#alfred did NOT want him doing it but he relented

[beeceit]

the more I read and reread the comics the more I realize that a lot of the fanon criticizers are just as bad as the fanon only folks, are we even reading the same books y'all are yelling at them to read????

not talking about people who are chill about criticizing fanon and avoiding what isn't their taste, talking about the ones who bash people and act like they're the only ones who understand canon while also having their own interpretation that's not only inaccurate but meanspirited

like tumblr specifically has a problem with overcorrecting, both with fandom and real life discourse, I know that

but goodness y'all both need to read lonely place of dying because that did NOT go down the way some of y'all are saying it did

[streetlamp-amber]

can we just stay in bed? (18+)

bruce wayne x femwife!reader

word count: 2.8k | divider by @cafekitsune | requests are open!

CW: smut (MDNI), p in v sex, oral (fem receiving), soft sex NOTES: i usually don’t write soft smut like this so i don’t really know if i’m 100% satisfied with this or not but i still wanted to share, let me know your thoughts :)

The joyful singing of the birds in the forest surrounding Wayne Manor could be heard from miles away as the sun was rising over the treetops, marking the beginning of a new day in Gotham. A lone ray of sunshine made its way through the gap between the two curtains hung over the window of you and Bruce's bedroom, illuminating the darkness with a soft golden glow.

Today was Saturday, meaning you didn't have work waiting for you or school to drive Dick and Jason to. The only plan on the schedule this morning was to sleep in, even for Alfred.

But your husband had other plans.

Bruce woke up on his own, his body was now used to being up early to make sure the boys had completed all of their homework before dropping them off at school. He was laying on his back with your head nestled in the crook of his neck, your hot breath fanning over his skin at a gentle rhythm while your arm and leg were hooked around him, keeping your body flushed against his. A grateful, satisfied smile formed on Bruce’s lips as he hugged you closer to him and pressed a kiss on the top of your head. He loved waking up with you in his arms, it was his favourite part of the day – when all his worries about Gotham were still dormant in the back of his mind, when he could bask in the peacefulness of the morning with your steady breathing reminding him how lucky he was that you were so much of a hothead, you had him pull over on the side of the road to reprimand his reckless driving when he almost rear ended your car. He remembered that day like it was yesterday, because your anger and your indifference to his celebrity status had already caught his heart right then and there, the fact that you were breathtakingly beautiful was only a plus. Six years had passed since then and Bruce had tried his best to remain on your good side in that time, but it happened sometimes that you let out your anger on him – like when he let Dick patrol with him for the first time. He found that he was still as captivated and enamoured with you as he was when the two of you first met, you’re just so hot when you’re angry, he can’t help it.

Overcome with the love he held for you, Bruce started peppering soft, barely-there kisses on your cheek, your nose, your jaw and your neck, moving you to lay on your back as he did so for him to have better access to your skin. His gentle touches pulled you out of your slumber and you stretched out your limbs, your husband never relenting with his affections.

“Good morning, my love,” Bruce whispered in between kisses on your throat.

You giggled, the softness of his lips tickling you. “Good morning,” you replied, wrapping your arms around his neck while his held you tight under your back. You turned your head to glance at the digital clock on your bedside table, noticing the time displayed in red light. “Isn’t it too early to be awake on a Saturday morning?”

“What time is it?” Bruce asked as he comfortably laid on you, his face now resting in the crook of your neck.

“Ten past seven,” you answered, your hands finding their way to your husband’s hair. Your fingers threaded through his soft waves and you felt him hum in satisfaction against you.

“I’m not sleepy anymore,” he weakly argued, eyes closing as your scent comforted him.

“Bruce, I can literally feel your breathing slowing down like it does when you fall asleep,” you chuckled.

“Then we should do something to stay awake and enjoy these minutes of peace we have that are oh so rare,” Bruce suggested with an impish tone.

“Mhm,” you hummed in agreement, “we haven't made blueberry waffles in quite some time.”

Bruce rolled his eyes and stood up above you, trapping you under his body with his elbows resting on both sides of your head. “Can we just stay in bed?” He asked, his crooked grin on his lips as he leaned down, brushing the tip of your nose with his.

“And do what?” You feigned innocence, but your husband knew you too well – he had known you for more than six years after all, he liked to think he knew you more than he knew himself – and the mischievousness in your eyes didn't go past him.

“I have a few ideas in mind,” Bruce said before claiming your lips with his. You breathed a sigh of relief that he absorbed and he placed himself in between your legs.

He stood up after a minute for the both of you to get some air and teasingly tugged at the hem of your shirt (which really was one of his old Princeton shirts from his university days). “I think it's not fair I’m the only one who's bare chest,” he said, raising the shirt just above your bellybutton.

“I think you make a compelling argument, Mr. Wayne,” you playfully agreed then removed said shirt, throwing it on the floor.

Bruce didn’t waste any second, immediately peppering your chest with kisses the moment your skin was freed from your clothes. You relaxed into your pillow, enjoying the attention your husband was giving to every inch of your body. He took his time to savour your taste and you let him. There was no rushing this morning, only the two of you in your bubble of love where time and the outside world didn’t exist.

He nipped his teeth all over your chest, leaving soft bite marks in his trail, and sucked on your nipples, his hand massaging your boob his mouth wasn’t currently attached to.

“Bruce…” You mewled after he spent five minutes on each of your breasts, only now beginning his slow descent down your stomach. Ten minutes of working you up had you now very impatient and wanting for more.

“Patience, my love,” Bruce said against your skin, getting closer to where you needed him most. “We’re taking it slow this morning, we’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Mmm, I know of two certain boys who will be knocking at our door in less than an hour to see if you’re awake so you can watch the morning cartoons with them,” you argued, raising up your hips when he started leaving kisses on the inside of your right thigh.

“That won’t be a problem,” your husband reassured you before claiming your clit in his mouth, making you squeal in surprise. “Good thing I had the walls of our bedroom soundproofed,” he paused his sucking on your bundle of nerves to tease you with a grin on his shiny lips.

You glared at him, unamused, which made him chuckle at your cute face and he quickly kissed your thigh before going back to his previous task. He lapped the slick in between your folds like a man who had spent fourteen days in the desert and was drinking water for the first time. His tongue teased your entrance before diving in, grunting in pleasure when your hips bucked up closer to him, making his nose brush against your clit. Bruce could never get tired of you, of your taste, of the sounds you made because of him. It spurred him on and for the time being, his only purpose in life was to satisfy you.

He couldn’t even begin to explain the control you had over him, the way you guided him through this life like a lighthouse in a storm. He was putty in your hands, has been ever since the two of you met, and he knew very well how lost he would be without you. Yeah, he would be financially secured thanks to his family, but in every other aspect of his life, even as Batman, he wouldn’t be who he was today without you. And Bruce, who had never really been good at vocally expressing his feelings, would let you know how thankful he was to have you in his life the way he knew best: by pleasuring you to completion like no other person ever has before because no one has taken the time to learn every single reaction of your body like he had.

“Bruce…” you whined as your hand tugged at his hair. You needed more, you needed more than just his tongue inside of you so you pulled him up by the head, bringing him to your level, and attached your lips to his, tasting yourself on him, while your legs wound around his waist. You felt his hard cock brushing against your center through the fabric of his boxers and jolted at the slight pressure applied on your clitoris.

The two of you slowly and messily made out, Bruce’s right hand holding your cheek and his left one clutching onto your hip. Your hands had found their way to the waistband of his boxers, trying to pull them down to get what you wanted. Bruce helped you, his left hand leaving your hip to remove the only item of clothing still on, his mouth never detaching from yours as he did so.

Once fully nude, Bruce retracted from you, standing on his knees before dipping his fingers between your folds to gather some of your wetness and rub it over his dick. You watched him with anticipation, the sight before you something you could never get tired of. Your husband was straight out of a dream and, still to this day, you’d pinch yourself sometimes to make sure you were awake, that this was your life.

That somehow, Bruce Wayne fell in love with you.

But he was also so different from how he presented himself to the media, to the public, that sometimes you forgot you married the Bruce Wayne, heir to the powerful Wayne family, prince of Gotham. To you, he was just your silly husband who was incredibly hot and put everybody else before him.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Bruce brushed the tip of his cock against the lips of your pussy. “I hope I’m not too much of a bore, darling,” he said, a teasing undertone lacing his words.

“No, just admiring the view and how lucky I am that my husband is so damn hot,” you replied playfully though there were no lies to your answer.

“Clearly you haven’t looked at yourself in the mirror lately babe because I’m the lucky one,” Bruce told you, his eyes confidently holding yours to show how truthful he was. He lined himself with your entrance, his stare never leaving your face so that he could drink in your expressions when he sheathed himself to the hilt inside you.

The two of you groaned in pleasure and Bruce took a moment to bask in your warmth, his eyes roaming all over you.

“Especially when you look so goddamn gorgeous with my cock inside you,” he added onto his previous comment, making you roll your eyes at the machoness of his words.

“Shut up and start moving already,” you chuckled.

“As you wish, my darling,” he leaned down to kiss you again and started rolling his hips to a slow, steady pace.

You wrapped your legs around his waist again while your hands found their place at his nape, scratching his scalp and tugging his hair, making him moan in your mouth. Your tongues danced to the same rhythm as Bruce’s thrusts, the both of you drowning in the feeling of the other.

Sex with Bruce was usually more rapid, more frantic, more bruising, more fiery, and you loved it. You loved how he could make you forget about the gala happening right down the hallway and the handprints he’d unconsciously leave on your hips from his grip. But you also loved when sex with Bruce was languid with no hurry. When one made you forget everything, the other basked you in love and made you feel like you were in a dream.

Bruce’s mouth left yours to trail down your cheek, then your jaw, until it found its place in the crook of your neck. He deposited open mouthed kisses all over your skin, licking it and leaving small nips on it. He easily found the pulse point behind your ear and, knowing you could easily hide that spot, started sucking on it and doubled the pleasure building inside you.

It made your breath hitch and your nails dig in his back muscles, leaving small red crescents on his skin. You felt him smile against your skin, his pride always swelled up to the reactions he was able to pull out of you.

“Mph, you feel so good darling,” Bruce groaned in your ear and kissed it. “You always do.”

“And you make me feel so good baby,” you answered, squeezing your walls around him as you said so.

Bruce’s head appeared in your eyeline again, his famous grin on his lips as his eyes roamed over your face, full of love. “I love you,” he told you.

You were about to say ‘I love you’ back but he didn’t let you, claiming your mouth with his instead to drag you in another make out session. He changed the angle of his hips at the same time and the tip of his dick brushed your G-spot, making you mewl. Bruce’s left hand fell down to the back of your right thigh, gripping it tight as he held it a little higher. It allowed him to go about one more inch further, said spot now being hit with every thrust.

“Oh God, yes,” you freed your mouth from his as your head fell back, your eyes squeezing shut due to the pleasure gradually overtaking your senses.

“Look at me, darling,” Bruce asked you and you obeyed, struggling to keep your eyes open as the two of you held eye contact. “Are you close?”

He knew you were, he knew your body like the back of his hand, but he still asked you the question just to be sure.

You couldn’t answer him. Your mouth was in a permanent ‘o’ shape as breathy moans escaped your lips with every thrust and you were unable to focus for more than one second on how to speak. So you nodded your head yes.

Bruce’s hand that held your thigh let it go to instead dip between your legs, easily finding your clit and rubbing it in circles with just the right amount of pressure. He proudly watched as you unravelled beneath him, your orgasm hitting you with full force. As he helped you ride it out, he reached his own climax and fell over you, but still made sure to not put his entire weight on you, as the two of you caught your breath.

Your husband removed himself from inside you and rolled over to lay next to you on his side so he could face you. “I love you,” he said again, kissing your temple covered with a sheen of sweat.

You turned to face him, your hand reaching to hold his cheek as you replied, “I love you”. You kissed him on the lips, this time short and sweet, and Bruce laid on his back so you could snuggle up against him with your head on his chest.

“You know, we should wash up before the boys come knocking on our door,” you said after a few minutes of peace.

“Can we just stay in bed for another minute?” Bruce childishly whined, his fingers brushing up and down your bare bicep.

“You're such a big baby,” you teased him, chuckling.

“Well sorry I’m a little spent from our early morning activity,” he lightheartedly argued.

“Alright, I’ll make you a deal,” you said, rising on your elbows to look over him. “I’m going to the bathroom and I’ll bring back with me a wet cloth for you to wash yourself and then we can cuddle and maybe go back to sleep until Dick and Jason crash through the door to drag you downstairs and watch cartoons. Sounds like a deal?”

“Sounds like a really good deal to me,” Bruce answered, bringing you down to peck your lips before he rested his hands behind his head. “You should come down to the tower next time we’re looking to make a deal with another company.”

“Nah, I’m perfectly fine with leaving all that work to you,” you pecked his lips once again and stood up from the bed, not bothering to cover yourself up. “I’ll be right back,” you said behind your shoulder as you walked towards the bathroom connected to your room.

Bruce didn’t hear you, too preoccupied with staring at your ass to focus on anything else. God, I’m the luckiest man in all of Gotham, he thought to himself before you disappeared through the door frame.

[lazycats-stuff]

Hi idk if you're taking requests rn but can you please do if possible batfamily x male reader who's younger than dick but older than jason and he is really shy around batfamily because he came to the family after damian idk if this makes sense and while out on patrol an enemy injects him something that turned him into a toddler but he still has all his memory the rest is up to you im sorry if this doesn't make sense😭

It's fine, it makes perfect sense, don't worry my dear anon. I know exactly what you mean. Did I use this GIF before? Yes. Does it work in this context? Yes. And did I use this GIF for a story before where I also wrote about a shy reader? Yes.

Summary: (Y/N) is shy around his family. That is until he is turned into a toddler.

Warnings: shy (Y/N), (Y/N) is turned into a toddler, not a lot of bad warnings, besides mentioning Bruce being stabbed for the purpose of this one shot.

(Y/N) was always shy, even before Bruce adopted him. But that shyness completely intensified when he was adopted into the family. He was younger than Dick, but older than Jason, which would put him somewhere in the middle. If only he didn't come after Damian came into the family, it might have been easier.

Coming into a new family where there are already four siblings and you are the fifth one... It's not easy to say the very least. Meeting new people is not easy and (Y/N) always struggled with being shy and just over all... A bit overwhelmed. More often than not, (Y/N) could be found with a blush on his cheeks. Very quiet too... Feeling self conscious more often than not.

Bruce tried to make his son more comfortable. So did the other boys. All of them in their own ways. Bruce talked to (Y/N) about becoming a vigilante. Which (Y/N) thought was a good idea. But due to his shyness... (Y/N) was very hesitant to do so. He didn't want to impede anyone due to his shyness.

Bruce promised him that they could work on it and at the same time train to go out on patrol. Bruce wanted to make sure that (Y/N) is fully prepared to go out. Sometimes, (Y/N) could overthink a lot of things and Bruce wanted (Y/N) to just trust his gut feeling. Go with your gut, trust yourself.

Of course, an overthinker overthinks everything and that sometimes makes it a bit more difficult to function. Of course, overthinking for a while when it's your first few times being on patrol is normal, you are trying to get into your rhythm and to get the initial nerves out. But the problem is that (Y/N) is a chronical overthinker. So Bruce made sure to shadow (Y/N) all the time.

Bruce made sure to instruct his sons to do the same. To make sure that they shadowed (Y/N), just for his safety. (Y/N) didn't mind it, but he would like to have a tiny bit of autonomy and a little bit of confidence in himself.

His brothers were sympathetic to that, but Bruce's orders were still standing. And Bruce did know that (Y/N) was getting a bit restless and annoyed as he couldn't have some independence. But Bruce wanted to be sure that (Y/N) could take care of himself if he was alone. And after numerous conversations with Bruce, Bruce relented and (/YN) was happy to have a little bit more autonomy.

Bruce was still worried of course, but knew that (Y/N) could take care of himself. Just like all of his children could. But Bruce is always worried about all of his children. So, he made sure to put a tracker in (Y/N)'s suit.

Just in case, Bruce told himself, trying to ease his guilt of doing this.

He knows that he couldn't tell (Y/N) because he would freak out at Bruce. Where's the autonomy if you have a tracker? And (Y/N) was happy to be trusted enough to go on his own...

Bruce was caught in the middle.

Bruce was sitting in the Batcave, taking a night off due to a stab wound. And Alfred might have threatened him with certain things if he even thought about going out on patrol. So Bruce decided to be on the Bat computer, offering support for his kids and for them to go out on patrol alone, without him as physical backup.

It was all going good, but it was a full moon. And far too quiet. And Bruce knew that something was bound to happen. And he was right. But he expected one of his kids to be hurt. Maybe something broken.

Not (Y/N) being turned into a toddler. Bruce nearly fell out of his chair once he got told what happened. It was an up and coming villain, one that Bruce didn't want to see in Gotham city. He didn't know that the enemy was dabbling into stuff like that. He stood in shock as Dick was holding a little toddler, wrapped in Damian's cloak, since the suit was far too big on him now. The suit was in Damian's hands.

" Is (Y/N) okay? Do you know what his cognition levels are? Toddler or what? "

" I'm still a teen in my mind. " (Y/N) said quietly and Bruce sighed in relief. He didn't know how he would feel if he had an actual toddler in here. He has no experience in raising one and Bruce didn't think that he could even handle on. Bruce gently walked forward and took (Y/N) into his arms, trying to calm down his nerves.

(Y/N) was okay. That's what Bruce wanted to hear. He's okay. Not dead. Not harmed... Bruce sighed in relief as he held his son close to him. His shyest son, the one who overthinks everything, the one who often blushes...

" Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere? " Bruce asked softly and (Y/N) nodded, seemingly not wanting to talk. Bruce didn't mind it. He could work with nods and shakes.

" Alright, lets find some clothes for you and then Alfred will feed you and then off to bed. " Bruce said to (Y/N), who nodded, happy to eat something.

Alfred watched in silence, still shocked, but soon recovered from it.

" I'll make you your favorite master (Y/N). Come on, lets go. " Bruce put (Y/N) down and (Y/N) walked over to Alfred, reaching for his hand. Alfred smiled as he led (Y/N) up to eat something.

Bruce then turned to his sons.

" Did you manage to catch the guy? " Bruce asked and everyone shook their heads.

" He got away. He was just within my reach. " Jason crossed his arms, looking pissed.

" It's okay Jason, don't blame yourself. Once I'm fully healed, I'll help you two. For now, we need to locate the enemy and ask him for how to reverse the affects. But for now... I'll enjoy this time. I've never had a chance to raise any of you as toddlers, " Bruce confessed and everyone chuckled.

That much was true, they were all older and no one came in when they were toddlers, they were more closer to teenage years. So Bruce would really like to enjoy this period.

Can anyone blame him?

And that's what they all did. They enjoyed this time with (Y/N), Bruce more than the others. Bruce enjoyed how much smaller (Y/N) was and the fact that he could carry him in his arms. Thank God for Bruce's workout plan. And the money to get all the things necessary. Thank God for that.

(Y/N) became a bit compact with the transformation so whenever he got nightmares or got scared in general. Bruce seemed to notice that fear intensified. More often than not, (Y/N) would climb into bed, seeking comfort in his dad. Bruce never minded. How could he? No one else minded either.

It was oddly nice to have a toddler in the home. And while yes, (Y/N) still has his memories as a teen and is not as whiny as a toddler would be so it's not a fair comparison per se, but still. They liked it. Jason loved teasing more than anything in the world. (Y/N) hated it and often whined about it like a toddler would and it made Jason even more amused.

Dick enjoyed this stage too. It's nice to have someone so small around here for some reason. Tim simply buried himself into work to find the enemy. Damian didn't know where to stand on this issue. While he loved his brother even before this, although never showed it outwardly, he wanted his older brother back.

Because this messes with your mind. You have an older brother who was got turned into a toddler. It messes with your perception too. Damian was a little bit freaked out a little bit by it. Okay, not a little, but still.

And yes, (Y/N) was annoyed being a toddler. Being too small to reach anything, Jason teasing him, everyone treating him like a baby... He's had enough of it. He wanted to get out of this little body as soon as possible.

He wanted to be back to him old self.

And that wish was granted when he has seen Bruce smiling after patrol, showing him a serum.

" This will bring you back to your old self. "

(Y/N) sighed in relief. Thank God.

[aealzx]

_______________________

Prologue | AO3

Previous Next

_______________________

“You came all the way out here to ask me to identify a plant?” Pamela was understandably incredulous as she blocked Tim from entering her current residence.

“Weeelll,” Tim drawled, shrugging with one shoulder. “Spoiler and Orphan said you’d be the best to contact. We could go elsewhere, but then I’d have to find somewhere else for these bacon and egg sandwiches,” he explained, revealing the hand that was behind his back to be holding a paper bag for a local food joint. It was a bribe. Or payment for services rendered if one wanted to be posh about it. But he was fine calling it a bribe.

“Aw hell yeah!” Harleen’s voice came from further in the establishment, and Tim caught just the faintest hint of a smile twitching Pamela’s mouth. She tried to resist, but Tim held his ground with a decidedly innocent smile, the bag of egg sandwiches still held in offering.

Eventually Pamela sighed and held out her hand. “Fine. What identifiers do you have for it?” she relented, letting Tim set the bag of food on her palm.

“Not much honestly. The locals call it a blood blossom, but I doubt it’s a haemanthus coccineus. We don’t have a picture, but we’re told it looks like a red rose bud with black leaves,” Tim answered. He’d done his own research already while waiting for the food to be made, and that was part of the reason he didn’t feel bad for following through with the others’ idea to ask Pamela. He had a few guesses already, but it would be nice to get a second opinion.

“A rose with black leaves?” Pamela repeated, her disappointed expression becoming thoughtful. “That’s it? Nothing else?” she asked soon after, frowning deeper if possible.

“Nothing else,” Tim confirmed, both disappointed and pleased that Pamela also didn’t seem able to come up with an answer.

“Sounds made up,” Pamela answered bluntly, shifting to move back into the building. “There aren’t any roses with black leaves unless they’re mutilated. The closest you’ll get is a begonia switzerland if you’re just going by appearance.”

“Oh…. that’s what I thought too,” Tim hummed, raising a curled finger to his chin.

Pamela’s eye twitched. “Then why did you-.... Goodbye,” she stammered, then figured it wasn’t worth her time to deal with Tim further, and closed the door on him.

Tim could only snort in amusement, raising his voice for just a moment. “Thanks for the info! Enjoy the food!” he called, grinning as he turned to grapple himself back to the rooftops.

So the blood blossoms were either an extremely obscure name for some other plant, or they didn’t actually exist. And if they didn’t exist, then what had poisoned Danny? At least Dick and Damian were heading straight to the manor to follow up with Alfred about meals, and bring the tissue sample with the plant based poison to where Bruce could use their tech to better analyze it. And Barbara had already mentioned she’d meet them there, so while they might not have a good start on two of the three questions they should at least be able to figure out who these kids were exactly.

—----------

“They don’t exist,” Barbara’s conclusion about the five Phantom kids they had custody of was short, but did little to answer any questions the others had. After spending a few hours gathering her data she had decided to join the others at the manor, the three who had returned from the rescue mission, Bruce, and her now gathered in the Bat Cave by the computer. Admittedly that hadn’t been something they fully expected to hear, so there were sagging shoulders from both Dick and Tim at the announcement.

“You ran the search in all of the databases, yeah?” Tim asked, immediately trying to figure out what they had missed. Barbara was usually extremely thorough. It was hard to believe she came up with nothing on a group of five people. Especially when two of them had superhuman abilities.

“Yes, Tim,” Barbara responded quickly. “If you’ll let me continue before you try to solve the problem yourself I’ll save you some steps,” she added, getting a mildly teasing smile. When Tim relented with a mild shrug Barbara turned her chair back to the computer, pulling her reports up on the huge monitor.

“The DNA samples came up with no results. Amity Park doesn’t exist on any map. There’s no social media posts about any combination of their names. And the photo Jason sent of Jazz’s ID also has no results. It doesn’t even resemble the official driver’s license format of Illinois or any of the other states, so it’s not hard to see why the bank teller would call it a fake,” she listed, bringing up the reports from her data scouring as she mentioned them. “The only activity I can track from them is here in Gotham, starting 72 days ago. I believe that’s when they first arrived here.”

The date caused Bruce to shift, breaking out of his silence once it seemed Barbara had finished summarizing her findings and drawing a connection to a separate report he’d gotten more than a month ago. “72 days ago is when the Justice League got readings of an anomaly on the outskirts of Gotham. Investigations revealed some remains of unknown technology, but no one was there with it.”

“...What kind of anomaly?” Dick asked, tensing slightly at a thought that crossed his mind. Unknown DNA, unusable bank and ID cards, two of them claiming to be beings that were never heard of before now.

“Please don’t say multiverse breach,” Tim whined, revealing that he’d had the same thoughts as Dick.

Instead of answering them Bruce just opened a different report, having been locating it as his sons had been speaking. When the data appeared on screen both Dick and Tim let out extended groans, their forms sagging even more as Barbara chuckled softly.

“It had to be dimension garbage,” Tim whined more, squinting at the report confirming suspected multiverse breach residue in the affected area.

“That explains all the missing data,” Barbara commented, just glad to have an explanation for why all her research was coming up blank prior to the anomaly. It was because they literally had nothing on this earth before then, and not because they were some sort of geniuses that could manage such an extensive data wipe to make even her systems come up with blanks.

“That also explains why Dr. Isley was unfamiliar with the blood blossoms,” Damian added, seeming unfazed by the revelation.

“And literally everything else that was weird about them,” Tim encompassed, frustration bleeding into his tone. What kind of puzzle didn’t even have answers in this world? He felt like that was cheating.

“Do they seem aware that they are no longer in their dimension? We’re sure this wasn’t a deliberate transport?” Bruce asked, masking his growing concern for the dislocated children by suggesting they might still be hiding something.

“Please, these kids can’t hide anything that well,” Tim huffed, giving a wry smile. “The only reason they’re able to hide anything is because they’re also oblivious. Otherwise it’s way too easy to tell they’re keeping something a secret.”

Bruce only frowned more at the response, and Barbara couldn’t help add her own support of the idea that the Phantoms had no idea they weren’t even close to home. “They seemed to have had enough to deal with, I don’t think they had time to consider it. Almost 80% of their activity ties back to them looking for ectoplasm. The other 20% is just general medical care and necessities of living.”

“Ectoplasm is the stuff they said Danny needed,” Dick added unnecessarily.

“I remember,” Bruce responded, though he could also understand why the kids had such a hard time tracking down a source. Most of Gotham didn’t even believe in ghosts, and the only people he or his family knew that matched the category were Boston and Greta. “Their search led them to a Lazarus water exchange.”

“Yeah. But apparently even though it’s similar enough, the Lazarus water is ‘freaky’ and they don’t want to use it according to Danielle,” Dick confirmed, using air quotes for what the small girl had said.

“All five of them have traces of another substance I’ve never seen before that seems similar to residue from Lazarus water as well,” Barbara spoke up to add, reaching over to the computer once more as she once again had their attention. The DNA analysis reports were enlarged, and she used a screen sketch app to mark the unusual traces. “It’s most prominent in Danielle and Danny, though Danny’s levels read a lot lower. But the other three have small traces as well.”

“The one called Danielle made mention of Danny having expended a significant amount of energy, to the point his accelerated healing ability has been hindered. And that there was a lack of locations with an abundance of said energy for them to absorb,” Damian recalled, ignoring the face Tim pulled as he slowly turned to look at him.

“You made that sound way more complicated than she did,” Tim grimaced.

“Silence Drake,” Damian retorted simply.

Dick could only snicker while keeping his gaze on the reports like Bruce was doing. “This will make it easier to track some of the substance down. I’ll see if I can create a collection device to make it easier for us to get larger amounts, and work on a way to neutralize the residual plant material,” Bruce commented, already making plans for the next course of action.

“After dinner,” Dick enforced, resting his hands on the back of Bruce’s chair.

Bruce seemed to consider it, falling silent and keeping his gaze on the monitor, giving no answer other than a short grunt after a long stretch of quiet.

Dick only leaned on the chair more, pulling it back slightly. “Aaaaafter dinner, Bruce. Thirty minutes isn’t going to be that big of a loss,” he prodded.

“...Alfred put you up to this, didn’t he,” Bruce pointed out instead of responding to the request.

“He did,” Dick confirmed, admitting to being requested to make sure Bruce got at least one hearty meal before getting lost in his work once again.

Bruce considered it longer, and by then the rest of his children were already on their way back upstairs. Did he really want Alfred hassling him again? “... Very well. After dinner,” he relented, getting to his feet with a slight sigh and locking the computer screen.

_________________

Dimension hopping confirmed~ And I just realized I now have 2 fanfics that involve dimension hopping X'D that was unintentional.

Questions for the people following/interested: because I'm not familiar with most of DC or really DP's canon and fanon content and there's so freaking much of it out there, which characters would you like to see involved? No guarantees that they'll be in if I can't figure out how to get them to fit, but I need somewhere to start researching stuff X'DD. Also there's essentially 2 goals, wake Danny up, and get Team Phantom back home. How difficult should these tasks be, and which one would people rather have more focus on?

This fic originated from a prompt I found, so I think it might be fun to kind of keep that going? A different kind of writing exercise than what I'm used to. So that's why the questions instead of me just going heheh have a cliffhanger.

Though I will say I'm still of the opinion of no romance, so please don't suggest pairings |D

_________________

Tag list: @galaxy-sharks-and-bottled-ships, @starscreamlover, @nerdynonnativenarnian, @dragongoblet, @zeestarfishalien, @bellathecatastrophe, @cj-ghostemoji-destielpie, @asexual-insomniac, @wolfeyedwitch, @tkiesai, @fanaroff, @raven1508, @nebulainajar, @serasvictoria02, @oliocelottafanfics, @honeysuckletook, @omniithe-deer, @wolf-under-the-stars, @gingernutcalo, @that-random-fangirl

[timmydraker]

How I think each character would react to Tim not taking care of himself:

Dick:

As the most Older Sister coded character I’ve ever heard of, I think he’d struggle to not immediately try and take everything on for his brother. He’d want to lessen his work load and have a long talk with him about being responsible for his wellbeing but would also be scared to overstep and cause any kind of rift.

Eventually I think he’d settle on asking Tim to just take a shower and eat something. He’d start small, not making it as an order because he doesn’t want to be a douch, but firm enough that Tim can pick up his concern.

Dick is 100% the type to check on him several times and make sure he’s hydrated and well rested, especially after a bad night, to the point that it might be a little overbearing.

He’d probably also make sure Bruce would respond as best her could when the man seems hellbent of being allergic to emotion.

Jason:

Now, while I don’t think Jason is as emotionally unstable as a lot of people think he is due to the pit, I do think he’s awkward as hell when it comes to Robins. Everyone knows he loves kids and is basically a guardian of all children in Gotham, but his fear of his fate becoming theirs probably gets to him.

So when he sees Tim fixating on a case that’s either cold or old enough to not be relevant, he quickly realises that the boy is also it as obsessive as Bruce is with the Joker, just more brood with his obsession being all crime.

Jason sees his once unyielding desire to help people like him in a (mostly) spoilt rich kid and feels those good old heart strings yank.

Unlike Dick, he’s not as worried about coming off as an asshole and quickly becomes determined to get Tim into a comfortable bed with a good book that won’t drive him mad looking for clues. He uses his strength against the younger lad and gets Alfred to help him convince Tim to eat some proper protein food.

When Tim mumbles a tired ‘thank you’ to Jason, his instinct is to say no problem before running off to hide away from his family so he doesn’t have to confront that maybe the poor kid who had to take after him is better than he ever was.

Damian:

Growing up with assassins leaves Damian with as many emotional troubles as his father, but luckily for the youngest active Robin, he has good around him now.

When he notices Tim has been in the same spot at the Batcomputer since he saw him that morning, he just assumes that he’s doing important Red Robin work. It’s only after he looks at the screen and sees that Tim is actually going over how the sewer system all the way in Metropolis is going that he scoffs and begins to drag Tim’s chair over to the elevator.

Tim by this point would be used to his brother doing this as his odd way of showing care.

He learns to relent quickly because Damian will make good on his threat to get Alfred or Bruce and tell on him for his lack of self care.

Damian doesn’t talk to his brother, never knowing what to say, but he is a smart kid who’s more observant that people give him credit for. So, he will put Tim in front of his room and shove him inside before standing In front of the door until Tim goes to shower.

Then it’s just a matter of asking Pennyworth for some food and leaving it on Tim’s bed along with Alfred the Cat (who is far better physical comfort than he is) and then promptly deny he ever did anything outside of making sure Red Robin was fit for combat.

If he sometimes makes Tim herbal tea without any help, that’s no one’s business.

[piedpiperart]

Phantom of Gotham 18

Chapter 17

”I can’t believe you!” Tim exclaimed, punching Danny in the arm when he spotted him in class. 

“Ouch!” Danny laughed nervously, rubbing his arm. “You-”

“You could have told me you were leaving! Or at least talked to us about it first,”Tim said, exasperated. Danny watched him throw himself into the seat next to Danny dramatically and throw his bag down, only to dig through it for a tupperware of… oh, were those Alfred’s cookies? Danny hoped they were for him. Alfred’s cookies were awesome. “Now even Damian is bugging me about you and telling me to just take you home after school.”

“Uh, you guys did say I could leave and that you wouldn’t call CPS,”Danny reminded him, rubbing the back of his neck. Tim gave him a look, blowing some bangs out of his eyes.

“Yes. And we’ll stick to that. But you know we only said that because we’d hope to convince you to stay at the manor. Because we’re rich and we have an infinite amount of space for you to stay,”Tim stressed. “Seriously. Where are you staying now?”

“Not telling,”Danny deflected immediately. “You guys got a frickin’ vigilante working for you, I’m not a snitch.”

“That’s not-” Tim threw his hands into the air exasperatedly. “Fine! But only talkers get cookies,”Tim glared, sliding the tupperware of solid gold goodness away from Danny’s hands. Danny pouted, but didn’t relent. 

The day continued like that, with Tim trying to convince him to stay at the manor, while Danny deflected and changed  subjects like a bored teen changing channels on a tv. I was getting cumbersome for both of them by lunch though, and they’d settled for a truce. Danny ended up getting a few cookies while Steph joined them at the lunch table. She was soon cackling over the Waynes losing a potential adoptee and for Danny sneaking out. They high-fived. Tim was not amused. By the multitude of texts to Tim’s phone, the family wasn’t either. 

RobinHood

Went to the Pizzaria, kid’s stuff is gone. 

LittleJohn

Damn. I got nothing on my end. Any ideas?

RobinHood

Tail him after school

MaidMarian

You think he’ll notice?

LittleJohn

Well, he might if he’s got a ghost looking out for him Steph. We’re not sure where Phantom went the other day but we do know that Danny got out of the manor without triggering any security.

RobinHood

Plus Phantom is friends with Danny. 

MaidMarian

Eh, we can still try. Or just kidnap him as civilians (≖⌣≖)

LittleJohn

Eh… Maybe. Last resort.

RobinHood

I could just take him from school

MaidMarian

•̀ ᎑ -

LittleJohn

No!! That would be so much worse oh my god

Jason sighed at his brother’s lack of creativity. He’d thought the Pizzaria might have been cleared out but seeing it for himself still made his heart sink. If only there was some clues to where the kid had gone, he thought. No doubt he was anywhere but around Hood’s territory now. 

To be fair, he wasn’t nearly as worried about the kid now that he knew he had ghost powers that helped him survive. Still, Jason knew living on the streets wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Part of him thought that maybe the kid was scared that everyone hunting him would put the Waynes in danger. He wasn’t wrong to think that, but they could handle themselves. Sure, ghosts were a new thing for them, but they adapted. Made plans. 

Jason wasn’t sure they’d be able to keep Danny or Phantom in one place without using some kind of ghost technology like the GIW or call in a magic user. Except Jason didn’t want to think about having weapons that Danny’s parents made to hurt him. From what he could tell, ghosts weren’t as much of a problem to humans as humans were to ghosts. Jason didn’t need ghost weapons to deal with the GIW, and he sure as hell was gonna deal with them. 

The Bats had been gathering information on them like crazy. Babs was still hacking their databases and Batman was putting together a plan to inform the Justice League. They weren’t entirely sure this was something the Green Lanterns needed to take up to the OA, but if it was they’d cross that bridge when they got to it. 

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

Damian was furious. 

He’d been texting Timothy nonstop about Danny and yet- unsurprisingly- his older brother had been unable to convince the boy to come back to the manor. Frustratingly, Timothy had not even responded to any of his text messages since lunch time and hadn’t come to the manor after school. Even Todd wasn’t answering any of his messages- plans- to convince Danny to join the family. It had been two days and Danny had still been staying who knows where. The family had not even tried to follow him home out of some misguided respect for privacy and free will. He was sure Danny was somewhere abandoned, likely somewhere lacking proper water and heat. Damian was beyond frustrated that all his hard work getting Danny used to a stable meal plan was for nothing. 

It was ridiculous how dumb Danny was acting in regards to his own safety. As one of the few species of half ghost around, he had the survival instincts of a paper bag, and Damian was of the opinion that he should be trying a lot harder considering his status. Damian had no idea why Danny would think they wouldn’t be able to protect and care for him at the manor. Obviously, Danny was an asset when it came to the Ghostly dimension given his halfa status and friendship with Phantom. There was no other reason why he wanted Danny to stay. It wasn’t like he missed the boy. Even if he was better than Timothy in every way, and had intriguing powers that he trusted Damian with. Not at all.

Damian scoffed, adjusting his tie for the third time. He didn’t want to go to this infernal Gala, especially when only Grayson and his father were attending. Cass was still in Hong Kong, and Jason and Timothy had other plans. Damian hoped those plans included getting Danny to stay at the manor. He would no doubt be a good sidekick for when Damian was older, and he would not be letting Danny slip through his fingers. 

“Are you ready Baby bat?” Grayson asked, a grin on his face and despite the formal wear, he’d somehow convinced Father to let him wear a glittery monstrosity instead of a tie. “There’s gonna be a few people B wants us to keep an eye on, wanna help me with surveillance?” Damian scoffed. “Why not. It’s not as if there will be anything else of importance going on,”He added. Grayson gave him a knowing smile, as if he was recalling just how boring and overly formal these parties were. 

“I’d say you get used to it, but…”Grayson trailed off, sighing dramatically. “Never do.” He shook his head, then they made their way to the front where Alfred and Bruce were waiting with the car. 

As far as Galas go, it was certainly not the most boring, but it definitely wasn’t providing any riveting conversations. As far as surveillance, Damian was able to trade off with Grayson during the night, switching targets and gleaming information as they went. It was no surprise that Mr. Elwood was simply in an affair than any nefarious business deals. Ms. Green on the other hand was definitely collaborating with some of the shader patrons in the Gala, whom Father suspected had ties to Penguin. 

Though, there was one target that Damian couldn’t get a read on. He was tall, haughty, and self-absorbed, yet according to B, had a perfectly clean multi-million dollar business despite multiple complaints and signs to otherwise. Damian in particular hated him on principle for the way he looked down on everyone around him. He ignored how hypocritical that statement might be and chose to eye the billionaire talking with his father. 

“As I was saying, my son Daniel reminds me a lot of your sons,”Vlad was saying to Bruce. He was wearing a gray suit with a black shirt and an annoyingly green tie. Damian was certain it was some type of football paraphernalia. “He’s very headstrong and independent for one. How do you deal with your sons when they refuse to listen to reason?”

“Oh?” Brucie said with an exaggerated confused look. He ignored the concerning question for now.“I was unaware you had any children.”

Annoyance and something else flashed across Vlad’s face before he schooled his expression to exasperation. Damian sneered at the man internally. “Ah of course, Daniel is technically my godson, but he’s like a son to me. We have a lot in common,”Vlad explained, a sneer suddenly forming and taking Damian by surprise,”At least more than his father has with him. Honestly, his mother could do so much better than that bumbling idiot.”

“Where is this Daniel then?” Damian cut in, garnering the attention of both men. Vlad seemed surprised to see him, if not a bit jealous. “If you are so close, how come he didn’t join you here?”

“I would have loved to have the little badger here beside me,”Vlad’s face twisted into something like sadness, but missed the mark. “Unfortunately, Daniel’s gone missing these past few months without so much as a word.”

Damian frowned as his father offered meaningless sympathies. Daniel? Vlad had been from Wisconsin, but he recalled the man having some sort of dealings in Amity. After a moment he remembered and scowled. This man was the Mayor of Danny’s town. He was the one who’d let the GIW in in the first place, surely. Looking up at the man’s false mask, set on gaining sympathy from his father made him light up with contempt. 

“Of course,”Vlad was saying when Damian started paying attention again.”I had originally come to Gotham to find him, you see. I’d heard something about him being spotted in the area and just had to check it out for myself.”

That was bad. If he was talking about Danny, then Vlad somehow had gotten ahold of information about his whereabouts. Who else had that intel? Was the GIW or the Fentons on his tail? Was Danny in danger? He quickly excused himself from the two adults and meandered over to his elder brother to relay the information. Hopefully they could get Danny to a safe location before something bad happened. 

Chapter 19

[dairy-farmer]

Pretty young Timmy. He was Jack and Janet’s baby, they spoiled him to ruin. He’s a monster, does what he wants when he wants and will always get his way, and so he’ll him god if you don’t prepare for him to *fight* — screaming, crying, punching and kicking and breaking anything he can get his hands on.

When they die he’s young, Bruce is his godfather, and Bruce is relaxed at first, spoils him, his parents just died so he’ll give him some leeway. But after acting out at some big gala Bruce puts his foot down, no matter what Tim does he’s going to fix him. Dick and Jason and Alfred are all there when Tim asks for a new phone — he’d broken his when he threw it at Bruce’s face after he’d told him he wouldn’t order him takeout for dinner. Tim creams for hours, days, the others beg him to give in but he won’t relent. He’s going to fix the kid, he has to for his sake, it isn’t healthy for him.

So Tim does what he does best when the screaming won’t work and moves onto the next tactic, always worked on his parents before. He comes into Bruce’s room one night, climbs up and straddles him and starts riding him. Tim asks so sweetly if Daddy will buy him a new phone while Bruce starts gasping, telling him yes as he cums inside him and Timmy clenches down.

Bruce never told him no again, and Timmy got somewhere to release his anger?

Not that great for formatting that just a stream of consciousness so not the best, basically spoiled brat Timmy having sex with his new guardian Bruce so he keeps getting his way, Jack and Janet were the same before they died. Maybe he does it with the entire family?

!!!!!!!!!!!!!! spoiled baby timmy who got whatever he wanted because he knew exactly what to do for adults to give him what he asked for. sometimes they're more stubborn though and no amount of demanding or crying works!!! but when tim was younger he figured out a foolproof method.

despite his age tim was a very smart baby and he listened and watched everything his parents did. so when he listened to his dad beg his mother for a 'blowjob' through the door of their bedroom and her continually refuse, tim knew he'd hit the jackpot. adults are able to give tim everything he wants. so when they don't give into his screams then he needs to leverage the only thing that he has over them.

tim ends up breaking his new toy from paris when he kicked it down the stairs following a tantrum. the only way to replace it would be to pay teh very expensive fee of shipping it from the small store all the way across the pond. and jack may have spoiled his child but he wasn't about to do that. and for the first time ever jack drake put his footdown and said no. until tim corners him in the bathroom after janet has left for work and sinks to his knees.

tim is a very clever little child and he knew how to use the family computer to figure out what it was that his dad wanted so desperatly.

by the end jack drake is panting and tim is tugging on his dress shirt and whining about if he'll get tim a new toy now and so jack agreees. so long as timmy does that for daddy again.

the next time tim tries sucking jack's dick for something it doesn't work. and tim is devestated! until he applies himself and figures out something else his daddy might want.

tim goes into his dad's office while he's on the phone having left his panties in his bedroom and only wearing his skirt, determined to get what he wants. tim bounces and clumsily lets his dad fuck his little hole until jack is gripping him tight and close and flooding tim's insides with the warm 'cum' tim read all about.

it's not as bad as tim thought it would be. with how adamant his mom refused to do it he thought it'd be worse but so long as tim gets all the candy and toys he wants he'll fuck hsi daddy as often as he needs to! tim informing his father as such with a determined pout has jack surging forward and roughly fucking tim against the desk a second time while tim whined about wanting the new gaming console he saw on tv. the next day tim get his console and is on his back for every game that comes out that he wants.

bruce is a tough nut.

tim's parents being dead only earns him so much leniency and when tim acts out too much he gets reprimanded and grounded and gets his things taken away from him!!!

and tim is furious!!! because jack and janet used to get him anything he wanted. janet would fold easily because tim would threaten to stopp fucking jack if she didn't get that thing he wanted and jack gave in so long as tim warmed hs cock for a little while.

but bruce is stubborn and tim's sure he can handle it. until his phone breaks and bruce refuses to get him a new one. he tells tim something about him earning the money for a new one on his own and the word just sparks the idea in tim's head.

and it works. bruce's cock is bigger than jack's and tim has to work harder, grinding close and pressing the head in. bruce startles awake just as tim manages to sink all the way down and just stares at tim with big eyes as he bounces and rolls his hips just the way his old dad liked. bruce might be different but he folds too, agreeing to tim's request for a phone just as long as he gets to cum inside.

tim wonders if he should ask about the vitamins his dad used to make him take, once saying about how it would make sure there were no problems 'here' while patting tim's abdomen before turning and muttering about how the last thing they needed was another tim.

tim wondered if he should ask bruce about that because tim hated being sick. but he was too focused on bruce flipping them over and beginning to fuck furiously into tim to ask.

[sarcasticbambi]

Found Souls Chapter II

<Prev Next>

Looking back on those years, Damian thinks just how much things have changed.

Not only did he learn that his early education and life experiences were not normal, they were also extremely traumatising to his person on levels he’s still trying to understand. Thankfully, his family has been very helpful in helping him understand and overcome such issues.

One of the things he remembers struggling with the most, was trust.

It took, in Dick’s words, “too long” for him to be able to tell them when he needed something that was not required for his “cover” as a student at Gotham Academy.

Like his art - he’d sneak out to buy supplies whenever they ran out, usually using patrol as a cover for it.

That was until he was caught by Jason one time when he had to go closer to Crime Alley because his regular store was closed after a Rogue attack.

Jason descended the alley he was trying to change, and asked him what he was doing sneaking around. After a “heartfelt” conversation, Jason explained to him that he did not need to sneak out during patrol to get art supplies or any other personal requests. That he just had to ask Alfred or any of the other siblings and they’d certainly be happy to help.

They then had a robbery which they were the closest to, so after confirming with Oracle that they’d take care of it, Jason promised to take him to the supply store after patrol, and they’d buy everything he needed and some more for reserves.

Jason also asked to see his art, but that took another year or two to happen.

He’d apparently also gotten Alfred in a frenzy over not having an “appropriate space to engage in his hobbies”, and thus came to be “Damian’s Art Room”, which was only accessible to him and whoever he’d let in, the number of which has increased throughout the years.

The other thing he seemed to have a big issue with was, to no one’s surprise, loyalty.

Considering that his early developing stages were spent in the League, and that not really everyone was happy with him being the Demon’s grandchild, he was a target every other time.

Teachers, trainers, and even assistants had attempted on his life, so he learned very early on not to trust anyone, and that their “loyalty” was not always towards who it should be. In the League, you either had someone you trusted and several connections, or you had enemies - even if they masked themselves as your comrade (not friend, never friend.).

These topics were less of an issue after he moved to Gotham, but were still very much troubling in his life, especially when it came to his wings and soulmate design.

The first and only person to know his soulmate design during his first 3 years in Gotham, was Alfred - and it was only because of an injury and he refused to get treatment because he didn’t want anyone to see it - that way, no one could use it as a weakness, or to threaten him with, like they did in the league.

It was only after being told of Alfred’s extensive medical training and that it’d only be the two of them in the room until treatment was over, that he relented to having it taken care of in the Batcave, since the other option was being taken to an actual hospital.

This was almost at the end of his first year living in Gotham, and it wasn’t until he turned 13 that he trusted his father and Dick with his soulmate design.

It took a long time to get there, but when they did reach that level of trust, he found that he quite enjoyed it. There was no judgement for preferring to hide it, nor was there mocking for the fact his design was so pink and filled with cherry blossom flowers and little ladybugs on them.

Actually, it had the opposite reaction. They were saying that whoever his soulmate was would be a lovely person and probably cared a lot for nature and would be a good match for his love for animals. And wasn’t that a great feeling? To have his family and the people that he’d come to trust be as happy and excited for him to meet his soulmate as he was?

It had been the only thing on his mind the entire time he was in the League, after all. He’d been mocked and punished several times over having such a feminine design even though he was the Demon Head’s Heir, as if it was something he could control. Sometimes, he was even threatened to have his wings cut off because whoever was behind that design, couldn’t possibly be a good match for him as the future ruler of the League of Assassin so, they were thinking of making it impossible for him to ever find them. His only saving grace was that his soulmate mark was nowhere close to resembling that of those living around him. Now, looking at the person he cares for the most - more than himself even - he remembers just how he went from valuing his soulmate design above all else because it meant freedom, to actually being free and letting himself loose to find his own love story.

And it was the best choice he could ever make.

<Prev Next>

[therealcalicali]

PREVIEW: WHITE LIES AU - BOOK 3

“Eiriana….” Ivar said as he finally cast his gaze in her direction. “What are you trying to get at this evening?

“You forget that I overhear things. And from what I recall, you and your brothers have made an enemy of King Leif Ericsson. Therefore, any news of you being incapable of fighting would give him reason to strike Kattegat.”

Truth be told, he longed to cause great havoc. Not only against the likes of King Alfred and Värro. But also with Prince Hallmund; whom he blamed for introducing you to his cousin in the first place. However, it seemed wiser to leave such battles for another time.  

“I will make my health a priority.” Ivar relented. “But do not make whispering in my ear, a new habit. That is the duty of my Advisors. Understand?”

“Of course, my King. But also remember, until Queen Y/N’s return,  do not behave like a jilted lover. Break things in private if you must. But desist with these outbursts that cause tongues to wag.”

“Go away, Eiriana!.” Ivar hissed with eyes darkened by rage. He then returned focus to his meal. "I do not want you here when my brother arrives.”

“As you wish.”

“Ronan, you boast a great deal in Värro’s absence.” Princess Tiffally countered; sounding far older than her fifteen years. “But you never make such claims otherwise; even Maester Gilead calls you a braggart.”

“Maester who?”

“You know very well who he is. We have all been under his tutelage; at one time or another.”

“Hmm, the name is still unfamiliar. But then again, I do not make habit of gossiping with servants.”

“But you make habit of placing bets with them.” Eleven year old Princess Dorrit interjected to the amusement of everyone.

As the debate continued, King Daegar set a hand upon the Queen’s own. But though she did not shrink away from his touch, Lythia made it clear that she would protect Värro without his blessings.

“My wife….” King Daegar whispered. “We cannot mistreat Queen Y/N based upon emotion. Moreover, I have already given my word as host and cannot withdraw such a promise.”

“Then my position remains unchanged. Or have you forgotten the girl is wedded to Ivar Ragnarsson?”

“Aye, this I know.”

“Yet, you remain apathetic.”

Though frustrated to no end, King Daegar listened to his wife’s concerns. But without realizing it, a smile soon crossed his face.

“Do you find the subject matter amusing?” Queen Lythia snapped.

“Not at all. It is only that you remind me of my late Aunt; Lady Elastane. She too possessed great wit. However, she could be overprotective to a fault.”

“Well, at lease she would be concerned for Värro.”

“That is hardly fair. I also want the best for him, and the rest of our children.”

Regrettably, his words fell on deaf ears. So as the feast continued, the topic was dropped entirely.

“Father, I would like to join Värro in his duties upon his return.” Prince Ronan abruptly announced to the astonishment of his parents and Ser Barrish. “Obviously, find matters of state to be a chore most times. But perhaps it is high time I participated formally. After all, I am heir to the throne.”

Though wary of Ronan’s sudden show of interest, King Daegar nodded. But Queen Lythia was exceedingly pleased. For it had been her prayer for her two eldest to work side-by-side. And if God was kind, they could even behave more like brothers than feuding rivals.

“This is exhilarating!” Prince Ronan declared with a boyish grin. “Now I can hardly wait for Värro and Queen Y/N’s arrival.”

“Is that true?” Asfrid asked Prince Värro. “You will convince mother to allow me riding lessons?”

Certainly, Torsten’s illness was a source of despair for all aboard the vessel. However, no one felt the impact more than your kindhearted daughter. For this reason, your brother Kori, and Huntsman Icarus provided distractions whenever possible. But on this particular afternoon, Värro volunteered his services.

Thus, as the two chatted in the lounging cabin, he filled Asfrid’s mind with happy thoughts.

“I cannot guarantee your mother's blessings. However, we can improve our chances by taking the right approach.”

“How, may I ask?”

“Firstly, we need to host a proper Name-Day celebration; since hers passed without ceremony. And with you knowing her tastes better than anyone…” Värro said as Asfrid’s eyes widened with anticipation. “You shall take charge.”

“Really?”

With a nod, Värro told Asfrid that she could choose everything down to the last detail. A thought that made her clasp her hands gleefully. But after processing the notion a while longer, your daughter's smile gradually became a pout.

“I have no coin to my name.” Asfrid sadly confessed. “And mother says I cannot carry any until I am much older.”

“Your Highness, it would be an honor to bear the costs. Especially since I requested your guidance in the first place. So, are we surprising your mother…or not? ”

“Oh, yes Prince Värro! And I shall do my very best.”

[lya-dustin]

Slight preview for part ii for Food of Love

(Apologies to all, my oc Eva (from my other blog @evita-shelby ) has tossed me in the trunk and decided she wants to exist in some form in the last kingdom)

Also Osferth was passed on as Alfred’s maternal kinsman by him and was allegedly named heir after Edward's son in a will charterd in 909. I took some liberties with that, also Osferth was given a pretty good inheritance.

The Kingdom of León is modern day Leon and Castile in northern spain, at the time most of the Iberian Peninsula was ruled by the Emirate of Córdoba)

Cw: mentions of slavery, witchcraft and one little murder

“He is a monk!” Your mother exclaimed in disgust. "And an honest one, really, daughter, I would have preferred a Dane."

You had expected them to be angry for going out of your way to get a husband, but then again, your family was not at all like the others.

“He is second in line for King Alfred’s throne, my love. His belief in god can be excused for now.” Your father pinched the bridge of his nose as his wife fumed over the match. “A cold or a hunting accident could make your daughter Queen of Wessex.”

“You had no qualms on having them as guests these past nights.” You interject having inherited your mother’s stubborn streak and your father takes that as is cue to leave on the excuse of checking on some buisness or the other.

“That is because guests leave, besides you know well why I am opposed to this match.” Your mother countered. “What would happen if he came to discover what we are?”

You are witches, your mother had come from a long line of them before the family fell from grace in the Kingdom of León and were sold into slavery.

According to lore she was such a beauty she was sold to the Emir of Córdoba ,but escaped before the men had the chance to get her to the Emir.

After that she used her clairvoyance to find a ship heading somewhere she would not risk recapture by her enemies and find a man who she saw in a dream.

She is very sure you have inherited her gifts, but you have grown and no ability like that has manifested in you.

Perhaps your daughters will have it, you hope Osferth does not mind a bit of magic if it does happen.

“Father Beocca’s wife is a witch, and he speaks well of her.” You point out. “And as father said, a cold could make him king. He is also a warrior and friends with Irishmen and Danes, he is not prejudiced against us like the last priest you killed.”

That priest didn’t choke on a bone, mother stared at him until he did when he told father he mustn’t be ruled by his foreign wife.

“Fine, you may wed him, but the moment the little monk proves to be unworthy of you, I get to kill him.” Your mother relented thinking he won’t return for you as he promised. “But I do like that you showed initiative, well done, my girl.”

[headingalaxys-spicy]

I have arisen from my deep slumber 😌

Could I request a part 2 for the Yandere Bully America ask? I like these kind of dynamics, which I also have discovered in another tumblr blog a few months ago, where America is being a total douche to the new country. I think their name was llamacup or something like that.

Anyway, have a nice day or night, thank you~

🥹😘

Hello there it’s 2023 and I’m filled with DETERMINATION ahahaha.

I want to answer all my story posts this year! 🌟

Tw: Death-of minor characters and torture.

✨⭐️Happy First Friday of the year⭐️✨

“You’ll never see the light of day again,” was a promise that hasn’t been broken.

Darkness became your new muse for crafting your mindset in captivity. Fear was on the loudspeaker having your mind teeter on the edge. When would you hear the dreaded clicks of his oxford loafers on the marble floor? Anxiety permeated your nervous system causing you to tremble like a neverending earthquake. How did things get this bad? Why, you? Why did it have to be you?

You felt hollow and sullen like a decaying tree succumbing to an infestation of black turpentine beetles. This is already after America stormed into your life like a hurricane and damaged you and your nation permanently with his supreme act of violence against you and Britain at the world meeting.

However while you may have been in captivity your love was not.

“Mr. Kirkland, how would you like us to give you some added assistance? We don’t have our duties at the palace today.” Some of his loyal long-time palace guards wanted to join in on Operation: Silent Alarm.

The messy golden haired blonde ceased his hurried pace towards the black Audi A1 car headed to the airport.

“It’s quite alright, gentlemen. I already have some of my best men with a solid plan to rescue Y/N.”

“Oh come on lad. You know that brute will definitely try to kill ye again. We can be a great backup after all we are trained and well equipped with weapons.”

Arthur couldn’t help but allow a small smile to form on his normally grumpy face. He loved how dedicated some of his people were to him and his royals. He still had to be as discreet as possible in order to get under that crafty American’s nose. It took him a few months in order to finally locate (Country Name). The bastard had her imprisoned in the New Hampshire wilderness underground in an elaborate labyrinth Alfred created back in the 60’s. He also had his pesky guards and security system to break through. Thankfully MI6 was more than ready to deal with this.

He again turned their offer down but requested that they be ready for him and his return with you. He would not be leaving without you. They relented and allowed him to leave so that the mission could begin. Arthur pressed the small button on his discreet earpiece.

“Testing operatives lavender and thyme do you read me? Have the both of you successfully landed in D.C. to carry on negotiations?”

A few moments drifted by while the diver started the car while Artheur continued to make sure all the pieces were in place for his rescue operation.

He waited tensely as he waited for a reply.

“Yes, operative Bluebell. We’ll let you know if we’ve located the Burger Man.”

“Copy that. Tally ho. To save y/n here we go.” Like a soldier getting ready to lead the charge on horseback Arthur sprints to his private jet that would take him just outside of Pittsberg, NH.

*******

After laying down in your own tears and mucus for what felt like a few minutes you lift your head up to look at the somewhat barren room you were confined to. It had the basics of what America thought you’d like to keep you entertained while you’re in captivity. A TV that had basic cable, Youtube, and Netflix. A plain (favorite color) journal, a stack of comic books and manga, art supplies, and a few old books that he clearly pulled from his attic in an attempt to try to find more things to entertain you since he plans on living the rest of your existence out in that tiny room.

You were beginning to go Stir-crazy from being confined for so long. Your only comfort was a man that you considered to be a monster that was crafted from a Stephen King novel. Your life became to that of a drawn out horror movie except the only difference is that the monster had taken a liking to you and fucked your brains out on numerous occasions.

“Damn it.” You spat in frustration. You growl under your breath, you wish the mental anguish would simply fade away. You begin to pace back and forth in your room. You listened carefully to the soft crunch of the marshmallow-like carpet given away under your feet. As you continued to do this for hours you eventually heard a few peculiar sounds that piqued your interest. At first you ignored it considering that what you were hearing was nothing more than maybe America or one of his staff milling about through the… where ever the fuck you were. Not that it mattered. No one could hear you nor could anyone-

The flatscreen TV that's mounted to your wall suddenly sparked to life. It startled you and you quickly jumped up in the air like a cat that’s seen a cucumber and flung yourself onto your plush bed and shielded yourself with your (favorite color) duvet.

“OH SHIT!”

“Y/N, Y/N do you can you hear me?” A familiar British accent called out from the screen.

With heavy drawn in breaths that filled your lungs it took you a few moments for your brain to recognize that it wasn’t the monster….

“Y/N?” He says much more gently this time. As if calling out to a severely injured dog. The tone was heavy with sadness. “Y/N… please …I hope you can hear me.”

A few tears pricked your eyes. His voice was the only thing that sounded like a daydream after being in this watered down version of hell.

“A…Arthur?” You say in a weak hoarse voice. There was still a voice in your mind screaming that it was a trick, a facade, a cruel prank that America was playing. All of the alarms in your brain were going off in a blaring symphony of panic. You were too afraid to remove your cover still and your shaking had begun again.

Silence hung over the room. You dared not to speak again.

Arthur stared at his screen that allowed him to see where you’d been imprisoned. He knew he had seen your slightly battered form run for the covers. He knew full well that you were not in the best headspace for any human nor country to be in. But he still had to try, because being left to America he'll surely turn you into a completely different country. You’d be unrecognizable. He tried not to think about all the ways that you’d change and did his best to put the images of you being America’s wife out of his mind.

Arthur called out once more with his voice cracking, this time you finally decide to take a peak from your massive duvet and look at the screen to see those dazzling emerald eyes. They were coated over with salt water that already began to spill onto his somewhat reddened cheeks.

“Oh my god it really is you. But…”

“Listen , Y/N we’ll save the heartfelt conversations for later. Let’s concentrate on getting you out of here. Within the next 30 seconds I need you to push your nightstand aside. One of my agents has constructed a tunnel that will lead you to the East and into the forest where I’ll be. I just need you to stay calm and….. It’s going to be okay.” He reassures you. Judging by the tension that you had in your face and the terror pouring from your eyes he knew he had to be more verbally accommodating to you in your fragile state.

‘Definitely going to ask France to make us a nice meal and I’ll actually have to be nice to get him to do it. Y/N is in some desperate need of pampering and escapism after this.’ He mused to himself.

You were still shaking tremendously. You hadn’t even registered his words in order to take action. However the agent Rosemary had reached you and effortlessly moved the nightstand from the hidden entrance that crumbled.

“(Country name)?” The agent calls out from the hidden tunnel. “Hurry, we have to get out of here. The guards are distracted but some of the other personnel will come to check on you and we have to allow the decoy take over for you before-”

Numerous footsteps pounding against the marble floor swarmed through the labyrinth. They began to draw nearer to your room.

“Y/N I promise it will be okay just listen to agent Rosemary. She’ll get you out of there safe and sound.”

“What are you guys going to use as a decoy?” Curious as to what your British love interest was scheming.

“This love.” A realistic hologram of you sprung to life from the screen. It was realistic. “Now tally ho. Get the hell out of there!” His transmission ends while your hologram continues to be projected through the screen. It wouldn’t be long before America’s guards figured out that it wasn’t you.

“My lady.” Rosemary pushed you into the escape route and you began to crawl for your life. With the agent right behind you couldn’t help but feel the tension that was in the pit of your stomach and made you somewhat nauseous. You had to cling to the fresher memory of Arthur in your mind to continue your escape and not be caught.

You had to get back to him you were determined to.

*******

In Washington, D.C. Burger Man I mean America was in a deadlock debate with Lavender and Thyme over trade deals. Agent Thyme’s golden hair swished violently as he pounded his fist against the table in heated debate with America.

“You can’t just harbor a personification and then begin a hostile takeover of their government and start spreading your propaganda like some twisted infestation! It’s illegal first and foremost. And second it VIOLATES THE ENTIRE BLOODY UNITED NATIONS CHARTER! And you’re supposed to be a LEADER?! You act like such a petulant child!”

“Funny that comes from a man that had more than half the world in the palm of his hand. How dare you insult me in my own senate.” He hissed back at England in pure defiance.

(they die at the end.)

“You’re acting like a super villain in one of your stupid comic books that you melt your already stupid brain with.”

The verdant versus aqua eyes collided with one another. Neither was the type to let their pride down. The air was tense with a thousand needles and no one wanted to be caught in the crosshairs. Teeth biting, nervous shifting, and over hundreds of eyes witnessing the showdown between two sworn enemies since the betrayal. Some cracked their knuckles to at least relieve some tension that was broiling within the room. America had reached the point where negotiations were at a stalemate and….

America’s earpiece beeped in his ear and although his facial expression stayed neutral and as distant as the moon. His eyes bled out with rage and stared out at ‘England’ with a look that was meant to obliterate one within mere milliseconds. He stood up suddenly as if a giant had been awoken from a peaceful slumber and was in a terrible mood.

He snapped his fingers.

Secret service surrounded Thyme and Lavender. The ruse was up.

“Kill them. Right here. Right now. They’re fakes.” America ordered.

“It was a pleasure working with you, Lavender.” The spell that Arthur originally put onto him wore off and their true identities were revealed. They raised their hands high into the air.

“We did our duty.” Lavender uttered her last words she’d ever speak in this world.

A few hundred rounds were fired off within seconds filling the air with deathly gunpowder. Two less souls came out of the senate that day. The monster raged through the White House all night. It was a scene straight out of hell. Glass broke, things set ablaze, people injured, and some even parished. The only thing that most who were in earshot of the White House could hear

Y/N HOW DARE YOU!

UK I WILL KILL YOU!

Y/N IS MINE!

Then just more hellish shrieks would follow. No one really wanted to question what was going on for fear they would be caught up in the chaos. They stayed away and allowed it to happen.

*******

For the first time in a while Y/N could rest peacefully without having a horrid lucid nightmare that would only bring her down deeper into depression. She finally felt okay for a moment between England’s athletic arms. She actually got to sleep and recharge her broken soul.

“Is everything going to be alright Arthur?” Your anxieties are still nibbling at the back of your ears. It was nice that you could talk to him but you still feared that he’d leave you because you’re damaged and neurotic. A ball of untamable wild energy that no one would want to deal with.

“Y/N it’s okay. I want you to relax. I won’t leave you. I won’t harm you like America. I promise.” He kissed the back of your collarbone. You felt a million bright butterflies fly from that area and through your entire being you felt relieved and could live in the moment. You felt relaxed and safe. Nothing could ruin this for you. You melted like hot butter in Arthur’s arms. You didn’t want to think, just feel. Nothing else mattered.

Except for the brewing storm that was brewing from across the pond.

[as-is-above-so-below]

In the Middle of the Night (Jason Todd x OC)

Masterlist

Chapter 3, Chapter 5

story summary: Melanie Withers and Jason Todd do everything together - including but not limited to stealing tires off Gotham's famous vigilante. The newest additions to the Wayne family begin their journey, learning how to navigate their new family, life as vigilantes, adolescence, grief, and rebirth.

chapter summary: Melanie's birthday and AN ADOPTION!

Chapter 4

December 2011

Bruce wasn't able to enroll them at Gotham Academy before he became their legal guardian, so the weeks following Thanksgiving were mainly spent exploring the manor, causing mischief, and lazing about. As promised, Dick took Melanie out to find decor for her room, just the two of them. He had to use a little force to get her to pick things out as Alfred had, but he was more teasing and antagonizing. It was strangely nice getting to bond with him without Nightwing and Robin in the way. Jason got the same treatment, a full day out on the town and a trip to the arcade. He and Bruce had another spitting argument about the future of Robin; this time, they made sure to lock down the Batcave, barring Jason and Melanie from spying again.

Rude.

Her thirteenth birthday came and went as well. Bruce put up a fight, but she insisted on not having a party. Next year you can throw the birthday bash of your dreams , she told him. Alfred and Jason (mainly Alfred) baked her a delicious cake, which they all horribly sang “Happy Birthday” over. Her cheeks were flushed a deep red for an hour afterward. Dick gifted her a giant, thick quilt that she eyeballed on their shopping trip but had passed up because it was outrageously priced. 

“Dick, I can’t take this–”

“Yes, you can! I threw the receipt out, you don’t have a choice,” he snickered, the tip of his tongue stuck between his teeth.

Smug bastard.

Again against her request, Jason bought her a stereo system, so they could listen to music and dance together. He was a big fan of dancing with her – it was one of the few things they had when they were at their lowest. Even if they couldn’t scrounge batteries for their little pocket radio, he would always sing or hum a tune. Starving, exhausted, and dirty, he could still hold her close and shuffle about whatever place they temporarily called home. She almost couldn’t be upset with him for giving her such a thoughtful gift, but she still gave him a half-hearted shove.

Ironically, the only person who did what she asked was Bruce. Instead of buying her a gift, he surprised her with a visit from the seamstress and Lucius Fox. The seamstress took her measurements and walked her through what she wanted her dress to look like for the Wayne Gala on New Year's Eve. When the woman left, Bruce took her and Jason down to the cave to design their suits with Lucius, which was much more interesting than the dress.

After a half hour spent arguing, Melanie relented and let Jason take up the mantle.

Jason was officially Robin.

His would remain relatively unchanged from the original Robin suit. It would still be red, green, and yellow, with the Robin emblem on his left breastplate. With the addition of pants. And sleeves. And actual shoes.

Okay, maybe a lot was changed, but the structure was there.

When her turn came, she hastily shoved Jason into the elevator, ignoring his complaints. Her persona would be a surprise .

Soft snow flurried to the ground, carried by a cold breeze that had taken over Gotham. The temperatures had dropped significantly in December, and snow had quickly turned from a thin blanket to several inches of fluff. The Gotham City Courthouse was huge and historical; not as intimidating as the manor, but a close second. It was possible that the courthouse itself wasn’t intimidating and instead the task ahead made Jason nervous. As they climbed the white marble steps, his hand shot out to grab Melanie’s in front of him, but Dick came up behind and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You alright there, Jaybird?” he questioned, giving him a gentle, reassuring squeeze. When Jason didn’t respond, he wrapped an arm around his back in a side hug. “I know it seems scary, but it’ll be quick. Won’t be in here for more than thirty minutes, promise.”

Jason’s head bobbed, finally breaking his gaze from the building and meeting Dick’s. “I just… I don’t like places like this. It makes me queasy,” he muttered, suddenly feeling small.

Dick’s palm pressed his shoulder, rubbing gently in an attempt to ground the teen. He didn’t want to pretend to know what Jason and Melanie were going through; when he became Bruce’s ward, he had come from a loving, albeit unconventional, family. He didn’t know what it was like to starve or fend for himself on the streets of Gotham. But what he could do was be a shoulder to lean on and offer his unconditional support. 

Bruce’s hand around Melanie’s steadied her when they crossed through the double doors of the small municipal courtroom. It wasn’t as big as a criminal court, meant only for proceedings such as adoption. There were just enough seats for a few friends or family to attend if invited; that wasn’t the case for them today. Melanie had asked if Bruce and Dick would invite their “super friends” as she called them, but they decided it was too soon to introduce their real identities. So for now, it was just Dick and Alfred joining them. Jason appeared beside her with tender fingertips to her spine, which she leaned into with a smile.

“We’re going to sit on the left there,” Bruce commented, tilting his head in the direction of the long table. “Dick and Alfred will sit behind us. The judge is just going to go over the paperwork and make sure everything is in order. Then she’ll ask the state’s attorney if they object to the motion – Which they won’t,” he quickly added, seeing Jason and Melanie’s eye shoot to his. “They won’t. I promise. Everything’s taken care of, but it's all part of the process. I’ll sign the declaration, and we’ll submit the forms to change your names.”

Melanie nodded in understanding, happy to have the process explained. They’d talked about it several times before their appointment, but it was reassuring to hear it again. The judge entered from the door behind the bench, signaling them to sit down. Melanie and Jason slid into their seats before Bruce settled between them, patting Jason’s thigh with a smile.

“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Wayne. Considering your experience with Mr. Grayson, I don’t have to ask nearly as many questions as I usually would.” She shuffled some papers around, her glasses on the tip of her nose while she searched through the stack. “Ah, here it is. It looks like everything is in order.” Her glasses were placed on the desk, and her body leaned forward. “Mr. Wayne, do you understand that adoption is a lifelong, permanent commitment? And that you are assuming all responsibility and liability for these children?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Miss Withers, Mr. Todd, do you want this adoption to proceed? Are you happy under Mr. Wayne’s care?”

Warm smiles graced both of their faces as they chirped, “Yes” and “Definitely”, talking over each other.

The older woman grinned back at them, her eyes crinkling. She turned her eyes to Dick in the back, waving her hand. “Hello again, Mr. Grayson. Lovely to see you all grown up. Your brother’s been treating you two well, I hope?”

“He’s obnoxious–”

“ Jason!”

“What?! He is!”

Dick snickered behind them, arms crossed over his chest. He shifted forward over the guard rail and flicked the back of Jason’s head, causing a howl from the kid. He whipped around to retaliate until Bruce scolded the boys with a harsh ch between his teeth. “We are in a courthouse. Knock it off.”

Jason hesitated but decided it was in his best interest to do as he was told.

The judge met Bruce’s apologetic eyes with a gentle shake of her head, her lips tugging at the edges. “I think I’ve seen enough. Is the paperwork for name changes here as well?”

“Yes, your Honor–”

“Bruce,” Jason whispered, tugging on the sleeve of his suit jacket. Bruce gave him all of his attention, his torso moving into Jason’s space. “Do I– Do I have to change my name?” His stomach rolled helplessly, his heart beating in his throat, and his eyes quickly dashed down to the table. He hated feeling like this. The last thing he wanted was to offend the man who was adopting him and giving him so much. What if he got angry? What if he kicked him out? He would never see Melanie again –

The man’s dark brows came together, wrinkles forming between them. His large, calloused hand reached up to caress the nape of his neck. Jason instantly relaxed but still looked away. “Of course not, son. Do you want to change your mind?” His voice was low, speaking only to him as if he were the most important person in the world.

Son.

His bottom lip caught between his teeth, and he raised his eyes back to Bruce’s.

Bruce pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head, and his face turned a deep shade of red. He never received that kind of affection from anyone besides Mel and his mom, let alone his father. His stomach stopped turning and filled with warm, fuzzy butterflies at the comforting hold.

Keeping his hand in place, Bruce addressed the woman, “Just for Melanie, your Honor.”

“Very well.” Her glasses slid back onto the bridge of her nose and her pen dragged across the paper. “It will take a few days for the name change to go through. I can have the Records department reach out when Melanie’s new birth certificate is ready. Otherwise, the adoption is officially approved by the City of Gotham!” She cracked her gavel, and a small applause broke out from Dick, Alfred, Bruce, and the woman at the bench. A hand ruffled her hair as she giggled, squirming away from the force. Melanie leaned into Bruce’s side and buried her face there, his arm draping over her with a throaty laugh.

“Before you all go, I do have to warn you, court dockets and schedules are available to the public. There wasn’t a crowd when you arrived because you were early, but–”

Dick’s chest huffed with an accompanying eye roll. “How many people are there?” His voice was practically begging. “It can’t be as bad as when I was adopted, right?”

A sympathetic grimace spread on her wrinkled face.

Dick and Bruce sandwiched them together between their bodies as they exited City Hall. Melanie’s fingers gripped the back of Bruce’s jacket at the flashing lights and loud attempts to grab his attention. Jason walked beside her, holding her hand tightly from Dick’s side. “Holy shit,” he exhaled a short ha! “I don’t remember nearly this many people last time.”

Holy shit’s right.

“Double the kid, double the crowd?” Jason offered, his thumb dragging back and forth across her knuckles.

Bruce scowled with pinched lips and his perfect posture somehow straightened more. Dealing with reporters came with being a Wayne, but that didn’t make it any less irritating. He had hoped to have at least a few hours to prepare them for the media frenzy that would follow the breaking news of two new children. “This is unfortunately a regular occurrence. Consider it an initiation into the family,” he muttered in an attempt to lighten the mood. “Alfred went around back to get the car, so this should be quick. If you’d like to speak, you can, but don’t feel pressured.”

Dick gasped, almost like he was going to jump out of his skin. “Does that mean I can–”

“Absolutely not.”

He visibly deflated, his lips in a deep pout. “But Bruce–”

“Dick, I said no.”

“But the chaos–!”

Dick stopped himself as a pretty redhead met the group halfway up the steps, batting her lashes at Bruce. Jason and Melanie shared a look that said Ew.

“Hello, Vicki.”

DOUBLE ew. Who would willingly go by Vicki ?

“Hi, Bruce. Mr. Grayson,” she gave Dick a quick side-eye. “And you two must be the newest additions!”

“This is Melanie,” Bruce explained, being cordial with the reporter with his dazzling smile. “And this is Jason. They’ve been in my care for the last month.” He neglected to mention just how they came under his care. The public didn’t need to know about their… criminal tendencies. “They needed a home and I’m happy to give them one.”

“That’s wonderful! Would either of you care to comment?”

Jason’s face was plastered with a wicked smirk, mischief rolling in his gut. “Fu-”

Bruce’s large hand slapped over his mouth.

Melanie choked on the laugh in her throat, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment, and Dick chortled next to Jason. Bruce glared at her, daring her to try anything funny. Alright, alright.

“Um…” She looked up at him, her hand pulling harder on his clothes. “I’m–I’m really happy we met Bruce. We were struggling just a month ago and ah… I’m not sure where we would be without him.” Bruce’s hand left Jason’s face and caressed her hair with a small but warm smile. Suddenly, a well-timed car horn all but saved them and she pressed against Bruce’s back, urging him forward.

“Thank you, Vicki, but we have to get going. A quick word?”

Dick nudged his elbow in the direction of the black vehicle through the crowd. “Give them a minute. Let’s go,” he said while moving in between Jason and Melanie, offering his hand to her, which she took. He kept a hand between Jason’s shoulders to lead them to the car, and to keep them both close in the thick crowd. He shuffled them into the car first before sliding in, letting out a hearty groan-mixed huff. “Unbelievable, they’re like vultures. It’s gross,” he muttered, dusting off his arms as if to rub away the feeling of hands grabbing at him. 

Melanie squeezed into Jason to look out the window with him, their noses squished against the glass. Her hands pressed into his thighs to support her weight as she leaned over him. “What are they talking about?” Jason questioned, watching their conversation. The reporter had lowered her microphone and leaned in to speak quietly with him. They were clearly speaking privately.

“He is reminding Miss Vale of his rules,” Alfred informed them, turning his head to look at Dick with a raised brow.

“Rules?” Melanie asked, just as he made his way towards the car. The rear side door opened, and Bruce slid into the seat across from them.

“I cannot trust a single one of you to be civilized with the media,” Bruce grumbled, plopping into the seat with a thud. “I was reminding Vicki to let her colleagues know that they are still not allowed to speak with any of you without my presence until you are eighteen. Obviously, that rule has proven its efficacy. Again.”

“Awe c’mon Bruce, I’m not that bad–”

“You absolutely are. You called Vicki a cheap knock-off of Lois Lane and tried to bite her finger– ”

“She was pinching my cheek! I don’t know what it is with the public and their incessant need to always touch me, but it all started with her! I have no regrets.”

Bruce shot him a look and Dick huffed. No one spoke, leaving the car in a comfortable silence as Alfred drove them back to the manor.

“If I may, Master Bruce,” the butler paused, waiting for Bruce’s affirmation to continue. “Etiquette training is just as important as the physical and mental preparation of their roles. Perhaps Master Dick could use a refresher as well.”

Dick’s long body was thrown across his seat with a dramatic groan, flopping into Bruce’s lap. “Can it at least wait until after we go sledding?”

“Only if I’m invited.”

The next morning, where a photo of Bruce, Dick, and Alfred in a small courtroom sat on display on the center table in the grand foyer, another frame was added. With a much older Dick, Bruce, Alfred, Jason, and Melanie in the same room, with beaming smiles and bunny ears stuck up behind the newest Waynes.

[patsypat]

“Moses, his chosen one, withstood him in the breach to turn back his destructive wrath.” Psalm 106:23 The Lord would speak to Moses face to face, as one speaks to a friend, it says in Exodus 33:11a. He was chosen to lead the Israelites out of Egypt. Then when the stiff-necked people angered God at Sinai, God said, “Let me alone, then, that my wrath may blaze up against them to consume them. Then I will make of you a great nation.” What did Moses do when God was ready to destroy all of Israel and just raise up a new nation out of Moses’ descendants? Did Moses just say yes, ok, do what You want, Lord? No, Moses “stood in the breach”. Standing in the breach is a military metaphor, meaning to stand in a break made in a fortress or city wall where an army can rush in and invade. In Sinai, Moses heroically chose to confront God, standing in the gap, interceding like a warrior who tries to stop an enemy at the risk of his life. God relented in the punishment He had threatened to inflict on His people, it says in Exodus 32:14.  We see clearly that we as Jesus’ friends (John 15:15), we may stand in the gap for others. We can plead earnestly like Moses for our family, friends, our nation, whatever we care about. Alfred, Lord Tennyson wrote in a poem, “More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of.” We will never know how much evil has been turned aside, and how much good has gushed forth, when we are at our knees in prayer. What we must take away from this passage is we must never give up praying no matter how dire the situation. We need to stand in the breach like Moses, to intercede for one another, to fill in those gaps in one another’s spiritual armor.  Today, will He find us standing in the gap for our nation, for our leaders, for our people, for our family and friends?  https://www.instagram.com/p/CqG6NohBAXd/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Ok so I know Jason and the reader confessed their love in scruffy verse but after all that maybe he could ask her out on a nice date just with stuff they enjoyed when they were little

"I'm bored," Jason groused, sprawling across your bed.

"No shenanigans with the boys today?" you ask mildly, not looking up from your book.

"Yours are more fun," he pouted, picking up his battered teddy bear to fidget with. It was supposed to be a break from school. But Gotham being Gotham and Bruce being Bruce he'd hardly seen you. You were up with the chickens, sometimes even before Alfred and out cold asleep long before he got home from patrol.

He hated it. Even if he understood. But- that didn't mean he didn't worry. You were getting a cough now that the cold weather was setting in. And he knew you were tired. Years of malnutrition and medical neglect meant you'd probably never be very physically healthy. At least not without constantly being on top of eating well and sleeping enough... which you also didn't do.

"Jay I've got so much to do-"

"C'mon," he pleaded, giving you his biggest, saddest pound puppy eyes. "We can go skating? Or go see a movie?"

When you relent a little and close your book, Jason takes it gingerly and sets it aside, putting Scruffy in your lap where it had been. "Or I can make some hot chocolate and we can just cuddle for a while," he tries. Skating would be nice, but being out in the cold would probably make your cough worse. And a movie would be good but only if you could unwind enough to watch it and enjoy it.

"A nap sounds nice," you say after a long moment, turning your head to cough.

And Jason nods, smiling a little, "You really feel like shit, huh?"

"I'm just tired-"

"Yeah. And Joker just gave me a love tap," he said, frowning as he leaned forward to touch your forehead.

"Jason Peter."

But despite your protests, you lean into the touch and Jason shakes his head, "Nap it is," he decides for you. "Can you stay awake long enough for me to find some sweats?"

"Probably," you mumble, "Maybe."

And Jason doesn't need telling twice.

When he returns with his sweats, a glass of water, and some Tylenol, you look at him in askance.

"You're getting a fever," he explained, handing them to you. His suspicions are confirmed when you don't argue. "My poor baby," he hummed, taking the glass from you.

"I'll be fine. It's just sinus crud."

"Still," he said, settling you in his arms, satisfied when you snuggle closer. "You'll feel better with a nap and a good meal in you- if you feel up to it, we'll go get dinner. See if that one Barbeque place of 64th is still there."

"They have the best banana pudding."

"Remember that one waitress? Taffy? Did we ever figure out if that was her legal name?"

"She still works there, I think. Or at least she did when I went there for your birthday before-"

Jason kissed the top of your head and slid a hand up to rub the nape of your neck, just below your hairline, "You celebrated my birthday?"

"Every year," you murmur. "And I left you a notebook."

He stopped for a second, not sure what to say and kissed your head again, making a mental note to ask if Bruce had picked them up. For years, you'd passed notebooks back and forth. In the hall between classes, during classes while you sat next to each other. It was a running conversation. And somehow, without trying, you'd broken his heart in the sweetest way.

The whole time he'd been dead, he assumed life went on. Even for you. But it hadn't even as it had. You'd kept a space for him. And he hoped Bruce kept those fucking notebooks. He wanted to know about all the conversations you'd had without him.

[har-rison-s]

mask & seek: 13

batman x fem!reader

based on: Hello! May I request Battinson x SpiderWoman!Reader fic where she's from the MCU but then she ends up in Battinson's universe and meets him? Maybe he doesn't trust her at first but once she saves him from something, he relents then begins to trust her and maybe then a relationship ensues?? Thank you so much and have a great day!! ❤

author's note: hello. this took me 9-10hours and i still think the ending sucks BUT oh well. am i gonna rewrite it ??? no. i think you guys will like it, the chapter has a nice surprise over-all, hihi, and i'm too tired and running out of time to rewrite this chapter. ngl, i have some really good moments here in my writing, and i hope you guys will see them and appreciate them :) thank u sm on the feedback, as always, i love you all. happy reading!!1

main masterlist

bruce wayne masterlist

part twelve

part fourteen

word count: 13.1k

warnings: LONGGG!!! hope it doesn't bore anyone. also smut!! p in v sex, oral sex on f, fingers in mouth, emotional sex, praise, creampie, all the good stuff yk B)

gif credit goes to owner!

bruce knows he can’t follow her. physically it’s impossible, because he’s not like her, and he’d lose a lot of time getting down on the street and onto his bike. even though there is the urge to try out the new wings he recently made, but he hasn’t even tried them out in a safer environment before, so it would be foolish and lethal to try them out now to follow her.

but he also knows where she’ll be at the end of the night. it disappoints and upsets him that she’s chosen not to meet him at their usual rendez-vous and is, instead, apparently swinging around gotham and fighting for justice on her own. it eats away at him, and he’s rightfully upset as, again, he has no explanation from her about it. did she just play him for a fool? did she lie to him?

she didn’t exactly promise to meet him. that day at her work, or any later day. she said she doesn’t know if she can ever meet him again, and she didn’t say anything after he promised to be at their place every night. she didn’t say anything. so she didn’t lie, either.

alfred’s voice is in bruce’s head again, saying she just needs time. and that he’ll scare her away if he intrudes on that space, on that time with herself. but he can’t wait any longer. it’s been nearly a week since that day at her workplace. he saw her, right now, slinging across the train tracks and the street below them. bruce almost thinks she did it for show, having the knowledge that he’ll be on location, and will be seeing her from it.

it’s only a few minutes past eleven thirty, which means she will be done with her night shift soon. on the nights bruce couldn’t make it, she usually went out at nine or ten by herself. and even though bruce never told her that, he worried for each of those nights about her, and secretly didn’t want her to go. but she’s quicker than him, and has powers, and can’t stay away from saving citizens longer than a day. she’s been out nearly every night, and only on the occasions of particularly heavy work shifts has she passed on the opportunity.

bruce guesses she’s addicted to that. saving people, putting criminals to justice, giving them what they deserve—it gets her off. it’s not the adrenaline anymore, it’s her usual nightly routine. her alcohol, her drug, her cigarette.

judging by the time he has left, bruce gets moving off the train platform. he jogs down each little set of stairs, feeling a little stupid doing it, but does it nonetheless, until he’s finally on the street level and makes his way towards that alley he parked his bike in. what is she doing out there alone? has she gone out alone before, in these six days she hasn’t met up with him? does she not want to work with him again? does she not want anything to do with him, knowing that he’ll be waiting every night for her, anyway?

she’s become a bigger mystery to him again, and it’s safe to say that bruce is bubbling over with emotions as he trudges up the fire escape stairs and unlocks the window to her living room with a little metal hook. just a small thing he always keeps in his pocket, in case he needs to break in somewhere. yes, he is intruding, and he feels like he’s intruding, rightfully so, but it doesn’t feel the least bit wrong. he has to do this. he has to see her. he has to talk to her.

he closes the window and locks it from the inside so she wouldn’t suspect anything as she’ll come in later. he doesn’t want to spook her, much less give her a heart attack, he just wants her raw and true like she always is, without any prejudice about what might have happened to her window, or who has entered it.

bruce sits down on her sofa, the one she sat him down in all those nights ago, on their first real meeting, their first solid interaction. sitting in the exact spot he was then, bruce feels memories of that night flooding in, and they play like a little short movie before his eyes. how he watched her attend to his wounds, how he helped her clean hers up, it was on her thigh. how she sat next to him and touched his hair, asking questions and telling him random different things.

he remembers how soothed he was by her. she made him immediately feel at peace, and he trusted her almost immediately, as well. she was kind to him, didn’t know and didn’t care who he was. she just wanted to be equal with him—she took off her mask, and requested he do the same. no question about his name or anything, she just needed him to understand how trust for her works. even though that instinct of hers told her to trust him already.

tears gather in his eyes at those thoughts of her. the memories are too strong, too close to his heart, even closer than he’d like to admit. so much so that he nearly misses her coming home. he only hears her sigh of effort when she’s already jumped onto her living room floor, and at that noise, bruce snaps his head towards her. true enough, she’s still in her spider-woman suit, and she’s pulled off her mask. she doesn’t gasp in shock or surprise at the sight of him there, or at the quick turn of his head, her spidey-sense having kicked in again and she sensed another presence in the flat before she even came in. but she furrows her eyebrows, and focuses more on bruce, thinking, for just a moment, that she might be hallucinating and that he’s not really there. but he is. and though his eyes are dark, bright tears shine in the corners of them.

“what are you doing here?” y/n asks and strides over to him, her mask in hand before she leaves it on the coffee table. she turns around and draws her curtains, then, wanting privacy from anyone who might be watching from now on. bruce watches her all the while, his breaths beginning to grow heavier.

“why were you out there alone?” bruce asks her finally, and y/n shakes her head at his voice. the brooding, intimidating growl of batman is in it. she turns back to face him. his eyes are looking right into hers, nearly boring holes into them, into her, as if wanted to do that.

y/n shakes her head again, “if you wanna talk, you’re gonna have to take off your mask.” she tells him quietly, fearing that it’s not her place to request something. that she’s undeserving even of such a little, but important thing. she doesn’t want to talk to batman, she wants to talk to bruce. with batman comes this great act, and so much more bravery than bruce has on the regular. she looks up at him from her hands. “it’s just you and me. and i don’t need batman now.”

infuriated and impatient, bruce pulls the cowl off so fast it makes a scratch in the side of his head, but he pays no attention to it, only making a small wince in reaction. y/n must say he looks like he usually does. and by usual, she means the black smear around his eyes that can’t hide the purplish bags under them, which are evidence of sleepless nights. no wonder. she didn’t see those on him while she was at the manor with him, because he slept through each night with her.

but the fury and threatening volcano eruption on his face takes her back a little. she hopes that anger isn’t towards her, but she knows that it probably is. she feels awkward, and embarrassed, and out of place. she sighs and walks over to her kitchen island, ten feet at best to bruce’s left. he watches her go and he unsnaps his cape, leaving it on the back of the sofa, and then he pushes his kevlar suit off himself one by one, trying to do it fast. y/n fixes herself something to drink from her fridge all the while, and she makes another full glass, in case bruce wants some, too.

if she doesn’t want batman now, that’s what he’ll give her. he walks over to her in the kitchen only after the batman parts of his suit are off, including the flattening jacket. he’s now dressed in a t-shirt, jeans and socks, feeling both out of place and exactly at home, dressed like that in her apartment. y/n watches him come up to her, that glass of a drink in her hand lifted up to her face, where the cold beverage is cooling her cheek. she looks at him with anxious, but tired eyes.

“why were you out there alone?” bruce asks her after he situates himself across her, his back leaning into the kitchen island as hers is leaned against her counter. y/n sighs.

“i wasn’t fighting alone,” she tells him quietly, “i was just swinging around, clearing my head. nothing more.” she sighs and looks into her glass. “not that you should know what i’m up to,” y/n shakes her head. bruce’s nostrils flare.

“i should know,” he argues.

“what, are you gonna ground me for fighting some low-lives on my own?” y/n’s upset towards bruce has quickly turned into anger. perhaps she’s pissed off by him, by all the things he chooses to be blind to when he’s not batman. bruce gives her eyes with such fire in them. but also defeat. he knows he can’t ground her, or tell her what to do and what not to do. it’s not his right, not his place, and not his choice to make, after all. she knows that, too, of course. “bruce, you can’t keep me away from the world.” she says, and has to admit that saying his name caused her heart a little pain.

he looks straight at her now, those fiery, defeated eyes now concentrated on something more precise. “is that what you thought i was doing?��� he asks her. “is that why you left? you thought i was keeping you locked in with me?”

y/n shakes her head as her eyes close. he really is blind to the things she thought he was. she has always been right about him, but he – nearly never about her. “no, i didn’t think that,” y/n tells him. then what? “and that’s not why i left.”

“then why did you?” bruce asks, and the volume his voice reaches frightens y/n, so much so that she looks at him with widened eyes. bruce sees them, and wants to apologise immediately, wants to take that back. “why did you leave? why didn’t you say anything? why didn’t you come meet me all these nights? i waited for you.” his eyes fill with tears again, those previous ones having dried beforehand already. bruce’s lip trembles. “why didn’t you just… tell me? how you felt, what was wrong?”

y/n is too impatient with bruce, with herself, with his questions. “because it’s hard to!” she says. “even despite my instinct, despite everything that we’ve gone through together, i still don’t know if i can open up to you like that!” she looks into his eyes again. it saddens her that there’s no ounce of understanding in them, only confusion. “i told you that it’s nothing you can change, but maybe it is now… i don’t know.”

“y/n, just tell me, please,” bruce says and takes those two steps closer to her, so he can cradle her cheeks in his hands and be closer to her. he sticks to her like a magnet, and she has the urge to wrap her hands around his form, too, and pull him close as possible. but she fights it, not wanting to let this conversation go to waste, “i…” bruce gulps, “i want you... to be with me. whether we’re working, or—or reading together, or listening to music, or whatever else—i just want you here with me.” or whatever else. bruce shakes his head, his forehead gently bumping against hers. tears have filled y/n’s eyes now, too. she can hear in his voice how much she’s hurt him, and it breaks her heart. she didn’t mean to. she never did. “this isn’t easy for me, either, i’ve never…” he sighs shortly, his head making a gentle shake, “i’ve never had anyone like you before in my life. and i don’t want to lose you.”

did he really just say that to her? y/n can hardly believe her ears. does he mean those words? he wouldn’t be saying them if he didn’t, to be fair. y/n squeezes her eyes shut to avoid crying, but her tears spill all the same. bruce feels the ragged breath she takes, he feels how it makes her whole form tremble under him. y/n wipes at her tears with her hand and sobs, “i’m sorry,” she tells him, “i didn’t want to hurt you.” she says in wails. “i just… couldn’t take it anymore. we’re too different, bruce. your world is so much more different than mine.” y/n says and wipes her tears again. she hates that she can’t talk about this without crying.

bruce takes it as in the sense that she’s gotten to gotham from a different world physically, but again, it’s evidence that things like that fly over his head so easily. “what do you mean?” he asks her and leans back a little, unconsciously giving her space. he even pulls his hands away from her, leaving her completely untouched for now. for however long she needs.

y/n is quiet for a while as she gathers herself. every word that she had planned to tell him at some point now seems to bring more and more sobs, pain and tears from her. it’s hard talking that way. “i mean… look at how you’re living,” she says. the mansion, the wealth, the family legacy, “all i ever had was a small basement flat in queens,” she tells him, and her voice grows squeaky in a wail towards the end, “my mother had to work… terrible, absolutely inhuman jobs to pay the rent, get us food. with no one to help us.” y/n sobs and hides her face in her hands from bruce. he doesn’t touch her, being able to tell that she really doesn’t need that right now. “only after… she died did i find out that i have an aunt. they weren’t on good terms, but she took me in immediately. even though she had no idea how to raise a kid.” y/n sighs, and shakes her head. “i can see… by the way you behave, how and where you live, that you don’t know what that’s like. you haven’t worked a day in your life. everything that you have has come easy to you.” she looks up into his eyes.

bruce can’t deny he feels upset by those words. never had to work a day in his life… but he doesn’t get the type of work y/n means. building tools, devices, suits and vehicles in the abandoned station named after your parents with all the money you have from thin air is work to him, but it’s not work in reality, is it? that’s just money spending, the complete opposite of work.

“i haven’t had a day since my eighteenth birthday in which i haven’t had to work, or fight for what’s important to me.” y/n tells him. she won’t go into detail about her mother and how she died, or about her best friend, who met the same fate. he doesn’t need to know that. it doesn’t really have anything to do with this conversation. “that’s where you and me are different. i don’t expect you to understand, but…” she shakes her head, “you asked, since you... clearly can’t understand what you don’t know, so here it is. that’s why i left.” she looks into his eyes again. “that’s why i have a complicated relationship with money.”

bruce nods, his eyes faltering away from hers. now that she’s told him about her childhood, or at least some part of it—it seems there’s more to tell—he gets why she was so cold. why she was so adamant on knowing why he bought her those things, why she had a hard time accepting them. he doesn’t understand the things she’s went through, the life she’s had, but at least he knows about them, and understands her more.

“and it’s none of your fault for how you grew up, for your father’s wealth,” y/n speaks up again, wanting bruce to be less confused about her feelings towards him in all this. bruce nods again, though biting back tears, “it’s just… i don’t think you and i have the same goals or—or beliefs.” she says and sniffles again. bruce furrows his eyebrows. “sure, we’re fighting all those guys at night, but during the day… you could be doing that and more. with everything you have.” she says in a fainter voice, cautious of his response. bruce wayne. prince of the city. gotham’s richest.

the suggestion in her words hits straight into his heart, as well as his pride. and his beliefs. bruce is silent as he thinks it all over, and y/n is afraid he’ll bolt out the door any second. he could do that, taking how he sometimes gets very unpredictable. but her instinct tells her otherwise, and so does bruce’s body language. gears are turning and pipes are hissing in his mind, it’s all so visible in his eyes.

she’s never had prospects like he has. she’s never had the money to change things in the world she sees as unjust. bruce can tell she’d do a lot if she had it, so maybe he should give her all the money he has? maybe follow up on that half-serious offer of hers and make her the head of wayne enterprises. she has much more spirit, much more will to act than he does. it hurts him that she’s seen it, but it doesn’t hurt that it’s the truth. perhaps he’s just been too afraid to acknowledge it.

so many questions are still begging to be asked, so many thoughts are running through his mind on repeat, one after the other. he leans off the island and comes closer to y/n again, slowly, cautiously, hoping to not intrude onto her space, scared she might swat him away, push him away. his hand caresses her hair as the other cups her cheek, she’s letting him. he looks into her eyes, which are blinking between his and those wandering, affectionate hands of his. “how did your mother die?” bruce asks so softly and quietly she could have missed it. y/n’s eyes showcase fear, and the urge to turn away, to get attention off herself, to escape his hold. then she blinks, hangs her head low and sighs softly.

“at work,” she tells him coldly, nearly paralysed in how exposed she currently is, “she was killed. because she wanted out.” y/n sniffles very strongly and looks down at her hands as she takes her gloves off. her lips press into a thin line. the loss of her mother still does numbers on her heart. bruce gulps. she’s saddening him more and more with every new thing she tells him.

“i’m sorry,” he tells her, the hand caressing her hair again, this time also moving in between her strands, cradling her head from behind. he only means well, and he only wants to be closer to her. y/n understands that, “were you there?” like i was when my mother and father got killed?

y/n shakes her head. “no,” she answers. she remembers that day very well, “i was at home. didn’t know until... cops showed up at the door.” y/n parker? we think we’ve found your mother. “nearly didn’t open it because mom told me not to open the door unless it’s her, and she had a certain way of knocking.” y/n’s lips make a very faint smile as she says this. bruce smiles a little, too, seeing that y/n remembers a fond memory of her mother. but she still doesn’t look at him, for whatever reason.

“is she the reason you do this?” he asks quietly again. y/n looks up at him at once, her eyes fearful of how well he’s turned out to know her. she appreciates it. that he may not be able to understand her, but he knows her. he knows her so well, he knows her by heart. bruce’s thumb flicks over cheek, where tears previously poured down. new ones gather in her eyes, and during her silence, they fall and coat the skin of her cheeks again, pouring beneath and onto bruce’s finger as well.

she’s overwhelmed. his hand on her cheek reminds her so much of their shenanigans in his car that day. and the hand on the back of her head reminds her of all those times they kissed, and she’s thinking of the manor again, she’s thinking of all that time they spent together. it reminds her of the care and affection that he’s shown her. and she can’t turn away from it. she’s done hurting him. she wants him, too. every day and every night. perhaps, after all, the crime-fighting isn’t her drug. but bruce is.

y/n gives him a nod as well as a shrug in response, because she is the reason y/n does this, but not the whole reason. there’s so many more. so for now, she gives him this kind of answer, though she’s sure he got the confirmation from her falling tears. bruce breathes a deep breath in and nods at her, too, saying that he gets it. he understands. part of every hero is that they’re avenging someone in everything that they do. whether it’s their parents, one of their parents, another close relative, maybe a friend or a lover. someone important to them who they lost. “did you get what you wanted?” y/n asks in a whisper, hoping that she has somewhat explained herself to bruce.

he searches her eyes for a few moments, confused. is this everything that she wanted to say? is she telling him that there’s nothing more to say or do anymore, and that they’re done? he hopes not. “i just wanted you,” he tells her in an assuring manner, his thumb flicking over her lip again, “i still do. always will.” bruce makes a gentle shake of his head. “please don’t make me leave,” bruce pleads quietly, thinking that could be the worst-case scenario.

y/n shuts her eyes as more tears pour from them and shakes her head. “i don’t want to do that,” she says, still shaking her head. she’s stripped herself down completely in front of him now, no going back.

“then don’t,” bruce says and now rests his forehead against hers, eyes closed. he sighs deeply as he feels himself closer and closer to her.

“but it will be difficult,” she tells him, still trying to push him away against all her best interests, “i’m scared, bruce.” she admits and sobs in desperation again, nearly gasping and grasping at him to not leave. her hands don’t know where to go, don’t know what to do to make him stay. will her small arms be enough for a man his size? enough to keep him in place? first of all, she can’t believe he’s here. he cares enough that he showed up at her flat. bruce opens his eyes.

“i’m scared, too,” he tells her. he has never had these feelings before, and he’s never had a relationship before. he doesn’t exactly know how they work, or what he has to do. he could hurt her, he could get her hurt again, and worse, he could be too demanding, he could not change himself for her... it all scares him. but, “because i love you.” bruce admits, and it makes y/n’s eyes open wide in an instant. “and i’m scared of what that means.”

“you love me?” y/n repeats in a hushed whisper, afraid to say those words out loud for maybe she accidentally dreamed him saying them. but bruce nods, extinguishing those doubts of hers. “are you sure?” she asks.

the question makes bruce utter a quiet chuckle, his lips stretching so beautifully into a smile. y/n finally reaches a hand out to his face, and caresses his cheek in return, making him look back at her. “i’m sure,” bruce assures her, “more sure than i’ve ever been of anything else.” he states. “i love you.” bruce says again, his fingers caressing her skin. “you mean everything to me.” he confesses in a whisper.

now y/n really can’t keep the dam closed anymore. her tears fall without a halt, without filter, they pour from her eyes, across her cheeks, down to her neck, into her mouth, and quiet sobs of relief rupture her lungs and chest. they’re happy tears, relief tears, even though they seem the completely different kind. bruce watches her, confused, and his movements on her skin in those two places halts. but y/n scoops herself up together and looks at him again. “don’t worry,” she says, “i’m only crying because i...” she hiccups in her confession, “because i love you, too.” y/n says and makes a smile on her face for show. and so that bruce would know that it’s real, what she’s telling him.

bruce’s heart stops at that confession, breath catching in his throat. all this time there were hints towards it being true, but he never wanted to assume she did. and, as his low self-esteem and self-worth usually told him, he thought she didn’t love him like that back. she couldn’t. but here she is, proving all that paranoia wrong. so he doesn’t waste a second more and kisses her lips. he hasn’t done that in so long, in nearly two weeks (not that he’s counted, of course), and it’s such blissful release that he can’t contain his own tears anymore.

y/n kisses him back, and so their lips battle in the will to show each other how much love they have for them. both of them want to win, but the process, the journey, is so much better than the victory. lips exchanging heated, wet, tearful kisses while hands grapple fabric and skin, wanting to be closer, closer, closer, until there’s no space and they succumb to each other, their skin and bones melting together.

bruce’s hands bravely venture down to her hips, where he caresses and grips them, pushing moans out of y/n here and there with his actions. she tugs on his hair when that happens, and that makes him groan in return. but that counter against her back is very uncomfortable. “this is not the place,” y/n whispers to bruce against his lips, and it halts his movements. she takes his hands in her own and pulls him away, out of the kitchen, and towards her bedroom, down the hall.

he can’t keep his hands or lips off her even while they walk, he’s kissing her neck, backing her against the nearest walls from time to time, just wanting to stay there. he doesn’t care where they are, as long as he can have her, he’ll be happy, and he’ll make her see stars to the best of his abilities, anyway. he’s scared, of course, for her to see this side of him, thinking maybe he’ll not be competent enough, he won’t do good enough for her. but she’s about to prove him wrong.

she laughs at bruce’s impatience and manages to stumble him over to her bedroom at last. she loves him kissing her neck and showing her that kind of affections, of course, she lets him know by the moans and whimpers she makes, but she doesn’t want to have her first time with him in her hallway. having it in her bedroom is important to her, even though she doesn’t really know why.

once they’ve stumbled into her bed, bruce finds the zipper in her suit and zips it open as quickly as he can, though he does it very messily. y/n is smiling, tears still in her eyes, and kissing his lips all the while, as he peels the suit off her, and she kicks it off with her legs at the very end just so that bruce wouldn’t have to disconnect from her. he smiles at that, knowing her intentions, and pulls his own shirt off his form, too. y/n has seen him bare before, but now she feels she’s got the full privilege and right to admire his chest fully. her hands reach out to run across it, bruce on his knees now before her, between her legs. her fingers trace over his muscles and she marvels at how there are no serious scars on his chest, unlike his back.

he just watches her eyes, and then they look up at his. a mischievous smile tugs at her lips, and she bites into her lower one. bruce shakes his head at her, though a grin adores his lips, as well, and he leans down to her again, smothering her whole face with kisses. “i love you,” he proclaims to her again, “you drive me crazy.” he says and y/n chuckles at that confession. bruce plays with the straps of her bra, and he gives her a look. “can i take this off?” he asks her, wanting to make sure she’s ready. so far, this is the barest he’s seen her. and he just wants her to be comfortable. if it’s better for her, she can leave the bra on.

y/n nods at him in response, and reaches under herself to unclasp the bra. bruce wanted to do that, but she sends him a knowing wink, knowing in the sense that she knows he wouldn’t be able to take it off on his own without a struggle. so since they’re both in a rush, and are naturally impatient people, she does half the job for him. and so bruce just hooks his fingers under each strap and lifts her bra off along her arms, and throws it to the side, not exactly caring where it lands.

his breath gets caught in his throat again, this time at the sight of her. her hair, her naked chest, her arms barely, shyly knitted together above her stomach, her shy smile and the tears still glistening in her eyes. she’s an angel. “you’re beautiful,” bruce tells her, “baby.” he adds, remembering that she seemed to have some sort of reaction to that nickname before, and he could try it out now again. this time y/n utters a whimper at that pet-name, her teeth biting into her lower lip again, and her thighs move around a little. bruce grins slightly and positions himself right above her body again, his chin resting just below her breasts. “do you like it when i call you baby?” he asks her, and kneads one of her breasts in his hand.

y/n sighs out as her eyes drop closed, and she sighs, already squirming beneath him. “yes,” she answers, and bruce feels her thighs pressing closer around his body, “does things to me.” she admits, and then feels bruce’s lips on her breast, just kissing for now. but then he lays a wetter kiss on the skin there, and he sucks lightly, too, and y/n feels like just melting into her mattress. the moan she makes goes straight to bruce’s firmly growing length in his pants, making him feel even more impatient. he increases his grip on her other breast, and makes a trail of kisses up to her face again, all the while hearing her sweet moans and whimpers for him.

“was that okay?” bruce asks her quietly, worried about his performance again, and to his soothing, y/n replies with a nod.

“i know you’re nervous, but you don’t need to be,” she tells him as her lustful eyes look into his and she caresses his cheek with her hand again, “it’s my first time, too.” she assures, her smile suddenly looking a little broken, along with her tears it makes for a sad facial expression. but those few words mean a lot to bruce. she’s just as inexperienced as him, and it puts him at some sort of peace at least. and how she was able to tell he’s that way also hits a close spot in his heart. now they’ll be doing something together for the first time, both of them, and it is ever so special.

“you tell me if i hurt you, alright?” bruce requests. y/n’s eyes fill with more tears at how considerate and affectionate bruce is. she still can’t believe it, after all this time, and yet here is the proof, staring her right in the eyes, touching her the way she likes, making sure that everything’s fine. but she shakes her head at his question.

“you could never hurt me,” she says in a scrappy voice that showcases her choked-back tears and sobs, and bruce only hopes it’s for a positive reason she’s almost crying again for. y/n pulls his face down to hers and kisses his lips. hungrily, lustfully, intimately, closing her eyes. bruce does the same, his hands coming lower to hold her waist, “can you touch me?” y/n quietly asks him, looking into his eyes, “please.”

you could never hurt me echoes in bruce’s mind, and he recalls that incident in the car, to which she undoubtedly is referring to without really referring to (but he can read her mind, can’t he?), and he nods surely. “i was going to, anyway.” bruce says with a wink sent her way, and that makes y/n giggle. bruce runs his hand from her breast down to the dip between her thigh and stomach, and he rounds the flesh of her thigh in his hand. y/n sighs out against his smiling lips, her thighs restlessly rubbing against his sides, yearning for friction, for some real touch. not that this isn’t great, she’s just growing more and more desperate and turned on by the second, by everything bruce does, by every move he makes across her skin.

bruce toys with her thigh, with the feel of her skin in his hold—it’s heavenly—pushing her thigh forwards, gripping the junction under her knee, caressing her upper thigh with his large, splayed hand. y/n’s breath catches in her throat—she can’t believe how gentle he is with her. of course, she adores it, and wants nothing more or less than these cautious touches, because she knows he will get to it when he will. she guesses she just always expected his batman persona to come out during these intimate settings—she once speculated that he’s quite the ladies’ man, and probably is in his vigilante mood when he gets down to it. this, she might say, is a pleasant surprise.

although she’s never been with anyone before, y/n knows what she wants in a partner, and she knows what she likes. and so far, bruce has checked a few boxes already, slowly checking the rest on his way now. and that again arises tears in her eyes. how careful, affectionate and attentive he is to her, to her needs, her level and zone of comfort. she’s never known love like this before, and it’s breaking her down. perhaps because it’s all she’s dreamed of those times when she’s wished for a partner. someone exactly like bruce. who knew she’d find them in an alternate universe where her home city doesn’t even exist?

she bends under his hands so easily bruce might have mistaken a doll for her, the way she completely melts against him in whatever he’s planned to do. how she willingly lets him push her thigh forwards more, how she cranes her neck when he leans down to kiss along it, how she shivers, but then bucks into his hand once he finally cups her pulsating cunt through her underwear. it makes her body do a whole reset almost—her eyelids fluttering closed and her thighs rubbing closer together, nearly capturing bruce’s arm between them. bruce grins at that and lays a kiss on y/n’s lips again, though they barely respond as she’s in a blissful state.

he can feel her wet warmth that has stained her very fitting underwear, and it drives him even crazier, even sort-of hungrier after her. bruce strokes his fingers up that patch of wetness and reaches nearly the same ecstasy as she is in. he can feel every inch of her pressing together under that fabric, in that wetness. “fuck,” he curses under his breath, resting his head in the crook of her neck, putty against her incredible might, “this all because of me?” he asks, and can hear her breaths growing heavier. he feels her chest moving more frequently, and harder against his. he’s gained confidence again, sureness of himself, because of her reactions. she’s doing wonders to him.

y/n can only nod, and it’s all the confirmation bruce needs to slip his hands into her panties and touch her without any confines or otherwise constricting factors. the real thing. he doesn’t know precisely what to do, he’s not seen a proper tutorial that would work for y/n exactly, but he can tell he’s doing the right things. both the louder and quieter noises that come from her lips, very much positive ones, tell him he’s doing a great job. y/n can’t manage to form coherent words, anyway, because bruce, bruce, bruce has taken over her mind completely.

bruce cards his fingers through her silky folds, gathering her wetness and spreading it across this most intimate area of her body, and he does so in slightly circular motions. y/n’s hands caress his body, one of them deep in his dark hair, the other on his back, digging her nails into the thick, scarred skin there. was she any more conscious of herself and bruce, she’d worry about scratching the scars open. but she can’t think further than the man’s fingers, further than his fingers on her cunt, she’s completely consumed by him.

bruce watches her face as best he can in the midst of his own arousal, and he just adores the look of her. eyes shut, fluttering open here and there, eyebrows scrunching up, lips parting, and little beads of sweat beginning to coat the skin closest to her hairline. not to mention the tears at the corners of her eyes, and the ones falling and already fallen down the side of her face. he knows they’re not ones of sadness, not anymore.

but, wanting to see what he’s doing, bruce moves slowly down her body while his fingers are still treading soft circled touches on her folds. he kisses every inch of her skin in his way, making her body spasm very gently here and there. she’s so reactive to every move he makes on her, it’s the most wonderful thing in the world. one of her hands pulls away from his back as he moves lower, no longer that much accessible to her, and the other starts to pull away from his head of hair.

when bruce is down exactly where he wants to be (a/n: that would be down bad for y/n), his face inches away from the most intimate part of her body, he looks up at her. her hands, not knowing where exactly to be or what to do, figure around the sheets, in her own hair. her chest heaves in desperation, in that insufferable yearning for ecstasy, for release. for him. “give me your hands,” bruce gently asks of her, extending his one free hand, for now, towards her. y/n does as she’s told, a little lost on what he’s planning, but moves her hands down towards bruce.

with his able one hand, the busy one still circling her lips, he holds both her wrists between his fingers and pulls them towards his hair, where he so adores them being. he knows she loves touching his hair, too, she wouldn’t do it otherwise. or does she know he likes it and only does it because of that? that’s a question for later. her fingers land in his hair, nearly at the roots now, caressing the scalp, and they fit so well, as if a magnet was pulling her hands towards his raven locks. bruce grins and gets to work.

“keep them there,” he tells her softly, the command in his words not sounding like a command at all, but rather like a gentle request, “wanna see you.” bruce fingers the elastic of her panties, playing with it for just a second or two before he begins pulling her underwear down with both his hands. y/n whines at the loss of his fingers from her cunt, but something tells her this isn’t the last of those touches. once her underwear is down her legs and off, bruce looks at the sight exposed to him. my... this glistening beauty all for him. he nearly feels his stomach grumble at the sight, he feels hunger for her, one that he’s never felt before.

he playfully, in his quest to explore her, runs his middle and index finger down between her folds again, and feels her writhing underneath. her warmth, her wetness, her beauty are unmatched. and they’re all for him to witness, to feel, to experience, to taste. can he do that? bruce’s eyes flick up to y/n, even though he knows damn well she’s not able to look him in the eye. “y/n,” he calls to her quietly, gently, and she stirs, with her eyes closed, on the sheets, “look at me.” bruce requests. and even in her haze, she’s able to finally open her eyes and look straight at him, though her orbs are consumed by a layer of lust. “can i taste you?” bruce asks.

that question makes y/n want to kick against the mattress like a spoiled child. but she keeps her composure, and only her chest ruptures and her thighs tremble in response. she tries to keep her eyes on bruce’s, but it’s so hard. her thighs rub closer together again, desperate, desperate, desperate. those must be the most enticing words she’s heard him say ever. and she gives him a nod. of course, who is she to say no to him? he’s made her feel closer to heaven than any meal or feeling before, she won’t deny him or herself this pleasure.

bruce just needs to devour every inch of her, needs to feel her against every inch of himself, and he has the blessing from her to do so. so he gets to work. at first he gently breathes onto her exposed cunt, which already makes her sigh out sharply, and then lays just a kiss on the same spot. it makes her utter an even more helpless whimper, her chest heaving more frequently for those few moments. oh, she’s so not ready for his blissful assault on her.

he returns his hand to her folds and runs the two fingers through them, teasing at her entrance for just a second or two. and his mouth moves lower, towards where his fingers are, his tongue stroking between her labia lips. y/n gasps, “bruce,” she moans out his name. bruce makes a hum in response, eyeing her with eyes that ask is this good? am i good? but, of course, with her eyes closed again, she doesn’t see them. if she would, she’d only give him a positive answer as this is quite literally the best she’s ever been made to feel in her entire life.

bruce would be a liar if he said this doesn’t bring him any pleasure, either. he’s keeping himself from moaning and grunting as much as he wants to only because he’s so focused on making her feel good. with every lap at her cunt that he makes, he yearns for more. she tastes sweet, like sugar water, like his favourite alcohol. she also tastes like his dreams, like all his hopes and plans, like everything he’s ever wished for. with every inch of her that he tastes, licks, kisses, laps at, he realises he could spend forever there, between her legs, just pleasuring her, making her come over and over again.

his fingers press onto her clit while his tongue drags across it, and it makes y/n arch her back off the sheets all while moaning his name in a high pitch, hurting her throat just a bit as it’s an unusually high note she’s reached. but as she moans his name, it comes out distorted and broken up. much like herself. “gonna put my fingers inside you, okay?” bruce asks y/n, out of breath, and looking up at her. she doesn’t see him, only hears him, and she nods.

“yes, please,” she responds with a plea, as well, only firming the erection beneath bruce’s trousers. so he circles his middle finger around her tight hole, which grows just a little bigger at the request, and, to take away any possible discomfort that she might feel at the penetrating intrusion, bruce pushes his middle finger inside her entrance with his tongue. now that makes her actually scream out, and she’s not afraid to hide it.

the noise rises goose-bumps across bruce’s skin, and he hums in appreciation against her, his lips flush against her cunt. pushing further into her, seeing how far she takes him, bruce admires every crevice, every structured inch of her inside that he can feel on his pad, against his thin skin. she’s so tight that her walls are swallowing his finger up, and it feels indescribable. he forgets himself for a moment, his lips just resting against her labia lips for now as he wonders about how it would feel with his length inside her. if this feels this great, then how will that feel? will she even be able to take him?

perhaps he needs to stretch her out, so he does his best. “gonna put another into you, baby,” bruce tells her as he sort-of gets back to earth and kisses the inside of her thigh now, trying to put some ease into her—although knowing that he’s doing the exact opposite of it with anything that he does—, “can you take another one?” bruce looks up to her again, but it’s, again, a lost cause.

but y/n hears him. “yes. yes, i think so,” she says in a whiney voice, her eyes squeezed shut, forehead and chest sweating, hands raking unevenly across bruce’s scalp—she’s a complete mess, “just do it.” i don’t care if i can’t take it. “i just need you, please.” she nearly cries at that last bit, being so close to that edge all afternoon, it seems, and bruce understands. she’s so desperate for him, and he’s sure it’s gonna kill him eventually. if not now, if not tonight, then soon.

so he pushes his index finger into her, moving it inside along the middle one, feeling her walls swallowing them both up now. bruce shudders, moaning at how incredible that feels, and licks against her clit again. he’s sure nothing can feel better than this. and y/n has that same thought. her mind is racing, as well as her heart, and her chest is heaving like it never has before, not even on the times she’s had the most intense fights. bruce’s fingers are long, she’s known that, having known how large his hands are over-all, but oh my... she never expected them to hit that deep, and on the first entrance. god, is she hallucinating? is this happening? it’s too real, too good, too incredible, to be true.

“oh, my god,” y/n squeaks out among her gasps for air. her body writhes under bruce, around his fingers, her hips are bucking rhythmically, almost as fast as to bother bruce in his incredibly important work. he lays his other hand on her lower stomach and presses down gently.

“stay still, sweetheart,” he asks of her. and even those few words, especially that pet-name, make her whine. but when he strokes her walls with his long, aiming-to-please fingers, it reaches her in such a way that makes her actually cry out, and hot tears prick her eyes once more. only this time, much heavier, much harder to resist. so she doesn’t. she lets them fall, and lets sobs torture her lungs and her whole torso with their intensity. the heels of her feet dig into her bedsheets and she tightens the hold of her hands on bruce’s hair. she can’t take this, she can barely take it.

and he makes her torture all the more intense, with his lips and tongue on her folds, intruding between them, and his fingers raking across her walls, pulling the very pads of them against her meaty surface, curling them when he gets to the deepest point in her that he can reach. she’s crying, tears streaming down her face, sobs hurting her throat, as she has never been made to feel this good, and she has never been made to feel loved like this. she has never had someone to love her, care for her, attend to her this way. she can’t fathom or take everything that she’s feeling right now, it’s driving her over the edge. “oh, my god... bruce,” she cries his name as the feeling gets way too over-whelming.

she feels like she could burst open, physically, any second now. she’s blind about what’s about to quite literally come over her, and she has no choice but to feel it, let it take control, let it do what it has to. bruce’s tongue tight on her clit, his fingers nearly scratching at her walls, she feels that terribly foreign feeling—she’d rather call it entity—fully wash over her. finally. and she realises it’s what she was waiting, pleading, begging, yearning for. this exact feeling.

her legs go numb, and she feels an over-whelming wave in the pit of her stomach, where she’s felt herself yearn for bruce, for ecstasy, many times before. now she understands. now she knows what it’s like, but she has barely time to think on it now. she can’t think at all, her arms even go limp in bruce’s hair, only having pulled at it quite hard at the very beginning of this other-wordly feeling. her eyes screwed shut, lips parted and mouth open as she cries, screams and begs, all calling to bruce.

he only makes his actions gentler on her once he realises what she’s going through, what her body’s experiencing. and his heart pulses in his chest as he watches her reach that heavenly pleasure point. his length throbs in his trousers at how she looks as she’s going through it. god, absolutely divine. unlike anything he’s ever seen before. her face when she laughs, smiles or is working on something—his wounds, for example—is breath-taking, of course. but this... bruce is sure nothing compares to this. and he can’t believe he’s rightful to see it with his own two mortal eyes.

when y/n’s screams and cries of his name die down a little in volume and intensity, and now nothing but pants are leaving her lips, bruce pulls slightly away from her. to his pleasant surprise, he finds the breath-taking sight of her dripping a white nectar from her entrance. he needs no explanation for what that is, in that sense he’s knowledgeable enough, and he grows even harder at the sight, if that’s even possible at this point. he’s so hard right now that it’s painful for him.

bruce spreads her thighs a little, as they pressed slightly closer together after she came, and caresses his thumb over her dripping entrance. she whimpers helplessly at that caress, feeling more sensitive than ever. bruce only glances at her fleetingly, his eyes trained on that come dripping out of her. fuck. this is just incomprehensible for him. it looks just like sugar cream, and he knows it tastes similar, too. he can’t resist. bruce leans closer again and licks some of it up, as much as he can get from only very slightly entering his tongue in her. and this time, her whimper is even more desperate, more pleading. almost to say i can’t anymore, because she feels so sensitive, as if it was an open wound.

and she does taste like sugar cream, sweeter than before. bruce moans like a man having his eternal hunger fed, and licks her come up just one more time for his own pleasure before he pulls away and gives her a break from his very euphoric assaults on her. bruce licks his lips clean, wanting to savour every bit of her that he gathered, and he looks down at her. god, she’s so beautiful, he can’t believe it. and she looks absolutely heavenly after an event like this. he could make her come over and over again, if it means he’d see her this true, this beautiful, every time. and he’s sure he would.

her hands have fallen by her sides, and she’s only now returning to complete consciousness. she blinks her eyes open and finds bruce staring down at her. there’s a smile on his face that almost makes her laugh. he just made her have the first and, she thinks, hardest orgasm of her life, and he’s looking down at her, smiling like a happy idiot. the most she can do is make a smile herself at him, a very gentle and faint one, and bruce’s smile only stretches bigger at that.

he leans down to her, one of his hands wrapping around her wrist, pushing it into the mattress beside her head. he kisses her lips, plump and warm, and he can feel that she’s reacting to everything a little slower now, truly blown away by him, and the feelings he makes her have. he feels proud and confident of himself, and he smiles into their kiss. his other hand rests at the curve of her waist, just above her hip, and y/n’s arms weakly wrap around bruce’s torso. for support, for something to hold onto.

“can i, uh...” bruce begins a question he’s too shy to finish in a whisper, his smiling lips dragging across the tear-wetted skin of y/n’s face as he does so, and y/n closes her eyes as her grin grows wider. more tears fall. she already knows what he wants to ask, but she’ll let him finish that sentence. if he can, of course. come on, baby, where’s your confidence? “can you—i mean, do you want to—”

but, again, y/n is an impatient person at heart. she nods her head without letting bruce finish, because the answer is yes, will always be yes, “yes,” she tells him, and because... “now, because i’m not sure i’ll be alive later,” she tells him honestly, which makes bruce laugh. and, in return, it makes her laugh, too, through her tears. her laughter’s interrupted by her soft sobs. his rare, miraculous laugh is infectious, even during such intimate moments. but perhaps it’s best for those kind of times, because it’s a way to break the tension and the pressure between them. he rests his forehead against hers and his eyes grow serious for a moment.

“are you sure about this?” he asks her in an even quieter whisper, suddenly realising how much this could (does) mean to her. and y/n looks into his in-love, half-lidded eyes.

“i am,” she assures him as she nods. one of her hands circle up to his neck, fingers curling around the nape, towards the roots of his hair, “i love you. and i want this,” y/n tells bruce, looking into his eyes for more signs of understanding. he’s nervous, she knows that, and so is she. but somehow—perhaps from the literally mind-blowing orgasm he’s already given her—perhaps with his presence, his comforting, loving presence, she feels a little less nervous about doing this. and about what this could mean between them. though nothing more than their love and desire for one another.

bruce gives her a nod then. okay, then, this is it. here it goes, he tells himself. “i love you, too,” he whispers to her in response, his eyelids fluttering again. not because he’d be lying, but because he’s nervous and shaky and over-whelmed, and feeling quite emotional. he wants to remind her to tell him if he hurts her, but since she surely told him that he could never hurt her, and she should believe it, he doesn’t. and so, with a nervous hand, y/n slips his trousers and boxers downwards, which gives bruce the freedom to free his embarrassingly—to him—large, stiff erection from its confines.

y/n gasps quietly at the look of him, at the size of him, and bruce immediately looks to her, his eyes nervously asking what’s wrong. “nothing,” she assures, “just... i hope you’ll fit.” she tells him with a gentle chuckle, and bruce grins out of relief, his dark locks falling onto her face as he hangs his head low. “you’re so big, bruce,” y/n praises to him in a whisper, and the compliment makes him shudder against her. how he hoped that would be the truth. not that y/n has anything to compare bruce to—for her completely inexperienced mind and sense of measurements, bruce is big. certainly bigger than she anticipated.

“shut up,” he tells her in an airy chuckle, which makes y/n chuckle. she knows what praise does to him. makes him feel weird, undeserving, awkward, on the spot. weird for a man of his size to doubt himself, but he does it nonetheless. always insecure, always feeling that he’s not enough. but he is. and he’d always be enough for y/n, no matter any of his measurements.

she caresses his chest with one of her hands and spreads her legs a little again, so that it’d be more comfortable for him. bruce adores the sight. “come on,” she whispers to him, pulling his face closer to hers by the back of his neck, and bruce gets the message, leaning his forehead against hers again as he watches himself, to not make a mistake, slowly push into her half-inch by half-inch, always attentively listening to every sound she makes to know if something’s wrong.

that hand of his holding her wrist against the bed sheets slips upwards to link her fingers with his own, and he feels her tightly pressing her fingers into his hand as soon as he does that. bruce feels her tense up beneath him, sees her eyes squeezing shut, as well as her mouth, and he hears a little whimper from her. he instantly worries. “do we need to stop?” he asks her in a whisper, looking at her face of discomfort. she almost seems to be holding her breath. “baby,” bruce calls to her.

y/n shakes her head, and as soon as she opens her eyes, bruce sees new tears in them. “no, no,” she tells him, “i’m okay.” she assures and looks up into bruce’s beautiful, concerned orbs. “remember what i told you,” y/n reminds him, and her hand slips from his neck to his cheek, a comforting gesture of convincing, “you could never hurt me.” she assures, and her voice breaks a little. her lip trembles, but she nods at bruce, muscles around her eyes also trembling, threatening for another session of crying. bruce isn’t sure of what to do, because he’s not sure that y/n’s crying is entirely for the best reasons. but she wouldn’t lie to him, would she? “it’s alright, bruce,” y/n tries to convince him more. she knows it’s painful for girls during their first time, always, “you’re not hurting me anymore.” she searches his eyes. “it passed.” she sniffles. “keep going.”

he’s convinced, he decides, because she really wouldn’t lie to him. he knows that. especially about how she’s feeling. she’s always honest about it, always truthful and raw to him. he grips that hand of hers more and pushes himself further inside her, to the very hilt, for now. and what he gets in return is most rewarding. not only her sensitive, clenching walls around him, and their warmth, but also a moan from y/n that he recognises to be one of pleasure. and bruce exhales deeply, resting his head in the crook of her neck as he tries to adjust to everything. because god, he’s so painfully hard, and he’s finally inside her, and it’s enough to make him come on the spot.

it comes as a surprise to y/n how little it hurt, because now she just feels the good side of this. god, this is the closest she’s been with him. closest they’ve been with each other, and the moment she’s had daydreams and night-time dreams about has finally come. and it’s so much better than she imagined, so much more fulfilling and connecting. speaking from her subjective point of view in this moment, she can say that she couldn’t imagine having her first time with anyone else. she loves bruce, and she’s thankful that he lets her be with him when he’s this exposed, this vulnerable, this naked in every sense of the word.

speaking of bruce, he’s nearly fainted above her. she brings her thumb across his cheek, and that motion makes him turn to look at her. at least he’s conscious, she thinks. “what is it?” bruce asks her, clearly oblivious to her gestures. she smiles wide, and tears pour from the corners of her eyes.

“nothing,” she says in the quietest of whispers, “just thought you’d died there for a moment.” she jokes, and bruce grins at her amused mood.

“think i did,” he says and gets above her body again, feeling confidence and strength returning to him, “you want to keep going?” bruce asks in the most affectionate of ways, and then moves his head so that his hair would flip out of his view. it’s bothering his vision, he can’t see her properly. y/n nods at his question and caresses his chest again. she looks straight into his eyes and bruce takes that as a sign to begin moving.

it’s painfully pleasuring for the both of them that movement of bruce pulling out in a slow stroke, y/n whimpers and the grip on bruce with both her hands tightens incredulously. bruce sees his length coated in y/n’s white come from beforehand, and that makes him groan.

“god, you drive me insane,” he tells y/n and then looks back at her, wanting to see only her face as he pushes back in. this time, contrasting to the very first time, her throat makes a deep, guttural moan, and the feeling of him pushing back inside her has her throwing her head back, “you feel perfect around me.” bruce praises her and y/n smiles in her blissed-out state. her arm returns to wrapping around his back, his thick, wide, muscular back, and she pulls him down enough to be able to whisper into his ear.

“you can go faster,” she says, tending to what her body requests, “please.” she adds, knowing that always does something to him. and quick enough, once bruce is comfortable with himself and how fast he’s moving, it’s nearly a race of how fast he can go. a race with himself. his body rhythmically moving above hers, his girth feeling every inch of pulsating, inviting walls clenching around him, y/n holds onto him with the hand on his back, gripping onto it out of how good he makes her feel, nearly digging her nails into his skin.

and the hand that is intertwined with bruce’s just next to her head. an affectionate connection between them, gentler than the speed and care with which bruce thrusts into y/n. sweat is collecting in thick beads on her forehead again, and on bruce’s, too. this is some exercise, he discovers, an exercise that can move an entire bed and make it squeak against the floor. their panted breaths on each other mix with the sounds of their skins meeting harshly together at their hips, where the most intimate of their connections is unravelling at a quick pace. somehow, at this moment, y/n thanks every twist and turn in her life that led her to this moment. she loves him more than she can fathom. and she sheds tears again, but really ones of the best kind this time.

“right there,” y/n whines as she feels bruce just reaching the sweetest spot inside her. the anticipation of him reaching it—because she knows he can—is like a fever in her body. bruce grapples the back of her thigh with his flat, large palm once again, and pushes her knee forwards, slightly to the side, so he could reach that spot she’s begging him to. and he does, “fuck, yes! right there, baby,” she cries out and pulls bruce’s face once again down to hers, where she harshly swallows up his lower lip.

his pet-name for her being used on him by her does quite a number on him, and he’s sure he’ll really come any next second. and because he aims to please her, the confirmation that he’s succeeded does another number on him and his close-approaching orgasm. bruce deepens their kiss, running his tongue along hers and on the inside of her lip, which makes y/n whine for him in an even higher pitch. “i won’t last much longer,” bruce tells her, his lips grazing hers faintly as he speaks in close proximity to her still. he’s afraid his confession will disrupt this event, afraid she’ll find it weird.

but she puts his worries at rest by saying, “me neither,” and giving bruce a grin. he shakes his head at that expression, wearing the smile of an idiot in love on his own lips, “give me your hand.” she requests, and bruce immediately obeys. to do that means losing his support system that helps him not crush her body with his, but he does his best to still lean above it, now closer to it than before, so close that her breasts are pressed against his chest, and he continues with his almost unnaturally fast rhythm of thrusts inside her.

once y/n has bruce’s hand at her disposal, she moves it towards her face with her free hand, that was just now around bruce’s back. now it’s holding his wrist—and bruce watches the whole thing—and moving his sweat and come coated fingers up to her mouth, where she lets the pad of his thumb meet with her lower lip at first, just gently running it from one corner to the other. bruce has got the guidance, he’s realised the message, and doesn’t need any more instructions. so what he simply tried, explored into, that day in the vehicle, was arousing for her, too. he grins, and y/n returns her hand to gripping his back, knowing that he’s read her mind now.

bruce pushes his thumb deeper into her mouth, and he feels her tongue swirling the pad of it already. he shudders, his eyes half-closing, at how it feels in combination with everything else. she’s a vixen. a siren. a witch, but an angel. he could get lost in her for the rest of his days. bruce leans down to kiss her lips while his thumb is still in the corner of her mouth, and y/n moans bestially into that kiss. bruce pulls away with a grin and pushes his thumb in and out between her lips, much like his cock is doing in and out of her cunt. fuck, he just loves this. he feels sick, twisted, although it’s nothing wrong, but he can’t help it. “you like my finger in your mouth, huh?” bruce asks her in a discovery-sort-of-voice with a cocky grin and an over-all cocky expression on his face. y/n wiggles her eyebrows and sends the man a wink, panting through her nose now as her mouth’s a little occupied with his finger.

“i love it,” she tells him, and bruce moans again, “give me more.” she requests. who is bruce to say no to that? he slowly pulls his thumb out of her mouth, but y/n doesn’t let it leave without releasing it with a slick pop noise first.

“you’re perfect,” bruce says, all kinds of fantasies running into his mind at that image, and he really feels himself just at the edge now. his thrusts get sloppier, and y/n feels it. she smiles wide at him before bruce slides his index and middle finger in between her smiling lips, and she sucks on them as well as she knows how to. bruce’s head falling to rest besides hers, his hand gripping y/n’s on the sheets, and his thrusts stalling as he pants heavily and chants her name is a give-away that he’s finally reached that euphoric point. had he any more sense inside himself at that moment, he would have felt bad for not letting y/n finish first.

but she’s coming up and along just behind him, her nails making new scars on his back with how hard they’re scratching him. her body writhes beneath his, once again she feels like a spoiled child, and she moans his name in the most beautiful of manners around those stalled fingers of his in her mouth. y/n can feel bruce emptying himself inside of her, it quite literally fills her up, and he can only groan in the complete ecstasy that is her coating his length in her nectar. after a few moments of them regaining their breaths and consciousness, y/n feels him weakly pulling out of her, robbing her of that fuller feeling, but it’s only to see what it looks like. his come inside of her, mixing with her own, leaking out.

bruce’s forehead against hers, he watches the small-scaled scene unravel before his mortal eyes, and it makes his heaved breaths turn into whines again. “fuck, look at you,” bruce muses, taking his hands away from y/n’s lips and hand and instead using them to spread her thighs apart. y/n’s back lifts off the bed momentarily at that comment, and she laughs in such a way that makes her sound drunk. perhaps this is another thing that gets her similar to a drunken state, bruce thinks as he glances at her. he moves his fingers to her entrance, and spreads her folds in such a way that makes their come really leak out of her.

y/n’s back is on the bed again and she’s whimpering in response to that feeling, bruce touching her while she has that same sensitivity as before, only perhaps much more intense now than before. she’s been made to come twice, and it’s starting to take the most wonderful toll on her. bruce looks at her again, fully now, takes in the sight of her, as his hands caress her inner thighs. to comfort and soothe hair as he best can, knowing that she might be exhausted, overstimulated, sore, and whatever else. he’s not a specialist on female bodies, but he knows y/n. and the limits she has while fighting also tell of the limits she has sexually.

he decides to litter her body with kisses and nibbles as he makes his way across it, back up to be face to face with her, on quite literally one level. and y/n squirms gently under him, wrapping both her arms around his form once he’s come in close enough range for her to do that. bruce leaves a last few wet kisses on her neck, even getting the idea to suck on the skin right below her jaw, knowing it will leave a mark. and he wants to. he wants to see that mark on her, from him. the action makes her squirm even more under him, fuelling her ever-rising arousal again. she guesses with being spider-woman she also has a higher libido than most women. how interesting. she feels sensitive, and yet like she could go for round two, three and so on.

once he’s face to face with her again, bruce caresses y/n’s forehead with his hand, moving sweat and hair off it, to see her full beauty. he smiles at her, a completely rare smile that she’s sure she’s seeing now for the first time in their time shared together ever. she can’t exactly place what that smile encompasses or shows, but she won’t question the little miracle. she smiles back and wraps her arms closer around his torso. “you feeling okay?” bruce whispers to her.

y/n nods surely. “i feel like people feel when they're drunk,” she confesses, and the two share laughter together over that statement.

“you sound the part,” bruce agrees, and y/n laughs harder. her fingers caress the marks she’s made on the skin of bruce’s back, and it nearly scares her. feels like cat scratches, almost. she searches his eyes, no doubt he’s felt them, too, of course, they’re on his back, after all. but bruce doesn’t say a word.

“how do you feel?” she asks him then quietly, cautiously, “baby.” she adds and has a giggle to herself, remembering how that pet-name made him feel just a few minutes prior. bruce shakes his head with a laugh, he’s in slight disbelief of her audacity. she will certainly use this to tease him now. “think i made some new scars on your back.” y/n admits, and her teeth bite into the inside of her lip out of slight nervousness.

“you did?” bruce says and tries to glance over his shoulder at the scars she talks about, but can’t see properly. he sits up then and glances around her room in search of a mirror. turns out there is one just on her night stand, and bruce makes a surprised facial expression at it. he turns his back to it, and y/n sits up with him now, to see the scratches. “huh.” y/n keeps her arms wrapped around his form, and traces her fingers over those lines again.

“sorry,” she says with a frown, but bruce looks down at her in slight confusion.

“don’t be,” he tells her with a shake of his head, “i like them.” bruce assures and cups her face in his palms, chasing her lips afterwards playfully, making her smile—exactly what he wanted to do. “they’ll heal faster than the others,” bruce tells her dismissively about the scars between gentle kisses on her lips, and it makes y/n giggle. how he loves this moment, just this moment between them two, he can’t even say it. y/n naked in his arms, her leaning up towards his body, both of them sitting messily on the made-messy bed sheets, just exchanging the feather-lightest, affectionate kisses.

“now that makes me kinda sad,” y/n admits in a chuckled whisper to bruce, continuing their small conversation. but it doesn’t go very far, as she’s chasing his lips now, going after them like a lion, and penetrating his mouth with her tongue when she catches them. she adores this moment, this connection, everything about it, as much as bruce does, and she wants just this moment to last for the rest of eternity. bruce’s hands on her cheeks, caressing her jawline, her cheeks and cheekbones, as well as her new hickey, and therefore pressing his arms against her breasts in their very close proximity to one another, between their bodies. his tongue playing with hers in their supposedly light kisses, her hands running across his back, bruce’s hair tickling her face and making her lips curve into smiles. a sudden fear of losing him, of losing this moment, creeps into her mind almost like a jump scare, and it makes her pull just an inch away and look into bruce’s eyes with such a serious glaze that it nearly scares him, too, “don’t leave this time.” she pleads him, remembering all those mornings she’s woken up without him here.

bruce furrows his eyebrows. “this time?” he echoes, and y/n nods.

“you’ve always been gone when i woke up here after our nights out,” she explains and leans into the cupid hold his hands have made around her face, avoiding his eyes for just a second. oh, all those nights they stayed up talking until y/n broke and fell dead asleep. she looks up into his dark, understanding eyes. she’s making him see so many things he’s been blind to all this time, “please. stay.” y/n says in a small voice.

bruce makes a smile as his thumb crosses her gentle, plump cheek again. “i won’t leave,” he promises her, “but shouldn’t you be the one making that promise?” bruce teases, grinning and raising an eyebrow. y/n rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile on her lips again. now, he has some nerve. but he’s right.

“if me leaving ends up like this every time,” she says with a playful facial expression, “i might just do it again.” y/n challenges and gives bruce a mischievous look. he shakes his head and presses it against hers, forehead to forehead, admiring her humour and marvelling at the fact that it has returned. he now realises he missed it a lot. her light-heartedness, her sarcasm and slight teasing here and there. it used to fill up that gothic bedroom of the riddance bed they shared, but for this time that he didn’t see her, the room was filled with nothing but darkness, gloom and the smell of sweat. “but i won’t,” y/n assures him, breaking them both out of their daydreams and fascinations with each other, “i promise.” she nods. “i trust you, now more than ever.” y/n closes her eyes as she breathes out a sigh. “i don’t want to lose you, either.” she echoes the words he said before.

bruce watches her face as he huffs through his nose, trying to do it quietly, so she wouldn’t think he’s mad with her. he’s not anymore. as said before, she’s opened his eyes to so much, especially lately, and he understands her and the world so much better. perhaps he also understands himself better, too. either way, to bruce, this is the start of a much greener path. and not just for him.

.

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Phantom in Gotham 7

Chapter 6

In no time at all Danny found himself in a nightwing t-shirt with black and gray bat pajama pants, hair a bit damp, and sitting on a soft couch across from Alfred with a cup of warm cocoa in his hands. “I assume you have questions?” Alfred prompted after a moment, setting his teacup down on the matching plate on the coffee table. 

“Um, yeah,”Danny stammered, looking from his cup to Alfred. He sighed,”Sorry, um. I’ve never been kidnapped by a vigilante before, so I’m not exactly sure… what to do here?”

Alfred sighed, not at Danny, but he assumed Alfred hoped the Red Hood might’ve explained a bit more before dropping him off with the man. “No need to worry, Red Hood informed me of your situation, young man. You are welcome to stay here, at the very least until the snow subsides,” Alfred informed him. “Beyond that, please make yourself at home. You may find a few familiar faces around the manor, even.”

“Who? What do you mean?” Danny asked, tilting his head and reminding Alfred of a puppy. 

“You’re residing in Wayne Manor, and I am Master Bruce’s butler,”Alfred winked, and Danny’s eyes widened. “I assume you might know the many children he’s adopted from the news. Currently Masters Damian and Timothy are home, but the others may show up at a later date.”

“The Wayne Manor?” Danny repeated absently. He vaguely recalled Tucker ranting about WayneTech. “Are you sure it’s okay for me to be here? I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

“Nonsense,” Alfred waved gracefully,”You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. There are plenty of empty rooms in this place, and it’s been feeling entirely too empty since Master Jason and Dick moved out.” 

“Well… if you’re sure,”Danny relented, sipping at his mug again. “Are you the only butler here? This place is huge.”

“Quite,” Alfred inclined his head,”There are a few other hired hands, but I am in charge of most things within the manor, such as mealtimes.”

“I could help?” Danny offered, perking up. Living in the Pizzeria left little time for cooking in an actual kitchen, and his core hummed at the prospect of helping the old man. “My parents weren’t great at cooking so my sister and I did most of the cooking around the house.”

Despite no one else but Jason allowed in his kitchen, Alfred’s heart warmed at the offer. “I’d enjoy some company, if you’d care to join me,”Alfred smiled, and Danny’s core hummed happily. Danny smiled back, and Alfred could only hope the boy was better than Dick had been in the kitchen. The poor boy somehow had found a way to set a bowl of cereal on fire that one time. 

Before anyone could add anything else, a small boy about eleven years old walked past the room with an apple in hand. The boy in question halted in his tracks and approached the two on the couches. “Another one?” The boy scoffed, and Danny took a moment to take in the kid’s cat t-shirt and nightwing pajama pants. “Pennyworth, doesn’t Father have enough children? Where is he? I must talk sense into him.”

“Master Danny here was sent for us to look after by the Red Hood,”Alfred forewarned as Danny fidgeted on the couch,”He will be staying with us while the snow is hampering his living conditions. Master Danny, meet Master Wayne’s son, Damian,” Alfred added, turning to Danny. 

“H-hi,” Danny waved awkwardly, unsure of what to say to the kid whose house he’s staying in without Damian knowing. “Nice to meet you?” Danny offered.

Damian just scoffed,”Of course. I bet Hood found him on the streets, didn’t he?”

“Hey, it’s not like I wanted to be here,”Danny shot back, exasperated,”Hood threw me over his shoulder and dragged me here. I’d leave if I could but this place is so big I don’t think I’d be able to find the door.”

Damian frowned, thinking,”You wouldn’t survive the blizzard outside even if you managed to find the door. Besides, you’re here now, might as well take advantage of the manor while you can,” Damian squinted, almost like he was testing Danny.

“I’ll have you know that I would have been perfectly fine out there,”Danny sniffed, and Damian’s eyes narrowed at him. “I’d make an igloo and burrow into it like a polar bear. So don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

“Tt. Your sense of self-preservation is worrying, and I doubt your ability to make a structurally sound igloo,”The kid concluded, looking out towards the windows covered in snow.“Are you implying the snow is preferable to the manor? Why do you desire a cold death out there over warmth here?”

Danny waved his concerns off,”Your giant castle is nice, I just. I had a space to hide out in, and being kidnapped to stay here was not on my list of things to do today.”

Alfred tutted,”An abandoned building with no heat or water was not adequate housing for this sort of blizzard, young man.”

Damian ignored Danny’s mumble proclaiming that he would have been fine, and stated,”I have concluded that you may be stupid or suicidal, so I will allow you to stay here until the snow lets up, if only to not have your death on my conscience,”Damian nodded, then scowled threateningly,”If you try to leave before I or Pennyworth say so, I will make sure you stay by less than pleasant means.” He stated, then turned on his heel and left the room.

Danny made a face at that, wondering if the kid was joking or not about the ‘less than pleasant means’ that he’d go through if he tried to leave. Did they have cameras here? He wondered if he’d be able to go ghost without anyone noticing. “Do not worry,”Alfred stated, standing up gracefully. “Master Damian has a soft spot for strays, you’ll be welcome here.”

“Um… okay?”Danny said incredulously. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to be welcome here, yet his core had latched on to the frail old man like a starving cat to a tuna sandwich. He knew he’d only be able to leave once he’d made sure Alfred, and possibly Damian too, were safe during the blizzard. This day just got weirder and weirder. 

“I’m sure you’re tired. If you’ll follow me, I can show you to the guest bedroom,”Alfred offered, and Danny scrambled to his feet. He wasn’t tired in the least, and he doubted he’d be able to fall asleep at all tonight given his fucked up sleep schedule and his need for less sleep than usual anyway, but he didn’t realize that Alfred was probably tired, and needed to rest for the night. 

“Uh- sure, yeah,”Danny rambled, and the two made a detour to the kitchen to put away the cups before Alfred led Danny down a corridor with some decorations and nameplates attached to some of the doors. 

“You’re right next to Timothy, who should be asleep as of now, but if you have any issues he will be able to help you,” Alfred informed him, opening the door to the biggest room Danny had ever seen (not including Vlad’s). “I shall leave you to retire for now, master Danny, but do try and get some sleep. Breakfast starts at 8am sharp, and is mandatory for all those residing in the house tonight.”

“Do you want any help making breakfast?” Danny offered sincerely. He’d try to go exploring in his ghost form, but he knew he’d be bored and restless most of the night as he decided not to go out patrolling. Might as well try to get an early start on the day, he figured. 

“I don’t see why not,”Alfred conceded. “I usually start around 6:30, but feel free to show up whenever you wake.”

“I’ll be there,” Danny smiled brightly. It’d been so long since he’d been able to cook something with Jazz, despite his lack of appetite, he’d missed it. 

“Goodnight, Master Danny,”Alfred nodded, a soft, fond smile on his face. 

“G’night Alfred,”Danny waved as he left the corridor. He sighed, making his way into the room and face-planting onto the bed. 

What a day, he thought. 

Chapter 8