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robinsdearest · 4 years ago

Text

Ugly

Hal Jordan x Reader | Clark Kent x sister!f!Reader | John Stewart x Reader

Intruder (Part 1) Mattresses (Part 2) Ugly (Part 3)

After about a month of continuous Friday and Saturday night dates, John finally asked you if it was okay that the two of you were official, which made your heart swell. John Stewart was an incredibly generous man, especially when it came to you. He continued to always be a complete gentleman, and he never let you down- in essence, John was the complete opposite of Hal Jordan. And speaking of Hal, the voicemails and the notes kept appearing. John tried to talk some sense into Hal after he revealed to the League that the two of you started dating, but Hal never got the picture. Hal came to League meetings less and less, went on fewer missions, and didn't talk to any of the other members- all aside, your brother and your boyfriend did not care. A couple of months after Hal started to disappear from the Justice League, you started to get nervous. You felt as if something bad was going to happen. John kept trying to assure you that he wouldn't let anything happen to you, at least not while he was around. You were also scared that John would end up cheating on you like Hal did. When you confronted your boyfriend about this, John turned into a mess- he couldn't help but hold you and kiss you and tell you that he would never do that to you. He was cheated on like you were, and he swore that he would never put you through pain like that. His words eased your mind, and you pushed all your worries to the side, even about Hal. That confrontation was about a month ago.

Now, you sat at a table in a very fancy restaurant in Metropolis. John sat across from you, the two of you holding hands on the table. You were telling him all about your day and everything that was going on at work. John was partially listening as he was also trying to plan a way to ask you to move in together in Metropolis. At the sound of your brother's name, John snapped out of his trance. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I dozed off. What did you say again?" He rubbed the back of his neck, obviously embarrassed. You only laughed and ran your thumb over the back of his hand. "I was telling you that Clark wants me to move here to Metropolis. That way he can always keep an eye on me. I don't think it's a bad idea since I could also be closer to you." A large, toothy grin appeared on John's face: you met his own plan. "I mean, yeah! That would be great. But do you know what would be better?" John leaned forward over the table to get closer to you. You leaned forward as well to be several inches from his face. "And what would that be, huh?" John gulped down some air- it was now or never. "You could also be closer to me if we moved in together. An apartment here, in Metropolis, closer to your brother." His smiled was erased from his face as you shot back away from him. Pulling your hand away, you brought it to your other arm where you started scratching yourself- a tick John learned you did whenever you got nervous.

"Y/N. I didn't mean to, I mean, if you don't want to, we don't have to." You stayed silent which worried John even more. Your eyes kept shifting from John's eyes to something behind him. When John finally understood and whipped his head around, anger instantly flooded his body. He stood up abruptly and put some distance between him and the table. "What do you want?" John growled and shoved his hand into his pants pocket, slowly putting the ring on in anticipation. "I need to talk to Y/N. Come on, baby. I know you want to." "Go away, Hal. She doesn't want to see you." John could smell the alcohol on Hal's breath. He stepped towards Hal, putting more distance between you and him. "Shut it, John. You don't know her like I do. Right, Y/N?" Hal stepped forward and was met by John's strong hand to his chest. "No way, bud. Now let's get out of here before something turns ugly."

It was Hal's turn to become angry. "Ugly? I'll show you something ugly!" He threw a punch at John's face, which John barely dodged. You stood up from your seat and backed away. You knew something bad was going to happen. You fumbled for your phone hoping to call the one person that could help. John had pushed Hal outside of the restaurant and into the alley where they both proceeded to turn their rings on, both becoming clad in green. "She doesn't deserve you, John! She doesn't love you like she loves me." Hal threw insults simultaneously with his punches. He was drunk and not very focused. John kept his composure and dodged each punch. Hal eventually had enough. "Okay, FINE." He was screaming now. "Let's dance, pretty boy." A green bull emerged from Hal's ring. The bull charged at John, who projected a shield to try and protect himself. John looked down to the restaurant to see where you were. You were outside of the building, crying. John could see your sobbing from the air. His attention was turned away from you when Hal's bull broke through his shield. The bull turned into a raging train. John had barely enough time to move out of the way. He flew higher up to move the chaos away from the street. Finally pulling out your cell phone, you called Clark first. He didn't answer. You then called Diana, Barry, and finally Bruce- the last was the only one to answer. "Bruce. Hal is attacking John. I'm sending my coordinates. Please come and help. Clark isn't answering." The man on the other end didn't say a word as he hung up on you. You returned your eyes to the sky, only to find Hal holding John by the throat and beating the life out of him. You screamed Hal's name. He halted his assault on the other Lantern, and threw him onto a nearby roof. Hal floated down to you. You could still smell the alcohol radiating off of him.

"Y/N. baby. I knew you would want to talk." He reached for your hand which you instantly pulled back. His eyebrows furrowed together. "Y/N? You know I would never hurt you. Please come back to me. Can't you see I'm a mess?" The tears on your face continued to crash down and caused you to stumble while speaking. "Ha-Hal. I can't do this with y-y-you. I'm moving in with John." Hal's eyebrows furrowed deeper into an angry frown. "You're what?" He clinched his hands into fists at his side. You stood a little straighter while composing yourself, not fully noticing his boiling rage. "I'm moving in with John. You cheated on me, Hal. I cannot and will never forgive you." You let out a scream when Hal quickly moved towards you, scaring you with his movements. You knew he would never physically harm you, but you had never seen Hal this drunk before now.

"No, no, no, no, no. That can't be true. You're mine, baby." Hal inched his face closer to yours as if to kiss you. You turned your head away from him, yet you never felt his lips. Instead, you felt a whirlwind and the absence of Hal's stench. When you looked up, you saw Clark holding Hal by the neck into the building next to you. Once again, you screamed another name- this time, Superman's. He instantly stopped hitting Hal, and dropped him on to the roof. Superman rushed over to you, picked you up, and carried you to John's body. You sprinted to John's side. He was leaning against an air vent, holding his side. He probably had a few broken ribs most likely a broken jaw. A sad smile danced on John's face when he saw you. "Y/N." he coughed loudly. "I'm sorry I didn't protect you well enough." A tear rolled down his face and onto your hand which caressed his cheek. "And you also never answered my question." You half-laughed, half-sobbed and threw your arms around his neck. "Of course I will, John. That sounds wonderful." John winced at your movements, but hugged you tighter. After a minute, you pulled back and looked John in the eyes. "Now you really have to protect me." It was John's turn to laugh. However, the two of you and Clark looked up at the whirring of the Batplane landing next to you. "You're lucky Hal isn't in a coma, Clark." Batman climbed out of the vehicle and strode next to Superman. Clark simply shrugged and gestured to you and John. "My sister needed help. Hal went too far." "Now he's at the Batcave receiving treatment. You could have killed him." John huffed as his lips turned upright into a sly grin. "Well, now he'll finally stop calling you and leaving you notes, Y/N." You froze and sent daggers towards John. His smile quickly disappeared from his face. "What?" Clark's voice was unmistakeable. He shot Bruce a glare before speeding off to the cave. "You better go stop him." You called after Bruce as he climbed back into the plane. "And I thought I was the detective."

John put a hand under your chin and pulled your face back to his. "Want to go look for apartments?" His broken smile gave you butterflies- some good and some bad. "Let's get you better before we do that, John." You kissed his temple as you helped him stand. You were worried about Hal, but you knew Batman would protect him.

A couple of weeks later, you and John found a cozy apartment just a couple of blocks from where both John and Hal were beat to a pulp. John was still healing. A knock on the door brought you to drop what you were doing and answer it. There was only a note on the door with a single rose on the ground.

"Y/N- I know you can never forgive me, but I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry I wronged you, I'm sorry I beat up your boyfriend, and I'm sorry I hurt you. I still love you, Y/N. I never said it then, but I'll say it now. I'll always wait for you."

Your heart froze. Neither you nor John had told anyone where the new apartment was located. Not even Bruce or Clark knew.

How did Hal know?

#john stewart x reader #hal jordan x reader #green lantern fanfic #brother superman #batman makes an appearance #dc fanfic #robinsdearest

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cozy-the-overlord · 3 years ago

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Severed

Sequel to Attached

Summary: When the Council sends Sydaya to retrieve the tesseract, she's forced to confront an old friend she thought she'd never see again.

Word Count: 5,130

Pairing: Loki x OFC

A/N: I've been wanting to write a sequel to Attached for a long time now-- almost since I first posted it-- but I had been holding off because I didn't think anyone would be interested in such a sequel. Attached isn't exactly one of my more popular fics, and I felt like my time would be better spent finishing projects I knew people wanted to read. But nearly a year later, I decided to just go for it, and I'm really glad I did because this was some of the most fun I've had writing a story for a long time. I guess I'll consider it an early birthday present to myself lmao.

Thanks for reading!

Warnings: None, I think? It’s basically the first Avengers movie, but with a Jedi running around on the helicarrier lol.

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @the-emo-asgardian @imnotrevealingmyname

If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :)

Read it on Ao3!

The starfighter set down against the helicarrier with a jolt, just barely within the white lines the control tower had directed her between. Sydaya winced. She had never been particularly good at landings. Given the circumstances, she supposed it could have been much worse, but still, she found herself pressing the lantern charm on her necklace against between her fingers.

Just breathe. It’s all going to be okay. Just breathe.

A team of SHEILD marshallers was already rushing forward to strap her ship down as she climbed out of the cockpit. Even with everything going on, Sydaya fought the urge to laugh. Shortly after her assignment, her old master had given her a quick briefing on Terran culture and technology, with strict instructions to not allow her judgement to show.

“The Terrans may be a bit … behind the times,” he said hesitantly. “But they are a very proud people. Be careful not to offend them. This situation is delicate enough already.”

And so Sydaya bit her lip, even though the idea of a carrier with an outdoor hanger but without gravity locks seemed like something out of a history data-tape.

A man was awaiting her at the entrance, wearing the same navy-blue jumpsuit and neutral expression as every other SHIELD agent she’d come across—although, he did do a visible double take as she approached.

“Sydaya Clepar?” he asked, frowning at his tablet.

Sydaya forced a smile. “Yes, sir.” She managed to hold her expression even as he turned back to her, peering at her as if she were a chicken claiming to be a swan.

“You’re the one the Jedi Council sent?” he asked again.

The muscles in her face were beginning to hurt. “Yes, sir,” she said. “Can you take me to Director Fury, please?”

After another suspicion-laced glare, the agent finally seemed to concede. “This way.”

Sydaya heaved a quiet sigh of relief.

It wasn’t really his fault, she told herself as she followed him through the hallways of the helicarrier. When people were told to expect a Jedi, their minds went to wizened old men with scraggly beards and wrinkled cheeks hidden under the hoods of their robes. Who could blame them for being confused when they got a skinny little snip of a girl instead? Sydaya knew she was young, and it didn’t help that she had always been short for her age. Any normal person would wonder at her qualifications. Honestly, Sydaya herself had been wondering at her qualifications for this mission, although her age had little to do with it.

The bridge was bustling with movement—people hurrying from one place to the next, shouting coordinates and orders and all sorts of things as their thoughts raced through their tasks. It was chaos, but it was a familiar chaos—almost reminiscent of life on a Jedi cruiser. Sydaya felt herself relax a bit.

See? Just get through this quickly, and everything will be back to normal.

“Commander Clepar?”

Sydaya turned to find herself facing a shorter, middle-aged man with a receding hairline, the only person around to be wearing a suit instead of jumpsuit. He gave her an enthusiastic smile.

“Are you Director Fury?” she asked, even though she was fairly certain she knew the answer. Based on what she had heard of the director of SHIELD, he didn’t strike her as a smiley type.

“No.” He extended his hand, and after an awkward moment Sydaya realized he expected her to take it. When she did, he gave it a firm shake. “I’m Coulson. Agent Phil Coulson. Fury asked me to get you up to date.” He grinned. “I’ve never met a Jedi knight before.”

Sydaya swallowed. Right. She was a knight now. She still couldn’t get used to that. Everything had happened so fast—her trials had been completed in a whirlwind two months, her ceremony shoehorned in right before she was dispatched to Ryloth to aid Republic troops against the Separatist blockade. She still found herself reaching for the clump of hair where her padawan braid had once hung.

But that was irrelevant now. Sydaya cleared her throat.

“Can you explain the situation to me?” she asked, summoning her most professional, Jedi-knight voice. “I’m afraid I wasn’t told very much.”

“Well, we haven’t located the tesseract yet, but it should be easy enough to track down,” he assured her. “It emits a very recognizable gamma signature—we’ve got our best man working on it right now. Bruce Banner, have you heard of him?”

She shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”

“Well, he knows what he’s doing. He’ll find it soon enough. But we do have the Asgardian in custody.”

“Yes.” Her mouth suddenly felt quite dry. “Yes, I was informed of that.”

She had thought she must have been dreaming when Master Windu had pulled up the hologram of Loki Odinson marching through the streets of Terra, wearing the same golden helmet he had once mockingly plopped on her head after they snuck away to the gardens from a particularly tedious meeting.

You should try wearing it into battle sometime. It suits you.

Sydaya had swatted at him and called him a name—something playful and stupid, something she couldn’t quite remember anymore. She had been trying to forget the events leading up to last year—she didn’t want to forget, but it hurt to remember, and it was useless to cause herself pain over something that she couldn’t change. There is no emotion, there is peace. It was a lie, but it was such a pretty lie, and it was easier to repeat over and over again in her head than to admit that all she really wanted was one last chance to see the only person she had ever wanted to hold.

Perhaps she should have been careful what she wished for.

Her mission was not about Loki. Really, it had very little to do with him. The Council was concerned with what he possessed—infinity stones were nothing to be trifled with. They hadn’t been happy with the Terran organization SHEILD housing the tesseract to begin with, and the events of the past few days had only proved their concerns. Sydaya was to work with SHEILD to recover the gem and to return it to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant at all costs. Only then would both it and the galaxy be secure.

Sydaya barely heard these orders. She could only watch the looping hologram, watch the emaciated ghost of the boy she had thought was lost forever.

She told them that she couldn’t accept this assignment. As the Council was surely aware of, she was too personally involved—she wasn’t sure she could trust herself to remain emotionally detached from the situation. In all honesty, she had been shocked that they had attempted to give it to her in the first place.

That’s when Master Windu told her that she didn’t have a choice.

“In order to send a Jedi into the Nine Realms, we require the Asgardian royal family’s consent,” he said. “You are the only Jedi to whom they would allow passage.”

Sydaya was stunned. “Me?” she whispered. “Why?”

“They didn’t say.” Even through the hologram, she could feel the way Master Windu was studying her face. “But I trust you will treat this mission with the solemnity and maturity that we would expect from a knight.”

The message was clear. Get ahold of yourself.

Sydaya swallowed. Without realizing it, she clutched at the lantern charm around her neck. The roughness of the broken glass scratched against her fingers like sandpaper.

Just so you don’t forget me, what with all the attractive princes you run into.

“I will, Masters,” she said. “You have my word.”

On the helicarrier, she tucked the necklace underneath her robes. She probably shouldn’t have been wearing it at all—somehow, she felt that wearing a gift from the criminal she would soon be interrogating wasn’t treating the mission with the “solemnity and maturity” Master Windu expected—but she couldn’t bring herself to take it off.

Agent Coulson was still talking. “There was a bit of a fuss, but for the most part, he surrendered willingly,” he continued. “The cell where we’re holding him is incredibly secure—you know, it was originally designed for—”

“Sydaya!”

The booming voice surprised her, even though it shouldn’t have been entirely unexpected. Sydaya turned to see the familiar titan of a man making his way towards her across the bridge. She bowed. “Prince Thor.”

The Asgardian took her hand in his and pressed a light kiss to her knuckles. “It is good to see you, my lady. Congratulations on your knighthood.”

Sydaya frowned. “How did you know about that?” She hadn’t been in contact with Thor or any of his family since Loki’s funeral over a year ago.

“My mother told me.” It was a subtle confirmation that Queen Frigga had been keeping tabs on her Jedi career, just as her master had predicted. Sydaya tried to swallow the awful feeling rising in her stomach. Thor continued. “How have you been fairing?”

She inhaled. “About the same. And you?”

He sighed. It was strange— while she had been staying on Asgard, Thor’s defining characteristic had always been his childishness. He saw everything as a conquest refusing to look at a situation from any perspective other than his own and throwing a fit when the rest of the world wouldn’t bend to his desires. And yet here he was, only a year later, looking decades older and oceans more somber.

“It is difficult,” he finally said. “I wish to be overjoyed that he is alive, and of course I am, but …” He shook his head. “He’s not the brother I remember.”

Sydaya’s breath caught in her throat. This was beginning to sound like what her old master had told her before she left, the warning he had left her with …

Her eyes burned, and she blinked, quick to push the memory far away from her thoughts. She couldn’t revisit that conversation. Not now.

“Has he said anything about the tesseract?” she asked. “Or why he’s interested in it?” It was a question that she had yet to hear anyone ask, but that had been nonetheless floating through her head ever since she had walked out of her briefing. Why? The Loki she knew cared little for rulership and had no interest in domination. What happened to him in the last year? Why had he suddenly become so power hungry?

But Thor only shook his head. “Nothing at all. He has said nothing but that which to taunt us. I fear he is completely beyond reason.”

Sydaya gulped. This was the part she had been dreading. “Perhaps I should talk to him then. Maybe he’d be more willing to talk with—” With a friend? But that’s not what you are anymore, are you? She bit her tongue, her mouth flooding with the metallic taste of blood. “With someone more removed from the situation.”

“I can arrange that,” Agent Coulson offered. “Just give me a sec.” As he went off to speak with another agent at a computer, Thor turned back to her with a concerned frown.

“He’s not the same, my lady” he cautioned. “I doubt speaking with him will help anything.”

Sydaya shrugged, hoping the prince couldn’t see how tense her shoulders had become. “I’ve faced worse,” she said with false levity. “Besides, I have orders. I’ll be alright.”

Down the hall, Coulson waved her over. “This way.”

…

The cell in which they were holding Loki was … different. It was, at its base, a large, glass cylinder suspended over an air chute by four mechanical fixtures—a safety net, as Coulson referred to it.

“If he touches the glass with any kind of force, the whole thing drops,” he explained eagerly. “So you don’t have to worry about him trying anything.”

Sydaya swallowed. “I wasn’t.”

Her heart was thudding as she made her way down the hallway, so loud she was certain everyone on the whole damn ship could hear it.

There is no emotion, there is peace.

She wondered if there would ever be a day where the code rang true in her mind.

The figure in the cell was lounging on the bench, head back, eyes closed, black hair slicked into spiky curls cascading over his shoulders. He laughed as she approached. The sound was hard and cold, and yet so familiar it hurt.

“Come back for more already? Or do you—” Loki’s voice cut out abruptly when he turned to face her. For a moment, Sydaya forgot how to breath.

Because it was Loki. Living, breathing, solid Loki. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but with all the warnings, all the somberly whispered words describing some unrecognizable madman, it seemed impossible that it would be Loki, her Loki, awaiting her in that cage.

That’s not to say he looked well. He had aged since she saw him last—there was a hollowness to his cheeks, a tension to his shoulders that hadn’t been there before. When he stood, his movement was stilted, rigid, lacking every bit of the easy fluidity she had always associated with him. The fire that once blazed behind his eyes seemed to have been dulled to weary coals.

And there was something else too, something that only became apparent once the jolt of seeing him again had faded. The two of them were alone in this airshaft prison and yet, through the Force, Sydaya could feel a third being—something cold and rotting, wafting in and out the cell and clinging to Loki’s form like a leech. The hairs on her arms stood straight up. Sydaya had never before been in the presence of the dark side of the Force, but she knew enough to recognize it in an instant. She recoiled without thinking.

On the other side of the glass, Loki seemed shocked into silence. He stared at her as if she were an apparition returned from the dead, approaching like some half-starved predator as his eyes remained locked on hers.

“No,” he finally whispered. It felt almost like a growl. “No, this is a trick. The Council wouldn’t send you. You’re too involved.”

Sydaya tried to swallow the cyclone of emotion bubbling at her throat, but her mouth felt too dry.

“They didn’t want to,” she managed at last, voice flat. “Your parents wouldn’t allow anyone else.”

“My parents.” Loki turned away, looking out through the wall at something that seemed to appear only in his mind’s eye. He exhaled a humorless laugh. “So is this their attempt at pacification?” he asked. “Are they scrounging up all of my old acquaintances in hopes that one might be able to reason with the madman?”

“Loki—”

“In all honesty, I’m surprised you even accepted the invitation, Padawan,” he said, his tone taking on a much more purposeful edge as he began pacing the length of his cell. “Seeing as our last conversation seemed too much for you to handle.”

His words hit her like a slap to the face. Her own echoed through her mind.

I can’t do this.

It must have showed in her expression because his leering grin only widened.

“How shall it be, Padawan?” he asked, crowding against the glass. “How long before you run from me again? I do hope your code allows you to stay for the grand finale this time—you missed the whole show before, and I must say it was quite the thrilling experience—”

“Loki stop.” To her surprise, he did. It was taking everything in her to hold herself steady. Sydaya pressed her fingernails into the palms of her hands. He wasn’t being fair and he knew he wasn’t being fair, which cut even deeper. That last time they spoke, in the gardens of Asgard … didn’t he realize how many nights she had lain awake, replaying that conversation back in her mind over and over again until she could hardly see straight? Didn’t he know how the words she didn’t say that day now haunted her every waking moment? Or did he only want to torture her more?

That awful, malevolent presence seemed to be pulsing around them, flexing with every dagger he spat at her, beaming every time they landed. She inhaled. This isn’t himself. You know he’s not himself. Pull yourself together.

“I’m here for the tesseract,” she said, tone so devoid of emotion that even Master Windu would have been impressed.

Loki laughed again, even more dryly than before. “Of course you are.” He returned to his pacing. “Well, as I’m sure your Midgardian stooges would be overjoyed to tell you, I don’t have it. I’m afraid you’ll have to look elsewhere.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Loki raised his eyebrows as if scandalized. “Are you saying you wish to search me, Padawan?” Smirking, he stretched his arms out, as if expecting an embrace. “By all means, go ahead, although I imagine it would be a difficult situation to explain to your masters—”

“Who’s making you do this?” she interjected. Her words had an immediate effect. Loki’s smile dropped. All at once, the room went cold. It was only for a moment, but the façade he had been holding around himself ever since she had walked in cracked, and for a split second she could feel it, overwhelming all her senses— his sheer, unmitigated fear.

He was terrified.

It broke her heart.

Sydaya pressed her hand to the glass, even as he turned away from her.

“I know you, Loki,” she whispered to his back. “You never wanted to be king—you told me so yourself, remember? I know this interest in the tesseract isn’t yours.” She waited, but he said nothing. The Force twisted around them again, but this time she almost heard something too, dark, growling words not meant for her ears.

“Who’s here?” she asked sharply. “Who’s listening right now? Who’s making you do this, Loki?”

“Stop!” He whipped around, chest heaving, eyes wild. “You don’t know anything,” he snapped. “Not about me. Not even in the slightest.”

Sydaya leaned against the glass, wishing she could hold him, soothe him. “Then tell me.”

He sank back against the bench. For a moment, it seemed nothing else existed—just Loki staring at the floor, and Sydaya staring at him. He laughed softly, shaking his head even as he pressed his hands to his temple.

When he looked up, there were tears pooling in his eyes. “You really shouldn’t have come, ‘Daya.”

She didn’t have the chance to respond before the explosion rocked the entire helicarrier.

…

When her old master had popped into her quarters before she left for Terra, Sydaya had known he had something more important on his mind than explaining how Terrans used metal bullets in their firearms and greeted each other by shaking hands. She had listened and nodded to everything he had to say as she sat hunched in her desk chair, chewing through the inside of her cheek as she waited for him to reach his point. She didn’t need the Force to tell her that it wasn’t good.

It had taken him a while to work up to it. But finally, he inhaled, fixing her with a serious glare from where he sat on her bed.

“‘Daya,” he said. “I want to make sure that you understand what’s at stake here. The tesseract—all the infinity stones— they contain a power that no one in this galaxy can ever truly harness. Alone, they’re volatile and dangerous. In the wrong hands, they have the capacity for mass destruction.”

Sydaya had frowned. She knew this, of course—every youngling knew about the infinity stones. “Why are you telling me this?”

He hesitated. “I know Loki was your friend. But you have to realize that that’s gone. He has the tesseract, and it’s clear he’s got his mind set on devastation. You must not allow that to happen.”

“I understand—”

“Do you?” her master asked. “Because you’re being sent in alone—no backup, no reinforcements, no one but yourself to rely on. And there may be a point where you’ll have to make a difficult decision.” He paused. “Sydaya, you must secure the tesseract. At any cost.”

It took a moment for the full meaning of his words to sink in. When they did, Sydaya felt as if she was going to be sick.

“It won’t come to that,” she whispered. It couldn’t. “I’m sure of it.”

He didn’t say anything for a bit, eyeing her with something in between apprehension and pity. “You know why Asgard demanded only you on this mission, don’t you?” he finally asked. “Frigga realizes this as well as I do. She knows that any Jedi sent to Terra poses a risk to her son. She chose the one knight she believes won’t be able to do what’s necessary to defuse the situation.” He stood to leave, holding her in the severity of his gaze. “Millions of lives are at stake, ‘Daya. Don’t let your emotions get the better of you.”

His words rang through her mind even louder than the blaring alarms as she rushed through the hallways of the helicarrier. They were under attack—that much was abundantly clear. She gripped her the hilt of her lightsaber, ready to ignite it at a moment’s notice, but she seemed to be alone in the corridor. Still, she could sense the attack unfolding elsewhere on the ship, felt the bloodshed even as another explosion rattled the ground beneath her feet. A woman’s garbled voice pierced the air from a speaker on the ceiling.

“Perimeter breach—hostiles in SHIELD gear—”

Sydaya kept running, searching frantically for a ladder or a staircase or some other way to reach the outdoor hanger. For that had to be the key—how else would hostiles have been able to infiltrate a ship flying over 40,000 feet above the planet’s crust? They had to have a smaller ship of their own, one they were able to land on the helicarrier without issue due to the nature of an open hanger and the lack of gravity locks.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

She had to get to the hanger. It was the only way they could have entered the ship, and thus the only way they could exit alive. Cut off their escape route, and they would be trapped.

The intercom crackled with more voices, most of them too distorted to make out. She caught only one name before the entire system cut out.

Loki.

She shouldn’t have left him. Releasing him was surely the assailants’ target—knowing Loki, he probably planned the whole damn thing himself. Leaving his side had been a mistake, and she knew it, but instinct had taken over in the moment and she had rushed off to find out what was happening.

It didn’t matter. As long as she got to the hanger in time, it didn’t matter.

Sydaya had just made it to a ladder when the second engine cut out. She was barely able to register the lack of the familiar hum when the whole carrier began tipping forward.

“Shit!”

She managed to scramble up the shaft before she went careening down the hallway, but the ship was losing altitude, and fast.

The hanger. Now.

Grunting, Sydaya pulled herself up the rungs. I’m not dying on this farce of a mission. Not today.

The door at the top of the passage was locked. She only tried pushing at it once before reaching for the lightsaber at her waist.

The door flew from its hinges, metal glowing orange with heat as it clattered down the front of the carrier. She pulled herself through the opening and nearly went flying after it—the wind smacked her like a sucker punch, beating her so hard that it felt as if her head would be ripped from her shoulders. She clung to the hilt until her knuckles turned white, focusing on the soothing beam of energy pulsing through the Force from the crystal within as she fought to find her balance atop the failing fortress.

There is no death, there is the Force.

She pushed on. Loki was near—she could feel him, feel the anxious chaos convulsing through his mind as he hurried forward. He was almost at his ship …

Sydaya found him around the corner of the watchtower. He spun around almost as soon she did, eyes crazed as they met hers. He yelled something she couldn’t hear over the roar of the wind in her ears.

The SHIELD-attired accomplices flanking him fired at her, but she dodged their bullets without issue. She grasped the Force around her and flung towards them in one giant push, hoping to knock them off their feet.

It almost worked. The fake SHIELD agents tumbled backwards, but Loki used his scepter to brace himself, maintaining his balance. It was only then that Sydaya noticed the crimson liquid staining the tip.

Blood. He’d killed someone.

The realization turned her insides to ice.

Loki threw a blast of blue energy at her from the scepter. Sydaya almost didn’t duck in time—she could feel the heat singe the tips of her hair as she rolled under it. He hissed and lunged forward, almost bringing the scepter down on her head, but she blocked with her lightsaber and pushed him back. His Force-infused gold hissed as it collided with her blade, but it didn’t break. Their weapons locked together as they pressed against each other.

“Loki—” she choked. It shouldn’t be like this. It shouldn’t have to be like this. “Loki, it’s not too late—”

He sneered, ashen skin stretching too thin across his face. “Yes it is.”

He ripped himself from her, whipping around to shoot another blast at her in close range. She caught it with the Force, straining to hold it still in the air before her.

She had done this before, on the battlefield, stopping blaster charges in midair and throwing them back at her unexpecting assailant. It was a trick she had picked up from her master, back when the war had just begun, when she had first been assigned his padawan. At this point, it was practically second nature.

All she needed was to push.

Loki seemed to be frozen. He stared at her wide-eyed, searching her very soul as he waited for what happened next.

Sydaya’s wrist was shaking.

You must secure the tesseract. At any cost.

She hadn’t lied when she told her master she understood. If Loki were to escape here, he’d continue on his errand to deliver up the tesseract to whatever dark force held him in its grasp. He wasn’t her friend anymore. He was a threat to the galaxy at large.

But when she looked at him, she saw only the boy under the ash tree in the gardens of Asgard, laughing as he tried to talk her through creating her first illusion.

Frigga was right.

The blast hit Sydaya right in the gut. Her vision went white, the pain that exploded across her torso so sharply overwhelming that she didn’t even notice when she hit the floor.

Her lungs were on fire.

Loki was standing over her. When he had made his way over to her, she wasn’t sure, but there he was, looking down at her as she choked out bloodstained gasps on the hanger floor. The scepter in his fist glowed brilliant blue.

Sydaya whimpered.

Finish it. It’s over, just finish it.

But he didn’t move in for the kill. He just stood there, stock still, staring down at her with an expression that she couldn’t quite read.

Sydaya didn’t understand until he knelt beside her to reach for the little green lantern that dangled from her neck. His fingers shook as he cupped it in his hand, mesmerized. For a moment, it seemed he was about to rip the chain from her neck. The thought made her eyes swim with tears.

Please don’t take it, Loki. It’s all I have left, please don’t take it.

But he didn’t. He set the charm down against her collarbone painfully slow, as if he was afraid to break it. When he turned back towards her, his lip was trembling, his eyes glossy.

His fingers brushed her cheek, cupping her face with such restraint that it seemed he was afraid to break her too. His hand was cold. It felt nice against the fever burning under her skin.

Sleep.

The voice was Loki’s, but it didn’t come from his lips. It floated through her mind, soft and soothing and impossible to ignore.

Sleep.

Her eyes drifted close, the fire in her veins slowly washing away as the world faded to blackness.

…

Sydaya woke up surrounded by white.

She was in a bed, hidden by a curtain. Voices rang through her ears in a steady hum as footsteps shuffled back and forth around her. The scent of antiseptic stung her nostrils.

A hospital ward.

She sat up with a groan. Her limbs ached, and everything felt far too heavy. Her torso was wrapped in bandages. Sydaya frowned. Certainly not uninjured, but a far cry from the mess of blood and shredded skin that had been plastered across the hanger floor.

How was she alive?

She jumped when the curtain rasped across its pole. A woman dressed in blue scrubs ducked through, smiling when her gaze landed on Sydaya.

“Commander Clepar. Good to see you’re awake.” She glanced at her clipboard. “You got some minor burns and a conk in the head, but nothing too serious. Pretty lucky, all things considered. You should be able to leave in a little bit.”

Nothing too serious.

Without thinking, Sydaya reached for the charm around her neck, rubbing the uneven texture across the pad of her thumb. There was no way what happened on the deck was nothing too serious. Not unless …

Her voice was dry and rough when she spoke. “Where’s Loki?”

The doctor sighed. “We don’t know, sir. I believe they’re trying to track him now.” She continued on about burn treatments and discharging, but Sydaya didn’t hear her. She rolled the lantern between her fingers again.

Loki had healed her. He must have. There was no other explanation.

She tried reaching out through the Force, but it was useless. He had long since left, and she hadn’t the energy right now to go searching for him.

But he was out there.

Somewhere, her Loki was still out there.

And somehow, she was going to bring him back.

#loki marvel #loki fanfic #loki x ofc #jedi ofc #star wars the clone wars #<-- although that's more of a backdrop #severed #attached #cozy writes

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mattelektras · 3 years ago

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I don't know much about Duke Thomas? What do you like about him?

HOW LONG YOU GOT

i think he has a lot of qualities that the other batboys etc have but without their faults?? he has jason’s experience of being a young kid in gotham without the fancy rich upbringing and like. his street level knowledge. he’s incredibly smart like tim but in his own kind of way?? like he has his own areas of expertise that make him specifically invaluable. he’s got dick’s leadership skills and genuine passion for what he does, bruce’s motivation, n damian’s skill but in his own way imo

which is not to say he doesn’t have fault because he does. he’s not great w authority figures and can be abrasive and confrontational because he finds it hard NOT to stand up for himself and others. and he doesn’t hugely open up and embrace ppl like bruce without being hesitant to begin with. he can be kinda stubborn and maybe overconfident at times because he expects such high standards from himself

his parents were exposed to joker nonsense and became mentally unstable so he took it upon himself to lead an entire MOVEMENT of kids who felt that things without batman or someone like batman would be bad for the city and they wanted to protect it in his place

like. he didn’t do any of that with bruce’s authorisation or permission or whatever, he saw what the city needed and what the batman/robin thing meant for the people in it and made his own moves to do good. he’s a little like steph in that way?? they both decided they could and would do good regardless of whether batman wanted them to or not

he’s SMART like people think tim is the Smart One but duke!!!!!! the riddler shut off the power and said he’d switch it back on if someone answered a riddle and duke dedicated all of his time to research and studying to solve it himself. he’s AMBITIOUS and dedicated and confident in his own shit idk i really like that. i don’t think you get a lot of that in younger heroes because a big part of being a younger hero is the insecurity and self doubt. which he still has but i think he ultimately backs himself and knows what he’s capable of

even used a green lantern ring on his first attempt. i think willpower is something you could attribute to him in a lot of respects. like. he’s really dedicated and determined to BE something and DO something. same with how when he fought damian he didn’t give in despite damian being a better fighter objectively

WRITES POETRY….. HONEY SWEETIE BABY

after his parents went down joker avenue mentally speaking, he was put into foster care and was pretty much abandoned to a system that doesn’t favour the kids in it and he KNEW that. no effort was being made into finding out what happened to his parents so he went out and did it himself

knew bruce was batman when bruce had lost his memories!!! and also back when dick was agent 37, he figured that out too

when he finally started working w bruce and co, bruce asked HIM…. bruce wanted him to work with him not the other way around like that’s cool as fuck that mr batman ceo recognised duke’s potential and knew he’d be an asset

he agreed on the basis that he wasn’t another robin. which i love. because he still maintains his individuality and independence. like. he has control over it. and also to say to mr batman ceo, actually no bitch these are my terms and you WILL meet them. love that for him.

so he was lark instead which. the vibes are impeccable. bat vs bird, still connected to the robin concept but it’s own thing, a songbird. chef kiss. it was an unofficial alias i think but. in all ways he was thought of as lark

then some stuff happened and we learned that his mom was a metahuman and therefore so was duke which. again. NEW. something different for batman comics. so duke further stands out as his own thing imo. he doesn’t need batman’s resources or money etc. he can rely on his own natural resources

supervillain dad a la cass and steph. best trio. i think they should have a mini series

his powers are kind of really fucking cool??? and we don’t even know the extent of them yet because he’s still learning what he can do??

possibly immortal???

mostly light based powers. insane vision due to how his eyes process light. i’m not smart i don’t understand it i just think it’s neat

something about being able to see the history/future of light. so he can tell what’s going to happen in a fight for example. i think. like i said; not smart

the tl;dr is basically that his powers are seemingly pretty ??? at first glance but combined w how straight up genius this boy is and his work ethic and dedication, his potential is off the charts. like i said it really hasn’t been confirmed what the upper limits are which gives him so much room to grow and i Would Like To See It. i love powers like that in general like how domino just seems lucky but when pushed she can make lightning strike. that’s where i feel duke sits so by default he’s already meeting my requirements

#q & a #anonymous #i said the other day how new characters rarely hit w me and he’s one of the ones that really did

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pl-panda · 5 years ago

Text

Damienette aranged marriage: part 3

Whoa... Two parts in one day. Sorry if this one is worse, but yet again I wrote this instead of sleeping.

Warning: there will be some cursing from Jason, but can you really blame him? Credits: Miraculous Ladybug team for the elements I take from MLB show. DC for their characters, @ozmav for the AU, @maribat-archive for giving me access to so many different stories to have take inspirations from, @thyladyanput for idea for Chat Damian and me for the plot.

Part 1

Damienette arranged marriage: Part 3

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“And why would you tell her everything?!” Jason screamed, still hidden behind Batman’s towering posture.

“Because she is my wife Todd!” Damian screamed. The silence in the room was thick enough that if the assassin swinged his sword, he would be able to cut it in half. Finally, Bruce was the one to break it.

“Fuck.”

This worked like detonating a bomb. Immediately, Red Hood, Red Robin and Nightwing pushed their way into the room and surrounded the two teens.

“You were gone for less than forty-eight hours!” Dick

“How did you manage to get married!” Drake

“You are just fifteen demon spawn!” Todd

“And who is she!?” Drake again.

Talia watched this whole ordeal with no small amount of amusement. That is until Bruce suddenly appeared next to her. His frown was downright scary even for her. “Explain. Now!” The growl was low and emotionless, but it was enough to yet again put the room in dead silence.

“Beloved. It is good to see you too.” Talia smiled seductively.

“I am not in the mood. Now talk!”

��Fine.” She dropped all illusion of niceness. “I made peace with old enemy of the League. Or even a shaky alliance. But to seal the treaty, an assurance was required.”

“And that assurance was?” Jason asked confused, earning a facepalm from Dick.

“The Royal Marriage. An heir of the League and future leader of the Order.”

“And that leader would be… her?” Batman asked, not fully convinced.

Marinette was standing there the whole time, greatly uncomfortable with the attention Bat Family was giving her and Damian. She did read a bit on them, but it was always Alya who never shut up about heroes. For the most part, she preferred talk about Ladybug, but lately there was slowly forming a rift. The aspiring reporter was falling into Lila’s lies, posting unreliable videos on Ladyblog. Rossi had it for Ladybug and Alya, together with the rest of Marinette’s class, was falling for her machinations. They still hanged out with Marinette, but there was this distaste forming around her. She was no longer their to-go person with personal problems, being replaced by Lila who was awful at helping others unless it benefited her. But now Marinette had more pressing matter than a pity little liar. She looked at Batman, then at the bat-kids and finally at Damian. They were all looking at her expectantly.

“Oh right! Sorry. I did it again…” She gave them a sheepish smile. “I am Ladybug, hero of Paris and Great Guardian of the Miraculous.” She stated. Most of the heroes (bar Damian who knew a tidy bit about the Order of the Guardians) were confused.

“Paris doesn’t have heroes. There aren’t even any supervillains there.”

“Excuse me?! How does nobody knows what is going on in Paris!” Ladybug shouted. “Ugh! Seriously?!”

Batman narrowed his eyes. “Forgive me, Ladybug, but the Justice League would know if there was a threat in Paris. So who are you really.”

“Then ask Green Lantern. He was the one who laughed at my plea for help.” She scowled, but then her demeanor changed. She calmed down and gave a sheepish smile. “But guess I should thank him. I can only dread what would happen if Superman was akumatized. Or Flash. Or anyone really. I don’t think I could win.”

Batman frowned. He would have a talk with Hal once he dealt with this. If there was really a threat like that, ignoring it was not only stupid, but dangerous. And the girl was at best Damian’s age. She was dealing with this for how long? The way she spoke suggested that she was in charge. A child fighting in a war all alone.

“For now beloved, it should be enough for you that the two of them are legally married.”

“Like hell!” Jason shouted at her, waving his gun. “They are fifteen. No court would accept this.”

“Actually,” Tim started, “under some laws they can be married. For example ‘The Personal Status Law of Muslims’ in Sudan sets the minimum age at ten.” He spoke like he was reading an encyclopedia.

“But we are somewhere between Nepal and China. I don’t think there are such laws here.” Dick said, but his confidence wavered.”

“Tt. First of why don’t anyone ask me or Marinette about our opinion?” Damian asked irritated.

“Shut up Demon Spawn. Adults are working here”

“If you don’t shut up, Todd, I will make you eat your dirty socks until you choke on the stench.” The young boy threatened. Marinette cringed at this, not really wanting to imaging such situation.

“The marriage stays.” Talia stated coldly. “Otherwise, I will not be able to stop League from going to war against Order of the Guardians.”

“You are their leader.” Batman pointed out.

“That may be correct, beloved, but I am but a regent. Only after Damian finally assumes the leadership, his word will be law. I do try to reform the league, but there is little I can do in this situation.”

“Bullshit!” Jason cursed. “You are just manipulative bitch.”

“Jason!” Dick hit the back of Red Hood’s helmet, causing him to almost tumble. “Language. There are minors in the room.”

“Don’t worry Mousier.” Marinette noted that the whole debate shifted to English. She learned it years ago when she first got interested in fashion. Some of the greatest fashion critiques wrote only in English and she didn’t want to be left behind. And other foreign critiques and designers were always translated into English. “After today, cursing is the least of my worries.” During the talk, Marinette pulled her yo-yo to check the situation in Paris. The good news were that there was no Akuma attack since her confrontation with Hawkmoth. Bad news: she was gone for over forty hours already.

“What exactly is the deal?” Bruce sighted. He loved his boys, but he could practically feel his hair graying. At least the girls didn’t go around marrying total strangers. “I want the full story Talia. Don’t even try to deceive us.”

“As you wish Beloved.” She smiled and sat back at her chair. Jason was about to hop onto where Marinette sat, but Damian ‘accidentally’ tripped him. Ladybug detransformed and Tikki flew out.

“What is this flying mouse?!” Dick screeched upon seeing a kwami.

“My name is Tikki. I am kwami, or if you prefer a small god, of creation and luck.”

“Okay… I’ve totally seen weirder.” Jason shrugged and Tim was too busy trying to plug in his pocket kettle to make himself some coffee.

“Ekhm.” Bruce faux-coughted to get their attention. “Begin Talia.”

“Many centuries ago, magic jewels bestowing extraordinary powers were created. These were... the Miraculous. Throughout history, heroes have used these jewels for the good of the human race. Order of The Guardians was responsible for protecting and distributing the Miraculous for the good of all humanity. Some time in the past, League has learned about the existence of this artifacts, more powerful than even Lazarus Pit. A secret war began between two organizations. There was a constant stalemate until the Order was mysteriously destroyed without a trace. We believed all miraculous to be lost until two years ago heroes and villains using them appeared in Paris. Initially, we ignored them, long since abandoning this war. But then, some month ago a temple of the Guardians suddenly reappeared with the Order in chaos. The League attacked, but they were strong enough to withstand the initial strike and turn it into a siege. In time, we would have succeeded and wiped them once and for all. But instead, the Guardians understood their situation and reached to us with agreement. A truce and alliance, in exchange for sparing them.”

“Yeah right! Only an idiot would take such offer!” Red Hood kept arguing with the Assassin woman.

“Or a strategist. Either way, the League wins. They no longer need to worry about threat, but this way they also get an ally.” Batman remained expressionless, but he kept sending Damian and Marinette side-glares. He wanted to know how they are coping with this. The girl was a bit shaken, but that was to be expected. He would talk more with her later. What surprised him was that Damian seemed to show concern for her. The kind he usually reserved only for his brothers and father.

“Yes. While our methods differ, the League and the Order have a common goal: prosperity for all humanity. But to ensure that neither side would go against the other, there needed to be a more tangible symbol of this union.”

“Marriage of the heirs. In the past such method was often used to symbolize an alliance. It symbolized equality of both partners and parties they represented.” Tim acted as an universal encyclopedia again, which Jason did exploit to tease him mercilessly while the others focused on the discussion.

“And let me guess” Dick frowned. “If they break the deal, it means war?”

“Yes.” Damian simply nodded. The memory of his mother’s threat hanging over the girl’s live was still fresh. Now that he got to know her better Damian was surprised that someone so brave and strong could at the same time be such emotionally unstable or open. It was almost refreshing. His family was awful with emotions and beyond that women only saw his last name. Many times he dealt with liars who tried to use him to get into the pockets of his father. But with Marinette he was sure that she was genuine with her feelings. He could not find any reason for her not to be at the moment, especially after she revealed her secret to him.

“So what? We are just supposed to roll with it? What will press think? You will give Alfred a heart attack Damian.” Dick rambled. Youngest Wayne decided to ignore him and turn to his father.

“While this might be a bit inconvenient, I believe it is the best course of action for now.” Damian spoke with cold and calculative voice.

“And what about you?” Batman turned to the girl, who for the most part lately was busy discussing something with the kwami in French. Bruce was proficient, but he was too focused on Talia and Damian.

“I… I accepted that my duty as Great Guardian comes with certain responsibilities. If this is what it takes to preserve peace, then I guess… I guess I will roll with it.” She smiled at Dick, almost daringly. Damian smiled too. Anyone who teased his brothers like that earned some points in his book. “But I can’t just leave Paris. For now it’s peaceful, but I don’t know how long it will last. And there are my parents… Oh Kwami! What will I tell my parents! Or my friends! Or my class! What if they reject me for this and I will be kicked from home, then I will not become a professional designer and I will never fulfill my dream and I will be forever lonely…” She unintentionally rambled in mixture of English and French while walking in circle and waving her hands. Damian grabbed her by her wrists to stop her before she accidentally knocked someone out and then cupped her hands with his. She was still talking random stuff, which made absolutely zero sense. Damn. She is cute when she is rambling. What!? He shut down the intrusive thoughts and focused on the girl… his wife.

“Calm down. Take deep breaths. You will not be alone.” He hoped it would work, but she barely slowed down. He sighted. Damian looked her deep in her bluebell eyes and she saw the two whirlpools of jade green he had. They were more prominent that Adrien’s. “Listen to my voice. All is going to be fine. We will not leave you.” This time, it did work and she calmed down.

Rest of the Batfam watched in shock how Damian has acted. It was most unusual for him to initiate physical contact at all, much less act this gentle. They looked at Talia, but she shrugged.

“I didn’t do anything if that’s what you think.” She smirked. “But I don’t think I needed.” Two newly-wed were just standing there, starring in each other’s eyes.

“Robin!” Batman finally got him to break out of this. “We gotta go. We will figure out exactly what to do later.”

“Fine. But we are taking Marinette with us.” Damian stubbornly stated.

“Yes. She should not stay here. And I have more questions for her.”

The flight to Paris was surprisingly fast. They traveled in perfect silence, but she felt rather uncomfortable with how everyone (bar Damian) sent her a suspicious glares. Finally, they landed around 8 PM on the rooftop of local Wayne Enterprises headquarter. She walked out first, happy to finally get back onto her home turf.

“Now there are some questions that needs to be answered.” Batman spoke.

“Uhm… Okay?”

“Stop intimidating her Father.” Damian scowled.

Bruce reluctantly nodded. “Maybe it would be the best to discuss it in private of my office.” He pressed some buttons on his glove and the bat-plane camouflage. Well, it was probably more of Bat-cargo plane since it could fit six people comfortably and still have much space free.

They got into the office, where Bruce had a total of five armchairs set around the coffee table. Immediately, Damian and Dick took two of them, leaving the head one for Bruce and one in between the two Waynes for Marinette. Tim didn’t bother trying to fight with Jason over who gets the last place, instead opting to just jump onto computer chair at the desk and activating a holo-screen. He quickly connected to Batcomputer and started to pull various files (mostly on Marinette and her close ones, but she didn’t see it).

“So tell me. What is our young couple planning to do now?” Dick teased them.

Jason was standing next to the alcohol bar, pouring several glasses of whiskey. Before Bruce could protest, he brought five and placed them on the table. His reaction to disapproving glare from the other adults was to just shrug. “What? They are married. I think underage drinking would be the least of the problems. Oh! That reminds me.” Jason grinned maliciously and pulled his wallet. He tossed something square and silver at Damian. “I don’t want any demon spawns junior running around soon.”

Once Marinette realized what was that and what was he implying she turned redder than Tim’s outfit. Damian scowled. “I have a sword on me Todd, so watch what you are saying. I might not have chosen her to be my bride, but I will not let you embarrass her just for your fun.”

Jason saw an opportunity and he would be damned if he didn’t take it. “Which sword are you talking about?”

Damian hissed like an angry cat and drawn his sword, lunging at his brother. Todd initially wanted to block the attack with his gun, but fine steel cut right through it. Seeing murder in Damian’s face he did the only plausible thing: started to run.

Marinette was inventing new shades of red with her blushing. Bruce gave her an apologetic look. “Please, don’t take his comments to heart. Jason is…” before batman could find a right word there was a sound of something crashing, followed by a painful yelp. In just a moment, Damian returned happy, his sword a bit bloody.

“Please tell me you didn’t kill him…” Dick begged. Marinette was not sure whether this was a joke or not, but the longer she stayed with the batfam, the less sane they appeared.

“Nah. But he didn’t look where he was running and toppled the stack of boxes and I ended up stabbing him in his left calf. He will live.” Damian assured them. And true to his words, a limping Jason appeared in the doors. He grabbed a fresh bottle of whiskey on his way to the armchair and slumped resigned. “Demon spawn!”

“Idiot!”

“Enough!” Bruce wanted to pull his hair out. “We came here to discuss a certain situation not stab each other. Marinette?”

“Yes monsieur Wayne?” She asked, still stunned with what happened. She had to admit Damian acter chiviliarus protecting her honor, even if his way was pretty violent.

“I was trying to ask you, what do you plan on doing now?”

“I… I don’t know. This all happened so fast…”

“It’s okay. I don’t think anyone would have a plan for such situation.” Dick reassured her

“Bruce does. It’s inside the safe in the batcave in folder labeled ‘Talia never gives up’.” Tim chimed in before returning to his research.

“Well, no one sane has such plans.” Dick tried to cheer her up. It did work even if just a bit. “But ask yourself what do you want.”

“Well… I would wish to finish my education and I always dreamed about becoming a professional fashion designer.”

“And how is this plan working so far?” Bruce inquired.

“Well, I do run a small internet boutique, where I take commissions and uncle Jagged refuses to wear anything that wasn’t personally designed by me.” She said casually.

“Wait a moment… Uncle Jagged as in Jagged Stone, the world-class rock musician?!” Tim suddenly shouted.

“Uh… yes?” She got confused

“But his only designer is the mysterious MDC! That would mean you are MDC!”

“Uh… yes?” Marinette had no idea why Tim acted like that.

“Oh god! Oh god! I got to meet MDC! Can I get your authograph?” He was suddenly next to her, holding a copy of the her first album cover she made for Jagged.

“Sure.” She signed it and handed it back. It read: ‘Good luck TD, MDC’.

Tim Fainted.

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Taglist (sorry if I missed you)

@pheonixashtree @sassakitty @unabashedbookworm @vixen-uchiha @maggiecc12 @actualdisasterwoman @tired-butterfly @shizukiryuu @floralfi @imanerddealwith @northernbluetongue @krispydefendorpolice @toodaloo-kangaroo @dast218 @bluesoulblueheart @theatreandcomicfreak @disneyfoxuniverse @mindfulmagics @alwaysnumberonetruth @nyaabinch @jardimazul @lenamau @rosep16 @dramatic-squirrel @sonif50 @daminett4life @lulutheawkwardess @weird-pale-blonde-person @mooshoon @jeminiikrystal @mochegato @moonlightstar64

#fanfic #fanfiction #crossover #marinette x damian #order of the guardians #guardian!marinette #maridami #maribat #damienette #maribat au #league of assassins #arranged marriage au #batman

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animalpetcel · 5 years ago

Text

Ideal RHATO

Okay, so I’ve done some thinking. While Red Hood and the Outlaws was an interesting concept; give Jason friends and a team of his own, get him out of the Batfam Shadow, it’s been bogged down by L*bdell spotty writing and questionable Editorial decisions. So I’ve taken the time to think of what I would personally want the Outlaws to be.

First of all, I don’t believe that Jason would be better of if he remained solo. While he does deserve a good solo run other than UtH, the idea of permanently sequestering from creating meaningful, recurring relationships with other heroes is just repulsive to me. He should be allowed to have friends and people to talk to outside of the Batfamily guys, there’s only so many adventures he can have by himself before they all start sounding the same. You could even have him gaining friends as part of his character development.

Okay! So let’s begin

In my version, the Outlaws would be a more obvious antihero team. They take cases by those who feel that regular heroes can’t help them, that they won’t go far enough to achieve justice. The Outlaws won’t kill often, but it would usually be awful criminals like drug dealers, traffickers or those in charge, but if they don’t kill, they won’t be above dissing out harsh, lasting punishments to those who cross them. There could be the possibility of them being a team looking for redemption, but I’ve never really thought about them going in that direction.

Btw: This will be a hard reboot, everything from New52 to Rebirth regarding RHATO will be completely retconned, because Lobdell wrote almost all of them and despite what people want to believe most of it is bad save for some barely passable moments

Outlaw Members

Jason Todd

Can’t have the Outlaws without their infamous leader. Like I said above, I believe that having his own team can be a good thing for Jason, he can establish a history disconnected from his history with Bruce and actually start to move on. I’d imagine him being a reluctant leader, preferring to work alone but admitting that having people to rely on has made his mission a lot easier. He’s a very driven and calculated person, and after reading Arkham Knight Genesis, I have no doubt in his leadership skills and his ability to turn a ragtag group of antiheroes into a team to be reckoned with.

Idk if I’d keep his All-Caste stuff. I know that it was probably created to give his backstory something that stands out, since he’s the third Batfam member to have the League of Assassins in his backstory and isn’t the only one that’s died before, but he barely uses the All-blades or brings up the All-Caste to the point were you can omit it and don’t really have to do that much to replace it. At this point, I’d accept Talia making him train with Brother Blood over the All-Caste.

I’d probably say that the Lazurus pit Talia used to bring him back was kinda special, giving him a minor healing factor and increasing his strength, idk, something small.

Eddie Bloomberg

(I hate Tom King and this dialogue too but I wanted a recent image of him)

Did you know that unlike Roy Harper, Eddie was actually Jason’s best friend pre-reboot? Most people don’t because DC doesn’t care about using pre-established canon or developing its less popular heroes! 🙃

Okay, I used to be a huge fan of Jason and Roy’s friendship in New52 RHATO, but then I learned that Roy was originally Dick’s friends, that his personality was dumbed down for New52, Roy actually hates mercenaries and would never become one, they only used Roy because he was more popular and that most Titan/Roy friends actually hate his New52 counterpart and friendship with Jason. While I believe that Roy and be both friendship with Dick AND Jason (but in different ways. Dick is more of a close friend while he and Jason should have a more big brother kind of relationship), I have to admit that DC dropped the ball here, and it would be easier to just scrap everything instead of trying to make it work.

Eddie’s personality is actually quite similar to New52 Roy’s, and he and Jason already have unexplored history, so switching Roy with him won’t mess anything too much.

And now, I hear you ask “Ani, what about the Outlaw’s being an antihero group? Wouldn’t that make Eddie stand out?”, and I will reply “Don’t worry, I have a plan!”

Back when Eddie first got his powers, Neron, the king of hell at the time (?) wanted Eddie to be his protege, but Eddie refuses. But what if Neron was more forceful? Eddie could be offered, now powerless again because of the events of TT (but his death is retconned to just getting badly injured), to become Neron’s protege once again. With nothing left to lose (his relationship with Blue Devil is still in the fritz, Teen Titans no longer seem to give a damn and Rose & Jaime is still off doing their own things), he takes it. I guess he’s probably look different with more of Neron’s power coursing through his veins, but the point is that Outlaws become a “Fall from grace” for him. He’s trying to still be a hero, but as Neron’s influence continues to grow, his ability to tell right from wrong gets more and more clouded.

He’s the one to approach Jason with the idea of being a team, wanting to relive the “Good Ol’ Days” when they were younger and less bogged down with personal trauma. While Jason is reluctant, he admits that since being self-exiled from the Batfamily that it’s been kinda lonely, so he agrees, but only short-term. Eddie then segways into the next member of their burgeoning group–

Rose Wilson

While pre-reboot, Rose and Jason did not have the friendliest interactions, with her holding a blade to her throat while his brothers threatened him with a crime he never committed. Post-reboot, he and Rose seem to have a more “friendlier” relationship, but the Wilson family have been rebooted at least theee times in both New52 and Rebirth, so who knows if they even still know each other now,

Rose and Eddie were very close friends in Teen Titans, and I think that getting Rose away from the madness of her family and father could be good for her character.

Eddie manages to convince her to join the “Outlaws”, but like Jason, she goes into it thinking that it’ll be a one-time thing. She cares a lot about Eddie, and sticks with the team to make sure that he’s doing alright. She probably could have an arc were Nightwing confronts her on her work in the Outlaws (since the other heroes see them as white-hat mercenaries) since he mentored her in being a hero, so it could be about dealing with what other people expect of her.

Essence

While L*bdell might be basically a shit writer, he does create interesting concepts. With a better writer, Essence could be a very interesting character, watching from the shadows and judging whether or not the Outlaws are actually “good” people, before she eventually starts taking a more active role in helping them punish criminals.

While she would at first interact solely with Jason, asking him questions about his deeds and ordering him in what direction she feels is best, she would eventually introduce herself to the rest of the group. I think she’d get along best with Komand’r, while the others might test her absolutism, Black-And-White morality a bit.

Rankorr (Jack Moore)

I know that there’s some people who want Guy Gardner to be Jason’s lantern, but what about a lantern who is close to Jason in age and actually fits the Outlaw theme?

Jack Moore is a Red Lantern, not only a Red Lantern, but the first human lantern who is also the first Red Lantern to be capable of creating constructs. He struggles with his rage, and deep down, he wants to enjoy a normal life on earth.

Maybe after Red Lantern (retconning Lobo or if not, he’s brought back using Red Lantern Blood Magic), he decides that the RL’s are a bit too cult-like for him and tries to lay low on Earth, finishing his literature degree and opening up a small bookstore somewhere in London. He’s close with Guy, but still can’t/refuses to let go of his rage, so Jack is still a RL

Of course, keeping his rage at bay is hard work, and after witnessing police brutality one more time, he loses control.

The Outlaws were hired by the family of the victim to make the officers see justice, but after seeing Jack work, they realize that this might be their easiest case yet.

Afterwards, Jack tries to downplay the entire thing (before resorting to threats when the Outlaws won’t listen), but Jason eventually convinced him that his talents would be wasted just being a civilian (and that his rage will only get worse if he continues to just let it boil without an “outlet”) so he joins the team

Blackfire

I’ve read Komand’r’s backstory, I know how bad it looks. However, in a medium where retcons and reimaginings are features instead of bugs (and can benefit a character’s story if done right), I really think it could be possible to make her work.

After reading New52 RHATO, I began thinking that it could be so much better if not only Eddie took Roy’s spot, but also if Komand’r took Starfire’s, since I feel like she had more potential beyond “Kori’s evil disabled sister”, “War Criminal” and “Struggling queen of Tamaran”

First, I’d change her pre-reboot backstory so instead of taking over the Gordanians, she is instead captured by them after Starfire frees her from the Psions (Komand’r still hates her sister and refuses to follow her). Through her clever mind and manipulations, she manages to earn favor with Lord Damyn, feigning romantic interest. Of course, given Komand’r’s nature, she ends up killing and replacing him, but her rule doesn’t go over well and she is again recaptured, but this time she’s brought to Earth.

Realizing that she’s now trapped on the planet whete her sister has become a successful and popular hero, Komand’r is at first angry, and then conspires to free herself and take revenge on her sister (who she still blames for everything despite that not being the case).

The Outlaws bust the alien trafficking ring, and Komand’r, seeing her chance, decides to show off and make nice with them to eventually use them for her revenge.

She finds Eddie and Rankorr easy to manipulate, but she bumps Heads with Jason whenever she tries to take his role as leader away from him and finds Rose’s mind to be “weak”. Overtime however, she bonds with Jason over feeling inferior to their siblings, realizes that her anger shares Rankorr’s intensity, and grows a genuine friendship with Rose and Eddie

Oh yeah, and maybe she tries to make things right with Kori

Artemis Grace

What would the Outlaws be without the greatest Amazon to have ever lived? Nothing, that’s for sure.

While I don’t agree with Jaytemis (at least not yet), I have to admit that Jason would be a fool not to like her. She’s a cool, confident character with a lot of interesting lore behind her.

Her joining will probably be pretty close to canon. The Outlaws are tasked with going after Black Mask, and Jason decides to go undercover, as the Red Hood still has his fingers in various criminal pies. While investigating, he runs into Artemis, who is looking for the Bow of Ra, and rest is history.

I feel like she’ll get along really well with Rose and Komand’r and maybe she’ll date one. She’ll definitely view Eddie a bit dismissively, and she isn’t a huge fan of demons. Rankorr would probably come off as stuck up to her.

Bizarro

Anyone who knows me will know that I’m am not a huge fan of Bizarro clones. I consider them to be an overused concept (that sometimes feels as if it relies on gene superiority, but idk if I’ll ever fully process my dislike for them), and the fact that as the time I’m writing this, there are at least four currently in continuity does not enamor me with the concept more.

However, after re-reading RHATO a few times, I’ll admit that the Outlaws’ Bizarro has grown on me. Since he already kinda has a unique name (Bizz), all I think he needs is a more visually distinct costume (doesn’t even have to directly reference Superman, but I can go 50/50 on the backwards “S”)

The Outlaws getting Bizz is exactly the same as canon. I’d imagine that he and Eddie would be as close as brothers. While Rankorr might find Bizz’s way of thinking and speaking to be annoying, I’d think that Rankorr will eventually warm up to him and probably teach him how to read and help Artemis teach him. Komand’r and Rose will probably be less receptive to him, but who knows

August Heart

I’m a Godspeed fan first and human second, we’ve been knew.

In all seriousness, Godspeed is the perfect Rebirth era character for RHATO and the fact that he and Jason still haven’t met is why DC doesn’t have any rights.

Okay okay, but he’s honestly a perfect fit. Like Jason, he also kills when dealing with crimes, but he isn’t so good and knowing who’s guilty and who isn’t just yet.

This will probably be after Death of the Speedforce, with August finally making things right with Barry, but still not forgiving himself for everything that happened. Deciding to self-exile himself rather than go back to Iron Heights, August travels, trying to figure out what do to do next, trying to follow Barry’s rules (which he finds to be very wishy-washy) to the best of his ability.

Eventually, he learns that Black Hole is still running, and against his better instincts, he goes after them.

His trail of lightning destruction catches the eye of the Outlaws.

Barry, realizing that his best-friend might need someone who can actually be there all the time to help reign him in, Barry goes to the Outlaws and asks them if they can help him once they catch up to him

They do in the form of offering a spot on the team.

August is very self-assured (even if it is hiding a softer, more emotional center), but has proven to be able to work with others, so I can see the other Outlaws coming to like him. They might find him a little cocky/early to jump the gun, but still a trusted and valued member of the team.

Since every Robin has their own flash, it only makes sense to finally give Jason (and have them date) a speedster of his own, and it should be someone who fits his morals, and who else could Then the speedster fans literally call “The Red Hood of the Flashfam”?

Final Thoughts

Other possible members I would consider/accept are

Eradicator Superman

Koryak

Vanessa Kapatelis/Silver Swan lll

Simon Amal (Crux)

Danny Chase

Clone!Roy Harper

Connor Hawke

Orm Marvius

Man O’ War

Lagoon Boy

Scarlet

Zachary Zatara

Thomas Merlyn

Ragman

Bleez

Walter West

Even with a cast as sizable as the one I just listed, with a good enough writer, there could still a few minor side characters. I would personally want the them to be

Scarlet: Jason’s former sidekick. She could be either a civilian who he talks to get experience some normalcy or the leader of her own version of the Outlaws made of up the Generation Outlaws we meet in RHATO #37-40. Either way, it could contrast with Bruce and the way he (mis)treats his own sidekicks and family

Zachary Zatara: Eddie’s old friend who helped him get his devil powers. Zachary would definitely be worried over Eddie once again accepting Neron’s power and will want to try to help. Whether he suceeds or not will depend if the writers want to go in that direction

Isabel Ardila: She’s a nothing character, but there’s a small chance that with a better writer, she might gain an interesting personality or an actual purpose in RHATO

Talia Al Ghul: before the reboot, Talia was Jason’s mentor figure and even gave him a cool dagger. It would be so cool if we can bring that back and erase Morrison’s problematic charactization of her. Maybe the dagger she gives Jason could be an All-Blade or smth. They’d definitely take a few cases from her however

Batfam, Titans and respective groups: it would have to happen eventually. It could lead to some interesting, angst filled conversations. And who knows, maybe they’ll actually make progress with their issues

But this post has gone on long enough. I just really wanted to talk a bit about my ideal Outlaws team that I will never see anywhere except for my dreams because mass media hates me and DC still thinks that Lobdell deserves to write Jason 😔😭

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terresdebrumestories · 4 years ago

Text

One night only

FANDOM: DCEU, but I guess more specifically BVS. SERIES: - RATING: Explicit for safety. WORDCOUNT: 7 333 words PAIRING(S): Superbat CHARACTER(S): Bruce Wayne & Kal-El GENRE: Brief encounters of the sexy kind. One night stands. TRIGGER WARNING(S): None that I’m aware of, but it does contain sex and the vaaaaguest hint of strength kink. Also touch!starved Bruce. SUMMARY:

Bruce crashes on an unknown planet as he returns from a League-related mission. Fortunately for him, he manages to survive the accident with nothing more than big bruises to show for it. Even more fortunately, he finds himself rescued by the hottest alien he's met so far.

OR: Bruce Wayne rescued by beefy alien.

DEDICATION(S): To obviously, who provided the very sexy prompt for this fic, and also to @lorata, who handled the SPAG betaing of this. I, sleep deprived and unused to GDocs on mobile, may have clicked on the “refuse” button on a couple of corrections so assume any typo left is my fault :P NOTE(S): I don’t know why I was convinced my posting date was July 18th, but I was, which means that the final version of it got finished at 11pm on the 17th, which was a bit of a cardio workout. Thank fuck for timezones giving Lora enough time to hunt my typos without too much pressure :P

ALSO AVAILABLE ON AO3

The cockpit almost looks like a Christmas tree: it blinks in increasingly bright and urgent colors, the high-pitched beep of panicking instruments loud enough to drown Bruce’s thoughts as the jet plummets toward the ground. There are interminable seconds of falling, Bruce’s soul scrambling to think of Alfred, Dick Jason MomDad—

Lead on his eyelids, a ton each at the very least. When he finally maneuvers them to half-mast the light around him is loud enough to hurt. He closes his eyes. Tries again. The bright gold echoes like a bellow between his ears. Wince. Persevere. The world around is too much and too little, loud light and bright noises. He blinks and blinks and blinks until something warm licks at him, and then another noise, salt in the air and oh, Alfred, I really messed it up this—

Blue, blue, blue, blue, the world moving—a voice above, deep and tense, dark fringe over a frown…Jas—

When Bruce wakes up for the third time, there is something floating above him. An oblong shape, dark against the light, and close enough to touch if Bruce’s arm had any strength left in it. It remains there for a while, trembling until Bruce’s eyes finally shape it back into a face. It seems calm for now, not attacking or moving in a suspicious way, but it does stay where looking at it makes Bruce’s eyes water, so it’s probably best not to discount the risk of hosni—hossi—ill intent. Bruce blinks, slow and sluggish, while the head moves and melts into some kind of silhouette.

Bit by bit, the light grows quieter, and Bruce sighs, squinting to make out limb-like shapes—only four, thank fuck—as the presumed-head leans down—and then recoils as Bruce’s hand strikes at it...or, well. Tries to. It gets stopped halfway through, easy as breathing—Bruce winces, breathes in. Blinks until the shape moves around him, the hold on his wrist firm but not painful. Once it’s out of the backlight, the head looks human enough: curly black hair, eyes just a shade too blue to feel real. The kind of jawline you could sharpen a battarang with.

Bruce blinks harder and, in a bout of stupidity barely excusable even in his state, he glances down—wool-like garment, reminiscent of a sweater, but close-fitting enough to let him know he wouldn’t blush at having abs like that—and says:

“I always thought I’d go to Hell.”

The world fades again.

The fourth time Bruce wakes up feels like it’s the one that’s going to stick. He’s healed up enough to remember what he said last, for one, and while that’s embarrassing enough to make him groan—religion, really Bruce?—it’s at least a sign of progress. For two: fucking ouch.

It’s a good thing that he can feel the hurt. Bodies that don’t feel it are either traumatized or permanently damaged, or both. Still, if there is a superior entity somewhere, Bruce is determined to make them pay for the fucking nervous system. Aside from his feet, pretty much everything hurts right now—nothing Bruce isn’t used to, though. Healing bruises, decades-old stab wound acting up in humid weather...all in a day’s work for Batman, really, so much as he dislikes the sensation it really isn’t that hard to find a semi vertical surface to prop himself against. The move makes his head swim, predictably, but at least now he can see the person-shaped thing move around when it comes back to the currently-empty cave. If it comes back.

Rather than sit and wait for an answer on that question, which could keep him there a long time, Bruce gives his nausea enough time to subside—he is pushing fifty there, and surprisingly interested on keeping going—swallows around his cardboard-thick tongue, and sets about slowly taking stock of his surroundings.

He can feel rough stone behind his back. There’s another natural wall at his front. Stalactites line the stone ceiling and, to Bruce’s right, slope down until they meet the ground with only a narrow conduit squirreling away under the bedrock. No exit there. Turning back to the left, Bruce discovers the cave widens for about fifteen, maybe twenty feet—depth perception: still AWOL—until wet-dark stone gives way to the sun-bleached gray of fist-sized pebbles and the ruckus of them rolling through the waves. The sea beyond offers a dull brown color tinged with silver, shining under the sleek pewter of the sky.

Bruce thinks, unhelpfully, of Gotham.

He doesn’t dwell on it too much: he’s unbound and, as far as he can tell, alone in the cave. If he’s going to figure a way out of here, now is the ideal moment, though he knows better than to make it too obvious he knows that, just in case there’s some surveillance he hasn’t found yet. There’s no fire, but the air isn’t cold, and when he looks down at himself he realizes there’s a blanket draped over the Kevlar that means he won’t be catching a cold just yet. It also means that whatever found him either has no malicious intent towards him or is very interested in pretending it doesn’t.

Obviously, he doesn’t trust the thing—person? Alien, definitely—that got him here. He’s lived through more than his fair share of people treating him exceedingly well for nefarious reasons, both as Batman and as Bruce; he’s not about to fall for it. Every second he pretends to, however, is more time to recover and plan his escape. It is with that certitude in mind that Bruce leans back against the stone and, keeping his ears focused on the sounds around him, closes his eyes to fake sleep.

He nearly curses when he wakes up to the sound of footsteps on rocks. Obviously, he’s well trained enough to reign the impulse in, but he’s got more than enough brainpower to recriminate himself while he checks out the entrance of the cave. It’s dark by now, which, assuming the days here are roughly the same as Earth’s, means several hours have passed, during which anything could have happened. Fuck. If Alfred learns about this, Bruce will never hear the end of it… At least he’s still up against the wall. Nothing’s coming at him from behind.

The alien doesn’t attack, though. It walks into the cave, familiarly bipedal, dressed disturbingly like the upscale version of a Hollywood fisherman—the sweater even sports a pattern reminiscent of a cable-knit. When it’s done setting up a rough circle of stone near Bruce—with its back to him! If he were at full capacity, that alien wouldn’t stand a chance—and dumping wood into it, it busies itself lighting a fire. Only when it’s done and the first licks of warmth reach Bruce does it turn around.

Bruce, shamefully caught with his eyes open, allows himself to swear internally. An alien it might be, but if Bruce weren’t profoundly aware of this fact it could have passed for a human easily: aside from the too-blue eyes, there’s nothing to make the alien stand out in a crowd. Or, well. There is, but GQ models aren’t generally considered dangers to the general population...although judging from the way his guts twist when the alien smiles at him, right now Bruce is rather inclined to review that particular assessment.

Come on, Batman. Get a grip.

The alien, blatantly oblivious to Bruce’s internal battle against his...heart...approaches him with an easy smile and a soft voice, moving slowly, like it’s trying to calm a spooked animal. It makes Bruce want to show his teeth, but considering he’s not exactly in a state to follow up on the threat if the alien reacts aggressively, he decides against it. He does grunt though, just enough to show his displeasure at his current predicament, low enough that it doesn’t fall into outright aggression. Not that it matters: genuine or faked, the alien’s current persona seems too cheerful to mind, and it smiles as it speaks.

At least, it sounds like there are words in its voice. Bruce’s Green Lanterns-issued translator is on the fritz, though: all he can do is assume the emotion projected actually is relief, closely followed by concern. It’s...not often, that Bruce is confronted with something like that after an injury. Neither Dick nor—Dick has always been the type to joke, and English blood means Alfred’s physical expressions of concern come in the form of tea and a duster served with the stiffest upper lip on the planet. To be the focus of eyes that blue, with that sincere-looking an expression on that face with that jawline is...Bruce swallows. Hard.

The alien says something else that Bruce, of course, doesn’t understand, and then it turns away to reach inside its bag and produce something round, purple and leathery looking. It might be a gourd or a fruit, Bruce has no way to know. He is parched though, and so he tries to dip down for a drink.

What happens instead is a hand on his shoulder, the pressure dulled by the suit, but there enough to realize he couldn’t easily get out from under it. Slowly, gently, Bruce is pushed back against the rock, intense blue eyes crinkling with a smile that, on a human, Bruce would almost describe as apologetic. One of the alien’s hands comes up to tip Bruce’s head back, fingertips lighting long lines of fire against his throat, catching his breath right in the middle of his chest until he’s tensing without meaning to. Bruce can still feel the path of those fingers against his skin, the phantom sensation pulling at his attention even as the alien’s other hand raises the purple sphere above his head. Bruce’s hand snaps up, catching on a wrist. There is a pause, as if the alien had sensed Bruce’s brief burst of fear through his touch—what if the liquid inside is acid? What if he’s about to be bludgeoned to death? —until their eyes meet. Something shifts in the alien’s face, and he stands up straighter somehow, resumes his movement with a slow grace that somehow makes Bruce want to get up on his knees. He allows the grip of his fingers to soften, thumb resting on the alien’s pulse point—it feels fast, under the thin skin—and watches the purple thing rise above his head.

It pauses right above Bruce’s face, the alien looking at him with something almost like a question in his eyes. Bruce meets his eyes head on, wishing he could think of it as defiance. Then, with his chest heaving and his body straining in the confines of his suit, Bruce tips his head back and opens his mouth.

The alien gasps when the juice—it’s too sweet to be water, despite the clear color—falls into Bruce’s mouth, the blood in his wrist speeding up. Lowering his head a fraction, Bruce meets his gaze again—or tries to. A few drops made their way past Bruce’s lower lips, dribbling down his chin and along his throat, and the alien is clearly too caught in tracking their path to meet Bruce’s gaze. He licks his lips, making Bruce shiver, and just when Bruce is starting to consider releasing the moan bubbling inside his chest, the alien takes the purple thing—the fruit? —away.

Juice splashes on the bridge of Bruce’s nose and he splutters, moment broken and yet still out of breath, fingers still clasped around a wide wrist. He takes his hand away, acutely aware of all the places where it’s not touching skin anymore, and breathes in deep, trying to calm his heart rate as fast as possible while the alien clears his throat and tosses the empty fruit shell away into the water.

He speaks again then, motioning upward with his hand, and although he’s clearly trying to look casual there is a faint dusting of pink over his cheekbones. Given the circumstances, Bruce decides to go ahead and provisionally interpret it as having the same meaning as on Earth. Once that’s done, he tries to follow the other man’s request: he barely makes it to his knees before he topples over, legs reduced to jelly despite his clear mind. For a moment, his rescuer—for lack of a better word—seems almost disappointed. Then he speaks again, slow and soothing, as he steps closer with his arms extended.

Bruce is caught in a bride’s carry before he can even attempt to protest.

For one hysterical second, Bruce’s mind provides an image of Alfred’s—or anyone from the league’s—face should he find out about this. It is mortifying and he vows to take the incident to his grave—but the thought only lasts for that: one second. Right after that, Bruce finally catches up with the fact that his companion is showing no strain whatsoever while carrying him and his thirty pounds of armor and— oh come on Batman, get a grip.

Batman does not get a grip. In fact Batman, who is feeling decidedly less Batmany than usual, slowly unravels as his companion carries him out of the cave and into the open air, the smell of clean seafoam assaulting Bruce’s nostrils while a gentle breeze blows the occasional droplets onto his cheeks. For lack of a more dignified solution Bruce lets himself be carried out to the beach, the view swiftly blocked by a tall cliff of white stone fringed with green at the top, fist-sized gravel crunching under the alien’s feet. There’s a short climb up a gentle slope to a wooden platform, and then Bruce watches as the beach grows smaller under them. The ocean, of course, is endless, but a look to their left reveals a badly damaged piece of rock, deep gouges in the ground leading the eyes to a short stripe of bent metal. There go Bruce’s hope of refurbishing the ship and using it to get off planet. Sure, Bruce is extremely lucky to even be alive right now, let alone as unscathed as he is, but even Batman is allowed a bit of hope now and then. As a treat.

Well, no use crying over spilt milk—or sulking about being stuck on an alien planet without a reasonable means of transportation. Bruce keeps looking. To the right, as far as he can see, is a forest. It rises from the ground in bushes and tall grasses at first, quickly shooting to the sky with ever taller trees that, aside from the height, wouldn’t look all that out of place in the English countryside.

Behind him—under him? Bruce is going to have to figure the logistics of this at some point—Bruce’s companion takes a turn toward the forest as soon as they reach the top of the cliff, and as they come close Bruce finally notices it. It being a tall dome-like structure made of wood and what he can only assume is something similar to glass. It rises out of the ground as if grown there, slender limbs turned to the sky in elaborate latticework, a band of colored windows circling the dome about halfway through.

The whole thing looks airy, the kind of place designed to create refreshing breezes and cool shades, which makes it look entirely incongruous in an environment where cold and damp seems to be the motto. Still, odd choices or no, there’s something appealing about the building. It feels...well, structurally, it is leaning more into something like the Taj-Mahal, which is impressive considering a touch reveals it is made of live wood. Yet as Bruce is carried outside and discovers the furniture—rich embroidered carpets of wool thick enough he could fall asleep there, luxurious piles of cushions in red and blues with the occasional gold accent—he can’t help but feel a little like he’s just entered a large, very elaborate treehouse. Everything, from the sitting space to what seems to be a cooking area to the central staircase—and how did Bruce not see any of that through the windows? He’d love to ask some technical questions about it—feels like it wants Bruce to lie back and relax, maybe even fall asleep. God, this house could probably have entire conversations on this very topic with Alfred—and Bruce is just about exhausted enough to let it.

The air inside is warm but not stifling, like a windy summer day: it chases the chill out of Bruce’s limbs, warms him up from the inside as he’s settled down on a cushion even he has to describe as ridiculously large. Bruce...kind of wants to lean into it. Sure, there’s still a chance he’s about to be hurt, but also it’s not like his host is lacking in strength. Why bother waiting when all the power is on your side? It seems probable that the alien is either genuinely uninterested in hurting Bruce, or playing the long con. Either way, there’s no reason for Bruce not to take the opportunity to rest a little.

“You can lean back, you know.”

Bruce blinks as the gentle golden glow fades from the windows, the seaside landscape once more unobstructed as he looks ahead of himself. It takes some effort to twist around enough to see his host, but when he does it’s—well. It’s worth it. The man has changed out of his Englishman costume and into a pale gold tunic that hugs both his arms and his chest before loosening just a little around the waist and falling past his hips down to his knees. Bruce notices the bottom of fitted crimson pants hugging absolutely lovely calves, and swallows before he asks:

“Is the house translating?”

“Yes,” the alien says with a wide grin. “I am quite relieved that it could do anything for us: you do not seem to hail from a well-known region of the universe.”

“You sound extremely formal,” Bruce remarks without thinking, and swallows again when his host laughs:

“Not to my ears, I assure you. I suppose, however, that where outdated technology is concerned, we had better be grateful we understand each other at all.”

Bruce inclines his head in acquiescence. Sure, he’d like the comfort of his usual translator better than having to deal with the whole house filling with his host’s words—if not his voice—but the perceptible delay between his host’s voice and the house’s isn’t enough to make him wish for the alternative of not being able to communicate at all. Even if going back to that after using the Lanterns’ translators feels a bit like trying to stream a movie with a poor internet connection.

“I guess you’re right,” he agrees. Then, because his mask was already lost in the sea and this is an alien, anyway, he adds: “I’m B.”

“Bee?” his host answers, evidently testing the sound. “That is an unexpected name. Still, I suppose different worlds have different tastes. You may call me Kal.”

Bruce pauses, eyes narrowing.

“Oh,” Kal says, as if guessing what Bruce is thinking, “I was not—names where I’m from are quite...long. Much longer than yours. ‘Kal’ is only a diminutive.”

“How long is ‘long’?” Bruce asks, eyebrows raised.

In front of him, Kal blushes, and Bruce refuses to admit it’s not exactly an unappealing sight.

“Well, they build up with our history,” Kal explains, still tinged pink but relaxing enough to step closer and sit next to Bruce on his humongous, satiny cushion. “As a man of thirty-five who has not been idle, mine has grown quite long… I am not reluctant to share it, Bee. I am merely aware that many cultures do not share our patience for it.”

“Mmmh,” Bruce says.

It sounds fair enough.

“Now that is sorted out,” Kal asks after watching Bruce’s lips a few seconds too long, “may I interest you in a change of clothing? I assume your uniform is meant to protect you, but it hardly looks comfortable and it seems to me like your body could use something softer to rest in.”

“I have to get off this planet,” Bruce replies.

Kal nods, accommodating, and leans back against the cushions. It’s Bruce’s imagination that provides the sensation of their arms brushing, the warmth of skin on skin—the batsuit won’t allow for anything less than a full punch to be felt. That knowledge doesn’t change anything to the sensation, though, and Bruce shivers with it, all his senses focusing on the area entirely against his will. His brain, for some reason, reminds him that it’s been at least ten years since he stopped playing the incorrigible playboy and sex-enthusiast.

“This is a vacation moon,” Kal says, voice perfectly even despite the heat creeping up Bruce’s neck. “There are daily shuttles for arrival and departures. When the next one arrives tomorrow morning, I can ask them to send you to the nearest Green Lanterns’ outpost, and from there you should have very little trouble going back to….”

“Earth,” Bruce supplies, and winces when that causes Kal’s eyes to widen.

“I have heard of this planet! Some of the more famous Green Lanterns hailed from your world and—ah. Forgive me, I can see you do not wish to be questioned. That is fair, you must still be quite tired from your ordeal.”

Bruce nods, careful not to look too relieved at the prospect. He is tired though. Not as much as he should be by any right, but enough that the prospect of having to balance and measure what he said about Earth to guard it against potentially hostile aliens sounds like more trouble than it’s worth.

“Well, then,” Kal says, still smiling, like nothing Bruce says can possibly alter his good mood. “Shall I renew my offer of clean clothes then? I promise not to touch or alter your belongings in any way. And after that, perhaps a light supper, and then to bed.”

Bruce swallows. Kal, it’s already been established, is not hard on the eyes. At all. He’s tall and broad shouldered, and in a human he’d be pretty much exactly Bruce’s preferred type. As an alien, he still is, but then there’s also the strength, and the entirely unembarrassed curiosity, and the possibilities provided with potentially different anatomies that Bruce has never considered before in his life but now...now Bruce is wondering if it’s a good idea to dress himself in loose fabric.

Then Kal’s eyes catch his, and Bruce decides if he’s only going to spend one night here and never see the guy again, he might as well enjoy it. He says yes, and keeps a very close eye on the way Kal’s ass pushes against his tunic as he gets up, and then retreats toward the stairs.

Of course, Bruce should know better than to let himself get distracted, let alone so easily. He’s still technically on a mission—well, on his way back from a mission—and if anyone on Earth realizes what transpired here, even if nothing else happens, he will absolutely never ever hear the end of it. Ever. And yet….

Well, frankly, maybe Bruce is just getting old, but he thinks he’s allowed to indulge himself here. He’s recovering from injuries that are frankly ridiculously light for the kind of accident he was in, he’s on an unknown planet light years away from home, his transportation is most likely assured—unless he’s really losing it and missing red flags in Kal’s behavior—and he hasn’t had sex in over eight years. He gets to indulge a little. It’s only one night.

“I took the liberty of picking night clothing as well,” Kal calls after a few moments, appearing at the top of the spiral stairs. From below, it looked like the bedroom was empty the whole time, which Bruce must admit is a neat trick. “I figured you would wish to change before retiring for the night.”

Bruce, clinging to the last of his fraying dignity—he’s indulging, that doesn’t mean he has to be proud about it—manages to hum instead of saying something that could be misconstrued as flirting, but Kal doesn’t seem to mind. He says something about preparing the meal while Bruce changes and ‘do not worry, I shan’t be looking your way’, and then leaves Bruce alone.

Peeling himself out of the suit takes more effort than Bruce would like, but it’s also far from the hardest he’s had it, and he gets re-dressed in a decent amount of time. By then, his legs feel less like jelly, and he’s actually able to sit up and scoot on the ground to gather his things in a manageable pile and set them aside in a corner where they should, hopefully, not be disturbed.

After a while, Kal reemerges from the cooking area with a large tray filled with over a dozen bowls of colorful meats and fruits, several things that look like root vegetables, and even a bowl of something that could be a sort of love-child of wheat and rice. It looks both perplexing—Bruce has never had a purple savory dish before—and familiar, which is probably why his hands twitch toward the food before he can remember to ask:

“Anything in particular to eat with?”

“Merely your fingers,” Kal says, rinsing his hands in a silver dish of lightly fragranced water. “Do clean them beforehand, however.”

Bruce makes sure to give him a “duh” look as he reaches for the dish and rinses his own fingers.

“According to the available information, these should be safe for you to consume,” Kal says, grabbing what looks like a grape but turns out, upon tasting, to be a piece of meat.

“Unlike that purple thing before?” Bruce asks, the back of his neck heating up when he thinks back on their interactions in the cave.

“The shell is dangerous,” Kal agrees, “and I didn’t have any way to explain. Doing the pouring myself seemed to be the safest option.”

“I assume you won’t be feeding me for this meal then,” Bruce says.

Then gives himself a mental slap in the face because, really? For anyone else, that would be one thing, but Bruce is, without false modesty, one of the best martial artists on Earth, an honors graduate from the best university the USA have to offer, and the fucking Batman...and there he is, making an ass out of himself just because it’s been a while since he got sexed up and he just happened to fall in the backyard of the most fuckable alien in the universe. Un-fucking-believable.

Kal, either oblivious or going for coy, gives him an amused smile and nothing else, although he does readjust his position until one of his knees points to Bruce, the other leg extended on the other side in a way that must stretch the crotch of his pants under the pooling fabric of his tunic. Bruce is kind of glad for his own, vivid-red flap of fabric at the moment.

“So,” he asks after he’s eaten enough to settle the growl of his stomach, “where are we exactly? You mentioned this was a vacation moon.”

“Indeed. Cidaris orbits around an uninhabitable planet, yet somehow retained an atmosphere for an extremely long amount of time. Kryptonian architects started thinking of kryptoforming it a few centuries ago… It has been a favored vacation post for several decades, now.”

“Are you Kryptonian?”

“I am,” Kal replies, a piece of the grape-like meat resting against his lower lip and staining it purple. “Although I don’t suppose someone whose family possesses as much as mine does can fairly call himself an ordinary one.”

Oh god. He’s a rich alien—for all Bruce knows, he could be a real life, genuine Brucie Wayne with the wits to match, and he sounds like he’s just escaped a Ren Faire. And the worst of it all is, none of that has any dampening effect on the burst of heat that goes through Bruce when their knees brush. There are times when Bruce hardly even recognizes himself.

“What is your home like?”

Bruce throws Kal a look, but he neither looks nor feels like he’s trying to wriggle information out of Bruce...and even if he were, it’s not like he can’t answer without giving away vital information about Earth. He takes a look around before he answers though: the tall, organic and yet intricately carved arches of smooth wood, the invisible shields that leave the eyes free to roam over the infinity of the ocean and a truly spectacular sunset. The quiet, the scent of salt in the air—the kind of atmosphere that makes you want to breathe deeper but quieter, as if it stole all the stress from your lungs and replaced it with a good mouthful of rest.

“Not like this,” Bruce says to start with. “It’s a lot more angular. The buildings aren’t see-through, and you can’t see the stars at night. It’s...an old city. A wounded city. Frankly, with all the terrible things people do to it and in it, it’s probably a miracle it’s still standing.”

That’s...a staggering understatement, Bruce knows. But on the other hand: how do you even begin to explain Gotham to an alien? People who live less than fifty miles outside of it have enough of a hard time trying to grasp its essence as it is—they think it’s a blight on an otherwise very fine state...which, to be fair, it is. In some ways. That’s the easy part, though.

The hard part is trying to explain all the good side, like diamonds in the mud. The way so many people try to turn things around still, in little ways—insignificant ways, but also in the ways that matter most. How do you explain the dirty alleys with their gang fights and their kids laughing around firecrackers in summer? There are no words to convey all of that in a way that even begins to scratch the surface of what the city is—of what it means to Bruce. He knows: he’s tried. Even Dick never quite seemed to get it though—not enough to stay, at any rate. The only one who came close was—Bruce doesn’t have the words to explain it.

And yet, something must show on his face: by his side, still sprawling over the cushion like a particularly content cat, Kal smiles.

“And yet, you would not leave it behind.”

“Never in my life,” Bruce replies.

There’s something trying to creep in his throat as he speaks, and he manages to tamp it down but not before it pokes at his chest in a way he’s wholly unfamiliar with. it’s such a simple statement, and yet somehow, it’s something even his closest friends—inasmuch as he has any—have rarely heard from him, if at all. It’s an unexpected thing to find himself saying to a one-night stand, and Bruce would sigh if he hadn’t accepted the most likely outcome of the evening already.

“If this is a vacation moon,” he asks in a bit to shift the attention, “how come you’re here alone?”

Kal stiffens, and Bruce...deliberately doesn’t wince. He can’t truthfully claim that he hadn’t expected a sensitive topic, but Kal was more than polite about Gotham when, Bruce is very aware, it would have been easy for him to be less than polite about it. It seems...petty, in retrospect, to answer that with a barb.

“In the interest of not spoiling the good mood,” Kal replies with forced levity, “I will say that I was in need of some personal space, and ask that you allow me to stop there.”

Bruce nods. Even if he disagreed, he’s got a sneaking suspicion it wouldn’t be all that hard for Kal to overpower him. The thought may leave him a little warmer in the neck than he’s ready to admit, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to get rude about it. The real surprise, however, comes when Bruce hears himself ask:

“Would you like me to give you some?”

“Space?” Kal asks. He laughs, incredulous, when Bruce nods; the shift of his body making them sink closer into the dip of the cushion. “And waste all the good works of physics when I could just as easily have brought you to a bench?”

Bruce snorts, but it comes out short, almost surprised. He hadn’t realized he’d leaned in too, hadn’t realized how close they were to touching, and now his elbow is resting against Kal’s shoulder and even through the fabric it feels like that’s setting his entire torso on fire, the warmth of it slowly baking up his arm, his shoulder, his neck, until every breath of air on exposed skin feels like a caress. Bruce breathes in, deliberately slow, and then allows himself to sink back, just a little. He does, after all, know how to do this.

“You’re right,” he says, faux-nonchalant, “let’s not be rude.”

Kal smiles, bright and brilliant in a way Bruce has only ever seen on Diana before—it’s the kind of smile you don’t often see on adults, and it’s all the more precious for it. Not that Bruce would ever admit it. Still, combined with Kal’s jawline, the blue of his eyes, the circumstances...Bruce leans in closer, half expecting another witty exchange. Kal responds in kind instead and, after a heartbeat’s pause, presses their mouths together. Part of Bruce, up until then, had been expecting something a little different from the usual, but Kal’s mouth has a regular mouth taste, with a thin echo of that purple meat hidden in the flavor. Other than that, and the acute awareness of the damage he could inflict with those teeth of his, it’s no different from kissing a nice, smiley, really good looking human.

It has been roughly a decade since the last time Bruce indulged, though, and he is begrudgingly forced to admit that maybe that’s what makes it so intense, lips so sensitive they almost hurt with it, his chest heaving just from that one point of contact, the rest of his body tensing not to go overboard right away. Around them the lights dim a little, highlighting the transparency of the walls, and the heat spreads from Bruce’s head to his chest, to his groin, and every other extremity he has.

With a sigh, he goes back to kissing Kal, one hand coming up to push at his shoulder...and be met with resistance. He pulls back, body cooling fast enough to feel cold, and asks:

“Did I misinterpret?”

“Not at all,” Kal replies with a satisfied smile and a shrug. “I merely had a different image of the proceedings and failed to consider you might have your own opinion on the matter.”

“I can’t fucking believe I’m about to sleep with a guy who speaks like he’s in a Jane Austen space novel,” Bruce mutters.

If it wasn’t enough to stop him before, though, it’s certainly not enough to stop him now.

“What did you have in mind?”

Kal’s grin turns impish and, in the blink of an eye, he’s on his knees and hovering over Bruce’s lap.

“Do feel free to stop me at any time,” he says. “Things are so much better when both parties feel properly enthusiastic.”

Bruce kisses Kal again as a way to make him stop talking—he does have limits—and it works perfectly except for the part where it sets his skin ablaze again. He doesn’t complain about it though: he may be sensitive to the point of near pain, but he has no intention of giving up on the feeling, and revels in the intensity of it, the feather-light feel of Kal’s fingers against his wrists, Kal’s lips on his neck, Kal’s knees around his thighs.

Bruce sighs when he’s pushed down on the bed, and pushes his hips and erection up against Kal’s ass when he is given a few seconds to object. From there, the heavy weight of another body settles over him, and he pushes up again—the friction against Kal’s clad crotch sends sparks flying all through Bruce’s nervous system, pulling every hair on his body to stand as goosebumps overtake him before there’s even been a move made towards removing his shirt. Bruce really needs to do this more often.

He’s distracted from the thought when, after some awkward maneuvering that almost has them toppling to the side, Kal finally manages to get his hands under Bruce’s tunic and on his waist, barely waiting long enough to get consent before he pulls it off Bruce’s shoulders—Bruce is fairly sure he catches a smug look in his Suit’s direction and...well. Fair. He still reaches up to worry at a nipple in retaliation, satisfied with the reaction he gets right up until he receives the same treatment. Evidently, the days when he was perfectly capable of ignoring his own body until he was sure to leave his partner satisfied are long gone.

He can’t say that he minds too much.

It feels like an eternity before Kal’s mouth finally moves past his pectorals, kissing and caressing his belly, his arms, until it feels like Bruce could come just from that and he makes an impatient noise and pushes down on Kal’s shoulder. It feels a bit like pushing a brick wall, which turns out to be an extremely pleasant sensation, and so Bruce doesn’t even bother with performative annoyance when Kal lifts his hips off the mattress and slides the back of his pants over his ass.

“Oh,” he starts, pleased when he finds bare skin there, “I must say I find this detail very—what is that?”

It’s a good thing no one is here to witness Bruce blink dumbly at the transparent ceiling, or turn around to look past the furniture into the night, where there’s nothing but trees and grass to look at him. Eventually though, he does turn back to Kal and finds him staring at his crotch with a perplexed face. Bruce looks down at where his erection is flagging under the jockstrap he favors with the special fabric of his undersuit. Back up at Kal.

“Problem?”

“Where I am from,” Kal replies with the slow diction of someone trying not to offend, “one may go with underwear or without. This seems like a...an interesting in-between.”

“Do you want me to keep it on?” Bruce asks.

He’s done far more adventurous during one-night stands, and with people he found far less pleasant than Kal. It wouldn’t even be that big a deal. After a moment of consideration, though, Kal asks:

“Is your species capable of climaxing more than once during the night?”

“Yes.”

Given how his body has been reacting so far, Bruce is even cautiously optimistic about attempting a third round, should they be inclined.

“In that case, I should like to admire you in full just now, if you are amenable.”

Bruce has to roll his eyes at that, otherwise he runs the risk of getting caught in the moment and finding this way of talking sexy when it’s anything but. He does dispose of the jockstrap, though, and makes sure to leave it on a nearby cushion where it’ll be easy to retrieve. After that he lies back down on the cushion and gestures for Kal to proceed.

He’s half expecting Kal to take him in his mouth, the break having diminished but not destroyed his erection, but instead the man dives straight for Bruce’s balls—he licks and sucks at them, makes them roll over the bridge of his nose in a way that leaves searing burns over the skin, fills him with heat like a cup in long, slow licks until finally, with one long pull of mouth around his length, he tips over and comes with a silent shudder.

He stays in place for a while, lying down and breathing hard while Kal massages his muscles into a more relaxed state. Eventually—a shorter length of time for him than for most men his age—Bruce’s heartbeat is back to normal, or close enough. Only then does he allow himself to sigh again, and sink even further into the giant pillow.

“Am I to understand you are—”

“Do not say ‘amenable’,” Bruce warns, and Kal chuckles. “But yes.”

“Oh, good. Would you like to proceed as you first intended?”

“Not if you want a third round.”

Kal smiles like a kid at Christmas, and Bruce tries very hard not to groan, even though he knows he’ll get there at some point of the night. He might as well fight for what little dignity he has left, right? Right.

Somehow, he gets even less sleep that night than he’d anticipated.

Bruce wakes up well past sunrise the next morning, the sound of waves in his ears and the smell of salt on his tongue. He still aches in a myriad of different ways, but a lot of them have turned pleasant, and his legs aren’t made of jelly anymore. He takes advantage of the fact to get up and walk to where Kal is seated at a small table turned toward the ocean. The shields, or windows—whichever it is—are gone from between the wooden arches, allowing Bruce to spy the hints of a very large net in the platformed bedroom above before he steps up to Kal. The young alien hasn’t noticed Bruce’s presence, yet, which gives Bruce time to notice he looks extremely pleased with himself.

To be fair, Bruce would be too if he’d managed to bring a near-fifty-year-old, injured man off four times in one night. Not that he’s told Kal about the exceptional aspect of it, but it is possible he was a little too well fucked to hide his own surprise entirely… Either way, Kal is very satisfied, breakfast is still waiting for Bruce, and the mist is only just clearing from around the trees. The air around them is crisp, bracing in a way that makes Bruce half-heartedly wish for Kal’s ridiculous sweater. At the table, Kal still looks entirely oblivious to Bruce’s presence.

Bruce clears his throat, and laughs when that surprises Kal enough to send him sprawling down onto the wooden deck.

“Good morning,” he deadpans while Kal throws a napkin at his head.

“Is that how people on Earth court one another?” Kal asks in mock outrage. “Mind-shattering sex and then heart attacks?”

Bruce doesn’t smile at that, too aware of where he’s going and who he will need to be soon, but he does allow his lips to quirk up.

“Maybe I didn’t think you’d be so affected by something so...inconsequential.”

“Oh, it was plenty consequential enough,” Kal replies without missing a beat with a saucy glance at Bruce’s crotch. “I might even consider letting you know if I ever visit Earth, someday.”

“You can do that?” Bruce asks, satisfied when his sudden spike of stress remains inaudible.

“I do work with the Green Lanterns,” Kal shrugs. “I wouldn’t call it probable, but I suppose it isn’t entirely impossible.”

Bruce hums and, to his relief, Kal doesn’t take offense to it. They share a peaceful breakfast instead, with fruits, fresh water and some kind of crackers that Kal dips into what must be a Kryptonian equivalent to coffee. Bruce tries to get some of it, the house encyclopedia informs them that it might not be safe for humans, and between one thing and the next the time for Bruce to get dressed and follow Kal to the shuttle.

He’s not reluctant about it by far, but if he’s being honest with himself—which he usually tries not to be—Bruce has to admit he’s also not quite as impatient to leave as he thought he’d be.

It was an excellent night, after all.

#Superbat #Clark Kent #Kal-El #Bruce Wayne #DCEU Fic #My Posts #Fanfiction #Toss a queue to your witcher

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ao3feed-brucewayne · 6 months ago

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The road to hell (something about good intentions)

by HagiaSophia Clark is certain that Bruce is seeing Selina again and wants to get proof before he confronts him about the wisdom of revisiting that disaster. He discovers something else instead Words: 1601, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne, Hal Jordan (Green Lantern) Relationships: Hal Jordan (Green Lantern)/Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Sex, Voyeurism via https://ift.tt/JTFBYQV

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the dark knight #the caped crusader #gotham #dcu #dc #ao3 #ao3feed

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staywhelmedbatfam · 5 years ago

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Glow Stick & Spooky

~Bruce Wayne/Reader~

Summary: Of a day, you’re Bruce Wayne’s other half. Of a night, you’re the voice in Batman’s ear. This includes the night when Batman and Green Lantern first met. Who knew being on comms could be so entertaining? Inspired by Justice League: War.

(Y/CN) - Your Codename

If you’d like to watch the scene I used from Justice League: War for the dialogue between Batman and Green Lantern, here are the links: Part One & Part Two. It was too funny for me not to write something about it.

***

Even though you weren’t out in the field, that didn’t mean you just wanted to be on standby until he came home. No, you wanted to be of some help. Bruce was reluctant when you told him that you wanted to help him. He was about to tell you no when you followed it up with explaining that you had no interest in actually being out there where the action was. Instead, you preferred to be behind the scenes and monitor from the Batcave. This brought him relief and, despite not wanting to get you involved in his nighttime activities at all, the role was something he could accept. Besides, Alfred had been doing the same thing for years. The Batcave was the safest place you could be and still help out.

Over the past year, it slowly became routine. When you first started, it was strange for Bruce to hear your voice in his ear. Although, the two of you quickly discovered how you worked best together.

“Whatever that thing is, it just threw someone from one rooftop to another just a couple blocks away from you.” Maneuvering the small drone that you were using, you were able to see what exactly was happening. That allowed you to guide Bruce better than just using nearby security cameras, especially in this case when he wasn’t on the ground.

“Normally, I would suggest that you go help whoever it is, but that’s not a regular citizen.”

With speculation in his voice as he jumped across rooftops, he asked, “Are you sure?”

You zoomed in on the person that got thrown. “Considering that he’s glowing and still moving, I would say so.”

“I’ve got eyes on the monster.” Batman rushed forward and slammed it down to the neighboring roof. “What were you doing at the docks? I want answers.” The only response he got was fire coming from its mouth. Running and dodging was the only thing he could do at the moment. It got one good hit in with its fist before there was the sound of a train and a green locomotive slamming into it.

“Okay, what was that?” You knew he was about to say something snarky, so you quickly followed up with, “Don’t. Answer that.” Taking another look at the screen where the video feed was being played, you saw him being illuminated by a green light.

“Batman? You’re real?” the glowing man from earlier asked, surprised laced in his voice. You let out a snort.

“Turn it off,” Batman commanded.

“I had him.”

“Clearly. Now turn off the damn light before they see us.”

“Before who sees us?”

Oh yeah, you thought. This guy’s definitely new to Gotham.

Three helicopters put a spotlight on the two of them. “This is Gotham PD. Put your hands in the air. Put your hands in the air!”

The green guy did as they instructed. “They don’t like us much.”

“The world’s afraid of us,” Batman clarified, ignoring the imperative from the police.

“You say that like it’s a good thing.”

Your eyes glanced at the live footage and you noticed the monster in the background. It rose from the rubble. Nothing good could come from that. “Please tell me you haven’t forgotten about our monster because he’s not down for the count just yet.”

“It’s necessary.” Batman didn’t respond to you – responding to the other guy instead – but you knew he did acknowledge what you said. He turned around and saw the creature gearing up to let loose of another round of fire. “Move!” Apparently, the other guy didn’t move fast enough to get out of the way, so he tackled him to the roof.

Once again, Batman took off running across the roof. “Take your glow stick and go home. Gotham’s mine.” You stifled another laugh. He shot his magnetic grapnel and it latched onto the creature’s ankle. That thing kept flying through Gotham, taking him with it.

You sighed in annoyance, shaking your head. “I know you’ve been doing this a lot longer than you’ve known me, but please be careful.”

“Aren’t I always?”

“One, that was super cliché, and two, I just don’t want to see you faceplant into a building or the pavement below.” You glared at the computer monitor that showed Bruce’s location, imagining that it was him since he couldn’t see you right now.

Glow Stick unknowingly interrupted your conversation. “No. See, this entire space sector is my beat.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m serious. I’m Green Lantern dammit,” he shouted as he continued to follow after Batman and the creature, firing off a few shots but not doing much damage. Then, he ended up falling behind.

You pulled up the files Bruce had on different heroes – nothing matching this guy’s description – as he continued holding on as the monster flew through the city with him attached. Creating a new file, you started compiling information on this new hero.

“Green Lantern…” you muttered as you typed. “I’m still calling him Glow Stick.”

Upon noticing that the creature was no longer in sight, you started to survey the surrounding area with the drone again. It was just smoke and fire surrounding the two men. Suddenly, you noticed it. That had to be where that thing went.

“So, what’s it doing in Gotham?” Glow Stick inquired.

“Witnesses spotted this thing trying to plant some kind of bomb downtown. When the cops confronted it, it spewed fire from its mouth.” He paused a moment. “(Y/CN), do you have a location on it?”

“Yep, it’s in the sewers. There’s a manhole cover slightly out of place a couple of yards from you. You’ll enter there.” Pulling up a map of Gotham’s sewer system, you quickly figured out what turns he needed to take. “Make the first right, then a left, and another right.”

He dropped down into the sewers, Green Lantern followed behind him and continued their conversation. “Yeah, I noticed, but fire’s no problem for me. As I was saying, Green Lantern can do anything.”

“Except shut up, apparently.” Bruce’s bluntness made you laugh again and, with the way this conversation was going, you didn’t think your laughter would stop there.

“Wow. Someone forgot to take their Tru Blood tonight.”

Between giggles, you commented, “I hope Glow Stick comes around more often because he’s actually kinda funny.”

From the video feed, you saw Bruce narrow his eyes. You weren’t sure if it was a tiny bit of jealousy bubbling up from your comment or annoyance from the preconceived notion about him. Perhaps it was a little bit of both. “I’m not a vampire.”

“Seriously? I thought with the darkness and the vanishing and the, what, super strength?”

“No.”

Thinking about it, he did make a pretty convincing case. It was a little creepy how well Bruce was able to stick to the shadows and go undetected. Sometimes he would even scare you without meaning to. The man could absolutely pass for a creature of the night.

When it came to the super strength, though, you had to draw a line – and a fine one at that. He was definitely stronger than the average human but still had many limitations in that aspect. After all, Bruce was no meta-human, just very, very dedicated to his workouts… You were in a daze, thinking back to the last time you saw him working out. Oh, how lucky you were to be married to this man.

“Can you fly?” This question brought you out of your daydreaming.

Bruce didn’t even look back at him as he made the left you told him to take. “In a plane.”

“Wait. You’re not just some guy in a bat costume are ya?”

Stopping dead in his tracks, Bruce turned his head and gave Green Lantern a smirk. Seeing Batman with that expression caused you to snicker. He’s always serious, so this situation is extremely humorous to you.

“Are you freaking kidding me?” All he received in return was a straight face. “What? Nobody asked you to prom, so now you dress as a bat and prowl around your parents’ basement?”

Batman redirected the conversation by holding up a glowing green ring and asking, “What’s this do?”

“Huh?” Green Lantern lifted his hands to look at them just as his suit and mask disappeared.

“No buttons. I assume it works off concentration,” Bruce said, examining the ring.

You zoomed in on the flight suit he wore and saw the name Hal Jordan. As you began inserting his name and more information about his ring into the file you’d made, you rolled your eyes. “I swear you’re the most curious person I’ve ever met.”

“How’d you do that?”

“You weren’t concentrating,” Batman stated, smirking at him again. If these two end up working together in the future more, they’ll be a great source of entertainment.

Hal stuck out his hand, the ring flying out of Bruce’s grasp and back onto his finger. His suit also reappeared. “You won’t do that again.”

Turning back around to continue walking, Bruce casually spoke, “Unless I want to.”

“That’s it.” He put a hand on Batman’s shoulder to try and get him to turn again. It was fun seeing Glow Stick all riled up. “Let’s rumba, Spooky.”

“Hehe, Spooky…” you mumbled, a smile on your face.

Suddenly, Batman slammed Green Lantern into the wall and shushed him. Once it was quiet, they could hear the creature they were after.

You sighed, “Back to business.”

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#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #batman #batman x reader #justice league war #justice league #green lantern #hal jordan

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douxreviews · 6 years ago

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American Gods - ‘Moon Shadow’ Review

"Fear is order. Fear is control. Fear is safety."

Season two of American Gods wraps up. It was... a little confusing. The episode, not the season. Well, actually also the season.

Much like 'Donar the Great' a few episodes back, 'Moon Shadow' had a lot in it that felt very Fuller-esque. So again, I ask myself how much of the planning for this was already underway before his exit from the show. Quite possibly none, and it's just the result of a DP or one of the designers having a similar artistic taste, but it seems to carry across all the elements of design, from sound to shot composition to the visuals.

Take, for example, a moment that I've seen now in a couple of places questioned as, 'What the hell was that about?' I refer of course to the gorgeously framed close up shot of the snails on the side of the burial vault. Fun side-fact, I had to look up what exactly those above ground stone things that Shadow was lying on were called and was informed that they were very common for Egyptian Pharaohs. Nice detail work there, set designer or whoever made the decision to have them in Jaquel and Ibis' cemetery.

Now, the contrasting image of Shadow sleeping on top of the Vault, then waking to find Laura sleeping on the adjacent one is a very nice, if not overly subtle, 'in life we are in death' visual. Particularly given the characters involved. But then they up their game and open the morning shots with that close up of the snails clinging to the side of the stone monument. This is a great shot for a few reasons, but it's there for a very Fuller reason. It's a stark visual of gross, complicated, uncomfortable life clinging on in the face of cold, unalterable death. It's the same message as Shadow lying on the thing put in a much more confrontational way.

But I appear to be waffling in the little details instead of looking at the big picture, so let's look at that big picture.

There are a few ways to wrap up a season finale, but two of the most popular are either by building to a spectacular reveal of something that changes our entire understanding of what we've seen before, or arriving at a climactic plot development. Both of these can either be something completely out of left field or the final realization of something that's been slow burning for a long time and is finally paying off.

Wednesday's reveal as Odin in season one's finale would be one of those slow burn examples of the former. Easter's decision to join Wednesday and unleash her power starting the war was the slow burn example of the latter.

This finale kind of attempts both, and while there's a lot I like in this one, neither of those threads feel like a complete success. Perhaps looking at the two of them individually will help me parse out how I feel about this episode, because, honestly, seven or so paragraphs in and I'm still not 100% certain that I know.

So, clearly the big reveal here is that Shadow is Wednesday's son and has some sort of powers. This is, to be fair, a huge reveal. But the problem is that they've sort of half revealed it at least three or four times this year, and so the net result is not unlike when your sassiest friends comes out of the closet to you and your first reaction is 'Oh, did we not already know that? I thought we were already clear on that.'

Side note: that's not a helpful thing to say to the friend in question, should the occasion arise.

Since almost the beginning of the series fandom has been more or less convinced that Shadow is Odin's son Baldr. Or Baldur, or Balder. Old Norse didn't have a strong written component outside of a limited set of runes, and the written forms we understand of it today were almost entirely imposed on it later. Thank you for indulging me with sharing that. Orthography is one of my favorite things. Orthography and assembling flatpack furniture.

Ahem. Fandom has long believed that Shadow is going to turn out to be Baldr. That's a nice, big reveal to end the season on, but by the time we get to Wednesday openly confirming it at the end of this episode we've already heard him talking to young Shadow in flashback while Shadow's mom is dying and been nearly beaten over the head with the implication of Shadow's paternity during the discussion of his presumably half-brother Donar.

On the other hand, we have the plot development of Mr. World officially commencing what we might call the counterattack in the war by using the newly resurrected New Technical Boy to facilitate New Media in calling the entire world down on Shadow, Wednesday, and for some reason, Salim. It was clever of them to publicly use not just the bank robbery in Chicago, but also the massacre of the cops back in 'Lemon Scented You' and the alleged 'chemical attack' in Kentucky which was of course really Easter's taking back the spring. That all gave it a nice sense of all the multiple plot threads coming together organically, and was tied together well by New Media finally speaking to Shadow in the same way old Media did. That's the first time she's really felt like a continuation of the same character for me, and I'm down with New Media now.

That's all great. But it's tied in, in fact it's the entire impetus for, Shadow's big character transformation in which he learns to use what powers he has. Specifically, he seems to alter reality by reaching into his own memories to clear the police and SWAT units from the funeral home's vicinity. From what we hear over the news, he didn't change things so much that the cops aren't still looking for them specifically, but did make them 'un-know' where specifically they were hiding.

The problem is that I think more than a couple people will have read that last sentence and thought to themselves, 'Huh. so that's what was happening,' and therein lies the episode's real problem. I think the blame really can be laid to Yggdrasil in this case. Having Shadow dragged into the tree, on top of all the flashbacks and intercuts between dream and reality so that he can metaphorically and literally hatchet his way into the god-space, is just an overly complicated and muddy way to visualize that. And that muddiness really hurt the reveal that they were trying to make the big exclamation mark at the end of the season. Instead of coming away thinking, 'Wow, I can't believe what just happened!' the viewer leaves thinking, 'What the hell just happened?' and that's not a great note on which to end a season.

No Yggdrasil! Bad Tree! Put the nice man down!

Quotes:

New Technical Boy: "Hello, old friend."

Laura: "I am not my mistakes, Shadow."

Burial Vault Inscription: "She hath done what she could." That is just an incredibly depressing final memorial.

Mr. Xie: "Science is the closest we come to wrestling god." New Technical Boy: "Why would you want to…?"

Laura: "Planning on kissing me again? Cause I’ve had kind of a day." Bilquis: "My kisses have been known to improve a day."

Laura: "You don’t like him either." Bilquis: "Is that what your intuition tells you?" Laura: "No, I just know an I’d-like-to-punch-that guy-in-the-mouth-look when I see one."

Salim: "Sorry, I’ve never purchased liquor before. It’s for a friend. He’s a leprechaun. He died." Cashier: "OK."

Bilquis: "I’m a great believer in frankly assessing one’s situation."

Salim: "I don’t know what we are going to be, but I want you to know that I don’t regret any of it. You have taught me how to love."

Jinn: "You know me. Eyes of fire, shit for brains."

Bits and Pieces:

-- I suspect that Nancy and Ibis' conversation over the chess game is going to reward re-watching after all is said and done and the whole story is told.

-- I still don't entirely understand whose side Bilquis is on or what her goals are. She's certainly all right with Laura killing Wednesday and actually seems to consider the offer to join her. No Ruby Goodchild this week.

-- The first ten minutes with Mr. World and the 1938 War of the Worlds broadcast is hands down my favorite thing this show has ever done. A beautiful exploration of the interrelationship between fear, belief, and objective reality. Crispin Glover was born specifically to deliver that monologue.

-- I've come to realize that the most useful way to watch this series is to assume that whatever happens was the outcome wanted by someone, and then work backwards as to who would want that outcome and why. That also works for Agatha Christie books, by the way.

-- I liked the old Technical Boy better. He had much more personality. And while I get that they were going for fiber optics with the new costume, it ends up coming across as Green Lantern. Was that a Michael Green nod?

-- The echo of the opening War of the Worlds monologue sprinkled throughout New Media's on-air rant was very effective at bringing everything together. Nicely scripted.

-- I love the wall-size bas reliefs of Bruce Langley's head on the walls of Xietech. I need them in my home.

-- The NRA logo on the opening film card leading into a discussion of how creating fear allows you to control people was an inspired touch.

-- Here's hoping that Laura's running away with Mad Sweeney's body means that we haven't seen the last of him. Even though they're both dead, I'm still 'shipping them super hard.

-- The Jinn chose to protect Salim by taking him away, even though it means facing consequences for disobeying Wednesday. That's very touching. I assume we'll learn in season three why the Jinn is bound to Wednesday. I very much hope it doesn't involve rubbing a lamp.

-- It's very in character that Wednesday's entire role this week was 'Go out for dinner and watch the pieces fall into place.'

-- It's strange that they went out of their way to remind us in the pre-credit sequence that Sweeney had sent the spear into the Hoard, and never got around to addressing that this week. Setup for next year I suppose.

A mostly enjoyable season finale with some very high highs and some very low lows, which sums up season two in a nutshell. Still, any series that gives me this episode and 'Donar the Great' in a single season deserves to go on for many, many years.

Two and a half out of three graveyard snails.

P.S. please bring Chris Obi back next season.

Mikey Heinrich is, among other things, a freelance writer, volunteer firefighter, and roughly 78% water.

#American Gods #Shadow Moon #Mr Wednesday #Laura Moon #Neil Gaiman #American Gods Reviews #Doux Reviews #TV Reviews

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fyeahwonderbat · 7 years ago

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Theme #1 -Honeymoon: Sway

Author: MaidenOfTheWorld

Requested by: Hayo (emailed prompt)

Universe: DCAU (Justice League)

Rating: Teen / PG-13

Word Count: 3,174 words

“It was quite risky to bring me here, you know.” Diana informed her newly instated husband as she stared out at the turquoise waters that surrounded her. Her fingers danced upon the surface of the sea just as her mischievous intentions were meant to tease him between her words, if not for the beaming sun that had melted all of her concerns away.

His tone let her know that her pestering had not landed with him. “How so?”

She fought a grin as she answered with her head bent backwards, her voice traveling above and beyond her in order to reach him. “Taking an Amazon to the Ionian Sea for her honeymoon?”

Water splashed behind her, indicating that he was coming towards her.

“Especially when you didn’t allow her to know anything you were planning?”

Droplets of water met with her lower back as he neared.

“Potentially dangerous, wouldn’t you say?” The last word was whisked away when she lost her breath, as two large arms encaptured her waist and tugged her into a body she knew all too well.

Which mean that she knew when he had chosen to wear swim trunks while she had preferred to enter the dazzling waters in the nude.

“Bruce.” She chided, suddenly finding her ability to emote accordingly.

He ignored her chastising however, and instead try to be just as coaxing as the sun as he landed his lips upon the crook of her neck. “I don’t think it’s anymore dangerous than having our rouge galleries try and crash our wedding.”

Diana laughed silently. “Very true.” Again, her wits were nearly stolen away by the grace of heat upon her skin, something she savoured so easily when the world felt as though it didn’t exist beyond the horizon; Bruce had gone through the trouble of renting a small house on the edge of the island Atokos and the isolation was familiar as much as it was soothing compared to what she had known before.

Still, it left her curious. “Yet you risked bringing your bride to a place that she knows like a second home.” She nearly dared herself to ask why despite how it might end the gentleness of their conversations, of his lips adorning her skin.

He didn’t answer her right away, perhaps due to understanding what she was after. A rather poetic notion creeped up on her mind, like the shiver that his bare chest imposed upon her spine: the island was covered trees, sturdy and maze-like, which seemed reminiscent of her partner-turned-husband all too well. She, in turn, was the rhythmic sea that always pushed at his boundaries and waited for him to give her more. The relationship was opposing at times, and yet, Diana couldn’t help but to see it as the most natural thing in the world.

“I am nothing if not a risk-taker.” This time, his word were murmured into her flesh, like a warning prod. Much to his dismay, most likely, she couldn’t help but laugh at the clear oversimplification of his remark.

His word choice pulled her from her dream-like state and compelled her to suddenly turn in his arms. The Ionian Sea rushed over her backside due to its tide but Diana chose to see it as a push in the direction she was steering their conversation. “Says the man in swim shorts, talking to the naked woman before him.” She quirked her brow to further impress upon him how accusatory she was being.

“The naked goddess.” Bruce amended her own sentence in the hopes of distracting her.

Her instant response was to hook her thumbs under the waistband of his shorts and give a threatening tug. How quickly he hooded his eyes with his brows and grumbled her name.

“Diana.”

“Yes, husband?” Now it was her turn to try and woo him with sweet words.

“If the paparazzi happen to find us--”

“They can see me naked and not you?”

“I want you to enjoy our honeymoon to your heart’s content.”

“Then strip.” Diana asked as much as she demanded.

At once, Bruce let out a sigh to imply that he was thoroughly dismayed. Those cheeks of his couldn’t lie to her though and Diana saw there was an urge to smirk quiver within the corners of his lips. He was confronted with his own hypocrisy and would be made the fool if he didn’t comply.

So he raised his hands in the air and cocked his own brow back at her. “You’re welcome to do the honours” - he offered in terms of an apology, before pausing and smoothly adding on - “princess.”

Yes, she’d take being his princess over being anyone’s goddess, anyday.

“With pleasure.” She said with bated breath. The rubber band keeping his swim trunks on his hips was no match for his princess’ strength, let alone her desire to see them gone. In fact, Diana decided to use her entire upper body to urge his shorts down his legs, bending forward enough so that her lips could graze his rippling stomach in the hopes of inspiring him to step out of them faster.

The sudden rising of goosebumps along his torso proved that her plan worked much faster than anticipated.

Bruce lifted one leg, and then the other before handing off his trunks to her as a sign of quiet obedience. Diana then swiped them from his hand and tossed them back onto the beach, letting them land with a light, wet thud as she smiled at him. “Thank you, husband.” Again, she was sweet-talking him, despite already having her way.

Bruce couldn’t keep himself from smirking now as he returned his arms to their rightful place around her waist. “I don’t remember you being this coy when I first met you.”

“Really? I believe it’s one of my most prominent traits.” Her hands slid up over his chest, across his shoulders blades and rested on either side of his neck as she roped him into her. The motion of the sea caused her to sway as she did so, giving her the impromptu notion that’d she’d like to sway with him too. Slowly but surely, she guided him into a rather artless, honest dance.

“I mean that you used to be less obvious with your flirtations.”

“I think you tell yourself that so you don’t feel foolish for missing all of the signs I gave you.”

Bruce drew his head back ever so slightly, despite his neck being locked in by her hold. His expression seemed to question if she meant her words, shocked but amused. “Really?” The word was drawn out of him slowly, as if to imply that she had time to take back her words.

“Really,” she answered quickly, unapologetically. The only amendment she had in mind came to her when a sudden sea breeze passed over them. “Though I suppose we had more than one first meeting.”

Bruce’s posture relaxed again. “Wonder Woman was much too busy rebuffing Green Lantern’s distrust and disposing of aliens to flirt with the Batman when we first meet as our alter egos.” His recollection of their first encounter seemed like yet another oversimplification, but Diana could only count two of their conversations during that entire ordeal.

“I shielded you from an alien attack with my bracelet.” She offered cheekily.

This time, her humour reached him and Bruce let loose with a rather hardy chuckle. The sound resonated within her and Diana felt as if she could have melted into the turquoise waters. Any moment in which her husband showcased his mirth easily, naturally made her heart swell more than it ever had before in her many centuries of life.

“If that is your way of flirting, princess” - then he referred to her by that nickname, and somehow her heart felt as if it doubled in size - “then that explains all of the fanmail you received over the years.”

That remark did irk her slightly though, as the joke was completely at her expense. She swatted at his skin lightly before leading their circular dance around so that her back could meet the sun. ��I’m saying that I was always more aware of things than you are.” A tad impudent, she knew, but Diana wanted to have her victory in their verbal spar.

And she could have had it too, if Bruce hadn’t suddenly stolen a kiss from her without warning, without her awareness of his plan to do so.

She had felt his mouth on hers many times before, even while unclothed too, but there was something incredibly sensual about that moment as they stood naked in the sea. Their kiss was just as tender as their dance, just as spontaneous and carefree, but it was the setting for it that roused something deep within Diana’s belly.

Considering what she felt pressed against her hip bone, it was rousing for Bruce too.

As he pulled himself away from her, he whispered for her ears only on the private island. “Were you aware of how badly I’ve wanted to do that since I saw you walking naked into the sea?”

Diana licked her lips softly. “It’s better that you showed me yourself.”

He grinned genuinely in her face. Somehow, they kept their gentle pacing for their dance while he stole her lips from her, and the wind rejoiced by brushing through their embrace, offering its cool touch upon their sun-kissed bodies as they carried on.

“What about when Diana and Bruce first met?” Asked Mr. Wayne to his Mrs. Almost as if he was attempting to job her memory, Bruce took her arms to dislodge himself from her hold before leading her into a spin out into the water while her hand was clasped in his.

When Diana spun back into him, her face lit up as the memory registered with her. “The party in Paris was such a spur of the moment decision, and I couldn’t have known you were there.”

“But I knew it was you.” He admitted long after the fact.

“And you saved me from those nosey people.”

“We’ve both had our fair share of people like that by now,” Bruce acknowledged. “But back then, I could see you sinking under their curiosity.”

“And you rescued me without admitting to me who you were.”

“You figured it out, though.” With a tip of his head, he stared her down as if to ask her how she had done it.

Diana hummed her reply rather pridefully. “Not only was it too coincidental for Batman to show up in my hotel room in Paris so suddenly, but I knew it was you from the moment we spoke.”

She paused for dramatic effect before her blue hues met his smokey black ones. Then, she answered truthfully, softly, “I’d recognize that voice of yours anywhere, Bruce.”

“Really?” He couldn’t help himself from saying something, anything, after hearing that, she assumed.

Diana giggled at her own girlish answer. “It’s why I danced with you to begin with, because it was nice to hear you talk to me without a snarl.”

“I...suppose so.”

“But speaking of that night,” she mused as she felt a pair of fish dance around their legs in every direction. “How do you think that night would have ended if Audrey hadn’t been attacked?”

That question immediately gave Bruce pause, an almost awkward one in length. The possibility of reimagining past events wasn’t something they discussed usually as moving forward was how heroes survived their jobs and everyday lives. It was how they avoided lamenting over the time they lost with each other. Going back to the beginning in some form or another would mean that they could have dated three years soon, had their honeymoon two years ago, perhaps.

Diana worried she might have soured the mood of their afternoon, that is, until Bruce relented and decided to play along by saying, “I would have fought with myself to take you home that night.”

The answer was what she wanted, and still, Diana felt as if she had been bowled over. “Would you have? Really?”

Bruce let his eyes roll over as much of her body as he could see as an immediate response to her questioning. He stared deep into her eyes as if he was trying to pierce her doubt with his truth, then let his gaze sink down towards her breasts, pretending it could see through her and observe her heart as it beat through her chest. “That was the first time I saw you out of uniform. Your hair wasn’t being held back by your tiara, your long legs somehow appeared to be longer in that black dress. You looked like the exact type of woman that an enemy might send to tempt me with in order to catch me off guard.”

“Is that why you were immediately trying to investigate me?” She bit her lip in response, finding the tone of the conversation shifting to one emulating the very night they were discussing.

Bruce smirked at her. “Maybe. It was also why I said I was there on business, so I could have an excuse to leave if I needed to.”

He was being so forthcoming without there even being a need for her Lasso of Truth, and secretly to herself, Diana admitted that it was most assuredly a kink of hers now to have him speak so honestly. “You mean you weren’t there for…?”

“I was investigating the Kaznian resistance group, but truthfully, I knew you had left the Watchtower, and I wanted to make sure you’d be okay. Man’s World was new to you at the time, so I planned to shadow you and hopefully keep it from disillusioning you.”

Another pause, but this time, it was Diana’s doing. She motioned for him to spin her out again and then pull her in close, their pose now resembling the one they held while dancing at their reception. Then, she pointed out, “So you stole me away from the public the first chance you got.”

“I...reacted to those people swarming you, yes. Hastily, I know.” As he looked away with slight embarrassment, Diana could barely win the battle against keeping laughter at bay.

“And then the resistance group attacked.”

“And then the resistance group attacked.” Bruce repeated her words, but his voice alluded to him feeling rather relieved about the fact.

Nevertheless, she couldn’t allow their conversation about the past possibilities between them come to an end. The interest had been piqued, and Diana was nothing if not curious. Against her better judgement - for fear that she might receive an answer like the one she wanted in her heart of hearts - she dared herself to ask, “But if they hadn’t?”

Bruce’s mouth made a straight line and she convinced herself that he was working through the possibilities, like the detective he was known to be. “I always believed in the ideology that teammates shouldn’t date, princess. You know it took me a long time to be convinced otherwise.”

“Yes,” her impatience was unintentionally heard in her lone word answer and Bruce eyed her knowingly. “But in that moment, I knew you as Mr. Wayne and you had no idea that I knew you were secretly the Batman I knew from the Justice League. Pretending we were merely Bruce and Diana in the ‘City of Lights’, would anything have been different if we weren’t forced to become heroes moments later?”

The tide had calmed unexpectedly when she had asked the question, and a lone cloud had drifted in front of the sun. Here they were, years later and happily married for no more than a few days, and Diana felt her insatiable officiousness rearing itself into their life together. For some reason she couldn’t quite explain, she needed to know what his answer would be.

And Bruce would do anything for his princess. “If they hadn’t crashed through that ceiling and ended our dance, I don’t know if I ever would have stopped dancing with you. You’re magnetic, Diana, and you know that you have a pull over me. I can’t say whether or not I would have succumb to you then, if we managed to spend time getting to know one another as Bruce Wayne and Diana of Themyscira.”

She wouldn’t admit that her heart broke ever so slightly, not to him. This reimagining wouldn’t change where they were in that moment - on a secret island in the Ionian Sea, celebrating their marriage on a week long honeymoon - but it was disappointing to think that there was nothing they could have done to make their relationship develop sooner. The awareness of his morality was something she had never mentioned to him and she wasn’t going to start discussing it now.

“That’s true, Bruce, but-”

“But I can only imagine that it would have made my stubborn life without you that much harder to bear.” The sun reemerged from behind it’s cloud cover when she looked directly into his eyes, its warmth finding Bruce before gently reaching out to her.

Diana decided to take comfort in his hypothetical misery and scoff gently, smiling the entire time. “I would hope so.”

“You do understand that if Bruce Wayne had kissed you that night, he would have never been able to call you or ask you for more. Meaning that, knowing it was me, you would have most likely ended up taking your rage out on me for treating you poorly.”

“I did that most of the time when we sparred, Bruce.”

“...Oh.”

“After all, whether we fell in love that night or later on in life, you still rejected my advances many times. Sparring was better than leaving me to my own wild imagination. ”

There was one more pause between them, sitting heavily upon the reality of their past now, rather than anything hypothetical. The two little fish had returned and swam around them, through their stances as if awaiting how Bruce could possibly respond to her truth. Sadly, it seemed as though he - the world’s greatest detective, or so he had told her - couldn’t concoct an appropriate response to her admittance.

His silence did however warrant a laugh from her. Clasping his hand with her own, her wedding ring cold between their fingers, she stared deeply into her husband’s thoughtful eyes and decided to take the lead in their naked dance in the sea. “At least you can make it up to me now by finishing that dance with me.”

“That,” he answered swiftly the second time around, grateful for the change in topics as evident by that grin of his that she just adored. He allowed her to lead for a step or two before dipping her backwards suddenly. Her hair fell into the sea as she screamed with surprised delight. Her husband merely stared down at her with what appeared to be some form of awe in his eyes. Then, he promised, “is something I can definitely do for you, princess.”

#wonderbatweek2018 #maiden writes #wonderbat #Diana Prince #bruce wayne

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