it's not like we have the money to get into clubs or buy alcohol, though. Seriously.”

“TV,” Harvey shrugged, quietly trying to reassure Clark a little that it was fine. 

--

“What’d ya mean? You at least get an allowance, right?” Clark said.

“Even I get an allowance. Or at least paid a little when I help out on the farm.”

--

….Harvey shook his head. “...my family doesn't have the money for an allowance, anyway.”

Tommy just scowled. “If I see any of my dad’s money it'll be long after mom’s died.”

…

Meanwhile, Bruce ducked his head, and pulled out a ten dollar bill, handing it to Tommy, who took it and huffed up to the counter to pay, being the one who was clearly not dark-haired Bruce Wayne in a baseball cap and oversized shirt. 

“...I get an allowance,” he admitted. “But it's not like I’m going to hike ten miles into the city from the manor to use it.”

--

“Jeeze…” He mumbled over Tommy talking about his mom needed to die for him to get his dad’s money.

“I guess that makes sense.” He said to Bruce again, watching Tommy pay for them.

“Thanks for treatin’ us though.”

Even if it made sense Bruce would pay for it. Still polite to thank him.

--

Bruce smiled a little. “Yeah. No problem. It's nice to get out. Thanks for the hat.”

“Shoooes!!” Tommy called once he'd paid, waving them over to change. 

A four player game was being set up for them, the first letters of their names being their designations. 

And ready to go. 

A night away.

--

Clark smiled back.

He got his change of shoes and then looked around for the heaviest ball they had. It still wouldn’t be enough to offset his throw, but it would help. It was easier not to look too strong when you needed to roll it rather than throw it. It was just a matter of dialing back the momentum.

His first throw though it went way too fast. Nothing that would break everything in its way, but still just too fast.

Shit.

He would try and hide his distressed face and play it off and… dial it back for the one after that.

--

The desk manager warned him the ball was probably way too heavy, but thankfully, the other three boys seemed to tack up his wild throw to weight and momentum, laughing wildly as it careened impressively fast-- into the gutter. 

“Beautiful!” Tommy whistled at him. 

“Like you'll do any better,” Harvey said. 

(And Tommy did not.)

But after a few rounds, everyone was adjusting a little better to the balls, and…

Bruce sat beside Clark while waiting his turn, and jeered the others when they missed just like they did him. 

And… seemed relaxed and happy for once. 

Smiling. 

--

“Hah!” Clark hollered as Tommy did just as poorly as him.

As the night went on though he did get used to rolling the ball down the lane and compensating for how little it weighed to him in comparison.

It was a lot of fun.

He cheered and jeered everyone when they did well or poorly, jabbing them with words just the same as they did him. He tended to stick to Bruce more than Harvey or Tommy. They had grown to know each other a lot better over the past month working on their Court of Owls stuff.

It was good.

This was fun.

He was clapping and laughing along with the rest of them, and upon noticing Bruce looked happy too he would give him a little nudge and a smile.

Happy to see him happy.

--

Bruce had gotten a lot better at being casual with Clark with their search together the last month, but-- 

It wasn't as if he smiled much during the investigating. It wasn't like he was giddy over crime scenes. Any excitement he had about finding a pattern quickly turned to seriousness as soon as he had to explain what he’d noticed. 

And in school, he said little. Let people part in front of him or walk by him without any seeming preference. 

But here, finally, it was just fun. 

...through some twist of fate, Harvey’s score was highest at the end of the game. 

They had no real way they planned to reward the winner. But it was fine if they just mocked Bruce's place in dead last. 

He had wonderful aim, after all--if he was aiming for the gutter. 

But when the game ended, Bruce trotted over to the shoes, picking up his and Clark’s, and bringing them back over to change quietly before heading across the street for the last half hour the ice cream parlor would be open. 

Bruce didn't have to tell Tommy what he wanted--a float--but Tommy would ask the other two before trotting up once more with Bruce’s cash in hand to pay and order at the counter while the four slid into a booth. 

And maybe because Tommy was up paying, Bruce found himself sliding in beside Clark to sit across from Tommy, instead of beside him for once. 

--

Clark’s choice of ice cream was pretty much the most boring of all; a vanilla shake.

He sat on the inside by the window, and didn’t think twice about Bruce sliding in beside him.

“How often have you gone bowling before, Harvey?”

--

Harvey shook his head. A lot. “Almost none? I think in Jr High we went once as a class trip, but I was terrible at it.”

“Harv has two settings,” Bruce said, leaning his chin on his hand and very carefully not putting his elbow on the table. “Professional, and worst luck ever.”

--

Clark snorted, “Man now I feel worse, I go bowling like… at least once a year when my friends and I are bored back home. It’s one of the few things to do back in Smallville.”

--

“Yeah?” Bruce said, leaning in a little, interested. “You've mentioned your town a couple times. What's it like?”

--

“Lives up to the name.” Clark smiled. “Small. Bowling alley, gas station, market. Got one street light in the whole town. The farm is about five miles from the center of town, you gotta have a car or a bike to get anywhere.”

“People always hang out by the train tracks or the ol’ Glott farm that’s cavin’ in on itself.”

--

“Does it rain any less?” Harvey asked, a little sardonic, but still listening all the same. 

It was about then that Tommy came back with their ice cream. 

Vanilla shake. Two root beer floats. A sundae. 

But when he made it to the table, he paused before setting things down, as if he had to… look around and see where they were all sitting for a second. 

--

“Yeah but we gotta worry about tornados way more.” Clark said, and was already reaching for his shake since he was the only one to get one by the looks of things.

“Thanks Tommy.”

--

“Y’welcome,” Tommy said, and... passed out the rest. 

Sundae for Harvey. Floats for him and Bruce. He sat across from Bruce at the table, and didn't interrupt the conversation. Just started to drink silently through his straw. 

“...are tornadoes actually like what they say?” Bruce asked. “I read they can pick up a carton of eggs and just set them down miles away, completely intact.”

--

“Oh yeah, they’re capable of some crazy stuff. After one I saw someone’s record just… stuck in a tree. Like it was a razor blade. Powerlines bent over like they were made of playdough. Then sometimes it’ll set a full can of soda down on someone’s steps without a dent.”

He took a sip from his milkshake, oblivious to anything amiss with Tommy.

--

It was a nice way to ease into the later part of the night. A nice wind-down from bowling as they asked questions about Kansas and what it was like to live on a farm. In a small town. 

When his float was almost drained, Bruce stood, saying, “bathroom, be right back,” and turned to head to the back of the shop. 

“Me too,” said Tommy, following along behind him a moment later, wobbling to get out of the table with his long legs. 

(They turned a corner and headed into the boy’s bathroom, and once they were there, door shut against anyone listening, Tommy said, “Bruce?”)

--

“Okay,” Clark said, and thought nothing of it. He slurped the last of his shake through his straw.

But he did overhear their conversation, whether he intended to or not.

--

Neither did Harvey, who had gotten content to just sit and listen after a while, and was now just quietly watching the street go by, trying to find room in himself to finish up his sundae. 

(“Hm?” Bruce said. 

“Are you mad at me?”

“What? No. Why would I be mad at you?”

“You’ve been avoiding me, lately,” said Tommy.)

--

… Clark turned and looked in the direction of the bathroom.

He didn’t look too hard. Not yet. But he was definitely listening.

As far as he knew Bruce wasn’t mad at Tommy at all.

Nothing had changed.

--

“Don't lie to me,” Tommy said, voice no louder, but a thousand times more sharp than it'd been a moment before. 

There was a stutter in Bruce’s heart. 

“We tell each other everything,” he said. “I told you everything. And now all you do is hang out with Clark.”

“...we’re just looking stuff up,” Bruce said, voice low and careful. “It's just hanging out. It's different.”

“Really? Because you barely ask to just hang out with me. You were gonna be with him before I got this plan together, you remember?”

There was a footstep. A set of footsteps. Shuffling around. 

--

Clark narrowed his eyes.

He glanced at Harvey, then leaned his head in his hands to try and hide the line of sight to his eyes as they glowed blue and looked harder.

Into the boy’s bathroom.

--

He'd find them both shuffled into the two-stall bathroom, neither in stalls. Just Bruce taking a step back towards the back wall, and the tail end of Tommy moving forward, teeth clenched in distress. 

“It's not like that,” Bruce said, keeping his voice certain, even if he didn't look it. “We came along, we went with your plan, didn't we? You're still my best friend, Tommy, come on--”

“Prove it,” Tommy said. 

“What?” said Bruce, furrowing his nose. 

“I told you everything Bruce,” Tommy said, and took a step forward once more, even without Bruce moving back. “So if you really care then just--”

And Tommy had pushed Bruce by the shoulders against the wall, and pushed their mouths together. 

For a long, silent moment, Bruce just stared, unresponsive at him. 

Then, he reeled back with a punch, and slammed Tommy flat on his back. 

--

Before Clark knew it he had crushed his now empty shake glass in his hand.

“Gnnhshit.” He mumbled, blinking hard and looking away from the bathroom.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

The woman working behind the counter was already looking up and heading towards their booth to see what happened.

--

Harvey practically jumped in his seat at the shattering, turning to stare. “Oh, crap! Are you okay?!”

He grabbed a napkin and started trying to help, dabbing up the spilled milkshake and reaching for Clark’s hand to check for injuries. 

--

“Yeah, I’m-- yeah I’m fine.”

He showed him his hand.

No blood. No glass stuck in it.

“What happened over here?” The woman asked, and Clark mumbled out something that was hard to hear. Something like ‘wasn’t paying attention’ and ‘sorry’.

--

“There must've been a crack in the glass,” Harv reasoned, helping her pick the glass up from the floor and countertop. “It just broke while you were holding it?”

From the back of the shop, two boys exited the bathroom.

“Did something happen?” Bruce asked, coming over. 

(Tommy was quiet, behind him.)

--

Clark started to help too.

“Broke my glass.” Was all he managed, still a little too stunned to say much.

“You kids be careful, I’ll clean this up. Don’t worry about it.” The woman said, trying to shoo them off lest they end up cutting themselves.

--

The other three figured he was stunned from his glass exploding in his hand, and they shyly backed off a bit as the waitress shooed them.

“Sorry about this-- here,” he said, and shuffled in his pocket. 

He pulled out a five. 

“Whatever doesn't replace the glass is a tip,” he said, handing it to her. 

--

“Sorry.” Clark said again, and carefully got out of the booth, picking any glass off his lap if there was any.

“Thank you young man.” The woman said, not recognizing who it was handing her the money.

--

“It's no problem,” he said, but even though she didn't recognize him at that moment, he still was hit by an overwhelming urge to put the cap on and hurry the group outside. 

If Clark had ice cream in his lap, it was wiped off with napkins, and Tommy said, at some point, “we should probably head back.”

He and Bruce left their floats unfinished, and were ready to get out the door. 

--

“Yeah. Good idea.” Clark said, and quickly started to walk towards the door.

God.

Shit.

Things were going to be so awkward back in the dorm.

Should he ask Bruce about it??

--

Bruce and Tommy said nothing. Nothing at all about what happened. 

They followed Tommy and Harvey back to the Academy’s gates and took the rope out of Harv’s bag to throw it up again and get them all over. 

Bruce first. The surest climber. Clark. Harvey. 

Tommy picked up last. A sure climber, but big enough to catch them if they fell. 

They snuck back on campus. Lassoed the end of the bed in their window, and rock climbed their way up the building in reverse order. Tommy lookout up top to keep the knot stable. Bruce, surest climber, getting up when no one would be there to catch him if he fell. 

...once they were on campus, all three boys fell into their usual quiet, reserved for avoiding detection after hours, but still-- Harvey said, quietly, “...thanks for doing this. I think I needed to have a day.”

“Course,” Tommy said, stripping to his Pjs and grinning. “Anytime.”

Bruce nodded too. 

“It was a good idea.”

...he returned the hat. The shirt. 

He tugged on his night clothes too. 

As if nothing had happened. 

--

Clark followed them all in, kicking off his shoes and sitting on the edge of his bed as everyone wound down.

“... Yeah. Was fun.” He said, trying to sound convincing.

It was already way past hours and he didn’t want to risk sneaking out in his street clothes, so even he changed into his pajamas in the room too. At least the lights were off so maybe they wouldn’t notice anything weird.

Not that he was… that weird. A little more jacked than a sixteen year old should be, but it was dark, so…

He hurried through it and climbed into bed.

--

...tonight, they were all a little too distracted to really notice. 

Even Bruce was too tired to have one of his quiet nightmares, which surprised even him upon waking. 

...and upon waking, Tommy and Bruce would get changed together as usual. 

Head off to class after sitting together at breakfast. 

No hint of what had occurred between them the night before.

--

Clark changed in the bathroom again that morning. He was still too self-conscious to do it around everyone else.

He didn't mention anything to anyone. He ate breakfast with the others, went to classes even if it was just him and Tommy in the same one.

Waited until that evening when again it was just him and Bruce walking to the library.

“Hey, so… last night.”

…

“You and Tommy fight or anything? I thought I heard something when we got ice cream.”

--

There was an uptick in Bruce’s heart rate, but his confused expression revealed nothing of the sort. 

“No? Maybe you heard him spook me when I got out of the stall. Wasn't expecting him.”

--

Ah.

“Okay, yeah. Maybe.” Is what he said instead though rather than keep prying. “Just checking that you guys are okay.”

--

“...why wouldn't we be?” Bruce asked, his own thoughts loud panic bells that couldn't be heard by anyone else. 

No one could know. Even if Bruce didn't want it. That didn't matter as much as Tommy had done it and Bruce was a boy. 

And he didn't want to know what their teachers, or the press, or Tommy’s Mom would do if they found out. 

“Is something wrong?”

--

“Tommy seemed kinda distracted I guess. Quiet. Normally he doesn't shut up.” Clark tried to huff a laugh.

“But maybe I'm reading too much into it. I was kinda distracted too.”

--

“He might be tired,” Bruce said, making a mental note to tell Tommy to talk more. (Maybe it’d even make him happy.) “or dreading break,  now that it's officially November.”

November. 

Clark had made it to the third month. 

--

“Dreading-- oh right, he doesn't seem to like his mom very much.” Clark said, wanting to get off the topic he brought up.

“Man I can't wait to go home and visit.”

--

“...it hasn't been a good couple years between them, yeah,” Bruce admitted. “...what are you going to do at home?”

--

Clark shrugged, “See my friends. See Ma ‘n Pa? Pet my dog?” He chuckled.

“... What do you do on break?”

--

“....” Bruce needed to think a moment. “Walk. Mostly.”

--

“... Walk?”

It sounded so weird Clark needed to make sure he heard right.

--

...he nodded. 

“Around the grounds. I walk. Maybe read.”

He would definitely read. But. 

Even he got tired of reading. 

A massive manor with nothing to do in it but wander. 

--

…

“Don't have any other family to spend Christmas with?”

--

He shook his head. 

“...the Kanes, I guess. But no. We’re Jewish, anyway.”

“...and Tommy and Harvey’s parents won't let them escape long enough for coming over.”

…

“It's fine,” he said, already sensing the look on Clark’s face. “It's been like this for years. It's not upsetting or anything. Just dull.”

--

“Oh.”

…

“Would you wanna come spend it at my place?”

-- 

Bruce turned to look at him, startled. 

“Huh?”

Like he hadn't quite understood for a moment. 

--

“Do you wanna come spend break at my house? In Smallville?” Clark asked again as though Bruce hadn't heard.

“I'd have to call my parents but I don't think they'd say no.”

--

Before he'd even said he wanted to, Bruce was doing math in his head. 

Clark had been open about how his family couldn't really afford GA. Last minute decision to come. If they couldn't afford that with only one kid it might be rough to take in another and 

(Okay. Okay. What do I have to do to get out. How much money. What did he have to do.)

“Yeah,” he said, calculating the price of a plane ticket if Alfred tried to say ‘no.’ Taxi fee. Plane ticket. Get out. “Yeah, if they say yes-- they don't have to worry about much from me, I can pay for my own food and room if they need me to.”

--

Clark laughed a little, “You don't have to pay for room ‘n food. Maybe bus ticket though.” He stopped and looked around for one of the school's pay phones.

“You got a quarter?”

He would need to call and ask. Letters were too slow for this.

--

Bruce didn't usually carry the money around school, but he dropped his book bag and started rooting around in it for a stray quarter in the bottom, finally coming up victorious. 

--

“Nice, thanks.”

Clark took it and walked over to one of the phones bolted to the wall, pushing in his money before dialing back home.

“Hey Ma. … I'm good. Um, question actually. Would you mind if a friend comes over for break? His name is Bruce. … Nah he's-- well he's Jewish but he usually spends it alone, so-- yeah. He can buy his own ticket don't worry about it. Can he use the guest room? Cool.”

Then he paused.

“Uhhhhhhh okay. Hold on.”

He held the phone to Bruce. “She wants to talk to you.”

--

Bruce’s spine was straight as a rail and his shoulders set, the way they always were when he knew exactly what he wanted and was staring down something in his way. 

He nodded and took the phone. 

“Yes, ma’am?” he said. 

--

“Hello, Bruce? Clark says you're thinkin’ about staying with us over break. I'm fine with that but I need to know, have you run this by your parents?” A kind-sounding woman on the other end asked.

“Oh my god.” Clark groaned, having not gotten to that part yet with her and able to overhear it over the phone. He mouthed a 'sorry’ at Bruce.

--

“My guardian will be fine with it,” Bruce said, not letting a pang of anything show on his face. “He's been hoping I'd find someone to be with.”

--

“... Really?” The woman on the other end said. “I know you boys are at school but is there any way I can call your… ‘guardian’ and make sure?”

Clark was rubbing his eyes.

--

“Yes,” he said. “And if you tell him we called Kansas he’ll handle the distance fee.”

Fine. Fine. 

He gave her the manor phone number. 

“Let me call him real fast and make sure he knows.”

He mouthed to Clark, ‘kidnapping plot,’ and rolled his eyes. 

--

Clark gave him a ‘really??’ look like he didn’t quite believe it, but said nothing.

“Okay, thank you Bruce. Is there anything I should know before you come over? Allergies…?”

--

Bruce nodded, looking bored as sin thinking about it. 

He had to let Alfred know the nice lady on the phone was not trying to get permission to sneakily kidnap him or else he'd never get out of here. 

“No, nothing like that.”

--

“Okay, I’ll make up the guest bed for you. Mind handing the phone back to Clark?”

--

“Alright.”

He did. Handed the phone back. 

Listened from the short distance between them. 

You didn't need super hearing to do that. And Bruce’s ears were still sharper than most. 

--

Clark took the phone.

“Yeah?”

“Is this the Bruce you’ve been writing home about?”

“Yeah.”

“You sure his parents are going to be okay with it?”

“Guardian, Ma. He’s got a guardian. And yeah, probably.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end.

“Oh. Ohhhh. Okay, honey.”

Clark thunked his head onto the side of the payphone and looked like he would rather die. “So it’s cool? You don’t have to worry about him getting there or anything. He can afford a bus--” He paused and turned to look at Bruce.

“You gonna get a bus ticket and come with me or like…?”

--

“However I should get there,” he said, letting Clark suffer. “...might have to borrow your hat again for the first part, if it's a bus from here.”

--

“Yeah he’s gonna get a bus ticket with me.” Clark said. “Anyway we got studyin’ to do so--”

“Okay honey. I’ll call Bruce’s guardian tonight to make sure. But I guess I’ll see you in a few weeks?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Love you, sweetie.”

“.... Love you too, Ma.” Clark said a little quieter before saying goodbye and hanging up.

--

“You've been writing to her about me?” was the first thing out of Bruce’s mouth. 

--

“Yeah?” Clark said. “I told her I made friends with my roommates. If I didn’t tell her that she’d think I was miserable and alone.”

“... Mentioned we’ve been working on a report, but that’s it really.”

--

… “Oh, okay,” Bruce said, not really sure what the knot in his chest (which was normal to have) meant right now, and whether it was loosening or tightening at that. 

“I'll call Alfred,” he said, starting to dig around for another quarter in his bag. “You can go ahead if you want.”

--

“Nah man, I wanna see if he really does think this is a kidnapping plot.” Clark grinned, leaning up against the wall.

--

“Ugh,” Bruce said, rolling his eyes again and shoving in the quarter. “I'm doing it so he doesn't.”

He dialed a number. Waited. 

“Hello. Alfred Pennyworth. You've reached the Wayne Estate.”

“Hi Alfred,” Bruce said. “I'm going to Kansas for winter break.”

--

“Pennyworth.” Clark whispered in disbelief.

What. A. Name.

--

Bruce turned back to look at him. Whispered: “I could've been a millionaire named ‘Pennyworth.’”

“Oh? I see it's all already been decided then, has it Master Bruce?”

--

“Master Bruce?”

Clark was grinning from ear to ear, like this was the most hilarious thing he’d ever heard.

Holy crap was he glad he stuck around for this conversation.

--

That one, Bruce kicked him for. 

“...I'm just going to stay with my roommate for a bit. Okay?”

“I see. And which roommate moved to Kansas, again?” Alfred sounded dry. 

“...the new one’s from there,” Bruce said. “Look, his mom’s going to call tonight and make sure it's alright. I've still got plenty of allowance. I'll just pack weekend clothes and head out from school.”

“...I see. Are you sure you wouldn't like to--”

“Yes.”

…

The other side of the phone was quiet for a while. Bruce just stared down at the buttons. 

“Of course,” Pennyworth finally said. “...but please. Try to keep me more upbraided on things, wouldn't you?”

“It's not hard to find o--”

“I’d just like to not have to go searching all the time is all,” Alfred interrupted. And Bruce went silent again. “...I'm glad you've found someone to spend break with. I'll let his mother know it's fine.”

“...thanks, Alfred,” Bruce said. 

And he hung up without saying goodbye. 

--

Clark didn’t move from the kick, but his amusement died a little when things got… not exactly antagonizing between the two, but not fully great either.

“... I’m sure my mom will give him our address and everything.” Clark said when Bruce was finished, pushing himself from the wall so they could start towards the library again.

--

Bruce nodded. Headed off still feeling good about getting out, but… 

Alfred made it hard sometimes. 

“Yeah. He'll ask. What are we looking for tonight?”

--

“Left off with the Belinsky murders.”

[b-rainlet]

ecco vs/+/or tetch ;). also if you want more alice vs/+/or jervis

This is so hard, why would you do this to me :D

Only Ecco/Jervis for now, this got way too long omg (Tetchcest will be published in a separate post)

(Also beware the stray Ecco/miah analysis that sneaked in there?? I just have lots of thoughts about Ecco lmao)

(Also also I managed to sneak Jerome in there ajsnsnsnd)

Okay, okay so Ecco vs. Jervis? Ecco wins, 100%.

Like, Ecco does her research. Before she met Jerome, she probably already gathered all the info she could get on his accomplices and how he managed to escape Arkham and the like and I feel like she would've been prepared for Jervis.

(In fact, I believe she only ended up hypnotized in the first place because both her and Miah were probably too sure of themselves? Like, they probably didn't consider that Jerome was planning on being taken so therefore Jervis and Jonathan could've simply waited around Ecco's apartment to follow her to Miah's hideout.

But just between us: The whole place is full of cameras and somehow Ecco opens the door to Jervis and Jonathan? I mean, does Miah have one of those speaker systems so Jervis was able to hypnotize her from the other side of the door? I think there was a little suspension of disbelief involved actually).

Anyway Jervis isn't skilled in hand to hand combat and spends his confrontations with Jim hiding behind hostages or siccing his puppets on him (or even Ecco as his accomplice in S5) so Ecco just needs to get close enough to get a good swing in.

And she'd probably be smart enough to carry/wear some earplugs around Jervis if she's planning on attacking him or if they're on hostile grounds with each other. (Because canonly speaking, I don't think he'd hypnotize her. They like each other too much, there no reason for him to do it -other than his desire to be with her romantically-)

(She may even go out of her way to pretend she's hypnotized to trick him and get close enough to knock him the fuck out or kill him, depending on what's her mission there).

Ecco + Jervis....well, we all know my standpoint there aksnsnsn.

I have rambled about this countless times, but maybe not in public so to make it brief, I'm just saying that Ecco is probably the perfect doll Jervis could ever envision.

Like, his - and Miah's - whole thing is control and Miah has expertly shown that he can control at least one person to the point they would willingly die for him without being outright hypnotized and that's big.

On one hand I think that would incline Jervis to work with Miah in the first place - because he recognizes his talent and Ecco is like this shiny little trophy Miah can show off like 'Look what I accomplished, look how powerful I can be'.

And on the other I feel like how Ecco behaves around Miah and is loyal to him is exactly how Jervis wanted his relationship with Alice to be and once again, Miah didn't hypnotize Ecco.

She's doing all this without being forced and Jervis is fucking fascinated by that. He wants her. He wants her to be willing to die for him. He wants her to belong completely and utterly to him alone so he's the one who can show her off and have someone be loving and loyal without the added empty eyes blankly staring at him, expecting the next orders.

(Also I think he likes to paint himself as a gentleman and romantic, so he'd make it this whole show of how lovely Ecco isn't treated right and he would treat her like a princess obviously, completely disregarding the fact that she's really only valuable to him because Miah treated her so lowly and hurt and abused her because that's what made her so loyal. And if need be, he's gonna pick up some of Miah's methods to keep her in line. Only out of love though).

But I do also think that Jervis would see pre-gas and bullet Ecco as a powerful asset to the league and we have seen them get along greatly so if Ecco had more autonomy, he'd definitely treat her like an equal (like he treats Jerome or Jonathan) and he definitely values how she's similar to Jerome but that's a whole other rant.

(Also....he's hot. She's hot. I like them both. Why not like them while they smooch and Jervis gets handsy enough Ecco has to swat his hands away).

One more rambly thing while I'm at it tho:

I think it's very important for Miah and his influence within Gotham to have Ecco at his side.

I mean, not only does she do everything, from recruiting the Maniax to turning Jeremiah into a godlike figure, a messiah to be worshipped, to working with his allies and fighting his enemies, no, she's also his only 'proof' of his power so to say.

I mean, by the time S5 rolls around he does have a reputation among the citizens of Gotham but the villains? I think it's important for him to have Ecco around so he can show off how he can be cunning enough to get people on his side + as a way of threatening them by showing them how cruel he can be (which can range from stuff like using Ecco as his foot rest to outright slapping/choking her in front of people and have her thanking him for it).

If he doesn't have Ecco anymore, not only does he lose his right hand woman, he pretty much loses all his connection to his followers and the villains he worked with and it's gonna be a blow to his status as feared villain because the one who's actually a threat is gone, plus he can't use her to seem more imposing by bossing her around.

Someone has made the argument before that Miah's shit at captivating people through his words and persona (since Ecco draws them in and the moment he's alone with the maniax he loses them and has to burn them alive before they turn on him)-

-*cough cough* Jerome/Ecco parallels *cough cough*-

-so I think it's safe to say that killing her off may have been one of the stupidest decisions he's ever made. And not just because I like her.

He's never gonna find somebody he can manipulate to that point again because unless he plays the long con and really dedicates himself to it (which I think he's too impatient to do after the gas, he freely rolls his eyes at Ecco when he's annoyed with her, I don't think he's patient enough to play the dotting and loving partner for months to get his new Harley to the point she'd shoot herself for him), no one's gonna fall for him.

Jerome? Jerome could easily aquire a Harley and he'd just as easily keep her (mostly because he'd see her as a powerful asset rather than a mindless bimbo to worship him) but Miah? Nah.

He may have the role of helpless victim down but now that he's known as a villain it's gonna be harder to pull off and lure somebody in.

His safest bet would be kidnapping a kid tbh, -not that I ever thought about him kidnapping Barbara Lee, noooo-

Anyways, other fish in the sea? Miah can be lucky the villains still work with him without Ecco present as a mediator, finding a new girl to replace her is gonna be impossible.

(And ohhhh, the deliciousness of a fic where Miah realizes just that but still alive Ecco - because she's always alive, safe for two wips of mine - doesn't wanna go back to him, yeeeeesssss).

Ecco or Jervis?

Well, I don't think anyone's gonna be surprised when I go with Ecco here :D

I mean, I love Jervis and I love the storyline of Alice/Jervis and how neatly it ties into S3 but Ecco is my sweetheart and my baby and can possibly only be topped by Jerome.

-quite literally-

Because while I adore Ecco, canonly speaking there's not much there, I just decided I wanted it to be that deep whereas Jerome has a lot of canon interactions with people and a super interesting storyline, plus a complex familial situation and just...like, not to bash on Miah but he has the perfect set up to be the Joker because he's been around since S1 and him and Bruce have an actual relationship that evolves over time and he has allies he actually gets along with and he's had at least one scene with most of the mains and backstory with most of the mains and it's just so good.

Like....if they'd introduced Ecco independently from Miah just to give Jerome a Harley, I think that would've actually been my dream come true.

(But they couldn't give him a Harley because apparently their definition of Joker/Harley is 'abusive' and it would've been super ooc to suddenly have Jerome run around choking girls into submissions and shooting them so they're not better than him when he's canonly into women who could kick his ass and values them as potential allies (Bridget)).

[avengerscompound]

The Tower: The Queen of Asgard - 33

The Tower: The Queen of Asgard An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing:  Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 2513

Warnings: Canon typical violence

Synopsis: The twins are now three and while the Avengers know that Clint and Thor are the biological father’s none of them know or care which blond, blue-eyed baby is related to which man.  When Riley gets the power to control wind and it becomes evident that she is the heir to the Asgardian throne, Elly, Steve, Thor, and Tony take the twins to Asgard to train her.

Not every Asgardian is happy with their king’s choice of consort, nor the impurity of the heir’s blood.  While others expect Thor to make things more official.  What’s clear is, the role of Queen of Asgard is not easily filled.

Author’s Note:  Written with @fanficwriter013​

Chapter 33: The Battle for Asgard

We came to on the ground.  The ropes that bound us were still partially in place like there had been an attempt to remove them but it had been interrupted.  Around us were the sounds of battle.  Metal hitting metal.  Bricks crumbling.  Shouting and cries of pain.  Our friends and the Asgardian guards were fighting an army of what looked like angels.  I couldn’t see the children anywhere but the threads that ran from me to them stretched off behind the throne with one that connected me to Loki.  Standing over us was a giant grey wolf.  It was snarling and attacking anyone that came near.

Steve reacted first, throwing up his arm like he had his shield to protect us from the wolf, forgetting that he didn’t actually have his shield here with him.

It didn’t matter.  A large shield of light, much like Sam’s wings, spread out over all over us.  Wanda’s powers glowed pink and the ropes and thread that bound us together disintegrated.

“It’s okay, Steve,” Bucky said, pulling himself to his feet.  “That’s Fenrir, he’s protecting us.”

Steve didn’t lower the shield, but he looked uncertainly at Bucky as he tried to push through the shield.

“Steve, seriously.  He’s fine.  I can… it’s like I can understand him,” Bucky said.

Steve looked around the group and nodded.  “Elise, suit up. Try and get to the kids.  The rest of you, get to a weapon if you need one.  Bruce, we might need Hulk in charge for this.  We need to shut this down.”

Bruce nodded and his body shifted.  Becoming larger and his face shape changing more as the Hulk took complete control.

I tapped the earrings and nanobots bled out of it forming my very own iron armor.  Overlaying the visor was a kind of head-up display that was analyzing everything that was happening around me.  “Hello, Elise.  I’m charged with getting you to safety.  You wanted to call me Synergy?”

“Yes, but… no… I have to help,” I said.  “I can’t just run.”

“That’s not what I was designed for,” Synergy replied.

“Cut the shit,” I snapped.  “I know Tony hasn’t just made me a run-away machine.  We’re fighting.”

“Yes, miss,” she said and the display changed slightly.  “Entering combat mode.  I am able to read micro-expressions.  Just move naturally.  I’ll keep up.”

Steve dropped the shield and everyone scattered.  Hulk charged into the fray, grabbing angels out of the air and throwing them.  Sam spread his wings and took off, kicking an angel in the face and stealing their sword.  Natasha disappeared but I could see the end of her thread running toward the throne where the babies were.  Clint ran out, and as he broke into the crowd, Fandrall called out to him and tossed him a bow, Clint changed his direction, heading toward Fandral, I assume to get the arrows to go with it.  Tony took off into the air and started blasting.   Bucky touched Fenrir’s side, and the wolf crouched and let him climb onto its back.  Steve ran grabbing the first thing he could find and throwing it at an attacker while Wanda took off into the air.  She stopped and looked up and the ceiling disappeared.  In the space above it, a large fleet of ships hovered.  Carol was currently locked in battle with them and Wanda took off towards her.  Thor called for Mjolnir and took off into the fray, casting lightning around him.

I leaned up and the suit took flight, I fell into synch with Tony and we began fighting back to back.

“The babies are okay?”  He asked as we did a combo move, spinning in the air as we blasted the angels around us.

“Yes.  Loki and Natasha are with them.  She’s cloaking them,” I said.

The angels seemed to keep getting distracted by Sam - who had now worked out he could literally throw shards of light out of his wings like a weapon.  They would stop fighting and watch him while talking to each other in their native tongue. 

“They think he’s one of them.  Like an important one,” Clint yelled up as he loosed an arrow, piercing an angel’s wing.

“Yeah, baby!”  Sam called back.  “I am an angel!”

We began to get an upper hand.  There were so many, but there were more of us and we had a large contingency with powers.  Mjolnir flew from one hand to the next.  Thor used her to slam into the ground taking out a swarm of angels that were trying to overwhelm him.  She flew to Natasha who used her to stealth strike some angels that were getting too close to the twins.  Then to Steve who dragged a bolt of lightning through the roof and took out a large group.  To me as I swung her, slamming her into someone’s face as I used an energy blast to take out another person.   She followed the path of the threads that connected us like she could feel them too and knew where she was needed.

Just as it looked like we were about to subdue the last of the angels there was a loud crash at the far end of the hall and a burst of black energy.  The red-headed woman strode into the room followed by what looked like a whole new army.  She was flanked by a man and a woman who were dressed differently to the others.  More regal.  I assumed they were the king and queen of Heven.

“Enough of this!”  She shouted and then spoke in what sounded like two completely different dialects.  “Surrender the throne!  I am the rightful heir.”

Thor flew up in front of the group and stood, squared up, not giving an inch.  “What rightful heir?  Why are you doing this?  We have no quarrel with your people.”

“But we have a quarrel with yours.  When your father conquered us.  We took your heir and now we will take the nine realms,” the man said and attacked Thor.  The army charged in and the woman who had attacked Riley and I led them.

“What did she say, Barton?”  Tony asked as he swooped around towards Clint who had been bailed up against the wall.  Tony and I took out his attackers and hovered near him while he caught his breath.

“Just that she was the firstborn child of Odin and it was her right to rule,” Clint said.

“Wasn’t the firstborn a son?”  I asked.

Loki appeared beside me, giving me what felt like ten simultaneous heart attacks.  “She has transitioned, fool.  I would have thought that concept wouldn’t be hard to understand.”

“Jesus, Loki,” I said.  “How did you sneak up on me when I’m fucking connected to you now?”

“You’re what?”  She asked.

“Connected.  That’s my power.  I see a thread between me and my family members.  I can feel them with it,” I say.  “I know where they are.”

Loki looked at me with her head tilted, like she was trying to process a great deal of information.  “There is a thread between you and I?”

“Yes.  Here,” I said, running my hand along it.

“Is there one between you and her?”  She asked.

I narrowed my eyes and watched the redhead locked in battle with T’Challa and several members of the Dora Milaje.  There was a small thread of light that ran from me to her.  It was faint and muddy and when I put my hand on it the feeling I got was confused and … wrong.  Like they were being muted by something else.

“Yes, there’s something.  It doesn’t feel right though.  Plus it’s faint,” I said.

“I wonder… there should be no need if they raised her, but a connection means she is family.  It’s not about blood because you have a connection with me.  They might have messed with her mind,” Loki suggested.

“You two work this out.  We’re gonna get back into it,” Tony said, grabbing Clint under the arms and taking off.

I put my hand on the thread that ran straight up into the air to Wanda and sent my thoughts out.  “Wanda!  We need you here.”

We continued fighting as Wanda floated back down through the ceiling and she turned and looked at the woman as he fought.  “Yes,” she said.  “Definitely mind control.  I need to get closer to do something about it.”

The three of us moved in and Wanda’s eyes began to glow.  Loki stepped up and began to fight the redhead pulling two long blades from the air and welding them with deadly proficiency.” 

“Sister, we need not fight.  Surrender to me and you may have the throne of Jotunheim as you were destined,” the woman practically purred.

“If I wanted the throne of a lonely ice planet I would take it.  Just as I took the one here.  I understand your cause, it’s a pity that you do not, sister,” Loki countered.

The thread got brighter and I called Mjolnir.  It changed direction mid-flight and flew into my hand.  I ran a current of electricity through the thread and it pierced the woman’s body.  Her eyes flared pink and blue as the electricity blending with Wanda’s powers and she screamed and dropped to the floor.

The fighting paused for a moment as everyone turned to see what was happening.  Wanda moved in closer putting her hands on the woman.  “Angela!”  The queen of Heven screamed running towards us followed by the king and several Heven warriors.  Thor called Mjolnir and she pulled free of my hand, flying into Thor’s.  He summoned a lightning bolt and slammed her into the ground.  It threw the entire army back, giving Wanda more time to work.

The pink light faded, and Wanda helped the Red Head to her feet.  The thread between us was brighter now.  Just as bright as between Loki and me.  She blinked slowly looking dazed and held up her hands and called out something in the language of Heven.

The angels all stopped fighting and dropped their weapons.  “People!”  She called again.  “I apologize.  The fight is over.”  She turned to Thor.  “Brother.  I apologize most to you.  If you must arrest me I shall go willingly.  I was not in my right mind.”

Thor approached her.   “Sif!”  He called.  “Take the king and queen to the dungeons.”

Sif gestured to some guards and they muscled the two rulers of Heven out of the throne room.

“Aldrif?”  Thor asked, extending his hand.

She winced and shook her head.  “That is my dead name.  It is Angela.”

“I apologize.  Angela,” he said, taking her hand.  As their skin touched his whole body stiffened and his eyes glowed a bright blue.  Everyone went straight to attack mode and stepped forward, but I held up my hand.  This was not her attacking him.

“Wait!”  I called.  “He is having a vision.”

When Thor came to again he shook his head and smiled a real genuine smile.  “I saw you, sister.  Sitting on the throne.  Ruling Asgard and the Nine Realms fairly and wisely.”

She shook her head.  “I couldn’t.  You are the king.  It is your place to rule.”

He clapped his hand on her arm and shook her head.  “Don’t you see… I don’t want it.  I have never wanted it.  I do it because there is no other choice.  If there were anyone else capable of the job I would let them have it.  I want to be with my family.  I want to raise my children.”

Loki rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything.  Angela looked around at the hall and up at the throne.  “I shall never bear any offspring.  You and your daughter will remain direct heirs to the throne.” 

Thor nodded and dropped to his knees before her.  “I am aware. I defer to you, sister.  You are the rightful heir.”

“Get up,” she said.  “You are not lesser than me, brother.  We are equals.  But if it is what you wish, and what your vision saw, I shall take the throne.”

“Good!”  He cheered getting back to his feet and pulling her into an embrace.  “We have much to organize. Many things to set right.”

“Yes, and I promise we shall,” Angela replied.  “But my people did you the disservice of attacking you during your bonding.  You should finish and make it official.”

Thor turned to Wanda.  “Can you fix this, my love?”

She looked around and nodded, her whole body became absorbed by the pink light of her powers and spread out.  Damage was undone, wounds healed.  When she settled back to the ground the only sign that we’d even been in battle was the foreign army in the throne room.

The armor on Tony and I retracted leaving us back in the clothes for the ceremony and we all moved up to the throne.   Bruce returned to that midway state where he was both Hulk and Bruce at the same time.  Natasha brought the children to us and as the room settled and people returned to their correct places, we passed the children between us, cuddling and kissing each of them.

When the room settled again the high priest moved forward again, still visibly shaken.

“Friends and loved ones, people of Asgard and the Nine Realms,” he announced.  “Our lovers have taken their journey and all have returned, stronger and knowing their place with each other.  They now bear the mark of their clan and that mark shall be branded to each, a visible symbol of the bond they share.”  He touched each of us in turn.  When he touched me a burning sensation seared the skin on my forearm.  I looked down at it and saw a symbol, it looked like part of a star over two connected circles.  One of the sides of the star was missing and instead, one line formed an arrow.  There was an M attached to one side.  Each line was traced in a different color, so you could see the element for each person.  Wanda’s M formed part of Sam’s symbol.  Clint’s arrow came off of Bucky’s star that sat on Steve’s shield.  One circle was half Tony’s arc and half the symbol for radiation symbolizing Bruce.  There was part of Mjolnir making up the star, as was Natasha’s widow mark.  Right in the center of the star was a v shape turning it into a heart.

“As above, so below,” he said, returning to his place on the platform.  “These ten people are bonded.  They will have this bond for the rest of their lives, sharing their highs and lows, protecting and caring for each other.  None shall come between it and it will not grow weak with time.  I present them to you now bound together as family.  They may now seal it with a kiss.” 

We smirked at each other and each person turned to the one closest.  For me that was Sam.  He pulled me into his arms and we kissed.

// NEXT

[psychovigilantewrites]

I Need You

Pairing: Dick Grayson/Reader Genre: Smut Summary: The moment you fell in love with him was when he smiled at you as Robin. But now that Bruce adopted you, Dick has become your older adoptive brother who sometimes sleeps with you in the same bed. What will you do when your lust overpowers you, and you start to touch yourself while he’s right there, sleeping?

You didn’t have a tragic backstory.

There were no hungry nights, or abusive parents.

There were no parents, full stop. You never knew them. And you were really okay with that. Life happens. You didn’t blame them for anything, except maybe not considering birth control.

You were just an orphan, living in an orphanage, and doing orphan things like sneak out at night for little “adventures” as you liked to call it. The orphanage wasn’t bad either. The people who ran it were nice people, although perhaps just a little boring.

Which is why you liked to walk around at night. You didn’t have game consoles and the books inside the mini library you had read time and time again.

So there you were at 14, just wandering around Gotham at night, giggling at men trying to pick up prostitutes in cars, and avoiding the drunken homeless who liked to get a little aggressive when asking for spare change.

When you walked around, you felt like a different person. Your imagination was what kept you entertained, and honestly, optimistic about the world.

You could pretend to be whoever you wanted to be. That night, you were a secret Russian spy, walking by the blocks of loud club music and neon lights, trying to identify the man who was working with the Americans, planning to kill the Russian president.

You stood outside the club from across the street, waiting for someone to come out. Someone who would look like a traitor to the Motherland.

And there you found your culprit, a man in his mid-30s, with blond hair slicked back, a white shirt that plunged down to reveal his hairy chest, and a pair of sunglasses- at night. You thought he looked villainy enough.

Fueling your imagination, you followed the man from the club. He walked a couple of blocks down, and then turned inside an alley. Smiling to yourself at the excitement you felt, you crossed the road and followed him into the darkness.

You pouted.

You had lost him. The alley was empty except for a pair of cats hissing at each other in front of a metal trash can. Sighing to yourself, you decided to give up on your little fantasy and head back to the orphanage before anyone noticed you were missing.

“Why are you following me?” you heard the sudden threatening voice first before you felt a hand grab your arm tightly, spinning you around and pushing you up against the alley wall.

Your eyes widen and started pooling with tears when you saw the same man in front of you, holding your neck now with a hand, and the other, a gun pointed at your face.

“I’ll ask you again, bitch,” he spat, “Why are you following me? Who paid you? Tell me!”

You yelped out loud when he slammed your head against the wall.

“No- no one!” you sobbed, “I’m sorry! I was just bored!”

“The truth, before I shoot you in the knee!” he growled.

“I swear!” you cried, “Please, I swear. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Stupid. You were stupid. Curse your boredom, and curse your imagination. Who were you kidding? You weren’t a Russian spy, nor were you an undercover celebrity, or an investigative journalist. You were just a bored girl with no parents.

“I will shoot your cunt off,” he roared, “And then I’ll fuck whatever’s left of-”

The sound of sudden wind interrupted him mid-sentence. The pressure on your neck disappeared, and so was the man in front of you.

Instead, he was four feet in front of you, on the ground, face bloodied and unconscious. Over him was a tall, dark shadow.

You whimpered in fear, and backed into the wall, praying for it to swallow you up. You slumped to the ground, cowering up at the shape.

“Are you hurt?” a gravelly voice said, coming from the dark shadow.

You didn’t dare answer.

“B!” a chirpy young voice suddenly appeared from above you. A blur of red and green dropped from the sky and landed in front of the shadow.

“Why didn’t you wait for me, B?” the boy you knew was called Robin panted. That’s right. Robin. Then the tall, dark, shadow must be-

“Earth to Batman?” you saw the back of his head cock to the side. He turned around and finally saw you. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t see you there! Are you okay?”

Robin walked over to you. He was taller than you, and muscular. He looked more like a man than Boy Wonder. To you that is.

“I’m Robin, and this is Batman. You’re safe now, okay?” he gave you a warm smile that made your stomach tighten. Even through the white lenses of his mask, you could tell that he was being genuine. He offered you a hand to help you up.

“O-okay,” you gulped, you took his hand and allowed him to pull you up with strength you did not expect. You were standing closer to him now, and you realised that he couldn’t have been much older than you.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

You told him.

“Hey, I’ve seen you before haven’t I?” he queried.

“Robin,” Batman suddenly said in a cautionary voice, stepping forward. You finally saw him properly. Indeed, he looked exactly like the blurred photos in the news.

“No, no,” Robin shook his head, “We’ve seen her before. Around.”

Batman took a look at you.

“Yeah, I’ve definitely seen you. You’re usually alone, though,” Robin said again.

“I like to walk around,” you answered sheepishly.

“At night?” Batman disproved, “Where do you live?”

“At the orphanage on Murphy Street,” you told him.

Silence.

“Why were you following that man?” Batman broke the silence.

“Well,” you started blushing, embarrassed, “It’s stupid. I was just bored.”

“You like to follow people when you’re bored?” Robin chuckled.

“It’s not like that!” you huffed defensively. Even though it was kind of like that.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make fun of you,” Robin apologized.

“It’s okay,” you shuffled your feet, “I should get going before they find out I sneaked out again.”

“Okay,” Robin nodded, “Stay safe.”

“Th-thank you,” you looked at him, and then at Batman, “For saving me earlier, too.”

Batman gave you a quick nod, and you hurried back to the orphanage, unaware of the two jumping from roof to roof behind you, making sure you got back okay.

Bruce Wayne waltzed into your orphanage two days after that, with the proper paperwork to officially adopt you.

It was revealed to you after the first 6 months of living with Bruce Wayne and his adopted son Dick Grayson that they were Batman and Robin, the very same ones who saved you that night. You didn’t believe it at first, but they showed you to the Cave behind the old clock, and you couldn’t deny it anymore.

Fast forward 4 years later, you were now a Wayne, with an adoptive older brother and an adoptive younger brother. Bruce adopted Jason Todd two years after you, and he became Robin while Dick had moved on to being Nightwing. You weren’t interested in the vigilante life, despite your previous fantasies that you were one.

You were very happy where you were, as a normal girl in a not-so-normal household.

The four years you spent with Dick, you got close to him. He was still warm and chirpy outside as the day you met him, yet you knew that he had changed drastically inside. He aged- not in the physical sense. There was just a look in his eye that said he had gone through a lot.

Yet despite how busy he was as Nightwing, he always spent a lot of time with you. You were his dear little sister after all. He made you feel safe, as he had all those years ago when Batman had saved you.

You would watch movies together, fall asleep together, cuddle together in front of the fire during winter, and spent the summer splashing around in the pool outside.

Your relationship with the younger Robin was good too. You loved him dearly, and tried to be a good older sister to him, constantly giving him advice and being a listening ear if he ever needed one.

You were lucky.

You didn’t have a tragic backstory.

The only tragedy that you faced was the developing feelings for your older adoptive brother.

You probably fell in love with his smile the first time you met him. The smile that warmed you up and calmed you down. When Bruce took you in and introduced you to Dick Grayson, your breath hitched when you stared into his beautiful, perfect face and bright blue eyes.

And then your already wild imagination went ahead and got dirtier the more time you spent with him.

Summer was your favorite time of the year, because Dick Grayson during summer was a sight to behold.

The first reason was his skin. His skin got a bit tan during the summer due to the sun- and the fact that he liked to workout shirtless. He jogged shirtless, he swam shirtless, he helped Alfred mow the lawn shirtless. And so, the darker warm shade of his skin accentuated the contours of his muscles. At his face, his tanner skin made his blue eyes looked even more striking due to the contrast.

The second was due to the heat. The heat, on top of making him take off his shirt more, also made him sweat. His already tan, already magnificent body would glisten in the light from his sweat that made you feel like licking something. The sweat also made his musk stronger. It wasn’t body odour, but it was his smell. He smelt like citrus and candy lemon drops and for some reason, a scent that reminded you of rain. The heat also made him jump into the pool more with you, and you were able to appreciate him even more.

The third was his hair. Summer usually left you with greasy hair because of the excess sweat, but for some reason, Dick Fucking Grayson’s wavy hair was more alive and bouncy in the summer. It made you want to run your fingers in and pull and tug.

His hair was currently wet, though. Slicked to the back and dripping droplets of water down his defined cheekbones, you subconsciously licked your lips at the obscene way his mouth was slightly parted, panting as he finished his lap.

He looked at you from the pool and grinned widely, waving at you. You had just walked out to the pool to tell him something.

“Hey, sis!” he greeted. You hated when he called you that.

“Hey,” you walked over to the edge of the pool where he was and squatted down to his eye level, “Wanna watch a movie tonight? They just added this new horror movie on Netflix.”

You saw him frown and bite his lower lip, running a hand through his wet hair. It was the look he made when he was thinking of something, or deciding.

“Unless you have Nightwing duties,” you hurriedly added, forgetting that the rest of your family had their nights usually occupied.

“No, no,” he shook his head and smiled at you, “I can take a night off.”

“Are you sure?” you asked again, “I don’t wanna hold you back from your responsibilities, or anything.”

“Not at all, sweetheart,” he assured you, “I like to watch movies with you. It’s a Friday night after all. I don’t want to leave you alone on your favorite night of the week.”

There it was. You loved it when he called you that.

“Okay!” you made a star jump from where you were, giggling in excitement, “Let’s watch it after dinner. We can make some popcorn, too.”

“Sounds great, sis!” he grinned at you. You forced your smile to stay where it was until he dived back underwater to continue his laps.

Your heart ached whenever he called you that.

You stared at him longingly as he did his butterfly, his back muscles flexing in the sun.

As much as you wanted him to think otherwise, he still saw you as his little sister, and nothing you could do can change that.

Not the short skirts and low tops, not by being touchy and clingy, and certainly not by wishing.

*** You heard Dick’s soft snores in your ear.

You couldn’t sleep, your heart was beating too fast.

After the movie, the two of you fell asleep on your bed, legs tangled, heads on the same pillow. You were facing him. You saw the outline of his face barely illuminated by the moonlight outside. You smiled.

His sleeping face was adorable.

He frowned slightly as he slept. It wasn’t because he was having a nightmare, it was just how he was. His lips were in a slight pout, his lower jutting out slightly.

You gulped.

You always imagined his lips on yours, and how soft they must feel.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

You always slept together like this, and some nights were harder than most. Most of the time, you could sleep soundly, even if he was spooning you from behind. You felt comfortable, and warm, and safe with him engulfing you into his heat.

Some of the nights, though, your brain went on hyperdrive, and you could feel your heartbeat in your ears. Your imagination was running wild.

You imagined those lips on your flushed skin, or around your nipples, suckling, or kissing your sweet spot between your legs.

Your pussy was aching.

You opened your eyes to look at him, making sure that he was completely asleep. You then let your hand travel down your body and slip underneath the band of your shorts and panties, to between your folds.

You were surprised at how wet you already were. You didn’t expect to be dry, but you didn’t expect to be dripping either.

Your eyes were set on his lips as you rubbed your clit, sparking pleasure throughout your body. You wanted to close the distance and press your lips against his so bad, but your willpower was strong enough to resist.

You stopped rubbing, but slowly inserted your middle finger inside your entrance.

“Mmm,” you moaned before you could stop yourself. You paused in panic, and looked at Dick’s eyes, to see if they were open.

Thankfully, he was still fast asleep, his frown still evidently present.

You continued to take the risk and pump in another finger.

“Fuck,” you hissed. You were being reckless at this point, really. You knew that you found it hard to keep quiet when pleasuring yourself, yet here you were masturbating right in front of your adoptive brother.

You thanked whatever higher being there was that Dick was a heavy sleeper and miraculously have not woken up yet despite your heavy breaths, occasional moans, and squirming.

You felt your juices leak even more at the prospect of getting caught by him.

It was stupid, beyond insane, but somehow you were even more aroused that you were fucking yourself in front of him while he slept.

Your thoughts were hazy, a fire was pooling slowly at your core, and you knew you were going to come soon.

You sped your fingers up, closing your eyes.

“Ah, Dick,” you groaned softly, chasing your high, “I need you.”

But suddenly, you felt a hand around your moving wrist that forced your eyes open and made you jump.

“What,” Dick was looking at you intensely, his eyes hooded from sleep, “Are you doing?”

“Dick,” you breathed in panic, “Not- nothing. I was scratching my leg.”

“It didn’t sound like you were scratching your leg,” he said in a low voice.

Fuck.

“I was,” you lied desperately, “Sorry for waking you up. Go back to sleep.”

You hurriedly turned your back towards him, your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest.

“Hmm,” you heard him sigh behind you. He snaked his arm around your waist and pulled you into his chest.

“How do you expect me to fall asleep now, sweetheart,” he muttered, hand suddenly gripping your hip so tight that it almost hurt.

You gasped when you felt something hard poking your ass. You heard him groan in frustration.

“This isn’t fair,” he choked, grinding his hard on into you once more, “This isn’t fucking fair.”

You’ve never heard him like this before. You’ve heard him mad, frustrated, tired. But not this. This was different.

“What isn’t?” you dared to ask.

You felt him still, a tired sigh, and then-

“Nothing,” he released you and then turned his back towards you too, “Go back to bed, sis.”

You remained quiet.

It took you almost the whole night to finally drift back to sleep.

***

You blinked yourself awake and immediately cringed at the light that poured through your pulled curtains. The warmth you felt behind you last night was absent, which meant Dick must have woken up earlier and intentionally pulled back the curtains for you. You groaned in your pillow at the reminded of what happened last night.

You got ready for the day and went down for breakfast, which you had in the kitchen on the island that Bruce made into a sort of breakfast bar.

When you were close to finishing, you heard the main door open and close, and in came Dick Grayson shirtless, sweaty, and panting right after his morning jog.

You made a point to ignore him and looked at your phone while gobbling up your scrambled eggs.

“Good morning, sis!” he chirped, pouring himself a glass of cold orange juice from the fridge, as if whatever happened last night didn’t happen.

“Mornin’,” you mumbled back with your mouth full.

“What’re you up to today?” he asked, pulling up a chair next to you. You tried to reel in your nerves. There was no reason to be jittery. If he was going to act like nothing happened, then you’ll gladly follow his lead.

“Nothing much,” you shrugged, “Work out a bit. Read a bit. Watch some TV?”

“Don’t you have friends to go out with or something?” he jested.

“Hey, I like staying home and lazing around,” you defended, finally turning away from your phone to look at him.

An action you regretted instantly.

He was looking at you with a slight smirk on his lips- which was glistening with orange juice. His hair was damp, some curls sticking to his sweaty forehead that made him look more boyish than usual.

The warm light that entered through the windows added on to his overall glow. He was like a bubbling ray of sunshine that made your breath hitch.

You tried hard to maintain eye contact, pretending to give him a slight glare by narrowing your eyes at him.

“Oh, really?” he teased, “And here I thought it’s because you don’t have any friends to go out with.”

“I do,” you huffed, “They invite me out sometimes. I choose to stay home.”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart. But it’s okay if you don’t. I’m here. I’ll be your friend,” he grinned, adding a flirty wink.

Wait, a flirty wink?

You rolled your eyes at him and went back to your phone.

No, Dick is naturally flirty, you convinced yourself. He doesn’t realise it, but he’s like that to everyone.

“Anyway, I think I’ll be down in the Cave for a bit,” he told you, “If you need anything, just text me.”

“And what would I need from you, Dick Grayson?” you raised an eyebrow condescendingly at him.

He didn’t answer right away. His gaze had changed to that of an intense stare, his jaw clenching and unclenching. And then-

“If you need someone to lift anything, or open jars, or do anything manly,” he suddenly changed into his usual cheerful self, even flexing and kissing his biceps for exaggeration, “These guns will help you out.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Whatever, Dick,” you shook your head at his idiocy and went back to your breakfast.

You did exactly what you said you would. You worked out, you read, and now you were lounging on the sofa in the living room watching TV. It was already in the late evening at the time Dick came and joined you.

He sat next to you, further away than usual.

After about ten minutes, he said, “Why are you so far away? Come here.”

“You’re the one who sat down far away,” you muttered to yourself, yet cuddled up next to him anyway.

You rested your head on his chest and leaned into him, as usual.

Another ten minutes passed by.

“We should talk about last night,” he suddenly brought up.

You tensed.

“What about last night?” you cautiously replied.

“You know,” he simply said.

You pulled away from him to look at him directly, showing him your fake confused face.

“I don’t?” you lied.

He sighed in frustration.

“You can’t lie to me, you know that right?” he told you, “I’m trained to detect lies, remember?”

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” you denied. Deny, deny, deny. You didn’t care if it was obvious or not. You needed to keep denying.

“Okay, how about I start over then,” he gave you the same intense stare as before, “We should talk about how I caught you touching yourself.”

Your brain short circuited. You hadn’t expected him to be so blunt and straightforward about it. But you needed to respond before he realises that he hit the mark.

You burst out into laughter.

“Is that what you thought I was doing?” you chortled, “Holy shit!”

He narrowed his eyes at you.

“What?” you continued to force yourself to laugh, “It’s funny! I told you that I was scratching.”

“Do you usually moan my name when you scratch yourself?” he snickered.

You almost dropped your smile the way your heart dropped to your stomach.

“Dick,” you smirked, “What dreams did you have last night? Are you sure you were even fully awake?”

“I’m pretty sure I can differentiate reality and my dreams, sweetheart,” he assured, “But you know what? Forget it. I shouldn’t have brought it up anyway.”

He grabbed your head with his hand and pushed your head to his chest like you were before.

“There’s nothing to even bring up Dick,” you bit your lip in worry now that he wasn’t looking at you, “You’re delusional.”

“Don’t push it,” he quipped.

You couldn’t help but chuckle.

***

The next time Dick ended up in your bed was 2 weeks later.

It was again, after a movie. The two of you fell asleep after under the covers, just like usual.

Dick had been acting normally, and in turn you did as well. It was as if that night had never happened. So, you could drift to sleep easily, despite him being there.

But something woke you up that night.

Your mind was still cloudy from sleep, and you weren’t sure whether you were dreaming or not. Now, you couldn’t tell if it was the slight movement of the bed that woke you up, or if it was the sounds you thought Dick was making.

Your back was facing him, so you couldn’t see him even if the moon shone a little bit brighter that night. But the bed was shaking very slightly, as if someone was absentmindedly jiggling their foot while lying down.

You frowned in the dark. Dick never really had the whole restless leg syndrome. You jiggled your knee while sitting down way more than he did.

But then you heard his soft sighs and moans. And then the haze in your mind cleared up completely, like a rush of cold water that woke you up, and you knew exactly what he was doing.

“Fuck,” you heard him whisper in a desperate tone you’ve never heard before.

Your heart was racing, thumping against your chest as if it was going to burst. You couldn’t believe what he was doing. He was doing the same thing you were two weeks ago.

You strained your ears even more.

You heard it now, the slick, wet sound of what you assumed was him jerking off his cock. You bit your lip. You wanted so much to see it.

Wait a second, a thought occurred to you. It wasn’t fair that he caught you and then acted all smug about it. No, you wanted to get him back as well.

You hurriedly thought hard about a smart thing to say that would leave him just as embarrassed as he made you.

“You know that I can hear you, Dick,” you finally voiced out, internally smacking your head for such a boring opening line.

You felt Dick still behind you.

“How long have you been listening?” he rasped.

“About a minute,” you gulped nervously.

A beat. And then-

“Shit,” he groaned, “That’s hot.”

He continued his movements.

Your eyes were opened wide, your mouth gaping at the shock of how easy he took it. That fucker even continued masturbating.

You’ve never witnessed this side of him before- ever. You didn’t even know he had this side. You thought he was just sunshines and rainbows, the warm older brother who incorrectly thought you were this innocent little girl he sworn to protect.

“Surprised?” he chuckled, “I wouldn’t be doing this if you hadn’t in the first place.”

You made a move to turn around to face him.

“What are you- no, no, don’t,” Dick panicked.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep my eyes up here,” you replied, now facing him.

He was lying on his back. Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness and you could faintly see the outline of his face, his mouth slightly parted, panting. You were lying on his left side.

You saw a movement on his right, and then you heard the wet sounds again. Another sigh from Dick.

“You’re shameless,” you told him, “I wanted to embarrass you the same way you embarrassed me.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he stated, “Masturbating is healthy.”

“Masturbating in front of your adoptive sibling is healthy?” you chuckled.

“Only if the feeling’s mutual,” he gave what you thought was a smirk. It was hard to read his face in the dark.

“Fuck,” he swore again, and then a little calmer added, “But you’re right. I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Then why aren’t you stopping?” you whispered.

“Because,” he paused, “Because it’s especially fucking hard to stop now that you’re watching.”

“Craving the centre of attention, just like always,” you teased.

You were surprisingly keeping it cool despite feeling wetness gush between your legs. If Dick can do it, why can’t you?

You brought a hand down under your waistband.

“No,” he suddenly protested, “You can’t do it with me.”

“Why not?” you moaned when you rubbed between your folds. You’ve never been that wet before.

“It’s wrong,” he choked.

“Oh, now it’s wrong?” you scoffed, “Fuck off, Dick. I’m going to touch myself with you.”

“Fuck,” he gasped, “Don’t say it like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because you sound sexy,” he breathed hard, hand pumping harder.

“Mmm,” you hummed, feeling yourself getting slicker and slicker as you circled your sensitive nub.

You watched him intensely with hooded eyes. He was frowning as if he was deep in thought, and was now biting his lower lip.

“Don’t look at me like that, sweetheart,” he groaned again, “You’re going to make me come.”

“Isn’t that- fuck- isn’t that the point?” you retorted, breath hitching.

He sped up even faster, and pumping even harder now that he didn’t need to hide it from you. You wanted so much to glance down, but you promised that you wouldn’t look. He was panting as if he was sprinting now.

You copied his actions, spreading your legs further apart to rub yourself. You felt the familiar heat pool at your lower stomach, the tingling in your toes.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he whined.

“Me too,” you echoed.

“Don’t come with me,” he urged, “Please, don’t come with me.”

“I’m going to come, Dick,” you huffed, “I’m going to come with you.”

“No,” he protested, “Shit! I’m- fuck. Fuck.”

You felt his pumps became more erratic and messy, and he was moaning and groaning- as were you. The heat from your centre burst into waves of fire, feeling you clench and unclench your pussy.

You watched as Dick came. His eyes were shut tight, his eyebrows furrowed, and his sound, god.

He didn’t come with a groan or a moan. He came in whimpers and whines. It sounded vulnerable, and desperate, and needy.

And then the two of you were panting in the darkness, wrapping your head around what had just happened.

You felt the bed shift, and saw Dick take off his shirt to wipe what you assumed was his cum from his stomach. You wanted to steal a look at his cock, but he had already pulled his sweatpants up. He threw the shirt to the floor and got beneath the blankets again with you.

Silence.

He sighed, and then pulled you closer to him. You rested your head on his chest and he slung an arm around your waist.

“I’m disgusting,” he whispered sadly.

“Then so am I,” you replied.

“It’s just- I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop myself,” he confessed, “When I heard you that night, moaning my name. Fuck. It wasn’t fair.”

Now you knew what tone of voice he used when he said that. It was him holding back, repressing himself.

“I don’t understand what you mean by it’s not fair,” you stated.

“It’s not fair that you can just- just go around looking like you do,” he elaborated, “Walking around with almost nothing on, squatting in front of me in your skirt while I’m in the pool, fucking masturbate next to me while I slept. It’s not fair that you can affect me so much, and I can’t do anything about it.”

You were so shocked by his confession that you couldn’t even think of retorting him by saying that he did the same.

“And then I’m in the same bed as you again,” he continued, “And you’re just there in your shorts and your tank top, and all I can think about is how you sound when you moaned my name. How long have you been touching yourself to me?”

“Uhm,” you hesitated, blushing slightly to yourself at the embarrassment, “Maybe one or two years.”

“Fuck,” he swore, “And I thought you were so fucking innocent. I felt bad for having dirty thoughts of you.

“Far from it,” you giggled.

He sighed again.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with this, Dick,” you tried to assure him, “We’ve only met 4 years ago. There’s nothing relating us to each other except documents. You don’t even have the Wayne name.”

“Still,” he weakly argued back, “I’m still as much your brother as Jason is mine.”

“But you don’t see me as a sister,” you debated.

“No, I don’t. Just- just go to bed okay? I love you,” he kissed you on your forehead.

“Love you too, Dick.”

And so, it started. Whenever Dick slept in your room, the both of you would sometimes masturbate together, never looking anywhere but each other’s faces. But sometimes you would sleep throughout the whole night, and sometimes you would end up touching yourself alone and once you were done, you would feel Dick press up his hard on against your ass but do nothing about it until the both of you fell asleep again.

And during the day, you would act like how you always acted. Like there was nothing going on at night between the sheets. Dick would be his usual cheerful, brotherly self. You didn’t have any other talks like you did again. It was mainly silence or single word answers, swears, and moans and his needy whines.

The longest sentence exchanged between the both of you at night would probably be Dick’s “You done? Go back to sleep.” He would, of course, cuddle up against you and maybe grind himself on you a few times.

But then that night happened.

The two of you had been doing this for 6 months already.

One night, you were in bed, not sleeping soundly but not fully awake either. You faintly heard the door opened and close. You opened your eyes and voiced out in the darkness.

“Dick?” you mumbled.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he replied softly, “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

You heard his footsteps come closer to your bed. You blinked yourself awake.

“No, I wasn’t really sleeping,” you explained. He was standing by the side of your bed dressed in a plain white shirt and boxers. “What’s wrong?”

“I- I need you,” he whispered, “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

“Of course,” you immediately sat up and pulled the covers, “Get in here.”

He snuggled up next to you, now lying down on his side facing you.

“What time is it?” you asked.

“Almost four in the morning.”

“You just got back from patrol?” you enquired.

“Yeah,” he simply said.

Your eyes darted across his face to see him in the dark. You noticed he had a butterfly BandAid across a cut on his right cheekbone. Your hands immediately went to caress it.

“Oh my god,” you whispered excitedly, “Nightwing got injured?”

“I’m not invincible you know,” he scoffed.

“Could have fooled me,” you smiled softly at him.

He didn’t reply, but you could feel his intense stare. You continued caressing his cheek.

“So who did it? Pyg? Zsaz?” you paused before you jokingly added, “Condiment King?”

Dick let out a chuckle at that.

“No,” he replied, his smile faltering, “It was Deathstroke.”

No wonder he had his panties in a bunch.

“Oh,” you simply responded, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” he sighed, wrapping you with his arms and pulling you into his heat by your waist, “I just need you.”

You were so close to him, you could feel his warm breath on your face, his chest rise and fall against yours. Your lips were inches away from each other, and you suddenly felt some sort of pull.

You knew the term electricity sparking between two people was cheesy and overused, but it really was how you felt then. It was like some sort of static that pulled you in closer and closer to him, all the while your heartbeat felt like like it was drumming in your ears.

You suddenly felt hot, too hot. You had your air conditioner switched on and yet you felt like you were sweating. You were suddenly aware of his arms around you. He’s cuddled you like that many times before, but it seemed different tonight.

You noticed his toned biceps flexing around you, how his large warm hand settled at your lower back, burning the small patch of skin that was exposed from your shirt hiking up. You noticed one of his thighs were in between yours, and that your leg had subconsciously found its way up to his hips, almost straddling him sideways.

And you noticed how your core was pressed against his thigh, the pressure making you feel tingly. As if he read your mind, he pressed his thigh between yours harder.

“Dick,” you moaned.

“I need you,” he breathed, and repeated the action again.

You were both staring at each other’s lips. You saw his tongue quickly dart out to wet his lower lip. You both knew what was going to happen next, but it seemed like forever before he actually kissed you.

It didn’t really start out as a kiss at first. He simply pressed his lips against yours gently, like he was testing to see if it was okay. When you reciprocated by adding pressure to the kiss, then he started to ease into it, taking your lower lip into his mouth, adding small licks here and there.

But when you opened your mouth to give him access, it was like he snapped. He thrusted his tongue inside your mouth to taste you, and suddenly flipped you over, climbing on top of you.

He grabbed your hands and pinned them above your head, all the while tongue fucking your mouth. You started mewling at the growing intensity of the kiss, and how he completely dominated it.

He broke off the kiss to rasp “I need you” once more, and then started going lower to suck and lick on the skin above your pulse. You felt him let go of your hands only for him to start feeling you up from beneath your shirt, bunching it up in the process. You let out a groan when he started massaging your breasts, playing with your nipples.

In one swift motion, he pulled your top over your head and tossed it onto the floor. He then immediately went to your nipple and took it into his mouth, circling it with his tongue, all the while pulling and pinching the other with his finger.

He traveled lower again, and forced your thighs apart with his hands, immediately burying his face in between your thighs. He started mouthing you over your sleeping shorts, making it grow damper with both your slick and his saliva.

“Dick,” you begged.

He took them off smoothly.

“Fuck,” he gasped, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You felt your face heat up when he complimented you. You felt a bit vulnerable, your legs spread and fully exposed to him. But all the nervousness disappeared when he licked a strip from your hole to your clit, making you shudder in the intense, unfamiliar pleasure.

“I’ve always wanted to taste you,” he teased, his hot breaths sending bolts of electricity over your pussy. He dove in again.

He groaned around your sensitive bud, his vibrations almost completely unraveling you. Suddenly you felt him insert a finger into you while lapping at your clit.

“Oh, God,” you whined, “Fuck, Dick, please.”

He curled his finger upwards to massage the sweet spot inside you, causing you to thrash about, your hands flying from above your head to his soft curls. You tugged on his hair as he continued to drink you up, making him moan as well.

He added a second finger.

You felt the familiar heat build and build as he worked your pussy with his mouth and hands.

He added a third.

“Dick,” you choked, “I’m gonna-”

And then everything you felt was gone. Dick was now kneeling on the bed in between your legs, suddenly shirtless and grinning, his mouth glistening with your juices.

“No,” you whimpered, “More.”

You started bucking your hips in vain to relieve some of the tension that he built.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” his voice was suddenly at your ear, “I need you. I need to feel you. Can I?”

“Please,” you whined, canting your hips to meet his. You felt his hard on poking at you through his boxers, begging for attention.

“You want my cock, baby?” he purred, “You want me to fill you up?”

“Please,” you repeated, your mind was hazy, and it was like the only word you knew how to say.

“Okay, baby, I’ll give you my cock,” his breath tickled your ear.

You felt the bed shift, and you didn’t even realise that your eyes were closed. You opened them and saw Dick position himself between your spread legs, his shorts gone. Suddenly, you felt nervous again.

“Uhm, Dick?” you voiced out.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he replied, one hand wrapped around his leaking shaft, the tip wet and reflecting what little light there was.

“Is… that normal?” you pointed to his cock.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“Is it normal for a penis to be that big?”

He grinned at you and chuckled.

“Don’t worry, babe,” he winked, “I know it’s your first time, so I’ll take it slow, okay?”

“O-okay,” you stuttered.

He aligned his cock at your hole, pushed in slightly, but then took it away to rub it between your wet folds.

Your breath hitched.

He repeated what he did, pushed in a bit more, only to take it out again.

“Jesus, Dick,” you gasped, “I know you said to take it slow, but-”

You let out a long moan when he finally pushed it in beyond the bell of his head, causing you to wince slightly at the stretch.

“Shit, you’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, still pushing it in dangerously slow.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you panted, “Oh fuck, you’re huge. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He stilled as soon as he bottomed out in you, a thumb rubbing your clit to distract you from the almost pleasurable but still painful stretch.

But god, the sensations you felt.

You felt so full, and so good, and like your whole body was on fire. The way he filled you up meant that he was touching every single spot inside you that gave you pleasure.

You weren’t the only one who was whimpering.

You saw Dick with his eyes shut, his eyebrows furrowed, his lower lip bit. He was breathing hard.

“Fuck,” he choked, “Fuck. You feel- fuck.”

“You can move, please,” you instructed.

“You sure?” he whispered.

“Yes, Dick, please.”

He pulled out slowly, but not completely, and he pushed back in.

“Your walls are clinging onto my cock, fuck,” he described.

Indeed, you felt it too. It was like your body didn’t ever want his cock to leave you.

He leaned over you and propped his elbows at either side of your face, his hips still thrusting in and out. You could see the droplets of sweat on his forehead, and smell his familiar citrusy scent along with his salty musk.

You adjusted to his size quickly enough, because soon, you needed more.

“Faster, please,” you told him.

His pace quickened ever so slightly.

It was better, but still not enough. You wanted to feel him, every inch of him. You were greedy for his cock, and greedy for your high.

“Faster,” you pleaded.

He obeyed, but it still wasn’t enough. You knew he was still holding back.

“God dammit, Dick Grayson,” you angrily cried out, “I’m not going to fucking break, so go the fuck faster.”

“Fine,” he panted above you, “You want fast? I’ll give you fast.”

He snapped his hips, and you got the breath knocked out of you.

He started pummeling into you, drilling his cock violently into your pussy.

You bit your lip so you wouldn’t scream your lungs out at the intense pleasure you felt as he pounded you.

“This fast enough for you, sweetheart?” he breathed.

You couldn’t form a snarky reply, hell, you couldn’t form any words at all. The only word you knew was his name and ���Please’, which you chanted like a mantra, all the while not even knowing what you were pleading for.

The sound of the room was filled with your heavy breaths and vulgar sounds, the slapping of his cock into you and the wet slick that you knew came from your dripping slit.

“Fuck, I need you,” he suddenly crashed his lips into you, violating your mouth with his tongue, his thrusts never faltering.

You felt the previous orgasm build again, but this time it was different from any other you’ve felt. You felt like your vision was getting narrower, like you were seeing white light, slowly building and building its intensity.

“Dick,” you choked.

“Me too, baby, me too,” he muttered, his rhythm now getting sloppy, his moans and groans now replaced with new sounds, the sounds you knew he made when he came.

And then it finally came, you felt yourself flutter around his length, a hand covering your mouth which meant that you must have been making a lot of noise that you didn’t notice.

And then you didn’t hear nor see anything but white static, and an electrical fire that burst throughout your whole body. When you were slowly coming down, you heard him.

His whines and whimpers.

You felt him pull out from your cunt, the sudden emptiness slightly surprising you, and he came all over your stomach in streaks of white.

Your vision was still cloudy, but you could see clearly that he was still hovering above your body, propped up with one arm next to your head, sweating with his eyes closed and breathing hard.

With a groan, he sat up and took his shirt he discarded from before to wipe you clean.

He collapsed next to you and pulled you close, giving you a kiss on the nose.

“That was- wow,” he chuckled.

“Agreed,” you giggled, looking at him endearingly. He looked completely wiped out.

“I love you,” he said, “But no one can know about us, okay? At least, for now.”

“Okay,” you nodded, “But, Dick?”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t want us to pretend like this never happened in the morning,” you whispered, “I don’t want us to act like normal even when we’re alone.”

“Me neither,” he sighed, caressing your cheek, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that before. I just wanted to live in denial. I didn’t want to face my issues.”

“I know,” you smiled softly, “It’s okay. I know it’ll take time for you to get over your guilt or whatever.”

“Or whatever?” he scoffed, “It’s complicated, you know, seeing that I’m supposed to be the responsible one.”

“Whatever,” you lightly teased, “As long as you stop calling me ‘sis’, I’ll be good.”

“Yeah, I only called you that to try to tell myself what you’re supposed to be for me,” he confessed, “But now that’s obviously out the window, I’ll stop.”

“Thanks, Dick.”

“No problem, bro.”

The last sound you heard him make before you drifted to sleep was a yelp that you elicited from him by smacking him on his head.

[spidercakes]

Playmate

I was gunna do this as a oneshot but I decided to go multipart instead (3 or 4 parts). So, this is an ABO AU in which Peter and Tony are both omegas and Tony is teaching Peter the art of seduction, essentially. Basically the is the result of me discovering playmating (omegas teaching other omegas how to please their partners by using each other) and going huh, now there’s an idea.

Warnings: ABO, age difference (Peter is 17, Tony is in his late twenties).

*

Peter sits in front of the mirror nervously moving his hair around and he doesn’t even know why. Its not like this matters, this is a class that he needs to take before he’s eligible for alphas and he’s there to learn, not impress. But he still has an itching feeling to look good, pretty even if its not for an alpha. He thinks the pink around the mirror is supposed to be disarming but its so not and he takes a deep breath because if he doesn’t leave now he’ll be late and he doesn’t think that’s a good start so he picks himself up and turns around before he can fuss more about his hair.

He makes his way down the hallway and pauses at the door at the end of it. All he has to do is walk in but he’s so nervous, he’s never done any of this before and he doesn’t like doing things wrong. He bites his lip, half tempted to run but the door opens and Peter lets out a surprised squeak. Its not just that the door opened its also that the guy behind it is really, really attractive. He knows that omegas aren’t supposed to find each other attractive, they don’t really go together biologically, but he’s never really had a problem finding anyone attractive.

The guy behind the door, his mentor he supposes, smiles at him. “Debating on running away?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

“Or throwing up,” Peter says, then winces. Wow, his first words in the arts of seduction were ‘or throwing up.’ He’s sure an alpha will find that super sexy.

“Hey, relax, kid. Come in, and don’t be nervous. And yeah I know, you’ve never done any of this before, you don’t want to mess up, what if you never get good at any of this- I’ve heard it all and seen it all. You’ll do fine,” he says. “I’m Tony, by the way. You must be Peter.”

He nods, stepping into the room and looking around. Its nicer than he thought it’d be, less clinical. He likes the lights behind the curtains backing the bed, it makes the room look softer somehow. “I don’t know about that,” Peter says, arms around his middle.

Tony smiles softly, “the good news is that no one really does well in any kind of sexual relationship at first no matter how experienced they are. You need time to figure your partner out, everyone’s tastes are different.”

“Then like... what’s the point of this class?” he asks, squinting.

Tony laughs, “there are things that are relatively true for most people, that’s what I’m supposed to teach. But I’ll teach you other things too, like how to tell when your partner likes something they maybe didn’t mention, how to approach the subject delicately. Alphas are precious little flowers, you don’t want them to feel threatened if you’ve noticed they enjoy something that maybe they think makes them less of an alpha. Seriously, they do not react well to that and you don’t want to deal with a month and a half of whining until they’ve settled down again,” he says.

“That seems... complicated,” Peter says.

“Nah, its easy once your figure it out and lucky you you have someone to teach you. Now, what experience do you have?” Tony asks as he shuts the door and walks over to the bed, perching on it as he tucks his legs under himself.

Peter shrugs, “um, I’ve kissed a couple people,” he says, trying his best to control the blush on his cheeks but he doesn’t think he does well.

“Don’t bother to hide it, alphas go nuts for a good blush. Let it work for you,” Tony tells him, smiling a little when he looks surprised. “This is my job, Peter, I know how to read people really well. So relax, you’re gunna do fine.”

He does let himself relax a little, looking around again. This is... intimidating still but it helps, Tony being so open. “So what are we learning today?” he asks, figuring maybe he should get to like... the curriculum or whatever it is he’s supposed to call this.

“Scenting,” Tony tells him and Peter frowns. “That’s it for today. Probably for the whole week, depending on how you feel,” he adds.

“How can that take up a whole week?” he asks. Seems easy, he’s seen movies he knows how it works. And, not that he’d ever admit this to anyone except maybe Ned and probably not even then, but he’s seen porn too.

Tony looks amused, “Peter, there’s more to scenting than shoving your face in an alpha’s neck. Not that they mind that either, and that’s probably what you’re going to get, but you need to be better than that. So yes, you get a week of scenting. Plus its an easy icebreaker to the rest of the uh... curriculum.”

*

He’s used to nervous young omegas and they’re preferable to his other option, hence being here, but poor Peter is more of a nervous wreck than the usual. He can hazard a few guesses as to why but that’s less important than getting him past that. His life is a whole lot easier if Peter isn’t nervous, and he’ll feel more comfortable learning what Tony is trying to teach if he’s comfortable.

“So what is it that kids are watching these days?” he asks, sitting back against the pillows on the bed.

Peter is sitting across from him, legs tucked under himself and that’s an improvement but he needs Peter more relaxed than that. “You’re not even that much older than me,” Peter says like ten years isn’t basically fifty given their ages.

“Come on, give me something here. I know you guys sneak out to see movies you’re not supposed to, we all do it. Well, I can come and go as I please now but I did, back when I was in school,” he says.

Its a weird thing to break the ice but Peter’s eyes light up and he leans forward with interest, “you guys did that too?” he asks, surprised.

He snorts, “all the time. A friend of mine and I decided to go to a midnight screening of The Exorcist and I had nightmares for weeks,” he says, shaking his head.

“I had nightmares about Alien!” Peter says excitedly. “I mean, it was a good movie but I was not prepared.”

Tony knows the feeling though he never grew out of his dislike for horror. He supposes Peter at least got fond of sci fi. “Yeah, there’s always that one movie that leaves someone scarred for life. I think technically it was supposed to be Paranormal Activity for my age group but being here hinders things so nope, the damn Exorcist.”

“I think our is It. Saw the first half of the first part and decided I didn’t like clowns,” Peter says.

Tony snickers and smacks his knee, “that’s hilarious. My ex loved Stephen King, tried pretty hard to convince me to go watch It with him too but sadly for him I’m stubborn and absolutely refused.”

Peter frowns a little, probably wondering if he accidentally walked into a landmine and he hasn’t. His relationship history is pretty much a pile of garbage but he’s long ago accepted that. “Oh, um...” Peter winces, looking away and confirming Tony’s theory.

“Relax, its a non issue. Bruce was great but things weren’t really meant to be. And he’s not dead, stop looking at me like that, poor bastard just had one hell of a mental breakdown.” Peter gives him a sympathetic look and yeah, Tony figures he’s earned that.

“So I guess that’s how you ended up here?”

He nods, “something like that. Though I’ve been married three times, two out of three of them fucking sucked. Ty was, to put it politely, an abusive piece of shit and Steve was fine at first but we had... different ideas of who the other was and that led to a messy divorce. Then Bruce.” That last one would have worked out too, he’d never been intimidated by Tony’s intelligence and Bruce wasn’t exactly lacking in intelligence himself. He’d been soft and caring, comfortable. It wasn’t the sparks and passion he’d wanted in his youth but he quickly learned that was a stupid thing to want in a long term relationship.

“Wow that’s...”

“A lot?” Tony asks, eyebrow raised. Peter nods and Tony shrugs, “its a weird constant in my life, Bruce was a nice reprieve from that. Good news is that he’s not cracked up anymore so good for him.”

“Why not go back to him? You seem like you care about him still,” Peter says.

He shakes his head, “needs to be mentally competent to have an omega and he’s cleared to take care of himself, not me.” Like alphas or betas take care of omegas anyway and Peter seems to notice the weird discrepancy too because he looks confused.

“Literally all we do here is to take care of alphas, why would he need to be competent enough to take care of you when you’re the one taking care of him?”

Yeah, would be a good question if Bruce wasn’t a beta. “That’s a fun little beta only rule, alphas are assumed mentally competent at all times regardless of whether or not they are. Society’s way of doing everything it can to force omegas and alphas together, I guess.”

Peter looks surprised by that too, Bruce being a beta. “What’s that like? I mean, can’t be the same as it was with an alpha,” he says.

Most his age think so and they don’t have enough contact with people of other orientations to know better. Tony shakes his head though, “they aren’t the same, no, but I’d prefer betas over alphas. They listen better, and they’re less temperamental. Surprisingly omegas are the best- we know how to deal with emotions and know how to read body language, makes things a fuck of a lot easier when you’re dealing with someone who feels comfortable with emotions that aren’t angry or sexually aggressive like alphas. I will give alphas credit where its due though, knots are pretty great. You can get a dildo for that though and its a hell of a lot less hassle.”

He’d wonder if he was too blunt, maybe, if Peter didn’t look so interested. “Did you do that with Bruce? Not to be like prying or-”

He cuts Peter off because that’s good, he needs to be comfortable with sexual topics here all things considered. “No, its fine. Its a good way to learn, asking me questions. I didn’t, though. Knots are great, but if they’re the only thing that’s good about an interaction then they’re really not worth the time- Ty. Not to call anyone out specifically,” he says.

It works because Peter laughs. “But like... nothing with Bruce?” he asks and they both know what he means.

He shakes his head, “nope. Bruce was an attentive lover, he paid attention to what I liked, asked when he was unsure. That’s really all you need.”

“Okay but like, what about scenting? That can’t be the same,” Peter says. “Or like, its gotta be better with alphas.”

“Nope, alpha’s best kept secret is that its pretty much the same with everyone. Well, kind of. If alphas know how to do it right its great, but if they don’t eh. Betas are open to learning without you having to couch it in the nicest terms you can possibly come up with and then making it seem like you’re not directing them on how to scent better- we’ll get to it. And omegas learn how to do it right and to pay attention to what their partners like so they kind of end up the best at it in the end, but that’s because they get taught. Betas would be the beset otherwise.” 

Bruce was always hesitant, unsure if he could measure up to Tony’s past lovers because of the beta thing but it really wasn’t an issue. He wasn’t much good at scenting at first, betas apparently don’t much do it with each other for whatever reason, but Tony directed him on how to do it better and he ended up the best at it out of everyone he’s been with. Its not a long list really, but it is longer than most omegas. And it had been somewhat intimidating to Bruce though he was always thoughtful about it, never made it seem like Tony’s fault he felt that way and that really was the best thing about Bruce.

Peter looks skeptical but they all do at first. “No way, that’s so not what we get taught!” he says, almost offended about it.

“Want a demonstration?” he asks, using the natural opening to get to their lesson of the week.

Peter isn’t stupid, he knows he’s been led here specifically though he did most of the leading himself. “Okay,” he says, nose in the air a little.

He nods, shifting away from the pillows he was leaning against, “come over here and sit,” Tony tells him. Peter considers it for a half a second before he crawls over and perches in Tony’s previous spot. “Good news, technically speaking that’s a form of scenting, sitting in areas an alpha does often. Rubs your scent off in their spaces and they actually are superior in that area, smell. Nosey little bastards can smell just about everything and they like that kind of thing, you smelling like them. Wear their sweaters or clothing too, I used to do it when I slept because that was the easiest. Some people don’t get a job like I did though so they find it easier to throw something on during the day while they do whatever around the house.”

Peter wrinkles his nose, “that so doesn’t count as scenting!” he says, near scandalized.

Tony laughs, “trust me, to an alpha it is. You won’t notice anything, Bruce never seemed to notice and mostly got annoyed that I stole all his sleep pants, but an alpha will notice and they will react positively to it. Sometimes its a good way to stave off a fight too, smelling more like them than not. Its a good tip, keep it in mind,” Tony tells him.

He at least gets a nod out of Peter while he curls his legs under himself. “Okay, smell like an alpha and they like it, got it,” he says. “Now lets get to the real stuff because I’m pretty sure you’re lying but I can’t figure out why.”

This is his favorite part of these things, debunking pretty much everything they’ve all been taught thus far. He thinks they’re better for it, not thinking they need to rely on alphas for any kind of sexual pleasure or really anything at all. “Okay, lie back,” he tells Peter, “legs out and spread a little, I’m going to sit between them, okay?”

Peter nods and stretches himself out, legs spread a little. “Good. Now you’re not going to want to go straight in, tease them a little alright. Like this,” Tony tells him, crawling in close and settling a hand on their thigh, “doesn’t work for everyone, but its usually a good place to start. Its intimate and sexy, see,” he says, sliding a hand up Peter’s thigh. He doesn’t want to react, Tony can see it, but he does. Being so young helps, especially when he’s probably never been touched like this before. Some will experiment with others, most don’t. They get taught not to out of some stupid assumption of purity or whatever. Not that it usually matters by the time they make it here- they’re supposed to learn how to seduce alphas and its hard to know how to fuck someone without you know, actually fucking someone.

“Let yourself feel it, Peter. You need to know how this feels so you can gauge how your partner is reacting, okay?” He nods and Tony smiles, “good. Now scenting isn’t too difficult, but there’s an art of seduction to it that makes it better. Like this,” Tony tells him as he leans in close, hand on Peter’s hip. HIs eyes are wide as Tony settles his other hand beside Peter. “Closeness is beneficial to you, the intimacy of it. Let yourself lean in close, maybe brush your nose against theirs like this,” Tony tells him as he presses in closer and brushes his nose along Peter’s. “its soft, sweet. Keeps up with the typical image of omegas, plus it can be cute and playful. Depends on the mood of the situation.”

Peter smiles and reaches out, settling a hand on Tony’s hip for a moment before he seems to think better of it and pulls back. Tony grabs his wrist, “no, that’s good. Let yourself explore, figure out how to touch someone. I’ll guide you later, but for now just let yourself go. We’ll fine tune things when we get there.” Peter nods, hesitantly settling his hand back on Tony’s hip and he bites his lip. “Keep that, that’s cute. Alphas love a shy omega, not sure what about it gets them going but they pretty much all love it.” He hasn’t met one yet that doesn’t though he’s sure they exist, however rare they may be.

“Okay,” Peter says, voice a little shaky.

“Good. Now do this,” Tony murmurs as he leans into Peter’s space, face right by his jaw. “Don’t go for it right away, tease them a little. Let your breath ghost over their jaw, make them want it, okay?” Peter nods, fingers curling into his shirt and Tony smiles. Nice to know he has an effect. “You feel it?” he asks even though they both know the answer. Peter lets out a soft ‘mhm.’ “Good, because this is what you want to make them feel, okay? Then you go in nice and soft, like this,” he murmurs, nosing lightly at Peter’s neck. He lets out a small, strangled noise, second hand moving to Tony’s hip.

“Keep it soft for a moment, shy. They like that, like your hesitant at first. Let yourself explore a little. You’ll feel if they get listless, and sometimes they straight up tell you they want more. Listen to their body language, like you right now with your hands on my hips, fingers flexing. You want more,” Tony says.

“Yeah, this is nice,” Peter tells him and Tony smiles.

“Yeah it is,” he murmurs. “Now, when they want more, or when you think you’ve teased them enough- some of them prefer more of it than others, scent them proper. Like this,” he tells Peter, pressing his face into his neck and mouthing at it softly, nosing at it as Peter naturally tilts his head back and to the side. “Good presentation,” Tony murmurs, “they like that too.” Peter isn’t paying attention by now, his hands are tight on his shirt and his legs have drawn up close to Tony’s hips. He lets out a small mewl as Tony kisses his way down Peter’s neck, letting him feel it.

“How’s that?” he murmurs into Peter’s ear as he pulls away.

“Oh,” Peter murmurs. “I... does it feel like that for you?” he asks. Tony laughs a little but nods.

“You wanna try?” he asks. Peter bites his lip and looks away and Tony settles a hand on one of Peter’s at his hip. “You won’t be as good as me on your first try, I’ve had a lot of practice because I’ve been through this training, and I’ve been married several times, plus I started teaching this stuff. Comparing yourself to me is unfair. Its my job to make sure you end up as good as me so don’t worry about it if you’re not perfect right away. We can work on that. Come here,” he says, shifting out of Peter’s space and sitting beside him. “Try it.”

Peter looks at him nervously, giving him a quick once over. “Um. Okay,” he says. Terrible approach but he’s not going to tell Peter that at the moment, they can work on that later. For now he should get the basics in so Tony opens his arms for Peter to crawl in. He does, straddling his lap, hands on his chest. “That’s cute, sitting like that. Look less like you have no idea what you’re doing when you do it though, more shy, coy maybe. There you go, that looks nicer. Now lean into me, like that yeah,” he says as Peter leans forward tentatively, forehead almost touching his. “That’s good, yeah. forehead touches are cute assuming no one is sweaty.”

He gets a soft giggle out of Peter. “Okay,” he murmurs softly and he leans in, planting a small kiss on Tony’s mouth.

Tony wraps his arms around Peter, one hand settling on his waist and he runs the other up through his hair, guiding his head a little. “Easy way to teach alphas where to go without bruising their egos. They like it when you take a little control, but not too much. Make it seem like you’re enjoying yourself while you direct them, then they don’t suspect anything,” Tony says as he guides Peter’s head the right way. He noses at Tony’s jaw and its pleasant, misguided a little but still good. “That’s it, have a little more confidence. Nice and slow,” Tony murmurs as Peter’s breath softly hits his neck.

“Is this okay?” he asks.

“Its a good start,” Tony murmurs, you’ve got a lot of natural talent we can work into something better. Arch your back a little, yeah, like that. Alphas like that too, but when you’re doing this its for them only. Its nice to scent someone, but its being scented that feels nice. But let them think you get something out of it too,” Tony murmurs. “Now go for it for me, show me how you scent,” he tells Peter, petting his hand through Peter’s hair.

He lets out a soft noise of pleasure as he leans in, nosing gently at Tony’s neck and its because he’s nervous, unsure, but it works. Tony feels the small jolts of pleasure and he makes a small noise, tilting his head a bit. Part of it is for show, part of it is real but a slightly exaggerated response is a better teaching tool. Peter takes his cue and kisses him softly, teeth grazing at his neck and Tony’s fist closes tight in his hair as his back arches involuntarily. “Oh, um I was going toh-” he says, words cutting off as Peter’s teeth graze his neck again.

“Oh wow, I can um... I can smell that you liked that,” he says as Tony pants underneath him.

“Yeah, I um... most omegas do, actually. I was going to get to that tomorrow but you seemed to have found a way to jump ahead. Some areas are more sensitive than others and you happened to hit my sensitive spot. Also good use of your nose, that’ll be a helpful guide. Alphas smell different but you’ll know what arousal smells li-ah, Peter!” he says, attempting an admonishing tone but he does’t quite make it past his reaction to Peter’s teeth at his neck again.

“You talk too much,” Peter says, giggling as he leans back up. “And I like the way you react.”

He snorts, “yeah, you and most everyone else I’ve been with. So you get it now, scenting? How it feels to be on the other end of it, how to do it? Well, the basics on how to do it. We’ll fine tune for the rest of the week until you’re an expert,” he says.

Peter sits back in his lap and nods, “yeah, I get it. Honestly, I thought you were lying about it feeling nice when omegas do it too, but I guess its good that it feels nice regardless. How the hell would I figure this out if it didn’t?”

Yeah, there’s a question but Tony leaves it alone at the moment. “Exactly. Now, I’m sure you have a text book or two that mentions scenting, read about it. Come to me with any questions you have, okay? I’ll have answers for most of them and I can find out what I don’t know.” Peter nods, looking more confident than he did ten minutes ago so that’s good, he can work with that.

[tonystarkbingo]

Tony Stark Bingo Prompt Meme

So, we did another Prompt Meme game, and came up with these summaries based on a three-tag prompt. This is an open prompt, if any of these summaries look like fun to you, please feel free to write them!! Tag us or the writer of the prompt when you do so we can all see how cool you are and what you’ve given us for the promot

@summerpipedream - Winteriron - All Tony wanted to do after finishing up at MIT was to pack up his desk at Stark Industries and quietly fade into obscurity. Sure money was tight, but he never expected Jan to actually sign him up for one of those social media reality shows. Now, he was stuck in a house, with no phone, no internet, or access to the outside world, trying to avoid the sexy Bucky Barnes, who's mission in life seemed to be to never wear a shirt around him.

@darthbloodorange - The world is ending, an alien race has all but taken over the world, it is an apocalypse of devastating proportions, most of the world is dead. The Avengers, those who are left, have retreated to a bunker built a fourth of the way down into the Earth’s core. Tony and Steve have been growing closer, when they are not working together to find a way to fight back against the aliens, they are fuck buddies. Tony’s a genius, he knows the odd of surviving this are not in their favour. Odds were that they were going to die… and well, Tony doesn’t want to die without letting Steve know how he feels. Before the battle Tony corners Steve in the armoury and confesses that he loves him. Steve is aromatic, has been since project rebirth.  They are both so very sorry. 

@newnewyorker93 - After a series of strange killings where the victims are found set up kneeling like they're praying, Tony Stark (a private detective) is on the case. An initial (false) suspect is the local priest, Matt Murdoch, who ends up being a helpful ally in solving the case (and possibly more)

@27dragons - Winteriron: You'd think that Tony Stark would have learned to ski when he was growing up. You'd think wrong; Howard never saw the point in it. So here he is, almost done with his PhD, and his friends have decided on a spring break trip to go skiing. He doesn't want to admit to them that he doesn't know how, so their first night at the lodge, he offers one of the ski instructors a large sum of money to sneak him up onto the slopes for a few lessons that night. Against his better judgment -- but desperately needing the cash -- Ski instructor Bucky Barnes takes Tony up on the slopes. Unfortunately, just as Tony's starting to get the hang of things, it starts snowing. Hard. Even more unfortunately, the newfallen snow disguises a patch of ice and Tony tumbles out of control. By the time Bucky catches up to him and verifies that he's not badly hurt, the snow is coming down too hard to see the lodge -- so what else are they to do but seek shelter in a caretaker's cabin conveniently (TM) nearby and wait for morning...?

@gavilansblog - Tony is kidnapped as part of an Evil Plot (TM). He's handling things just fine, tyvm, until his would-be rescuer (who he's been pining for, obviously), gets dragged in and handcuffed back to back with him. Seriously, dude? If you insist on breaking the kidnapping procedure at least actually rescue me! The taxes come in when the Evil Plot Master does his monologue and reveals that the kidnapping is part of a Villain Logic scheme to get Stark Industries to throw money behind the campaign to get a new law requiring actually taxing billionaires to fail. Evil Plot Master is, naturally, a billionaire. Tony would facepalm if he weren't handcuffed to his idiot rescuer, seriously. And then the kidnapping protocol kicks in and Jarvis shuts the whole facility down only instead of being handcuffed by himself Tony is now handcuffed to his rescuer so they have to do the whole escaping part of the plan while handcuffed together, resulting is the standard Tension (TM) moments and possibly an almost-kiss.

Fey Relay - Bruce, Tony, and Peter, resident science geeks, get de-aged and really want to play in the lab. You know, the one that has lots of things that can kill them in it? But they're still sort of mentally in there, just cranky and smol. So they get assigned their own Non-Science Adults who they hand-hold and point to do their sciency bidding. Thor, Steve, and Natasha oblige them and have great fun!

@rise-up-ting-ting-like-glitter Dragons were real. Okay they were actually just souped-up dinosaurs, but that didn’t mean Tony wasn’t being hunted—with intent—by lizards. He hadn’t wanted to come to this stupid Island in the first place. SI funding had explicitly been removed from the crackpot idea to return dinosaurs to the food chain. He could have told everyone that this was going to happen. Instead he was climbing through a jungle with a one-armed man who refused to give his name and if they didn’t get to the raptor enclave, retrieve the anti-venom, and return in time, people Tony loved were going to die.

His guide had better live up to his scruffy wild-man appearance or Tony was going to lose everything.

@somesortofitalianroast - Nurse Bucky Barnes wasn’t sure what exactly was going on. The vigilante known as Nomad had just crashed through the (luckily) open fire escape window. While he was lucky not to have any broken bones, he was unlucky enough to have a bad concussion. A really bad one. One that meant he couldn’t fall asleep. Also unfortunately, he only had the one bed and the enormous Nomad wouldn’t fit on his couch, so they’d have to share. It was only after he helped Nomad into his bed that he noticed the blood, and, unthinking, he pulled the cowl off to check for another, serious injury. And gasped. Nomad was Steve Rogers, his best friend in school, who’d died in an IED attack in Iraq 5 years earlier.

@polizwrites Natasha Romanov and Virginia Potts are the proprietors  of  Chaykus -  a Russian tea room on the seedy side of town.  Its new mission  is to be a sanctuary for women  who have been smuggled into the country for sex trafficking purposes.  As for the men who engage in such practices? Well, they are quickly discovering that their days are numbered.

@dixiehellcat - Pepper is the manager of the heavy metal band War Machine. James Rhodes, lead guitarist and founder of the band, is looking for a new lead singer. He did not expect the woo-loving Virginia to get horoscopes cast for the applicants and decide based on that. He just wants somebody who can sing, dammit. This Stark kid is uncomfortably attractive, yeah, but he's been thrown out of two bands already. what? the shower sex? it was only that one time after a show, and they were both wasted...

@dracusfyre Tony was born without a soul mark. Bucky's was lost forever when Hydra took his arm.  Without the universe to give you a hint that this person is The One, falling in love is gambling with your heart. But soulmates don't have to be born, they can be made - and Bucky and Tony decide that the same should be true of soul marks, as well

@ceealaina Tony was like nerd prime growing up. Normally he doesn’t let it bother him too much — he’s got inventions to invent, after all. But all of a sudden he realizes that he’s almost 20, he’s got two degrees under his belt, and has no idea how to do much more than kiss. He’s not entirely sure how he manages to convince Rhodey to sleep with him to “get it out of the way,” or how he manages to convince him to keep sleeping with him to “help improve my technique,” but it’s the best sex of his life (not that he has much to compare it to) and he never wants it to end. But it’s the night when they’re watching movies, and Tony’s ends up dozing against Rhodey’s shoulder only to wake up to a feather light kiss against his forehead that he realizes he might be in trouble. 

@thudworm - King Anthony considers it part of his royal duties to protect his people by going out and taking care of any monsters harassing them. Of course, no one can know that the knight Iron Man is really the king, which leads to some fun assumptions about Iron Man’s identity.

@jacarandabanyan Tony’s mom forbid him to purposefully drive out his roommates so that he can have a room all to himself where he can tinker until morning light. She had to hear about it from friends, acquaintances, and other well-known socialites often enough when Tony went to boarding school and ran his roommates off there. Now that he’s in college, that behavior must stop. Luckily for Tony, he doesn’t even have to try to get the first two roommates at MIT to request a room switch. But then he meets his third roommate- a tall, handsome, funny man named James Rhodes. At first it was just natural joy at having a fellow competent engineer to hang out with, and perhaps the occasional dirty thought. But his crush on the man quickly grows. Before he knows it, Tony’s pining hard for his best friend. Every once in a while he thinks Rhodey might be interested too- but then he hears Rhodey lecturing a computer science senior for plying Tony with :beer: alcohol at a party because “come on, man, kid’s only 16. Have a little class and try chasing skirts a little closer to your age.” After that, he’s convinced Rhodey will only ever see him as a friend and a kid.

psychiccatpanda - Tony works hard and puts in long hours.  So what if some of his long nights turn into very early mornings at CHew 2 OH.  The only drawback is his business partner and head baker, Steve, with his disappointed looks and his continual arguing.  When Steve's friend Bucky starts hanging around the shop, though, Tony notices.  Oh lord, he notices. A month or so later, one night when he and Steve are working after hours at Steve's place to plan their seasonal menu, Steve tells him that he's noticed him checking out Bucky.  Tony hits him with a decorative pillow and things kind of get out of hand.  Surveying the damage (let's face it - Steve's coffee table was never going to be quite right again), Steve turns to him, "I was just going to suggest you get some practice kissing before asking him out."  Oh.  Oh...

@tisfan So... the problem with being a necromancer is being able to practice one's skill. The local cemeteries won't even let you look at a dead body if you're not a relative. Tony Stark, budding necromancer, forges a marriage certificate for the John Doe so that he can practice his craft. Only to find that it works perfectly. Bucky is No Longer Dead, and 100% interested in staying married...

@abrighterdarkness He didn’t mean to snoop.  He knew that wasn’t what he was being paid for here--the loud laughter of the party echoing from down the hall where he was actually supposed to be, was clear enough reminder of that fact. All Tony wanted was two short minutes to breathe without being pawed at--yes, yes, that might be his job but breathing room was much appreciated just the same--and now he was stuck in this closet sized bathroom with what sounded like a mob-hit being discuss right outside the door.  He knew he should’ve turned this job down.

magica - Howard Stark had an idea. Some people - alright, most people, stop hitting me, Maria! - would say it was a terrible idea. But it was only a little injection of stuff based on that strange glowing blue cube they'd found in the Arctic. And Tony was absolutely willing, let's get that straight, Maria! How was Howard supposed to know that it'd enable Tony to open up his own portals? And if some mystical green energy happened to swamp Tony just as he was opening a portal to Egypt? Well, that wasn't his fault. The dark-haired, well-built Priest of Anubis that Tony manages to bring back with him? That is not his fault either, damn it, Maria!

@festiveferret - Tony could say with absolute confidence - at least, if he could say anything at all in his current predicament - that this was not the way his PR rep, Pepper, would have wanted him to come out. There were, he figured, several hundred ways that the day could have gone better, but if asked to rank the top three, he'd put them thusly: 

1) That he decided to come out by having a wild, unabashed make out session with none other than Captain America, in the middle of a busy New York street.

2) That it was, in fact, the morning after their first "date" - a term he was applying loosely here - and not a tasteful reveal of a long-standing, safe, secure, adult relationship.

And 3) That at some point between the first floor lobby of his apartment building and the front door off his penthouse suite he'd suddenly, unexpectedly, and so-far permanently been turned into a ferret and no one knew.

It would also probably concern her to discover that of all these rather bewildering turns in his life, the one at the forefront of his mind was that ferrets couldn't send morning-after texts, and he didn't want Steve to think their little dalliance had been nothing more than an - albeit unfortunately public - one night stand.

Of one thing he was sure, however: Pepper was going to need a raise.