#HAHA SORRY FOR BEING GONE GUYS....

[stevens-pastrami-sandwich]

SHRRGFFFF... OUUUUUEUEUUUUUU PROFESSOR BOXLEITNER NOOO DONT CRY WAAHH anyways og under the cut

[a-spacecadet]

✨ Morning Routine ✨

-

The girls also had a sleepover and also woke up ✨beautiful✨ ✨flawless✨ and ✨gorgeous✨

Companion piece to my other drawing of the boys~

[remyfire]

You rotten scoundrel!!! I just read your fanfic “Like a Silent Song” and I LOVED IT SO MUCH!!! YOU SCOUNDREL!!! You write Radar so good, how DARE you!!!

I am attacked by insults and praise at every angle and do not know which to believe!!!! /j

I'm so glad you enjoyed it! ;v; I'm still not entirely confident in his voice, so hearing you say you thought it worked well means a lot to me. Thank you so much!!

[rrottentothecores]

i watch that show big brother (for the strategy dammit!!!!!!!!!) and there’s these two players, america & cory, that flirt and cuddle all the time and i love that but i’m mentioning it bc neither of them want to fuck on camera so they have strict boundaries but they talk about crossing those boundaries a Lot. specifically america, who will interrupt a conversation just to whisper “spit in my mouth” “i can be on top if you want” in his ear and it is!!!! so sexy to watch lmaooo last night they slept in the same bed and she asked him if they could spoon and he sighed and asked if she wanted to be the big spoon and then dutifully turned around so she could spoon him. they were talking game and she goes “i mean fuck me i guess” and he goes “okay” and then she got really excited and he goes “you cannot win head of household if we had a private room it would be dangerous” IM.

she got wasted and laid on top of him and he was being so respectful of her and meanwhile she is pulling her entire dress up her body to her waist and wrapping her legs around him and this nerdy ass 21 year old is laying there & dying inside while this super hot girl is half naked on him and asking him to choke her, he is the world’s strongest soldier okay i love them

she is fighting demons in that last one and those demons are this paul dano-michael cera love child mfer’s slowly loosening grip on his v card aksjs she told him “piss on me” while they were in a room with other people and he goes “no way! wowza!” and their friend overhead and asked why the fuck he said the word “wowza.” but then she whispered it to him AGAIN later (i think bc she really enjoyed his first reaction lol) and he gives a big ole goofy grin

[groovysins]

I think it's time .

[bbluefllame]

𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 .ᐟ

synopsis: college au texts (& small hcs) with the girls + tropes<3

characters: jinx, vi, caitlyn, sevika

notes: SHE'S BACKKKKK!!! sorry for being gone for so long #igotintoleagueoflegends(thegame.), regular posting will be back !! other than that, sevikas part was my fave bless.

vi. + fake dating (also biker! vi)

- how this whole fake dating thing started was through a hook up actually!!

- both of you got shitfaced & you two were already friends, so after vi saw Maddie with caitlyn she was like "nah fuck it I'm gonna get her back!!" (classic, sigh.)

- this is random, but she's actually a really good cook (in my head) and she's probably made some fire meals 4 you

- for some reason.. she gives me xxxtentacion listener like she loves "I don't even speak Spanish lol" in this au but when she's emo over cait, bring out the sad! and shit like that 😭

- her ass would be on the ground staring at the ceiling, sad! blasting, and her roommate would be like SHUT THAT SHIT DOWN!!!!!

- avid marvel rivals player, loves luna snow no questions.

- don't ask why she texts like that she js does 😔

- she goes "this is for you" before scoring in a game and trips while running and falls on her face instead😭

- she is nawt NAWT!! a womanizer(?) fuckgirl(is that the female equivalent?????) idgaf what ppl say, sure she flirts occasionally but she's super loyal if she's in a rs, she's an awesome gf !!! we love vi in this household!!!!

jinx. + childhood bsfs 2 lovers

- matching pfps & bios on tiktok and insta I'm telling u. it'd be smth like "sniper, sniper, sniper" then "wifey, wifey, wifey"

- random hc cs yay, vi probably accidentally killed her pet hamster when they were kids and you had to comfort her cs her ass was crying for HOURRSSSS. there was a funeral for it with a tiny casket. (it died cs of the microwave beeping when vi's instant noodles were done)

- one of those ppl who gets high grades without trying, don't ask her grade unless you wanna feel hurt cs she js says "98" while being hungover.

- her music taste is so all over the place but I'm so certain she sticks to loud music!! she gets sleepy if it's calm😭

- engineering major no doubt abt it

- doesn't know how to cook but not cs she can't, it's bcs she doesn't want to

- she probably asked you out in a cutesy way like imagine after ur bday you're watching the stars tg and she's like staring at you w hearts in her eyes and she js says "I love you" and you're like "awww I love you too!!" cs ur bsfs, but she then repeats it "no like I LOVE you" and ur like woah.. then u start to makeout or whatever w stars in the bg, end scene!!

- genuinely the best gift giver ever, everything's homemade and made w love 🙏🙏 i lauv her sm😔😔

caitlyn. + academic rivals (+ forced proximity)

first pic isn't rlly connected to the rest, js to show their rs

- after the project you two actually got alot closer, you could even say FRIENDS 🤯, there is still competition but it isn't like as bad as before, it's more so "Haha, I got higher." "wtvvv 🙄 I'll buy u ice cream 😔"

- sevika was the prof btw, she wanted to fuck with u guys 🙏

- archer cait. that's all I gotta say. (also equestrian u can't tell me other wise)

- HEAR ME OUT! imagine she invites you to her archery training & during it ur like, "Can I try?" she says alright and then when you're holding the bow she goes behind you and starts fixing how ur holding it, then she wraps a hand around ur waist and brushes it off as "oh your posture was incorrect" when she lets go.

- moving on, I imagine her having a doll collection like don't ask why but she collects monster high dolls. (please ask her about every single doll, she'll proudly infodump)

- when u get closer to her she's alot less formal, its very cutie of her !!!

- has a fitness tiktok account and she drinks apple cider vinegar daily (NASTYYYY IDGAF IF ITS HEALTHY!!!!).

- modern au cait is like a cat in my head, idk she's js so cutie in it please give her love that's it😔

sevika. + grumpy x sunshine (professor! sevika)

- her students try to tease her when she smiles at your notes, she shuts them down so fast it's scary. her expression goes from 😊 to 🤨, then they stfu and go to their seat.

- only person who teases her and gets away with it is jinx I fear.

- you and sevika have a nightly routine of dancing together (she's so soft w u don't play w me.) her fave song to play is love by Keyshia Cole (ARGUFJWHFIWJ 😭😭😭😭😭)

- regular gym goer, she has an insta she barely posts on besides the occasional video of her hitting a new record while her students comment "omg MISS SEVIKA!!!!!" then she blocks them when she sees the notif.

- doesn't trust anyone to cut her hair besides you cs apparently you js do it better, her words, not mine! 🤷‍♀️

- one of those, mean to everyone besides you, types (minus isha and jinx cs those r FAM!)

- loves reading idk I js get that vibe from her, after a long day, she opens her kindle (that she got from you as a bday gift) and relaxes.

- first time her students saw you, they glanced at both of you like a million times before it registered you were together, cs how'd she end up with such a sweet cutie!!

- they ask her a billion questions and she's like "I don't talk about my personal life, end of story."

- she's trying to quit smoking for u trust 😞 it's js hard but she's getting there!!

- she loves u so dearly please never let go of her.😔😔

sevikas part was too long I'm sorry 😭 ...there were gonna be a couple NSFW hcs for her but 5 minutes after I wrote them I got food poisoning so I was like "I'll die if I post them."😔😔 anws hope u liked these

[occamstfs]

Talismen III: Sorry For The Backwash

A gym crush on Simon gone wrong leads Tim to get in way over his head in the pursuit of gains and satisfaction; Soon enough the whole gym finds themselves wanting.

Okay I went a little crazy with this one, steamy muscle growth, hair growth, and corruption galore- Tim really spreads the love haha! It’s about the length of Talismen Beginnings. Hope you enjoy this plot advancing chapter, was quite fun to write! Like previously, the penultimate poll will drop on Sunday the 15th! -Occam! 

And so Simon finally arrives at the gym. Elsewhere in town Nicky sends an asshole careening towards the discovery of a better self, and perhaps launches his friend into shoes a few sizes larger and a wolverine eared beanie before heading off to grab some coffee. Back at the gym his boyfriend is never too far from the front of Simon’s slow plodding mind, after sending one last selfie to entice his beau, he puts down his affection to finally pick up some weights. 

Sandwiched in between a Jamba Juice and a bookstore, Simon ignores the static that fills his mind as almost saccharine familiarity bats away the eerie discomfort that he’s never actually been here before. He finds serenity as set to getting his blood pumping, delighting in the feeling of burning strain as with each thrust his new body finds itself more adept at exercise. In no time at all he moves about the gym with the expert precision and graceful ease that sculpting such an impressive form would require. His almost vacant eyes don’t notice the hungry stare of a nearby twink who has been shadowing him from the second he walked in. 

It’s not that Timothy is leering at the beyond sexy man, I mean how could anyone avoid staring, er, appreciating such an impressive form- The fact that Tim continues to happenstance choose machines directly next to the titan is pure coincidence and any charge that he’s trying to catch the man’s eye are pure slander. The blush that burns across his face the first time Simon’s eyes land on him is perhaps more evidential. 

The jock scratches the back of his head as he addresses the twink, exposing a sweaty pit that certainly does not help with Tim’s now quivering knees, “Hey uhhh lil guy, I think I forgot my water at home huhuh!” Tim laughs alongside the man though he certainly doesn’t notice as he continues on with his ask, “would you mind if I borrowed yours?” Tim’s eyes widen with fear as his neck locks trying to decide if he should nod in the affirmative or shake to suggest he’d not mind anything that the hunk would ask of him. Nor does it help that he’s unable to get a full word out. Simon stares, mouth agog as the twink stumbles through a few giggly syllables, “Ah ha! Weluhm, I heek!” 

Giving up on communicating like a human being, he averts his eyes shyly and raises his hydroflask. Simon takes it rougher than he intended and Tim promptly forces his hands to his crotch to adjust shorts and hide his excitement before meekly returning to stare at labored gulps and the few trailing droplets of water that escape and spill down into Simon’s sweaty beard. Timothy almost vibrates from the need to be topped by the man standing above him, totally unaware that the titan in question has eyes for his boyfriend alone. 

Delivering the jug of water back, Simon quickly thanks the twink and tries to joke, “Thanks little bro! My uhh, Nicky swears I’d forget my hat if it weren’t screwed on huhuh!” He pauses and scratches at his stubble, “Or no that’s not the joke? Uh-” He crosses his arms and half-heartedly flexes as he loses himself in labored thought, trying to remember how it goes.

In the meantime Tim takes the unintended hint that Simon’s taken and sighs to himself. He did figure that the man was too good to be true, c’est la vie- In the meantime, while his flask is open he may as well hydrate himself. Raising it to his lips he watches Simon quiet a burp and wipe his lip, “Oh uhh, sorry for the backwash dude-” This almost makes him race to drink it even quicker. No time to introspect however for as soon as it spills onto his tongue, Tim’s eyes dilate. The twink almost chokes from the speed at which he struggles to down more water than one should mid-workout. 

Never before now has the small man attempted to chug something at this rate, or at all really, though driven by lusty thoughts and burning delight as it soars down his throat he is suddenly swallowing like the best of them. His chest tightens and his stomach burns as he finally gasps for air, coughing up water and doing his best to not vom. Immediately concerned, Simon puts his meaty hands on the small man’s shoulders, sending a shiver down his spine as the twink grits his teeth and covers his mouth to quiet a moan. 

His heart races and his breathing accelerates as something alien begins to build within him. Tim can’t hear Simon’s worried questions as pressure begins to pound and he tries to stand. He feels a compulsion to move, to grow. Exactly like Nicky’s boyfriend mindlessly doing pushups on the cold ground, Tim feels compelled beyond reason to work out the energy that is beginning to build in his veins. 

Never one to seriously weight train he doesn’t know why or how he ends up on a bench press, but when his bleary eyes turn to see Simon loading weights on he’s filled with a drive greater than he could understand. “Are you sure you can handle this much lil guy?” Lil Guy. Tim grimaces as he feels his veins bulge in response. It matters not if it's from irritation or lust. He can do this. He can do way more than this. His soft hands grasp the iron bar and raise it. Despite his confidence however, just as soon it leaves the rack it comes crashing down, wont to heed the ever-persuasive call of gravity. 

Just before Simon has the chance to spot him, Tim calls the grunt off, groaning under the weight “I can- do IT” Simon gasps as he sees the bar immediately begin to rise. The man’s stick thin arms shake with effort as they raise it high enough to return the weight. When Simon goes to pull it back and remove weight he sees rage in Tim’s eyes and hesitates. Timothy then forces another rep, veins bulge up his neck as Simon unmistakably sees new muscle begin to bulge larger under the twink’s shirt. He forces it into the air once more and with a grunt the bar bounces higher.

There’s the sound of fabric beginning to tear as a shirt that was chosen to show off his lithe form cannot contain the required pecs that this bench press demands. Each impossible repetition packs more meat onto his body. Simon gives tips to the newbie and smiles as he sees the bar rapidly grow more stable, bony arms suddenly no longer left out as small biceps peak and struggle to follow the technique laid out by the clearly experienced jock.

After arbitrarily doing enough at the bench press, without a word Tim sets the bar back on the rack and wanders over to free weights. Simon quickly dismantles the weight left on and wipes down the bench, proud of how much of a sweat his apparent lil trainee has already worked up. By the time he makes it to observe Timothy’s corner of the gym he again sees the man trying to bite way over his level, though once more before he can intervene he sees the impossible. 

Tim takes a swig of his water and his arms grow meatier, sending tears up the already tight sleeves. Jaw clenched, he curls probably the heaviest weight he’s ever lifted as if it were nothing, with a grunt he does it again, and again. Simon grins as he sees the man's technique improve without a word, the strained sleeves on his mini-tee shred to nothing as they simply cannot contain the power Tim now holds within himself.

“Dude! That’s killer!” addressed by Simon directly, awareness returns to Tim’s eyes and the weight clatters to the floor, thankfully missing his feet as he yelps. Simon quickly rushes over clicking his tongue, “Ah you can’t be doing that bro haha! Clearly got a lot to learn about gym etiquette eh? Huhuh!” He puts the weights back up and pats Tim on the back. Staring up at the man Tim feels the need to be more rising once more, his attention goes to his flask and his mouth feels dry. Thirst controlling him he goes to drink only to find it already empty.

Simon nods and apologizes for drinking so much earlier, “Ah man, guess that’s as good a sign as any to call it huh?” Tim’s heart skips a beat as an almost existential fear fills him at the idea that Simon was about to leave him. As if he were on the precipice of losing it all. “Wait! Would you um, mind if you showed me a few more tips tomorrow?” Simon tilts his head and Tim hungrily waits for his answer, a red tinge hiding in his eyes that Simon’s far too distracted to notice. Grinning he starts to nod, “Y’know I always thought I’d be a good teacher huhuh! I’ll be in pretty early tomorrow so you just come say hi and we’ll get goin!” 

With that he pats the twink-no-more on the back and congratulates him on the hustle, “Great work today Tom! I swear you look fuckin’ massive with this pump! You should take a few to check yourself out dude!” Blankly smiling, unaware as Tim slightly glowers at being called the wrong name, he ruffles the shorter man’s hair and then grabs his gym bag to head home, “See you tomorrow lil dude!” Tim smiles and starts to say farewell though Simon’s already halfway gone by the time he reopens his eyes. Taking a second to pout all anxieties and fears fall away as he turns to see his new reflection.

His expression drops as he realizes his shirt has totally been discarded at some point during his pump-fueled fugue state. Taking in the new power that writhes and flexes underneath his skin, his fingers trace abs and follow veins as before cupping his powerful pecs, almost burning hot enough to steam his sweat. He tries to swallow but comes short as his dry mouth and impossible thirst remains. He twitches and his eyes shift red as the only recourse is more than clear. He needs more.

The next morning Tim drives to the gym before it opens to sit and wait for Simon to arrive. Every so often he turns on his windshield wipers to remove condensation accrued from his passive body heat alone. Eventually when he sees the brute jogging up with his gym bag in tow Tim quickly springs to action to force a fake meet-cute. He knows the jock’s taken but can’t blame a guy for trying. 

Counting on Simon’s general lack of awareness he races to hide just out of sight and bump into his new trainer as he rounds the corner. Without a hitch he successfully bumps into the shirtless man and is rewarded by getting the behemoth’s sweat all over his even skimpier gym clothes. Simon, thinking nothing ill of this must be accident, remains happily unaware of any untoward motivation from his new trainee. Already grinning at the prospect of working out, he just reaches out and ruffles the man’s hair again, “Gotta watch where you’re goin’ little guy huhuh!” 

Tim in turn babbles off a good-morning as he is struck woozy from such close proximity to the man, his b.o. easily more than clouding his mind. Barely able to stay his tongue from licking the sweat off of Simon, Tim’s unrelenting thirst compels him to offer the beast another drink from his hydroflask. Like a dog showing his owner a present, Simon quickly goes to grab his own water bottle, almost tearing off his pants as the bottle is attached by a carabiner. With a laugh he explains, “Thank ya dude! But after I told him about yesterday Nicky made sure I’d not forget huhuh! He was so worried that I’d be dehydrated and all. Little worryworm, or- Uh? Worrywart?” Simon laughs and shakes off the brief confusion and just rubs the water bottle gently, thinking about his lover.

Timothy rolls his eyes, jealousy breaking him from his musk-based trance, “Okay! Whatever- Shall we get started then?” Simon returns his attention to the man in front of him and begins to escort him inside. Throwing an arm across the smaller man’s shoulders he explains his plans for their workout today. Tim hears none of it however as he instead zeroes in on the sweat dripping down his back. The newly made twunk grunts and stretches his neck as he feels his traps cramp under the weight and wet of Simon’s arm.

Feeling sweat drip from Simon’s exposed pit down his right arm, Tim grimaces as suddenly his body pulls that direction. With a glance he sees it hang bulkier, thicker. Tim can’t hide the glee painted across his face as he realizes even proximity is enough for him to parasitize growth from the dreamboat he apparently isn’t to have. Simon looks down perplexed as he feels Tim grab at his calloused hand and rub his arm down his back, smirking and twitching as he does so. “Uhh Tim?” A moment later he grunts and stretches, his back widens, straining his shirt. 

Simon’s used to being confused so he doesn’t try to make sense as his new trainee suddenly shoots up half a foot in height, his midriff exposed as his arms stretch longer, muscle fibers straining before pulsing to remain as thick as they were before they sprouted. The jock pauses and closes his eyes as despite his best efforts, he sees what happens and something in the back of his mind knows he has seen it before. Tim, in between basking in his new power and languishing in the sensual growth still happening across his body grabs a clearly sweat stained towel from Simon’s bag and ties it around his waist, hoping to spread growth to his hitherto neglected glutes and thighs.

When Simon indeed returns to awareness, shaking off his stupor he see’s just that. Now supported on tree-trunk thighs he barely needs to angle down to make eye contact with his trainee. When he sees the man’s cock pulse through his gym shorts he purses his lips as he for the first time realizes that his trainee might be into him. Not that that’s a rarity of course, he’s quite the prize.

The quickest glance towards Tim’s eyes makes it more than clear that he may have something a little darker than your average crush. There is something deep, a hunger for something greater. Simon’s usual confidence wavers, briefly concerned about his client’s conflict of interest. He did promise to help with this session though. Chewing on his cheek, Simon fights against better judgment to stick to his word, opting to help as promised. Getting started he sets to lead the man who increasingly looks like he doesn’t need help over to the free weights.

In no time at all Simon watches as Tim works up a pump greater than any he’s ever seen, baring his own of course. He struggles to offer feedback as the should-be twink increasingly feels the need to butt heads, to peacock rather than try to train. When Simon sees red flashes in the man’s eyes, alarms once more begin to go off in the back of his head, but then his trainee surges just that much larger, his pumped arms bulge that much bigger, and he is instead distracted by how quickly his student seems to be advancing. “Guess I can’t call ya little dude any more huh?”

Tim smirks and flexes at his trainer, biting his tongue as everything within him feels the need to lob pick up lines at him. His arms tense as he barely stops himself from simply pouncing on the man, to do everything within his increased power to seize his fountain of growth forevermore. He clears his throat and ignores how off he sounds, his sing-songy performative pitch replaced by a harsh wolfish baritone, “Yo bro, not to pry- cause I know you got your little bitch, er- boyfriend. But-" When Tim calls Nicky a bitch Simon suddenly shifts deathly serious "Can you just get to the point Tim.” 

The new jock averts his eyes, annoyed at being interrupted though knowing that he is not the one with the power here, “Look I’m just sayin-” he goes to grab Simon’s hand, “I’m sure he’d understand if you wanted to have a little fun.” Feeling Simon’s sweaty hand grasped, he shivers as new calluses develop on his own. His kindly trainer almost grimaces at his advances and pulls away before growth can continue to pile on. Simon purses his lips and looks away, “Look, uhh- I’m not so sure we’re a great match. But, uhh-” Tim watches gears slowly turn as Simon struggles for an eloquent way to effectively dump him, “But what.”

Tim’s eyes narrow as if he’s readying to strike, his thoughts race as everything in him suddenly goes on alert. Chords entirely cut to the twink he once was, he feels Simon is the only tether towards further growth, towards becoming more of who he must be. When he sees the generally jovial man sigh and go for a sip of water to give him time to gather thoughts, Tim’s defcon-one strategy becomes clear. Seeing Simon start to pull away he makes up his mind. If he’s going to lose access then he must get as much as he can right now. 

His hand goes to curl into a fist and he swings, not at Simon of course, but the container of nectar he holds to his lips. Hurt beyond measure Simon watches as his new bottle spills all over the avaricious body-builder. His mouth is open but he clearly makes no further effort to drink it as it rains down mostly onto his chest. Tim falls to the floor and his hands shake as he rubs the water into his rapidly bulging, pounding pecs. Simon stares rapt with judgement as the man’s muscular chest bursts free from a shirt that was already painted on.

Individual muscle fibres pulse and expand as he convulses on the floor. His shoulder awkwardly forces itself upward as growth enacts itself across his body in swathes disparate and seemingly painful. Despite the nigh assault, Simon immediately abandons everything to kneel down and help the man as his body contorts and writhes, arms stretching and building unevenly as deeper grunts issue forth from a widening throat. Red light shines through eyes clamped shut and drool drips from clenched teeth.

After a few minutes of heaving breaths and impossible expansion, Tim eventually relaxes on the cold gym floor and looks up at Simon with a smirk. Content that the man is fine and, at least for the moment, ignoring the impossible transformation that he has witnessed as a means of survival. In defiance of some shred of self that recognizes the transformation he ignores the flash of red in his eyes that stares at and into the man on the floor and scoffs, “Good luck finding a new trainer.” He pauses, wanting desperately to say something clever but is waylaid by his duller wit, his gentle spirit, and the terrifying feeling at the back of his mind that something has similarly irrevocably changed who he is. He slowly shakes his head and wanders off to the shower.

Tim crawls after him pleading him to stay around though even as he struggles to crawl after the man he cannot help but realize that he seems to have bitten off more than he can chew. That is until he sees Simon go into the locker room rather than straight out of the gym. His mouth reflexively contorts to a smile and his heart skips a beat. There remains more for his greedy hands to take. His drive for more compels him to fight through pain, through soreness. He can’t help himself. He cannot stop himself.

Simon stands. He tries to sneak though every step elicits a quivering gasp of pain. He bites his forearm to quiet his pained pants as he presses forward towards Simon’s discarded gym bag. Seeing the used jockstrap lying on top his free hand goes to grasp it before neurons even fire in recognition of what it is. Adrenaline and static sear through him great enough to feel pain no longer as he doesn’t stumble but sprint out of the locker room, out of the gym, and into his truck. He doesn’t know how but he’s wearing it before the keys turn in the ignition.

He has drunk after Simon, he has rubbed the man's sweat over his skin, he has washed his chest with his spit. These are nothing compared to his wearing the man’s discarded, post-workout jock. Were he struck by lightning he would have less energy coursing through him, his whole being vibrates and his vision tints red as by the time he’s home he can scarcely exist for what is flowing through him, what is overflowing out of him. He cannot think for the pleasure and power coursing through his veins, mainlining into his nervous system through the purloined jockstrap.

So overwhelmed is he it’s almost as if he’s unable to maintain what has been thus far been bestowed unto him. As if he were becoming less defined, less real. While his muscles compress and his mind sits on the precipice of total erasure, it is clear what aspect of self is benefitting from his impossible situation. When he finally realizes how dire- how tenuous a hold he has on what is happening to him, what is becoming of him as his blood begins to burn he discards the jock and his eyes land upon a cock that may be the closest man has ever come to perfection. 

Pubes like a burning bush around an obelisk of a dick. His hands twitch as they go to grab it and they burn with pleasure as Timothy is filled with feeling so intense that he sees only red, he feels only static, he hears nothing but the rushing of blood through his ears. Through gnashing teeth he is no longer aware of having he unknowingly does the only thing that could save him. Just as he begins to lose the capacity for thought at all, he stumbles upon a wish. i wish i could share this- and with that whatever staticky magic, whatever inhuman energy flowing through him from Simon, from Nicky, is discharged. 

He awakens on the edge of orgasm sitting on his couch, as soon as he’s conscious enough to move he loses control. Painting his torso as well as the wall behind him with cum his breathing stutters as he stares at his dripping cock. His hands shake as he reaches for it, twitching it stands higher and crisscrossed by fleshy veins and surrounded by a garden of pubes distinctly thicker than how he keeps them. Grunting as he convulses to prevent himself from cumming again he hears his voice echo through the room deeper, stretching he finds his limbs are longer. His mind dances with the idea that what just happened to him may not have just been some all-too-real dream after all, but some true working of magic.

His hands go to cup his thicker balls, and as they are graced by a callused hand that seems to have done perhaps one full day of work before, his hips rut and he loses control once more. Splashes of cum decorate his hairless stomach and chest that currently maintain only the most superficial of muscle and vascularity. Taking in the mess he has made of himself, Tim’s eyes widen as he observes something new beginning. Like tears of god the cum decorating his chest has begun to seed bountiful thick curls everywhere it lands. Rapidly do jungles of hair sprout up across his cumstained body enough to perhaps rival that of Simon’s. Though as he sees his newfound ability to change himself, Simon loses such prominent status from his mind.

His hands, having been incredibly near to the epicenter of his powerful release are certainly not spared from his loosed loads. Thick hair begins to trail up his forearms, accompanied by veins even thicker than he held during his peak performance with Simon. Shaking off whatever anxieties remained from his near cosmic experience, as well as any desire to understand what is happening to him, he gleefully begins to rub his cum into pecs as they begin to amass weight and strength once more. This time they are artfully decorated with curls he has longingly lusted after since he first stumbled upon his proclivities towards masculinity.

While his fingers dance and sculpt his body into what he has always wanted to fuck and only recently hungered for himself, he becoems aware that his plans have returned to the headspace wherein he truly lost himself. In between dragging through a treasure trail that now acts as a highway from his neck to his cock, playing with nipples that hang pertly from a chest no man would be ashamed to have, playing with lengthy pit hair that holds a permanent undeniable aura (Read: musk), he overcomes his prideful shortfalls, shaking off his need to personally be more- shaking off his obsession with seeking fulfillment in power, in forcing some jock he doesn’t even know to acknowledge and fulfill him he is struck with the desire that let him persist. I Wish I Could Share This. 

Taking time to spread his seed across his jawline and ensure his face has stubble, Tim stands to feet and smirks as pre continues to drip down from his cock. Curls spread up from his wider feet to meet with the forest of hair that coats his calves, which rush to surge and match the density of hair that ushers forth from his thighs and crotch. He stretches and groans with a clear mission laid ahead of him. Propelled with the desire supernatural, bestowed upon him by himself, he throws on as little clothing as he can get away with and wanders out from his home. No need to choose a destination as some will greater than himself already pulls him closer.

Before he’s made it down the street he grimaces and removes his shoes, sizes too small already; they're simply too tight for any continued charade of decency to be worth it. When hairy toes just as soon burst forth from his socks he grins and presses onward, delighted at the prospect, the ideal of never being contained. Each step forward stains the earth beneath him with a sweaty footprint. Each mark a proof of currently barely perceptible change that he has wrought, should someone investigate too intently they are sure to find themselves pulled in and changed as well. Though such contagion is paltry compared to what is to happen when he finally reaches his destination.

His entrance to the gym is unheralded and yet as soon as he steps in the doors every man drops what they are doing to stare. The hunger red hot behind his eyes returns as he meets their gaze and smiles. The receptionist starts to try and speak, some drilled in procedure acting subconsciously. When Timothy turns to observe the quiet voice he freezes up once more before he’s filled with confidence and a burning need to be closer. The receptionist barrels over the counter and races to be the first to reach the titan, to be the first to receive his gifts.

Mouths drop as all watch Tim effortlessly tear the shirt from the man before pulling him in for a sloppy kiss. Wherever Tim haphazardly makes contact with the young man muscle bloats and hair blooms. The manicured fur on his chest rapidly spreads and races to meet with bountiful gardens that push out from underneath his arms. Stubble on his face explodes into a full beard as new prickly strands push out from pores appearing in between pores, never to be combated by a razor again. His chest pushes larger as he struggles to push in closer to Tim than physically possible, as if he were trying to make their forms one. Shoulders just wider and arms hang closer to the earth as biceps form and hands expand.

The receptionist’s eyes roll back as Tim’s graceful and rough fingers slowly twirl downward from playing with chest hair. Following the directions of a new thick treasure trail he finds a bush of pubes spreading further and growing more tangled by the second. Even the lightest touch is enough for the changing man to lose control. Overwhelmed as Tim was from the jockstrap, the young man stumbles backwards, away from the eidolon and into the crowd. Immediately he bumps into another would be congregant to the beyond-alluring gym-rat.

Still not satiated, if such a thing is even possible, the receptionist immediately turns and begins frotting against the wanting man he wantonly bumped into. He does not see his eyes cloud over nor the red mist that falls from his mouth as he makes out with a longtime regular to the gym. When he begins to feel his new beard scratch and tangle with stubble that his suitor had not seconds ago it only makes him all the more excited. Soon enough others see the receptionist begin to spread changes himself, and when they see some clumsy jock bump into the man still tongue deep in receptionist and shiver as he too begins to grow, all Hell breaks loose.

In short order every man in the gym finds themselves changing beyond their wildest dreams. Musky bodies grind against musky bodies. Pecs push into pecs as men who haven’t even realized they liked body hair suddenly find themselves rapt in the heady delight. Newly hairy stomachs and chests scratch against the sweaty curls of other men who can scarcely recall their names. Mouths find mouths, pits unleash b.o. great enough to fill the gym with a cloud of musk. In no time at all dicks are unleashed as they grow too large to be contained by briefs, jocks, or boxers as cum begins to join the litany of other bodily fluids that fly through the air. 

Tim simply watches in reverie as men continue to frot, fuck, bloat, and grow hairier around him. When he sees sensibility or awareness return he simply offers a helping hand and watches bemused as their dumb smiles return. He wanders through tangled bodies exalting himself to find each and every one greater than they were before his guiding hand. Minds consumed with nothing further than the sensual pleasure he offers, not even present enough to question why they had ever prioritized anything else to begin with. 

For a moment Tim himself has some second guesses as to what he has done. Seeing a friend he almost recognizes shake as he grows a foot in height as his man bun retracts into nothing as a beard shades his face. Watching the prim bottom manhandle a jock who is changing far slower than himself gives him pause. Watching men bloat up and become new vectors of transformation. Is this better? Just as soon as the words come they vacate as he takes a deep breath of the scarlet shaded musky air. Of course it’s better, what could one want more than everlasting pleasure.

Soon enough he doesn’t even remember that he was the one to begin the orgy that this gym descends into, it is simply something that happened, that is happening. New gym goers file in as the day goes by and immediately find their place in the bacchanalia. Outside the juice bar and bookstore the gym was wedged in between corrupt into a protein shake shack and sex shop, perfect for the gym rats and himbos to stumble into whenever they need to take a breather before returning to the fracas. The gym becomes a canary in the coal mine of a world that is soon to come, though it is not the inly of epicenter of change in this city.

Nicky’s wish for Simon to have confidence in himself has had repercussions beyond the pale, though that is what happens when one makes wishes and casts spells haphazardly. Due to his desire to forget his strange encounter, he remains totally unaware of what he has unintentionally wrought. In a chinese food restaurant a delivery man scratches at his stomach after making a stop at a friendly apartment next door, he himself could sure use a bite to eat. All across town people Nicky has wished well find themselves becoming more. People Nicky has wished would learn a lesson do so in ways he never could expect, in ways he would never wish. For now he simply continues on as normal, though when Simon finally comes home to tell his boyfriend of a strange encounter with some guy at the gym and the disquieting flashes of red in the back of his mind, perhaps Nicky will finally discover how his will is being enacted, how it is being twisted into the world.

Poll Results:

Delivery - 30.5%

Follows Alex from Talisman II as Rich has unwittingly sent him on his own path to Transformation as he goes on deliveries to find some of his regulars acting strange (General masculinzation for Alex alongside some other shorter fun TF’s, i.e. twinkification/Stoner tf/preppification)

Hazmat 21.6%

Forces race to contain the spread of transformation, but who polices the police as it were (Continuing onward with jockfications)

Location Location Location 24.1%

To test his powers Nicky deliberately changes a whole establishment and the people within, though unfamiliarity or disbelief creates a new locus of transformation (Library to Fraternity? Craft store to sports store?)

Barista 23.6%

Accidentally uses talisman on barista and through effort Simon gets Nicky to observe and become aware of the situation (cafe goer into various TFs surfer/cultural change/might toss in a F2M, is there interest there??)

[rebelssvy]

obsessed part two

bokuto x reader

(afab. this is the most comfortable i write in. i try my best to make it as gender neutral as possible and not give any description of the reader. lmk how i can do betterrrrrr)

- authors note: you guys really liked part one. so abt to write a SINFUL part two ☺️☺️☺️

part one -link here!

LABELS: smut omg smut. i’ve never written anything smut so don’t judge pls 😩😩contains, making out, oral sex, sex.

walking to school the next day was a pain. bokutos mind was filled with the guilt of what had happened last night.

he jerked off to the girl in his class, who he still has yet to talk to.

ashamed was an understatement. he was embarrassed and felt inhumane. it was even worse because the problem still hadn’t gone away. he still thought of you in the worst ways. he couldn’t help himself.

closing the distance between him and his class room, his eyes narrowed in on you. the guilt was overwhelming. but you looked so cute in your uniform.

entering the classroom he groaned to himself. sitting down at his assigned desk, putting his hands over his face to try to hide his frustration.

he just liked you so much that it was truly embarrassing. he was bokuto koutarou! one of the top aces in high school volleyball. no girl should have his attention like this.

i am not a man, he thought to himself, hands still covering his face.

“ahem…” he looked up at the person trying to get his attention.

to his absolute shock, you were standing right infront of his desk.

“hi…” you said to him waiting for a response…. the response never came as bokuto just looked up at you mouth agape.

“i didn’t know you were so shy!haha” you try playing off to make it less awkward. his silence seemed to be maybe a message for you to just walk away. and yet you stayed begging for his presence.

“well i’m yn, and i didn’t know if you noticed but we have a partner project in this class…. and we were paired up yesterday…. and before i could figure out a plan with you, you walked out of class before i could talk to you yesterday.” you felt yourself ramble on for what seemed like far to long. his silence was draining.

from what you heard from most people, your schools ace was a huge standout. most calling him extroverted, crazy and annoying.

but right now he sat infront of you saying not a word.

finally he spoke up “oh..” he said. that’s literally all he said.

you stayed for a little longer, watching his face grow into a friendly smile.

“it’s nice to meet you yn! i’m so sorry i didn’t even realize we had an assignment together!! HAHA well don’t worry we can get it figured out. also sorry about yesterday i just rushed off to practice without a second thought” bokutos voice boomed throughout the class room.

you let out a sigh of relief. maybe he was just waking up still? but he sure does seem awake now..

“we can only work on the assignment out side of the school hours…. if your comfortable with it you can come over to my house tonight and we can work on it.” you say smiling down at him.

bokutos prayers have been answered. everything he has ever worked for is being rewarded back to him now.

“yes.!” bokuto replied without hesitation. smile still beaming up at her.

“here’s my number, text me after this class gets out.” you say to him. stealing his phone and saving your contact in his phone. you were a little forward. bokuto was practically gushing.

with that you walked back to your desk and started talking with your friends.

bokuto was so happy he could scream.

the day went on, after you two had agreed on a set time for him to arrive at your house he was counting down the minutes.

he would have to come over after he practiced, meaning he would also have to go home to shower before hand.

it gave you more time to get ready before he made it to your house.

secretly, you had been honing a crush on bokuto for awhile now. when your teacher announced that you two would be in a group together you were thrilled. but when you looked over to bokuto, he seemed… upset.

his face was hard to read. it was a mix of tired, guilt, and anger. you chose to not introduce yourself to him until class was out, not wanting to make a fool of yourself. but before you could he had already left.

that’s why you were so nervous. he was so big, not just tall. that man was beefy. in all the right ways. and you couldn’t even tell if he liked you at all.

of course you would glance at him time to time in class, even showing up to some of his games in previous years. you noticed him.

analyzing yourself in your mirror. checking the time ever so often.

you had taken a shower, got out of the shower and did all your duties to look the best you could. sporting yourself in a way you were most confident.

also going to the measure of cleaning your room. everything had to be perfect.

before you new it your doorbell rang. you rushed to the door, opening to a freshly washed bokuto.

he had on grey sweats and a black hoodie. his hair was still a little damp from his shower, so it wasn’t spiked up in its usual manner. his bangs clung to his forehead.

“heeeLLO” he said to you voice getting a little louder as his word continued.

“hi” you said to him while still looking him up and down. it was a little obvious you were checking him out.

you quickly let him in and gave him a tour of your home. making a mental note to leave your bedroom for last. making a b- line for your kitchen you offered him somthing to drink.

his presence alone was enough. he was just soo huge. you felt his gaze after every corner you took.

“uh yes water is fine.” he said, way more calm.

you got him a glass and sat on your counter top. he was infront of you leaning his back on your cabinet.

as he drank he held a comfortable eye contact with you.

“how was practice?” you spoke up.

he reached forward and put his glass next to you, then leaned back to his formal position.

“i did way better then i did yesterday i can say that much.” he said with a chuckle. his voice was low. deep.

“what happened yesterday?” you asked.

he seemed a little taken back from your question. but it was only a second of that expression that was followed with a smile.

“oh i just didn’t do my best. my teammates say i get in my own head sometimes but even my worst is not that bad soo” he said with a low chuckle again. his grin never really left his face.

he was confident in himself that was forsure. you thought you should atleast see where you stand with him. gathering up all the confidence you had to flirt with him just a tinyyy bit.

“oh so you must be gooood.” you say leaning forward a little, still perched on your counter top. you made sure you arch your back a little, even though he couldn’t see it from where he was sitting. you applied the action anyways.

bokutos ears perked up a little. he sure did love flattery.

“i mean, yeah. i’m pretty good.” he said non chalantly. leaning forward a little more as well.

“tell me bokuto, how good are you?” you asked. leaning just as much as you could without falling off the counter top.

“oh i’m pretty good. but i can’t tell you how good i am… it’s something you have to experience yourself.” he said, smug. grin still on his face.

as he spoke he had stopped leaning against your counter top.

he got closer to you, your heart beat picked up. he then picked up his hand, reaching out.

just as you thought he was going to touch you, he picked up his glass beside you. blushing your thigh in the action.

he picked up his glass and finished the rest of his water with a gulp.

smug bastard. you thought to yourself.

you then got back onto your feet and started walking out of the kitchen. bokuto taking that as his note to follow behind you.

you silently led him to your room. anticipating whatever came next.

as you waked bokuto stared. he stared at your ass, your hips, your waist. anything he could look at he took a mental picture of.

this could be the only time he was this close to you. he thought.

opening the door to your room you, you showed him around.

“you can sit anywhere your comfortable with, but i did get an extra chair for you at my desk.” you say to him. going and taking a seat next to the school work you had already laid out.

bokuto was taking in everything. your posters, your decorations, anything you had in their he was saving in a file in his brain.

he finally sat down next to you.

you started going over the project, he would follow your words with some “hmm” or “ook” but overall he didn’t seem very into it.

all bokuto could think about is you stuffed full of his cock. really it was a shame. you were talking to him and that’s all he could think about. he watched your lips as they instructed him. that’s all he really watched.

“bokuto.” you said in a firm voice.

“are you even listening?” you said to him slightly annoyed.

“uhh yea…” he replied guilt sinking in once again.

he was evil. he wanted you. he felt as if you had just teased him in the kitchen too. he wanted to get you back. bad.

he licked his lips. confidence surging through him for a second. he opened his mouth to say somthing.

but the words never came. blush flooded his face. you probably think he’s stupid at this point.

“you are so pretty.” he said quickly. it came out of nowhere. he didn’t even mean to say it. he was so embarrassed!

but there was no way you were gonna know how embarrassed he is. no, bokuto koutaro never gets embarrassed!

you stare back at him. confused. but to all honestly. you were aching for him. his frame so close to yours, made you painfully aware of how big he was.

and he just called you pretty. what even in your next move! what are you supposed to say to that!

“y/n…” he said quietly. it was soft. he had gotten closer to you then you realized. you could feel his breath on your lips.

“bokuto…” you whispered back to him. the distance was painful.

before you could register he had his lips on yours. closing the gap. you locked your lips with his. it was just a quick kiss. romantic if anything.

you two pulled away. staring him in the eyes, there was a hunger.

“i need more” he said before grabbing you cheeks and closing the distance again. you were shocked. this must be a dream.

your hands found his body. scooting as close as you could without falling off your chair. one of your hands found his bicep. the other on his shoulder.

the kisses grew hungrier. his pace picked up. you gasped when his hand found your thigh. it was a comfortable position.

he took this chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. you purrred against him.

your touches grew with sexual tension. you parted for a second to catch your breath. a line of saliva connecting you two.

“c’mere” he said scooting his chair back alittle. signaling you to get out of your chair.

you stood up waiting further instruction.

he reached up and grabbed your hips pulling you closer to him. he was still seated, legs apart.

you felt like you were on fire. his eyes took in all off you. his hands rubbed your hips. even going a little farther to pinch at the fat of your ass.

“wanna sit on my lap?” he said tilting his head to the side. you shook your head and slowly made your way to his lap. you were positioned so you could face him.

his hands cradled you, finding your curves.

“you think i’m pretty?” you said to him bringing your hands to his jaw.

“you have no idea.” he breathed out.

finding his lips again except the tension in the room was now thick. you were growing a pool in your panties. every touch of his fingers was doing numbers to your core.

without knowing it you slowly started to grind yourself against him. you only noticed when you felt bokuto grow underneath you. his hands moved to your ass. grabbing at it.

then his hands slowly fell even farther. coming concerningly close to your core.

“y/n…. can i…?” he parted quickly. out of breath begging you for more.

“yes bokuto.” you moaned out to him. still grinding your hips against him.

“do whatever you want” you moaned out throwing your head back. you were growing needy.

without any words bokuto grabbed you and picked you up. putting you down on the bed.

your back was on the bed with your legs folded to your chest. he had ahold of your shins.

he was standing above you grinning like a kid in a candy shop.

“i’ve been waiting for this.” he stated.

his fingers graced over your core, you sucked in breath.

“you have?” you whimpered out.

“i have liked you for quite sometime. i have even dreamt of doing somthing like this too you. y/n… you have no idea.” he said while taking off your pants. you were left in only your underwear. then he started working on your shirt, pulling it off over your head.

now being left only in your bra you felt very conscious of everything.

“fuck…” he said to himself seeing you drenched through your panties. this was truly his dream.

“can i?” he said before continuing.

you shook your head yes.

he touched your clothed core with a certain grace. seeming like he was afraid to hurt you. you moaned out at his touch.

your ass was almost off the bed when he slowly came to the ground squatting on two knees.

you soon realized what he wanted to do.

“bo… you don’t have too” you said painfully, when al you really wanted was his tongue on your cunt.

“i want to.” he said before stuffing his face into your core.

you still had your panties on but the friction was just too much. you moaned out back arching for him.

he was hooked. he circled anything he could with his tongue, even taking breaks to kiss your stomach. he finally took your underwear off.

staring at your naked core he was in love. he wanted to be the only man to ever see you like this.

experimentally he blew on it, seeing your body react and you moan out. he loved his life.

diving back into you he licked all of you. slurping up your juices, sucking at your clit. taking every angle he could to make you feel good.

“more…” you whimpered out.

he brought his fingers up to your hole without warning. he played with our rimming a finger around your clenched spot. sticking it in you he stucked on your clit simultaneously.

you moaned out. it was really too much. your core was building up at a fast rate as his finger pumped in and out of you.

he stoped and stood infront of you again. you looked up at him wondering why he had to hault your pleasure.

he took off his hoodie and sweats leaving himself in just his boxers.

and oh. my. god. he was wonderful. he was everything you could ever dream.

“bokuto… i need you.” you told him.

he was on fire right now. you were sprawled out on the bed, cunt for his to see.

“fuck… you drive me insane.” he said pulling his boxers down to free his length.

“oh my god” you moaned out. it was huge. there was no way that was going to inside you. his one finger did the job, so what is that thing even going to do to you.

“cmon baby you can take me.” he said lying down next to you on the bed. you crouch up on your knees.

“ride me.” he demanded.

you positioned yourself on top of him. grabbing at his his abs as you mentally prepped yourself for what was gonna be inside you.

slowly you reach down for his cock. he had already been stroking it.

you touch it and he lets in a sharp gasp of air. you give it a good couple pumps

“hah” he moaned out. you had kept eye contact the hold time you entered him in you.

lowering yourself as best you can. his face was of euphoria.

“bokuto… your tooooo big hah” you moaned out to him.

“call me koutarou” he gasped out.

you found the strength to get him in you. bottoming out you clenched around him.

“fuuuck kou” you moaned out. you started grinding yourself against him.

it was the best pain you had ever felt.

“your beautiful. oh my god.” he said as his hands found your boobs.

pulling your bra down and bringing his lips to your hardened nipples.

your back arched for him. you moaned out louder and louder.

bouncing against him. this was all he ever wanted. he was in heaven.

you felt that familiar coil in your core tighten up again.

and bokuto could tell. he felt your walls clench around him as your threw your head back.

before he could think about it he changed positions. throwing you on your back and into a missionary position.

he took it to himself to start pounding into you.

“kou… nnnits too muchhch” you moaned out. it was almost hard to hear because of the sound your pussy was making.

“cmon. you can take it” he grunted out, slamming himself into you.

you moaned more. eye contact the whole time he fucked you.

the way you clenched around him was almost painful. but he could tell you were close.

he brought his fingers to your sensitive bud.

“cum for me. come on baby you can do it.” he grunted.

“come on my cock.” he grunted even more.

you were so close.

“your mine, understand?”

that sent you have the edge. you clamped around him spasmsing through your orgasm.

bokuto barely pulled out in time to cum on your stomach.

“i’m yours im yours im yours…” you babbled off to yourself.

fuck.

you were both drained.

who ever thought this is where you would be.

he got up to get a tissue for you to wipe you off. then coming over to press a kiss to your forehead.

“i’ll be right back” he said he before he left.

he came back with some water and helped you up.

“what’s going on?” you asked still faint from your orgasm.

“i started a shower for us!” he beamed at you.

yep. he could definitely be the one for you.

………………………………………………………………………………….

- WOWWWWW WHAT DID I JUST WRITE! this is my longest and still some of my first works i’ve put out. well i hope you like it also. comment any ideas you guys have for me!

[finsplurtz]

hello! may I request a subbot afab hawks x domtop amab reader?

idk what trope to pick bc I have so many ideas, but if you're comfortable with it, could it be a sugarbaby x sugardaddy reader AU? maybe with some praise and breeding?

feel free to ignore lol (love your fics btw <3)

— GUYS NEWSFLASH first time writing ftm character hahaha erm i hope i didn’t fuck this up😢😢🙏🙏 (i lvoe dis requets)

something more — keigo.takami

— dom ! male.reader x ftm ! sub ! Keigo Takami

— contents : afab ! Hawks , use of pussy cunt clit and stuff…. Sugardaddy reader , tooo much yap , hawks falls in love with u… er praising , a bit of breeding kink , u might get him pregnant actually…, :( ending..

warnings : love NOT reciprocated sowwy

✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮

Hawks waved flirtatiously at a guy walking by to try and get his attention, he scoffed after the guy payed no mind to him. He got a cigarette out and patted himself to try and find his lighter..where could it have gone…

he felt a tap on his shoulder and he turned to see .. you. Took him a bit but he apologized and took the lighter from your hands.

“thank you..! uh where was it..?” he nervously, struggling to light his cigarette up.

“you left it behind at the bar.” you took the lighter and lit it for the blonde.

“ah..thank you..” he smiled looking away.

“Ya know, you’re a pretty thing. I noticed you at the bar and was going to talk to you but I looked away for a second and the next, you were gone haha” you chuckled dipping your hands into your pockets.

“uh yeah sorry I was…I just needed to take in some fresh air” he seemed a bit more calmer than he was a second ago- he couldn’t get anyone else to pay his drink. that’s why he left the bar.

“mhh. well. I was wondering if maybe I could spend a night with you?” Hawks perked up and looked at you. You were….tall and handsome..you had a nice face…….

“sorry I don’t go around and—“

You held out 200$ to him, waiting for him to take it. “how ‘bout it?” you look at him and smirk.

one night..couldn’t be bad plus, 200 dollars??

“alright then, mister.” He takes the money and smiles at you.

well that’s how you met keigo. after one night you proposed the idea of being his sugar daddy and since the sex wasn’t bad at all, and you paid good money, there was no harm!

overtime you guys became very fond of each other, you weren’t just some cash pig to him, you were special. but to you…..he was sure he was just a fuck toy for you.

you weren’t that old, you had great looks so- why haven’t you gotten a wife? or husband?? a great business guy like you would’ve had someone special by his side by now.

“hey yn…would you ever want to start a family at some point?” Hawks asked. He was sat on your large couch in small shorts and a loose top.

you looked at him and flashed him a smile. “someday, but not now” you were working on your laptop, you kept typing away.

“hmm…” he stood up and walked over to where you were and sat next to you, cuddling your arm.

“what’s wrong, baby?” he hid his smile at the pet name. he shook his head and you chuckled.

the way you treated him was as if he were your special person, you always took care of him. his place wasn’t so safe and it quite frankly- disgusted you… so you insisted he moved in with you. you always paid for him, got him what he wanted, in return he’d let you use him in bed for however long you wanted to.

not only that, but aftercare was amazing. you treated him like if he were made of glass, gentle with him when you bathed him, gentle kisses every now and then. he fought the urge everyday to tell you he loved you because he knew this wasn’t that kind of relationship.

but he started to fall for you. badly. at one point he didn’t really want your money anymore, he just wanted to be there for you and for you to be there for him.

it was about to be a year since you guys started this…thing you guys had going on and he decided to be straight up with his feelings, just tell you. That anniversary or whatever, you took him out to eat like any other day and got him a couple gifts, he was extremely happy and confident things would go well. He was hoping that maybe you guys could be something more than.. this. I mean you already act like a couple! There’s no way he could be wrong..

you guys got back home drunk as hell, laughing and shoving each other around. There was absolutely no fucking way you didn’t like this guy….then again you could just be the devil in disguise

your hands roamed his smaller body while you kissed and fought for dominance. He was losing himself in the pleasure, he had to tell you he just had to..

“uh- yn wait I…need to..” you kissed his neck and sucked on it, he moaned under you and grabbed at your hair. he pulled you off and you looked at him confused.

“I just need to…t..tell…” his words started to get stuck in his throat, nothing was coming out why couldn’t he just spill it out.

“you’re so cute Kei, baby…” you sat up and removed his pants as he squirmed, propped his legs on your shoulder and kissed the inside of his thighs.

“ahh..yn p..please let mhh..~” his back arched at the feeling of your mouth on his cunt. Maybe it was the alcohol in his system that made this all the more enjoyable, but he figured he’d tell you after you guys were done.

he pushed his hair back and gasped when you slid your fingers into his loose hole, all while lapping at his clit. He was crumbling underneath you, his hands pulling harshly on your hair as he squirmed and moaned at the pleasure.

“F-fuck! I’ll c..com..~” he bit his bottom lip, his lower half twitched as he came intensely, His hands letting go of your hair.

You sat up and prodded your cock at his entrance, teasing it over his sensitive clit making him flinch.

“w…wait…no condo-..mm…?” He looked so out of it and cute covering his cunt with his hand.

“what…don’t want my babies…?” you coo gently taking his hand off and leaning down into his ear.

“we’d make the cutest babies..” you harshly grab his hips and slam into him earning a scream from the younger male. He shouldn’t have found that as hot as he did, he’s holding onto you and biting your shoulder as you violate his stupid cunt.

He’s asking you to slow down as best as he can but you ignore him and continue to chase your orgasm. You almost completely stop when he whispers into your ear, an ‘I love you’.

It sounded desperate and whiny, you sit back up, not looking at his face. You look down at your dick, engulfed in the blondes pussy, you push his legs closer to his face and grab his hands, placing them on the back of his knees.

He hold them tightly, so many thoughts running through his little head.

Did you ignore him just now?

Your big hands spread his cunt and you slowly push all the way in, a stretched out whimper leaving Kei.

“Soo pretty, hon….aren’t you such a good boy for me..” you smirk to yourself, your thumb rubbing his clit gently. You grab his legs and move them aside to finally look at his face again.

His face was red and sweaty, tears running down his sad face, droll peaking out of his mouth.

“You’d do anything I asked…wouldn’t you, dear..?” You caressed his face, wiping his dumb tears away. He just stared into your lustful eyes before slowly nodding and smiling.

“Thats right, baby. Your pretty self belongs to me.” You tilt his head and begin to mark his neck as you continued to fuck into his twitching pussy.

He’s losing himself, those dumb thoughts about you not loving him still lurked in his mind. Of course you love him! You love him so much that you want to start a family with him, take care of whatever he needs for the rest of his life. He loves you more.

He’s all smiles and giggles that he doesn’t realize that he agreed to letting you finish inside him, till he feels your hot semen shoot inside of him.

His smile slowly falls, his heartbeat speeding up.

“…y…yn…?” You sit up and pull out, grinning at how your cum spills out of keigo’s cute pussy.

“what? take some pills, dear. You’ll be fine.” You kiss his forehead ignoring the tears that fell from him as he touches his tummy.

“what was it that you wanted to tell me? I’ve got something I wanna say to” you smile and lay down next to his smaller figure, he’s staring at the ceiling, you keep looking at his side profile waiting for him to answer.

“I….don’t have anything to say…” he says tiredly. He finally looks at you waiting for what you were gonna say.

“Hm..i met someone who could join us next time. He’s real cute I think you guys could really get along! Don’t worry though, kei. You’re still my favorite baby…” you smile, exhausted, you kiss the blonde one more time before pulling him into a hug.

“….what…?”

a/n; you guys rlly like hawks y’all are FREAKS (i love him more)

[annaesterella]

Since almost every good fan of Yan-Batfam or something like that is getting into this (and I'm a fan of that kind of thing) LET'S HAVE A NEGLECTED READER

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀. ☆

But I saw that a lot of people liked the other fic, seriously people, KISSES DIRECTLY FROM ANNA! SERIOUSLY, I FELT LIKE A Celebrity (<⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠> ehehe) And this was the first time that a fic of mine gained so many views and I'm very excited, thank you to everyone who liked it!

F/reader (sorry guys, I don't know how to write M/reader)

I'll write a part II, bcuz is too long!

“Don't be silly! I would never be a Wayne.”

Well, first things first, when did it all started again? Haha not 500 time loops ago, but some years ago.. like the first child, you were from a circus, the difference is that.. well? Your parents were magicians, at least your mother... your father until you were 6 or 7 years old was just another distant memory but sweet, not yours, but your mother's... the incredible magic of the circus “Joie nocturne” a beautiful woman, yet another victim of the charms of the heartthrob, philanthropist, billionaire and owner of Wayne companies, Bruce Wayne. Of course, your mother, like almost all women, never forgot him, having him as her beautiful memory, after all, he gave her everything she needed.. you, her lil bunny! That's what she called you, before she was gone, like him, she turned into your distant but sweet memory, like a magic spell..

You felt so alone, the circus wanted to keep you, after all, you were their family too, but even so, he found out about you, and being a child, You wanted to meet your father. Still, feeling the pain of abandoning what you knew, you went. You had your 10 minutes of affection and then never saw him again. You met your two brothers, half brothers, Dick and Jason, and the buttler, Alfred, You thought your life would be like a funny family sitcom, HAHA, WHAT A JOKE. Of course, the oldest was excited to meet you, you were just like him, from a circus! The youngest was curious about the situation, yet he was kind to you and didn't mistreat you. The oldest gentleman, Even with little time, he treated you like your grandfather treated you, you then created an innocent affection for him, after all, he reminded you of your grandfather! After 1 or 2 weeks, they disappeared. Only you and "grandpa" are left.. Just like your mother, you developed an affection for magic... but just those stupid tricks left you bored... even so, it was affectionate to see Alfred pretending not to know about the tricks, just to see you smiling... soon you realized.. you weren't really a Wayne.. at most a visitor. They didn't have time for you, Alfred was still a buttler at the end of the day.

Time passed and you felt more and more alone, of course, you had Alfred, but... he didn't always have time for you. Soon more people appeared... and others disappeared... Jason was the first to go, and even with the short time, you suffered, he was kind... your brother for such a short time, you wished you had played with him more, and after that the house, which was already abandoned, became even emptier, soon another boy appeared, Tim, from a rich family.. and soon Dick went to another city.. you don't remember when, but now there was also Cassandra, Damian, Duke.. Steph.. you remember Barbara from a long time.. Even though the house was full, it was still empty... and you could only comfort yourself with the magic and the things your mother had left for you. Your little stuffed rabbit and its "magic" materials. Even though If you were his biological daughter too, Damian seemed to have more of Wayne than you,maybe because he was a vigilante, maybe because he was a boy? did not you know of course... so why bother? Soon, you stopped trying, you didn't want that anymore... crawling for affection? At your eighteen You made your choice. You wouldn't be a Wayne, you'd be a joie nocturne again. But would they let you? That night, you went to visit the circus, that was your favorite time of year... Halloween, and circus mixed together? Wonderful! So you saw that... the villainy... and for a split second, you wanted to.. do something.. Playing like a good girl, you approached the large bearded man and tugged on his sleeve, asking what that was all about. Maybe this was your chance to be something. It was funny at first, seeing their despair, your second family, trying to explain themselves, but you soon gave a smile, before stamping your foot on the floor, making a crowbar appear, helping to open it. That was the beginning of everything... you were finally someone... even if on the wrong side. Soon, the decisive moment arrived, when you returned "home", packed your bags, and like a magic spell, you disappeared, leaving only a white rabbit and everything you did in that house, in your room, every magic award, every cheap magic materials.

After a Patrol day, Dick he noticed something unusual in the mansion, perhaps because Alfred was visiting his homeland, but it couldn't be that, after all, Alfred had already done that before... Oh right! Birthday girl, his ittle bunny sister. He ran upstairs, knocking on the bedroom door, before entering and seeing only a stuffed rabbit on the bed, and the various magical things around the room, if not for the empty drawers and things, he would say you still lived there by the decoration and the fact room looks good, everything is well maintained, warm

Dick: Bunny?

He called, looking around the room, before looking around, seeing the various magic prizes, photos, top hats and magic kits. All given by Alfred or someone called "Mr. Joie nocturne" Could he be a friend of yours? What do you mean you had participated in so many contests and won? Why didn't you call? Or did you call? Where were you now? Why was everything empty? You went away. He started walking in circles, until Tim entered the room.

Tim: You will make a hole in the ground. I called you several times, why are you in this room exactly?

Dick: Y/N, she is gone.. and we didn't even notice or whatever, we didn't receive any notification, why didn't she notify us that she was moving, we... damn... we weren't going to help probably because we were on patrol, did we waver? Did she know we were on patrol? Does she know the truth?

Tim: Wait, too much to process.. what does it mean "She is gone" she left? Is that it?

Dick: Yes. Dumbass

And well, we can say after that, what happened was like "Oh shit" and then everyone was like "OH SHIT" while you were home.. happy! Getting ready for her first show, her first real show... too true. You thought as you put on your gloves and applied your lipstick. Then, with slow steps, you walked onto the stage, smiling, while waving to everyone, who murmured and whistled. So you decided to do your first trick for the night, the "bullet trick" The difference? There was no trick behind it, just you and your skills... after all, it was in your blood. Just as the bullet was about to go through your skull, you snapped your fingers, and then the bullet turned into a beautiful, bright purple butterfly, flying through the circus, soon coming back towards you and turning into your bow tie. Okay, a bit of a show on your part for the first trick, but you have to show that you have morals. Funny that meanwhile, his family was desperate, going so far as to call Alfred, who was now just as desperate. Then, the special time came, the circus then closed the lights and when it opened, all the valuable belongings, inside the boxes, Of course, you had to feign shock, some clowns trying to calm the audience, and of course, you were also feigning surprise, making your things "disappear" to join in the fun. You looked at the children, snorting slightly, as you made the toys re-appear, seeing some calm down, while the others widened their eyes in surprise. Soon, the "incredible" Bat-family appeared... seriously, for such an idiotic cause they came...? Soon you saw them walking towards you and everything fell into place.

Nightwing: — Y/N! I mean.. Young Lady.. we were notified of your disappearance, we will ask you to return home.

You frowned, as you looked at the audience. Hearing their screams increase, some of relief that the "Bat-family" was there, others of confusion at the situation.

: — I believe, I'm already eighteen, so there's nothing to worry about, Still, I'm with my family at the moment, so I don't understand why the complaint. Not to mention that we were robbed at that moment, so why specifically did they come to resolve a case like this?

You questioned calmly, while pointing at the audience, smiling, before rushing to disappear with your family, leaving the problem to the bats, after all, they were the "professionals." You could say that the shock was written on their faces.. you were so big, poorly dressed.. those presentation clothes didn't suit a little girl like you.. but still.. what you meant by "your family" Were you referring to those circus freaks? They weren't as good as they were, they were just.. ordinary people! Well.. now they had to solve the problem of theft... but that couldn't end like that, nope.

[jobean12-blog]

Next Door to Love

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (Neighbor AU)

Word Count: 3,188

Summary: When you made the move to the city you never expected your new neighbor to be so sweet and helpful...or hot.

Author's Note: Because why not! Moving in across the hall from Bucky would be a dream, one I'd like to live out please and ty haha! Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy!🥰

Warnings: fun and flirty, teasing and tension, a curse or two or three, Bucky is impatient and cocky in the best way!

Last week

Your tired, fuzzy slipper clad feet drag along the floor as you trudge toward the door across the hall. You’re hoping someone is home. Someone who has sugar. Anyone.

You let out a quick exhale and lift your chin before rapping your knuckles against the wood. A frown starts to mar your forehead when you hear a sleepy mumble come from inside the apartment.

Shit, fuck, shit you woke him up. It’s a guy. Of course it is…because you don’t look like you just rolled off your mattress that still has no bedframe and tripped over twenty-five unopened boxes…etc, etc.

The door swings open revealing said guy…a hot-as-fuck guy. Naked, except for his unbuttoned jeans.

Oh hi neighbor.

Before you can stop it, your gaze instantly drops to the dark trail of hair below his bellybutton, framed by a set of abs that you could dry your laundry on.

You reel yourself in and lift your eyes to his which does nothing to help your declining focus. His hair is perfectly mussed from sleep, his chiseled jaw shadowed with dark stubble and his incredible blue eyes lined by dark lashes.

His hands are planted on either side of the door frame and with every passing second you’re mesmerized by flexing muscles in his chest and arms.

He drags a lazy hand through his unkept hair and smiles. Knowingly. Smugly.

“Can I help you doll?”

“Um…hi. I’m sorry if I woke you…it’s just…I moved in yesterday and haven’t gone shopping yet and I have no sugar. I need my coffee.”

“So you’re my new neighbor,” he croons. “Lucky me.”

You audibly swallow and hold up your coffee cup pleadingly.

“I’ll take care of ya doll.”

With a wink he holds up one long finger.

“Come on in and make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back with that sugar.”

He spins on his heel and walks toward what you’re guessing is the kitchen and it should be considering your apartments are mirror images of each other.

You step inside and stand by the door to wait. You hear him rummaging around and then hear a crash followed by grumbled curses.

Before you can react the cutest white cat saunters out of the kitchen, looking quite proud with his fluffy tail held high and blue eyes unblinking.

“That’s Alpine,” he yells from the other room. “Don’t let his cuteness fool you. He’s a menace!”

You let your laughter ring out and then kneel down to give Alpine some scratches. The cat instantly warms up to you and presses himself against your leg, purring loudly.

“Ah, of course he likes you.”

You look up at the sound of your neighbors voice and reluctantly give up petting Alpine to take the offering of sugar.

“Thank you….?”

“Bucky,” he finishes for you. “Name’s Bucky.”

“Thanks Bucky,” you say with a smile and then introduce yourself.

You look back down at the cat that is now circling between Bucky’s bare feet. “And Alpine really is cute. I can’t imagine he’s a menace.”

“Just wait until you get to know him,” Bucky says. “Can I get you anything else doll?”

“No. Thank you and again I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“No problem at all. I had a late night at the office and I was just being lazy. If you need anything else just come by. Anytime.”

His lips turn up in a boyish grin and he winks again.

You can feel his eyes on you as you turn and walk out into the hall and toward your apartment. Just as you push your door open you look over your shoulder and catch him staring, his teeth dug deep into his bottom lip.

The knock at your door startles you from your unpacking trance and from your spot on the floor, surrounded by open boxes and a mess of things, you ask, “who is it?”

“It’s Bucky…and I have food.”

Your smile is impossible to hide and you shout back, “come in!”

Bucky appears in the doorway with a pizza box.

“Hiya doll face,” he chimes. “I figured you’d need some fuel.”

You drag yourself out of the mess on the floor and hop up onto the edge of the counter.

“Thanks Bucky. I really appreciate it, but you’re spoiling me. What is it now…the third time this week you’re feeding me?”

He hands you a slice and then stands there, watching while you take a bite.

“And why not? You need to eat and I love to eat, might as well do it together!”

You laugh through your bite. “Then what motivated you to help with my furniture?”

He shrugs and grabs a slice of pizza, shoving half into his mouth before he answers.

“Perfect opportunity to show off my muscles.”

He waggles his brows suggestively and flexes a bicep.

“Double win for me,” you admit, licking your lips. “How will I ever repay you.”

He remains quiet for several moments while he studies you then asks, “how about a real dinner?”

“Pizza is the realest dinner there is!” you state with a mouthful.

“Let me take you out. For something other than pizza.”  

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“Would you say yes if I were?”

Your legs swing back and forth at the knee as you finish your bite and then place your slice of pizza down. You reach over the box and grab the marker you left out on the counter, placing it between your lips.

Watching him from under your lashes, you take his arm and roll up the sleeve of his Henley and when your fingertips make contact with the sensitive skin on his underside of his forearm you can feel his muscles tighten.

Your mouth curves around the marker at his reaction and you pluck it from between your lips and start writing on his skin.

“Now you’ve got my number. Text me and we’ll pick a date for our date.”

“Thank you,” he says, leaning in close and dropping his eyes to your mouth.

Your lips part with your small gasp of air and when his thumb lifts to brush along the corner of your mouth you let out a rush of air.

“Sauce,” he states before he licks his finger clean, his gaze locked on yours.

You nod as he steps back and pulls out his phone to dial your number on his arm. Your phone rings and he says, “and now you’ve got mine.”

You spend the rest of your weekend unpacking and doing errands, running into Bucky only once in a frantic rush of laundry. He offers to help but you know if you let him you’ll become distracted and never get anything done. The two of you text back and forth, deciding on Saturday for your official date. No pizza involved.

The next morning you get another text from him.

“Morning doll face. Don’t forget an umbrella. Gonna rain later today.”

“Are you the weather man now?” you message back, smiling at your phone.

“Nah. Just a friendly neighbor.”

“Did you tell everyone in the building about the rain and remind them to bring an umbrella.”

“Just you…”

“Thanks, but I’m already half way to work sans umbrella.”

“Damn it. I knew I should have texted earlier. Now if you get caught in the rain it’ll be all my fault.”

“Hardly! I should have checked the weather. Can’t rely on you for everything can I?”

He sends a wink face.

“Is it Saturday yet?”

“Still only Monday morning. What’s Saturday?”

“Don’t tease me doll. I’ve been looking forward to this date since you showed up at my door lookin’ for sugar.”

“Have a good day Bucky.”

“You too doll…stay dry.”

You’re only two blocks from your apartment building when the sky opens up and the rain comes down in buckets. By the time you reach the doors you’re soaked through and cursing at yourself for forgetting an umbrella.

The door attendant lets you in with a sympathetic smile and as you’re sloshing past him and toward the elevator you hear Bucky’s voice.

“Oh doll. Look at you.”

He tugs his mail from the box and slams it shut, rushing toward you and taking your arm.

“Soaked,” you say sadly.

“I can see that,” he muses with a twitch of his perfect lips. “Come on, let’s get you upstairs and dry.”

The elevator doors open and you step inside with a shiver. He immediately starts to pull your jacket from your shoulders.

“What are you doing?” you ask without stopping him.

“You have to get out of this jacket. I’m sure your shirt is….”

He stops speaking when his eyes catch sight of your white button down, soaked through so that you can see the lace of your bra outlined against the fabric.

“Fuck,” he mutters, dragging his eyes back to your face. “Here.”

He shrugs off his damp jacket and then takes off his suit jacket and drapes it over your shoulders.

“But it’ll get all wet,” you protest.

“Don’t care. You can’t walk out of the elevator like that.”

His jaw is set in a hard line as his fingers work over the scruff that lines it. The elevator dings at your floor and he takes your hand, leading you out and checking the hallway.

“Why are you looking around like that?” you ask.

He turns back to you and tugs you closer. “I don’t wanna anyone seeing you.”

“Why not?”

“Because then I’ll have to kill them,” he states.

“Someone is acting a little jealous,” you giggle.

“Yeah well…we haven’t even had our first date yet. Can’t have someone looking at what’s about to be mine.”

“Yours,” you breathe out, not even realizing you’re now standing in front of your apartment door.

With shaky fingers you start to remove his suit jacket but before you can he stops you with a hand on your wrist.

“Don’t doll. Just keep it for now.”

“But we’re at the door. I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, but if you take that off then I have to see you in your wet shirt again. And I’m not sure I’ll be able to control myself if I do.”

“Control yourself how?” you ask in a breathy whisper.

He responds with a pained groan before his mouth meets yours and he has you pressed against the door.

Even though your shirt is soaked through and your skin is cold you can feel the warmth of his body seep into yours. You wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself and he lifts one hand to cup the back of your neck, tilting your head and deepening the kiss.

Your scrape your nails along his broad shoulders and he moans out your name.

“Fuck, I love having your hands on me.”

The desperation in his voice has you arching into him and you drop your head against the door, giving him access to trail his lips down your neck. Your fingers slide into his hair and tug at the soft strands. He growls into your skin and scrapes his teeth over your pulse point making you gasp his name.

“Oh I like that,” you whisper.

He does it again.

“You’re going to like everything I do to you doll face.”

His lips graze yours and he swallows your whimper, crowding you closer to the door before muttering out a curse and letting you both take a breath.

“Is it Saturday yet?” he asks, still breathless.

“Still Monday,” you answer, feeling just the same.

“Right,” he says, planting his hands on the door above your head and dropping his head forward.

A door down the hall opens and he pauses, straightening his body to hide your own. You both smile at the older lady who walks by with a questioning look.

When Bucky’s eyes return to you they drop to where he spread his jacket open to put his hands on you, your shirt sticking to your wet skin even more now.

He stares before reluctantly dragging his eyes up and taking the sides of the material and pulling them tightly around you.

You tremble.

“Still cold?” he asks, his eyes soft with worry.

“Hardly,” you answer and lean up to kiss the corner of his mouth.

“See you later Bucky.”

“I’m counting on it doll.”

You spend the rest of the week juggling your time between work, texting Bucky and sleeping. You’ve only seen him once since Monday evening and that was for five minutes when he caught you coming home again but this time he had his friend Steve with him and there was no chance for any kissing.

Saturday morning rolls around and you wake up to a text from him.

“It is finally Saturday or am I dreaming?”

“It’s really Saturday!”

“Thank fuck! Can we start our date now?”

“No…I have to do girly things and prepare.”

“What kinds of things….?”

“I’ll see you tonight Buck.”

You can almost hear his groan through the phone.

“I’ll be at your door at 7 sharp.”

Bucky knocks on your apartment door at exactly the same time your phone clock hits 7:00pm. You grin at your best friend Nat before she gets up and walks toward the door.

“Oh girl. He’s hot!” a muffled voice says from the other side.

It isn’t yours so Bucky assumes it’s your friend.

“He’s at least a nine.”

Bucky scoffs, muttering, “a nine?” quietly to himself.

“Hey, I can hear you in there. Are you gonna open the door?” he asks the unknown voice.

The door swings open to reveal a red head who looks him over with two scrutinizing green eyes.

“Hi,” he smiles, holding out his hand. “I’m Bu…”

“Bucky,” she finishes. “I know who you are…question is…do you know who I am?”

“You must be Natasha,” Bucky answers with a smug smile.

“That’s right and I’m a black belt in jiu jitsu so you do anything I don’t like and I will end you.”

Bucky’s eyes light up and he watches Nat as she moves toward the kitchen.

“You almost ready doll face,” he yells, not taking his eyes off Nat in case she goes for a knife.

“I’m right here,” you say.

Bucky turns to find you standing right in front of him. His mouth drops open as his eyes sweep you up and down.

“This is where you say she looks amazing,” Nat admonishes from the kitchen, dangerously close to the knife rack.

However, Bucky’s eyes never leave you and when he steps into your space and wraps you in his arms, pulling you into his chest, you let out a squeal of delight.

“You look fucking gorgeous,” he says, loud enough for Nat to hear, then whispers, only for your ears, “I want to rip this dress off you.”

Your lips spread into a sly smile. “We made the right choice Nat.”

“Of course we did,” she chimes. “Now go. I’ll lock up.”

“I’m so ready,” he says, ushering you toward the door, but not before turning to Nat, still in the kitchen eyeing him warily, and asking, “I’m good with a nine, but just out of curiosity, what did I lose a point for?”

“You’re really gonna make me say it in front of you?” Nat asks.

“I wanna hear it too Nat,” you say, raising an expectant and skeptical brow.

“You didn’t shave.”

He runs the free hand, the one not wrapped around your waist, over his jaw.

“I didn’t get any complaints earlier this week,” Bucky says, eyes now sparkling with mischief.

“He’s right Nat,” you add. “I like it.”

Nat rolls her eyes and shoos you away.

Once you’re safely in the elevator and away from prying eyes Bucky invades your space, plastering you against the cool metal wall and caging you there with his large body.

“It almost killed me to not be kissing you for the past five minutes,” he says against your lips.

When you press into him and slide your body along his it sucks the breath right out of his lungs and fills them with something else. Need.

The kiss pulls a throaty groan from him and his belt buckle digs into your skin, the muscles hidden beneath his clothes, pressing and flexing over the thin material of your dress.

The elevator door dings and begins to slide open, causing you to give his chest a gentle shove.

“You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” he asks as he lifts a finger and traces your swollen lips.

“That would suck,” you reply. “I kind of like having you as a neighbor.”

After a delicious dinner at a roof top restaurant down town, Bucky walks you along the street, hand in hand, as you listen and laugh to his childhood stories about growing up in Brooklyn.

“Where are we going now?” you ask.

“It’s a surprise,” he says as he twirls you into his side and presses his fingers under your chin to steal a kiss.

As you get closer to your destination the bright lights sparkle and the smell of the ocean is carried on the warm breeze.

“Which bridge is that?” you ask with awe.

“The Brooklyn Bridge,” he tells you and grabs your hand to pull you along. “Come on. I have something to show you.”

When you reach the top of the look out he slides an arm around your waist and pulls your back to his chest.

“This is so beautiful Bucky,” you whisper.

He kisses your cheek and takes your chin between his fingers, turning your face up to his. “I always thought it was the most beautiful thing in the city…but not anymore.”

You’re thankful for his strong arms holding you up and after a sweet kiss you enjoy the view in comfortable silence for a few more minutes but his hands start to wander, soft and sure, and with each passing touch your body aches for more.

His warm breath fans across your neck and his arm moves lower until his hand grasps your hip and he pulls you back to feel the hardness between his legs.

You suck in a breath and fight the urge to move against him.

With a curse he pulls away and grabs your hand, dragging you toward the park under the bridge. The only lights come from the lit-up buildings across the street and when he finds a hidden spot he backs you against the cold stone but you’re too hot to care.

“Bucky,” you whisper as your hands roam over his broad chest.

His mouth brushes yours before he gently nips at your bottom lip.

“I can’t even keep my fucking hands off you long enough to bring you home,” he murmurs.

His fingers find the hem of your dress and he slides them under, slowly teasing the fabric higher until his hand brushes over the wetness on your panties.

“Please, Bucky,” you pant.

“Fuck, I love hearing you say my name like that,” he growls. “I need to get you home so I can hear you scream it for me.”

@hiddles-rose @littleseasiren @randomfandompenguin @blackwidownat2814 @goldylions @buckysdollforlife @lizette50

[proxycrit]

I love your au!!! I love how the hylian duo look like gremlins, I LOVE the expressions and sass constantly and the changes to the lore, the worldbuilding and also the emotions (OUCH). I love their relationship with purah and each other and the new champions. I love the depth you gave Yona and her relationship with Sidon and Mipha. I love how link feels comfortable talking to sidon in addition to sign, I don't know if he does that with anyone else but Zelda unless its absolutely necessary (eg: just launched out a cannon and is paragliding down, so hands are busy) (side note: i love how much of an adrenalin junky/gremlin he is!!)

I do got a few questions! Will the pair get the sheikah slate again (so say link has the slate and zelda the pad), and can both slates do the warping and item storage (food, ingredients, armor, weapons, etc) (if so: no WONDER link was so upset! His collection!)

Does link have access to the ultrahand abilities (ik you said not The ultrahand, but what about fuse or ascend or rewind etc?) Where is the mastersword??

Does Link still have the champions' abilities, or did he lose those when their spirits moved on at the end of botw?

I know these are a lot of questions but I can't stop thinking about it!! The last few updates sent me back rereading the whole au and now its just vibrating in my head and giving me no piece

This is long and rambly, just know I am very much enjoying this au! Its silly and fun and touching and cute. Thank you for working on it!!

Oo some notes (also ty for circling my au haha im glad other people fixate like i do)

(Prewarning— i did not finish totk despite putting triple hours in it, so a lot of this story is being written while playing, though i know the big broad strokes thanks to cultural osmosis and video essays. A lot of Familiar Familiar builds from my playthrough with BOTW over TOTK, so the sheikah influence is significantly stronger and I will always choose botw characterization over totk characterization as a result.)

That aside

1. Sheikah slate’s dead. Rest in pieces, link’s rare collectable korok poop. Purah’s extracting as much data as she can to put on the purah pad but you can see the dread in her eyes whenever she has to tell link resurrection is not possible.

2. No idea about the zonai arm powers yet— im thinking about ascend, but the longer i go through this story the less likely ill hand it to him just due to immersion breakage. He and zelda will be getting sheikah gadgets from purah though! Maybe ill have a scene of him wandering through the sky island shrines, but without zelda warning rauru he and sonia wouldnt have prepared anything for the hero of the future. (But i DO love ascension and fuse. Lowkey dislike the building mechanics from a concept art pov because the green glue makes me want to cry, but it’s FINE i GUESS)

2b. Master sword’s chilling in korok forest. Link put it back in this au because of Reasons (part of his and zelda’s characterization in this au is to discard their past roles and embrace the present, not as knight and princess but as hero and researcher. They both have to face the reality those roles aren’t dead, but it’s a work in progress. I may also never address it. This “one off hehe lemme draw some guys” idea quickly spiraled into a web comic series so apologies for the vagueness, because i too am watching them adventure with dread and awe and i don’t know where they’ll go with it. They literally write themselves.

3. Rip champions, their ghosts are Gone (but their influence remains. You go mipha, keep haunting the narrative girl, i love you)

I know that some of these story notes don’t quite match up to what totk states is stone cold canon, but that’s the joy of fan work! Anyways sorry for folks who i have NOT answered asks of— i have a lot of them and I’m much better at the drawing and writing part then the socialization aspect (please feel free to peak in to my zoo enclosure ever so often though. I need the enrichment)

[grooveology]

. . . haha . . . imagine being tashi's childhood best friend, growing up beside her and getting into stanford together . . . meeting patrick and art then she starts dating patrick but reader is never left out (and neither is art) hmmm why does patrick wrap his arms around readers waist?? why does tashi smile at the sight??? why is art so touchy with tashi AND in front of patrick??? why are you all so affectionate?

i may have gone a bit overboard, but i did kind of forget about tashi x art sorry ): hope this gives your genius thoughts justice!!

you and tashi? the epitome of the sun and moon, two peas in a pot—but with way more codependency than either of you would admit to. you were attached by the hip. how could you not be? you grew up together, lived on the same street, went to the same school, and eventually went to the same university. you were each other's first kiss, first makeout, first homoerotic friendship! it was only natural for you two to share boyfriends–friends. you aren't sure how it happened, but one night you both meet patrick zweig and art donaldson (although, they were both on your radars way before the party.) the boys immediately take an interest in you and tashi, inviting you over to their hotel room. surprise, surprise, you both make an appearance.

patrick shares his touching story about teaching art how to jerk off and suddenly tashi gives you a look and you can't help but burst into laughter. okay, alright, maybe you were a tad bit drunk. you snort, laugh, and then, before you can stop yourself, the words slip out.

"that reminds me of the time when tash offered to give me kissing lessons."

tashi, unfazed as ever, takes a casual sip of her beer and grins.

“well, you were nervous about kissing guys,” she says, her tone maddeningly matter-of-fact. “you needed all the help you could get.”

you groan, burying your face in your hands. "tash—oh my god.”

now, it was patrick who bursts out laughing, nearly spilling his drink. “wait, wait. are we talking, like, full-on tutorial?”

“shut up,” you mutter, cheeks burning. “it wasn’t like that.”

oh, but it was!

art is too amused by the conversation to say anything, but you can feel him watching. his pretty blue eyes flicker between you and tashi, it's almost like he’s taking mental notes on this whole conversation.

"what?” you snap, more defensive than you mean to be.

art’s grin widens just a fraction, and he takes a sip of his beer, shrugging. “nothing. just… you two are close. closer than most."

you don’t know how to respond to that, but tashi, of course, doesn’t miss a beat.

“so are you two,” she says casually, her eyes flicking toward the beds shoved together at the center of the room.

and somehow, just like that, the room shifts. one thing leads to before you know it, your lips are on tashi’s, soft and searching, the taste of beer and laughter still lingering in her mouth. patrick’s mouth finds art’s, and the sound—a soft, startled hitch of breath—pulls your attention for half a second. you glance over, catching the way art’s hand curls around patrick’s neck, pulling him closer.

and then, somehow, art’s lips are on yours. the shift happens so naturally it barely registers—his mouth is soft, he's not rushing, instead, he's savoring as if he's trying to memorize the feel of you.

besides you, patrick’s mouth crashes against tashi's with urgency, his kisses hungry, almost desperate, as though he’s been holding back all night and finally let the dam break.

since that night, things changed—with art now attending stanford alongside you, and patrick going pro (yet he always found a way to visit) the four of you only grew closer.

patrick and tashi were the first to make it “official.” you’d think that would’ve made you the third wheel but no. it was the opposite. they invited you and art to their dates. your opinion mattered—on everything. what they wore, where they went, what they ate.

you and art? you were “friends.” friends who held hands when no one was looking—or even when they were. friends who kissed each other at parties or on lazy afternoons when the sun hit his dorm room just right.

and then there was patrick. it didn’t matter that he was tashi’s boyfriend—there were nights when his mouth found yours instead, kisses that were playful but lingering, his hand never failing to slip to your waist.

tashi never seemed bothered. if anything, she found it amusing. eventually, she’d roll her eyes, a small smile twitching at her lips. "he’s a sloppy kisser, isn’t he?” she’d say, tone so casual it could’ve been about the weather.

"i'm a great kisser." patrick would shoot back defensively, pulling away from you.

“sure,” tashi would reply, deadpan, her eyes cutting to yours like she was about to make a point. she’d tug you away from patrick and kiss you herself—wolfishly and possessively.

when she pulled back, her lips still brushing yours, a small smirk played on her face as she turned her attention to patrick, just as quickly, her gaze shifted back to you. her smirk softened into something almost affectionate—almost.

"i’m the better kisser,”

oh, and patrick and art? they were affectionate with each other too, in their own way. patrick was never shy about grabbing art’s thigh in the middle of a conversation, drawing lazy patterns. and art had his ways of showing care—kissing patrick’s head or brushing a soft kiss against his lips whenever he had to leave for a tennis match.

despite it all, though, you and tashi were the closest.

when patrick was away, you made sure to take care of her, her legs would part for your fingers found her cunt, moving slowly at first, then deeper, curling just right until soft gasps turned into desperate moans that filled your shared dorm room.

“tashi, you look so pretty." you murmured, your lips brushing her neck as she arched beneath you, her head tilted back, her breath hitching as your thumb found her clit, drawing lazy circles that sent her spiraling.

and tashi? she had her ways, too. every morning, she’d wake you with a kiss, her lips brushing yours softly and every night, she’d kiss you again—she’d press you up against the wall, her breath warm against your skin as her hands pushed down the shorts you’d “borrowed” from her.

her fingers found you easily, sliding between your thighs, drawing out a gasp as her lips trailed down your neck. “mine,” she’d murmur against your skin, a claim as much as a reminder.

at the end of the day, it was always you and her. the boys were just playthings, distractions from the way her nails dug into your skin, the taste of her on your lips, the way she said your name like a prayer. you were hers, and she was yours—always.

[bruciemilf]

DC can shoot blockbuster movies, but only WFA is genius enough to introduce PTA mom! Bruce who's extremely competitive.

I need Battinson, youngest parent there by far, to roll in, smudged make up, bruises, a busted red lip.

No one thinks to link those marks to Batman. They're OBVIOUSLY evidence of a long night of fooling around in the club instead of caring for his young ward

Margie thinks that's funny, seeing as this guy obviously doesn't get out much. She tried putting him through the trial of Intimidating Mom Show Off and he just said, " I'm going to cry in the bathroom. Excuse me."

I'm sorry, but Bruce being openly affectionate with Dick, Jason, Damian, Cass, and Tim, -- kisses on the cheek, hugs that last until the teacher breaks them off, - would have the fathers cringing.

" Haha, I don't do that with my kids. I'm actually here because my wife bitched at me."

Bruce, straight up, " Don't you like your children?"

" Excuse me?!"

" Not yet. Why do you hate your kids?"

" I love my kids, I just can't wait to get away from them. Come on, you know how it's like."

" No. I love my babies. Why do you hate your babies? Why do you hate your wife. I'll pay for your divorce if you want."

Bruce gets reported VERY often to the principal and board for being inappropriate, and you know what? They refuse to do anything. It was about time someone raised hell around here.

Duke, age 8, watching a grown man throw a tantrum because Bruce called Dick 'baby' : Bruce. I can poke him with my sword

Bruce: Not yet, Duke

Jason tries exploding every kid he doesn't like with his mind. "Trust me, you won't like the alternative. Now be gone! My papi brought me lunch." It's a lunchbox full of books.

Bruce gets along the best with the mothers. They treat him like the class hamster

[sugoi-writes]

Morning! I have a little silly idea for Alastor x Reader and wanted to share :D

Reader is stressed over some big event that is about to happen in the Hotel (like idk maybe they're throwing a ball or some gala to encourage more sinners to check in) and while she's giving a pep talk to everyone she absentmindedly starts fixing Alastors bowtie/coat/hair and everyone expects him to snap at you (you two were more of rivals than friends) but instead he smiles at you softly and fixes your necklace. You two only realize what you did when Angel "quietly" asks as a joke when did the two of you get married 😅

Sorry this took so long!!! I hope this is doing your prompt a little bit of justice! Please enjoy!!!

No warnings for this one, really! Just some good old fluff and pining (which I DESPERATELY need to work on, HAHA--)

♥️♥️♥️

Everything was hung in place, not a tassel or a drape awry. The decorations and accents, deep reds and lush golds, adorned every surface you could see. It was... gaudy. But it was perfect.

When all was said and done, you clasped your hands together, a triumphant smile on your face. Charlie, being the sweetheart she was, tasked you with orchestrating the grand-reopening ball. She had to admit, it was nice to throw the reigns to someone else for a while. She definitely got some MUCH needed time alone with Vaggie, who was also more than willing to take a backseat.

Your voice cut through the chatter like a knife, silence behalfing the room with your address," Alright... guys, everything looks great. The place looks perfect. Everyone is looking--"

As your eyes flit about the hotel residents, you spy a freshly-apparated Alastor, who was... off. Physically, you mean. You squint for a moment, spying three things: Hair, Bowtie, Handkerchief.

"Sh-Sharp... everyone looks sharp."

Without thinking, you marched right up to the Radio Demon, collective gasps around the room as you touched him. Looks of bewilderment, horror, and amusement surrounded you both. You were preening him, adjusting him... unannounced? With no physical repercussions? How were you still alive?

Both hands shimmied the black bowtie into place," The music is covered, thank you for the recommendations, Alastor--"

"Anytime, dear," he quipped, not flinching in the slightest. His eyes were trained forward, avoiding eye contact as you pat his chest. Charlie's eyes looked like they were going to pop out of her skull as you pulled out the handkerchief, refolding and placing it back into Alastor's breast pocket. Another, resolute tap to his chest, and Angel's brain was short circuiting.

"Right-- like I was saying, everything is PERFECT. I need everyone on their BEST behavior when the doors open-- you especially, Angel. Everyone has their roles--"

Angel squinted, pouting as he shifted his weight... His head cocked to the side with a smirk, as if to say 'speak for yourself'! You strained onto your tiptoes, fluffing and adjusting Alastor's fringe, completely oblivious. There was a tinge of hair gel in Alastor's crimson, which surprised you. He had really gone the extra mile... albeit, still a little under perfect. Or maybe, you had just never noticed how much effort he put into his appearance?

"Niffty: keep an eye on the buffet and clean any and all messes. Angel, intel and vibe-checker. We have some big-wigs coming tonight, and I'm sure we could weasel our way into their good graces-- Make sure they're drinking, eating, dancing-- yknow!!! Having a good time!"

Alastor leans his head down for you, allowing easier access to his hair. You silently thank him, your tangent continuing," Charlie, Vaggie: you know the drill. Get them hooked on this place. Give them the razzle-dazzle to get them to stay. Lucifer, sir, you're in charge of the fireworks. I'm sure you have something ENTIRELY too bombastic for this, but-- just try not to scare anyone off tonight, sir???"

Lucifer, though still flabbergasted, gave you a pair of finger guns. This was his way of giving silent acknowledgement.

"Husk, of course: you're on drink detail. The more booze, the looser these guys get. The more likely they'll cave and stay the evening or become a patron--"

You blinked as warm hands were on your collarbone, adjusting your necklace. Though your face burned brightly, you didn't utter a word as Alastor finished his adjustments, giving you a pat on the shoulder. You looked up towards him, a friendly smile shot your way.

No words were exchanged, just smiles. You nod to Alastor, before turning to face the crowd. You weren't expecting to see looks of confusion and shock: everyone looked like deer in headlights. You sigh, chuckling a bit as you crossed your arms," C'mon guys, I know everyone is nervous about reopening to the public today, but we've got this!!! Seriously, everything is absolutely perfect now and--"

"If I can cut in real quick, toots-- are we plannin' a weddin'?" Angel retorts, fanning his hand back and forth between you and the Radio Demon.

"I mean-- not that I'm complainin', but y'gotta warn a guy first. I would've worn somethin' else for such a special day~"

You blink, utterly confused, before it finally clicked. You sputter dramatically, eyes wide and face heated from the implications," I don't-- I don't know what you mean, Angel--"

"Oh honey, we aren't BLIND. Admit it, you're mackin' with Tall, Dark, McNasty. And honestly, I get it. Chase your dreams or whateva. It's kinda cute~"

There were murmurs from the other crew, loosely agreeing to Angel's sentiments.You take a step forward to say something, before a hand clamps onto your shoulder. Your face only grew warmer as Alastor stepped in front of you. His pleasant smile strained, his annoyance further proven by his left, twitching eye.

"Now now, let's not lead the night with accusations and gossip-- though I'm usually a big fan myself~," Alastor mused, his grin widening.

" I'm afraid you all have the wrong idea-- I was just simply making sure everything was perfect. Just as our party host is." Alastor turns to you now, his smile softening," And that's exactly what tonight will be, with you at the helm: perfectly executed."

Angel snorts, leaning over towards Husk as he covers his mouth. A hushed whisper and an eyebrow wiggle are thrown his way," Oh, they're DEFINITELY fuckin'~"

You nearly shrieked as you cover your face with both hands, frustrated," Shut up, shut up, just-- UGH. L-Let's get to our battle stations, guys-- doors open in FIVE MINUTES," you bark. The nervous energy in the hall multiplies before dispersing, as everyone made themselves busy. It was very clear that everyone was trying to ignore the elephant in the room (and failing miserably). You do your best not to smudge your polished appearance as you turn on your heel, making your way towards the bar.

Immediately, you give it a knock, two fingers out. Husker nods, pouring you a double shot of your preferred poison. Swiftly swallowing the elixir of courage, you felt some of the embarrassment melt away. A familiar presence appears beside you, mimicking your knock and drink order. You sigh as Alastor's hand comes into your line of sight, eyes naturally following it as he swirled his drink, before downing it. You couldnt help but focus on the bob of his adam's apple, before you had the decency to look away. Alastor grinned down to you, tilting his head.

"Still troubled by their words, dear?"

You groan," D-Don't call me that, Alastor... Angel's going to feel like he's right," you reply, holding the bridge of your nose. Alastor laughs, leaning against the counter," Oh come now, I'm sure this whole mess will roll off your back by night's end~" Alastor teases, jazz hands accenting his playfuk tone. You groan again, frustrated," UGH, no, if HE'S distracted by that, EVERYONE here will be-- I just-- I don't wanna cause any unnecessary attention. 'For EITHER of us. You have your gambit for tonight, and I have mine... We need this to go WELL, not to be the talk of the town..."

Alastor leans against the counter, back pressing into it as he looks your way. Normally, he would continue to goad you into a precious, pathetic mess, but the look on your face felt too... troubled. You really were overthinking things, his eye catching the way you bit your lip.

The two shots he ingested already softened his edge, his head lolling to the other side," ...'a little advice, then?" You look over at Alastor, surprised by the change of subject.

"Sure. Might as well," you quip, resting your chin on your hand as Husk whisks away your empty glasses.

"If you walk around the room like your hair is on fire, the entire operation goes up in flames... This is commonly seen in management, but works just the same here," Alastor states, pretending to be fascinated with his talons.

"And truly, for tonight, you are the leader, the ringmaster of this event... the others will ask questions, and look to you for guidance. If you walk around like everything is going to fail, then it is destined to. So perk up!" Alastor's hand finds your chin, forcing you to look his way. Your breath catches for a moment, your eyes settling on his face. It was flushed, warm... and a hint of something you can't describe. He was being unreasonably chaste. Is this what Mimzy meant by "sweet as a kitten"?

"I think everything will go as it should, as long as you keep a cool head, dear. And if you can't, well...," Alastor grins as he knocks on the counter, each of you receiving another drink.

"--there's always liquid courage to settle the nerves."

You nod slowly, processing his words. Real, genuine advice... and, some sincerity sprinkled in? Were you really that drunk already??? Deftly, you picked up your glass, almost downing it before Alastor stops you.

" A toast, first."

Alastor grins as he picks up his own glass, clinking it against yours," To your success, my dear."

You move in autopilot as you clink back against his drink," Y-Yeah uhh... to the Hotel's future," you added, the two of swallowing your drinks hastily. Alastor straightens his posture, reaching over to squeeze your arm in reassurance. The radio in the room flicks to a new frequency, changing to a modern, catchy song that you recognized.

" Th-This is--"

"Your favorite, right?" Alastor finishes, his grin widening," Well dear, I am nothing if not accommodating. For tonight, let's have a little fun. Change things up." You nearly jump out of your skin as the front lobby doors begin to open, Alastor's eyes meeting yours.

"I expect to have your first dance. Meet me when you'd like to accept the offer."

And with that, Alastor leaves you, melding into his shadow form to flit to another spot in the room. You blink a few times, still reeling from the entire interaction. You hadn't told Alastor your favorite song. Not even once. And, you never dared to listen to it in front of him, fearing that he would disregard you or even chastise you for your taste.

You feel your heart swelling as you search for Alastor again, mouth falling open in silent protest. You wanted to pester him, ask him how he was able to know something so personal.... However, you are greeted by a sharply dressed demon, all too eager to make your acquaintance.

You allow your hand to be kissed, and pleasantries were exchanged. But ultimately... you felt your eyes constantly searching for Alastor. Maybe Angel was right, you thought... Maybe you did have something going on between the two of you. You felt a blossom that had remained so stubborn finally experience it's long-awaited bloom.

Maybe you did like Alastor. Maybe, just maybe, he liked you too... As the night grew longer, you realized that you just might be content with that.

[suzukiblu]

I beg you desperately and with all the hope that makes a lump in my throat, may we please get some more Jason going home accidentally. My week is testing me aggressively and I'm tipsily seeking comfort.

I tried to write a bit of new content for this but tbh I did not have the spoons or the focus to manage it, so instead here's the whole current story-so-far all put together and all in order behind the cut here, since even the "chrono" tag for this story is not really all that chronological and I'm, like, eighty-five percent sure that there's gotta be at least a COUPLE excerpts in here that haven't gone up yet. If nothing else, I know there's some little bits and pieces I've added or adjusted in editing, and hopefully it'll be a satisfying read to get all in order and all together for . . . quite possibly the first time, yeah, hah.

Well, it's 16.5k, if nothing else, haha.

Sorry for the day or two's wait on getting back to you with this; hope your week's improved, friend.

.

.

Jason fucked up his suppressants somewhere in fucking Barbados, of all places, and by "fucked up" he means "lost in a firefight". 

So that was a problem, definitely. 

He'd had two days before it was going to be a serious problem, though, and a lot of bad guys to deal with before he could deal with said problem. But it would've been fine, if there hadn't been a local supply chain issue with omega suppressants. 

Or it would've been fine if he hadn't been with Roy and Kori at the time. If he hadn't been with two unfairly gorgeous alphas that he'd been relying on to watch his ass for months, who'd both saved his life and carried him out of the shit more than once; who'd both looked at him like he was a real and actual person, still, and had never once been disappointed in the kind of real and actual person that he really and actually was. 

Or maybe just if he hadn't known damn well just how fat both their knots were from Dick's goddamn locker room gossip when he'd been a fucking stupid and stupidly impressionable not-dead-yet teenager. 

Dick was a goddamn beta, the bastard. He shouldn't have even known how good Tamaranean knot supposedly was! That should not have been a thing! 

Jason, unfortunately, had been gifted with an absolute whore with absolutely no shame for a predecessor, and so had spent his accidentally suppressant-free time thinking far, far too much about Dick's goddamn dumbass war stories from his Titans days and exactly how many of them had ended with "and then Kori blew my fucking back out and it was the fucking shit". 

The bastard. 

So yeah, Jason had gone into a stress heat after two lousy missed doses of suppressants, because of fucking course he had! Of fucking course that was his fucking life! 

And of fucking course said stress heat had happened while he was laying low in a bare-bones safehouse with Roy and Kori and a California king and absolutely no other methods of distraction. 

Of course it had. 

.

.

.

"Do you require assistance, friend?" Kori asks, and Jason probably could answer her verbally, but instead he just very literally climbs her and refuses to get down until she promises to blow his fucking back out. And really, he only actually gets down at all because Roy is standing just slightly out of reach and Jason very, very desperately needs to get his mouth on him. 

Just–desperately. 

"Oh–both of us?" Roy manages, his face going bright red. 

"Both of you at once," Jason growls, and then tackles him to that damn California king. Kori is clearly delighted.

Jason is pretty damn delighted too, once he’s gotten both their knots in him. 

Dick had not been exaggerating the locker room talk. If anything, he'd undersold things. Roy was so fucking careful and thorough and Kori was so fucking confident and relentless and Jason was . . . Jason was . . . 

Actually Jason might be in love, maybe? It's possible that this is what being in love is. Like, as a thing. 

Or whatever. 

.

.

.

So Jason had spent a week getting fucked so good that even the pit hadn't had any complaints, and then it'd been back to business as usual for the next couple of months and he hadn't thought about it again outside of his personal time, and maybe once or twice when Roy or Kori had stepped in a little too close or made casual eye contact or just smiled at him like they were actual friends or something, the utter bastards. But otherwise, yeah, no. Business as usual. 

And some very vivid and imaginative new sex dreams and stupid romantic daydream fantasies not as usual. 

But again: whatever. That crap was Future Jason's problem. Current Jason is busy shoving alllll of that inconvenient emotional shit into a nice helpful repression box and just leaving it there to rot, and that’s just gonna be that. 

And no, he isn't reading romance novels again. Shut the fuck up, Roy. It’s Pride and Prejudice, not goddamn bored housewife smut. 

Admittedly, the bored housewife smut might've actually been less embarrassing than the romantic yearning, especially when Kori asks him what his new book’s about and Jason already knows that Roy knows it well enough that he'll be able to tell if he bullshits her, but whatever. 

Last time he watches that stupid A&E miniseries with the prick, no matter how damn good Colin Firth looks in a wet shirt. 

Ugh. 

.

.

.

"We need to talk," Roy says while standing in the middle of a kill floor with a trick arrow nocked and a stranger's blood all over his face. Jason wants to kiss him. Or kill him. Or maybe do both of those things at once? Maybe? But like–biohazards. "Like, about our feelings. Specifically the specific feelings that I am specifically having about the two of you and your specific feelings." 

"Oh!" Kori says with a bright smile as she lights up with both visible delight and destructive solar radiation. She is also very kiss/kill-able right now, Jason thinks, though the radiation thing could also be an issue. "Well, my specific feelings are that you and I should mate our lovely Jason at his earliest possible convenience and then consummate said mating under the stars. Repeatedly. I have refreshed my knowledge of the appropriate Earth customs, so do you think Lian would rather be the flower-bearer or the ring-girl?" 

"I'm going back to Gotham," Jason blurts in panicked self-defense. 

"Is that an invitation or an escape route?" Roy asks, raising an eyebrow at him. 

"I'm going back to Gotham right now," Jason says, which he understands is not an actual answer but is still not going to clarify any more than that. Then he flees the kill floor. He flees the kill floor very, very quickly.

Repression box time. 

.

.

.

So yeah, Jason ditches them both in Prague and heads back to Gotham the long way. He doesn't answer when Roy tries calling his burner, though he does text their very small group chat a vague confirmation that he isn't dead again yet a day or three later. Kori immediately sexts him in response, but he's pretty sure that she just still thinks that's how texting works. 

Look, he hasn't corrected the misassumption. 

Fuck, she is just unfairly attractive all the time, though, isn't she. And even more so when he's desperately trying to avoid her and also his emotions. 

Roy also sexts him, and is also unfairly attractive despite being who he is as a person. Then the two of them get distracted sexting each other instead, and Jason just lets himself pretend that they can't see his "read" receipts as he follows along. 

So he hadn't been all that subtle about how much of a turn-on it'd been the handful of times that they'd gone at each other during his heat despite both being alphas, okay? Sue him. Who the fuck could've been? Not fucking Dick, that's for fucking sure. 

Jason is pretty sure that he will never again see anything as mind-meltingly, panty-soakingly hot as the sight of Roy taking Kori's big fat knot in Jason's own damn heat nest and whining for it in his alpha voice while she so-sweetly told him what a good bitch he was being for her. Just–nope. No. Definitely not. 

Jason didn't even know alpha voices could whine like that. Like, he had not been any kind of aware that was an actual thing that an actual alpha voice could actually do. 

Also they were both a lot more flexible than he'd ever really let himself think about too much before. 

And had a lot more . . . endurance. 

So that'd all been very extremely destructive to his sanity, yeah. And his higher thought processes. 

And just his . . . everything, pretty much. Pretty much his everything, yeah.

.

.

.

Kori and Roy keep sexting the group chat with annoyingly helpful visual aids until Jason has to stop in a shitty motel just outside of Gotham and fuck himself stupid for a few hours, because they're the literal worst teammates in the literal entire world and he hates them both and also he wants both their stupid fucking knots in him right fucking now and Lian can be the flower-bearer and the ring-girl as far as he's concerned, he doesn't even care. 

Bastards. 

.

.

.

Jason catches up with the group chat, takes a very, very cold shower, and then drives the rest of the way towards Gotham. He does not check his phone even one more time, because knowing Roy and Kori he'd probably crash his fucking bike if he did. 

He doesn't think about any fucking romance novel bullshit either. 

It's weird that he misses them already, isn't it? He doesn't usually miss people this quick. At least, not these days. He's gotten too used to being stray for that. 

He's been a stray for so fucking long, it feels like, and he just . . . 

Fuck, he can't even remember the last time he had real packscent on him. Which, well–yeah, of course he can't. That would imply having a pack, wouldn't it. 

He thinks it was Alfred's scent, the last time. 

It must've been. 

He misses Alfred, too. 

Maybe he'll swing by the manor in a few days, once he's settled back into the swing of things in the city and he's shown his face in a few key places and made sure nobody's fucked too much with his territory while he was away. Maybe Alfred's missed him a little himself. Maybe the others won't mind him taking up a little bit of space in their space for an hour or two. Maybe Bruce will . . . 

Fuck, is he high or something? What, exactly, does Jason think Bruce is going to do if he sees him, besides say something shitty to him about how he handles his territory or lives his life or just whatever else? 

Maybe he'll drag his ass back to Ethiopia again. 

Yeah, that'd be a great time. Real fun for the whole family. 

Not that they're any kind of family anymore. 

Bruce doesn't want them to be. Doesn’t want a blooded killer or Crime Alley trash for one of his pack's omegas. Doesn't want to explain Jason being alive or help him establish a cover identity that they could somehow know each other through or publically claim him or do just . . . anything like that. Red Hood has a comm link that can connect to the Bat pack's devices and conditional access to their intel as long as he hasn't either killed anyone or freaked out on pit rage too recently and nothing else. 

He isn't family. 

He isn't pack. 

Hell, even when Jason had been pack to Bruce, it'd only been the two of them and Alfred and the occasional semi-grudging visit from Dick. Nothing like it is now, with more goddamn Bats than a belfry. Now there's Tim and Cass and Steph and Damian and . . . 

Jason knows perfectly well that there isn't a place for him in that pack, much less in the manor. There isn't even a place for him in the cave, unless some absolute asshole decides to count that bullshit memorial. 

Maybe he should tell Bruce how much he fucking hates that memorial, one of these days. Not like Bruce would care, but . . . just–maybe he should. 

One of these days. 

.

.

.

Jason is distracted, he thinks. Or not thinking, maybe? 

Or just very fucking stupid, maybe. 

There's literally no other reason he would've just driven his bike up the road to goddamn Wayne Manor first thing into Bristol. Which . . . whatever, he's not in Red Hood's gear right now, that's all packed away in his go-bag, but still. He knows better than to pull this kind of shit. 

He's not welcome at the manor. He doesn't deserve to be. Not after what he's done. What he's become. What he is. 

And even if he ever were welcome, he still wouldn't belong here. 

Jason wants so, so fucking badly for that not to be true. 

But it is true, of course. It's always been true. 

Always was true. 

Jason parks his bike outside the front gate and checks the group chat. Roy and Kori are–mostly–done sexting and are talking about flowers, the fucking weirdos. Like they'd even bother having a ceremony if they actually did get mated. Who'd even care? 

Not anyone on his side of the goddamn aisle, that's for fucking sure. And what, they're gonna invite Blackfire and Green Arrow? 

Yeah, no. Definitely not. 

Jason thinks about the absolutely ludicrous idea of texting his opinion on mating ceremony flowers to the chat, but doesn't. 

He feels . . . off, kind of. Restless. Nervous. Nauseous. 

Like fucking crying his fucking eyes out until he fucking dies. 

Again. 

He really misses Alfred. It's a little late–late enough that he's definitely missed dinner, but not really late enough to interfere with anyone's patrol schedule. He could just . . . duck in for a bit. Check in. See what the old man's been up to and catch up on the pack gossip like he actually deserves to know any of it. 

Maybe Alfred would let him sneak into the cookie jar like he always pretends he isn't gonna. 

Jason still remembers every single goddamn cookie recipe Alfred ever let him help him with back in the day, but somehow not a one of them has ever tasted the same as they do when he's sneaking them out of that stupidly fancy old cookie jar or off a cooling rack on one of Alfred's immaculate kitchen counters. Not even close. 

Jason really wants one of those cookies right now. And also Alfred. And also . . . 

And also he wants to be fifteen and afraid of absolutely nothing, with Bruce's pack bite on his neck and Robin's cape around his shoulders and the certainty of having a place, of being something, being someone, being . . . 

Belonging. 

Like he thinks he has the fucking right to, or something. 

He texts the group chat. 

i am the stupidest motherfucker alive or dead, he says. 

fuck u zomboy thats my crown n i will fight u 4 it, Roy says. 

are you well, loveliest? Kori asks, and thoughtfully includes a shot of her tits, which are as irritatingly resplendent as ever. Especially because her come is currently smeared all over them, but Jason's just gonna have to process that particular image a little bit later, when he's not having a weird emotional crisis in the manor driveway over fucking cookies. 

Though he saves the pic to come back to for said "later", obviously. He's having a crisis, yeah, but he's not an idiot. 

i want a cookie, he says. 

. . . like in a sexy way or in an emotional regression way?? Roy says. 

i fucking hate your new therapist

regression it is ok!! well u gotta b in gotham by now right?? go c ur man alfie n ask him 4 the hookup

go to hell and burn there

Roy sends him a dick pic in response, probably so Kori won't wonder why they aren't being as porny as usual and start to emulate them. Jason grudgingly saves it for later too and also fucking hates him. 

we can provide you with all the emotional regression cookies you wish, loveliest, Kori says, including a very nice shot of her half-blown knot that makes Jason's traitor of a mouth water. He glazes over briefly and really hopes Babs isn't creeping on the cell phone towers yet tonight. He's almost sure that wasn't actually meant to be a come-on, but . . . we would be most appreciative of the opportunity to satisfy your desires.

Never mind. Definitely a come-on. 

. . . almost definitely. 

It is Kory. 

Jason saves the new pic, obviously, and then sighs to himself. 

if you never see me again, it was possibly tim but probably damian who did me in, he types out resignedly. in which case, either fair or fair play

k but what if it was dick tho?? Roy asks. 

then i want you to burn down this whole fucking city in my fucking name, Jason says. 

it would be our honor, loveliest, Kori says hopefully not too sincerely. 

Then again, "burned down by a sexy alien on a vengeance bender" is a lot better of an end than Gotham really deserves at this point. And anyway, Jason's not gonna tell Kori how to live her life. 

He puts his burner away and looks up at the manor. The lights are on, obviously. It's getting dark, so why wouldn't they be? 

He still really wants that stupid cookie. 

Jason sighs again, then gets off his bike. He'll just go up and knock, and if no one's too busy to answer then he'll just . . . go in for a little while. That's all. He has a key, technically, but he's never fucking used it and he's never fucking going to, outside of maybe a possible life or death or global crisis-level emergency. 

This isn't his home. Not anymore. 

So yeah. He's not gonna use the damn key. 

Jason walks up to the door. It smells like Bruce has touched it. Not especially recently–not any more recently than this morning, at least–but still. It smells like Bruce has touched it. 

Which it obviously would. It always does. Bruce is the pack alpha, after all. He scents this door all the damn time. It's always smelled like him. This stupid fucking door has smelled like it belongs to Bruce for a lot longer than Jason ever got to. 

It smells like Alfred has touched it too. And Dick, and Damian, and Duke, and . . . 

Fuck, he can even smell traces of Selina on it. 

No trace of himself, though. 

He hasn't been in Gotham, Jason reminds himself. He hasn't been in Gotham and he doesn't belong in the manor anyway and this isn't his home anymore. So it shouldn't hurt, that this stupid fucking door doesn't smell like him. It really shouldn't. 

It shouldn't, but . . . but he still feels off, kind of, and he just . . . he isn't really . . . 

He feels off. Really, really off. 

The door is really bothering him. And he really wants a cookie. And . . . and something . . . 

Something's wrong. He's forgetting something. 

Is he forgetting something? 

Jason frowns to himself and pulls out his burner again. Checks the notes app. Checks his calendar. Checks his . . . 

Wait. 

Jason stares at his apps. 

Stares at his cycle tracker, which he hasn't opened all month. 

Or all of last month. 

Stress heat, he reminds himself abruptly. Stress heats throw off people's cycles all the time. And he's never been all that regular anyway, really, especially since dying and getting dumped in the pit. 

Except he's been being an overemotional absolute fucking lunatic for weeks now and he already misses Roy and Kori after three lousy days and he came to the fucking manor without even fucking meaning to and . . . 

Fuck. 

Fuck. 

Jason, very calmly, unlocks the front door with the key he's never once used. Then he bolts into the manor and beelines for the second-nearest bathroom, because Bruce is always over-prepared and that's the one where they always used to keep the pads and tampons and birth control and fucking pregnancy tests. 

And still is, apparently. 

Jason finds a test. He takes the test. 

He sits down to wait for the test. 

He doesn't think a single damn thing, because it'd be pointless. He doesn't have all the information. No point in catastrophizing when he doesn't even know anything yet. 

So he doesn't think. 

.

.

.

The timer on Jason's phone flashes. He looks at the test. 

It's positive. 

And if it's accurate, then doing the math, "bred" has got to be bleeding into his scent by now. Which Roy and Kori were probably already subconsciously noticing at least a week ago, so no fucking wonder they've been talking about their fucking feelings in the middle of fucking kill floors and saying they want to fucking mate him and won't stop sexting and fussing over him. 

Shit. 

He's pregnant. He's pregnant and he probably fucking smells pregnant and he's in the fucking manor like this. 

He really is the stupidest motherfucker alive or dead. 

. . . and he's pregnant. 

.

.

.

Jason snaps the test in half and buries it in one of the hidden scent-blocked pockets at the bottom of his go-bag and just . . . thinks. Or tries to think, anyway. He's pregnant, and he was stupid enough to let himself come to the manor like he's actually a part of this pack–like he's a fucking traditionalist or a romantic coming home to present his pack with his pups and nest up with them all safe and protected until he whelps. Like this pack would even want his pups, much less want to put up with him and all his bullshit for that long. 

God, he's such an idiot. 

He should've fucking known. He should've just gone to the opposite side of the goddamn planet and denned down there and blocked Roy and Kori's numbers and deleted all the Bats' and broken his phone for good measure. He should've paid more attention to taking his birth control on time while he was on the road and not begged Roy and Kori to knot him raw for his heat no matter how good it'd felt. He should've . . . he should've . . . 

He should've . . . 

Jason paces from one end of the bathroom to the other. He paces back the other way. He thinks about panic-texting Roy and Kori for advice or sneaking out to get an abortion before anyone can find out he's bred or never telling anyone this happened ever or running away to Talia or having a fucking anxiety attack on the fucking bathroom floor. 

He thinks, very briefly, about going and presenting the pack with his pups. Like he's an absolute fucking moron or something. 

But he thinks about it, and once he's thought about it . . . once he's considered it . . . 

Jason twists his hands together. Jason paces the bathroom. Jason grits his teeth. 

Jason thinks about presenting the pack with his pups. Presenting the Wayne pack with his pups. 

Not the Bat pack. 

His hands fist against his sides. His shoulders tighten. 

His stomach does nothing except for what it's already doing, which is carry a pup or two or . . . however many. Jason was a single, he semi-reliably knows. Roy was . . . maybe a single? He's pretty sure? And he only sired Lian on Cheshire, at least as far as Cheshire ever admitted to anyone. But Kori and Komand'r and Ryand'r were a litter of three, right? Or Jason thinks they were, anyway. 

Probably asking Kori about that right now would be suspicious. Or at the very least give her and Roy the wrong idea about Jason's opinion of them all actually getting mated. 

Not that it'd actually be the wrong idea so much as . . . 

Fuck, who even knows which one of them actually knocked him up. Maybe both of them did–that happens sometimes, with omegas. Especially when the potential sires are alphas. Technically he thinks it's even possible for female betas, though that's a hell of a lot rarer and really more of a–

Just, Jesus, what in actual hell is Jason gonna do if he ends up whelping a half-alien kid in Gotham? Or if he has to explain to Lian that she's not her daddy's only pup anymore? Or if–

Jason pictures a sweet little redheaded newborn all nestled up to his chest, maybe softly glowing and floating or adorably stupid and wickedly clever or just ridiculously tiny and defenseless and all those other things all at once, and feels far, far too many feelings about the idea. His heart fucking hurts with how many feelings he feels about that fucking idea, in fact. 

Alright. Ruled out sneaking out to get an abortion, apparently. 

Dammit. 

Jason can't actually be a real mom, though. He can't protect a pup with his lifestyle, much less properly raise one. Catherine at least tried even in the worst of her addiction, but that doesn’t mean she was in any place to actually do all that good a job, and Sheila was just an absolute piece of shit as both a dam and a person, and those are his only examples so far as "mothering" behavior goes because he is just not emotionally prepared to ever count Selina–and not even because of her actually being an alpha and therefore more the "fathering" type or all the times he tried to get her arrested back in the day. So just–just how would he ever know how to be a mom for some poor stupid kid who'd probably be just as much of a mouthy, difficult brat as he'd always been? How would he know how to be a mom for a kid genetically crazy enough to jack the fucking Batmobile's tires? How?!

Maybe . . . maybe Roy would want them, though, or . . . or something. He wants Lian even though she's Cheshire's, after all. And like, Jason is also a fucking murderer, yeah, but he’s at least never done it for the fucking money. And who knows, maybe Kori would want them herself, if they were hers. Like–that might be a thing, for all he knows. She’s got worse people than him in her immediate nuclear family, for fuck’s sake. She might not care about the pup having a dam like him any more than Roy probably would. 

Jason would have to actually ask to know if either of them would actually want a pup that was half him, of course, which just sounds like some fresh fucking hell right there. Just . . . absolute and total hell, yeah. 

If they didn’t, though . . . well, he couldn't put the pup up for adoption unless he was absolutely sure they weren't Kori's, given the whole alien superpowers and horrible genetic experiments issue, obviously, but that's what DNA tests are for, right? And even if they were, he could probably– 

. . . wait, fuck, does he maybe have, like–alien royalty in his gut right now? Is that an actual concern that he has to actually be concerned about? 

Fuuuuuck, it really might be. 

Well, that'd be fun to explain to Bruce. 

. . . not that Jason is actually going to be explaining any of this to Bruce, of course. Ever. Just–fuck that, fully and completely. 

Please let Tamaran as a whole just not care about this pup, like, ever. Just–never. Please. 

Please. 

They shouldn’t, at least, because why the hell would they? Jason is slightly undead and fully murderous Crime Alley trash with no prospects and no legal identity and no pack that would ever claim him. There isn't a single planet in this or any galaxy that would be happy about hearing one of its princesses knocked up someone like him. Best-case scenario, they just cut the kid out of the line of succession completely and never ever ask them to visit. 

Maybe he should just be hoping it's Roy's pup. Or pups. Or whatever. 

Still could be Roy and Kori's pups, of course. That's still a disaster that could very easily be happening right now. 

Jason tries to imagine raising a pup that knew they were superpowered alien royalty alongside a completely human pup that knew that their sire already had another pup and just . . . does not want to deal with that particular potential parenting minefield. Ever. 

Fuck, talk about sibling rivalry. And that without even considering Komand'r being in the family tree. Or him and his whole . . . everything with Tim, basically. 

Please, please let the universe at least have the mercy to let this pup be a single, Jason prays. He just seriously can't have any more attempted fratricide or whatever in the not-technically-family.  He really can't deal with that. He's hit his lifetime limit. He's done. Finished. All wrapped up. Tapped out. 

Or he's currently carrying the second coming of Cain and Abel. Whichever. 

Fuck his life. 

Jason exhales. Inhales. Tries not to panic or catastrophize or freak the fuck out. Really, really wants an Alfred cookie. 

Really wants Alfred. Alfred could fix this. Alfred could make this better. Alfred could–could– 

Jason wants Alfred. Jason wants– 

Jason exhales. 

Inhales. 

Jason . . . 

.

.

.

Jason catches a scent. Jason . . . follows the scent. 

Yes. He follows the scent. The scent is what he wants. The scent will make things better. The scent will . . . 

Jason leaves the bathroom. Crosses the foyer. Goes down the hall. Heads into the back of the house, where everything smells like tea and coffee and sweet, sweet things. 

And like a very calm and steady and nurturing beta. 

A very specific calm and steady and nurturing beta. 

Jason walks into the kitchen. There's a couple of other packmates at the table; he ignores them. He loves them, obviously, but they're not who he's here for. 

Grandpa is standing at the counter, pouring tea. It smells nice. Soothing. Sweet. 

Not as nice as Grandpa's soft and steady pheromones, though. 

"Master Jason, what a pleasant surprise," Grandpa says, setting down the tea to smile at him in a way that makes Jason feel very, very warm and very, very overwhelmed. "I didn't even hear you knock. Would you like a cup?" 

Jason is vaguely aware that he should say something that counts as an actual response to . . . any of that, he guesses. 

He really doesn't care, though. He just drops his go-bag full of Red Hood's gear and all his useless weapons and the snapped-in-half pregnancy test on the kitchen floor and heads straight over to Grandpa and ducks his face down to bury in his neck and breath in his scent. Soft. Steady. 

Pack. 

"Master Jason, are you–" Grandpa starts, sounding alarmed, and Jason grabs his hand and puts it on his own stomach and just–

Purrs. 

Grandpa inhales. Gets Jason's scent too, Jason assumes. 

And chokes, very quietly. 

"Jason," he says, sounding absolutely wrecked, and Jason purrs again. 

"Holy crap," a packmate says disbelievingly. It's–Little Brother. Not Pup Brother or New Brother or Big Brother. Little Brother, who smells like too much coffee and not enough sleep and sounds very surprised about something, and–unsurprisingly–has a laptop set up on the table in front of him. 

"Alfred, oh my god, I have literally never heard you say a single one of our names without a ‘Miss’ or a 'Master' or anything attached, is Jason fucking dying?" the other packmate at the table demands worriedly. Loud Sister–not Quiet Sister. Loud Sister smells like less coffee than Little Brother and a rush of nervous energy and also sounds very surprised. Jason wonders why. 

Well, it's not really important, he guesses. 

"Present," he croons lowly, pressing Grandpa's hand tighter against his stomach, and Grandpa puts his other hand on the back of Jason's neck and squeezes it very, very tight. 

It feels nice. 

Jason purrs again. 

"Ohmygod," Loud Sister chokes. 

"Jason," Grandpa says again, his voice all rough and aching as his fingers splay against Jason's stomach just where the pup should be. Or . . . pups? Maybe pups, yeah. More would be better, right? Lots of pups for the pack. 

And lots of grandpups for Alpha. 

That would be nice, Jason thinks, purring louder. 

Jason nuzzles Grandpa's throat and leans down into him. Grandpa swallows. Tightens his grip on the back of Jason's neck. It still feels nice. 

Jason thinks . . . it's been a long time, he thinks, since someone held his neck like this. 

Too long. 

"Okay, so he's definitely feral right now," Little Brother says. "And not in the pit rage way." 

"Ohhhhh so very feral right now," Loud Sister agrees. Jason wonders who they're talking about, but isn't really worried about it either way. They're all in the pack den. They're all safe. So if somebody in the pack is feral right now, they can just ride it out here and they'll be fine. So it's fine. "But he came here? Like . . . I'm not being crazy, right, he's presenting his pup to us right now, isn't he? Like–really presenting it to us?" 

"Well, to Alfred," Little Brother says. "But uh . . . yeah, I think so." 

"Grandpa," Jason says contentedly, squeezing the back of Grandpa's hand again. Grandpa makes a choked noise. "Great-Grandpa." 

"Fuck, I think I kinda wanna cry," Loud Sister says. 

"Would you like to . . . nest, perhaps? Master Jason?" Grandpa asks carefully, clearing his throat. Jason considers the question. Nest means warm. Safe. Good things for the pup. Or pups? 

Whichever. 

"Nest," he agrees contentedly, nuzzling Grandpa's throat again. His scent is so nice. Jason's missed it so, so much. 

Jason missed Grandpa's scent before he ever even knew it existed, he thinks. 

"Then would you prefer your bedroom or the front living room for it? Or . . . somewhere else?" Grandpa asks even more carefully. Jason considers again. The bedroom would be easier to defend. Smaller. Harder for the pack to come visit, though. More out of the way. And if he needed backup, they'd be farther off. The front living room is right up by the foyer, though. Easy for everyone to check in when they come home or before they leave. Lots of room for them all to fit in it, too. He can't really think of a better option for that. 

"Living room," Jason decides. Grandpa makes another choked noise. 

"Of course, Master Jason," he says, his voice all tight. "Please come with me.” 

Jason purrs. 

Grandpa takes his hand and takes him to the front living room. Jason knows where it is, obviously, but it's nice being taken anyway. Grandpa wants him to nest. Grandpa wants his pups. He thinks Jason did good and he's pleased with him for doing good. 

Good, Jason thinks. 

"I'll just be a moment, Master Jason," Grandpa says thickly, then ushers him through the door and leaves him in the living room. Little Brother and Loud Sister linger in the foyer, Little Brother’s laptop tucked under his arm. Jason didn't even notice them following them. 

Well, it's helpful that they did. 

"Pillows," he tells them matter-of-factly because there aren’t really very many nesting pillows in here, and then starts fussing over the blankets draped over the couch as they both share a brief glance before heading off, hopefully in search of the requested pillows. 

The pup definitely needs pillows, Jason knows. And his nest definitely needs pillows, too. 

It won’t be big enough, if there aren’t more pillows. 

.

.

.

Jason turns the front living room upside down and most of the assorted blankets and pillows that he finds in it smell like pack, so they're good, but a couple smell more like Pup Brother's suitors, so those ones Jason tosses out into the foyer. Pup Brother's suitors are . . . fine, he guesses? But not for his nest. 

"What on earth are you doing in there, Todd?" Pup Brother himself asks, eyeing the crumpled blankets on the foyer floor. Quiet Sister is standing beside him and looks excited, leaning forward towards the doorway on her tiptoes. Jason didn't hear them coming, but he wasn't all that worried about listening for anyone either. Also, they're both very quiet when they move anyway. 

"Nest," he says. He doesn't think he's being all that subtle here, but Pup Brother didn't get a traditional pack upbringing, he knows. At least, not the kind that allowed for nesting. That's not really how the League works. 

He definitely never nested when he was with the League. 

". . . nest?" Pup Brother asks, and just a little hinted flash of curiosity crosses the back of his eyes for a moment. Does Pup Brother ever build nests, Jason wonders? He's an omega too. He should learn how, if he hasn't yet. 

"Nest," he repeats firmly, then gestures beckoningly with a blanket that smells acceptably of packscent. Nobody specifically stronger than anybody else; just an easy tangle of a whole mess of different packmates all mixed in together. Pup Brother frowns, looking confused. 

Nest! Quiet Sister signs delightedly before giving Pup Brother an encouraging push into the living room. She doesn't come in herself, though. Which–Quiet Sister is an alpha, of course, so that makes sense. Jason just wasn't sure if she'd know the etiquette, all things considered. 

Well, he isn’t sure if Pup Brother does either, really, but that’s fine. He’s the one who’s supposed to teach Pup Brother that kind of thing anyway. 

"Er," Pup Brother says doubtfully, glancing between them. "Do you require . . . assistance, Todd?" 

Jason dumps an armful of throw pillows on him, then starts demonstrating how to arrange them on the floor. Pup Brother frowns again, holding the unused pillows in his arms and observing the building process intently. Jason’s pleased by that. Pup Brother should learn this. Pup Brother should learn this, so he's showing Pup Brother this. So he's being good! Very good. A good omega. Yes! 

They're both being good. 

So that's good. 

Jason purrs some more. Quiet Sister flutters her hands happily, still waiting in the doorway. Jason wants to invite her in, but really needs to get the nest more established first. 

He'll let her in the nest itself, he already knows. Once it's done, obviously. Quiet Sister probably hasn't really been in a nest before–Pup Brother is the only other omega in the pack, after all, and she doesn't have an omega mate or any omega friends, so when would she have? 

. . . unless she's still courting that weird flirty omega from Little Brother's other pack, maybe? The sort-of-alien-sort-of-human one that makes cloud castles and almost drowned with her in a basement that one time or whatever. Whatever his name is. 

Or . . . wait, was Little Brother the one courting him? 

Hm. 

Well, maybe they both were. Jason isn't really sure, come to think. 

He'll ask later, he decides, and lays down some more throw pillows. Either way he's still inviting Quiet Sister into his nest once it's done. Quiet Sister deserves all the nests she can get. 

Jason hopes she'll like his. 

He finishes with the throw pillows and starts looking for more blankets. Grandpa is back in the doorway with a whole stack of them, which is very conveniently timed and therefore very Grandpa. 

"I was not aware that Todd could become feral without invoking the pit," Pup Brother says skeptically. 

"I suppose maternal instinct has somewhat superseded its effects for the time being," Grandpa replies with a wry, warm smile, looking a bit misty-eyed. Jason purrs at him again, then takes the stack of blankets and starts shaking them out and sorting through them for suitability. They all smell good–all smell like pack. 

"‘Maternal instinct’?" Pup Brother repeats blankly. 

"That seems to be why Master Jason is here tonight, Master Damian," Grandpa says. "He is presenting us with his pup." 

"He–oh!" Pup Brother says, his eyes widening as Quiet Sister beams. "I didn't–realize. Er. Should I be . . . in here?" 

Jason teach, Quiet Sister signs. Pup Brother looks flustered. Damian learn.

"Oh," Pup Brother says just a little weakly. "I–er. Yes. Very well." 

Jason purrs at him too, then resumes sorting the new blankets. This one smells like New Brother, and this one smells like Big Brother and his mate, and this one . . . 

Oh. 

Jason . . . pauses. The blanket in his hands is soft and heavy and dark and smells like . . . smells like . . . 

It smells like Alpha. 

"Is that one . . . acceptable, Master Jason?" Grandpa asks quietly. 

Jason rubs his thumbs across his grip on the blanket. Buries his mouth in the edge of it just long enough to taste the pheromones scenting it. Breathes it in. 

Yes. It smells like Alpha. 

Their alpha. 

Jason lays the Alpha-scented blanket over the bottom of his growing nest like a foundation, purring soft and reverent as he tucks all the corners in, and then resumes building from there. Grandpa makes a very quiet choked noise again. 

"Delivery," Little Brother says as he and Loud Sister reappear in the doorway with more nesting pillows than Jason actually realized were in the entire pack den. Good, he thinks, crooning approvingly as he nudges Pup Brother to go and fetch them. Good for his mates' pups. Lots of pillows. Lots of warm and soft. 

Just–lots. 

"Do we know who sired Todd's pup?" Pup Brother asks warily as he ferries back the nesting pillows just a little awkwardly. It’s going to take him a few trips to get them all, but Jason doesn't mind. There's no rush. 

"He hasn't said," Grandpa says. 

"Surely we should inquire, then," Pup Brother says. "It seems . . . important." 

"Damian, you and Bruce are literally the only people in this pack currently living with any kind of a blood relative," Loud Sister tells him wryly. "Except for Jason and the baby now, I guess. And also that is a super-rude kind of question to ask somebody who's in feral drop anyway." 

"Well, they could be someone dangerous," Pup Brother grumbles. "Or a civilian, in which case they would need to be retrieved as soon as possible." 

"‘Retrieved’?" Little Brother asks with a frown. "What for?” 

"They would not be safe outside the manor," Pup Brother says. "The sire of the first pups of our pack's next generation would be a valuable target for our enemies." 

". . . okay, good point there," Little Brother mutters as he and Loud Sister both wince. "Uh, Jason? Who'd you spend your last heat with?" 

"Mine," Jason replies, contentedly fluffing the new layer of pillows in his nest. It’s much more important than that question. 

". . . your what, exactly?" Loud Sister tries. 

"Mine," Jason repeats, still more absorbed in the process of nest-building than anything else. They can talk once his nest is done, he figures. If they really have to, he means. "My . . . mmmmm. My sun. And my arsenal." 

"Please don't mean a Kryptonian when you say 'sun'," Little Brother mutters under his breath. "Or an assassin when you say 'arsenal'." 

"I love them," Jason replies in satisfaction, and lays down another blanket. This one smells like Grandpa. It's so nice. 

"Oh wow, Jason just actually admitted an emotional attachment willingly and in cold blood and without triggering the pit," Loud Sister says, her eyes wide. "Yeah, okay, we reaaaaally shouldn't have asked about the sire." 

"No, Damian's right," Little Brother says, shaking his head. "This is important. They could be in danger. Or, uh, planning to attack us. Depending. Are your sun and your arsenal civilians, Jason?" 

Jason laughs. 

That's such a funny question. 

"They're gonna burn down Gotham for me," he says dreamily. 

"Not the most reassuring answer but noted," Little Brother says. "Are they going to burn it down with, I don't know, specifically heat vision?" 

Jason laughs again. 

"I'm just gonna call Kon real quick," Little Brother says, pulling out his phone. 

"Isn't he an omega?" Loud Sister asks doubtfully. 

"Yeah, but Supergirl's an alpha," Little Brother says. "And, relatedly, so is Power Girl." 

Jason takes a moment to think about Power Girl. Just, like . . . as a person and everything. And as an experience.  

He purrs.

". . . yeah, definitely call Kon," Loud Sister says, half-eyeing him for some reason. 

Little Brother calls. 

"Hey, Tim," Little Brother's phone hums as Jason's busy demonstrating how to build up the sides of the nest for Pup Brother, who's still watching the process intently. "What's up, dude?" 

Oh. It's the cloud castle omega, Jason realizes. 

"I forget which one of you's courting him," he muses distractedly as he reinforces the nest a little more. He’s pretty sure he knew, anyway. But maybe not. 

"Wait, who's getting courted?" Little Brother's phone asks, sounding puzzled. 

"Nothing! No one!" Little Brother sputters as he turns red. So maybe he's the one doing the courting, then? But also Quiet Sister is leaning in towards the phone with a very pleased expression on her face, so maybe not. 

"Kon," she says happily. 

"Oh, hey there, Batbabe," Little Brother's phone says, sounding pretty pleased too. "Nice to hear from you again." 

"Kon," Quiet Sister repeats in a low and carrying alpha-voiced rumble, which may or may not count as an actual response to her, and the phone giggles flirtatiously. Little Brother makes a face. 

"Kon, do you know if Power Girl might've heat-partnered Hood recently?" he cuts in quickly. "Or . . . ever, I guess?" 

"I don't know, Tim, do you remember how we talked about boundaries and how some people still have them even when they're wearing coordinating superhero costumes?" his phone asks dryly. 

"Yes," Little Brother very clearly lies. 

"Yeah, well, Power Girl and I definitely have them," his phone says. "Despite the super-hearing and the X-ray vision and how absolutely desperately I want her to throw me down and fucking rail me, which should tell you a lot." 

"Jason just showed up at the manor pregnant and feral with literally no warning and when we asked him who the sire was he just called them his 'sun'," Little Brother says. 

". . . alright well so much for boundaries, I guess," his phone says. "Lemme text her." 

"Thank you," Little Brother says in relief. 

"You're just lucky that you're cute and I'm easy," his phone scoffs. "Hmmm. She says 'no, does he need me to?' Lucky bitch." 

"Dammit," Little Brother says. “Alright, thanks anyway. I’ll see you this weekend.” 

“Such a romantic,” his phone teases. “Speaking of heat-partnering, you bringin’ Cass along next time?” 

Quiet Sister rumbles warmly. Little Brother’s phone laughs, then purrs back. Little Brother looks briefly sour. 

“Sure, great, thanks,” he says. “Bye, Kon.” 

“Hate to see you go, love to watch you leave,” his phone coos, and Little Brother ends the call with an exasperated expression. 

“Why is he like this,” he mutters. “Why don’t I have better taste?” 

“Because you are an idiot,” Pup Brother informs him. Little Brother eyes him dubiously. 

“Helpful as always, demon brat, thank you,” he says. “Alright, it’s not Power Girl, so small favors. I don’t know how concerned we should be at this point, honestly. It might just be, I don’t know, some random assassin’s kid or something.” 

“Ugh, I hope not, a Kryptonian’s pup would’ve been way less of a problem than an assassin’s,” Loud Sister huffs, making a face as she folds her arms. 

“. . . explain that logic, please,” Little Brother says. 

“Kryptonian babies don’t get superpowers until the sun happens to them, so they wouldn’t accidentally hurt him kicking around in-utero or anything, so we’ve got nine months ‘til shit might get complicated,” Loud Sister replies reasonably. “But assassin babies come with at least one guaranteed murderous relative and probably also-murderous rivals of said relative who are all already grown-ass murderous adults that probably don’t care about stabbing pregnant people.” 

“I hate our lives,” Little Brother mutters, putting his face in his hands. 

“Assassins will not be a concern,” Grandpa says dismissively, and Jason feels warm and safe. Anyone else, that might just be an assumption. From Grandpa, it’s a promise. 

He loves him so much. He loves all of them, obviously, but Grandpa he loves so much. He purrs happily in his direction, and Grandpa's face goes soft for a moment, and then solid as steel. 

“You’re safe here, my boy,” he says quietly. and Jason purrs again and stacks up some more nesting pillows. He knows that. Grandpa’s here, so of course he does. The pack’s here. He’s not alone this time, so he’s safe. 

And Alpha will be home soon, too. 

So yes. He’s safe. His pup is safe. 

He wouldn’t have brought them here if they wouldn’t be. 

Jason stacks up a few more nesting pillows; drapes another blanket over them and tucks in all the loose corners of it. He’s making sloping walls. He likes those the best. They’re the nicest. 

( Mama built her nests with sloping walls. real Mama. not the liar.

he always wanted his nests to be like hers. )

This blanket smells like Loud Sister. A little bit like Quiet Sister too, but mostly like her. It’s nice too. Jason checks the corners of it, then gets more pillows. 

“I was unaware this was such an involved process,” Pup Brother says, sounding perplexed. 

“Depends on both the omega and the situation, but yeah, kinda tends to be,” Loud Sister says with a shrug, then glances towards the door. “Who’s–” 

Brother, Quiet Sister signs, unconcerned. Jason perks reflexively, because there’s only two options left for that sign, and–

Ah. No, he can smell New Brother coming; not Big Brother. Well, that’s alright. Jason doesn’t know New Brother very well yet, but he should be here. Obviously he should. The whole pack should. He’s pupped now, so they’re all just going to have to hurry up and get home to meet them. Her. Him. It? 

. . . whatever. Jason doesn’t even understand most of the human genders, much less any Tamaranean ones. The pup can just tell him when they figure it out. 

“Hey, what’s everybody doing in–” New Brother starts to ask as he walks into the foyer, and then catches sight of Jason and startles in surprise. “Oh!” 

Jason hums in idle acknowledgement at him, but doesn’t look up from the nest. New Brother is a beta; he doesn’t need nesting lessons. Though he could come in, Jason supposes. 

To the room, he means. Not the nest. He doesn’t know him well enough for that yet. 

. . . maybe later, though. Mm. Yeah–later, maybe. 

But Pup Brother and Quiet Sister first. 

“Jason came home,” Little Brother says. “Came home pregnant, specifically. He’s presenting his pup to–well, he presented them to Alfred, technically, I think the rest of us were more incidental in that. But he did let Steph and I get him pillows and he’s teaching Damian how to nest. Also he's definitely feral as hell right now, so keep that in mind.” 

“Huh,” New Brother says, looking bemused. “I . . . was not under the impression that he would literally ever do any of that. Except maybe for the going feral part, though in that case I would’ve expected more blood and screaming and murder. Uh–no offense.” 

“None taken, I’m sure, Master Duke,” Grandpa says dryly. 

“I didn’t mean–I just, you know, I didn’t think he really considered the manor home anymore,” New Brother says awkwardly, and Jason . . . Jason feels a little unsettled, and thinks . . . is that . . . right, or . . . ? 

“This manor will be a home to Master Jason for as long as it stands,” Grandpa says, simple and certain, and Jason is immediately soothed. Grandpa knows, after all. So if Grandpa says so, it’s true. “To all of you. No matter what.” 

Jason loves him so much, he thinks contentedly, and layers a few more pillows. 

“We should call Bruce, actually,” Little Brother says. “Do you think we should call Bruce?” 

“No,” Grandpa says. “Master Bruce will just rile himself up on the way home if we call him and show up in an alpha snit. Best to just let him arrive as scheduled. He should be on his way by now anyway.” 

“I guess, yeah,” Little Brother says, biting his lip. “I don’t know, I just feel like we should call him.” 

“We should call Dick,” New Brother says. “Speaking of people who’re gonna get riled about this.” 

“Ooo, good point,” Loud Sister says with a wince, tapping her lip. “Where is he tonight again?” 

“Master Dick and Miss Barbara are already enroute as well,” Grandpa says, linking his hands neatly in front of himself. “I did call them. Though I will admit that I did not specify the purpose of my call, only that there was vital pack business to be attended to at the manor.” 

“Alfred, I’m pretty sure you gave them a heart attack,” Loud Sister says with a wince. “Like you definitely gave them a heart attack.” 

“I did not say that it was urgently vital,” Grandpa replies, clearly unconcerned. “Master Jason, are you hungry? Would you like something for the pup?” 

Jason pauses consideringly, mulling that over, then nods agreeably. The pup needs fed, yes. The pup definitely needs fed. Especially if there's more than one. They have to grow up strong and healthy. They need taken care of. 

“For the pup,” he confirms. And he still wants a cookie, too. 

He really wants a cookie. 

A cookie would be nice. 

“Just a moment, then, Master Jason,” Grandpa says, then heads off towards the kitchen. Jason hums contentedly to himself–because Grandpa–and then goes back to showing Pup Brother how to nest. 

“Damian is also fine with this?” New Brother mutters in an aside to Little Brother and Loud Sister. “Like, that’s a thing?” 

“Damian is, more pressingly, not deaf,” Pup Brother says dubiously. New Brother looks momentarily embarrassed, then just shrugs. 

“Look, you can’t tell me it’s not a valid question,” he says. Pup Brother glowers at him. 

“Todd is an omega who trained within the League of Assassins,” he says. “He is the most acceptable candidate to provide me with these teachings.” 

“They nest in the League?” Loud Sister asks skeptically. 

“No,” Pup Brother says, the corner of his jaw momentarily tightening. “They do not.” 

“Oh,” she says, just barely wincing. Jason purrs encouragingly at Pup Brother, then reaches out and tugs him in close enough to rub his wrists along the scent glands in his throat, scenting him with nest safe-nest-safe-nest pack-omega-protect. Pup Brother stands very, very still for it very, very stiffly. Jason purrs again, then nuzzles his hair before taking the rest of the pillows he’s holding from him and working on working them into the nest. Pup Brother stays still one moment longer, then heads back to the pillows left by the door and scoops them up to bring back. Jason purrs approvingly again, and a very faint note of . . . acknowledgment, maybe, enters Pup Brother’s scent. 

Pup Brother’s scent very rarely gives off anything but challenge or disdain, if it gives off anything at all. The only ones in the pack with more control over their pheromones are Quiet Sister and Grandpa, Jason thinks. Even Alpha can’t hold himself back as well. 

Alpha grew up different, of course, Jason remembers idly, and fluffs up a few of the pillows before placing them. 

He turns over the pillows consideringly once or twice, then fluffs them again. After a while Grandpa comes back with a small stack of folded clothes and a tray of little sandwiches and cut-up celery sticks and apple slices with peanut butter to dip them in, and Jason very vaguely remembers being twelve years old and consistently not hungry for maybe the first time he could remember and that one weird, stupid phase where he’d refused to eat anything without cheap store-brand peanut butter being involved and driven Grandpa very politely up the wall, probably, but Grandpa had found about eight million different ways to use the stuff and Alpha hadn’t complained or forced him to eat anything he didn’t want or anything like that. 

Psychologically, Jason knows it’d probably been some stupid regression thing or just because he’d never really been in a situation where he’d been able to be actually picky about food before. But at the time . . . at the time, it’d felt like proof that Grandpa and Alpha had really cared. Like, even more than getting taken in off the street to begin with had. 

It’d been . . . weird. Weird that that’d made him feel that way. 

Weirder than they’d put up with it, though. 

So seeing Grandpa bring him peanut butter now is . . . 

Jason thinks about crying, but it makes more sense to hug Grandpa and nuzzle into the scent glands in his throat, even with the high stiff collar of his shirt halfway in the way. It doesn’t matter, because Grandpa smells familiar and safe and Grandpa is familiar and safe and he brought him peanut butter like maybe he . . . remembers, maybe, that one weird stupid phase Jason’d had. Like maybe he . . . cares, still. 

There’s cookies on the tray too. Jaffa cakes. 

Jason hasn’t had a jaffa cake since before he died, he’s pretty sure. 

If he has, he knows it couldn’t possibly have compared to Grandpa’s. 

Jason purrs into Grandpa’s half-covered scent gland, then takes the tray and sets it up neatly just outside the nest, in easy reach but not in any packmates’ paths. Easy to step around. He picks out the nicest-looking jaffa cake and pushes it on Pup Brother, who looks puzzled but takes it. 

“Er,” Pup Brother says, frowning at the jaffa cake in his hand. “I have reached my necessary caloric intake for the day, Todd.” 

Jason doesn’t know why that matters, so just watches him expectantly. Pup Brother looks awkward, glancing towards the others. Jason prods insistently at the jaffa cake. 

“Master Jason seems to want you to eat as well, Master Damian,” Grandpa supplies helpfully, seeming faintly amused, and Pup Brother looks puzzled again. 

“Why?” he asks. “I am not the one with pups to feed.” 

“You are a pup to feed, Damian,” Little Brother says wryly. Pup Brother’s expression turns dubious. 

“Hardly,” he says. “The fact that I have not yet presented is irrelevant to my capacity to feed myself.” 

Jason doesn’t really know what Pup Brother’s going on about, but he needs to eat. He pokes meaningfully at the jaffa cake again, a little concerned. Is Pup Brother not feeling well? Is he sick? He doesn’t smell sick, or like he’s in pain or anything like that either. But he’s still not eating the jaffa cake, and it’s one of Grandpa’s. 

“I think if you don’t eat it you’re gonna stress him out,” New Brother says. Pup Brother scowls at him. Maybe he really doesn’t feel good, Jason thinks, and presses the back of his hand to his forehead just in case, frowning at the thought. “See?” 

“This is ridiculous,” Pup Brother mutters, but he takes a bite of his jaffa cake and Jason immediately relaxes and starts purring encouragingly at him, twisting his wrist to rub his scent glands along Pup Brother’s hair with the scent of pack-pack-BROTHER-pack. Good. Pup Brother isn’t sick.

Pup Brother . . . blinks, very slowly, and then eats the rest of his jaffa cake. Jason purrs louder and scents him a little more. He’s such a good pup. Jason wants to–

The front door slams open. Everyone jumps, but Jason isn’t worried about it, because at the same time he hears Big Brother’s voice shout, “ALFRED!”

So it’s just Big Brother, and Grandpa will take care of him. It’s fine. 

“Master Dick,” Grandpa says, turning towards the front door with a mildly disapproving expression, still holding the clothes he brought with the tray. Jason wonders what they’re for. “Please refrain from shouting in the den.” 

“You said it was vital pack business!” Big Brother’s voice protests. Jason can’t see him from here, but isn’t worried about it. Big Brother will come into view soon enough, and then Jason will let him in the living room. Not the nest, but definitely the living room. “You haven’t said that since the last time the Court of Owls was making trouble!” 

“I didn’t say it was urgent,” Grandpa says, mildly put out. 

“What happened?” Big Brother’s mate asks, and Jason hears the slight squeak of her wheels. They should oil her chair, he thinks absentmindedly. It’s safer if she can move quieter. “And why is everyone in the foyer?” 

“Everyone is not in the foyer, actually,” Loud Sister says. 

“Bruce and Selina are still on the way, aren’t they?” Big Brother’s mate asks. “My news tracker didn’t ID them as leaving the gala until pretty recently.” 

“Yeah,” Little Brother says. “She meant Jason and Damian aren’t out here, though.” 

Big Brother and his mate both pause. Jason lays out another blanket. 

“. . . ‘out here’?” Big Brother repeats. 

“We are in the living room,” Pup Brother says, sounding annoyed. “Obviously.” 

“What do you mean ‘we’?” Big Brother asks in confusion, then leans into line of sight to look into the living room past the others. Then he goes very, very still. Jason wonders why, idly, and shakes out another blanket. “. . . Jason. Are you nesting? In the living room?” 

Jason huffs, because obviously, and then drops the blanket to go over to the doorway and grab Big Brother’s wrist and yank him into the living room past the others. He’s taking too long. 

“Present,” Jason croons anyway, because the important part is that Big Brother is finally here, and he pulls Big Brother’s hand to his stomach. 

“Oh,” Big Brother chokes, his eyes widening. Jason just pushes his nose into one of the scent glands in the other’s neck and nuzzles in contentedly. Big Brother smells strong and sure and safe, like always. 

“Oh, you got the full intro,” Little Brother observes, sounding a little surprised. “Only Alfred’s gotten that so far.” 

“Jason,” Big Brother says, his voice still choked, and then Jason has to suffer through being hugged with Big Brother’s free arm, but it’s fine. Big Brother’s just like that. 

Anyway, Jason can keep his nose in his neck for a little longer this way anyway. 

“Mmm,” he hums, nuzzling Big Brother again. “Uncle. Don’t spoil ‘em.” 

“I’m gonna spoil ‘em so bad, Little Wing,” Big Brother says with a shaky little laugh, squeezing his arm around him tighter. Jason grumbles in annoyance and bites him, but not too hard. 

The bruising won’t last that long, he means. 

. . . probably. 

Big Brother probably is gonna spoil his pup, the dumbass. Jason’s gonna have to make sure he doesn’t go overboard. A little bit of spoiling is probably okay, though. Like–just giving the pup a little bit of it can’t hurt. Jason doesn’t really know if he knows how to spoil a pup himself, so . . . Big Brother’s gonna be useful for that, yeah. 

Though he’s still gonna have to make sure the idiot doesn’t go overboard, obviously. 

Big Brother squeezes him tighter again. Jason bites him harder, then shoves him off. Big Brother coos happily and Jason rolls his eyes. 

Moron. 

“Master Jason,” Grandpa says, and holds out the clothes in his arms. Jason realizes they’re probably meant for him, so he takes them. They’re soft. Nice-feeling. 

And they smell like . . . 

Jason holds the folded stack of them against his chest and breathes in the scent of Alpha, and settles into his own bones. 

“We have been unable to ascertain the identity of the sire,” Pup Brother informs Big Brother. “Todd did not provide a clear response when questioned.” 

“Oh, yeah, I don’t even know if he’s seeing anyone,” Big Brother says. “Well, does it matter?” 

“As Dames pointed out earlier, if they’re either an assassin or an easy target?” Loud Sister says. “Definitely. Like, very, very definitely.” 

“. . . point,” Big Brother says, making a face. “What did he say?” 

“He called them his sun and his arsenal,” Little Brother says, sounding bothered. “That was all he said. Power Girl said she hasn’t heat-partnered him, thought we probably should ask Supergirl too just in case, since–” 

“Tim,” Big Brother cuts him off, staring at him as his mate muffles a low snicker. Little Brother pauses, then blinks at him. 

“What?” he says. 

"Jason called them his sun," Big Brother repeats, raising an eyebrow. "And his arsenal.” 

"Yes?" Little Brother says. 

"You know, I remember your friends' names, Timmy," Big Brother says. 

"Wh–oh!" Little Brother groans, smacking a hand against the side of his head as Big Brother's mate starts laughing outright. "Starfire and Red Arrow?! Seriously?!" 

"In Jay's defense, I might've talked them both up a bit back when he was young and impressionable," Big Brother replies wryly. "Or maybe a lot. So like, good job on bagging them both at once, Little Wing, I'm impressed, never actually pulled that one off myself." 

"You and the damn redheads," Big Brother's mate snorts. Which . . . her hair is also red? So Jason's not really sure what that's about. "And how's Wally doing today, honey?" 

"I'm sure I don't know, honey," Big Brother lies primly, folding his arms. "So how was their double-team game, Little Wing? Just for totally innocent and unselfish reasons that have nothing to do with either any unsatisfied teenage curiosity or outstanding bets with Vic or my own personal spank bank." 

"They want flowers," Jason hums contentedly, finally unfolding the clothes Grandpa’s brought him. They smell so much like Alpha he must’ve slept in them last night. 

"Flowers?" Big Brother tilts his head questioningly as Jason kicks off his boots and strips off his own clothes and bare remnants of weapons and armor one-handed, letting it all drop carelessly to the floor. It’s not any more important than Red Hood’s gear, right now. 

"And stars," he says, still more contented. 

"Stars?" Big Brother wrinkles his nose. 

"Yeah," Jason says, stepping into Alpha’s soft sleep pants and pulling on his T-shirt. They fit, which is funny. Alpha used to seem like the biggest thing in the world, even face-to-face with Killer Croc or Clayface or just . . . whoever. 

Good, Jason thinks, smoothing the shirt down over his stomach carefully, even though nothing’s even showing yet. Then maybe the pup will think he’s someplace that safe too. 

Big Brother blinks at him. Blinks again. 

Blinks one more time. 

"Oh my god, are they actually mating you?!" he yelps, clapping his hands over his mouth as his eyes widen in delight. "Little Wing! My baby boy! Please let me be your man of honor, I will wear a bridesmaids' dress if I have to, I don't even care.” 

Jason is admittedly tempted by the offer, if only for the entertainment factor of watching Big Brother learn to walk in heels. Although even being a male beta Big Brother would still probably look distractingly better in the dress than any of the other bridesmaids, so maybe not . . . ? 

Also, really, Big Brother can probably already run in heels, knowing him. 

Maybe not stilettos, though. 

Hmmmmm. 

Jason does like stilettos. 

"A bridesmaids' dress?" Big Brother's mate asks wryly, raising an eyebrow. 

"Babs, baby, you don't even know what I would do to get Jason to have an actual mating ceremony that I could actually attend," Big Brother says feelingly, waving his hands in the air between them. "Wearing a bridesmaids' dress is the least of it." 

. . . Jason plucks at the collar of his borrowed shirt and wonders if Alpha would give him away, if he asked him to. If he'd . . . if he'd like to. 

Want to. 

If he'd dance with him, at the reception. That's normal, for the pack alpha to dance with the . . . with the bride. 

So maybe Alpha would, if Jason asked him to. 

Jason bites his lip, considering, and then just . . . goes back to the nest, and back to building it up. It's almost done–it doesn't need much more work. He's mostly just onto finishing touches now, really, and showing Pup Brother how to make sure everything's all comfortable and secure. 

"Are nests typically this size?" Pup Brother asks, peering over his shoulder with poorly-concealed curiosity. "It seems somewhat larger than necessary." 

"Depends how many people you want in 'em and, like, said people’s feelings about personal space," Big Brother replies with a shrug. "Seen both bigger and smaller, depending. You should see Donna's heat nests, they're amazing. Like, they're basically fortresses and we can literally fit the whole Titans roster in them at once, reserves included. Apparently it's an Amazon thing, they just pile on the sisters like crazy." 

"That seems . . . excessive," Pup Brother says with a grimace. "Although quite frankly I cannot imagine wanting to be in a nest with anyone else at all. Certainly not while–compromised." 

"I mean, maybe, but you might change your mind about that someday," Loud Sister tells him with a laugh. "I didn't ever think I'd care about nests until the first time an omega I liked invited me into one of theirs to cuddle and then, welllll . . ." 

"Or if you ever get mated, you might want to then," Little Brother adds. "Partners that nest together report healthier relationships and deeper communication, and better socialization and emotional support for their pups." 

"I do not 'cuddle'," Pup Brother sneers with utmost disdain. "And I in fact have no expectations of ever finding an alpha worthy of either my time or the gift of my womb." 

"Isn't Jon an alpha, though?" Big Brother asks curiously, tilting his head with an expression of perfect innocence. "He's like your best friend. And that Colin kid's an alpha too, right? Wouldn't consider giving either of them a little time? Or just following Jason's example and going for broke on both?" 

"I–that's–shut up and die, Grayson!" Pup Brother sputters indignantly as everyone else muffles laughter, his face bright red and own expression absolutely mortified. Big Brother grins winningly at him, all sly amusement. Pup Brother glares back darkly. "I will kill you and I will not regret the necessity of it." 

"Okay, well, too bad for you but you've conditioned me to find murder threats adorable, so check and mate, pup," Big Brother replies with a wider grin. 

"A promise is not a threat," Pup Brother retorts darkly, narrowing his eyes at him. 

"Awwwww," Big Brother coos adoringly. Pup Brother hisses at him. 

He seems grouchy, so Jason hugs him. Pup Brother bristles. Jason should probably hug him harder, he figures, and does. 

“Todd!” Pup Brother sputters. Loud Sister and Little Brother start laughing, and New Brother muffles a snicker. Jason wonders what’s so funny, but it’s more important to hug Pup Brother and scent him with safe-safe-safe. Big Brother and his mate can handle whatever the others are distracted by, he figures. Or Quiet Sister or Grandpa. Or just whoever isn’t busy, he guesses. 

He should get Pup Brother another jaffa cake, he decides, and drags him back over to the cookies. 

“Todd!” Pup Brother squawks indignantly, attempting to escape his grip. He doesn’t use any nerve strikes, though, so Jason figures he’s not that serious about it and just sits him down on the edge of the nest and pushes another jaffa cake on him. Or two. 

. . . maybe three. Three might be better. 

“Oh my god, I would kill for my camera right now,” Little Brother says, still laughing. Pup Brother growls at him. Jason nuzzles him, then grooms his hair a little as he fusses him into eating the jaffa cakes. 

“Should we call Kori and Roy?” Big Brother’s mate asks. “They can’t possibly know he’s pregnant and not either be here.” 

“I mean, you’re assuming Jason didn’t deliberately ditch them, but point,” Big Brother says, his expression turning considering. “Or that he’d have told them he was pregnant. Especially since they’re not mated yet.” 

“They’ll mate me when I let ‘em,” Jason huffs, grooming Pup Brother some more and then pushing him down into the nest to tuck him in. Pup Brother doesn’t flail, but he stiffens a little, so Jason scents him some more. safe-safe nest-safe-nest

Pup Brother doesn’t relax, exactly, but warily untenses, at least. 

“Todd, this is your nest,” he says with a frown. “Why am I in it?” 

“I want you in it,” Jason hums, rubbing his wrists along Pup Brother’s throat with more safe-safe-safe. Pup Brother wrinkles his nose, looking bewildered. 

Dumb kid. Why else? 

“That is the least convincing possible answer you could have provided me,” Pup Brother accuses. Jason rolls his eyes, then leans down to nuzzle his hair and scruffs the back of his neck lightly. Pup Brother stiffens instead of melting, but it’s Pup Brother, so Jason isn’t surprised by that fact and just nuzzles him again before looking towards Quiet Sister instead. The nest’s good enough now, he thinks. 

“You too,” he says, jerking his head towards it. Quiet Sister’s eyes widen in surprise, and then her face splits into a warm, delighted smile. 

Thank you, she signs before slipping into the living room and approaching the nest. She stops outside it to bow in a formal, unpracticed request. Jason spares a moment to hate her asshole sire, then reaches up and grabs her to pull her down into it. She lets him, which makes him feel a little better about things, and lets him settle her into the curved side of the nest. She beams at him, reaching up to brush sister-scent along his throat from her wrists, and he stops to nuzzle into them. It’s nice, so obviously he does. And it makes it easier for her to scent him, too. 

“Holy shit,” Loud Sister mutters under her breath. Jason doesn’t know why. 

He nuzzles into Quiet Sister’s wrists one last time, then turns to scoop Pup Brother into his arms and pull him down onto their sides. He cuddles them together, wrapping himself around him and leaving Quiet Sister space to spoon up behind him. Them. Whichever. Pup Brother makes an indignant noise and Jason hushes him with a humming purr and nuzzles safe-pup good-pup good-good-pup into his hair. Pup Brother makes an outraged noise this time, and Little Brother and Loud Sister both laugh. Pup Brother growls at them and reaches for a knife, and Jason hums another purr into his hair. He lets Pup Brother throw the knife at them, since they don’t need knives in the nest. Not while Grandpa and Big Brother are here, anyway. It’s safe, with both of them here. 

. . . and Alpha will be home soon too. 

Little Brother and Loud Sister dodge Pup Brother’s knife, still laughing. Jason just buries his face in his hair again and squeezes his arms around him tighter with another purr. Pup Brother hisses, but relaxes. Slightly. 

Well, doesn’t go for another knife, anyway. 

Same difference. 

“This is undignified, Todd,” Pup Brother growls. Jason doesn’t know what he’s talking about, so just ignores it to cuddle him some more, petting more good-pup safe-pup scent onto him. What’s “dignified” matter, anyway? They’re in the pack den. They don’t have to worry about things like that here. 

Even if Grandpa always does himself. But that’s just Grandpa, anyway. 

“I don’t think he cares, Dami,” Big Brother says, sounding amused. “Can everyone else come into the living room too, Little Wing, or do you want your space?” 

“Come in,” Jason hums easily. Obviously they should all come in. Why wouldn’t they? 

Grandpa gives a soft hitched sigh, and Big Brother lets out a choked little laugh. 

“Cool,” he says. “Yeah, that’s–okay. Yeah. Thanks, Jason.” 

“Just get ‘em all in here and quit fuckin’ loitering,” Jason snorts, then nuzzles Pup Brother again, who gives an aggrieved sigh but still doesn’t stab anyone. So that’s fine, Jason figures, and scents good-good-pup into his hair again. 

“Absolutely undignified,” Pup Brother mutters sullenly as the rest of the pack slips quiet and careful into the room. New Brother and Loud Sister take the couch. Little Brother tries to follow them, like an idiot, and Jason growls. 

“Not there,” he snaps irritably, baring his teeth. Stupid Little Brother. 

“Uh,” Little Brother says. “You don’t want, uh, me in here?” His scent flickers with restless self-consciousness, and Jason growls again. Idiot. 

He sits up just enough to glower his exasperation at Little Brother, then leans over and snakes out an arm to grab his ankle and yank. Little Brother goes down with a yelp, and Jason drags him over to the side of the nest and pulls him in against it. Not inside it, obviously, but against it. He snatches Little Brother’s laptop off him to make sure he stays, then unfolds it and sets it up on the edge of the nest facing out towards Little Brother. He also glowers at him again, just to make the point. 

“There,” he says, still annoyed but mostly satisfied. “Sit. Stay.” 

“Um,” Little Brother says. “Right . . . here?” 

Jason gives him a withering look, then lays back down between Pup Brother and Quiet Sister and curls up around Pup Brother, who huffs over it. Quiet Sister rumbles softly, then presses up against his back. Jason feels . . . settled, maybe. Quiet Sister won’t let anything happen either. They’re safe here. 

All of them. 

“Am I flattered that he just set up a workstation for me on the edge of his nest or insulted that he wants me on the floor?” Little Brother wonders. Loud Sister laughs and he flips her off, but settles properly into his seat anyway and adjusts the tilt of his screen. Jason growls again on principle, then spares Big Brother a suspicious glance to make sure he sits where he should. Big Brother lets out a shaky laugh of his own, but sits down cross-legged on the floor on the other side of the nest. 

Good, Jason thinks in satisfaction. 

Grandpa sits in the armchair by the doorway, unfortunately, but it's Grandpa, so Jason allows it. And Big Brother's mate wheels over and parks her chair behind Big Brother. That's fine, Jason decides, then relaxes almost as fully as he can. 

As fully as he can without Alpha around, anyway. 

Alpha should hurry up and get here. Jason needs to present his pup to him already. 

It's . . . different from the last time he was waiting on Alpha, he thinks vaguely. Then he just–doesn't think about that anymore. But it is different. 

Alpha's actually coming this time, so it's different. 

Jason tightens his grip on Pup Brother and Quiet Sister tightens her grip on him. He can smell the whole pack's scents–smell the whole pack's packscent–and he feels . . . good about that. He likes that. 

He missed them. He shouldn't have stayed gone so long. Though now there's a pup, and maybe even more than one, so he supposes it was worth it. 

And either way, he's home now. 

Grandpa said. 

“ETA on B?” Big Brother asks. 

“Eighteen minutes, if they avoided the downtown traffic,” Big Brother’s mate says. Jason hums acknowledgment, then lets himself relax just a little more. More than he even thought he could, really. 

It's nice. 

It's really nice. 

And they're all safe, too. 

“Holy crap, is he purring?” New Brother mutters under his breath. 

“He is definitely purring,” Loud Sister confirms. “Like a big grumpy motorcycle.” 

“Pretty sure I've heard quieter motorcycles,” Big Brother's mate says wryly. “It's pretty cute, though.” 

“It is so cute, oh my god,” Big Brother says in despairing delight. “This is bad enough, how are we gonna handle him being like this with an actual baby?” 

“I think that's mostly a ‘you’ problem, Dick,” Little Brother says. 

“That is definitely a ‘you’ problem,” Loud Sister agrees. 

“For sure,” New Brother says. 

“Very cute,” Quiet Sister hums, nuzzling the back of Jason’s neck and patting his shoulder. “Baby brother.” 

“Thank you, Cass,” Big Brother says with a huff, folding his arms. “This is so adorable I can’t even stand it.” 

Jason huffs, rolling his eyes, then just settles in and closes them. It’s safe to. And he has a nest to let his scent seep into and through, and “bred” pheromones to let settle into and fill up the den. He’s early enough along that it’ll probably take a little while, so it’s past time to concentrate on putting those off and scenting the room. The nest’s all made, and Pup Brother and Quiet Sister are in it, and Grandpa’s by the door and Big Brother and Little Brother are just outside the nest, and Loud Sister and New Brother and Big Brother’s mate are all here too, so . . . 

So once Alpha’s here, then everything will be perfect. 

“He’s purring again,” New Brother mutters. “I literally did not even know he was physically capable of making that sound.” 

“Capable of making it to motorcycle-shaming levels, apparently,” Loud Sister says with a laugh. “Damn, Jason.” 

Jason doesn’t know what she’s talking about, but he isn’t worried about it. If it’s important, someone will take care of it. 

Everyone’s here, so of course someone will. 

“Silence, all of you,” Pup Brother grumbles, sounding long-suffering but staying settled secure in Jason’s arms, which is good. Definitely. He should be there right now. 

Jason nuzzles him some more, for obvious reasons, and then just concentrates on letting his pheromones spread through the room. His nest already smells like the pack and so does the den, obviously, but it doesn’t smell like pup-is-coming. 

It needs to, obviously. 

Someone’s purring. It’s not Pup Brother, but Jason’s not sure who else could be. 

Well, it doesn’t matter, really. 

Some of the others talk about some things, their voices soft and quiet. Jason doesn’t worry about it. It’s just little stuff, like patrol schedules and classes and appointments. Normal little things for a pack to talk about, and easy to settle into the background as white noise while he lets his pheromones fill up the room and makes sure Pup Brother’s eaten. 

He eats some of the apple slices and peanut butter, himself. The pup needs to eat too. 

It’s the same cheap, shitty store brand that he used to insist on as a pup himself. 

.

.

.

“ETA five minutes,” Big Brother’s mate says eventually, looking at her phone. Jason’s not sure what she’s talking about, but isn’t worried about that either. If it’s important, someone will tell him. Or handle it. Or both. 

All he has to do right now is wait for Alpha to get here, and then everything will be fine. 

Everything will be perfect, actually, once Alpha gets here. 

The others talk a little more. Their voices are still soft and quiet, so Jason still doesn’t worry about it. He just stays curled up around Pup Brother and in Quiet Sister’s arms, letting his pheromones fill up the den with bred and home-safe and all the usual things that are usually part of presenting a pup to the pack. 

It’s nice. The . . . being here. It’s nice. He missed it here. 

He wonders why he missed it so bad. Has it been that long, or . . . ? 

He just missed it, he guesses. 

But now he’s here, so he doesn’t have to miss it anymore. 

Grandpa turns his head towards the door and pushes himself up out of his chair. Jason whines in distress. Is he leaving? Why’s he leaving? 

“I’ll just be a moment, my boy,” Grandpa assures him, and Jason settles, a little. If Grandpa says he’ll be just a moment, then he means it. 

Grandpa steps out into the foyer again and everyone else goes quiet all at once, and Jason realizes–oh. The front door just opened, didn’t it. He doesn’t hear footsteps, though. 

. . . does that mean . . . ? 

“Alfred?” Alpha says from the foyer, sounding just barely concerned, and something in Jason vibrates at the sound of his voice. “What’s going on?” 

“Is someone purring?” Alpha’s mate asks curiously. 

“Master Jason came home, Master Bruce,” Grandpa says. 

“. . . he what?” Alpha says, his voice sounding–strange, just a bit. Jason isn’t sure why it does, but feels . . . 

“Just–the living room, Master Bruce,” Grandpa says. “You should come and see for yourself.” 

Grandpa steps back into view of the doorway, and Jason still feels unsettled and just a little bit uncertain, and isn’t sure if–

Then Alpha steps into view too, Alpha’s mate right behind him, and Jason forgets everything else and purrs. 

Alpha’s home. Alpha came this time. Alpha came for him this time. 

That’s all he ever wanted him to do. 

Alpha stares. He looks around the room just briefly, because it’s Alpha so of course he does–but then he stares. 

“Jason?” he says, and Jason purrs louder. 

Alpha came. 

“He’s, you know–definitely feral-brained right now, obviously,” Little Brother says, gesturing sheepishly. Jason wonders who he’s talking about, idly, but isn’t really worried about it. “Kinda just showed up and let himself in, and then, uh . . . well, he’s, uh, presented to Alfred and Dick so far and was teaching Damian how to nest, so . . .” 

“He did?” Alpha’s voice sounds a little–choked, maybe. Jason wonders why. 

He’s still over in the doorway, for some reason. Jason wonders why that’s a thing too. 

Alpha should know he’s allowed in the room, after all. 

“Alpha,” he hums, loosening his grip on Pup Brother just enough to half-reach for Alpha. What’s taking him so long over there, anyway?

It’s dumb. 

“Jaylad,” Alpha says tightly, half-taking a step forward and then–stopping, for some reason, just outside the doorway. Gripping one side of it, but not coming through it. 

Dumb, Jason thinks, and furrows his brow impatiently. 

“Alpha,” he insists, smacking the side of the nest once. 

Really, really dumb. 

“He accepted clothes with your scent, so . . .” Big Brother trails off. 

“And a blanket with it, as well,” Grandpa puts in. “He used it on a foundational layer of the nest.” 

“Ah,” Alpha says roughly, tightening his grip on the doorframe. 

“Don’t hover, Father, Todd clearly expects your presence,” Pup Brother says in exasperation, which is much more useful. Jason purrs appreciatively and nuzzles him, and Pup Brother sighs in aggravation, but doesn’t try to squirm away or anything. 

Good, Jason thinks, and nuzzles him harder. 

Pup Brother rolls his eyes and sighs. 

Alpha finally steps into the room, which is a start. Jason reaches towards him again with another, deeper purr. 

Alpha . . . swallows, visibly, and then comes over to the nest; kneels down outside it beside Big Brother. 

Close enough, Jason figures lazily, and catches Alpha’s wrist to drag his hand to his own stomach. He’s not wearing body armor, but it’s fine. It’s Alpha. 

It’s . . . 

“Present, Dad,” he hums, letting his eyes close again. Alpha makes a very tight noise, and his hand presses in very, very gently against Jason’s stomach. 

And the pup, obviously. 

“Jaylad,” Alpha says, cracked and hoarse. Jason hums back contentedly, squeezing Alpha’s wrist once. 

Good. That’s everybody, then. 

Good, yeah. 

“Who’s the sire?” Alpha’s mate asks curiously from the doorway, leaning against the frame. She hasn’t come in yet. Jason should probably tell her it’s fine, but he’s a little . . . distracted, maybe. Distracted. Yeah. 

Mmm. 

“He says either Kori or Roy, so we’re not technically sure, but the suspect list is pretty short,” Big Brother says, and Alpha’s mate laughs. 

“Could be both,” she points out teasingly. “Think you could handle double grandkittens, Bruce?” 

“More concerned about the risk of having Oliver Queen for an in-law, thanks,” Alpha says dryly, letting out a rough little noise that isn’t quite a laugh and curling his fingers gently against Jason’s stomach. His eyes are kind of shiny, Jason notes when his own half-open again for a moment. It’s . . . weird, a little. 

The shiny, he means, though he’s not really sure why. 

“Jason might’ve mentioned that they both offered to mate him, so yeah, that is in fact a concern,” Big Brother confirms with a laugh of his own. “But pretty sure Kori and Roy don’t know about the pup yet. Even if he managed to slip ‘em, there’s no way I wouldn’t have heard from either of them by now if they were trying to find him while they knew he was bred.” 

Jason huffs, because what does Big Brother mean “managed” to slip them? He could absolutely lose them whenever and wherever he felt like it. And anyway, he texted them earlier. So it’s not like they don’t know where he is. 

. . . or didn’t extrapolate where he is, anyway. But whatever, same difference. 

“Ah,” Alpha says again, and swallows again too. Jason rolls his head back enough to peer up at him a little closer, not really sure what’s going on with him. Hm. 

Well. He’s here. That’s all that really matters, really. 

Except . . . 

“Alpha?” he says again, not sure if . . . Alpha hasn’t taken his hand off his stomach, but he doesn’t seem–happy, really. Or pleased. Or . . . anything like that. Jason’s not . . . sure, exactly. 

Alpha’s hand presses in a little firmer against Jason’s stomach. Not too firm–not too much. But like . . . comfortably firm. If that makes sense, or whatever. 

It feels nice, and Jason relaxes a little. Okay. That’s–better, he thinks. Right? 

Alpha’s here, so . . . it’s better, yeah. 

And it means he’s doing alright. He’s being a good omega. He brought home a good pup to present to the pack–good pups, maybe, if he’s lucky. Alpha will like that, right? If it’s more than one pup? 

Any pup would be good, he thinks. Kori and Roy are both good sires. Lian’s great, for one. And Roy and Kori are great too. Just–definitely, yes. They’re gonna be such a good pup. 

Even with–him in them, they’ll be a good pup. 

He thinks so, anyway. They’ll have . . . better things than he did. They’ll be safer. 

Won’t ever end up alone in an alley without a pack or alone on a warehouse floor with no backup coming. 

Won’t ever doubt who actually loves them. 

Alpha makes a strange, choked noise. Jason doesn’t know why, really. Someone’s purring really loud, but he doesn’t know who it is. Not Pup Brother, and there aren’t any other omegas in the pack, so . . . 

Hm. Weird, yeah. 

Well, everyone’s here, so he’s not worried about it anyway. He’s being a good omega, and he brought his pup home to present. Grandpa and Big Brother were happy about it, and everybody else is here and settled in and safe. That’s all that matters, really. 

As long as Alpha’s happy about the pup too, anyway. And Alpha’s hand is still on his stomach, and Alpha’s still next to the nest, so . . . yeah. That means he is, right? 

So it’s good. Yeah. 

The purring gets louder. Jason nuzzles Pup Brother’s hair and melts under Alpha’s hand and in Quiet Sister’s arms. 

It’s definitely good. 

Nice. 

“Jason,” Alpha says tightly, and Jason cracks an eye open to look at him again. He doesn’t really remember when he closed them, but it’s not really important or anything. 

Alpha has a hand half-over his face, and his head’s ducked down. Jason blinks sleepily, tilting his own head to peer up at him again, but can’t really see his expression. He squeezes the hand he has around Alpha’s wrist; a little bit absent, a little bit like a reflex. He missed Alpha so much. 

The purring’s gotten really loud. 

“You’re home,” Alpha says. 

Jason wonders why Alpha says it like that. Like it’s a surprise or something. 

Like he’d ever bring his pup anywhere else. 

“Yeah,” he hums anyway, because he is home, and lets himself finally, finally fully relax into the nest. Quiet Sister makes a soft, acknowledging sound and winds her arms tighter around him, and Alpha's hand stays resting on his stomach. Pup Brother grumbles some disparaging things in Arabic, but settles in his arms. 

The purring is really loud now, but Jason doesn't mind. 

“Selina, please call Harley and Ivy,” Alpha says. “I need a favor tonight.” 

“What favor?” Alpha's mate asks curiously, though Jason can already hear the little rustle of her pulling her phone out of her pocket. 

“Them answering the Batsignal if anyone hits it,” Alpha says. “Kate's out of town ‘til Friday and Gotham can handle them for one night.” 

“I really don't think it can, but alright,” Alpha's mate says, sounding amused. 

“Can survive them for one night, at least,” Alpha amends. “And if the Justice League needs anything from me in the next ten to twelve hours, well, that's their problem to solve. I’m not going out tonight.” 

Jason, idly, wonders why Alpha’s staying in, but it's nice to hear anyway. If Alpha's gonna be home for that long, well . . . 

He can sleep a lot better, if Alpha's gonna be here. 

That’s good, because the pup needs him to sleep. 

So he tunes out the pack’s quiet voices as they all keep talking, and he sleeps. 

.

.

.

Jason wakes up to pale early-morning light in a disoriented snap of sudden adrenaline and clocks: soft surface. Sleeping bodies. Someone on either side of him and other presences close by and a room that smells like– 

Fuck, did he drunk-dial the Bat pack? 

Fuck. 

Even Tim’s asleep on the edge of the nest that Jason is inexplicably in. Like, all curled up and hugging his laptop like a teddy bear, but definitely asleep. And Dick’s on the other side of the thing, and that’s Cass pressed up against his back and–is Damian hugging him? In his sleep? Without a visible knife in hand?! 

Jason might’ve fallen into an alternate reality again. Fallen very, very far into an alternate reality. 

At least hopefully, anyway, because if this is his reality, he’s gonna have to deal with whatever the fuck happened last night, and whoever even built this nest that smells like the whole damn Wayne pack and slopes like–like Catherine’s always used to, like . . . like his mom’s always . . . 

Fuck. This is his nest, isn’t it. This is exactly how he builds the damn things every time he fucks up enough to go feral. And he definitely went feral, because he doesn’t remember a thing about last night after accidentally ending up at the manor like an idiot, except–wait, no, shit, now he is remembering things about last night, and they’re all fucking mortifying. 

Fuck. 

Jason needs to get out of here. He has no idea why anybody humored him taking over the living room like he thought he–like he actually–

He needs to get out of here, because the moment somebody wakes up and tells him he needs to leave or, worse, pities him enough to not tell him he needs to leave, he’s gonna lose his entire damn mind. If he just–

Cass’s fingers flex against his chest, very briefly, and he nearly panics. 

Of fucking course he couldn’t wake up in Cass’s arms unnoticed. 

“Jason,” she says quietly, and then Jason is officially fucked, because nobody in this room is gonna sleep through someone actually speaking. 

Why the hell couldn’t she at least have signed it? Why the hell couldn’t–

And then he registers that Bruce is in the room. 

Everyone else wakes up at the sound of Cass’s voice saying his name at the exact same moment that Jason freezes at recognizing Bruce’s scent. 

Bruce’s–Bruce’s . . . sire scent. Not on him, but . . . but still here. Still in the room. 

Jason hasn’t been this close to Bruce’s sire scent since– 

He’s not going to think about that. 

He’s definitely not going to think about that. Not ever. Not for anything. Not–

( he’d scrubbed it off so ANGRILY, that last time; so angry and betrayed and– 

he’d regretted that, on the warehouse floor. he wouldn’t have been able to smell it through the scent blockers in Robin’s suit anyway, couldn’t have stripped them off while all tied-up and bleeding out, WOULDN’T have stripped them off with any chance of that fucking bastard clown coming back, but–but–

but he’d regretted– )

Jason isn’t thinking about that. 

Bruce sits up along the sloped side of his nest, just outside it. Or–almost outside it. Almost. 

Bruce has an arm extended half-into Jason’s nest, which was deliberate, obviously. Bruce never does a damn fucking thing that isn’t deliberate. Not ever. 

Not a thing, Jason thinks, remembering everything every single awful bastard in Gotham ever survived and the batarang scar on his own neck. 

But Jason can’t even hate the asshole for reaching into his nest uninvited like that; can’t even curse him out or shove him out. He can’t, because–because he’s the one with his fingers hooked into the cuff of Bruce’s rolled-up sleeve with the hand of the arm he has draped over Damian. He’s the one holding onto him. 

So it’s not Bruce who was deliberate about this. It was Jason’s own stupid, stupid feral-brained stupid self, who thought–who thinks– 

Who always thinks–

Bruce isn’t his pack alpha. Bruce isn’t his sire. 

Bruce isn’t his fucking dad.

Bruce’s arm is in his nest, laid down the sloped side of it, and he smells the most like home that anyone’s smelled to him since his mom died in a nest built just like this one.