#Cass just gave a thumbs up with no follow-up questions | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

miryum · 4 months ago

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"The Crime Scene"

Summary: Detective!Jason Todd x detective!Reader based on Jake and Amy’s relationship

Series Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of violence (but nothing descriptive), guns and other police stuff

Series Masterlist

Y/n stood by an apartment door that was blocked off by police tape, scrolling through her pictures. She and Jason had officially been dating for three weeks, and in her opinion, it was going great. Two nights ago they had another date which consisted of going to the State Fair. Y/n had insisted that they get the famous cookies (“They’re a staple of the fair, Jaybird! It wouldn’t be the State Fair without diabetes!”), ride the giant slide (“Darling, I’m an adult male with a full-time job. As much as I wanna make you happy, I’m not riding- oh my god, oh my god … Okay, can we go again?”), and go on the skyride. The day had ended with a camera roll full of Jason and Y/n pictures, Y/n’s favourite being Jason going through the children’s faux farm where kids had to collect small packages and do chores akin to farming. They followed a dirt path and collected plastic apples, packets of corn, and swaths of real sheep wool. At the end, they cashed it all in for an ice cream sandwich. Luckily, Y/n had been able to snag a picture of Jason in a tiny apron and holding a wicker basket. His mouth was downturned, but he waited patiently in line for his promised ice cream sandwich.

“Hey. Sorry I'm late,” Cass said and Y/n looked up. “The coffee guy was…”

Y/n choked on her spit. “Assaulting your head? What is going on up there?” She referenced Cass’ hairstyle. Instead of her loose pixie-cut, Cass’ hair was ironed straight in a tight bob.

“Is it bad?” Cass grimaced.

“Before I answer that question,” Y/n said, “do you currently have a knife on you?”

“Yes, several.”

“Then I love it.” Y/n gave her a thumbs up. “It really... I mean, it’s hair. You look like Edna from The Incredibles. I'm sorry, don't stab me.” She shielded her face with her arms.

“My girlfriend, Harper, is going through beauty school. This week they’re doing hairstyles,” Cass explained. “She’s practising on me.”

“You’re still with Harper?!” Y/n giggled. “Geez, I love her! Uh, don’t take this the wrong way, but… is she passing?”

“Honestly, I don't know.”

“Well, let's get into this murder.” Y/n rubbed her hands together gleefully. “I'm hoping it's a dope one.” She flung open the door and ducked under the police tape. When she saw the apartment, she froze and her eyes widened in appreciation. “Mamma Mia. That's a bloody pizza pie.” She was referring to the scene before her, the floor smeared with blood in long lines, evidence markers covering every other metre, and the photographer was just finishing up.

“Detectives,” a detective named Al Kelly greeted them. “The Roomba was running when we got here. It smeared blood across the entire apartment.”

Cass smirked and turned to Y/n. “Is this dope enough for you?”

“It's a bloody robot, Cain.” Y/n grinned. “It's clearly a good start, but it's gonna take more than that to be certified as totally dope. Who's the victim?”

“Name is Steven Carlyle,” Kelly said.

Y/n hummed and shook her head. “Kind of a boring name. Not super dope.”

“He was a psychologist,” Kelly continued.

“Okay, a sharp turn away from dopeness, but who found the body?”

“His boss called the cops when he didn't show up to work, so he was found by Officer Fields.”

“Officer Fields?” Y/n whined. “You are seriously undoping this. Do you have anything else for me? Al?”

“The apartment was locked from the inside?” Kelly offered, wondering what Y/n wanted to hear.

“Mysterious. Dope,” Y/n nodded along.

“The alarm system was still armed.”

“Dope, dope, dope, dope. So hard to solve.” Y/n’s mouth dropped open appreciatively.

Cass asked, “any surveillance cameras?”

“Oh, yeah. Tons of them, but we checked them. No one was seen going in or out. Whoever did this was a ghost.” Al handed Cass a case file and she started flitting through it.

“Yes!” Y/n exclaimed. “A ghost! I officially declare this case ‘dope!’” She turned towards the apartment. “I love the first walkthrough of a crime scene. It's kind of like arriving at summer camp, except the lake is full of blood and your bunk mate is dead.” She paused before ambling through the room. “I think I may be bad at metaphors.”

Cass held up an interview transcript. “So after Carlyle comes home from work, the only person who even approaches his doorway is a delivery guy?”

“Yeah, but he never enters the apartment.”

Y/n gasped and pointed to an evidence marker. “Hey, Cass. Check it out. Triple digies!” The evidence marker displayed one-hundred and eighteen. “There's so much evidence, we hit triple digies!”

“Cool,” Cass commented.

“Very cool indeed,” Y/n agreed. “But you know what's not cool? Carlyle ordered his dinner from House of Lettuce. There's no way this guy knew he was gonna die! No one would want lettuce as their last meal. For example, my last meal... is gonna be any candy I get my hands on,” she shoved her hands in her pockets and extracted a pack of M&Ms.

“You just keep those in your pocket?” Cass pushed back a smile.

“We face death every day,” Y/n pointed out. “I gotta be prepared to go out on my own terms.”

“I can't even think about eating,” Cass gagged. “It smells like Tim’s armpits after he’s refused to go home for four days and is running on coffee.”

“When have you smelled Tim’s armpits…” Y/n trailed off.

A heavy set man with a thick moustache saddled up to them and said, “that's the heat wave. It speeds up the body decomp. I guess you could say this mystery is straight outta decomp......ton.”

“No.” Y/n rejected the attempted pun. “Who are you?”

“Angel Rojas. I'm running CSI and forensics.” The man took a sip of his coffee.

“If the heat is causing the smell, why don't we just turn on the air conditioning?” Y/n asked.

Rojas shook his head immediately. “That kind of air flow is gonna kick up all kinds of dust particles. That AC stays off, which means the odour in here? Only gonna get worse.” He dug a small clip out of his pocket and shoved it on his nose. “Pro tip: plug your noses. Had this bad boy custom-made to fit these sweet nosters.”

“Are you trying to abbreviate ‘nostrils’?” Y/n stared at Rojas, completely bamboozled.

“In CSI, we don't try. We do, son.”

“Son? I mean, transgender people are great, but that’s not how I identify, thank you very much.” She shot Rojas a pair of finger guns before saying, “well, it's been sort of okay meeting you. We're gonna turn our backs and ignore you now.” She and Cass loyally turned their backs.

“Hey, Y/n/n,” Cass smirked. “You know what it's time for?”

“I sure do! Y/n and Cass’ first impressions!”

Cass pointed to blood patterns on the wall. “Cast-off pattern on the far wall suggests upward knife slices. Y/n?”

Y/n knelt down next to Carlyle’s body. “Wounds on the vic's back means he didn't see the killer coming. Oof. Cass, my dearest?”

Cass shook her head and continued, “laptop, wallet, keys all in plain sight. No sign of forced entry. Doesn't connote a robbery. L/n?”

“But it does connote that our killer was waiting for Carlyle in the apartment.” She hesitated and asked, “did I just use the word ‘connote’ correctly?”

“You did.”

Y/n grinned. “Great. I’m just super smart. Please text Tim and tell him to suck it and that I am amazing and he should love me. Also, tell Jason that I’m the smarter one in the relationship and that even though he reads all the time, I am superior.”

“I’m not doing that.”

A voice frantically cried from the hallway, “I'm his mother! Let me in!”

Y/n grimaced and her jaw tensed. “Rock-paper-scissors for who has to talk to the vic's mom.”

“Deal.” The pair slammed their fists into their open palms and Y/n glared at Cass as the former held up paper and Cass showed two fingers to indicate scissors.

“It's a game of chance. How the hell do you always win?” Y/n groaned loudly.

“You always pick paper,” Cass said.

“That is not true,” Y/n scoffed. “Here, go again.” Y/n flattened her palm as paper and Cass held up scissors. “One more time. Alright, one more time. One more time. One more time. One more time.” Y/n kept holding up paper and Cass easily beat her every time with scissors. “Alright, one more time. One more time. God, this reverse psychology is a bust!” Y/n sighed and stepped outside to the hallway. “Ma'am?” she found Carlyle’s mother and smiled softly. “I'm Detective L/n. This is Detective Cain. I'm so sorry for your loss.”

“Please tell me whatever you can. Nobody will tell me anything,” Carlyle’s mother, Amy, begged.

“I really wish that I could, but we're just starting our investigation,” Y/n explained. “Now, is there anyone you can think of that would want to hurt your son?”

“No! Everybody loved Stevie. I don't know why this happened! Please, you have to find who did this.”

“We're doing everything we can,” Y/n reassured her.

“Promise me,” Amy pleaded slowly, staring helplessly at Y/n, “you'll find who did this.”

Cass stepped in and frowned, “ma'am, we can't promise-”

“Promise me!” Amy placed a hand on Y/n’s forearm and tears started forming in her eyes. “Stevie was my whole world. I'm a single mom… or, was a single mom.” She sniffed and wiped at her eyes.

Y/n took a breath and nodded. “I promise you.”

Cass falsely grinned at Amy, who was thanking Y/n profusely, and shoved Y/n back into the rotting apartment. “You really are an idiot, aren’t you?”

“Um, exsqueeze me?” Y/n crossed her arms, offended.

“Did you really just full-on promise a victim's family member we would solve a crime? You broke the number one rule of dealing with a victim's family member. What were you thinking?”

Y/n shrugged and muttered, “I don't know. She reminded me of my mom, okay? A single mother crying in the hallway? Those are some of my frequent childhood memories.”

Cass sighed and rubbed her temples, speaking more softly, “dude, you never make a promise, because if we don't solve this, you've given her false hope, and that is way worse.”

“Normally, I would totally agree with you, but we're going to solve this case. We have so much evidence. We hit triple digies! We'll interview his friends, neighbours, and coworkers. Come on. We got this!”

“Alright, fine. But you have to deal with her if we can’t solve it.”

“Okay.”

“My goodness.” Y/n placed a hand over her heart and raised her brows in Cass’ direction. “Did Mother Gothel finally let you out of the tower?”

Cass’s hair had been lengthened significantly by hair extensions that fell down to her waist. “What?” Cass squinted at her.

“It was a Tangled burn,” Y/n explained. “Jason and I had a Disney marathon last weekend.”

“Cool, but no. Harper’s learning how to weave in hair extensions. Anyway, I talked to the neighbours. Our vic had a party three nights before the murder. I talked to everyone on the guest list. They all have alibis, so I got nothing. How did your interviews go?”

Y/n sucked in a harsh breath. “Not great. I talked to his coworkers, friends, and family. No one had a motive. Everyone loved him. The dumb jerk. RIP,” she added quickly, waving a hand around in a bad rendition of crossing herself.

“Did you promise any of them that you'd find the killer?” Cass asked, glaring at Y/n.

Y/n stared at Cass for a tense moment before admitting, “yes, his aunt. She also reminded me of my mom. Her name was Y/m/n!”

“Y/n!” Cass reprimanded.

“Look, it's gonna be fine. This apartment is full of forensic evidence! There is no way that CSI hasn't found something. I have never been more confident in my entire-” she threw open the door and groaned as the smell immediately blasted her. “I can taste the smell. Ugh. You shouldn't be able to taste smells.”

“That's the heat cookin' the blood rot right out of the floorboards.” Rojas sauntered up to them. “Set scent to simmer. Serve over rice.”

Cass gazed uncomfortably at him before saying, “just so you know, Rojas, we're not responding positively to you as a person. Maybe just give us an update on the labs.”

“Copy that. The victim was stabbed 30 times. Coroner puts the time of death between six p.m. and seven-thirty p.m. Sunday night.”

“Okay, and how many DNA matches did you find?” Y/n asked.

“None.”

“What about hair?”

“None.”

“Fingerprints?”

“None,” Rojas repeated. “I have no matches of anything on any criminal databases whatsoever.”

Cass turned to Y/n. “Still feeling good about your promise, L/n?”

“Still feeling good about that haircut, Cousin It? I’m sorry, I’m a little frustrated right now but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I love you, Cass.” Y/n took a breath after her quick speech and said, “Rojas, how did you guys not find anything? You had fifteen people in here.”

“First of all, you sound so ignorant right now. I had fourteen guys here.” He scoffed. ”Like I'd ever get approval for fifteen guys. That's insane. Second of all, don't worry, we found something good. We tested the blood. This blood splatter belongs to the victim, this to a second individual, and that to a third.”

“Oh, hells, yes. We might have some perp blood in here. This is huge! Cass, we’re gonna solve this case!” She high-fived Cass and a couple mornings later, she stood outside the apartment, and greeted her friend, “ah, good morning, Prince Harry.” Cass’ hair was a brilliant, stark red.

“You seem particularly chipper this morning,” Cass remarked.

”Indeed I am,” Y/n agreed. “Because I finally tracked down the guy who delivered our vic his final meal and, in so doing, maybe saw the other two guys who bled all over this apartment.”

“We don't know there were three people in the apartment,” Cass reminded her friend.

“Delivery guy,” a cop introduced Y/n and Cass to a young, thin man dressed in a work uniform.

“Hello, sir,” Y/n smiled kindly and shook the delivery boy’s hand. ”We'd like to ask you a couple of questions.”

The delivery boy, who must’ve been no older than twenty-five, looked around at all the uniforms and equipment there. He nervously admitted, “okay, look, I ate a couple fries out of the bag, but everybody does that.”

Y/n shook her head, fingers tucked in belt loops. “That's not why you're here.”

“Oh, shit,” Max, the delivery boy, looked petrified. “Is this about weed?” he asked quietly, like it was a secret.

Y/n’s brows shot up and asked, “should it be?”

“No?”

“You delivered food to the guy in this apartment at six-forty p.m. on Sunday,” Cass cut in. “And within the hour, he was murdered.”

“What? How? That's horrible!” Max cried.

“Did you see anything suspicious?”

“No,” Max said. “But I didn't go inside. The guy came to the door. I just gave him the food.”

“And did you see or hear anyone else in the apartment?” Y/n crossed her arms.

“No, just that one guy. He ordered, uh, three beetroot zucchini wraps,” Max stuttered.

Y/n grimaced dramatically. “Three disgusting wraps. Three disgusting bloodstains. I knew it. There were three people in there.”

Cass stepped forward. “Would you be willing to go inside and let us know if anything looks different to you?”

“Yeah. Sure, that's fine. I don't care,” Max agreed as Y/n began to open the apartment door. Max stepped in and took one look around before screaming out, “why would you show this to me? Oh, I'm too high to see this.” He gagged and his eyes fell on the fishbowl which had bloodstains on the glass. “There's blood on the fish! On the fish!”

Y/n turned to Cass and said quietly, “I always forget how weirdly numb to horrific things we are. Do you think it affects the relationships we build with others?”

“Oh, for sure,” Cass agreed, nodding stoically as Max continued wailing.

“Oh.”

Cass placed a hand on Max’s back, who was currently bent over, retching up air. “You must have seen something. You delivered the food at six-forty, and sometime before seven-thirty, Carlyle was stabbed to death.”

“Stop saying ‘stabbed!’” Max pleaded. “What I saw here forever changed me. My heart is still pounding!”

“Wait. Carlyle was wearing a smartwatch, right?” Y/n asked, whirling around to the evidence marker that stood by Carlyle’s phone. “Those things track your heart rate. If we look at his phone, we can see the exact moment his heart stopped beating. Here we go.” She opened the phone. “Activities app. And... boom! His heart rate dropped to zero at exactly six-oh-three.”

Cass’ brows furrowed and she muttered, “the food wasn't even ordered until six-sixteen, which means…”

Both detectives exclaimed, “the killer ordered the food!”

Max, who was sitting in fetal position, yelled out, “oh, god. Did I talk to a murderer?!”

“Y/n,” Cass ignored Max. “This guy saw the perp. We have to get him in front of a sketch artist.”

“Oh, yeah. I'm feeling it now, Cass.” She bounced up on the balls of her feet. “At this time tomorrow, we're gonna know exactly what our killer looks like!”

“We have no idea what our killer looks like,” Cass said the following day, bags under eyes.

“Well, that's not totally true.” Y/n shuffled through sketch renderings. “We now know that the killer might look like Sebastian Stan, Winona Ryder, or Bilbo Baggins.”

“The delivery guy kept starting over. Apparently, he's always high.” She shook her head. “I'm sorry, man. Our big break turned into nothing.”

A voice sounded from the end of the hallway. “Detectives,” Captain Wayne strode up to them, cap under his arm.

“Ah! Captain,” Y/n plastered a grin on her face. “Did you come down here to take a look at the two best detectives you've ever worked with in action?”

“The two best detectives I've ever worked with are Prince and Pennyworth,” Wayne said immediately.

“Oh.” Y/n nodded once and stared at Wayne. “You never mentioned them before.”

“They were excellent,” Wayne replied. “I'm here because Major Crimes wants the case. I was hoping to tell them you have some leads. I overheard you mention a Bill Bo-Baggins. Should we bring him in?”

Y/n stifled a chuckle. “Well, as much as I would love to meet him, he is not a suspect.”

“Okay, so who is?”

Y/n swallowed and said, “at this time? No one. But... we are currently investigating no leads.” She drew her lips in and waited for the disappointment.

“So you have nothing,” Wayne restated.

Cass glared at Y/n. “Not nothing. L/n made a new best friend. The vic's mom. She promised her she'd solve the case.”

Wayne pursed his lips. “That's a rookie mistake.”

Y/n held up her hands defensively. “Okay. Fine. Maybe I'm not Pierce and Pennyweather.”

“Prince and Pennyworth,” Wayne corrected. “And they would've remembered your name after one mention.”

“Because we're memorable, and they're not.” Y/n held up a hand to Cass for a high-five. “Turned it around.” Cass shook her head and Y/n dropped her hand, continuing, “alright, look, Captain. Cain and I are gonna solve this case. The answer is in this room.” She gestured around to the bloody apartment. “We just have to focus and let the room speak to us.” She shouted out to the open house, “isn't that right, room?”

“When you talk to the room,” Wayne deadpanned, “I lose even more confidence in you.”

“Why?” Y/n shrugged then turned to beg her Capitan, “can you please just buy us some more time? Sir, I feel like we've earned this.”

Wayne sighed heavily and conceded, “work fast.”

Y/n shot him a thumbs up and beamed. “Got it.” She turned back to the apartment and rubbed her hands together. She said to Cass, “okay. Let's look at the scene like we're seeing it for the first time with fresh eyes.” She jumped to the floor, next to where Carlyle’s body used to lay. “Vic was face down.”

Cass stood in the kitchen, analysing the blood on the wall. “Cast-off splatter suggests upward knife slices.”

“No signs of forced entry. Laptop, wallet, keys were all there,” Y/n said, staring at the desk where all the items lay.

“Doesn't connote a robbery,” Cass finished.

“Wait a minute. Have we said this already?” Y/n looked around. “Are we having the exact same conversation?”

“Yep.”

“Cool.” Y/n’s jaw twitched. “Moving on. Windows and doors locked from the inside. Nobody in or out.” She pressed her fingertips to her temples. “Think, think, think... oh!” She snapped her fingers and her head whipped upward to focus on the ceiling. “The upstairs neighbour and his best friend drilled through the ceiling, murdered Carlyle, bled all over the apartment, then climbed back up and sealed the hole behind them!”

Rojas spoke up from behind them. “Negative, we would have found construction debris and microscopic paint fibres. The only thing that needs patching... is that theory.”

Y/n waved him away. “Okay. New idea. We're gonna get inside the mind of the killer. We eat the veggie wraps!” She opened the days old food container and unwrapped the veggie wraps. A shiver ran up her spine as she took in the disgusting looking food. “Here we go,” she hesitantly took a bite of the wrap and immediately gagged. “Oh, this sick bastard,” she groaned. “Oh, man. This is one twisted motherfucker. Oh, the beets are raw. This guy is demented, Cass!” She harshly swallowed down the food before throwing away the rest of the veggie wrap, glaring at it. “How can someone stomach that…?”

A week later, Y/n stood in the middle of the room and held her arms out wide.“Okay. All we have to do is figure out what kind of person can walk by cameras without being seen. Someone camouflaged as a wall.” She glanced around, squinting at the walls, as if she could find the person.

“Unlikely,” Cass said.

“Harry Potter and his invisibility cloak,” Y/n said proudly.

Cass pointed out, “Not a real person.”

“Well, uh, how do you know, Cain? Have you searched all of Britain for a magical castle? I didn’t think so.”

A couple days later, Y/n sat on the kitchen counter, legs crossed and wearing a tank top and pyjama shorts. She suddenly gasped loudly and waved her hands around. “My god, Cain, come here. Look at the blood spatter. Do you see what I see?”

Cass walked over from the bedroom and wondered, “Uh, blood?”

“I think I just made a connection,” Y/n said. “The number three is everywhere. Three people. Three types of blood. And guess what the tax was on the veggie wraps? Three dollars and nineteen cents, but if you ignore the nineteen, then it's three!” she cried out.

Cass shook her head. “Okay. You've officially lost your mind.”

Y/n jumped off the counter and hissed, “what? Who told you that? Was it room?”

“No. It's the fact that you think the room has a voice and also you're working in your PJs!”

“To beat the heat, Cass!” Y/n shouted. “To beat the heat! If we can't turn on the AC, this isn’t crazy, it's just smart.”

Cass took a deep breath and said quietly, “Y/n, I gave the case to Major Crimes.”

“What?” Y/n’s lips parted in disbelief. “Cass, y-you can't do that. I promised Amy.”

“Yeah, and now you can't let it go,” Cass argued. She opened the apartment door and a group of men in uniforms and windbreakers entered. “The scene's yours, guys. I'm sorry, Y/n/n,” she said softly. “It's over.”

Y/n scoffed and marched out. “Okay, fine! I'll leave. Come on, room!” she called out to the apartment.

“You left your pants,” Cass said loudly.

“I don't care!” Y/n shouted back.

Cass slid into the briefing room, noticing Y/n who was crouched on the floor. “Hey, Y/n?”

Y/n popped up and gasped. “Ah! Hello, Cassandra, my coworker and dearest friend.”

Cass shoved her hands into her pockets. “Look, I know you're mad at me, but I only gave away that case to help you. You were acting like a lunatic.”

Y/n placed a bottle of ketchup on one of the tables. “Don't even worry about it. You were totally right. I was in too deep, and honestly, I feel so free not having to work that case anymore, so thank you.” She didn’t know what to do, so she gave Cass an awkward little bow.

Cass smiled, relieved. “Cool, you're welcome. Uh, what's up with all the ketchup?”

“It's, um… for my hot dog.” Y/n nodded slowly. She began to push Cass out of the room. “Anyways, this has been a great chat, but I better get back to my hot dog.”

Cass frowned and pushed past her and froze at the sight of Stephanie who was laying on the floor, covered in ketchup. “Oh, wow.” Cass said slowly, eyes wide.

“There's nothing crazy about this, sister,” Y/n said. “It's the crime scene!” She pointed to the differently arranged tables in the briefing room. “There’s the stove, the kitchen island, blood,” she splattered some more ketchup on a table. “And of course, the body,” she flourished towards Steph.

“Hi, Cass!” Steph waved at her friend. “I'm the body.”

“You gave away my case, but guess what?” She let out a ‘boo-yah’ and held up two fingers. “I spent two months in that apartment. I can recreate it in my sleep.”

“Have you slept?” Cass crossed her arms.

“No,” Y/n said.

Dick walked into the room and looked around, shocked at the mess. “What the hell is going on here?!”

“Y/n’s gone insane because she promised the victim's mom she'd solve her son's murder,” Cass explained.

Dick placed his hands on his hips, disappointed. “Seriously? You never promise a victim's relative anything.” He took a breath and commanded, “clean it up and get out. You've lost your mind,” he decided.

“That's not true!” Y/n retorted. “I'm solving this.”

“Hey, sweetheart?” Jason placed a comforting hand on Y/n’s back. He had gotten a concerning text from Cass that had persuaded Jason to stop by Y/n’s apartment during his lunch break. He had originally knocked on the door, but when she didn’t answer, he had used the key she gave him for emergencies.

Y/n jumped at the contact and whirled around, eyes bloodshot and the bags under her eyes were darker than ever. “Jason? When did you get here?” Before her sat the blueprints of Carlyle’s apartment.

Jason’s eyes widened at her appearance before his expression softened sadly. “Oh, darling, how much sleep have you gotten?”

“Uh… when was Monday?”

“Four days ago,” Jason answered gently. “Come on,” he gently helped her out of her chair and led her to the bedroom. “Can we get some rest?” Y/n nodded reluctantly and allowed him to tuck her into bed. “I’m just gonna stay here to make sure you get sleep well,” Jason whispered.

“Okay…” Y/n soon fell asleep, a small smile tugging on Jason’s lips. He returned to Y/n’s living room and sat down on the couch, turning the TV on, making sure the volume was low so as to not disturb her.

However, an hour or so later, Jason heard some rustling from Y/n’s room. Worried, he crept to Y/n’s room and peered in. When he saw what his girlfriend was doing, he sighed heavily. “Y/n, my darling, please go to sleep.”

Y/n was using the blueprints as a blanket, reading over them intently, eyes blurry and exhausted. “Never,” she muttered. Jason took the blueprints away from her before typing a text message on his phone.

That afternoon, Cass stopped by Y/n’s apartment. She was greeted by Jason who led her inside and motioned to the bathroom. Y/n was sitting in the tub, cuddled in a blanket, and muttering to herself. Cass sighed and knelt down next to the bathtub. “L/n,” she said. “So, I can see how much this case means to you. I was thinking that maybe I could help you solve it.”

Y/n glanced up and the blanket fell off her shoulders. Jason came up behind her and rewrapped the blanket around her. “Really?” she asked. “But I thought Major Crimes just labelled it a cold case.”

“They did,” Cass confirmed. “But clearly, you’re not gonna let it go. And hey, if they’re out of the way, then we can take all the credit ourselves.” She smirked loosely and Y/n beamed.

The detective leapt out of the bath and wrapped her arms around her friend. “Thank you, Cass!”

The following afternoon, Y/n and Cass arrived at Carlyle’s apartment. “That's weird,” Cass hummed. “The police tape's already gone.”

“Oh, yeah, Major Crimes released the scene yesterday.” The pair walked into the apartment as Y/n said, “but I'm sure they haven't had time to clean up the evidence…” she trailed off, looking at the perfectly spotless rooms.

“Oh, shit, they emptied the place out.” Cass said. “Nothing left in here. I can't believe this is how it ends.”

“Yeah. Is it weird that I miss the smell?” Y/n’s lips turned up in a reminiscing smile. “Wait a minute, do you hear that?” Her head tilted to the side as she tried to figure out if the soft humming noise was coming from the apartment, or if she really was crazy and it was all in her head. “I've spent six hundred hours in this room, and I have never heard that sound.”

“It's because the air conditioning's never been turned on. It's coming from that vent,” Cass pointed to a large vent in the wall.

Y/n immediately took out a swiss army knife and unscrewed the bolts. She faithfully got down on her hands and knees and crawled into the huge vent. “I don't see anything,” she called back to Cass. “Wait, there's a bend. Oh, my god.” She came across a pack of plastic water bottles and some empty chip bags. “There's food and water in here!”

Half an hour later, Cass and Y/n stood in the precinct, Cass’ laptop propped open in front of them. Cass said, “we never saw the killer leave this apartment because he never left. But he couldn't have survived in there for months. That's insane.”

“He wasn't back there for months,” Y/n explained. “He just waited for the body to be discovered and then snuck out sometime after that.”

“But this place was crawling with cops.”

“Which is exactly what he wanted,” Y/n scratched at her nose. “He snuck out dressed like a cop.”

“Even if he had a uniform, somebody would've recognized him,” Cass said, thinking logically. In order for them to figure this case out, there couldn’t be any holes in the story.

“Not if his face was covered.”

“By a Hazmat suit!” Cass’ mouth fell open. “The CSI guys! Rojas said he had fourteen techs, but didn't you count fifteen?”

“I did count fifteen!” Y/n exclaimed loudly. “My maths was right! Suck it, Mrs. Wilson! She was my Algebra two teacher. She was actually very sweet. She believed in me.” Cass shot her a look and Y/n remembered, “oh. Yeah. Here's the security footage. Play the tape.” Cass pressed play and Y/n narrated along to the video, “okay, so there's us arriving. Alright…. Wait. Go back.” She pointed to the one guy on the screen. “Look at this guy. All the other techs are wearing their little booties, but he's not. Follow that guy.”

“Where's the footage from the grocery across the street?” Cass muttered to herself, pulling up the camera logs.

“We have that?” Y/n asked, astonished. “That is so crazy. We’re under surveillance at all times. I'm sure it's fine and it won't backfire and ruin society.” She shook her head, ridding herself of the thoughts. “Zoom in on his face. Hm… that man isn’t CSI. But he is about to say… CS-bye.” She grinned at her pun and announced, “okay, Cass. You know what it's time for!”

The friends high-fived each other and said, “Cass and Y/n’s final impressions!”

“The dude’s a hit man. He snuck into the apartment during the party several nights earlier, hid in the vent for three days, then emerged and murdered Carlyle. Y/n?”

Y/n took over and added, “he then spilled bags of blood that he stole from a blood bank all over the floor and turned on the victim's Roomba to make the crime scene as messy as possible. Cass?”

“The messy scene meant there'd be extra crime techs, allowing the perp to sneak out in a Hazmat suit, which records show he bought online. Two weeks before the crime was committed. My only question, who was behind all this?”

Two days later, a man by the name of Warren Lawford (“Really? That’s the most ironic name ever!”) sat in the interrogation room and said, “I was hired by a depressed grocer.”

“Wow.” Y/n muttered. “Dopeness taking a late hit here, but we still got you! See you at the sentencing, peace, and we're out!” She held up a peace sign before she and Cass swept out of the room, looking smug.

Amy waited for them outside, face contorting into relief when Cass explained that Lawford was pleading guilty. “Oh, thank god. But why did he kill Stevie? Was he doing something bad?”

“Not at all,” Y/n reassured her. “Steve dropped one of his clients that was too emotionally attached to him and the client went kinda crazy and issued a hit on him.”

“Well, is anybody going after him?”

“If they're not, then I will. I promise you,” Y/n said softly.

Amy’s eyes filled with tears and she spread her arms open. “Come here,” she sniffed, wrapping Y/n in a big hug, electing a squeak from the detective.

“Why are you promising her?” Cass mouthed to Y/n from out of Amy’s line of sight.

“I can't help myself!” Y/n whispered harshly.

“Goodbye, detectives,” Amy grinned before exiting the precinct.

“Take care,” Y/n called after the woman.

“I gotta say,” Cass huffed a chuckle. “We would not have solved that case if you hadn't gotten involved emotionally.”

“Think we'd be better cops if we did that all the time?” Y/n asked.

“Absolutely not, never again.”

“Yeah, it was a total nightmare.”

#title of your sex tape #jason todd x reader #jason todd #dc x reader #dcu #b99 #b99/dcu #slow burn

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fidothefinch · 1 year ago

Text

In the Library

For Holy Server B@tman prompt: Reverse Robins AU Jason noticed the new kid the second he stepped across the library’s threshold. There was a large window, and though little Dickie was silent, he cast a shadow across Jason’s book as he passed. Rookie.

Jason turned a page nonchalantly, hoping that the kid would get bored and move on. He only half understood what his eyes were scanning as he mentally tracked Dick’s progress. Across the library. Up the shelves of the furthest case. Across the top shelf. It was the long pause that followed, Dick likely perched on the bookshelf directly behind Jason’s comfortable seat on the wingback chair, that finally made Jason nervous.

Without moving his head, he glanced at the chandelier twelve feet above. Sure, the kid was an acrobat, but he wouldn’t—

“Ha!”

It took all of Jason’s vigilante training not to jump at the sight of the feral child shooting across the ceiling. Dick had a wide grin on his face as he caught the chandelier like a pro (which he had been). The whole structure swung with his momentum, making the crystal chime.

When Jason’s heart had started to beat again, he snapped his book shut around one finger to hold his place. Pretense gone. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.

Dick had maneuvered himself so he hung upside-down by his knees from the lowest ring. “Did I scare you?” he asked, batting his eyelashes. Not even a hint of shame.

“You’re lucky you didn’t bring the whole thing down.”

Dick shrugged. “I’ve done it before.”

Jason raised his eyebrows. “Oh, really?” He stretched out the second word, making his interest clear.

Dick paused mid-stretch and eyed Jason, like he suddenly realized he could be dealing with a narc. “What are you reading?” he asked instead.

Jason wasn’t falling for such terrible deflection. “You could hurt yourself, and I’m not going to get in trouble for letting you. Get down from there.”

Dick grinned, and Jason didn’t realize his mistake until he swung the chandelier, gaining momentum, and launched himself across the room again. Jason reflexively stood, like he could have caught him, but Dick flipped in the air once, twice, and landed in a roll. Jason just stared flatly as the kid stood tall, arms high, and gave a grand bow.

“I get it now,” Jason said. “You’re a show off.”

Dick stuck his tongue out at him. Jason hoped that would be the end of it, but Dick bounded up to him like a puppy, all lanky limbs and boundless energy. So much energy. Was Jason ever like this when he was Dick’s age? He understood now why Tim had avoided him at first.

“What are you reading?” the puppy-eyed boy asked.

“Shakespeare.”

“For school?”

“No.”

Dick gasped. “For fun?”

Jason glowered. “Shakespeare is a master of the written word. Look,” Jason thumbed the well-loved hardback open to a dogeared page. (It had been leftover from whoever last read from it. Damian, maybe. Jason would never.) He skimmed a few lines before he found what he was looking for. “To be or not to be, that is the question—”

Dick groaned theatrically. Everything he did was theatrical, Jason was beginning to suspect. “Sounds boring.”

“A man propelled to madness by his grief and his drive for revenge, boring?” Jason took his seat again. “I think Cass still has Dick and Jane in her room, if that’s more your speed.”

Dick scowled at him, but Jason pointedly stuck his nose back into his book.

“Fine,” Dick said. The seat next to Jason rocked as Dick invited himself in, legs kicked over the armrest.

“Your elbows are digging into my side,” Jason grumbled.

Dick adjusted and flopped all the way into Jason’s lap. He was giving Jason that grin again, the one he was beginning to associate with trouble.

He could just shove Dick into the floor. But Jason was mature. So he propped his elbows on Dick’s sternum to hold his book up.

Dick wisely didn’t complain.

After reading silently for a few minutes, a small voice asked, “Can. . . I mean, would you. . . .”

Jason understood. He cleared his throat in acknowledgement, and picked up right where he had left off.

As he began to read the verse out loud, Dick melted into his lap. Jason hadn’t realized how tense he had been. Maybe he should cut the kid some slack.

After he learned about Shakespeare.

#reverse robins au #dick grayson #jason todd #batman #batfam #dc comics #fido writes

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incorrectbatfam · 2 years ago

Note

could you do any stephanie and bruce headcanons

I need to work on using the "keep reading" cuts

Bruce's grief after Steph died was much more silent than Jason's because otherwise the public would've started prying, but he also placed every ounce of blame on himself and seriously considered retiring Batman (and in turn, Robin, so no more kids have to get hurt)

She jokingly made him pinky promise to take her to Belgium for waffles on her 18th birthday and he stuck to his word

They sold rainbow cookies at Pride and the proceeds (plus an extra donation from Bruce) went to Steph's high school GSA

Steph changed Bruce's lock screen to her double-chin selfie with a psychedelic filter. When one of his coworkers at saw it, he just said, "Kids, am I right?"

They are contractually obligated to sing the Space Jam theme together at karaoke

Whenever they travel as a family, Steph and Bruce each get their own hotel rooms—Bruce because he snores and Steph because she thinks she's Adele performing at Wembley Stadium

She trolled Bruce's Twitter so hard that people were convinced she was a rival CEO

Steph refused to let Bruce pay for college, so instead he visited often and helped her write the perfect scholarship applications

She found a five-leaf clover and stuck it to Bruce's cowl in the middle of his town hall speech

They tried to cook together and reeeally overshot the amount of salt

Bruce cried a little when she moved to her first apartment

They went to a family therapist for 3 months after Steph came back from the dead to sort everything out

Steph doesn't remember when she told Bruce she doesn't like licorice, but he never forgot

She decorated Bruce's motorcycle helmet with Spoiler stickers

They have a shared hatred for people who don't put their shopping carts away

Bruce learned the "make a wish on a dandelion" thing from Steph, and he does it when no one's watching

In her senior year of high school, Steph was on the freshman orientation team and to stand out from the other orientation leaders, she had Batman stand next to her handing out free t-shirts

Bruce follows her suspicions, no matter how silly they might seem at first—she has a better eye for details than him

One time he found her tinkering with a non-functional music box she found in the attic. They stayed up all night to restore it together and when it was done, it had a newly painted ballerina and played Martha's favorite childhood song

When she was Batgirl, people constantly compared her to Babs and Cass and it made her question every tiny thing she did and whether she could live up to the mantle. Bruce knew this, and he also knew this wasn't something he could fix for her in one fell swoop. Still, that didn't stop him from leaving the positive comments on her mission reports and telling her she's doing a good job in the middle of a fight

"Bruce, I can read your mind." "What am I thinking right now?" "Why is her thumb in my ear?"

Her way of waking him up involves a squirt gun in each hand

Bruce thinks Steph is really brave for showing up to the Wayne gala in an outfit that's half of her Spoiler costume mixed with pajamas

Bruce failed his own company's drug test because Steph gave him a poppy seed bagel that morning

Steph played an important role in Bruce and Selina's wedding: making sure villains stayed away and the cake didn't topple over

One time they were the only ones awake at sunrise when the snow had just freshly fallen, so they raced outside for a snowball fight

One of their undercover disguises was as a father and daughter—with Steph being the father

Steph forgives Bruce for her death because she was the one who put herself in danger, and she hopes someday he can learn to forgive himself

They both picked the worst wallpapers for the bathroom so Alfred had to override their decision

Steph made him watch all the Tinker Bell movies

#ask #anonymous #bruce wayne #batman #stephanie brown #spoiler #batfamily #batfam #batgirls #batkids #batsiblings #batman family #dc comics #headcanon #tw death mention #tw food mention #tw angst

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freedomsofdream · 2 years ago

Text

* A small snip into the future while a go writting Jason's time with Verena. This will have spoilers for her love interest*

A Mothers Return

The quiet sound of a far off water dripping off a stalagmite. The batfamily was all down in the batcave but, not for patrol or a villain out break. Verena had called early informing Bruce that his high school fling had returned from the dead. Now everyone was in the cave watching the shit storm happen, but with a turn of evens it wasn't with who they thought it would be with.

" You told the brotherhood about my plan?"

Verena looked baffled at her mother. The woman in questioned sighed while pushing her short hair back.

"They have access to things we need Verena. I made a dissison. We need them"

"They tortured me for weeks on end! How can you trust them? What is so important that you need you can't get here?"

The older woman looked at her daughter then at Bruce, who stood next to his lover Selene Kyle. The awkward feel filled the air. This caused Verena to scoff.

"You can't be serious. You are jealous of them? Ignore them! I need you to be a mom for once in your life!"

Mary glared at her daughter. Verena glared right back. Her siblings all tensed at the glare her older sister gave.

"I'm playing catch up in a race I feel like I am leagues behind Verena. I'm not just a mom!"

Mary took a step forward looking up at her daughter who stood on the steps up to the batcave. In a condescending tone, Mary spoke again.

"You are not a child"

A pain like no other rushed through Verena. As Jason and Dick moved to hurt the woman who hurt there older sister. Tim and Damian held back the older siblings while glaring at the woman. Cass and Duke flanked Verena so she had some type of backup. The sound of sand could be heard. Cass and Duke turned around to see the King of Dreams appear behind them.

"I never was. So if we are done here, there is the door Alfred can show you out. I'm busy fixing the mistake you made Mary."

Verena turned her back to her mother who looked like she was just stabbed. Alfred gently but, firmly escorted the older woman away. Verena looked up at the taller and paler man. A tear escaped past her, gently falling. Before it could meet the ground Morpheus gently grasped her face. His thumb getting rid of the tear, before they both disappeared to the Dreaming.

"I do request you never come to the manor again."

Alfred said while opening the front door for Mary. Mary scoffed while walking out.

"By order of the batman I guess."

" No by my order. You hurt my Granddaughter. While Bruce has a no killing rule, I do not follow such rule. Please keep that in mind."

#batfam x batsis #bruce wayne #batman #richard grayson #damian wayne #cassandra cain #older sister #duke thomas #jason todd #tim drake #dream of the endless #morpheus #morpheus x reader

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sohotthateveryonedied · 4 years ago

Text

Dad...I’m Bilingual

Read here on AO3!

Summary:

Dick hums—a quiet, sleepy sound. He’s drifting, but only slightly. The painkillers are doing their job. “It’s dumb,” he says. “I can beat up bad guys an’ stop an apocalypse, but I can’t even tell my own dad I’m bilingual.”

Bruce just stares at him. Realization kicks in a moment later. “Do you mean bisexual?”

“Yeah, bionical.” He said that, didn’t he? Bruce must be getting slow in his old age.

When he wakes up, the first thing that Dick’s sluggish mind can latch onto is how tingly his tongue feels. His taste buds buzz like someone poured a can of Pepsi into his mouth while he was sleeping, bubbles tickling the path down. Or maybe pop rocks. Or tiny little bumblebees, their legs scritching and scratching the surface they tread. The tingling spreads outward, Dick notices as he careens toward the wakeful part of wakefulness. Mouth to neck to torso to fingers to the cement block that he is pretty sure used to be his right leg. Soda and pop rocks and bees, the whole way. A quiet, questioning groan slips through Dick’s heavy lips. He cracks his eyes open and squints, blinking against the unforgiving brightness of the room he’s in. “Mm. Bruce?” A nearby chair squeaks. “Dick? Are you awake?” Bruce’s voice is uncomfortably close, booming in the short space between them. Dick grimaces. “C’n you...back up? Your breath smells like meatloaf.” He opens his eyes fully and is greeted by Bruce’s lined face, bags sagging under his eyes. They’re in a hospital room, white walls and white sheets.

Bruce’s meatloaf breath huffs once in amusement, then retreats. “I’ll take that to mean you’re back up, then.” In his lap is a magazine laid open to a page that’s all squiggles and bumbled lines. It matches the rest of the room. Dick’s head swims.

The numbness has receded mostly now that Dick is back online, but his stubborn cement leg takes longer to reboot. “Feels like I died. Then came back to life. Then died again.” His mind churns slush and soup. “You did just get out of surgery,” Bruce tells him. “Leslie said you’ll be woozy for a few hours.” Dick frowns. “I can’t feel my leg.” He has to parse his words carefully, his mouth working slowly like his muscles have melted into molasses. “I should hope not. You just had your knee put back together.” That part sounds...somewhat familiar? Dick has mismatched memories of surfing a stop sign across Clayface’s back, then sirens so loud and so close they split his head in half. He remembers Leslie yelling into one ear while the other listened to Bruce and Steph arguing about a video she uploaded to the Batman Incorporated Twitter account. That was completely irresponsible, Bruce said, out of his Batman suit and in one of the backup outfits he has stored in Leslie’s office for nights like that one. You’re lucky he only broke his knee. That stunt earned the Bat brand fifty Twitter followers, Steph snarked back. I need a goddamn vacation, Leslie said. “Tim left to crash a jet ski in the harbor,” Bruce continues, though Dick doesn’t remember asking, “so your alibi is taken care of. Jason and Cass went to track down the pudding cart, and Alfred took Damian home to sleep.” The half-drawn curtains make it hard to decide if that’s a sunrise or a sunset he’s seeing. Either way, it speaks to long hours of sitting and waiting and hoping. “I think…” Dick licks his dry lips. “I think they cut my leg off?” It feels like it. Did Leslie take his leg away as punishment for being dumb? Is the hospital hiding it from him? Bruce snorts. “Then what is that?” He gestures to Dick’s leg, the entire thing encased in weighty layers of gauze and plaster. “An imposter,” Dick says. Duh. “They gave me fake metal parts like Vic.” Dick slumps against the pitifully flat pillow behind his head. “My brain feels fuzzy. Did they take stuff out of my head?” That would explain the foggy memories and the way all of his words swim away from him like he’s been plunged underwater. Underwater hospital. Now there’s an idea. “You’re on painkillers,” Bruce says plainly, licking his thumb and turning the page of his magazine. “Heavy ones, it looks like.” Dick can’t remember if painkillers are supposed to feel like bumblebees buzzing around inside his thoughts. Maybe they’re made of honey. “Y’know, last time I woke up all confused in a hospital room, a bullet stole secrets from my head.” Bruce looks pained. “I assure you that all of your secrets are intact this time around.” Dick hums. “You should...take the painkillers out.” “Why is that?” “‘Cause I don’t wanna spill stuff.” Bruce frowns. He doesn’t say anything for so long that Dick wonders if he spoke in Portuguese by mistake. Bruce places his magazine on the plastic chair beside him. “Well, I can’t take out the IV because you’ll be in pain, but I promise you that the room is safe. Tim checked for bugs.” Why a bug would be in the human hospital, Dick doesn’t know. He shakes his head. The front pieces of his hair fall into his eyes, but his arms are too tired to fix it. “That doesn’t work, ‘cause then...then you’ll know. And that’s bad.” “This isn’t about your secret identity, is it?” Another head shake. “I might acci-mentally tell you ‘bout how I spilled tapioca on the Batmobile’s seats.” Bruce’s eyes widen. “That was you?” “Yeah, but don’t tell Bruce, ‘kay? You gotta promise.” Bruce rubs his temples like he’s sleepy. “I spent ten minutes yelling at Jason for that. I made him clean the seats.” “Yeah, ‘cause you’re an asshole.” Dick huffs, blowing at his pesky bangs until Bruce rolls his eyes and pushes them back for him. “Thank you.” “I appreciate you telling me about the tapioca. We’ll talk more about that when you’re sober.” Dick makes a face. “The whole point’s that I can’t tell you about the tapioca. It’s a secret. I’ve got too many of those—a whole big fuckin’ army of secrets. And it’s too many. No fun when you can’t share ‘em.” “What about Nightwing?” Bruce asks. “‘S different. You already know that one. I can share it.” “But you can’t share the other ones,” Bruce finishes. Dick snaps his fingers. “Zactly.” Bruce studies Dick—his bundled-up leg and the clear bag hanging on the hook beside his bed, pumping drugs into his bloodstream. “I should let you rest.” He starts to get up, the action somehow guilty despite there being no inherent guilt in vacating a chair. Bruce can pour guilt into anything if he tries hard enough. “You wanna know the worst part?” Dick continues on like Bruce hadn’t spoken, words spilling freely over compromised lips. “I could tell you. I could. But I’m a scaredy cat, so I can’t.” Reluctantly, Bruce sits back down. “I don’t know about that. I think you’re very brave.” “I’m not. If I was, I’d be able to tell you, because I know you’ll still love me no matter what I am, and I’m still scared. And that’s what scaredy cats do. They run away.” When Bruce’s face wears that expression, that gentle turn of his mouth and that pang in his eyes, Dick is stricken by memories of being nine years old. He’d go out every night in the Robin suit, wearing it like a suit of armor and trusting that nothing could hurt him. Bruce would be there by his side, protecting his Robin from harm at all costs. His soul wrapped around Dick’s like a second layer of armor, and it was then that Dick started to wonder if it was possible to have two fathers. “There’s nothing wrong with being scared sometimes,” Bruce tells him now. “There is if you’re a superhero.” “Even then. Sharing a secret can be a scary thing, even when you know it’s safe. That’s why they stay secret for so long.” If Dick didn’t know any better, he’d think that Bruce already knew what Dick desperately wanted and didn’t want to say. But not even Batman can read minds. Dick hums—a quiet, sleepy sound. He’s drifting, but only slightly. The painkillers are doing their job. “It’s dumb,” he says. “I can beat up bad guys an’ stop an apocalypse, but I can’t even tell my own dad I’m bilingual.” Bruce just stares at him. Realization kicks in a moment later. “Do you mean bisexual?” “Yeah, bionical.” He said that, didn’t he? Bruce must be getting slow in his old age. Bruce leans back in his chair with an odd, bemused expression. It’s not an angry one—more like when he’s cracked a case and lets the truth soak in. What case he’s cracked, Dick doesn’t know. Puzzlement morphs into something soft. “Okay. You’re bisexual. That’s not so bad.” “Yeah. But it would change stuff if you knew.” “Not exactly,” Bruce says. “You’re still you, Dick. Nothing’s changed—not really.” “Mm.” Dick’s chest warms. That must be a delayed effect of the painkillers, surely. “Maybe I’ll tell you sometime, then. Later,” he amends. “When my head’s not full of mothballs.” “Sure, son.” Bruce reaches out to ruffle Dick’s hair. “Whenever you’re ready to tell me, I’ll listen.”

#HELLO FOLKS HAPPY FATHER'S DAY #i didn't even tend to post this on father's day but y'know what it makes sense #there's never enough good dad bruce content out there #dick grayson #nightwing #robin #batman #bruce wayne #batdad #batfamily #batfam #bisexual dick grayson #bi dick grayson #fanfiction #fanfic #dc comics #pride month #lgbtq #bisexual

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stressedoutcanary · 4 years ago

Text

Family Matters - Batfamily x Reader

Summary: A surprise birthday party and Batfamily being chaotic.

“That's it Dick just a little to the right...No the other right...No! Not there you goofus! Just...Just get down from the chandelier before it comes crashing down on the rest of us and For God's Sake let Duke handle the ribbons before you somehow strangle yourself with them”

Warnings ⚠️: Fluff, lots of it, angst because I can’t help myself, Reader has got some parental issues. Hurt/Comfort.

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: I wanted some good dad Bruce content so I did it myself. Also I might have been influenced by a post I made a while back about Bruce and his children. I haven't used reader's pronouns anywhere so it's kinda gender neutral.

I don’t know where I was going with this, my imagines are often like a train derailed from its track but I think it’s fine. So Enjoy ;)

•°•°•°•°

"Focus (Y/S/N), don't jump in in blind, assessing what action your opponent is about to undertake and countering it out before they can complete that action, this is the key lesson for you today", Batman's commanding voice echoed in the enclosed area of the batcave as he observed you attempting to roundhouse kick the boy in front of you. It was rather rashly executed with the hope of knocking him down which, for obvious reasons, only ended up with your leg connecting with nothing but thin air.

'Damn he is fast when he actually tries.'

"Easy for you to say Old Man! You aren't the one dancing with Mister Duckboy, the teen wonder over here!", you exclaimed, panting as your chest heaved from the exertion.

"Duckboy?!", Tim looked near scandalized as you grinned in return, stealing a glance towards the giggling crowd gathered near the stairs.

Everyone was already in the cave, it was a rare occurrence, it happened only when the issues of upmost importance were being discussed. Today was one of those days; The planning of Alfred Pennyworth's surprise birthday party.

However things usually went a lot less violent, this day every year. The sparring session this year was the result of you messing up, real bad while on patrol last night and since you were around the same age as Tim, he was found to be the most appropriate partner for it. The only drawback was that he had a staff in his hands while your weapons were confiscated, because in Bruce's words 'you rely on them too much'. You were already tired and Tim had a huge advantage over you, if you wanted to win this match you had to be quick and efficient at the same time.

Distracting Tim by your comment allowed you to have an opening, gathering all your strength you went in for a forward strike. Unfortunately he was more than ready to take you on, he crouched down, narrowly missing your punch then proceeded to swipe your legs off of the ground with his bo staff making you fall butt first on the floor.

"Congratulations you've managed to hurt both my ass and my ego, Timbers", You said laying back on the ground, hands and legs spread out and instead of helping you up, Tim joined you on the floor sitting next to you. You gave him a look that was equivalent to 'next time I get the chance, I am going to push you off a roof'.

"Your skills need improvement", Bruce said in his monotonous tone as you grunted knowing that a full ass lecture was gonna follow, but before he could get another word out, Jason chimed in with a statement no one ever expected to hear from him,"You know (Y/N), he's not wrong in fact I think the old man's actually got a point."

Jaws dropped to floor, Tim looked like he just saw a ghost, Dick who was standing near Barbara pinched himself to see whether he was dreaming or not, Damian snapped his neck up from where he was sharpening his katana, even Titus and Ace perked their heads up at the sudden silence that settled over the place. Barbara, Cass, Duke and Steph looked equally shocked.

"Before you all get any ideas, what I'm trying to say is you better pay attention because B over here won't be able to save your ass, 'cause if you slack off the next thing you know you would be in a warehouse with a maniac, getting blown to bits", Jason looked at Bruce with accusing eyes.

'And here I thought he was finally going to say something sensible', you thought to yourself as he continued,

"Take it from someone who has had that experience, you guys remember right? The fact that I--"

"Died, we know!!", everyone groaned at the same time and Bruce looked like he had to physically restrain himself from faceplaming.

"Okay! Guys how about we go ahead and do the thing we all actually came here to do instead of... whatever this conversation was", you suggested, getting up and patting the dust off your clothes.

"Well then someone has got to ask the important question here", Barbara looked around as she worded her sentence,"who is going to be the one to keep Alfred busy while we get everything ready?"

Once again the cave went silent. For a whole bunch of detectives, you all were very, very scared of Alfred, including Bruce even though he will never admit it, lying to The old-butler-cum-grandpa and making random excuses for the whole 3 hours was a thought dreadful enough to make all of you exchange petrified glances at each other hoping someone would step forward to do the job.

"I'll do it", dick raised his hand.

"NO!", everyone snapped and Dick's head tilted with a pout.

"You are good at doing a lot of stuff boy wonder, hiding things from Alfred isn't one of them", Barbara comforted Dick as Damian stepped up next.

"*tt* Since none of you imbeciles have the courage or the ability to do it. I shall be the one to handle Pennyworth. Gordon, Cain and Titus, I will require your assistance", Damian spoke or rather commanded as he went up the stairs, followed by the group he chose.

"Don't mess this up for us, you gremlin!"

"Tim!", you lightly jabbed him in the side with your elbow.

"Ow! What?"

"Be nice", you narrowed your eyes and he understood you were being serious.

"Fine I'll try, but don't blame me if he starts something", Tim shrugged carelessly. You shook your head and let out an audible sigh as you followed everyone else up towards the manor.

•°•°

"That's it Dick just a little to the right...No the other right...No! Not there you goofus! Just...Just get down from the chandelier before it comes crashing down on the rest of us and For God's Sake let Duke handle the ribbons before you somehow strangle yourself with them", you eyed him worriedly.

"Oh come (Y/N) it'll be fine!", the cheerfulness in his voice made you cock an eyebrow at him from below. Duke slid in beside you.

"10 bucks says he will somehow fall within the next hour"

"Oh Duke you should know better, 20 says he'll fall within 30 minutes", you turned towards him with an evil smile.

"What are you both talking about down there?"

"NOTHING!", you both said in unison on which Dick gave you a confused look.

"Oh Hey look Steph needs my help with the cake so, see ya!", you quickly moved to the other side of the room checking in with Stephanie and Tim. She gave you a thumbs up to signal that everything was going according to plan and the place was almost ready. Everyone was laughing, bickering, having fun, it was all very rare and seeing it, a warm feeling spread throughout you.

You smiled to yourself for a moment but it faltered and a frown pulled up at your lips, a sorrowful thought crossed your mind, something you always kept buried deep down. Looking around and seeing as nobody needed your help at the moment you decided to slip out of the chaos, taking slow steps towards the patio to clear your head.

•°•°

Leaning against the railing you thought back to how you left your house this morning telling your mother that you are going to stay at your friend's place for a while and how she just waved her hand at that, not even questioning you anymore. Your mind was completely elsewhere, despite the awe-inspiring dense forest right in front of you, your eyes were lost in space.

You registered, a bit too late, the presence of someone standing beside you.

"It is a nice view, but something tells me that's not what brought to out here, away from everyone else"

"Careful there Brucie or people might think that you are actually capable of some emotions which happen include caring for people", you retorted back at him. It was always a sort of defense mechanism for you, whenever you felt exposed you countered it with snarky remark.

You closed your eyes hoping that Bruce would just walk away. But he didn't. He stayed there.

Bruce leaned on the railing beside you and waited. You took a deep breath, contemplating you next move carefully.

"...Look It's really silly so can we drop it?", you whispered wondering why in the world would Bruce of all people, care about your feelings.

"Talk to me (Y/N). I can tell when something is bothering you, I may not be your father, but you are my family.", unlike usual, his voice was gentle and genuine when he spoke to you.

"I am really not a fan of surprise birthdays", you stated, starting off vaguely.

"And why is that?"

"Because I...It's silly but this one time I spent a whole week working on a birthday gift for my mom, it was like a craft pop up box which had multiple photos of us together, I made that from scratch! everything in it I made that, I worked hard for it, I did it out of love but when I gave her that surprise gift you know what she said Bruce! She said that I wasted my time that she would've been much happier if I had focused on my studies, she never even once said that she liked it and I--", you looked at him with tears brimming in your eyes, threatening to spill.

"I don't know Bruce, it-it just makes me feel sad you know? every little thing reminds me that my mother doesn’t seem to love me anymore. There is this constant thought in my mind that no one cares about me, about what I do for them and I don’t know what to do with a thought like that."

"That's not true, look around you kiddo, you are surrounded by people who would do anything for you, who love you from the bottom of their hearts", Bruce finally looked at you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"That's the thing! I am not an orphan!", you blurted out and Bruce looked more confused than ever.

"I'm aware"

"No! No you are not. I am not one of those kids you picked up from somewhere, I don't live here, Like I am sure you people aren't even sane, hell! you all make up the most dysfunctional family I have ever seen! I don’t belong here, you people have no reason to care about", Bruce gave you a sideways look, slightly chuckling at your sudden description of the people in the manor.

"But I still love everyone, my mom, you, every dumbass inside the manor right now, no matter much pain they cause me and I don't get why", this time when he looked at you, you didn't look like the vigilante who sucker punched The Riddler in the face last night, you looked like a scared little kid who is lost.

Bruce stood up straight and wrapped you in a hug. Something you never expected to happen in a million years. The shocked settled in after a bit and you wrapped your hands around him, burying your face in his chest.

"The people we love are still people at the end of the day. They act out, and sometimes they let us down, hurt us even, but that doesn't mean we stop loving them. For every bad memory, there will always be a good one that will get you through it. I promise you that (Y/N)", Bruce pulled away and gave you a warm smile. You couldn't help but smile back, your face matching his.

"Okay who are you and what have you done with Bruce Wayne? because I don't recognize this man who is full of emotions and on top of that, is giving free hugs right now", you broke into a grin, making Bruce's face go back to the stoic version.

"If you tell anyone, I will deny it"

"Sure you will"

Suddenly a clattering sound came from the hall, alerting you both. This, however, was followed by a 'I'm okay!' By the one Dick Grayson, which in turn was followed by Duke's 'Oh no!'

"Any idea what that was about?", Bruce inquired raising an eyebrow as you burst out laughing.

"That, you big softie, was the sound of me getting my 20 dollars, now let's get back before they destroy everything."

•°•°

You and Bruce entered back into the hall, everyone was gathered around waiting for Damian and his group to signal the beloved butler's arrival. You stood next to Tim as Jason moved towards the switches to turn off the lights.

"Okay I'll bite why are you covered in frosting before the party even started?"

"Steph", Tim replied, too tired to elaborate, leaving you giggling.

Barbara, Cass and Damian rushed through the door, looking close to terrified, with Titus tagging along.

"He is here, HIDE!", Damian said quickly closing the doors.

After a few moments, the door creaked open and Alfred's voice came through, "Master Damian, you and I will have words for what you did to-- Oh my", he was stuck to his position at the door, too shocked to say anything more after looking at the decorations and bunch gathered around an enormous cake.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALFRED!!", you all exclaimed with extreme excitement.

As the party went on you noticed that there was, in fact, a broken chandelier broomed to the side, later on there were a few not-at-all-safe stunts performed by the boys, some really bad puns made by Dick, all sorts of shenanigans by the others and cake, lots of cake. You looked around, everyone was busy doing something but now you knew Bruce was right:

You have one hell of a family, original, found or otherwise. And you love them all no matter what.

°•°•°•°•

Tags: @thesesickfics-justmakemesick

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popes-jj · 3 years ago

Text

Paradise on Earth - Pogues x Routledge!OC PART 2

Summary: The twins have a meeting.

Pairings: Pogues x OC + some JJ x OC, (rafe x oc later)

Warnings: swearing and drugs? Some mentions of sexual activity. I think that's it

Part 1

MASTERLIST

Cassie woke up to the sound of John B falling out of bed. She groaned as she lifted her head off the comfort of her soft pillow. She stood up and pulled on the first pieces of clothing she found slung over a chair in the corner of her room. She opened her bedroom door and took a step out, getting nice view of JJ grinding up on some girl she didn't fully recognise, John B walked out and saw Cassie, he poked his head around and chuckled at the sight.

"Hey! C'mon, man, get out of here!" JJ threw something at the door, John B closed it and laughed.

He faced Cassie with a big smile upon his face. "Don't worry, Cass, one day you'll get laid too."

"Ugh, shut up, Bird." She taunted. "I've been laid plenty of times for my satisfaction, thank you!" She pushed his shoulder and walked into the kitchen. "Hungry?" She asked the room. It wasn't really a question she expected to be answered, she always made breakfast for the Pogues in the morning. Kiara was laying down on the pull out in the living room and put her thumb up in response, John B stopped to look at a photo of their dad with his kids, the two Routledge twins. Pope was asleep outside on a bench, feeling the hot Outer Banks heat.

"Oh, day drinking, John B? How classy." Cassie teased as her brother grabbed a cold bottle of beer from the fridge.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, eggs?" He asked, as he took off the cap. Cassie hummed in response as she got to her usual work of making a pogue-style breakfast. It's not like she minded, she enjoyed cooking, it was one of her only hobbies, a passion more so than anything. Kiara had saving the environment, Pope had his passion for wanting to be a Coroner, JJ had drugs and drink and well.. John B had surfing and the idea that their father was still alive somewhere.

She liked that they were all unique but were ever so close.

The door to their fathers room opened, revealing a happy JJ and a slightly embarrassed girl. The girl stood behind JJ as he walked up to Cassie in the kitchen. "Morning, Gorgeous, Eggs? Nice." The nickname JJ gave the Routledge girl wasn't anything new, he did this almost every day, at first it was a joke but after a while it had gotten to the point where it was habit for JJ to call Cassie anything but her name most of the time.

"Eggs." She confirmed, focusing on her cooking.

"I like scrambled if possible?" JJ's girl spoke up.

Cassie looked up at her with no expression and turned her eyes to JJ. He swiftly turned his body around to face his one-night stand.

"Sweetheart.. this was good. I'll see you around?" He put on a soft smile, trying not to seem like a completely asshole. The girl took the hint and left, not without slamming the door behind her.

"Jesus, was there a need for that." Kiara complained from the pull out. JJ mouthed sorry to the girls before wandering outside to talk to the boys.

"Bacon?" Kiara asked as she walked up and sat herself next to the counter.

"Of course. It's like you don't know me!" Cassie faked being hurt.

John B walked back into the house after a while with the two other boys, Cassie finished up served them each a plate.

"Meeting today?" Pope asked, eyeing up the calendar on the wall. Cassie and John B groaned.

"They'll want us to split up, so you know the drill, if anyone asks?" John B looked at the group.

"Yes, we say your uncle is here. John B, bro, we know. Chill." JJ didn't look up from his plate as he spoke, drinking down a beer.

__________________

Cassie and John B sat in the DCFS office as the social worker sat behind her desk.

"John, Cassandra. It has come to our attention that you two are unemancipated minors living on your own.."

"What? No. No. No. No." John B laughed.

"nope." Cassie looked back and forth between the two.

"nope." John B copied.

"I need honesty to help you two." The social worker was unamused by the Routledge twins sat in front of her. "That's what we want, right?"

"Yeah." The twins agreed in unison.

"We are being honest." John B smiled.

"Okay, then when is the last time you two spoke to your uncle?" She asked as she pulled out a book and began to write.

"Uh.." John B checked his watch.

Cassie leaned over and had a look. "Yep, about 34 minutes ago." The two smiled at the social worker.

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"Two hours and.. 43 minutes ago?" John B shrugged.

The social worker looked up and stopped writing.

"We're gonna come out there tomorrow and talk to your uncle. If he's not there we are going to more forward with foster care."

The smiles disappeared from the twins faces and they looked at each other. "We assure you both, we're gonna find you two safe and loving homes."

"Homes?" John B sat up. "No, home."

"John, the possibility to finding a home that will take two teenagers is hard."

"I don't care." John B began to raise his voice, Cassie sat there as she began to feel sick.

"John, stop." Cassie spoke softly and placed her hand on his arm, pushing him back in his seat.

"You two may leave." The social worker didn't look up at the twins again, she just kept writing.

The two left the building and headed towards The Twinkie.

"FUCK!"

"Bird. Stop."

"Separate us?! Fuck!"

Cassie sighed and got into the van, John B followed, slamming the door behind him. "I won't let it happen."

"They're gonna find out, John. Okay, so what's the plan?"

"What's she gonna do? Nothing. We don't do anything. Stand out ground, y'know?"

Cassie rolled her eyes, knowing her brother would come up with some stupid plan on the pot in the morning and it will backfire horribly.

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hellogoodbye14 · 4 years ago

Text

There was a demand of more mama Feyre and Nyx moments, so here you go! Entire scene was inspired by a scene in “Embers” by Suzanne Wright.

Cuffed who now?

Feyre had spent a few hours with Nyx- bathing him, dressing him, and then feeding him a slightly early lunch … after which she needed to change him again, since he’d gotten puree all over himself.

Shortly after that, Cassian and Azriel arrived, just as she’d arranged.

In the living room, Cassian took Nyx in his arms. “Wipe that anxiety off your face, he’ll be fine here with me.”

She gave a smile. “I won’t be gone long.” She pressed a long, noisy kiss to Nyx’s cheek and then waved. “Bye. Be good for Uncle Cass.” He didn’t wave back. His little face scrunched up in a way that made Azriel chuckle.

Feyre turned and followed Azriel out of the room, down the hallway, and—

Something yanked her wrist, making her stumble backwards so fast she lost her footing. Landing awkwardly on her ass on the hallway floor, she hissed.

Azriel blinked down at her. “Damn, you okay?”

“No, I’m not,” she clipped, scrambling to stand up. She spun, scanning the hallway, her heart pounding. Surely no one had managed to get inside. Not with the amount of security measures in place. “Something just grabbed me.”

“Grabbed you?” echoed Azriel, muscles bunching.

At that moment, Cassian came striding toward them with Nyx still in his arms. “What’s the hold up? And why are you rubbing your butt?”

“What’s that?” asked Azriel.

Her head whipped to face him. “What? What do you see?” He was looking at her wrist.

Gently, Azriel lifted her hand to study it. “What is that?”

“What’s what?” Because she didn’t see anything. But then he angled her hand a certain way so that the sunlight shone right on it … and she frowned. “What is that?” It looked like a translucent string was wrapped around her wrist. She touched it, half-expecting not to feel anything. But it was like she’d skimmed her fingertip over metal. “No, seriously, what is that?”

Azriel released her and stepped back. “Try leaving.”

Moving more slowly this time, she stepped outside. No problem.

And then she was pulled backwards again. No, not pulled, she realized. It was more like she was straining against a leash.

Stomping back into the foyer, she shut the front door. “Is this supposed to be a cuff or something?”

Rubbing his jaw, Azriel replied, “I think so.”

Cassian stepped forward to get a good look at her wrist. “The question is … what are you cuffed to?”

“Or who are you cuffed to?” Azriel made a speculative noise and then turned to Nyx, who was chewing on his thumb while studying the pretty, freshly cut flowers courtesy of Elain on the table. “Let’s take a look at those wrists, little man.”

Feyre snickered. “You can’t think he did it, Azriel, he’s just a—oh, holy Cauldron.” She felt the blood drain from her face. On his little wrist was a thin cuff identical to hers. Holding his chubby hand, she touched the cuff. Cold metal. “Nyx,” she drawled, pointing at her own cuff. “Take it off.” He didn’t; he tried reaching for her hair instead. She gave him her stern, “I mean business” look, and he mimicked her perfectly.

she pursed her lips. “So the cuffs don’t have any links?”

“No,” Azriel replied. “I’d say the only thing linking them is power.”

“Meaning they’re psychic constructs.” Feyre shook her head at Nyx, but he was too busy twisting Cassians nose to even notice her look of reprimand.

“I don’t think he meant to shackle you to him,” said Cassian, eyes dancing with humor. “I think he just doesn’t want you to leave him. Couple that with all the power that lives in him and, well, this was the result.”

Thrusting her hand into her hair, Feyre blew out a breath.

Rhys, our son has cuffed me to him. And no, I’m not kidding.

Cuffed how?

I don’t know. But we’re both wearing thin, barely visible cuffs that feel like metal. I can’t move far from Nyx without being yanked back toward him.

She had the impression of pure male amusement and even a hint of pride.

Apparently, he doesn’t want to be left behind

Her lips thinned. How can you find this amusing?

If our positions were reversed, you’d be laughing your pretty little ass off.

Yeah, okay, she would.

#acosf #acotar #acowar #acomaf #feysand #rhysand #feyre and rhysand #feyre archeron #cassian #high lord rhysand #high lady feyre #azriel #baby nyx #nyx #nyx acotar

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starkravinghazelnoots · 4 years ago

Text

It shouldn’t have been a big deal to Sam that Bucky was taller than him. In fact, it wasn’t a big deal to Sam, no matter what Sarah insisted.

“There is only one thing you men are more sensitive about than your height,” Sarah had teased with a knowing smirk, “and that would be y’all’s foot size.”

Sam had wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Please don’t ever speak to me again.”

“You are the one living under my roof, Samuel.”

Unfortunately, his sister had been right about that, too.

Except no, no, it didn’t matter that Bucky was taller than Sam! The difference was a measly two inches, so small it could hardly even be called a ‘difference’ with total seriousness. And Bucky was yet to boast of this slight advantage he had in height, either, thus reinforcing the fact that it really and truly did not at all matter to Sam that Bucky was the teensiest bit taller than him. Sure, maybe sometimes Sam wanted to be the one who leaned down into a tender kiss, but that wish was not so strong as to be the only thing ever on his mind.

“If that’s the case, why can’t you stop talking my ear off about it?”

Sam frowned at his sister’s irritated tone, though her dramatic eye roll that followed told him Sarah’s exasperation was only half-genuine. “Well, since you’re always telling the boys you know everything, I figured you’d be the best person to ask for adv—”

“Oh, you hush.” Sarah swatted his arm with the kitchen towel. “I don’t tell them I know everything. I just remind them that if they have questions, they should come to me before you or Bucky.”

Yeah, Sam couldn’t blame her for that one. Bucky’s knowledge was antiquated at best and Sam no longer bothered to deny how his constant to and fro across the country meant he was oftentimes out the loop. “Okay, well, now I’m the one coming to you with a question. So what should I do? Buy a pair of heels?” He was pretty sure he’d hate wearing them, but Bucky’s reaction would inevitably be hilarious. Sam was tempted.

“Hell no, do not waste your paycheck on that.” Sarah sighed as she hung the beige towel up beside the sink. “Look, bro. If you’re coming to me like AJ and Cass do with a question about people, I’m gonna give you the same answer I always give them. If you got a problem with someone…” She gave him a flat look that immediately clued Sam in to the fact that he was going to hate her advice. “Talk. It. Out.”

Sam groaned, leaning back against the wooden cabinets of the kitchen. “You already know Bucky’s the quiet and condescending type.”

“Who gives a shit? Clearly you’re the one with a problem here, not your beau.”

Touché.

“Also, you chose to date him.”

“Alright, alright,” Sam grumbled. “You’ve made your point.”

“Thank you. Now go put all your counselor skills to use and have a talk with your man,” Sarah concluded with a shooing gesture. “Oh, also—wake up the boys for me, will you? They’re gonna be late for school if they don’t get moving.”

Sam gave her a mock salute, grinning as Sarah rolled her eyes a second time before turning back towards the eggs she was scrambling on the stove. Knowing such a reaction meant their conversation was over, Sam resigned himself to maybe—maybe—talking to Bucky about his… see, he didn’t even know what to call the issue. His height complex? God no, that sounded horrible.

Well, first things first—he needed to wake up the boys.

As Sam headed towards the stairs, he passed a sleepy Bucky emerging from the small half bath, his normal hand covering his mouth as he yawned while the vibranium one scratched his stomach. Sam did his best to ignore the way the latter action made the hem of Bucky’s shirt ride up a fraction of an inch.

“Morning,” he said, earning a tired nod from Bucky in response as he reached the foot of the stairs, pausing after taking only a few steps up. “Sleep well?”

Bucky nodded again, a content smile tugging at his lips. “Through the whole night.”

Sam’s chest swelled with pride at the revelation. It had now been—what, a week and a half of restful nights for Bucky? Surely he was verging on a new record. “Hell yeah, man. That’s great.”

Bucky’s little smile became a pleased smirk. “I still think I’d sleep even better in your room—”

Sam laughed. “Sorry, Buck. Not with kids in the house.” He glanced at the clock across the hall before taking another step up the stairs. “Speaking of the boys, I need to wake them up before Sarah has my head.”

“Oh, wait. I’ll come with you.”

Sam pretended his heart didn’t flutter at the near-insufferable domesticity of the mental image that followed, one of Bucky gently shaking his nephews’ shoulders to get them out of bed. Christ. Sam was so whipped.

When Bucky reached the foot of the stairwell, Sam couldn’t help but notice the scattered fluffy tufts his partner’s hair had developed into throughout the night. Unfairly-attractive bed head, as it were. This casual observation was followed by a more intense thought that hit Sam like a sledgehammer.

He could see the top of Bucky’s head. Because, on the stairs, he was taller than Bucky.

Sam didn’t consider himself to be an impulsive person—no matter what Bucky said—but at that moment, he threw forethought to the wind. Bucky only had his feet on the first and second steps when Sam leaned down to cup his partner’s face with both hands and crash their lips together in a kiss that made fireworks explode in Sam’s stomach. Bucky’s morning breath wasn’t even too bad—rinsed his mouth, maybe?—and Sam soon found himself lost in the warmth of Bucky’s lips on his and the firm grip Bucky now had on his hips. Although he sorely regretted the eventual need to pull away for air, Sam had to admit that the dazed, blissful expression on Bucky’s face almost made breaking the kiss worth it.

God. Fuck. That settled it. If this was what it was like to kiss Bucky Barnes from above, Sam was going to suck it up and lay everything out to Bucky. Sarah would tease him endlessly, as sisters were wont to do, but damn.

It’d be so worth it.

“What was that for?” Bucky finally murmured, running a hand up and down Sam’s side.

Sam smiled as he traced Bucky’s bottom lip with his thumb. Ha. “Ask me later. We gotta wake up the boys.”

Bucky nodded. He made absolutely no move to continue up the stairs. “Kiss me again, first?”

Well, who was Sam to refuse such a polite request?

#sarah: making out on my stairwell is NOT waking up the boys samuel #jsdsjks this is the first of my sambucky kiss prompt ficlets for pride. haven't decided if i'll put it on ao3 or not #sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sarah wilson #tfatws #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #mcu fanfic #sambucky fic #my writing

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jinx-jade · 4 years ago

Text

A little bird and his Prey Chapter 4

Babs let out a tired groan, letting her head fall into her hands.

The bat kids had been combing these camera recordings for hours with no luck of finding any evidence or leads to who could have done it.

“Got anything?” Barbara questioned, exhaustion dripping from her voice.

“Nothing useful,” Damian said with an annoyed growl. Titus lets out a whine for attention to try and distract his human, earning him a lazy scratch behind his ear.

“Nothing,” Tim replied, setting down his laptop in favor of picking up his thermos of what they could only assume was a death brew mix of caffeine.

“Nope. Nothing suspicious here either.” Jason claimed with a groan, collapsing from his upright seated position, flopping onto his back.

“Here,” Cass claimed, rewatching the security footage once more to double-check her findings before hooking her laptop up to the tv.

“Watch,” Cass instructed, pointing to the screen.

The security feed began playing and they watched the explosion.

A few minutes later they saw themselves and the cops appear, heading straight to the scene.

Except for one of them.

Crow strayed from their path to push a civilian out of the way of falling debris.

“Nice save,” Jason called out to his younger brother before looking at his sister with a silent question.

Cass simply shook her head before pointing at the woman Damian had saved.

They watched as the civilian took what appeared to be a calming breath before beginning to move.

She ended up leaving the range of the camera, Cass switching feeds to follow her.

The bluenette casually walked into an alleyway, disappearing into the shadows.

That had the bat kids’ attention.

She didn’t just disappear from view.

She was gone.

No longer in the alleyway.

A dead-end alleyway no less.

There was no way out of the alley except for the way she entered and scaled the buildings to travel by rooftop.

None of which she did.

Cass pulled up the other feeds for all possible angles and views of the alleyway.

Nothing.

She was just gone.

“Well. Shit.” Jason claimed.

“She could just be a magic user?” Barbara tried, even though she didn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth.

“It could be Menagerie.” Tim guesses with a yawn, he really should take a nap since he has a back-to-back meeting later.

“Replacement, get some sleep. Your theories are getting a bit…” Jason stopped mid-sentence.

“Fuck. That makes sense.” Jason swore as he took out his wallet, handing Cass fifty dollars.

“You couldn’t have gone another week before making outlandish theories make sense,” Jason grumbled under his breath

The other bats looked at them in questioning.

“Win bet. Thanks, little brother.” Cass said, ruffling Tim’s hair.

“O… kay?” Tim questions, scrunching his brows in confusion.

“Back on topic please,” Babs said with an exasperated tone of voice.

“Oh. Right. Ugh... Menagerie was already in Gotham when the bombings had started. The bombings are connected to the stolen heirlooms. Menagerie is already a known thief that has a habit of stealing from the upper class and their businesses.” Tim explains. “Plus Menagerie is the only magic, meta, thing, person, that can turn into or disappear into, thin air.”

The bat kids weren't sure if they liked the fact that the theory made sense or hated the fact that the theory makes sense.

If Tim was right, and there is a high chance that he is, then they now have more than a thief on their hands, they have a bombing terrorist.

Barbara ran the woman through facial recognition, and to her surprise, she got a match.

"Uhm… guys?" Barbara says, gather the other bats' attention.

"Did you figure out who she is?" Jason questioned.

"Uhm. Yeah. I got a match from facial recognition. Two matches actually." Barbara informs them.

"So she has fake identification papers?" Damian states more than asks.

"Yeah," Barbara answers a bit unsure.

"Well?" Damian asks, waiting semi impatiently, for the names.

"The first one is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, age 24," Barbara informed them.

The bats raise a brow at her hesitated to read her file.

"Her other ID?" Tim questioned.

"Marinette Constantine, age 24." Barbar read off her other identification papers.

The room fell silent.

"Constantine?" Cass questioned, receiving a nod from Barbara.

"Yup, with John Constantine listed as her father. Wait. What?" Barbara furrowed her brows in confusion as she started typing rapidly.

"Something wrong? Besides the drunk mage apparently having a kid and not telling anyone." Jason questioned.

"Uhm. Alfred is her godfather?" Barbara informs them.

There was a defining silence that fell over the room before it changes into loud shouting.

“What are you guys yelling about?” Dick questioned as he entered the room.

“We thought we found out who Menagerie cause someone with the same magic as she was caught on camera near the bombing. We ran facial recognition on her and it turns out that John Constantine has a kid, and that kid is Alfred��s godfather.” Barbara explained with a defeated sigh.

“Wait a minute! Constantine, has a kid, and Alfred is their godfather?” Dick questioned confused.

Cass gave him a thumbs up, causing Dick to let out a sigh.

“So in other news, your promising suspect is one of ours or the Justice League’s at least, which knocks her off of the suspect list. We should definitely question Alfred and Constantine later but besides that, we’re still at square one.” Dick summarized.

Each of the bats gave their annoyed agreement at Dick’s summary but agreed that it was correct nonetheless.

“Welp, It’s your call on what to do next, Little d’ since this is your case,” Dick said as he took a seat on an armrest.

“Tch. We should call a private meeting with Constantine, if we didn’t already know about his kid then it’s probably for a reason and he might not want that information to be found out by league members.” Damian told them what he thought they should do while petting Titus.

“Sounds good. What about Alfred?” Tim asked.

“We can ask about Constantine’s kid but Alfred is more likely to direct up to Constantine if we want any real answers.” Damian reasoned, receiving agreements from his siblings.

“Looks like we have our game plan. If all goes well maybe Miss….. Marinette Constantine will help us with our Menagerie problem.” Dick claimed, leaning over Barbara’s shoulder so he could read the, admittedly small, file on Constantine’s kid.

As today’s plans were rattled off, Damian realized that today was going to be a long day with far too many meetings, and he wasn’t looking forward to it.

tag list: @henie04 @only-trust-fictional-characters @lolieg @Moon5608 @animegirlweeb @asrainterstellar @toodaloo-kangaroo @mystery-5-5 @dontbenddontbreak @jayjayspixiepop @ilovefluffbutsmutisalsogreat

#maribat

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darklove9314-blog · 3 years ago

Text

True North: A Nessian Fanfic (NSFW)

Day 24 of Nessian month, Prompt: Pirate AU.

Nesta looked beyond to the horizon listening to the waves crash around the ship. She had to admit at first she had been hesitant to go out to see. But someone deep down inside her, the want for excitement and adventure always yearned.

It was that precise feeling that had her say yes to this stranger. To the captain of this ship as she whipped around looking at Cassian. The man that had unknowingly saved her life in more ways than he could tell.

He gave her one of his dazzling smiles, sending a wave at her. Her heart fluttered as she waved back, turning away from him before he could see the blush that now stained her cheeks. He was quite handsome. Not that they had gone further than casual conversations.

He was now talking with Azriel, his fellow shipmate and seccond in command about the mission later that week. Nesta’s heart raced at the thought but not in a bad way.

One reason she was still on the ship was because of her past history. The beautiful thief, They had called her. Her skills had proven quite useful to Cassian during her first mission with them.

She had held up the ruby necklace, dangling it in front of Cassian like treasure in a trove. He had smiled approvingly at her taking the necklace from her fingers.

“Turn around.“ He had said to her, She followed his instructions.

He swept her hair to the side making her breath catch at the touch. She felt the cold metal at her skin, the ruby dipping inbetween the her breast as Cassian fastened the clasp leaving the necklace around her neck.

“Now it is yours.“ He whispered in her ear taking her aback. She hadn’t expected this.

“But Captain Cass-“

“You took the necklace therefore it is yours.“ Cassian interrupted.

Nesta turned around. Her blue-grey eyes gazing at his hazel ones catching the hints of green in them this close as the sun hit them just right.

His hold still held firm. Her breast were now pressed against his muscled torso. She felt like she couldn’t breath when he was this close.

“They were right, you know?”

Nesta’s eyebrows shot up in confusion as he leaned towards her touching the necklace against her exposed flesh.

“About what?” She dared to ask concentrating on what that one hand was doing to her, Wishing that his hand would dip lower and explore other parts of her body underneath her bodice.

He leaned in towards her, his scent smelling of the ocean intoxicating her. His lips met the shell of her ear.

“You are a beautiful thief.” He whispered. Her breath hitched before he pulled away leaving her breathless as her hands went to the necklace wishing that it was his hands that were still on it.

Sighing, Nesta turned away from the ocean and gasped as Cassian popped up behind her.

“You scared me.“ Nesta exclaimed hitting his shoulder lightly as a laugh escaped him.

“I did call your name, but you seemed lost in thought.“ He stated leaning against the ship.

“You have several names for me.” She retorted earning a grin from him. “Which one did you call out?”

“Does it matter?” He asked her tilting his head to the side and stepping closer.

“Well it depends. If you called me Nes, you know how much that annoys me.”

Another playful grin. “Which is probabaly why I use it. Can’t have the crew thinking I go to easy on you. “ He told her. The corners of her mouth turnt into a smile.

“And the sweetheart?”

Cassian laughed. “Term of affection.“

She stepped closer, “Do you have terms of affection for all your crew members?” She asked, his head dipped down.

“Only the pretty ones.” He smiled gesturing his head towards Azriel. “You and Azzie should know this best.“

A laugh escaped her. She bit down on her lip before Cassian ran his thumb over it.

“You shouldn’t bite your lip my beautiful thief. What if you bite too hard and your lip starts to bleed?”

Nesta opened her mouth to form a reply as Azriel shouted Cassian‘s name causing him to look up as Azriel waved him over. Cassian sighed.

“Duty calls. Until next time my beautiful thief.“ He told her, knuckles brushing her cheek before he turned away and headed towards Azriel once more.

“Are you two ever going to do it?” A voice asked making Nesta jerk as she spun around to see Gwyn standing there.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Nesta replied looking back out to the sea. as her friend took Cassian’s place. Her other friend Emerie coming to her side.

“Please Emerie and I could see the sexual tension betwesn you from the deck of the ship. It’s been two years Nesta. When are you going to take him to your bunk?”

“When fantasies become reality.” Nesta told her turning around and leaning against the ship. “Theres nothing going on between me and the captain.“

“Now who’s living in a fantasy.“ Emerie said making Gwyn laugh.

“You two are exhausting at times, You know that right?” Nesta told them. As they looped their arms around Nesta smiling at her.

“Why are you two looking at me like that?” Nesta asked.

“We’re going to get the captain to really notice you at Balthazar’s birthday tonight. It’s time to make this fantasy come true.“

“There’s no way in hell I’m wearing that.“ Nesta told Emerie as Gwyn undid the last of her braid leaving her hair down. For all the year Cassian had known her, she had never left her hair down.

Emerie looked down at the red dress looking at Nesta in question.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s red.“

“It’s crimson and it’ll match your necklace.“ Emerie replied gesturing to the necklace that laid between Nesta’s breast. “What’s your aversion to the color red anyway?”

“My mother always said it was a sinners color.“

Gwyn bit down on her lip to surpass her laugh.

”Says the beautiful thief.“ Emerie told her handing Nesta the dress.

“Touche.” Nesta replied.

“Besides, if you catch the captain‘s eye. You’ll be doing plenty of sinning tonight.” Emerie told her.

“Do you think that I’ll lie with him tonight?” She asked. Suddenly her mouth felt dry.

“Only if you want to. Despite his reputation of bedding multiple females, I hear Captain Cassian is an extraordinary lover.“ Gwyn answered.

“You’ll have to let us know if that’s true or not.” Emerie told her as Nesta slipped on the dress. Gwyn assisting her with the straps as Emerie dug around to find some makeup.

After they were done, Nesta examined herself in the mirror finding it shocking that she looked the same yet completely different,

“There. You’re perfect, Now it’s time to capture the heart of the captain.“ Emerie stated as Nesta swallowed feeling a nervous pit in her stomach.

The ship was merry with cheer and laughter as Gwyn, Emerie, and Nesta settled in. The other pirates had managed to pull out the good rum.

Azriel came up to Gwyn handing her a mug of it as he asked her to dance. Her smile become brighter than the sun as she slipped her hand in his, Nesta waving her off.

Nesta‘s eyes searched for Cassian, who seemed to be no where in sight. A frown formed on her face. The lace to the bodice itching her sweating breast. It was same tonight.

“I’m going to try to go ge to us some of that rum.” Emerie stated standing up and leaving Nesta alone.

She sighed tilting her head up to the night sky Illuminating her golden brown hair with the moonlight.

“I see you saved me a seat.“ that dark delicious voice stated as Nesta‘s gaze fixated on Cassian. A flask in his hand, no doubt possessing better liquor than the one being served at this party.

“Perhaps I did,“ She told him cocking her head to the side gesturing towards the empty chair Emerie had abandoned.

Cassian sat down beside her, handing her the flask, She took it without hesitation, taking a sip of whatever was inside. The liquor warming her belly. She handed him back the flask.

“That’s definitely a liquor that will give you a nice buzz.“ She stated. Cassian smiled taking a sip from his own flask before pocketing it. Her eyebrows lifted.

“You’re not going to get sloshed with the other crew members?” She asked, he shrugged, his gaze sweeping up and down her body.

“Someone has to man the ship and keep them in line.“

”Sounds tedious.“ She stated leaning back. “Wouldn’t you rather be having fun?”

Cassian smirked, his gaze sweeping over her again, the look he was giving her was a little less subtle than before as want loomed in his features.

“There are other ways to have fun sweetheart.” He told her. Eyes flickering to the valley of her breast.

He leaned into her, Her heart pounding. that intoxicating scent of his engulfing her.

“Would you like to dance, Nes?” He breathed,

Usually the nickname would bother her. Usually she would scowl at the name. But with him being this close to her, the nickname seemed like one of the most beautiful names she had heard.

“By all means, captain, lead the way,“

A wicked, primal grin spread across Cassian‘s face before he stood up extending his hand out to Nesta. Nesta took his hand with ease, standing up as they made their way to the makeshift dance floor.

Cassian lifted her hand above her head, as she spun around laughing slightly before he pulled her close. Warn. He was so warm.

His chest pressed to the top of her breast, his calloused hand snaking around her waist as one of the sailors sang an off tuned melody.

They had danced in silence for a few moments before Cassian leaned into her.

“Did anyone tell you that you look ravishing tonight?” He asked.

Nesta lifted her chin meeting the desire in his gaze.

“You are the first that has told me that tonight.” Nesta confided in him, He moved closer to her. lining himself up with her body as she felt just how much she had affected him tonight. Her core throbbed with want. With the need for the captain to explore her body as if she was a map to one of his treasures.

“They must be drunker than I expected.” He told her. “They must be if no one has tried to take you to their cot tonight.“

Nesta‘s breath hitched. Be bold, She told herself. Her eyes met his letting him see the desire in them. Her gaze flickered to his lips.

“Perhaps who I wanted to bed me tonight wasn‘t here yet?” She told him. His grip tightened on her. His hand traveling up her back making her shudder in pleasure. His fingers gentle against her bare skin setting her body aflame.

His fingers wrapped around a strand of her hair twisting his finger around it.

“‘I’ve never seen you with your hair down before.” Cassian told her.

“It’s always a nuisance when it’s down.“ She told him. He had never been so bold with his touches before. He had always given her small touches and they barely lasted for a minute. but he wasn’t being shy about it anymore. Gods above help her.

“It looks beautiful,“ He told her, tucking some strands behind her ear. “But I think it would look better spread across my pillow.“

Her breath caught as Cassian leaned down m, his lips mere inches from her own.

“Come back to my cabin with me Nes. Let me pleasure that beautiful body of yours until your legs shake and the sun breaks the horizon.”

Nesta gazed at him, her cheeks flushed, her core throbbing as she felt the slickness build between her legs.

“Yes.” She agreed.

Cassian opened the door to his cabin as Nesta stepped in the room,looking around the tiny cabin where Cassian slept.

A map spread out across the table as Nesta’s fingers roamed over it. She felt Cassian come up behind her, his back pressing against hers feeling his hardness as his hands traveled down her shoulders.

He pressed a kiss to the side of her neck, tilting her head back against him. His lips continued the exploration of her neck, his hands going to the laces of her bodice before she spun towards him.

His gaze swept across her again. His hazel eyes smoldering with that hidden flame.

“I’m surprised you wore red tonight. I thought you thought red was for sinners.“ He said his fingers going back to her laces slowly in fastening them.

“I do, but-“ She leaned in to him pressing her heated core to his hardened length. “I felt like sinning with you tonight.”

A wicked smile crossed his face as he hoisted her up on the table, palming her breast, a moan escaping from her mouth.

“I promise you’ll feel like you’ve reached heaven after I’m done with you.“

Before she could say anything, he pressed his lips firmly to hers, her back hitting the table as he climbed atop her. his hands going back to her laces.

She threw her head back exposing her throat to him as he bit down on it. Claiming her in case anyone else questioned what had occurred in this cabin.

Nesta gasped, a cry of pleasure escaping from her, the laces of her bodice finally undone as Cassian pushed her corset to the side exposing her breast to him.

“Perhaps I’m the one who has reached heaven.“ He rasped. Nesta‘s breath heavy.

His eyes swept down the length of her body. Her skirts still covering her lower half. She wished he would touch her. Wished he would claim her body with his kisses, with his touch, with his cock.

“Have you ever laid with a man before, Nesta?” He asked. A fierce blush spread across her cheeks.

“Once before.“ She told him. “It- wasn’t that memorable.” she told him. She didn’t even remember his name. Had wanted to get the virginity thing over with.

Cassian nodded kneading her breast, his thumb circling around her nipple. it pebbling underneath his touch.

“Then let me make this a night you won’t soon forget, my beautiful thief.” Cassian breathed.

Nesta‘s chest heaved as Cassian slid to his knees lifting her skirts. She had expected him to take her skirt off to leave her naked before him, she was surprised when he went underneath her skirts covering himself with them.

She felt her underwear and tights beneath being taken off first. Her head hit the table softly, her breathing labored. She did not have much experience with sex but no one had ever done this to her before.

usually with sex a person could tell what their lover was about to do, but with him beneath her skirts, what he was going to do next was left up to her imagination.

After her tights, shoes and underwear were discarded. Nesta felt Cassian‘s lips press to her inner thigh, a surprised gasp coming from her.

Woth his strength, Cassian stood Nesta up. Nesta stood there as she heard his voice from beneath her skirts.

“Spread those beautiful legs of yours further sweetheart so I can ravish in your taste.”

Nesta whimpered as she spread her legs further for him. His lips pressed firmly to her knee first, butting it slightly making her gasp out in pleasure as his lips traveled upward leaving a trail of opened mouthed kisses up her thigh, Her legs threatening to give out on her before he made it to i between her legs. To the place where she yearned for that wicked tongue of his to be the most.

Instead of his tongue finding her, his fingers slid across her wetness. A chuckle escaping from him.

“You‘re wetter than the ocean, my beautiful thief.“ He growled. Nearly making Nesta collapse against him, “I can’t wait to have your perfect taste in my mouth. But first.“

He pulled away, she cried out in protest wanting nothing more than for him to remain there. He lifted her skirts once more, That undeniable fire in his eyes marking the look on his face.

“Don’t worry my heart, I’ll be back where I belong soon enough.“

He stood towering over her yanking down her skirts and lifting her face up to meet his, she was now fully naked before him.

“But I want you to watch me while I taste that beautiful sex of yours. don’t you dare take your eyes off me. I want you to know exactly whose mouth is bringing you such pleasure.”

Nesta glanced down noticing that her necklace was still on her as she went to unclasp it, Cassian stilled her hand.

“Leave it on.“ He told her, her eyebrows rose in question.

“I want you to be bare of everything except for the one thing that symbolizes that you are mine and always have been.”

Every thought emptied from Nesta‘s mind as her hands dropped from the necklace, the metal feeling cold underneath her flushed skin.

Cassian sank to his knees.

“Eyes on me sweetheart.” He instructed placing one of her feet on his shoulder to get better access as he returned to his hungry kisses. his hand pressed firmly to her ass, supporting her as his mouth found his mark.

At the first exploration of her wetness from his tongue, Nesta cried out, knees nearly buckling with how good it felt.

He opened her further for him, his tongue exploring places where no man had been before. Nesta threw her head back, a gasp of pleasure coming from her mouth, his tongue thrusted into her once before he pulled out.

the proof of her wetness on his lips as his eyes went to hers thrusting that talented tongue into her meeting her gaze, noting the look of pleasure on hers.

She watched that head of his devour that sweet taste of hers. He hoisted her into the table once more. She cried out in surprise as he looked up at her through lowered lashes, his silky strands brushing against her stomach.

His tongue went to the bundle of nerves between her legs, swirling it around her. His long fingers plunging into her as his own moan escaped his lips vibrating through her.

He pulled away, his fingers still pumping into her as she met his eyes.

“You feel so good against my fingers, my beautiful thief, I can only imagine the ecstasy I’ll feel when I finally plunge my cock into that glorious cunt of yours.“

”Don’t be a tease.” She challenged, “Sink that enormous cock of yours in me now.“

A low laugh escaped Cassian as his free hand traveled up the length of her punching her nipple causing her to gasp.

“I want you shattered before I give you that sort of relief sweetheart. I’ve yearned to take you back to my cabin for years now and I plan to take my time with you tonight. I plan to have you scream my name so loud that you wake every sailor around us with your pleasure. Let me show you how much I can make you feel Nesta.“

Nesta nodded as his mouth went back to her causing her to moan. Her hips undulated upwards, his hand pressing them firmly down.

“Casaian.“ She cried out, “I think I’m about to-“

“Come for me, my beautiful thief. let me taste your need for me.“

With that Nesta feel apart grinding his face against her, letting him devour every last drop of her until she writhed with the pleasure from his tongue, until she felt as if every inch of her had it’s fill of his tongue against her.

Her head pressed firmly to the table as CassIan climbed up on top of her pressing a kiss to her neck. every part of her body screaming for him to be inside her. To bring her pleasure once more.

“Gods.” He whispered against the bare skin of her throat. “You tasted even better than I had ever dreamed.”

“You dream of me?” She asked as his heated gaze met hers. Her release still on his lips as he pressed his swollen lips down to hers.

“I always dream about you.”

Nesta hadn’t know what came over her, but before he knew it, he was underneath her. His face registered surprise, but he didn’t protest as she sank down to her knees pulling down his pants as his cock sprung free. Lookin g more enormous than she had expected. She marveled at every inch of him. Of that glorious cock she had dreamed of multiple times.

“I dream about you too.” She told him, his hand going to her hair stroking it. “I dream about wrapping my lips around that glorious cock of yours taking every inch of you inside of it. Sometimes I even dream about you fucking my mouth, even to the point where i’m gagging on it.”

His hands tightened in her hair as her hand wrapped around his cock stroking him. Marveling at every glorious inch.

“I dream of it so much that sometimes in the middle of the night, I wake so desperate with the need for you that I think of you when my hands are between my legs. Imagine its you when I plunge my fingers so deep into myself that I cant stand it. But I doubt that’s not what you want to hear right now.”

Her mouth curved into the hint of a smile. “Right now I can sense that there’s something else you want me to be doing with my mouth.”

Cassian let out a breath before Nesta sank her mouth onto his cock causing him to cry out. She felt a surge of power in the sound and took him deeper. As deep as she dared, but it still wasn’t enough. It would never be enough until he every inch of his cock was in her mouth.

She relaxed her throat looking up at him with lowered lashes. A plea in her eyes. Understanding crossed his features, As his hand plunged into her hair and he thrusted up into her mouth hitting the back of her throat.

“What was that about gagging?” He growled. Shoving himself deeper. A wicked smirk crossing his face. “Oh now I remember.”

He thrusted up deeper into her mouth until his cock was fully in her mouth making her gag slightly. Her spit coating his cock making it easier to take him in her mouth as he fucked her with his cock.

He wrapped her hair around his hand using it as guidance as he thrusted into her over and over. She didn’t mind though. Loved the thought of him fucking her mouth until he came from the pleasure of it.

She flicked her tongue up causing him to growl out in pleasure.

“Now the real question is, do I want to come in this pretty mouth of yours or in that beautiful sex.”

She hadn’t know he was that close to release before he took his aching cock out of her mouth surprising her as he pulled her to her feet, throwing her over his shoulder as he laid her on his cot. Her body plunging deep into it.

Her wetness was slick against her as Cassian positioned her to her knees.

“This is the perfect position so you an feel every inch of me when I release inside you.”

Gods did she want that. as she felt Cassian line himself up at her entrance.

“Are you sure about this Nesta?” He asked.

“Yes Cassian. Please don’t me wait any longer.” She told him.

That was all the encouragement he needed as he plunged inside of her to the hilt, She cried out using her arms as support to keep her upright as Cassian retreated and plunged back into her.

“Fuck.” He growled out. “I’m not going to last long.”

“Then make it worth the time you have.” She told him.

His hands went back to her hair, using it to pull her back against him as he plunged into her with mighty powerful thrust. Noises that she didn't know she was capable of making flew from her mouth as he claimed every inch of her he could.

“Fuck. He growled out again as he bit down on her throat release barreling towards him as Nesta felt her own release coming on.

“Come with me Nesta.” He told her as she felt the first few splashes of his release deep inside of her.

She sobbed as her own release rocked through her, as his release shot deep in her, the warmth from that glorious seed of his going deep inside of her as he rode his release until he was spent and they both collapsed on from their pleasure.

His cum seeped down her legs as he pulled her close, breath heavy.

“That was-” He started.

“I know.” She breathed as his hand traveled to her necklace. to the rubied heart that was on it.

“You called me your heart.” She stated turning to meet his eyes as he pressed a kiss to her mouth.

“Do you not like the nickname? I thought it would be more fitting than my beautiful thief.”

Nesta smiled pressing her lips to his as his hands roamed her waist.

“I love it.” She whispered “But why my heart?”

He looked down to her, a look of fondness and something more lingering in his gaze.

“Because you are my true north, you are the heart of my ocean, the one who keeps me grounded and points me to my way home.”

Tears slipped from Nesta’s eyes before she said.

“And you are mine.” She claimed as her mouth went to his again and they revealed in the pleasure of each other until the sun met the horizon signaling the new day awaiting their next adventure.

#nesta archeron #nesta #cassian #nessian #nessianmonth #nessian smut

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enchantmentandshadows · 4 years ago

Text

Elriel Month | Day 31: You Are Cordially Invited

WORD COUNT: 2270

CONTENT WARNING: NONE

PLAYING ON AZRIEL’S SYMPHONIA : “I GET TO LOVE YOU” - RUELLE

PLAYING ON ELAIN’S SYMPHONIA : “STILL INTO YOU” - MEADOWLARK

NOTE: See Day 21: Dreamland if you’d like to see how Azriel saw his wedding to Elain before it happened.

Azriel pulled away, kissing her once and twice more before linking his pinky with hers. “Until the end of forever.”

Elain nodded, sealing it with another kiss. “Until the end of forever.”

“You ready for this?” Rhys asked, smiling from ear to ear as he straightened the collar of Azriel’s jacket.

“Of COURSE he’s ready, look at him! He looks like a fairytale prince!” Cass said, pinching Az’s cheek.

Azriel laughed. “Ready for the wedding? Yes, thanks to Nesta. Ready to spend the rest of my life with Elain? Absolutely.” He said his voice thick with emotion, looking down as tears filled his eyes. "Been waiting 500 years for her."

“Az…dammit…” Cassian said, wiping at his own eyes and hugging his brother, Rhysand hugging them both.

“This never has to leave this room.” Cassian said, sniffling.

Rhysand laughed. “Are you kidding? Crying wasn’t even a question, the bet was on which of us would cry first.” Rhysand said, wiping his own eyes.

Nesta straightened Elain’s sparkling veil with tears in her eyes. “You look so beautiful, El.”

“Oh Nesta, if you start, we all will.” Feyre warned, grabbing a handkerchief and handing it to her sister.

“You really do look beautiful, Elain.” Feyre agree, hugging her sister, and dabbing at her own eyes. “You’re so perfect together, perfect for one another.”

Elain hugged Feyre, beaming and holding her own tears in. “Thank you for helping me find him, for helping me find myself.” She said, taking both her sisters hands.

Nesta sniffled, pulling both of her sisters into her arms, letting her tears fall. The three sisters staying in each others arms until there was a soft knock at the door. “Is it time?” Elain asked.

“No, not yet, calm down.” Feyre laughed as she opened the door to reveal Lucien.

“I’m here to see the Bride if she has a moment.” Lucien said, looking every bit the heir of a High Lord.

Elain nodded. “Of course, come in.”

“We’ll see you again before its time.” Nesta assured Elain as she followed Feyre out.

Lucien walked in and Elain smiled up at him. Their relationship-their friendship had changed so much in such a short time. After avoiding each other for months over their own ill-fated bond, they bonded helping each other find and save the people they were truly meant to be with.

“Day suits you.” She said, smiling. Lucien nodded in appreciation.

“Thank you, Dusk suits you.” He said, adding. “It goes without saying, but, you deserve to be happy with someone of your choosing, Elain. I’m glad you found that happiness.”

“Thank you, Lucien. You deserve the same, and Vassa is very lucky to have you.” She said, not needing her Seer ability to notice how comfortable and happy Lucien and the mortal Queen were around one another.

“Thank you, Elain." He said, blushing slightly and not bothering to deny his coupling with Vassa. “Well, I’d better get to it, before Nesta comes back and drags me out of here. I didn't just come to pass on my congratulations, I came to give you something.” He said, pulling a small compass from his pocket and holding it out for her to take.

Elain felt the tears prick at her eyes almost immediately as she recognized it and took it into her shaking hand.

“Your father gave this to me when we started our journey back to Prythian, he asked me to give it to you today-on your wedding day, something old?” He added, slightly confused.

Elain smiled sadly, as she ran her thumb over the cracked glass. Today, the pain of his loss was especially strong, she'd been feeling his absence all day, had spent the last few weeks wishing that he could have met Azriel and the rest of their family. She hoped that wherever he was, that he knew that she was safe, happy and with someone who loved her. “It doesn’t work, hasn’t for ages, I tried to use it once and from then on it would only point North. Papa just kept it for good luck."

Lucien watched her. “Maybe it was never meant to work for him. Y’know you can’t get much farther North than the Night court, or the Illyrian Mountains.”

“That’s a lovely thought, Lucien.” She said softly, tears filling her eyes. “Thank you, for helping him be here in some way today.” She cried, pressing the compass to her heart as she threw her arm around him, hugging him tightly. Lucien hugged her back, not letting go until she did. Another knock at the door brought Rhysand sauntering in, shutting the door behind him.

“Making the bride cry, Luc?” he teased.

“Happy tears, only happy tears.” Elain said, dabbing her tears away. “Is it time?”

“Just about.” He nodded, clapping Lucien on the back in greeting.

“I’d better get back to Vassa.” Lucien said, hugging Elain one last time as she whispered her thanks again before he walked out and headed back to the hall.

Elain smiled up at Rhysand. “How is he?”

“Feeling like the luckiest man alive.” He said, grinning. “He’s not wrong. You’re absolutely stunning.”

Elain blushed, tears in her eyes. “Thank you, but I’m the lucky one.”

“You’re perfect for him, you know, perfect together.” he said, getting choked up.

Elain watched him, she rarely saw him this emotional and she couldn’t help but wrap her arms around him as he choked out. “Thank you for loving him, El, the way he deserves.”

“I promise to take care of him, Rhys, to love him and protect him like you have Feyre. He means everything to me.” She promised.

“I know you will, El, of that, I have no doubt. Now, if I take any longer, Az is gonna gonna come in here to get you himself, but I have one last task to complete before we go, per human tradition and Nesta’s orders. I’m told you require something old-“

Elain nodded, tapping the compass that now dangled from her bouquet.

“Something new?” He watched as she motioned to her dress. “Something borrowed?” Elain showed off the jeweled hairpins that Feyre had let her borrow, a solstice gift from Rhysand. “Something borrowed usually comes from family who are happily married, in hopes that their happiness will transfer over to the new couple.” Elain added.

“Well, I know you and Az will be every bit as happy as Feyre and I are, and that just leaves something blue.” Elain nodded and tapped the blue ribbon wrapped around her bouquet, it was the same ribbon Azriel had tied around the first bouquet of flowers he’d ever given her.

"Shall we then?” Rhysand smiled and offered his hand and she took it, laughing as he lifted his hand to twirl her before tucking her hand into the crook of his arm and giving her a nod. Elain returned it, a dazzling smile already on her face, she was ready and they both headed out.

Azriel took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves as he stood waiting.

“Keep breathing like that and you’ll faint before she gets out here.” Cassian teased, smiling over at him. Azriel chuckled and smiled, Cassian had never seen his brother so happy before and he wished more than anything that he and his brothers would enjoy this kind of happiness for the rest of their long, long lives.

Elain and Rhysand stood just on the other side of the closed doors, Feyre and Nesta adjusting Elain’s veil and flowers until it really was time and they both filed through the open doors as soft orchestral music filled the great hall. Cassian winked at Nesta as she made her way to stand at the opposite side of the altar.

“Our turn, El.” Rhysand said, patting her hand and waiting for her to nod before leading her down the aisle. His smile broadened as he felt Elain’s grip tighten slightly as Azriel came in to view, her smile bright enough to light up the entire room.

Elain couldn’t tear her eyes away from him, he was the most handsome male she had ever seen, a fairytale prince ready for their happily ever after.

Azriel’s breath caught and he stilled as Elain entered the hall, stunned by her ethereal beauty and grace. Rhysand walked arm in arm with her, bringing her closer to him, closer to their future together with each step, her eyes never leaving his.

In the first row of seats, his mother dabbed the tears from her eyes. Mor held back tears of her own, Emerie giving her hand a gentle squeeze. Nuala and Cerridwen held each other's hands, dabbing their tears and reveling in the union of their Spymaster and best friend. Amren watched, nodding to Azriel, her way of saying he’d done well for himself…and not to screw it up. Never before in his life had Azriel ever thought that this kind of happiness would ever be a part of his life, but here he was-again, he realized. He’d been here before, in a dream, a dream that was finally coming true. Every bad thing that had ever happened to him, every bad thing that he’d ever done, felt washed away by this newfound happiness, this blissful existence he had finally found with Elain.

Rhysand and Elain finally reached the end of the aisle, Rhys carefully lifting her veil and kissing her cheek before handing her off to Azriel and joining Cassian at his side, Feyre and Nesta at Elain’s side. The smile that Elain leveled up at Azriel was so full of love it made his heart feel as if it were bursting at the seams. It warmed his heart and made his soul sing, he lowered his head and Elain reached up to brush his tears away, her eyes glossy now too. Azriel turned, pressing a kiss to her palm before Gwyn cleared her throat and began, thrilling at the chance to officiate this unique ceremony for her mentor and her new friend.

“Honored and cherished guests, we are gathered here today on this joyous occasion to celebrate the marriage and union between Azriel and Elain Archeron. A union honoring not only the human traditions of Elain’s former mortal life, but celebrating the loving bond that the mother and cauldron have seen fit to bless them with in her new fae life.

This union is a promise, a vow to love, cherish and honor one another for the rest of their lives. It is a symbol of the love and bond that exists between them, a symbol of how far they have come and a vow to face any new challenges together as one. Now, as is tradition, the Bride and Groom will exchange vows.

Gwyn’s smile glowed as she watched, completely enthralled as Azriel turned to Elain, taking her shaking hand in his, his eyes of warm honey meeting her amber pools as he recited his vows.

“Elain, I pledge to you my everlasting devotion, loyalty and respect. I vow to honor you everyday, to protect you and cherish your dreams as if they were my own. My heart, my soul, my life, all of me is yours and has been from the moment I met you. Thank you for dreaming with me, building a future with me, for choosing me, for loving me.” Azriel’s voice was thick with emotion, Elain squeezed his hand gently, her eyes never leaving his, even as tears rolled down her cheeks.

“I can’t promise that things will always be perfect but I can promise that I will always be there to face any challenge with you, be your light in any darkness, I will always come for you. I will spend eternity loving you and showing you everyday that I hold you higher than the stars. I swear to love you in this life and every lifetime hereafter.

Azriel took a shuddering breath, relief washing over him that he hadn’t stumbled over his words, his charming smile returning as he looked down at Elain as she began to recite her vows.

Elain smiled up at him, love shining in her eyes like he had never seen before as she gently took his hand in her own and recited the vows she had written for him.

“Azriel, You are the most incredible person I have ever known. I am so lucky to be standing beside you today. I vow to protect, honor, respect and cherish you forever. To be your sunshine when darkness falls, your comfort when you feel pain and the kiss that wakes you every day. I promise to grow alongside you to become the people that we’re meant to be together. Thank you for showing me what true love really is, you are the love of my life, my best friend, my everything.” Azriel reached up to gently thumb her tears away before wiping his own. “You are my dream come true, the song in my soul and my light in the darkness. You will forever have my heart, my soul and my hand. If I lived a thousand lives, I would choose you every time. I swear to love you in this life and every lifetime hereafter.

Gwyn dabbed at her eyes, sniffling as she continued. “Azriel, do you take Elain to be your wedded wife, in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow, forsaking all others as long as you both shall live?”

Azriel nodded. “I do. Let this ring be a symbol of my vows to you, my best friend, my wife, of our unending love.” He slipped the ring onto Elain’s finger, a band of diamonds and sapphires, 7 sapphires to match his 7 siphons. Azriel’s heart felt whole and full as he placed a gentle kiss on her ring.

Gwyn beamed. “Elain, do you take Azriel to be your wedded husband, in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow, forsaking all others as long as you both shall live?”

Elain nodded, “I do. Let this ring be a symbol of my vows to you, my best friend, my husband, of our unending love.” Elain beamed as she slid the band onto Azriel’s finger, engraved with Illyrian runes for “love” and “eternity”. Elain placed her own kiss over his ring, lacing their fingers together as they turned to face Gwyn.

“May the mother and the cauldron continue to bless your bond, your love, your future and this marriage. May your bonded hearts and twin souls never be parted, and may there be no storm your love cannot weather. With all the power and authority that I possess, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Azriel, you may kiss your Bride.”

At last Azriel cradled Elain’s face in his hands and their lips met, a kiss of unyielding, undying and everlasting love, those golden threads of their bond dancing and winding around them, their souls more bound to one another than ever before. Elain’s heart soared, it was more wonderful than any wedding she could have imagined before, because she was surrounded by family and friends that she loved and she was standing beside her one true soulmate, the man she would happily spend the rest of her life with. Azriel pulled away, kissing her once and twice more before linking his pinky with hers. “Until the end of forever.”

Elain nodded, sealing it with another kiss. “Until the end of forever.”

Swirls of ink seemed curl and flourish under their wedding rings, peeking around the edges and complimenting them perfectly, symbols of their love and their promise to honor and cherish one another until the end of their days and beyond, honoring both their traditions in this unbreakable bargain and bond.

Azriel smiled and led Elain back down the aisle, picking her up and carrying her through their cheering friends and family as the music played again.

"That was lovely..." Gwyn said, watching as she dabbed the tears from her eyes. "but what happens next?" she whispered to Cassian.

Cassian smirked, offering his arm to Nesta. "Now, we revel! Drink and dance!"

"And singing? I heard there might be singing..." Gwyn said, following the pair where they would all dance, drink, sing and celebrate the happiness that they had all finally found.

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mimisempai · 4 years ago

Text

If you don't tell them, at least tell me

Summary

When they are in public, Sam never acts like he and Bucky are together and never mentions that they are a couple. Bucky begins to have doubts...

Or 5 times Sam omits the truth and once he reveals it.

To answer the " are you dating or not" trope :D

Words : 2441 - 1/1 Rating : G

https://archiveofourown.org/works/31528004

"Are you and Bucky... uh... "

Joaquin and Sam were working on the new Redwing updates. Sam, focused, hadn't really paid attention to the question.

"Hm?"

Joaquin a little embarrassed, scratched the back of his head and repeated without looking directly at Sam, "Is that you and Bucky... are you... well you know together or what?"

"And why are you asking me this question now?"

"Oh well… just like that, I was under the impression that..."

Sam replied abruptly, "No. Get back to work."

Joaquin raised his hands as if surrendering.

"Okay... okay... forget it."

A little later, a few miles away, Bucky who was helping Sarah on the boat, felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket.

He read the message and put the phone away with a dejected look on his face.

"And? What did he answer?"

"Pfff, Joaquin texted me that Sam just said no."

"Bucky, don't make that face, Sam isn't the type to blurt out something like that so easily. It doesn't mean anything."

"Yeah, yeah I know."

But Sarah could tell he didn't look convinced.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"I hate this. If there's one thing I don't like in the whole Captain america thing, it's this."

Sam had just exited the conference room after one hour in the spotlight answering questions from various press representatives.

"You did very well Sam, it's a change from Tony, at least I get to speak up once in a while."

Rhodey patted him on the back to emphasize his words.

"Thanks, because I was honestly so surprised that they asked me that question that I didn't know how to answer."

"Rule of thumb, unless your name is Tony Stark, when reporters ask you personal questions, you answer 'no comment' over and over again."

Rhodey handed him a glass of water, before continuing with a half smile, "By the way, that last question, about you and Bucky… are you... together?"

Sam gave him a scowl before replying, "No comment."

Rhodey chuckled lightly, "Got it."

He knew Sam well enough to know when not to push.

"Well, I have to go Sam. See you soon."

Rhodey shook Sam's hand then headed for the door, as he was about to close it he turned and said, "Tell Bucky I said hi!"

As he closed the door he had just enough time to see Sam's threatening look and laughed.

Rhodey picked up his cell phone and typed,

-He said neither yes nor no, just no comment.

At the same time in Delacroix, Bucky was sharing a beer with Carlos when he received the message from Rhodey. After reading it, he muttered something incomprehensible as he abruptly put his phone down on the table.

"Hey buddy, what's wrong? Is something wrong with you and Sam?" Carlos asked teasingly.

Bucky looked up, a little surprised, "You know about Sam and me?"

Carlos began to laugh out loud.

"Bucky, all of Delacroix knows. You're anything but discreet, I mean... when you're together it shows that it's more than friendship, add to that the hearts in your eyes and the way Sam acts when he's with you, even a blind man could see it."

"That's really funny, really. Hahaha… Then, if everyone knows it why doesn't Sam want to acknowledge it?"

"Did you ask him?"

"No man, he's going to laugh at me if I ask him, I'm sure. So I asked Joaquin and Rhodey. To neither of them did he acknowledge that we were together. I'm starting to wonder if I'm the one who's mistaken about our relationship."

"Bucky, you need to take a step back, and have the courage to ask him. Communication is the key, believe me. I'm sure it's not so serious."

He clinked his bottle with Bucky's who replied without much enthusiasm, "Yeah I'll do that, I'll just have to find the right time."

~~~~~~~~~~

A week later, Sam was returning from his last mission. He was walking along the harbor to meet up with Bucky and Sarah who were working on the boat when he was called out by Carlos.

"Hey Sam, you're back!'"

Sam approached the old worker and greeted him, "Hey Carlos, it's good to be here."

"I believe you, for nothing in the world will I leave this place. Even if I am alone here, Delacroix is my whole life. And here you have your family, Sarah, the kids, Bucky..."

"What Bucky?"

"Well Bucky he is your family right? Since you're-"

"We're what?"

"Well together, like… huh… you know what I mean right?"

"No," Sam replied, "I don't know what you mean."

Then with a half smile, he resumed, "Well I'm going to find MY family" and he winked as he pointed to Sarah and Bucky who were busy on the boat.

"Smartass... but Sam wait please."

Already leaving Sam turned around and asked, "What?"

"Don't play too much with Bucky, he's really starting to worry."

"Don't worry about him Carlos, I know what I'm doing. Bye!"

Sam walked with a quiet smile towards the boat.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Uncle Bucky! Uncle Bucky!"

Cass stormed into the kitchen where Sarah and Sam were quietly drinking coffee.

"Uncle Bucky's not here?"

Sarah replied, "What did I tell you about running into the kitchen, and no Bucky isn't here yet."

"Aww but he said he would come play soccer with us!"

"If he said he'd come, he'll come."

"Okay mom, so if Uncle Bucky comes, you tell him we're already at the field okay?"

Sam who had witnessed the whole exchange intervened, "Uncle Bucky? Since when is it Uncle Bucky?"

Cass rolled his eyes as if his uncle was an idiot for asking such a question.

"Well since you two are together, if he's with you it's only fair that we call him that, right?"

"What do you mean together? We're not-"

He was interrupted by the sound of a ball bouncing.

"Uncle Buckyyy! You're finally here! Come on, everyone's waiting for you!"

Sam turned abruptly, to see that Bucky was standing in the doorway picking up the ball that had just bounced right in front of his feet. Then he quickly got up and turned to leave. As he left he said in a falsely cheerful tone, "Sarah, I'll have them back by 5pm. Does that give you enough time?"

"Great Bucky! Thanks."

Bucky walked away with the children waiting outside the house. It had all happened quickly, but Sam had had time to see the hurt expression on Bucky's face. Hethought for the first time that maybe he had let things go a little too far.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"You should really go talk to him Sam."

Sitting on a bench in front of his sister's house, lost in thought, Sam hadn't heard her coming.

"Don't start, you know who I'm talking about."

Sam sighed, "Yes I know."

"You're playing a dangerous game big brother, and why?"

"Look Sarah, our relationship is our business, what we are is our business, and it's him I need to discuss it with, not outsiders. Actually, we haven't really talked about our relationship yet."

"Then do it! It's easy for you. Bucky wears his heart on his sleeve. So maybe you don't need to feel reassured. But some people need to hear the words. And maybe that's the case with Bucky. He just needs to hear it from you, if he knows where he stands then it won't matter to him if others know or not."

Sam stayed there for another long moment thinking about what Sarah had just told him.

Finally he stood up, he knew what he had to do.

~~~~~~~~~~

"And then your Uncle Sam he just said, 'on your left' and flew over the battlefield, you should have seen, he was so amazing. And then we all went in through the portals that Doctor Strange had created."

"Wow, and then tell about when Steve gave Sam the shield, please Uncle Bucky!"

Bucky and the kids couldn't see him and Sam paused for a bit, enjoying the scene before his eyes.

Bucky, lying in the grass surrounded by his nephews and the neighborhood kids, some lying against him, one sitting on top of him and another clinging to his arm that Bucky was gently lifting. They were all hanging onto Bucky's every word.

"So you see, the Hulk, well Professor Hulk, rigged the time machine so that Steve could bring the stones back to where they belong. What Sam didn't know was that Steve had no intention of coming back directly. And so when he reappeared he looked like an old man. Then he gave the shield to Sam."

"Wow!" Cass exclaimed, "So he gave his super shield to Uncle so easily? But you didn't want it?"

Bucky laughed slightly, "Oh no, I'm a follower, not a leader. I couldn't have picked a better person to carry the shield. That Captain America, kids, I'll follow him into the flames. AJ and Cass, you can be proud of your uncle."

Sam gasped at the loyalty and pride that resonated in Bucky's words.

"Yeah, but you have your great arm too!"

"That's right!" he lifted his arm higher and the boy hanging on it laughed out loud followed by the other kids.

Sam stepped forward, Cass and AJ saw him, stood up and ran to him, "Uncle Sam!"

"So you're the ones who kidnapped my boyfriend?"

Bucky straightened up, looked into Sam's eyes for two seconds and Sam saw the smile move from his eyes to his mouth. He thought to himself that he had made the right decision.

"Your boyfriend?" Cass planted himself in front of Sam with his hands on his hips and continued, "Haha, see I was right to call him Uncle Bucky."

Sam laughed and replied, "Yes, yes, you were absolutely right. So can I have Uncle Bucky back now?"

Bucky jumped to his feet and approached, "And what do you want to do with Uncle Bucky?" he asked with a mischievous gleam in the eyes.

Sam looked more serious, "I want to talk to him" he held out his hand, "Will you come with me?"

Bucky took the outstretched hand and followed him, all the while waving his other hand at the kids.

"Hi kids! See you soon! Practice hard for next time."

Sam and Bucky walked away hand in hand to the laughter and shouts of the kids.

They walked in silence for a moment and then Sam spoke up.

"Bucky, I'm sorry. I wasn't ready to answer the questions about us. And without meaning to, I hurt your feelings. Sarah made it clear that I was wrong. Things are so natural between us that I don't question it. But when Joaquin and Rhodey asked me about it, I realized that we hadn't even taken the time to talk about our relationship. That's why I preferred to deny it rather than-"

"Sam, about Joaquin and Rhodey, I was the one who told them to ask you, because I realized that when we were in the presence of other people, you never talked about us, or you were much more distant and I wondered if you... uh I realize that it's silly, since I live with you and that… and… anyway I wondered if you saw our relationship in the long term and I started to doubt. So I reacted stupidly but I-"

Sam put a finger to his mouth, "Bucky, even though going through joaquin and Rhodey was really silly, if we had taken the time, if I had taken the time to talk to you, you wouldn't have felt the need to do something like that. I think we both need to learn to talk. Bucky, when I said I love you, it wasn't just words, I am totally committed to this relationship and it is very important to me. You are very important to me."

Sam stopped walking, let go of Bucky's hand, framed his face and kissed him gently on the forehead, then on the lips.

"Sam, we're in the middle of the street, everyone can see us!"

"So what? Who will stop me from making out with my boyfriend? Those who don't want to see, let them look away."

Just for the expression his words elicited on Bucky's face, Sam would repeat those words over and over again.

"But Bucky," Sam whispered against his lips, "You need to talk to me too. If you have any doubts, talk to me. We've always said things to each other's faces, even at the risk of hurting each other's feelings sometimes, we need to keep going."

He saw Bucky bite his lip as if he was hesitant to speak. Sam moved back a little and said, "Bucky talk to me."

"I know I'm not the best fit, I have a lot of work to do on myself. But Sam I don't want to be the weak one in this relationship, the one who is always being cajoled. I need to know that you see me as an equal, someone you can lean on, someone you can confide in. So the fact that you don't talk about us, I thought maybe you couldn't do all that with me."

Sam gave him a gentle smack on the back of Bucky's head.

"Idiot. I never considered you weak Bucky. Never. It's you I turn to and will turn to first when I have or will need it. Bucky, you are the one I entrust my family to when I go on a mission. I know they have someone to rely on when I'm not around. It's one of my strengths Bucky. Believe me. Knowing that no matter what I go through, you and my family, no actually I mean my family, including you, will be there to take me in, and bear whatever I can't bear anymore, that's my-hmpf"

Sam's words were muffled by Bucky who had thrown his arms around him and was kissing him passionately, not caring anymore that they were making out in the middle of the street.

Lost in their embrace, now that they had told each other almost everything, they forgot all that was not them.

Much later when they caught their breath, Sam murmured with a slight laugh, "That's a good way to communicate too."

Bucky replied with a big laugh as he pulled Sam by the hand, "Come on Mister boyfriend, let's go home, I know another way to communicate where we are both good." He accompanied his words with a suggestive raised eyebrow which earned him a second smack on the head as Sam grumbled with eyes raised to the sky, "My boyfriend is an idiot."

"Yep but he's YOUR boyfriend."

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #fluff #5+1 things #5+1 fic #tfatws

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bluegarners · 4 years ago

Text

“Dick has an overdose at a gala, hurt/comfort” ~ anon

~oOo~

He forgot to take his meds this morning.

Dick blows out a frustrated breath because that means he’s going to have to rearrange his entire cycle in order to not double dose. He always takes Zoloft in the morning with his breakfast and protein shake, and then the rest of the day goes smoothly and he can go to bed without the lingering worry of whether or not he remembered to do something. It’s an ingrained part of his routine and Dick is kicking himself for having forgotten to do it today.

The little yellow-tinted pill in his hand mocks him of his absent mindedness. The entire day had thrown him off of his usual planning, the not so gentle reminder of tonight’s charity gala for leukemia causing him to flit about in an attempt at getting his very much not used suit dry cleaned for the evening. Alfred would probably feel the need to strangle his first grandchild if Dick showed up with a wrinkled suit smelling of dust and disuse.

That wrench thrown into his day leads him to where he is now, staring down the pill in his hand and holding a glass of water in the other. He could always take his meds tomorrow so his routine wouldn’t be thrown off so drastically, but even the thought of doing so makes his hands feel clammy for skipping an entire day. He promised his psychiatrist he was going to take these things more seriously and he wanted to at least start that off by regularly taking his prescription. It had been working, so far, and Dick really didn’t want to fall into the bad habit of “skip-days”, so with one fluid motion, he was swallowing the pill and gulping down water.

Tonight was going to be fun at least. Even with his flighty day and the hassle it was doing things he should’ve done the previous week, Dick was excited to go to a gala for once. It was one of the rare occasions where Bruce had managed to convince all of his wayward children to go, and it had been far too long since Dick had spent some time with all of his siblings. He saw Damian at least once a week, Tim as well, but Jason had been a struggle to get a hold of and Cass and Duke were always busy with their own responsibilities. Not that Dick wasn’t busy as well, but in his book, there was always time for family.

Dick walks out of the bathroom, feeling slightly more pleased with himself for following through with his promise, and quickly walks to the garage where most of the family had already gathered. Had it not been for the fact that Cass and Duke happened to be staying at the Manor that week, Dick would have driven by himself to the banquet hall, but as it were, he was going to make every effort possible to squeeze in as much time as he could to be with his brothers and sister.

A slight problem arose though, as fitting eight total people into one car, driver included, was a tight fit. However, living with a billionaire had numerous perks, one of which being that they could choose from a variety of overly expensive cars and limousines and tonight, Alfred had chosen a classy black limo with leather seats and a cooler filled with bite-size cucumber sandwiches and bottled waters because, “In all of the many years of hosting galas, the Bestout family has yet to figure out how to properly serve a banquet.”

Slipping into the passenger seats, Dick was slightly giddy at the sight of both Damian and Duke already munching on a few of the snacks Alfred had prepared, Tim typing away on his phone and Cass curiously peering over his shoulder. They all looked dashing in their respective suits, and Dick reached out to lightly pat the head of the youngest, careful as to not disturb the neatly gelled locks of hair.

“Richard,” Damian acknowledges, a stray piece of bread clinging firmly to the side of his mouth. Adorable. “Where is Todd and Father?”

Before Dick has a chance to reply, Bruce and Jason step into the garage, Bruce’s hand latched firmly onto the third oldest’s shoulder. Dick can hardly hide his grin as Jason huffily plops down into the seat next to him, obviously still miffed at being forced to go to the gala. Bruce follows shortly after, taking his place besides Cass and in front of Dick, reaching into the cooler as well to retrieve a sandwich.

“Shall we proceed, sir?” Alfred calls from the front, the small window dividing the driver from the passengers a perfect view of the butler’s unimpressed eyebrows. “Or should we wait until the gala has ended to arrive?”

“Yes please. Sorry, Alfred.”

With that, they roll out of the Wayne Manor grounds and begin the short drive to the Bestout Charity Auction. Dick, personally, had no money to bid with and no intention to do so at all, but Bruce’s pockets went deep and they had already planned on what pieces to bid on and who to out-bid. Tim had made the bet that their “rivals” would attempt to out-bid the Waynes this year, and Tim was nothing but prideful on keeping the Wayne name free of that sort of blasphemy. He had done the math, was probably reviewing it on his phone at the moment, and had estimated that they could easily bid away about seven million dollars on a singular piece tonight if things went according to plan.

Money. Old money at that.

He feels a small tap on his shin then, and looks over to where Cass is gazing at him. She quirks her eyebrow, holding out her right palm and twisting her left middle finger against it. He nods, giving her two thumbs up and saying, “I remembered, don’t worry.”

She smiles, satisfied, before going back over to whatever Tim was doing on his phone. The rest of the ride is mostly silent, Dick basking in the presence of his family, until they finally pull up to the entrance. They are precisely thirty minutes late, fashionably so, and Jason is the first one to exit, followed then by Bruce, Cass, Tim, Duke, Damian, and lastly Dick.

Immediately, they are met with the flashing of numerous cameras, a couple shouting out questions or beckoning them to look their way for a good shot. Bruce indulges in a few of the requests, stopping for a few seconds, before hurrying up the steps, his many children following just as quickly behind. Entering, they are greeted with a high vaulted ceiling with a singular ornate chandelier hanging down as the centerpiece and a few other light fixtures to highlight the entrance.

Despite the initial grandeur, the charity gala is relaxed. Formal casual wear was allowed and encouraged upon, which basically meant one didn’t need to come dressed like they were meeting the Queen of England and could come in simple slacks and dress shirt, and for this reason and this reason alone is how Bruce managed to convince six of his children to attend. No one liked galas. Well, no one except Duke who was highly fascinated with how the rich and prim lived compared to the grittiness of Wayne Manor.

As Alfred had lamented about, the Wayne family was late, perhaps an hour or so from the initial invitation arrival time, and all eyes were on them as they entered the banquet hall. Cocktail hour had just begun, and it was a matter of moments before a chorus of simpering, “Brucie! Over here!” began and Jason and Duke disappeared to look for the bar. Tim meandered off to find a few familiar faces, and Dick, Damian, and Cass were left standing near the entrance.

For a second, Dick regrets his decision not to force himself to eat one of the cucumber sandwiches Alfred had prepared as his stomach rolled around unpleasantly. His medication didn’t require a meal to be eaten with it, but again, he had been thrown off his normal routine and that usually included some food.

He feels a nudge into his side and glances over to where Cass is smirking at him.

“I know, I know,” Dick groans, slumping slightly. “Alfred warned us, but you know I don’t like cucumbers. I’m just- yeah, I’m just going to go find something that doesn’t look like old cheese. Either of you coming with me?”

He extends a hand pleasantly, bowing over and winking at both of his youngest brother and sister.

“Unlike you,” Damian drawls, absently checking his fingernails, “I took sound advice when it was given.” He glances upwards, eyes narrowing as he finds his target. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, it would appear that Father is in need of assistance.”

Dick watches the youngest Wayne march astutely towards a struggling Bruce Wayne, broadcasting a small amount of distress as yet another slightly drunk (already?) woman leers at him through false lashes.

“Cass?” Dick asks hopefully, turning back towards her. “My most wonderful and elegant sister, will you come with me?” In truth, Dick was the tiniest bit hesitant to go over to the buffet style table by himself, no doubt going to be swarmed by the Gotham elite youth once he was alone and miserable once he took in the shallow presentation of foods.

But his dear sister is nothing but sweet and ruthless, smiling prettily at him before walking off in the other direction, most likely to find Jason and Duke at the bar. Cass didn’t like alcohol, but she knew how to order a Shirley Temple all the same.

With a sigh, Dick begins the trudge over to the long horderves table, snagging a flute of strong smelling champagne on the way. He didn’t really like champagne truthfully, more of a white wine kind of guy himself, but it gave off the impression that he was relaxed and confident even if he was mentally preparing himself for food disappointment. He’s right, well, Alfred is right, as his gaze travels mournfully over the plain and overly dressed finger foods. Was it really just that impossible to serve a nice plate of cheese and crackers with some fruit? What in the world was foie gras entier anyway?

A hand slides smoothly over his shoulder as Dick contemplates if the horderve is an organ or not, and he steadily turns his head to meet artfully decorated brown eyes.

“Well if it isn’t the elusive Richard Grayson,” the woman says, letting her hand fall from his shoulder to his elbow. “It’s been a while since I saw you at one of these.”

Another hand brushes against his shoulder, and he turns his head the other way to meet the eyes of the exact same woman on his other arm.

“Tristy is right,” the other, same?, woman coos. “It’s been too long, Richard. Tell me, where have you been? You haven’t been avoiding us, right?”

It finally clicks into place as Dick looks back and forth between the identical women. The Thoreau sisters. Identical twins. Heiresses to the Thoreau Parts manufacturing company. Their entire net worth was close to five hundred million and the sisters were notorious, perhaps even more so than “Brucie Wanye”, for bringing home exploits and one night stands.

“Good evening ladies,” Dick says simply, dialing back the charm he usually reserved for the elderly elite of Gotham. “It’s been awhile since I last came to one of these auctions, but tonight is for a good cause. Of course I would come.”

The two sisters titter lightly, hands flying up to cover their arched grins. “Oh yes,” maybe Tristy says. “The auction is surely going to be a smashing success. At least with a man like your father bidding tonight, and that man is nothing but generous.”

The sudden innuendos leave Dick feeling slightly off footed. It truly has been too long since he attended one of these galas, and he’s out of practice at maneuvering around seduction attempts such as these.

“Oh hush,” the other sister snaps, tapping Dick’s bicep twice to get his attention back to her. “Do you plan on bidding at all?” she asks charmingly. “My sister and I have our eyes on a sculpture by Vasconcelos and it would break our hearts if your father also had plans to bid for it.”

Dick shakes his head, bringing his flute of champagne upwards to take a sip. He decides he does not like the taste of carbonation. “No, I can’t say I have plans to bid on any one particular item tonight. However, I can promise you that Bruce has no plans to bid on any sculptures, so you will find no grievances with him I hope.”

“How gracious,” possibly Tristy practically moans, leaning into Dick’s side. “You know,” she whispers, eyes flicking back and forth in mirth, “If you’re not planning on bidding at all, there’s a private study somewhere. Once the bidding begins, we can just,” she leans in closer, practically licking Dick’s ear, “get out of here.”

A cold feeling begins to settle in Dick’s gut, his composure quickly melting away as he struggles to keep on a pleasant smile. Has it always been like this? When was the last time he actually attended a gala? He can’t remember being harassed like this, much less so soon. They just arrived and already someone’s trying to take him to bed. Is that all he looks good for? Why is it so hard to just have a normal conversation? This is supposed to be a family day, and yet here he is, separating himself from them all because he can’t control his cravings and really this harassment should’ve been expected because Gotham didn’t call Richard Grayson Bruce’s imprint because he had to get the “playboy” tendencies from somewhere if not genetics, so really he’s fine and just making a big deal out of nothing.

This was normal. Right.

Lost in his head, Dick realizes too late that it’s been far too long since he’s said something aloud. Tristy, or whoever it is that’s to his right, is frowning at him, a mean looking sneer adorning red lips. The other sister, he just doesn’t know her, is looking at him with something akin to disgust as well though slightly better hidden.

He clears his throat. Clears it again. His throat feels funny. “Look, ladies,” Dick says, “I’m flattered, I really am, but I’m not looking for anything right now. I’m sure you’re both lovely, but I think I’m going to… yeah, I’m just going to go find Bruce. You know how he gets when he’s had more than a couple glasses,” he tries to chuckle, tapering off when neither of the women join in. “Have a good evening.”

Extracting himself from their manicured hands is more difficult than he thought it would be, their insistence at keeping him cornered to the table making him more nervous. The ice in his stomach pinches unpleasantly, and Dick finishes off the champagne to place the little flute on a passing waiter’s stand.

The lingering stench of overpriced perfume has him feeling nauseous, and Dick looks around for one of his family members. He spots Jason and Duke still at the bar, seemingly content at just sipping and observing, and Dick makes the move to walk towards them when the room tilts slightly. He stumbles, hardly even that, and rights himself in less than a second. He looks down, frowning when he sees nothing that might’ve tripped him up.

“Richard,” a voice calls out, and Dick turns to see Damian making his way towards him, Bruce trailing slightly behind.

“Hey, Dami!” Dick gushes, his unease melting away at the familiar faces. “Meet anyone interesting yet?”

The boy huffs, crossing his arms. “If by interesting you mean intelligent, then no. Not a single person here is capable of holding a conversation before spouting some nonsense. It should be considered cruel.”

“I hear you there,” Dick sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. Is it just him, or is the banquet hall extremely bright? The Bestout’s should consider investing less in chandeliers and more in good food. “Did any of the art pieces catch your interest?”

Another huff. “No,” Damian replies. “Modern art holds no value. I find nothing special about three dots in the center of a large canvas. If anything, it is a waste of material.”

“Bruce?” Dick asks. “What about you? I just ran into the Thoreau sisters; they said they were going to bid on that, uh, what was their name again… the Vasconcelos sculpture.”

Bruce grimaces at the company name, looking more closely at Dick. “No, nothing was to my taste. Alfred has asked me to bid on a tea set supposedly owned by Queen Anne. It is… vintage?”

Dick nods, willing himself not to laugh at Bruce’s idea of something vintage. “Nice. I’m sure Alfred will be excited to add it to his collection. Have, uh, any of you guys seen Tim or Cass at all?”

“Cain left,” Damian says simply. “Brown invaded the gala about ten minutes ago and coerced her into ditching. Drake is most likely stuffing himself into a corner.”

“Oh.”

A waiter walks by just then and Dick snags another champagne glass. He takes two sips, feeling some of his anxiety from earlier rise up again. Tonight was supposed to be a family night, or at least one as close to it as it could get, and already Cass had left? He doesn’t blame her for wanting to be with Steph, he remembers how infatuated he was in his first relationship, but he already felt the tell-tale tug in his heart that told him he was lonely.

“I’m going to go find Tim,” he announces, patting the top of Damian’s head and giving a squeeze to Bruce’s left shoulder. “Have fun you two.”

They wave him off with little else, and Dick looks around the hall for the middle child. As his gaze travels from table to table, he can’t help but feel as if all eyes are on him, catching his gaze with each flicker. Taking deep breaths, Dick takes another sip, meandering slowly around the perimeters of the already established social groups. He catches bits and pieces of conversations, most if not all having nothing to do with tonight’s auction, and Dick begins to tap his fingers restlessly against his outer thigh. Why does he feel so anxious?

Someone bumps into him rather rudely, causing Dick to stumble again, but when he turns around to semi-glare, there is no one around him. The lights in the hall are blinding and Dick can feel a headache begin to form at the front of his skull. His breaths are suddenly very loud and Dick becomes all too aware of just how many people there are. At least two hundred and all of them seemed to be staring at Dick.

Someone else brushes up behind him, and Dick quickly turns around to confront them, because come on, that’s not a nice thing to do. There is no one there though. No one was even near enough to touch him and Dick feels sweat begin to trickle down the back of his suit.

What was he doing again? Right, right, searching for Tim. Tim was always calm, he’s sure he’s got to be around here somewhere.

“Richard,” a voice sing-songs to him. “Oh, Kathy, he’s right over here. My, my, thought you could give us the slip, hm?”

His grip on the glass of champagne tightens slightly as one of the Thoreau sisters slithers her way in front of him. He didn’t want to talk to them. He wasn’t feeling well. They didn’t make him feel comfortable and Dick really needed to find Tim.

“You don’t look so good, Richy,” Tristy, Kathy, whoever, whispered. “Are you feeling alright? Had one too many to drink it looks like.”

The other sister laughs. “We only left you for twenty minutes. Missed us that terribly? How sweet.”

One of them grips his bicep again. Turns his chin so he’s facing her head on. The other one falls out of his line of sight. He thinks he’s seeing triple though because the twin in front of him is slowly separating into two, faces flickering back and forth and failing to align with the center.

“Maybe he’s tired,” she says, voice distorted and far away. “Finish that off and we’ll all go find somewhere to lay down, hm? Somewhere… private.”

The flute of alcohol is pressed gently into his lips and Dick automatically begins to drink from it, the liquid sliding down easily. It leaves a sour taste on his tongue, and huh, that’s weird. It didn’t taste like that before. He really does hate the taste of carbonation.

Hands on either side of him push him forward, his feet dragging and shoes all of a sudden much too big for his feet. The glass is taken from his trembling grip, a whisper of “Wouldn’t want you to drop that,” letting his decisions elude him. The smell of sharp chemicals assault his nose and Dick feels his stomach roll. He thinks he might vomit.

Even though he keeps his face to the floor, the bodies beside him guiding the way, Dick can feel the stares, the eyes, that bore into him. The pressure leaves his chest heavy, feeling as though he’s slowly sinking into the red carpet below. The red shifts and melts like wax beneath his polished shoes, pooling and coiling around his shoelaces and reaching towards his ankles.

It smells like blood.

The red turns into a dark gray suddenly, fuzz turning into slick tile and the hands that gripped onto his biceps earlier now trail towards the hemline of his pants. He jerks, neck craning upwards and hands fumbling to push the invasion away. He’s simply shushed though, hands restraining his own and Dick feels like he’s been shot when he realizes he can’t get his legs to move properly.

He’s shoved towards an open door way, tripping and falling over himself as any semblance of coordination leaves him. It’s brighter in this room but everything keeps swirling together. Vertigo slowly weaves its way around his head and soon, there is no difference from up and down, left and right, sister and sister.

Nails dig into the sides of his cheeks in a harsh and fervent grip, and Dick feels like throwing up when he sees nothing but the swirling vortex of a flesh colored void. It spins faster and faster and Dick has to look away, but the sight of himself in a mirror is no better because that has to be him that’s standing there pressed into a stone counter but at the same time it can’t because he left that all behind.

He left Spyral behind. He escaped. He was home. They couldn’t control him anymore and yet- and yet.

Another blank flesh void stares back at his turned head. No visible features to recognize himself by. A smooth canvas that twists and churns and leaves him faceless. He is nothing once more.

Something breaks inside of him and Dick feels a sob erupt from out of his chest. He’s just so confused and scared and lost and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He doesn’t want to be here anymore. He doesn’t want to go back to Spyral. His mission was completed, he had done everything Bruce asked of him and even after enduring throughout all of that, Dick feels that desperate yearning for his father.

He wants Bruce. He’s so scared. His head hurts. He can’t feel his legs anymore. Everything keeps colliding into everything and he can’t even recognize his own cries because even that sounds like it’s a lifetime away, all the way back in Gotham, but instead he’s stuck here and he doesn’t even know where here is anymore because Agent 37 isn’t allowed to ask questions, that’s not his place, that’s not his place, he’s not allowed-

“Wow,” a voice breathes into his ear, “you’re even pretty when you cry.”

And Dick doesn’t really know when it started raining, but his face is wet and the person is right, he is crying and it’s raining so hard and he doesn’t completely understand why or how but he does know he doesn’t like the hands that keep fumbling with his belt. He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want her. He should say something. He should say something, but his mouth won’t move and he just lays there and takes it because that’s all he’s good for right? That’s why Barbara didn’t want to see him anymore because he’s just an awful person that just takes it and please, please, please stop.

“Are you afraid of spiders, Richard?”

Of course he’s afraid. He’s terrified. He’s even more afraid of the dark and the dark contains many, many scary things. Things like a calloused hand reaching out to smother him, to choke him, to kill him. Things like a bright red pill shoved into his mouth, things like a bomb attached to his heart, things like the heat of the metal on his back as the chaos consumed him, destined to watch, destined to die, destined to be smothered over and over again. Bright red pill. Rough hands. Bright red lips. He can’t breathe. He can’t breathe.

Dick vomits.

~oOo~

“Mister Wayne?”

Bruce looks up from his phone, a smartly dressed waitress staring at him. “Yes?”

She holds out a folded napkin to him and Bruce takes it from her hesitantly. He stares at it before glancing back up. “I don’t understand.”

The woman gives him a half-hearted shrug. “I was only told to give it to you, sir. I don’t know what it is. Excuse me.”

With that, the waitress turns back around into the throng of people that wave her over for drinks. Bruce looks down at the napkin, putting away his phone quickly as he unfolds it. It’s a note, hastily written in smudged black, similar to a crayon. Perhaps some sort of makeup applicator. Bruce doesn’t give it much thought though as he reads,

Find your son.

And isn’t that a great way to get his heart to stop? His first instinct is to look wildly about and start dashing around in search of his, holy shit, five sons he brought along to the gala. Bruce stops though, forces himself to take three deep breaths and count to five, before calmly beginning to make his way to the entrance of the banquet hall. It was easier to see everyone from that position and it was crowded enough so that he wouldn’t immediately be singled out once again.

As he walks, he stares at the napkin note, trying to decipher who exactly sent it. It was a woman’s hand writing, he’s sure of it, but the intentions behind it could be anything. Ransom? A threat? A simple warning that one of his sons was much too drunk to care about public decency? Either way, being passed an anonymous note wasn’t good and Bruce felt his gut clench in apprehension. He tries to think of everything that’s happened throughout the night so far.

Damian had remained mostly by his side, a good defense to have on hand whenever one of the socialites got a bit too grabby. Jason and Duke had remained a pair by the bar from what he'd heard, challenging other young adults into dart games and shot pyramids. Tim had steadily been making his way through old friends, chatting with a few and periodically texting Bruce to ask what the bidding was at.

(Alfred will be happy to know that he now had one more tea set to add to his collection)

And Dick… well, Bruce honestly hadn’t been keeping secure tabs on him. He’s trying to be a better father to adult Dick Grayson. Privacy and space had been something Dick had last emphasized on, the “mother-henning” as Dick liked to call it, overbearing and un-welcomed. When his eldest had mentioned his run in with the Thoreau sisters, Bruce had been concerned and looked for signs that his son was uncomfortable or something worse. As usual though, Dick had merely grinned and carried on like it was nothing and perhaps that was all it had been at the time but now with this note, this damn napkin note in his hands, Bruce could feel the suspicion slide into him like water.

“Father?”

A hand tugs on his right sleeve and Bruce finds himself sighing in relief as his youngest appears in front of him. Scrutinizing his son, Bruce finds nothing obviously wrong with him, hair still perfectly in place and a permanent frown etched upon his brow. His suit is still stain, spill, and wrinkle free and Bruce clasps a heavy hand onto Damian’s shoulder.

“Are you alright?” he asks, keeping eye contact.

“Of course,” is Damian’s curt reply. “What happened?”

Wordlessly, Bruce hands over the napkin to him, watching as his son’s frown deepens. “I shall gather Todd and Thomas. I will return shortly.”

Damian’s small figure disappears into the crowd easily, leaving Bruce standing by himself at the front of the hall. Pulling out his phone again, he quickly types out, Come to the front of the hall. Urgent, and sends it to Tim. He types out the same message and sends it to Dick as well and contends himself for the wait by tapping his foot against the red carpet.

A minute barely passes before he spots Jason’s broad figure moving through the crowd, and the tension in his gut only increases as he counts the heads moving towards him. One, two, three, four…

“What’s going on?” Duke asks as the four boys gather closely. “Are we, uh, needed?”

Bruce shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so. Damian showed you the note?”

“What note?” Tim demands. “Bruce, what’s going on? Is something- oh,” he trails off, hand coming up to rub at his mouth as he reads the scribbled napkin. Tim turns his gaze to begin counting, and the same realization dawns upon him as he finally looks at Bruce’s grim face. “Where’s Dick?”

“I’ll call him,” Jason is quick to offer, pulling out his cellphone. He dials and holds it to his ear as the rest of the family watches. “Voicemail,” he grimaces, staring down at the device as if it had personally offended him.

“We’ll split up. Jason, you’re with me. Duke, Tim, Damian, you three will go towards the east end, Jason and I will take west. Keep your phones on,” Bruce orders, checking his own ringer as he does so. “Ask around to see if anyone has seen Dick. We don’t know what we’re dealing with yet, so remain cautious. Understood?”

A chorus of “yes” is the motivator for the split and like liquid, they flow back into the crowd seamlessly.

~oOo~

He’s alone.

Or, Dick thinks he is. Well, now that he’s thought about it, Agent 37 is never alone. There’s always someone there, watching him, waiting for him to fail. But Nightwing works alone in Bludhaven. He’s discovered that he doesn’t like team ups much. Partnerships always end in the rain and he doesn’t like the rain. He doesn’t mind it so much when Batman’s cape is shielding his face but the rain is still pelting his cheeks and it smells like acid.

It smells like acid and metal. It sounds like endless whirring too, constant noise when all he wants right now is quiet. He wants to reach out and smother whatever it is that’s making the noise but his limbs are gone, he can’t move, he’s been restrained once again and that damn red pill, or maybe it’s tinted yellow this time, he can’t be sure, there are just so many pills, so many pills, it’s all keeping him down and dead.

He feels his stomach convulsing again and he gags, unsure if anything actually comes out. There’s red on the floor, it always comes back to red, why red, and it gathers around in his vision, slick along the white void below him. A part of Dick is glad he can’t move because he fears that if he were to even breathe, the void below would capture him and turn him white and twist his nothingness into something even less than all of it.

His lungs stutter and his eyes roll back into his head for a moment. For a brief second, he is gone in the bliss of blackness. It’s not for long though because the need to cough erupts out of him and he has to open his eyes and see what plague is clawing its way from his mouth. His jerking disturbs the void and Dick can feel the blood in his veins freeze because he’s not supposed to move. He’s not supposed to make a single sound or else it would get him but he’s just so dumb, he’s just so incompetent, and now the void knows he’s here, now the void is going to get him and he’s so scared.

He blinks four times. He counts in his head. Two, five, one, two. Dick doesn’t think that’s right. He isn’t sure.

The void is angry though. He can tell in the way the ground shakes and the colors scream at him. He wants to move away and cover his ears but his arms don’t exist anymore, how could he forget, how could he forget, and he feels his eyes burning like he’s on fire and his brain is also screaming at him now and there are hands on his shoulders and no, no, stop, please stop, he doesn’t want this, he never wanted any of this. He’s sorry. He’s sorry.

The void grasps him and pulls at him and Dick’s eyes are wide open and he wants to scream at the void’s face because he doesn’t know who they are, he doesn’t know where he is, and there’s no comfort in the cold, there’s no love or warmth in it’s embrace and he’s so tired and his chest hurts and he’s having trouble actually seeing anything now because he’s just scared of the dark and everything is getting quieter and doesn’t anyone have a nightlight he can use so he can fall asleep a little less scared?

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Bruce doesn’t know what exactly he was expecting when that waitress handed him a napkin. He doesn’t really know what he wanted to happen when he asked his children to split up and search for the lost one. Of course, the goal was to find the eldest, find Dick Grayson safe and sound and just doing something silly like back flips off a stairwell so Bruce could come and save him from embarrassing himself further. Okay, yes, Bruce knows exactly what he wanted to happen.

But this wasn’t it.

It wasn’t Mister Dower slyly implying that Bruce’s eldest son was a clone of “Brucie Wayne’s” habits. It wasn’t the news that the Thoreau sisters had left in a hurry. It wasn’t a bellboy directing him to a private room that had been left ajar. And it wasn’t walking into a pitch black study only to hear wet retching and rattling from the adjoining bathroom.

He’s bursting through the door before he’s had the time to process it all and he feels as if all the wind in his lungs have been knocked out because there he is. Here is Dick Grayson, his son, his eldest, convulsing, bleeding, vomiting, shaking, dying, alone.

It’s second nature, done without a thought, and Bruce is kneeling down, stripping himself of his jacket and folding it, taking Dick by the shoulders and turning him on his side and placing the folded jacket beneath his head. Dick’s eyes are rolling, unseeing, and his face twitches and jerks and it’s terrifying, and Bruce looks away to stare at his watch and counts and counts and counts.

It’s scarcely thirty seconds before the jerking stops and Dick goes stiff, like every single muscle in his body is clenched in anticipation.

“Bruce,” Jason begins, and he sounds unsure and out of place and Bruce curses at himself for having momentarily forgotten about him, “Holy shit.”

Bruce says nothing and continues to stare at his watch because he knows the seizure isn’t over, he prays it is but he knows it’s not, and Dick begins to convulse again and Bruce’s heart is beating so fast he isn’t sure if he can feel it anymore.

“The others are on their way,” Jason speaks up again. “I’m calling 911. What should I tell them?”

And usually Bruce is faster than this, better at processing, but it’s all so sudden and this is his son that’s laying in front of him, shaking and heaving in front of him, that it takes him a few seconds to come up with an answer. “Tell them,” he tries, mouth dry and god how much longer is this going to last? “Tell them that we need police and an ambulance for,” Bruce clears his throat; two minutes now, five becomes dangerous, “A possible assault and drug overdose.”

There’s lipstick smeared on Dick’s collar, his tie is undone, his belt buckle unclasped, pink indents on the sides of his jaw, lips tinted blue, and a mess of vomit splattered down his shirt. It smells sour and pungent and it’s the color of old brandy. Blood weeps from Dick’s hairline and Bruce startles himself with the thought that, had it not been for the note, Dick could’ve died and no one would have known.

No one would have known.

Finally the seizure stops and Bruce can feel his fingers trembling as he cradles his son’s head to fully rest against the tile flooring. Three minutes and fifteen seconds. Too close. Too close.

“Move! I demand to see Richard!”

“You can’t, not right now. Bruce is helping him but you have to stay out here.”

“Jason, what the hell happened to Dick?”

“Bruce thinks he got roofied. Whatever was given to him was too much.”

“Did… did anything happen?”

“I don’t know.”

“Todd, I swear to you, if you do not move this instant-”

Bruce can’t focus on their conversation anymore, too entranced by the way his son breathes. They’re short, shallow gasps, like he’s panting through a straw, and Bruce reaches out a hand to rub his eldest’s upper back. He doesn’t move from his position, kneeled firmly as if in prayer, and maybe it is like a prayer because he needs a miracle right now. Bruce needs some guidance, some reassurance, and he hasn’t prayed since his parents died, but a little part of him is sighing and repeating those long forgotten words over and over again.

Abraham, Issac, and Jacob; Sarah, Rebekkah, Leah, and Rachel.

Dick does not stir from where he lays, eyes flickering behind closed lids. Bruce thinks he’s conscious, the flighty rhythm of his heart giving his blankness away, but the stillness in which his son lays allows a vine of terror to eclipse around his heart.

Grant him a r’fu-ah sh’lei-mah, a complete recovery.

His mother used to whisper prayers into his ear when he was younger and sick, fever-ridden constantly and just so tired. She would sit by his bedside, hold his hand, and pray for him in the silence of his room. Bruce was too young to understand what it meant. Too young to really grasp the concept of salvation, of hope found in religion. Now that he’s gone so long without it, Bruce thinks he still doesn’t grasp its weight, but the familiar words roll around in his head and leave the tightness in his chest with company.

But the comfort is like a blanket draped over your head when you were a child, on some level convinced it could protect you from the monsters in your closet and the kidnappers that surely tap on your window. The monsters are real though, the kidnappers are grabbing at your feet, and Bruce can feel his heart pounding away with the realization that he truly could have lost Dick. That Bruce had been in the exact same room, in the same vicinity as his eldest when he was drugged. When he was… assaulted. Possibly. Maybe. Bruce clings to those uncertainties.

And he’s got ideas. Theories. Conclusions. A list of suspects.

With those, Bruce also has punishments in mind. Vengeance. Retribution. But the situation at hand is more pressing than the thoughts that bang against his skull.

Dick’s eyes fly open, a cough that sounds more like a gag jerking his body. His arms stagger against his sides, feet kicking out with the force of his hacking, and Bruce merely lets his hands hover. He wants to touch him, to ground Dick, but the hesitation in his actions leave him barren of any sort of presence. Dick keeps coughing, getting louder and more forceful with each measly breath he manages to suck in, and his lips are beginning to turn blue and his face a bright red and Bruce doesn’t know what to do right now, doesn’t know how to help because he’s so afraid to touch him, to help him, when all he’s done tonight is ignore him and let this whole thing happen because he’s a horrible father-

“Richard, stop it!”

And then Damian is falling to his knees beside Dick’s heaving body, also fumbling for an answer and scared and all the things Bruce feels right now.

“Stop it, Richard! Stop it right now!” Damian demands, but his orders fall on deaf ears because Dick won’t stop coughing and gasping and shaking and he’s not having another seizure but that’s what it looks like and then finally, Bruce reaches out a hand and holds his eldest still, willing for something, anything, to happen to get Dick to stop.

“Son,” he implores, practically begging, “Dick, you need to calm down, okay? I know you’re scared and confused right now, but everything is going to be fine. You’re going to be fine. Take a deep breath, Dick. Breathe.”

Finally, something seems to register for Dick because he’s craning his neck around, eyes wide and searching even as he continues to retch out his lungs. Bright blue eyes, beautiful and robin egg blue, catch Damian’s and Bruce can see recognition light up onto his face. The relief that Bruce had felt blossoming in his chest at the sight is quickly smothered when tears gather in Dick’s eyes, a weak sob wrenching its way in between coughs.

“Sorry, sorry,” Dick moans, delirious and broken. “Sorry, sorry, sorry.”

“Richard, breathe,” is all Damian says, reaching out to grab at one of Dick’s flailing hands. “Please.”

Bruce doesn’t know if Dick actually understood what Damian was saying, or if he even recognized any one of his brothers that stood around him, but one moment, Dick is retching up a lung, and the next, he’s silent and holding his breath. The coughing stops but Dick is going slightly purple in the face and before Bruce, Damian, anyone can do anything to get him to open his mouth again, Dick’s eyes roll up into the back of his head and he drifts.

His head thuds softly onto the white tile just as the paramedics arrive and Bruce thinks he might need an ambulance too with how quickly his heart beats and how hot the blood in his veins feel.

The rest is a blur.

~oOo~

Many things happen in the few hours that follow.

Dick is promptly swept away on a stretcher, paramedics checking pulse count, setting up an IV, and other things that anyone hardly has the mind to pay attention to. By then, the entire banquet knew something was wrong, along with a few reporters that whipped out their cameras and began snapping pictures in earnest.

In a move that is sure to get him on the front pages, Bruce snarls at a few of the reporters, threatening them in mannerisms that suggested he might just break their obnoxious cameras. Jason follows a similar pattern, actually reaching over and knocking away one of the invasive reporters when they got too close to the ambulance, and the youngest is not far off in doing the same before he is ushered away and into a waiting private car that would escort them to the hospital Dick was being taken to.

Only Bruce had been allowed to ride in the ambulance on the way over, and the four brothers had sat in tense silence during the ten minute drive. Tim had been almost absurdly quiet during the entire ordeal, typing away at his phone and absently chewing on one of his fingernails. No one comments on the bad habit, all of them guilty of doing something in a similar fashion, and when they arrive at the entrance, Bruce meets them there where he tells them that, for now, Dick appears to be mostly fine.

His vomit and blood were being tested at the moment for a tox-screening, a toxicologist named Dr.Ruth informing them that Dick wasn’t in life-threatening danger anymore. The “anymore” bit startles them all and it is explained to them that, because Dick appeared to have eaten nothing that night and drank nothing but champagne, there was little else in his system to digest whatever drug was given to him. It all went straight into his nervous system, which is what caused the seizure.

Bruce manages to secure a larger medical room for all five of them to squeeze into and forty minutes later, Dr.Ruth returns with a clipboard in tow. Results are in.

“Mister Wayne,” she begins, making sure to keep an even gaze with the older man, “You said you believed that Richard may have been purposely drugged tonight?”

Bruce nods.

“Is Richard taking any drugs right now? Recreational or otherwise?”

The implication sends a strange stab of anger through Bruce, rising up from his seat to challenge the doctor about her accusations. “Richard has never-”

“Actually,” Tim interrupts, finally speaking, “he does.”

Bruce looks over, shock peppering his face through the way his mouth twitches and his jaw clenches.

Tim rushes to defend himself. “No, wait, what I mean is that Richard takes a prescription. He’s not doing, like, hard crack or something like that.” He holds up his phone as if it contains every single answer to life. “Cass- our sister- told me that Richard didn’t take his anxiety medication this morning. He took it before going to the banquet tonight.”

“Do you know what he was prescribed?” Dr.Ruth asks, scanning through something on one of the papers.

Tim checks his phone again. “Uh, Zoloft. 40 milligrams once a day.”

“Okay,” she hums to herself, satisfied with the answer. “That explains it then.”

She clicks her pen, setting down her clipboard and turning to face all five of them in the room. “Richard’s screening came back just a few minutes ago, but there were a few discrepancies that didn’t match up exactly. From what the labs tested, Richard was given a dosage of about 250 milligrams of ketamine, on which he overdosed, but an additional drug was also found in his blood and from what you said, young man, it would appear to be Zoloft. That medication, in addition to not eating anything and consuming some alcohol, was what caused such a bad reaction.”

She glances behind her again, checking her clipboard. “Now, Mister Wayne,” she addresses Bruce, “In your witness statement, you said that Richard appeared to be having hallucinations?”

“I don’t believe he knew we were there with him.”

Dr.Ruth nods. “Victims of large overdoses on ketamine typically experience hallucinations, similar to a bad LSD trip or otherwise. Sight and sound become warped and the person under the influence often doesn’t understand what’s going on around them.”

“What about,” Duke begins, nervous and quiet, “What about the, um, the other test? Did- Is Dick okay?”

The doctor smiles, happy to give fortunate news. “Yes, the test results came back negative. Other than a few scratch marks on his face which have been cleaned, Richard is fine.”

A collective breath releases over the room. Dick was going to be okay.

“Once the nurses have finished checking your son over, you’re free to take him home,” Dr.Ruth finishes, collecting her things. “Someone will be with you shortly to escort you to him.”

“Wait,” Jason calls out, “That’s it? You’re just going to send him away?”

The doctor looks back at him, sympathy lining her sad smile. “Well, there’s not much else we can do. Keep an eye on him, make sure he drinks plenty of fluids and try to give Richard some dry foods. If anything happens or Richard’s condition worsens at all, please bring him back and we’ll do what we can.”

And with that, Dr.Ruth opens the door and leaves.

~oOo~

The nurses tell them that Dick needs to stay for an additional hour or so, just until he’s coherent enough to answer some well-being questions and to finish the IV bags they’ve given him. All five of them have managed to cram themselves into Dick’s small room, the man in question awake but quiet. He’s coherent enough that he seems to recognize them all individually, and no longer seems to be hallucinating, but he wears a grimace that tells of discomfort. Dick has yet to say anything since waking up.

His eyes are distant, staring listlessly towards the ceiling and trailing from light to light. Bruce is sure the action is somewhat painful, but he doesn’t make a move to distract his son from whatever he’s thinking.

It’s been a long night, for all of them really, but none as long as the night Dick Grayson has had. Bruce is told that Dick spoke in private with one of the nurses and an assisting officer about some of the things that happened during the banquet. Bruce doesn’t pry though. He knows better than to go sticking his nose into something so fresh, something so invasive. He trusts that Dick will speak when he’s ready.

Whenever that is.

There’s a knock at the door before Dr.Ruth walks in again, hands folded neatly in front of her as she enters. There’s no clipboard with her and a lightness in her posture is telling of good news.

“You’re all clear,” she says warmly, stepping up closely to Dick’s cot. “I just need you to sign some release forms and you’ll be on your way. Do you have any questions for me?”

She directs the question towards Dick, whose gaze travels slowly over to the doctor. He licks his lips twice before asking, “What do I need to do after I leave?”

“Hydrate,” she answers, mentally going through a checklist. “Lots of fluids. The charcoal is going to absorb a fair amount of liquid in your system, so keep an eye out for water consumption and bowel movements.”

“What… what about medication?”

She frowns at that, lips pulling down slightly. “Well,” she starts, “I would suggest keeping away from them for the next twenty-four hours. Are you in pain? Do you feel like you need something for it?”

Dick is quick to shake his head. It jostles him and he closes his eyes briefly, be it from pain or disorientation is something indiscernible. “No, no. Not hurt or anything. I take some, uh, prescriptions though. From my psychiatrist. Everyday.”

“I see.” Dr.Ruth is quiet for a moment before, “Try to wait as long as possible. If you absolutely need to, go ahead and take them but be careful. You won’t be in any serious danger but it’s always better to be cautious after an overdose.” She turns to Bruce then. “He’ll need to be somewhat monitored over the next few days. It’s not very common, but symptoms can linger.”

After another pause in which no one speaks up, Dr.Ruth smiles and bows her head slightly. “I’ll have someone bring those papers by soon. Tell one of the nurses if you’re having trouble walking, Richard, and we can get a wheelchair brought to you. Have a good evening, gentlemen.”

No one continues to make a sound as Bruce fills out the paperwork, insisting that a wheelchair be brought when Dick only manages to take a few steps before his legs begin to shake. Dick makes no comment on it, only half-heartedly glaring at Bruce as he sat down heavily into the plastic seat. The walk out of the hospital is quiet too, Duke along the way muttering that he was going back to his cousin’s place for the night. Alfred meets the remaining boys at the front, leaning forwards to bring Dick into a small hug before releasing him and helping Dick get into the car he brought.

When Damian hands Dick a water bottle, Dick accepts it silently, lightly patting his little brother’s hand before taking a singular sip from the bottle. He doesn’t drink from it again.

When they arrive at the Manor, Jason is the first one moving and is quick to pull out the ramp they have for when Barbara visits. Dick is tense as they roll him into the Manor, finally putting his foot down when Bruce suggests that one of them carry him up to his bedroom. It’s a slow process and it twists Bruce’s heart in a way he can’t quite describe as he watches his eldest struggle up the flight of stairs, using both the railing and Damian as meager supports.

Dick pushes open the door to his dark room and makes no comment when everyone follows him in. He all but collapses onto his bed, exhausted. They all just simply breathe for a minute, taking the time to truly process everything that’s happened that night. Somewhere in the Manor, a bell tolls and the electric clock on Dick’s nightstand reads two in the morning. They’re all still in their suits, still in their tight dress shoes, and nothing seems quite real yet. The black out curtains are clasped together tightly, as if their belief in maintaining the illusion and reality of darkness is all that’s keeping the peace.

Damian is the first one to move this time, peeling off his jacket and kicking off his shoes to sit beside Dick’s sprawled form. They don’t exchange words, but Dick shifts and allows Damian to get closer, a hand reaching up to finally destroy the carefully combed locks of hair, stiff with gel and pomade. Dick sighs and this release is what prompts the others to move as well, Jason plopping himself at the foot of the bed to lean against one of the banisters, Tim choosing to sit on the floor and rest his head against the side of the bed frame, and Bruce pulling a chair closer to be within reaching distance of Dick.

It’s quiet, calm, and the proximity is just enough to be reassuring. Comforting in a way that doesn’t demand physical touch but soothing enough to provide warmth. It’s nice.

Dick speaks first. It’s an apology.

“I wanted this to be a family night, you know?” he confesses into the stillness. “I didn’t mean for… any of this to happen.”

“We know, Dick,” Tim says, equally as quiet. “It wasn’t your fault.”

There is no response to that.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jason asks, voice gruff but kind. Gentle in a way that betrays his outward appearance.

“I don’t know,” Dick says. “I don’t know.”

“That’s okay,” is all Jason responds, easy and light. The dark hides many secrets. He will not be the one to unearth them.

It goes back to silence after that and soon enough, Dick’s breaths are even and his eyes are closed. Slowly, the boys disappear one by one back to their rooms, allowing themselves to recover as well from the experience. Damian falls asleep by Dick’s side and Bruce tenderly picks him up, cradling the boy’s head onto his shoulder, and carrying him to his own room.

When Bruce returns, Dick is sitting up and staring at him. He’s nervous. Bruce takes a deep breath in for his own nerves and sits back down into the seat. They stare at each other for a long time, the eye contact neither uncomfortable nor helpful. It’s a waiting game, one that doesn’t need to happen, and Bruce breathes in again.

“How are you, son?” he asks, gaze heavy as he takes in Dick’s haggard appearance. The hospital had given him a scrub shirt to replace the one he had thrown up on and the texture crinkles as Dick shifts in place. His eyes go back to wandering around, drifting from Bruce’s face to the comforter around his legs.

“I’m tired,” Dick whispers, hands flexing and clenching. “And a little freaked out,” he adds, eyes flickering to Bruce’s and then darting away again. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been more careful. I… I messed up.”

Bruce sighs, slowly and deliberately telegraphing his movements as he reaches out to place a hand over Dick’s fidgeting one. Dick is still tense, hand clenching into a fist as Bruce just lets the warmth of his palm linger.

“You did nothing wrong,” Bruce begins. Pauses. Backtracks. “Everything that happened tonight wasn’t your fault. Whoever did this… that’s their fault. That’s their doing. Not yours. Never yours.”

“How did you find me?” Dick asks, deflecting. He’s always been good at that.

“I was given a note.” The napkin had been taken away as evidence earlier. The phantom hot weight of it still burns a hole in Bruce’s coat pocket. “It told me to find you.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know.” Pause. “I’m glad they did though. I was… worried. Worried of what had happened to you. Dick, look at me please.”

Instantly, Dick’s eyes snap to his and again, Bruce’s heart twists in a way he can’t describe. Sadness? Resentment? Melancholy? Regret? He doesn’t know.

“I’m sorry I let that happen to you,” he says firmly, reaching out with both hands to grasp at Dick’s. He grips them tightly, holding them together like they’re praying. This is now twice in over a decade. “I am so sorry, Dick. I wasn’t there when you needed me, but I’m trying to be better. I want to be a better father to you, son. You mean more to me than you will ever know and the thought of losing you scares me.”

Dick nods sharply, once, twice, and his face falls into apathy as he processes what Bruce has said. He doesn’t reach out to hold Bruce’s hands as well, but the fact that he hasn’t removed them is enough to reassure Bruce that he’s doing at least one thing right.

“It,” Dick says, voice barely a whisper, “It scares me too. Losing you. Losing anyone. Dying.”

He swallows audibly and sweat trickles down his brow. Bruce wants to insist that Dick go back to sleep or at least drink some more water, but he refrains from doing so, too afraid to remove his hands lest he lose Dick all over again.

“When I was...” Dick trails off, swallowing again. “While I was hallucinating,” he restarts, “I saw, no, uh, I thought I saw a lot of things.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, buddy,” Bruce reminds him, tapping his index across Dick’s knuckles. “It can wait.”

Dick shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. I’m okay.” His voice cracks slightly as he says that. Bruce ignores it and Dick seems grateful.

“I thought I was dying again,” he rushes out, as if to force the words before he can take it back. “All these bad things, things from the past that I didn’t want to remember, were suddenly all happening again and I-I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know where I was, what was happening, who I was with half the time, and I couldn’t move, Bruce. I couldn’t move and it all just happened.

They wouldn’t stop touching me and it scared me. I was terrified and then suddenly I was alone and I really thought I had died. I thought that I had died and then Damian was there and-and I thought he had died again and I couldn’t, couldn’t handle that, Bruce.”

“Dick, breathe. Breathe. Damian is safe. You’re safe. Breathe in for me, buddy, that’s it. You’re okay. I promise.”

Dick nods again as if trying to convince himself that he’s safe now. That he’s home and everything is okay and there are no ghostly hands that cover and touch him. He tries, but he’s tired. The fear rests idle and Dick can feel it scratching at his throat. It’s been six hours hours since everything happened. Only six.

“I think the worst part,” Dick admits, strained and hushed, “was that I was alone.”

Bruce squeezes his son’s hands together, the pressure meant to be grounding. “I’m sorry,” he says, meaning it with everything he has.

Dick only shrugs his shoulders, a shuddering breath escaping him. He looks at his father’s hands, the gnarled knuckles and thin white scars that grasp his own destroyed fingers. The contrast of the touch compared to the appearance is comforting in a way that reminds Dick of their early days as Batman and Robin. Before Nightwing. Before Agent 37. Before everything else. It is a testament to their struggles, their crooked fingers and half formed nails from broken bones and relentless pursuit. Their hands hold the weight of a thousand punishments, twice more punches, and countless conflicts and battles.

Their hands are the evidence of their survival though. Their victories against death.

Two thin stitches that hold together the cut just below his hairline are another piece of the evidence. Another testimony to Dick’s endeavor for endurance against the odds. There will be a pink scar to commemorate tonight, and in a year or so, there will be nothing left but a faint white line.

Tomorrow, Dick will wake up, eat breakfast, and carry on about his day. It will be normal because it has to be. There is no other way to move forward, and Dick will swallow his pills with the same grimace and remembrance of hot metal and red lips. Maybe in a week, he’ll tell his therapist about tonight and they’ll suggest another coping strategy that Dick’s already tried but he’ll try again because he has to.

For now though, in the silence of his childhood room, decorated with pictures of the circus and framed photos of his found family, with black out curtains that never move to let the light of day peer through and a noisy vent that sometimes drips from condensation; for now, Dick can indulge in his fears and his worries as Bruce holds his hands.

There will be police reports, prosecutions, scandals, interviews, testimonies, and so much more later. Right now though. Right now, Dick lets himself breathe and accept the fact that things aren’t fine and that he needs help. Dick lets himself squeeze his father’s hands and blink away tears, finding relief in their hold.

He’s not okay, but tomorrow he will be. He has to be.

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