#bruce the beta fish

[sgt-seabass]

For your open requests: Omega!Reader + Dark Alpha!Bucky + Heat Triggered + “You really should be more careful in the field, doll. You never know what could have happened if they found you. But, it’s okay, I’m here now. I’ll take care of you.”

𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅

pairing — dark!alpha!bucky barnes x avengers!omega!reader w/c — 1.6k (was meant to be a drabble, whoops) this is a dark fic. 18+ only. warnings — dark bucky, a/b/o elements, choking, general dark themes a/n — beta-ed by @sweeterthanthis and looked over by @navybrat817 and @maladaptivexxdaydreaming. my brain has been in a self-critical place recently, so thank you friends for helping me get this out.

The world was cruel.

You knew it as soon as you presented as an omega.

Your mother cried. Your father was so angry he punched a hole in the wall. Your friends turned up their noses, and everyone started to treat you as lesser.

You were no more than the bottom of the barrel.

That was until aliens invaded New York, and you presented for the second time. This time, your powers became apparent after being struck with a weapon alight with electricity. Hawkeye tried to save you, but as it turned out, he didn’t need to.

The aliens used advanced technology, something you quickly learned you could manipulate. You could feel the electrical currents and your mind's eye could visually see the circuit paths to infiltrate any electronic device.

Unsurprisingly, the Avengers took you in for their training program only weeks later.

While New York rebuilt, you trained.

In the sparring circle, no one cared what designation you were. Opponents threw their punches hard regardless. And you learnt what it meant to be an agent; to be respected by your peers.

In the years that followed, after the rise and fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., you met Bucky Barnes. His friend, none other than Captain America, had found him not long after being fished out of the Potomac River.

He was damaged, but who wasn’t? You all had your vices.

You’d tried to befriend him while others cowered away, but all you ever got was a narrowed glance in return. It was obvious he didn’t like you. That much was evident with how he’d sit as far away from you as possible or leave the gym when you entered, not even acknowledging your existence. Asshole. You’d tried to be kind since every other agent wanted nothing to do with him, but if he wanted to be a dick, so be it.

It’s fine. You didn’t need Bucky's approval. But you needed him to be civil on missions after you were placed on the same team. Which he seemed to be, for the most part. The occasional snide comment was passed.

“You really should be more careful, agent. You almost got hit.”

“Perhaps you should spend more time training and less time making yourself look pretty. Nice hair does nothing to assist on missions.”

“Stop dragging behind, agent. I can’t help you when you get your ass beat.”

But overall, it was bearable. Plus, you’d always come out of those missions with a shit-eating grin when you proved him wrong, using power and prowess to take down enemies effortlessly.

You may be an omega, but you were powerful. And that felt good.

But the higher you climb, the harder you fall.

And you were plummeting.

You’d been on heat suppressants since you entered the Avengers tower all those years ago. The medicine helped to reduce your omega scent to barely nonexistent and stopped the quarterly throes of heat.

Bruce always provided you with the medication you needed, but something tells you he might have made the batch wrong.

You’re standing in the lab of a Hydra base, one of many that still exist. Cut off one head, and two shall take its place. The cramps that are overtaking your body are intense, and they almost have you blacking out on the floor from the pain.

Sweat beads along your brow, your tactical suit feeling suddenly claustrophobic, the fabric too tight with how hot you’re getting. Your fingers grip the side of the metal counter, shuddering breaths coming from you.

It was all wrong. There’s no way you’d just entered your heat, right?

The whimper that bubbles in your throat indicates otherwise. You can still smell the alpha scent coming off the bodies of the Hydra agents near your feet. You’d taken them down shortly before the cramps began. And now all you want to do is scent their cold corpses.

Fuck. This is unprofessional.

God, Bucky is going to wring your ass for this.

A particularly sharp shoot of pain has you gasping and keeling over, your head resting against the cold counter, the various bottled substances around you rattling.

You bang your fist against the metal, frustrated tears welling in your eyes.

It all becomes worse when a phenomenal scent wafts into the room. Like a forest fresh after a storm. Earthy, woodsy, and cozy. It’s the kind of smell that entices adventure, to find the unknown hidden within the humid forest.

You’d know that smell anywhere.

Your legs give way, and you slide to the tiled floor. Heat pools in your core, slick beginning to coat your folds.

You look away when Bucky enters, but you can hear the way he sniffs into the air with a dry, mocking chuckle.

“You really should be more careful in the field, doll. You never know what could have happened if they found you. But, it’s okay, I’m here now. I’ll take care of you.”

Doll? He’s never spoken to you so softly before. Confused, you turn to look at him, and fuck, you want to jump him. Hair that’s just begging to be pulled on, that damn silver arm and beefy stature. He’s the picture of a perfect alpha.

You’ve always been attracted to him. How could you not be? Despite his shit attitude, he is a fucking Adonis.

You take a deep breath, attempting to compose yourself and not drool. “I am careful. There must be something wrong with my meds. Blame Bruce and not me,” you snipe, your fever beginning to worsen with each second, your tactical suit sticking to your skin uncomfortably.

“Oh, no, you can blame me for that. I swapped them with placebos,” Bucky says nonchalantly, moving to lean against a nearby counter with a smirk.

The shock freezes you, your mind momentarily short-circuiting. “What?”

“How else was I meant to mate you, omega?” Like it’s a simple, obvious answer, Bucky shrugs his shoulders, nostrils flaring as he continues to take in your scent.

“But— but you hate me. You can’t stand being near me.”

Bucky lets out a growl, and it has your pussy clenching around nothing. “I can’t stand being near you knowing you’re not mine, knowing I couldn’t smell the real you. I need to fuck you, bite you, consume you. But I couldn't do that with those drugs pumping through your system. You have no idea how difficult it was holding myself back with you around, omega.”

His words give you clarity, and you recall all the moments he’d looked at you. In the gym. In the common areas. On missions. In the quinjet after. Pupils dilating, shoulders squared, jaw clenched. You thought he acted like that because he hated you. But it’s because he wants you.

Bucky starts to approach, but you frantically scramble backwards across the floor, covering yourself in the blood of the dead agents as you pass their bodies. “G-Get away from me. I’ll tell everyone what you did. I-I’ll tell Bruce. Steve. Anyone who will listen.”

“Oh, omega, who do you think helped me set all this up? Don’t you think we’ll make a great duo? The little electric omega and her alpha,” Bucky laughs, not stopping his long strides.

His scent is getting more robust and enticing, and it's hard to hold back the moan that wants to escape from the mere smell of him. “Fuck off. You’re not my alpha.”

“I will be.”

Bucky gets closer, and in a split-second decision, you extend your arm and use your powers. You’d never dared try this before, but there was no time like the present.

You feel the currents and wires of Bucky’s arm, your eyes fluttering as you follow the electric path until you find the needed area. You clench your fist, shutting down the primary receptor, and his metal arm goes limp like dead weight.

Bucky bows to the side for a moment before he straightens himself. Even with the arm disabled, he has the strength to hold up the hunk of metal like it's feather-light. His grin widens. “You cannot stop me, even with your tricks, sparky. Give in to me, and I’ll make it all better, omega.”

A whine rips through you the moment his hand touches your knee, the simple touch sending need coursing through you. You look around, but there's nothing there to help you. No electronics nearby as Bucky corners you against the lab counter.

Pulling your gun is dumb, you know this, but you do it anyway. You unholster your handgun, whipping it up and aiming it at Bucky’s legs, just to get him to back off. He’s lost his goddamn mind.

The super soldier doesn't take kindly to the threat. Before you can aim it at him, Bucky grabs your wrist, nearly crushing your bones in his grip before he spins you in the blood on the floor, allowing him to snake his arm around your neck with your back flush to his chest.

The pain in your wrist causes you to yelp and drop the gun, the weapon clattering against the ground as you wheeze. Bucky’s forearm, tight against your throat, begins to squeeze. Even with his metal arm dormant, he still easily overpowers you. “Didn’t have to be like this, sparky. Could’a been nice and sweet.”

“S-Stop, Bucky–” You claw against his arm, but the fabric covering it was bulletproof, so your nails can't even dig in. “L-Let me go.”

“That’s enough, omega. Sleep,” Bucky’s hot breath fans against your ear as he nips at your lobe. “And when you wake up, I’m going to fuck you like a goddamn animal. You’ll be screaming my name so loud the whole compound will hear how good my cock feels.”

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[pricetagofficial]

The Little Merman -D.G. Part One

Warnings: fluff, angst, magic, arguing between family, language, arranged marriage.

Masterlist

Pairing: Merman! Dick Grayson x Reader

Word Count: 3.8K

A/N: Hello! I hope you all enjoy this! I’ve been working away at it for several months now, not to mention how long I’ve been marinating this in my head. Big thanks to @offendedfishnoises​ for helping me and being my beta for everything. I hope you know how much I appreciate it. 

Dick was a good kid, he swears. He always came home on time, his teachers had little to no complaints about him, and was even a model prince for his brothers and sisters. Bruce, the king of the undersea world was proud to call Dick his son, taking him in after his parents perished in a tragic fishing accident.

The only thing that would be questionable about the crown prince, Richard Grayson, is that he was as Alfred liked to say, spirited. Dick wanted to explore, he wanted to live his life before he was tied down never to experience new things again before he was to take over for Bruce. 

That’s what led him to where you were, sitting on your little boat watching your beautiful merman bring you shells and treasures from the deep. All he wanted in return was for you to give him human stuff.

The fading blue scales on his face reflected the sunlight matching those of his tail, his eyes almost as blue as the ocean you floated on. His hair was wet and plastered to his forehead, his tanned skin covered in little droplets. 

“So, what did you bring me today my fine fishy friend?” 

Dick chuckled at the name, he hadn’t given you his name for his and your safety. Most likely nothing would come of it, but he couldn’t risk it. Not when you began to mean more to him than a simple trade partner. 

Lifting his bag out of the ocean water, Dick sat it on the floor of your boat. Inside you saw beautiful shells, and even fresh pearls right out of the clam. Dick watched your expression morph into wonder as you looked at them all. The way your eyes lit up made his stomach flip. 

“These are beautiful! You didn’t fight off a vicious shark or something did you?” 

Dick’s laughter rang through your ears, flexing his arms making his bicep curl. “Oh totally,” he grinned, looking at you. “The toughest of sharks, through the darkest of depths.” 

Leaning over the edge of the boat, you smiled at him. “Well, you are very brave,” you beamed, fluffing his ego. “I have some little trinkets from back home that I thought you would like.” 

Reaching into your satchel, you rummaged around to find the items you planned to give to him. Lucky for you, your merman friend was easily satisfied with mere human trinkets. You pulled out a candelabra, it wasn’t old but it was a little scuffed and dirty.

Nonetheless, the excitement on his face when you handed it to him made your world that much brighter. It humbled you some to see just how something so simple could make your fishy friend so happy. 

Taking it from you, Dick eagerly turned it around in his hands and put it on his head. “Does it work like this?” he asked. 

Covering your laughter, you nodded, not having the heart to tell him otherwise. 

“It looks perfect,” Leaning over the edge of the boat, you rested your arms on the rim with your chin on top. 

Who’d have thought that you’d make friends with a creature of the sea, a creature that was undeniably handsome in his own right. It wasn’t until the sun began to set that you noticed how late you were getting back home. Sadly the kingdom wasn’t going to run itself, even when you had advisors to help. 

Dick turned to see the sunsetting and a sad smile formed on his face. His time with you was growing short, and he hated it every time. If only there was something within his power he could do to stay with you longer, but Bruce would never go for that. 

Letting out a sigh, Dick pulled himself up to look at you. “When can I see you again?” he couldn’t hide the hope in his voice, as he watched you like you were the only person on Earth. 

Meeting his gaze, you couldn’t fight the smile at his excitement but you knew this wasn’t going to last forever. 

“How about three days from now, same time?” 

Dick nodded vigorously. “Sounds perfect, see you then human.” 

“See you then, fishboy.” you smiled, before waving and rowing off back towards the shore. 

Watching as you disappeared beyond the horizon, Dick dove back under the water holding his new treasure close to him. He couldn’t help but feel all the more happier after his meetings with you, and it wasn’t just the new treasures each time. 

Dick thought the way you smiled was adorable, and how you seemed to hang on every word from one of his stories made him feel like he was swimming on air. 

Swimming his way to his hideout, Dick quietly snuck in before storing it with all the new things you gave him. It occurred to Dick that he never asked what it was called though, he’ll just have to ask you in a few days. 

Once he knew it was safe, Dick made his way out and back home. 

The undersea kingdom was anything but dull. The coral palace glimmered in the light reflecting through the surface, as Dick approached it. He knew it would be late by the time he came home, but Dick had to meet you again. 

Lucky for him, the patrol may have been thorough, but they didn’t account for five younger siblings who would cover for him. Looking up towards his room, Dick could see Tim poking his head out the window and waving him on frantically. 

Taking one look around, Dick swam up and in his window before any of the guards came back. Letting himself fall onto his bed, Dick let out a sigh. 

“Thanks, Tim.” he chuckled. 

“Don’t thank me, it was Duke who memorized the route and Cass who made sure Bruce was out before you got home.” 

Looking around, Dick noticed that it was only Tim who was there waiting for him. Judging by the dull red and yellow scales on his face, he was exhausted. Where was Jason, and Damian? There was no sign of green or red anywhere. He assumed Duke and cass were off distracting Bruce. 

“You look tired Timmers, why don’t you get some rest?” 

Tim spared his brother a look, “I can't, I have to plan this thing and Steph promised to help me out.” 

“Speaking of our purple friend, how is she?” 

Slumping down on the bed beside him, Tim leaned on his shoulder. “She’s good, school has been treating her well.” 

“Good, but hey thanks for helping me out again.” 

Tim nodded with a smile, “We’re family, what are we supposed to do?” 

“Keep him inside, that would be a good place to start.”

Glancing at the door, Dick watched Jason swim his way in with a glare on his face. 

“Nice to see you too, Jay.” 

Crossing his arms, Jason came to a stop in front of him. “One of these days, you’re going to get caught or worse.”

“Since when did you become the voice of reason?”

“Since I died, Timbo.” 

Dick rolled his eyes, “I’m being safe. She doesn’t know my name, let alone that I’m royalty or even where the castle is. We meet not too far off the coast from where she lives, and–” 

“And, humans can’t be trusted.” 

“Jason will you–” 

“No, I will not. Dick, there is more to think about than just yourself. What do you think would happen if you got hurt by a human?” 

“I won’t–” 

Jason let out an annoyed groan, pulling at his own hair. The dark red scales on his face seeming to get brighter with his anger. “Enough with the I won’t! You’ll never know until you do get hurt!” 

This seemed to be an opportune time for Duke to swim into the room with an uneasy look on his face. “Am I interrupting?” 

“Yes–” 

“No–” 

“Well, whatever this is, shelve it cause Bruce needs you Dick.” 

Letting out a groan, Dick dropped his head before rising off the bed. “Alright, I’ll be on my way in a second.” Casting Jason and Tim one last look, Dick gave them a smile. 

“I’ll be okay, you just have to trust me.” With that, he swam out of the room passing Damian and Cassandra on his way to the throne room. 

Waving at them, Dick flashed his signature smile and continued on his way. Whatever it was that Bruce wanted to talk to him about, Dick wanted it over and done with quickly so he could show Wally his new thingamabob?

No, that didn’t sound right. Whatchamajig?

No. Dick settled with calling it a new headdress and left it at that. 

The guards in front of the throne room opened the doors for him, letting Dick enter the massive room where Bruce sat talking to his most trusted advisor, Alfred the crab. 

Alfred had been at Bruce’s side since before Dick was ever adopted, basically raising him when his parents died. Seemed to be a common theme for them. 

Swimming up to the tall throne, he stopped just short of Bruce and raised a brow. “What’s up B? Duke said you needed me for something?” 

Breaking his conversation with Alfred, Bruce turned to look at his oldest. “Ah, yes. I do indeed need to speak with you about a rather important matter.” 

“I’ll be taking my leave Master Bruce, I’ll be in my chambers.” 

“Very well, get some rest.” 

Alfred nodded and made his way out of the room, leaving Dick and Bruce alone. A long silence stretched between them, Dick folding his hands behind his back while his tail kept him afloat. Bruce however, was as stoic as always. 

He watched Dick with a calculated glance, as if he was trying to figure out to break some ocean secrets to him. 

It didn’t calm Dick’s nerves at all.

Letting out a sigh, Bruce rose out of the chair. “You know I want what’s best for you, right? For all of you?” 

Dick nodded, “Yeah, it’s the whole point of being a dad.”

Bruce smiled at that, “You’re right. But it’s not just you all that I need to watch out for, I have a whole kingdom that needs my attention and sometimes that means making sacrifices.” 

Dick did not like where this was going. 

“I want you taken care of Dick, and if that means joining forces with a neighboring kingdom then so be it.” 

“Bruce, we’ve all been okay enough with only one parental figure. Not sure how Dami would take it if you married someone other than Talia, but he would come around I’m sure.” 

“I’m not talking about myself, Dick. You’ve been on good terms with the princess of Tameran for a long time, her parents and I agreed that it would benefit both of our kingdoms if we united in a bond more sacred than a simple treaty.” 

Dick really did not like where this was going, at all. “And what kind of bond is that, B?” 

“You and Kori are set to be married before the end of the season.” 

There was a really long pause, the only thing to be heard was Dick’s breath catching in his throat. The look on Bruce’s face told Dick that he was completely serious, and that there was little room for compromise. 

“Bruce, did you even think to ask me before you agreed?” 

“Dick, I–” 

His face grew hot, and his temper flared. “You what, Bruce? You decided to marry me off without so much as telling me, let alone asking if I wanted to marry her?” 

“This isn’t just something you refuse, Dick.” Bruce stated, narrowing his eyes. “I’m doing this for you and the good of the kingdom.” 

“For me!? Bruce! How is this for me?” he snapped. 

The dark scales on Bruce’s face flared with his anger. “You are my son, and I know what is best for you. You are marrying Princess Koriand’r and that is final.” 

Turning away from him, Dick scoffed at his back. “So that’s it? You’re just going to tell me how to live my life, not even bothering to ask if it will make me happy?” 

Bruce kept his back to him with a frown. “You’ll understand when you have children of your own.” 

“Yeah, I’ll understand the fact that marrying them off is barbaric, no matter who it’s to. I’m not getting married Bruce, I–” 

“I am your father and you’re getting married!” 

“No you’re not, and you can’t make me.” Before either of them said another word, Dick swam off out of the room ignoring the shouts from behind him.

How could Bruce do this to him, let alone without asking? He’d never do this to any of the others, it didn’t matter if he was the oldest. It wasn’t fair, Dick loved Kori but they weren’t more than friends. 

The only person he wanted to marry was from another world, and he couldn’t have you. 

Disappearing through the seaweed forest, Dick didn’t stop until he made it to his secret hideaway. Pushing back the stone, Dick moved behind it before it closed shut. He needed to be alone, and think. 

There was no way he was getting married, he had to make Bruce see reason. 

“Hey, uh Dick? You okay?” 

Jumping at the sound of his friend’s voice, Dick swerved to see a certain orange little fish. 

“Wally, what are you doing here?” 

“You think I didn’t know you were meeting your little human friend?” 

“You’re a fish, what do you know?” 

“Enough to know that you are half fish, and that it would never work between you and her. Not unless you planned on selling your soul to the sea demon or something.” 

That piqued Dick’s interest, “Say that again?” 

Wally held his flippers over his mouth. “What? I didn’t say anything.” 

Swimming closer, Dick leaned closer coming face to face with Wally. “No, you said something. Sea demon? You mean Slade? You think he would work something out so I can be with her?” 

Shaking his head, Wally gasped. “You can’t make a deal with him! There is always a cost with his deals, you know that!” 

Whatever argument Wally had, it wasn’t going to work. Dick’s mind was already made up, he was going to make a deal with Slade and get out of this ridiculous marriage. Ignoring Wally’s protests, Dick looked around for one last thing. Depending on what happened to him, he wanted to bring one last gift for you. 

Letting out a little “aha”, he wrapped his hand around the little bit of sea glass and tied it to a string he had laying around before pulling it over his head. 

“Dick! You can’t be seriously thinking about this!” 

“Wally, you’re not going to be able to stop me so just come with me.” 

“And where would that be, Master Richard?” 

Dick stilled in his place and turned to see Alfred there, with an unamused look on his face. 

“Dick is going to see Slade and make a deal!” 

“Master Richard, I strongly advise against that. You know as well as I that Slade is not to be trusted.” 

Dick sighed, “You’re not going to change my mind. Either you’re coming with me, or you’re staying.” 

Wally and Alfred shared a look. “Alright fine.” 

With that, Dick swam out of his hideaway and towards the darkest depths of the ocean. 

Throughout the journey, Wally and Alfred tried their hardest to convince Dick to stop and go back and try to talk it out with Bruce. But if they knew anything, Dick was just as stubborn as Bruce if not more so. Getting him to change his mind would take a miracle. 

“Master Richard, please listen to reason!” Alfred called as he swam after him. 

“You and I both know Bruce is never going to change his mind. I love Kori, but we are just friends.” 

“But Dick! This is Slade we are talking about! He–” 

“Wally, I will leave you out here in the middle of the ocean if you tell me he is a soul sucking monster one more time.” 

The rest of the journey was silent, Dick’s two companions deciding to drop the argument for now.

The further they swam, the darker the water got, until it was almost pitch black with an odd glow off in the distance. A shiver ran up Dick’s spine at the sudden temperature change. He knew they were getting closer because the plant life around them was beginning to die, turning a sick yellow color, before it was all black and wilted. 

Pushing himself between a large crack in a cave, Dick came upon the sight of a massive cave with the same purple light shining through the entrance. Taking a deep breath, Dick squared his shoulders and swam towards the entrance. 

Wally and Alfred stuck close to Dick’s side, not liking the sudden change in atmosphere. The cave was cold and dark as the three of them slowly made their way through, following the sound of clanging bottles and idle chatter. 

Was someone else already here? 

Chewing his lip, Dick slowly swam towards the opening in front of them. Having heard lots of stories about Slade, Dick wasn’t sure what to expect. He’s heard that Slade and Bruce used to be friends, there were even rumors that he had something to do with Jason coming back from the dead, and even that he had a hand in many of the other tragedies that happened. 

All rumors for the simple fact no one could prove anything, not even Bruce. 

The only rumor that reigned true, was the fact Slade was half octopus, cursed by Bruce as punishment for the crimes they could prove against him.

Dick opened his mouth to speak before he was interrupted. 

“What brings you here, young prince?” 

It was like Dick’s voice was stolen from him. “I–I–” he stammered, trying to come up with a proper answer. 

Maybe Alfred and Wally were right, this was a bad idea. 

“You want me to help you and your little human friend be together, is that it?” 

Dick stared at his back, confusion written all over his face. 

“How did you know that?” 

A smirk grew on Slade’s face before he turned to look at the young merprince with him. 

“They don’t call me Slade the Sea Demon for no reason, kid.” 

“I’m not a kid.” 

“Sure.”

Dick’s face grew hot. Just who did this octopus bastard think he was? “So what if that’s the reason I’m here?” 

Slade’s grin only grew, “So what?” he asked. “It’s the fact you came to me to make a deal,” 

Swimming closer, Slade crossed his arms over his chest and stared Dick down. “I know everything that goes on in this ocean, more than Bruce ever did. He doesn’t have the guts to go to the lengths I will to ensure things are running smoothly, and none of them included an arranged marriage.” 

Listening to his words, Dick was even more confused. Just what was so bad about him? 

“So you know then, I am to be married off to someone I don’t love.” 

“Of course I know, I know everything down to the darkest desires of your heart Richard. And that is why you came to me.” 

Dick swallowed hard, watching as Slade leaned down in his face. “Then you know what I want.” 

“And what is that?” 

“I want you to make me human.” 

Moving so he was upright, Slade hummed. “For a spell like that, it takes a magically binding contract. Completely unbreakable, even by me.” he explained, pulling one out of thin air and holding the golden document in front of Dick. 

“But this isn’t a get a spell for free card kid, I need proper payment for this or you’ll become like everyone else.” 

Dick’s face turned uncertain at those words. “What do you mean, like everyone else?” 

All Slade did was point behind the three visitors, and it was then Dick saw the garden of dead plants behind them. But dead plants don’t normally have eyes. 

They weren’t plants he realized, they were living creatures reaching out for him to help them. Their voices were hoarse and weak, calling out his name like they knew him. 

Quickly turning back to Slade, Dick glared. “What did you do to them?” he demanded. 

“I did nothing. They didn’t hold up their end of the agreement.” 

It was starting to set in that this was probably Dick’s worst idea yet. 

“If I were to go through with this, what would you want from me?” 

Slade tapped his chin in thought, resting back against his massive cauldron as if he was mulling over his options. “Alright kid, you want me to make you human? Trade your voice for legs, and you will have three days to make this girl fall in love with you. If you fail, you will turn back into a merman, and you will belong to me.” 

“I–” he stopped. “You want my voice?” 

Slade nodded. 

“Without my voice how can I tell her–” 

“You’re smart. I’m sure you’ll figure something out with those baby blues of yours.” he grinned. 

Dick’s face grew hot, losing his voice couldn’t be that bad. It was a lot better than being forced into a marriage, and Dick knew he loved you and that he would do anything for you. 

“I’ll do it.” 

“Dick no!” 

Before Wally or Alfred could object further, Slade’s tentacles wrapped around them and their mouths effectively shutting them up.

Slade’s face morphed into something Dick couldn’t recognize. “Perfect.” 

Pulling out the contract, Slade held it out in front of him with a quill. “Sign the dotted line, and you’ll be human Prince Richard.”

Glancing at his friends, and Slade, Dick hesitated. Was this really the right thing to do?

Feeling the weight of the sea glass around his neck, Dick grasped it in his hand and let out a breath. Grabbing the quill, he signed his name on the dotted line. 

Suddenly, the whole cave turned dark and Dick couldn’t see anything. “Remember Richard, three days.” Slade’s voice echoed. 

There was a flash followed by a loud crack, and Dick couldn’t breathe anymore. Looking around, he saw Wally and Alfred coming right at him with a worried look on their face. Black spots clouded Dick’s vision. What was going on? 

Clinging to Wally and Alfred for dear life, they swam as fast as they could to the surface before Dick drowned. Breaching the surface, Dick held onto Wally as they floated, gasping for air. Glancing down, instead of his tail Dick saw a pair of legs. 

An excited expression formed on his face before he turned to his friend. Opening his mouth to speak, Dick frowned as nothing came out. 

Slade’s voice echoed in his mind. Dick had three days to kiss you, or he would turn back and be a slave to Slade for all eternity. 

What has he done?

Taglist: @bluejay-the-geek​ @offendedfishnoises​ @littleredwing89​ @niggxrette​ @batarella​ @urlocalpari​ @restwellsoon​ 

[starwrighter]

I would like to know what types of leviathans the batfam are, please and thank you!

I'm mostly making things up as I go but I'll tell you what I've got now.

Bruce is a descendant of the Gargantuan leviathan we find skeletal remains of in the lost river (Much smaller now)

Damian is half ghost and half Gargantuan ( Precursor helped this happen,)

Dick is based on Ampeels but is more like an electric water snake with arms.

Duke is based on beta fish but has similar coloring to hover fish,

I'm debating on having Tim based on crab squids (they look so dumb T.T)

That's all I got so far, If anyone has any ideas they'd like to share take your shot.

[northernbluetongue]

👻👻👻

Like Beta Fish Do- Part 3

Part 1 and Prompt Part 2 wc: 1263

“Sorry for intruding on your haunt! Total accident. Please don’t disembowel me. Sorry again,” Dick read off the card that had been tucked into the gift basket. He glanced from the card, to the rest of the assembled batclan, and back to the card in confusion.

Of course Dick had insisted on coming with Jason to check over Crime Alley. Of course when they found the basket Dick had insisted on bringing it back to the Cave to be tested for poisons—

“They’re bathbombs, who’s going to fucking poison bathbombs.”

“We’ve seen weirder, Jaybird.”

—and so of course the whole family was there now.

Before Dick had even let them move the basket, he checked it out for basic booby traps. (To be fair, this was the first thing Jason did too.) Once the basked had been to the Cave, it was checked over, again, by various Bats. Then, Tim had taken all the contents to run a chemical analysis on the chocolate and bathbombs (seriously, who poisons bathbombs?). And finally, Bruce gave the all clear on examining the basket itself.

Dick had snagged the little card out of it’s little envelope before Jason could even make a grab for it and read off the message. “’Please don’t disembowel me’? What the fuck, Jason.”

Jason raised his hands up with a shrug. “Don’t ask me. Sure, ‘please don’t behead me’ I could get—” he ignored the slight flinch that caused from Tim and Bruce— “But pretty sure word has gotten around that killing isn’t really my sort of MO anymore.”

Thankfully the computer beeped before they could get into all that.

Again.

Tim read over the results before announcing, “Report came back clean on everything.”

“Huh.” Dick seemed actually surprised by that. Jason was feeling really fucking done with his family.

“Perhaps a chemical inside the bathbombs that will explode when exposed to water?” Damian suggested.

Really fucking done.

“We do all get how messed up it is that your brains go there, right?” Duke asked. (Duke might be Jason’s favorite at the moment.)

“Can’t be that,” Tim said, ignoring Duke’s comment about their mental stability with practiced ease. “I took a sample core all the way to the center. It really is just a basket with bathbombs and some chocolate.”

“Sweet,” Stephanie said as she made a lunge for the box of chocolates. Jason quickly pulled the basket and its contents out of reach.

“Back off, it’s my gift,” Jason said with a snarl that was only half for show. As much as he had calmed back down, he still felt tense— like there was a heavy weight in the center of his chest.

Damian gave him a wholly unimpressed look. “Why? Do you deserve it for, and I quote, not disemboweling someone?”

“I mean, I haven’t,” Jason said with a shrug as he grabbed his helmet; the gift basket was tucked securely under the other arm.

“Jason, we have to talk about this,” Bruce said in that tone of his; the one that implied Jason was making a stupid mistake. The one he always seemed to have—

Jason shook the thoughts away. He didn’t need to tempt the Pit today by doing down that path. He could feel that green tinged anger lurking on the edge of his mind already. He kept heading to his bike. If he got out of here, the temptation to pick a fight would go away. He knew that. He just had to make the choice to walk away from the fight. “Fuck no. Look. I’ll check my system and put up new cameras or some shit, okay?”

The footage on every camera he had up around the exterior of his apartment had either shown nothing at all or had glitched out into a fuzz of static. There had been someone at his door— a slight person, dark clothing— but that's as much detail as they could get. Which was, sure, concerning, but seemed like no harm no foul. (Not that the rest of the family agreed with that assessment.)

“I’ll bring over some better cameras in a few days and check through your system,” Tim said, already turning his attention to the task.

Jason didn’t want that.

He didn’t want anyone else messing with his system. But he was starting to understand that having his hands on the information of his family was Tim’s way of showing he cared. Jason hated it, but he understood it, so he’d allow it. He owed Tim more than a little acceptance. He owed Tim so much.

“Sure thing, Replacement.”

-----

Jason spent hours going over every inch of his place when he returned. None of the traps or markers had been triggered to show that anyone had actually come inside his space. The feeling he had experienced at dinner hadn’t come back. All that he felt was a slight unease and that was easy enough to dismiss as lingering feelings from earlier in the day. It wasn’t any worse than a Pit hangover.

Finally, satisfied that his place was secure, Jason sank down onto his couch with a huff of air.

The gift basket mocked him from where it sat on the coffee table. He’d dumped it there when he first came in, ignoring the odd present in favor of making sure that his place was safe. It would have been convenient for someone to break in and set up a trap while they were off dealing with the basket, but no one had. Now both him and the Pit were settled and the basket was still there.

Who the fuck gave bathbombs for not being disemboweled?

Leaning forward, arms resting on his knees, Jason plucked out the card. It was a simple thing, just a bit of cream cardstock in a little envelope. No logo or distinguishing features. The writing was a scrawled, half cursive— just this side of legible. Distinctive, but not any handwriting that Jason recognized. It wasn’t signed.

That would have been too easy.

That was the real issue of it all, wasn’t it? Who would leave a note like that for him? Jason Todd shouldn’t be getting a note like that. Red Hood, sure, he could understand getting such a message. He hated it a little, now that he was further away from the worst of the Pit Rage, but he got it. But him as Jason? Reclusive, miraculously returned son of Bruce Wayne? Jason shouldn’t have anyone afraid of him like that.

It spoke to someone knowing of his life as vigilante turned crime boss turned vigilante again, and that was dangerous. It was dangerous for him. It was dangerous for his family. It was dangerous for Crime Alley.

It was just another fucking thing he had to deal with. As if it wasn’t enough to having only recently, officially, returned to the living. There was also the work he was trying to do as Red Hood, the work he was trying to do for Crime Alley as Jason, and the effort of trying to spend more time with his family (preferably without stabbing anyone). Now he had this mystery too.

Maybe the bathbombs actually were a good gift and didn’t that idea make him scowl. When was the last time he’d actually taken some time to just relax? It had to be a while with the size that his ‘to read’ pile had grown to was any indication.

He could use one. They were just bathbombs.

He could run a warm bath, relax, crack open a book, eat some chocolate… and just try not to worry for a bit. Nothing was going to be solved tonight. Bruce had ordered him off patrol— which normally wouldn’t stop him, but Cass had given him big worried eyes too. There were no other pressing matters. His apartment was secure…

Fuck it. He grabbed the little basket and headed to the bathroom.

Time for some self care.

-----

AN: We'll likely get a Danny scene to cap chapter 2 off, but I though this was a nice little bundle to post! And my poor migraine is going to get even worse with the Artic front so wanted to get this posted~

Thank you all for such a lovely response on the other parts! This will be going up on ao3, but I want to get at least three chapters done first to get a little buffer. Everyone who asked should be in the tag list (as of yesterday), but if I missed you, or you want to be added, just let me know in the replies!

Stay delightful my darlings!

@fisticuffsatapplebees | @thegatorsgoose | @wolfeyedwitch | @lazy-bouqet | @confusedandghostly | @glomsk | @kailithiel | @bahfev | @d4ydr34min9 | @claudiashq | @someonebored0100 | @pastalavistamf | @samgirl98 | @angelheartgamer | @lehana37 | @spiteismymiddlename | @rosecinnamonbun | @demon-cat-goes-woof | @violet-catsarelife | @trickerdi | @avelnfear | @undead-essence | @basilf1res | @amillionandonefandoms | @stealingyourbones | @sarcastic-yami | @bun-fish | @aconitewolfsbane | @dontfightmecauseillcry | @omgnectarina

[noisynaia]

Dreaming of You

Chapter four: Damn Your Eyes

summary: An otherwise depressing night takes a turn when a pair of warm brown eyes belonging to a charming stranger lock with yours. Years later, at a different time of your life, a certain pair of brown eyes find their way back into your life.

word count: 3.3k 

pairing: Javier Peña x afab!reader 

note: (18+ mdni) No use of (y/n). The reader uses she/her pronouns and is shorter than Javier, but no other physical descriptions are used. This has not been beta-read and English is not my native language.

Can also be read on ao3

prevoius chapter￨playlist￨series masterlist￨next chapter

…I guess I just see what I wanna see,

Or is my heart just deceiving me?

I remember

Just how you made me wanna surrender…

Those damn eyes are haunting you for the rest of the day. They couldn’t have been Javier’s, of course not. Bumping into him after so many years, and in Laredo of all places… No, that would be too weird of a coincidence. But being reminded of him by bumping into that mystery man on Main Street had made you think back to that night so many years ago.

Javier had been such a brief acquaintance, but there was something about him that had left an impact. Maybe it was the fact that it had been some of the best sex of your life, or that he, despite sneaking out on you, had sent you flowers to thank you for the night you had spent together.

You feel terrible for thinking about it, but you just can’t help yourself. It had only been a one-night stand, but now your brain is full of the memories of him. It had been a good night, fun and carefree, but it really should just stay in the past. You are a married woman now, and there is no need to dwell on something you really shouldn’t.  Javier is nothing more than a distant memory, a blip in your past that has no relevance to your present life.

But still, those eyes keep haunting you. You try to shake them from your mind, focusing on the tasks at hand and trying to push those memories deep down as you go about your day, finishing your shift at the bookstore and getting groceries before heading back home again. There is no good reason for you to be thinking about another man, especially one that wasn’t even a significant part of your life.

Soon you’re back on your front porch, balancing bags of groceries in your arms as you try to fish your keys out of the pocket of your shorts. The weight of the bags makes it difficult, but you finally manage to fish them out and insert the key into the lock, giving it a twist to the right. With a click, the lock opens, and you push the door open with your hip.

Balancing the groceries carefully, you step inside, feeling a rush of relief as you can finally unload the heavy bags onto the kitchen counter. Bruce is in Austin for a business trip, so you have the house to yourself for the next few days. You hum softly as you start putting away the groceries, the mundane task helping to distract you from your swirling thoughts. 

But as you reach for a bag of sunflower seeds to put away in the pantry, bright yellow flowers printed across the plastic, you suddenly remember that you still have the card that came with the bouquet Javier sent you,  safely tucked away in a drawer, between the pages of your well-loved childhood copy of  ‘One Thousand and One Nights’. You probably shouldn’t have kept it, but for some reason, you just had not been able to throw it away.

You shake your head, trying to dispel the thought. It’s silly, ridiculous even, but despite trying to talk yourself out of it, you can’t help but go look for it. You find it, at the entry of  ‘The Tale of the Lover Who Feigned Himself A Thief’. The name of the flower shop is printed at the top of the card with the handwritten message underneath written in a, surprisingly, neat handwriting with a blue pen.  

Thank you for the other night.

— Javi.  

You’re staring at the card in your hand for a few seconds before putting it back, slamming the book shut, and tucking it away in the drawer again. There is no reason to entertain the thought of him. The rest of your day goes by as usual. You go on your walk with Bailey. You cook dinner while listening to one of your favorite vinyls. You have to admit to the convenience of CDs, but you always listen to vinyl when you’re home. Nothing beats the sound, and you have invested too much time and too much money in your records over the years to stop now.   

You have almost forgotten Javier completely by the time you get ready for bed, and you quickly fall into a deep dream-filled sleep after taking an Ambien.

“Preciosa,” he whispers against the skin of your collarbone before leaving wet kisses up the side of your neck. Warm calloused hands exploring your body.  

“So gorgeous,” he groans, sliding his hand further up your thigh, his fingers slowly running over the delicate lace as he reaches your garter. 

His features are blurry, like a memory, but the touch feels so real. 

“Want me to devour you, huh, hermosa?” his raspy voice whispers into your ear. 

“Yes, Javi! Please…” you whine.

Your heart is pounding hard in your chest as you bolt awake. Bailey had jumped up on the bed, waking you from the dream. 

“Shit…” you hiss, throwing your arm over your head with a groan, hiding your face in the crook off your elbow.

You take a few heavy breaths before throwing the light duvet off your body, making sure not to disturb Bailey, who now lays at the foot of the bed. The luminous digits on the clock radio only show 05:08, but you are feeling very awake and there’s no way you’re going to be able to fall back asleep again after that dream. Why the fuck did you have to dream about that?! You stand up and peel your soaked panties down your legs to toss them into the hamper before heading straight to the bathroom. You will need a long shower after this.

A week goes by, Bruce has returned from Austin, and you have almost forgotten about how you were reminded of Javier and the effect that reminder had on you… You have just finished sorting some books in the backroom of the bookstore, and now you’re reading in an old, yellow paged paperback copy of ‘Wuthering Heights’, which looks like it had been a highschool distribution a student had forgotten to turn in and eventually had donated. You know the story, you had also read it in highschool just like half of the population, but there are no customers and nothing for you to do so why not read a little. 

Heathcliff is in the middle of begging for Cathy’s ghost to haunt and torment him for the rest of his life when the little bell over the door chimes. In walks Chucho Peña, politely removing his hat from his head as he enters and gives you a friendly nod with his greeting. 

Chucho is one of your most frequent customers, and by far your favorite. He is the picture-perfect example of a real Texan vaquero, sporting an impressive and well-groomed mustache, and you don’t remember ever seeing him without his faithful stetson, either on his head or in hand. 

“Welcome!” You greet him with a big smile as you close the book, letting Heathcliff wallow in his sorrow without you. “Haven’t seen you in a while, started to be afraid I had lost my favorite customer,” you say with a smile. You really have missed your talks with Chucho, he is one of the few people in Laredo you don’t feel like is secretly judging you behind their back. He had even invited you out to the ranch once after you had mentioned that there aren’t any good places in town for Bailey to run free. You have never actually got around to visit, but you do really appreciate the sentiment. 

“My son came home from Colombia a few weeks ago, so I’ve had to make sure he got settled in nicely.”

“Oh,” you reply. A son that came home from Colombia a few weeks ago… 

Realization hits you like a truck. You had convinced yourself that the man you had bumped into last week simply just had looked like Javier, but now Chucho’s is telling you about a son coming back from Colombia, just as you randomly had been reminded of Javier again after so many years, what are the damn odds...  

You already knew that Chucho has a son, and you have heard some of the town’s tale-tellers mention ‘Chuco’s boy’, or ‘the Peña kid’ a few times in passing. But you have always tried your hardest to not involve yourself with the small-town gossip, so you have always made an effort to never listen to what was said.

“He worked for the DEA down there,” Chucho continues. “It has been hard for him, and maybe even harder to come back here. I just hope he finds some peace, lord knows he deserves some. He should find himself a nice girl and maybe settle down…” The elderly man shakes his head with a small smile. “Too bad Bruce got to you first, but I guess you wouldn’t even be here in Laredo if he hadn’t.” 

“No, I probably wouldn’t,” you agree, smiling back but suddenly feeling weirdly nauseous. Chucho’s vague implication catches you off guard, and you find yourself imagining having sweet, humorous Chucho Peña as your father-in-law instead of the emotionally repressed William Price.

A little silence settles over the store before you gather the courage to continue. “I think I might already have met him…”

Chucho looks surprised. “You’ve met Javi?”

Javi… Oh, how small the world is. You try to keep your composure, but your heart is racing in your chest. Now you have your confirmation, it was Javier you had bumped into. 

You nod affirmatively at Chuchos question, not mentioning that it was years ago in San Antonio.

Chucho smiles. “Just don’t hold anything you hear about him against him. I might be biased as his father, but he is a good man.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. If people around here knew a little more about me I think I would be the topic of a lot more gossip than I already am,” you let out a humorless laugh at your confession.

Chucho just gives you a sympathetic look before going to check the crime-noir section, changing the topic as he peruses the shelves.

—

Javier is sitting on the front porch of the house, lighting a cigarette with a sigh. It is only lunchtime, but he is already more tired than an old shoe. He has been up since the fucking crack of dawn. He had had a nightmare. It was a memory from Colombia that had run on a loop until he had finally woken up, covered in cold sweat, and not able to fall back asleep. Felipe, the red barn cat, is laying in a sunbeam at the other end of the porch, sleeping without a care in the world and Javier is not above envying a cat at this point. 

He takes a drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke fill his lungs and momentarily calm his racing thoughts. He looks out at the view of the grazing cattle, trying to appreciate the beauty of it all. But it’s a bit lost on him. 

Just then, he hears the sound of an approaching car. Javier squints in the sunlight and sees his father’s truck approach, he greets him with a raised hand as Chucho’s blue truck rolls up the driveway, the wheels swirling up dust from the gravel road. Chucho parks the truck next to the porch and steps out of the truck, a tired smile on his weathered face.

“Hey hijo, how’s your day been so far?” Chucho asks, making his way over to Javier.

“Just another day in paradise, I guess,” Javier replies with a shrug, taking another drag from his cigarette. “Got everything you needed?” he then asks, letting a ribbon of smoke escape through his lips as Chucho makes it up the steps to the front porch.  

“Most of it. Stopped by the post office, but they said my package won’t be there till tomorrow. Can you maybe swing by and get it for me?” 

“Sure, I’ll swing by town tomorrow,” Javier says, still not particularly fond of going into town, but he knows that he’ll have to get over it. 

Chucho lights a cigarette of his own. “I understand you have met my friend from the bookstore.” 

Javier sends his father a confused look. 

“The young woman who married the Price boy, she told me she had met you,” Chuho elaborates. 

Javier has no idea what his father is talking about. Alvaro, an old highschool buddy, one of the few people he has reconnected with after returning, had mentioned that Bruce had got married when he gave him the mandatory ‘what’s new in town’ talk, but Javier has no idea who the woman is. 

Javier shakes his head as he flicks the ash from his cigarette. “I can’t say that I have, pops.” 

“Well, she told me she has met you…” Chucho says with a simple shrug of his shoulders, stepping into the house with the groceries, but not before letting a book land in Javier’s lap as he passes him on the porch.

“Thought you might need some night reading.” The older man says gently.

Javier mumbles a ‘thanks’, but Chucho is already inside the house when it comes over his lips. He stays out on the porch for another while, chain smoking as he begins to read the first chapter of the book. He doesn’t want to go back inside yet, he didn’t know that his father had noticed his sleep problems. But of course he had figured it out, a person can only wake up screaming from night terrors so many times before the other people living under the same roof begin to notice.

Javier doesn’t ask more about the woman at the bookstore, but he does wonder who his dad could have been talking about. He has made an effort to not meet with any women since he came back to Loredo, which his shower drain can confirm, he doesn’t think he has jerked off this much since he was a teenager. He reads a few more chapters, getting more hooked on the book than he had thought he would, it has been years since he had time to read for pleasure, before heading inside. 

The rest of the day passes by uneventfully, and he miraculously actually manages to get a whole night of sleep. Soon the next day dawns and after a shower and some breakfast Javier gets ready to head into town. The rabbit tobacco at the side of the road swaying gently in the light breeze as he drives towards town.

He stops by the convenience store first to get himself a few packs of cigarettes, some nicotine gum, and a bottle of Tylenol. His back has been acting up lately. He goes by the post office next, getting his father’s package.

With the parcel safely in hand, he gets back to his truck, glad that he hadn’t run into anyone he didn’t want to see. He opens the door of the passenger seat, placing his dad’s package on the seat before closing the door again. He takes out a cigarette from his new pack, leaning his back against the closed passenger door, crossing one leg over the other as he picks out his lighter from the pocket of his jeans, sucking life into the cigarette before blowing smoke out through his nose with a sight as he looks down the street. His eyes land on the sign for the bookstore, the chipped paint making the words barely legible. His father’s comment from yesterday comes back to him , making him curious.          

“What the hell,” he mumbles to himself, stomping out his cigarette and popping a piece of gum into his mouth. Javier’s curiosity gets the best of him.

—

You are organizing some boxes with donated books in the backroom when you hear the bell over the front door ringing; indicating a customer has stepped into the store. “I’ll be there in just a sec,” you chime, putting the last box down before stepping back into the store.  

A man is standing by the door with his back turned to you, but he turns around as he hears you enter the room, his eyes locking with yours and you feel your stomach drop. The way his strong jaw flexes as he chews down on the piece of gum in his mouth does things to you that it shouldn’t. 

 It’s him… Javier.

His eyes widen with recognition. And to your surprise your name falls from his lips in a questioning tone. 

“Yeah… Hi,” you reply nervously, trying to keep your cool, but failing, finding yourself absolutely dumbfounded by his sudden presence. The dream you had last week comes back to you and you feel your face heat up. Since when did you become so skittish? He is just a man, an incredibly handsome man that you just happened to have slept with once… 

“Hi,” he replies, and an awkward silence falls over the little store. 

“So, uh… You’re from Laredo, huh,” you finally state, trying to pull yourself together, feeling like you need to say something.  

“Yeah, I am,” he says with a nod. 

“Fun… I-I mean what are the odds?” You stumble over your words. 

“Yeah, here of all places,” he laughs a little and a bit of the tension disappears. 

“And you’re back for good?” you can’t help but ask.  

He gives you a little shrug of his shoulder. “Yeah, looks like it.”

Another beat of silence stretches between you, but this time he is the one to break it.

“Congrats by the way,” he says, nodding his head towards your hand where you, without even having been aware of it, have been fidgeting with the ring on your finger. “I should maybe call you Mrs. Price now?” 

“Please don’t,” you say with a low chuckle and a shake of your head. “Makes me sound so old.”  

You don’t tell him that you didn’t take Bruce’s last name when you married him, it is yet another thing that makes you stand out in town, but you have never been the traditional type after all. 

“Well, I just came to have a look. But uhm… I’ll better get going,” he says. You don’t mention that he hasn’t looked at a single book. “Say hello to Bruce from me,” he says with a tight-lipped smile. You didn’t know that Javier and your husband knew each other, but in a place where pretty much everybody knows everybody, it shouldn’t be too surprising. 

“I will… And say hi to your dad from me, I hope he likes his new book,” you say, watching as he walks to the door. 

He doesn’t tell you that the book actually lies on his own nightstand. “Sure, I will… Guess I might see you around then.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” you nod, wiping your hands on your thighs, your palms suddenly feeling clammy.

“It was nice seeing you again.” He offers you a more genuine smile, this time it reaches his eyes, making that gorgeous dimple show…   

You just nod in response, suddenly unable to form a proper response, but you gather some courage before he leaves out the door.

“Javi,” you call out after him, his hand already on the door handle.

He stops in his tracks, already halfway through the door he turns around to look back at you with those deep umber eyes of his. 

You offer him a small smile. “Thank you for the flowers, back then… They were really lovely.”

“Thought they fit you… And I really did have a good night” 

And with that, he leaves the store, the bell above the door jingling softly behind him. The scent of his musky cologne lingers in the air, mixing with the smell of old books, or maybe you simply imagine that it does. You are fucked.

…Damn your eyes

For getting my hopes up high

For making me fall in love again

Damn your eyes!

For taking my breath away

I fall completely under your spell

Damn your eyes...

Damn Your Eyes, Etta James

@emilianamason

[late-to-the-party-81]

I've always wanted you [but not like this]

AN: Here’s a dark, angsty piece for you. Please read the CW - Steve is not nice in this.

Thanks to @buckyismyconstant for beta-ing. Moodboard by me and dividers by @firefly-graphics

This fic fills the following Bingo squares

@stuckybingo B5: Hate Sex

@steverogersbingo E3: Came Back Wrong

Master list | Stucky Bingo Master list | SRB Master list

Join my tag list here.

Summary: When Steve reappeared on the platform Bucky knew something was wrong, he just didn’t realise how wrong at first.

Relationship: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 2.1k

CW: Not Endgame Compliant, Dark Steve Rogers, Unrequited love, Angst, Hurt no Comfort, Dub Con bordering on Non Con, Precum as lube, Spit as lube, Anal sex, Degradation, Humiliation, Top Steve, Bottom Bucky, Low Self-esteem, No aftercare, gaslighting, Internalised homophobia.

Bucky knew something was wrong as soon as Steve walked off the platform, because Steve hadn’t been planning on coming back at all — he’d told Bucky as much before he’d suited up to return the stones. It had broken Bucky’s heart to hear that his best friend was leaving him behind to have a life with Peggy, but if it was what Steve wanted, then he’d do his best to support him. It wasn’t Steve’s fault that Bucky was madly in love with him and that Steve only saw him as a brother; it had been like that their whole lives. Why would it change now?

“Aren’t you glad to see me, Buck?” Steve said as he stepped down and clapped his friend on the shoulder. Bucky could only manage to gape like a fish, his mouth opening and closing silently twice as he tried to process everything. What had happened?

To everyone else, all seemed normal. Now that Thanos was defeated, the Snap reversed and the stones returned, it was time to properly move on, but Bucky just felt as though he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Pepper organised the rebuilding of the compound — Shield and the Avengers needed a base after all — and that’s where Bucky found himself living. He didn’t really have another choice. Sam stayed there when he wasn’t in DC and Bruce visited from time to time, so it was mainly just him in the personal quarters in the evening. Or rather, him and Steve. Apparently he had nowhere else to go either. With the original tenant of his apartment returning after the Blip, and Steve himself not planning on returning from the 1940s, he was left in the same situation as Bucky.

So it was just the two of them, like a strange reflection of the past. Similar, but different. Steve and Bucky. Bucky and Steve. Steve, who seemed to be invading Bucky’s personal space more than he used to. Steve, who now seemed to maintain eye contact just that little bit longer than was comfortable. 

Was Bucky imagining it? Or had something changed? That small, unextinguishable, hopeful part of him wanted that to be true. 

If Bucky’s tongue poked out of his mouth to moisten his lips, Steve was watching. If he was coming out of the shower in just his towel, Steve was watching. However, why did something that he’d wanted for so long feel so wrong? Why did every hand brushing over his hip and waist in a confined space send an unwelcomed kind of shiver down his spine? 

He’d tried to ask Steve about his change of plans on a couple of occasions, but his friend had just deflected, giving him a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You mean you’re not glad to have me here, Buck? And here I was thinking you couldn’t live without me.”

Eventually, Bucky gave up asking. Steve would tell him if he wanted to and in his own time. And Bucky had his own things going on. Therapy for one. Learning to live free in the world  with all the knowledge of what he’d done when he’d been under Hydra’s control was not easy.

A quiet night. Dark and relatively peaceful. 

Bucky padded into his room and pulled his t-shirt over his head, ready to start preparing for bed. However, no sooner had the soft cotton cleared his face, Bucky realised he wasn’t alone. He threw the clothing to the ground and prepared himself for an attack.

It never came.

But what did come was a voice.

“Why’d you stop, Buck?”

Bucky peered into the darkness, towards the sound. Steve must be sitting in the easy chair.

“Steve? What are you doing in here?”

The chair creaked and Bucky could hear Steve’s soft footsteps as he traversed the carpeted floor. Bucky watched as Steve appeared out of the darkness, the soft glow from the living room shining through the partially open bedroom door and illuminating the planes of his face. He looked dark and sinister yet still oh-so-beautiful.

“I didn’t tell you to stop, Bucky. Take it off. Take it all off. I wanna see. And I know you wanna show me.” Steve’s voice was low. Sultry. And despite the confusion swirling in Bucky’s mind, his dick was definitely interested in what was happening.

Their eyes locked, each searching the other’s expression until Steve’s nostrils flared and without warning he was pushing Bucky up against his bedroom wall with a hand around his throat.

The air was driven from Bucky’s lungs, but luckily the grip of his neck wasn’t so tight that he couldn’t draw another in. Steve’s free hand was suddenly pulling at Bucky’s sweats, tugging at them and yanking them off his hips.

“I said, take them off. I know you’re not stupid, Bucky.”

Thinking back on it all later, Bucky could easily have fought back — could easily have gotten away — but for some reason he didn’t. His hands trembled as he pushed his pants all the way down his thighs, kicking them off his ankles, stripping for the man he loved, even if the Steve in front of him bore little resemblance to the Steve of Bucky’s memories.

Steve leaned in close, turning Bucky’s head to the side, nosing at his throat and inhaling before he suddenly bit down on the juncture of Bucky’s neck and left shoulder over the scarring that marked his skin. 

Bucky screamed but his cock jumped in his shorts, and it was over as quickly as it had happened as Steve pulled back and turned Bucky’s head back to face him.

“I know you want me, Buck. You’ve always wanted me. I have eyes. But something… I don’t know… I never wanted you like this before, but now I do.”

Bucky looked at Steve with wide eyes, ice meeting ocean, and then his world was spinning as Steve quickly turned him, pressed him into the wall.

“What have you done to me, Buck? You’ve hypnotised me. I saw Peggy, almost walked up to her, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t leave you. And when I stepped back off that pad and saw you, it was like a slap to the face.” Steve pressed his body— still clothed— against Bucky’s naked back, and Bucky couldn’t hold back a whimper.

This was all wrong, but it was everything he’d ever wanted.

“Steve?” He didn’t even know what he was pleading for.

“Shh-shh. Don’t say anything. I need you to be quiet. Because I don’t want this, but at the same time I feel that if I don’t, I’ll never have a moment’s peace again. I need to own you. Mark you.”

There was venom in his voice, an undercurrent of loathing, and Bucky didn’t know if Steve was aiming it at him or himself.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want, Stevie.”

“Shut up!” Steve’s roar came with a spray of saliva. A roar of anguish. “You don’t get to say anything.” Steve kicked Bucky’s ankles apart. Bucky didn’t stop him. “I could have had a life. The life I wanted. A wife. Kids. The whole nine yards. But you…” His hand twisted in the fabric of Bucky’ shorts and ripped them from his body. “You couldn’t leave me alone. Wouldn’t get out of my head.”

Having thrown the now scrap of fabric to the floor, Steve’s hand came back around Bucky’s body, pushing between him and the wall, until Steve was able to cup Bucky’s cock in his hand. Bucky bit his lip, swallowing the moan that came unbidden and clenched his eyes shut. His cock was throbbing. Dripping. He felt so ashamed.

“I should have known it,” Steve drawled as his hand pumped Bucky’s cock. “It doesn’t even matter if I hate you. If I’m cruel to you. As long as I do something to you, you’ll nod, say thank you and ask for more. You’re pathetic, Buck. Just a cock hungry slut.”

When precome spurted from the tip into Steve’s hand, he just chuckled. “I wonder how cruel I can get away with being?” He let go of Bucky’s cock then, his hand moving back to land between Bucky’s ass cheeks, smearing the sticky pre-come over his hole. Then Steve pressed one of his fingers all the way inside him and Bucky bit back a yelp. There was nothing he could do about the few tears that ran down his cheeks. He hoped Steve couldn’t see them.

“You can take this, can’t you, pal? Survived a lot worse, I bet…”

“Don’t…” Bucky whispered. 

“Don’t,” Steve parrotted, his voice full of condescension. “This is a mess of your own making and now you just have to own it.” With a loud hocking noise, Steve spat out a gob of saliva. It landed right on Bucky’s crack and dribbled down to where he was skewered on Steve’s finger. “There we go. I don’t wanna hurt my fingers on your tight little hole there, do I?” 

When Steve added a second finger, Bucky couldn’t hold back the squeak he made. It burned. It hurt. But it didn’t hurt as much as the humiliation. As the shame that he was letting Steve do this. That he wanted Steve — loved Steve — so much, that he was willing to accept this poisoned crumb.

Another gob of spit and Steve forced in a third finger, sawing and scissoring them. Much to Bucky’s embarrassment his cock continued to dribble and his hips started to jerk. When Steve let go of the back of his neck to unfasten his fly, Bucky just waited, breath baited. When Steve took that last step forward, the rough denim of his jeans rubbing up against the back of Bucky’s bare legs, Bucky screwed his eyes even further shut. Steve unceremoniously pulled his fingers from the clutch of Bucky’s body, wiping his fingers down Bucky’s naked thigh, and then he was pushing his cock forwards, forcing it in. Carving a space.

The fingers of Bucky’s left hand whirred, digging into the plaster and concrete of the wall in front of him as he howled. Why couldn’t this be different? Why couldn’t it be happening with love and care? He’d thought the intrusion of Steve’s fingers had been painful, but this was on a whole other level. Steve’s hands curled cruelly into his hips, driving home and he growled as he bottomed out.

“This is what you wanted,” Steve taunted in Bucky’s ear. “What you’ve always wanted. Me taking you. Filling you. And despite everything, you like this, don’t you?”

Bucky bit his lip until he tasted copper and shook his head, but Steve wasn’t having it. Letting go of Bucky’s right hip, he wrapped his fingers in Bucky’s long hair and pulled, forcing Bucky’s head backwards. “Answer me, damn it.”

“Not like this. Never like this.” Bucky’s voice was full of pain and betrayal, but Steve just let go of his hair and pressed his face back into the wall.

“Shut up,” he growled and then he snapped his hips. Again and again. Over and over. Spearing Bucky and driving pathetic whimpers from between his lips.

And Bucky wanted to hate it. Wanted to shut down or fight back, or just something. But he was so broken, so bereft, that he just allowed it. Took it. Started to enjoy it. Steve holding him in an iron grip he could pretend was more loving than it was. Steve filling him so fully he thought he’d burst. The brush of Steve’s cock over his prostate, thrust after thrust after thrust. The way his own cock was wedged between his body and wall, being stimulated in a painful way.

The trickle of tears down Bucky’s cheeks became a flood and he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“I love you, Stevie,” he cried, only for Steve to respond with “And I hate you.”

The pain in his chest was shattering, a hundred times worse than what he’d felt when he thought Steve was leaving him, but despite it all, there was no stopping the inevitable.

Bucky came with a wail, the wall crumbling beneath his fingers as he painted another part of it with his cum. Steve puffed and grunted heavily in his ear before tensing up and pouring himself into Bucky with a shout.

For a few seconds the only sound was the pair of them breathing heavily before Steve was suddenly and quickly moving away, pulling himself from Bucky’s body and letting him go. Bucky’s legs shook and he slid down the wall, smearing his body with concrete dust and his own cum.

He heard the shnick of Steve’s fly and the jingle of his belt. “Clean yourself up, Buck. You’re disgusting,” came Steve’s sneer and then he was stepping around the Bucky-shaped heap on the floor, closing the door heavily behind him.

Bucky lay in the dark. Cold. Broken. Wondering what’d he do when he saw Steve tomorrow.

He had a sinking feeling he’d let Steve do that all over again.

Tag list: @christywrites, @alexakeyloveloki, @doasyoudesireandlive, @galactusdevourerofworlds, @km-ffluv

[ditzyredrobin]

Tug, Pull, Ping

AIless Whumptober Day 17 - Abandonment

-

Tim woke slowly, drifting in quiet contentment. He was surrounded by his pack—alpha sister at his head, omega big brother at his feet, pack alpha and grandfather beta at his side, caring for him.

There was a distant tug at his side while they cared for him, a dull tug, and the din of shrapnel being dropped in the pan.

There a fingers combing through his too-long hair, feather-light and gentle, Tim hummed, turning his head towards the hand, relishing in the touch. She smells sweet and spicy, like a camellia in full bloom.

Cass.

When was the last time someone had touched him like this?

A fond chuff sparks warmth in his chest, he smiles, slowly blinking his eyes open. The operating lights overhead are offensive and too bright making his vision swim, and beyond that the high ceiling of the cave. He shifts to meet her warm gaze, there is a tight expression on her face he can’t quite place.

Tug, pull, ping.

He’s in the cave… he’s in the cave.

Shit. Shit shit shit.

He shouldn’t be here. Damian made it clear the last time he was here exactly where he belonged, particularly, anywhere but here.

Riffraff, a placeholder for the true Robin. He who had threatened to change his passcode and keep him out with all of the other street trash, who had gone out of his way to cut his lines and break his bones.

But there was a second set of instincts warring with the drive to run . The kind that craved to be surrounded and wanted to be wanted by his pack.

(The pack that abandoned him, a voice whispered in the back of his mind. A pack who had let him)

But they weren’t abandoning him now were they? They were here for him,

“Thinking too much, little brother.” Cass murmured in his ear, voice too soft for anyone without super hearing to hear. “Rest.”

Tim frowned and peeled his eyes open again (when had they shut?), glaring blearily up at the alpha. “I don’t need to rest, I need,” he gasped, trying to sit up. “I need to leave.”

Suddenly there were hands all over him, pushing him back onto the stretcher. The tugging stopped lost in an attempt keep him in the bed. There was a distant stabbing pain in his side that was easy enough the slough off. He had bigger fish to fry.

“You need to lay your ass back down before you get yourself killed.” Jason snapped from across the med bay, leaning back against the doorway, face taut. “Oh wait, I forgot, you almost did that.”

“Jason,” Bruce, the pack alpha, growled, a low warning. The heavy musk of angry alpha settling over the room, setting the hair on the back of his neck on edge, fear sending his heart racing. They were going to fight and it would be his fault.

Bad, bad, bad, he had to leave, he had to go—he had to—

Fingers were carding through his hair again, long and nimble, the clean scent of tea tree and mint flowing over his senses. Calm-safe-pack-omega-Dick they hummed.

Safe.

Tim’s muscles went lax again, melting back into bed and the static that came from being on the good stuff. “You’re safe, baby bird, I promise.” Dick’s voice was just as feather-light as his fingers, soothing away the worries.

Their promises had once been sacred back before Damian entered the picture , but it still eased some portion of his brain. Dick wouldn’t lie… right? Not like this.

There was a long air of silence between the two alphas, the air in the med bag felt charged, the stench of a challenge between the two alpha’s. Jason was the first to break.

Tim cracked his eyes open just in time to see him throw up his hands with an exasperated expression. “I’m telling it how it is, B. All of us here know it, the Replacement just don’t want to hear it.”

“Enough.” A muscle popped in Bruce’s jaw. He did not need this rehashed right now.

A silence set over the cave again and Dick’s fingers never faltered. Things in the cave settled again and the impromptu surgery began again. Tim settled under the touch, the scents, the being cherished by his pack again, drifting once more.

The familiar tug, pull, ping began again.

[little-pondhead]

One Grave Is All It Takes

[it's a little off from the prompts but my brain snails wouldn't let me sleep until I vomited this up. feel free to continue.]

-

The very first thing he smells is dirt. Wet, heavy dirt. The kind he remembers from his fight with Undergrowth and from trying to dig his own grave. The air is damp, making the smell nearly overwhelming. He can hear the faint rustle of dry skin rubbing against itself, just like bat wings, so was he in a cave? Underground? That's odd. Danny doesn't remember being near any caves.

There was also a weird buzzing sound. High pitched and electrical, similar to his parent's basement-

Danny's eyes snapped open, and he jolted upright. Fluorescent lights burned his eyes, making him contort his face in a silent snarl, but he didn't dare squint through the pain. His eyes were roaming, and his heart was beating harder than it had in a long time. Was he in a hospital? No, this must be a secret infirmary. The walls were rough and white, with three beds lined up against one side, and him in the first one. The main doors were shut but not locked, and another metal door opposite him had a sign that said SURGERY on it; Danny was a little glad he didn't wake up in there.

But when did the GIW catch him? The last thing he remembered was losing half his torso in a blast and dripping precious ectoplasm halfway across the Midwest before he...

Before he found a grave.

The burn in his eyes settled. Danny kept frantically glancing around. He wasn't restrained. He wasn't tied down at all. Danny was human, still in the clothes he'd put on this morning, sans his NASA shirt. Bandages were wrapped heavily around his lower torso; he must have grown back his organs already. There were a few medical machines hooked up to him, but nothing was actually stuck in his skin yet. One of them, he recognized, was a heart monitor.

Danny tore the tape and sensors off his chest without a thought, sending a pulse through the wires so the machine shut off completely. He hated hearing the slow beeping of his heart rate. The others started beeping frantically when he removed them, making an ache build in his head. Their machines were farther away, and he had to get up.

Right. Get up.

His eyes swam as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. When was the last time he ate? Both as a ghost and as a human? He can't remember what waffles tasted like. Danny had been pushing himself so hard the past few months, and with his injury, he was weaker than a newborn kitten. But he had to stop that incessant beeping, so he stood anyway, swaying a little and stumbling to power the machines off.

His well-earned silence didn't last for long.

The doors to the infirmary slammed open, startling Danny. An angry boy stormed through, his body language practically screaming his feelings to the world. Danny crouched as much as he could, snarling, ready for anything. If the GIW wanted a fight, he'd give them a fight. If this teen was another one of those stupid ghost-hunting kids they found off Craigslist, though, he might have to put the fear of God into a few people before he blasted his way out of the compound, taking the kid with him.

The boy stopped short at Danny's growl, nearly tripping himself. "Danyal!" He choked out, looking both pissed and devastated at the same time.

Danny paused.

He hadn't heard that name in a very long time.

He squinted at the boy. Aside from the naturally green eyes, shorter hair, and tanner skin, the teen before him looked exactly like Danny.

Oh, Clockwork is so getting an earful for this.

"D-" He tried to speak, but his throat was too dry, and Danny doubled over coughing. Damian, his twin brother, his baby brother whom he forced away, rushed forward to catch his body before he hit the floor. Danny collapsed into him, gasping for air. (Not that he needed it, but human habits were hard to break.)

"Danyal," Damian was on the verge of tears, which was so out of character; Danny dimly pondered at this being another clone or perhaps some cruel illusion his mind had made up in the face of True Death. But, no. Danny's core was practically singing as his brother held him, raising a bottle of water from the nightstand to his lips and helping Danny work through the coughing.

This was family. This was his brother. His twin.

Danny took a shuddering breath. "Damian," he breathed out. "How..."

"Don't speak; we only found you a few hours ago," Damian instructed. "You're malnourished and weak-"

"I know," Danny interrupted. He pulled away from Damian, reversing their roles as he gripped his brother's face with a desperate need to make sure this was real. Memorizing all the differences his brother had in their shared face so Danny didn't have to keep guessing. "How did you...no. I remember now. You made it out alive. You were saved; Mother kept her promise. Thank the Ancients."

"You're supposed to be dead, Danyal!" Now, tears were rolling down Damian's cheeks. Danny tried desperately wiping them away with his thumb, but it wasn't enough. "You gave up your life to make sure I lived, you pushed me away, you-"

"I'm supposed to be dead." Danny echoed softly. "And...I am, Dami. I am dead. I'm not supposed to be here, Dami. How did I get here? How did you find me?"

Damian sniffed. All his anger was gone now. "Your grave; I made you a grave. We made you a grave. I went out to change the flowers, and you were lying against the headstone."

"...Shit." Danny bit his lip. "Shit, I'm sorry, Dami," he cursed again as his thoughts caught up with him. Danny forced himself upright, Damian right behind him with hovering hands, obviously worried. He dug around in his pockets and thanked the Ancients that his pants were still on. He found a marker and scribbled his burner cell number on his brother's bare arm.

"Where are we exactly, Damian? And what was the timeframe from when you found me to now? How many people know I'm here?"

Damian stared at his twin, who seemed so frantic despite his calculating questions. "I found you at 6:57am, EST. It is now 2:34pm of the same day."

Danny raised an eyebrow but didn't look up. "EST? So this is still America?"

"Yes. We're currently in the Batcave under Gotham City."

That got Danny's attention. He whipped his head up, and Damian was faintly interested to see his brother's eyes glowing a toxic green. Just like Todd's did when he was in a Pit Rage, but somehow, Damian knew his big brother wouldn't hurt him if it came to that.

"NEW JERSEY?" Danny screeched. "FUCK! I gotta get farther than that! Shit, shit, shit! Damian, who else knows about me?? If this is the Batcave, does that mean Batman reported me already??? Ancients damn it all, where's my t-shirt?"

Damian snatched his brother's wrist, preventing him from pulling away. Danny's weakened state made it impossible for him to break the grip. "The only ones who know are our family," Damian stressed.

"Mother and Grandfather?? Damian, that's WORSE! I can't-"

"No! Not them!" he barked. "Father! And our many insufferable siblings he's picked up off the streets during his long reign as Batman. The League does not know you are here, Danyal. No one else outside the Manor knows. I promise on the stars."

Hearing their childhood promise made Danny slow down for a moment. "...Wait."

Damian waited.

"OUR DAD IS FUCKING BATMAN???"

---

DPxDC Prompt where when Damian has grown comfortable with the Waynes, settling into the household more firmly, he finally tells them about his late brother, Danyal.

With his family's help, he makes a proper grave for his twin on the Wayne Manor grounds, on a little hill with the best view of the night sky.

Hundreds of miles away in Amity Park, Illinois, Danny's core resonates, recognizing something he's lacked.

[monsterfuker3000]

He’s on Fire (Option D)

Eddie Munson x Reader

Warnings: heavy, heavy smut. Implied abuse. Reader is cheating on abusive husband. Reader has female genitalia. Unprotected sex (do as I say not as I do, kids.) No use of Y/N. No beta read we die like men.

Word count: 8049

Enjoy :>

You’re married. Jesus, you're married, for God’s sake. This is not something Eddie should have to remind himself of, but here was, intently watching you, his pretty neighbor (two doors down and around the corner, mind you,) hang your laundry on the little clothesline outside your trailer. Yours, and your husband’s. You know, the one you’re very much married to.

Denny. The absolute bane of Eddie’s existence. At least twenty years your senior, by his estimate, and about two hundred pounds heavier. He wonders what in the world you could possibly see in a guy like Denny. Not only was he wildly disgusting, but Eddie could tell he wasn’t treating you well. At least, not as well as Eddie would treat you.

He knew Denny left you alone far too often. Nearly every night, since he worked the night shift doing “waste management” (what sort of waste anyone would be managing in the middle of the night, Eddie could not fathom. However, he was far too disinterested to ask,) and literally every weekend he left for a “fishing trip” with his buddies, rain or shine. Though, judging by the crumpled receipts and parking stubs that Eddie often found discarded carelessly in your driveway, he deduced that Denny was very probably not on fishing trips over the weekends, since there isn't much fishing to be done at casinos and short stays in pay-by-the-hour motels.

Eddie kept these receipts in a shoebox in his room labeled ‘Asshole Evidence,’ torn between showing you this box and keeping it hidden forever. It was a horrible secret to keep, and the knowledge of even having this box in his room made him feel sick, but he knew he couldn’t just throw it away. He knew he would show it to you someday. Probably. Possibly. Maybe.

Eddie was hesitant to reveal your husband’s weekend expenditures because he knew it would probably go one of two very different ways. Option A, the good option in Eddie’s mind, you would pack your shit and leave Denny immediately. Divorce him, take him for all he had, absolutely ruin him. The possibility of Option B, however, hung over Eddie like a dark cloud. He’d pictured it many times while waffling over his little moral dilemma.You’d scream. You’d cry. You might even break a few things, but you would pull yourself back together, the picture of a perfect little wife. You’d clean up the aftermath of your meltdown and cook dinner for Denny like nothing had happened. You’d stay with him forever, the knowledge of his lies and infidelities hanging over your head all the while. As long as you both shall live, as the vows usually go.

Thinking of the terrible Option B made Eddie sick as well. A lot of things involving Denny made Eddie sick, to be honest. However, his most immediate concern was the fact that you were alone so often. A very pretty girl, constantly alone in a trailer with a very, very shitty lock. Therefore, Eddie began his nightly vigils.

He told himself he was only watching your trailer like a hawk because he was worried about you, and definitely not because you had a habit of walking around in very little clothing when you thought no one could see you, (not that this detail didn’t help.) Watching you from afar, however, only satisfied Eddie for so long, and he had decided he had gone long enough without telling you about Denny that if he waited much longer it would look bad for him, which is why one Saturday afternoon, when he could be sure Denny wouldn’t interrupt, he finally worked up the guts to head over and formally introduce himself to his neighbor.

Eddie knocked on your door with a tray of cookies in hand that he had very clearly not baked himself, but it’s the thought that counts, right? He figured repackaging a few store bought cookies would be more appreciated than him trying to fire up the oven for the first time in God knows how long, and if he was going to break upsetting news to you, you might want some sweets. A few particularly incriminating receipts he’d picked up from your driveway over the past few months practically burned a hole in the pocket of his acid-wash jeans.

He heard you practically bound across your small living room in an effort to get to the door in a timely manner, and when you opened the door with what Eddie thought to be far too much enthusiasm, he realized he’d never actually gotten around to coming up with something to say to you. Unfortunately the best thing he could come up with in the moment was to stare dumbly at you and use every ounce of his willpower to keep his eyes on yours, and not the low-cut tank top you had answered the door in.

When several very awkward moments passed with no introduction from Eddie, you decided to speak first.

“Oh, hello! What can I do for you, uh…”

“Um, Eddie!” he finally managed. A momentous feat indeed.

You laughed, thank God. “Well in that case, what can I do for you, Um-Eddie?”

He chuckled at the joke. Low hanging fruit. He wished he could say he didn’t know your name, and hadn’t asked around the neighborhood like some kind of stalker, but that’s precisely what he did. He decided that this was a detail you didn’t necessarily need to know.

“‘Eddie’ by itself is fine. And what might your name be, m’lady?” He followed this question with a bow and a grand flourish of his arm. You laughed once again at his theatrics, and he very suddenly concluded that it was a sound he absolutely needed to hear more of. When you introduced yourself, he came to the conclusion that the way your name sounded on your own lips was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever heard.

“Well,” Eddie continued, “I just came by to drop off these cookies for ya, neighbor! (‘Good lord,’ he thought to himself.) I noticed you just moved in about, well, six months ago, I suppose…” he trailed off, scratching his head almost cartoonishly. Not to be deterred by his own poor planning, he continued. “I guess I’m a little late for the housewarming party, but would you care for some expertly baked desserts?” He nodded his head toward the plate in his hand and noted that the grocery store bakery had really started skimping on chocolate chips.

You smiled warmly at him, and Eddie’s heart soared. “Absolutely! There’s no way I’m eating all of those by myself, though. Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?”

Eddie, surprised at the sudden and easily acquired invitation, accepted. You held the door open for him, and he stepped inside.

He noticed immediately that your trailer was actually rather homey. Lived-in, but not in a messy way. There were plants and knick-knacks on nearly every available horizontal surface, and the couch and recliner in the living room were not lacking in the throw pillow and blanket department. The kitchen was small, as all trailer kitchens are, but very neat. You pulled a filter and a small can of coffee out of one of the cupboards, and started on the coffee maker.

As you busied yourself with the coffee, Eddie realized that you had literally just let him, a practical stranger, into your home. The home you’re alone in every night. He wondered where in the world you had left your sense of self-preservation, if you ever had one in the first place.

“You know,” he mused. “I could totally be an ax-murderer, and you just let me into your house without a single question”

You glanced skeptically at him over your shoulder. “ You’re wearing jeans and a t-shirt, Eddie, I figure if you’ve managed to hide an ax somewhere on your person, you deserve a chance at murdering me. That would be an impressive feat.”

Eddie stared blankly at you and sat at your kitchen table, setting the plate of cookies down, waiting for his coffee, and pondering how you could possibly have gone this long without a home invasion. You brought over two cups of coffee, a little carton of half-and-half, and a container of sugar, and sat at the table across from him.

“So,” he began, scooping a slightly concerning amount of sugar into his coffee, “I’m going to be honest with you. I didn’t think you were going to invite me in. I have no idea what to talk about. I was prepared for a drive-by cookie drop off, not conversation.”

You laughed. Again. It was a beautiful sound.

“I’ll admit I wasn’t really prepared for company either. The only person I really talk to anymore is my husband.”

“Oh, your husband? What’s his name?” he asked, sipping his coffee that was much too hot to be drunk yet in an effort to hide his frown. He knew the bastard’s name plenty well.

“Denny,” you replied, dropping your smile. Not the response one would expect from someone who particularly liked their spouse. You changed the subject abruptly. “So, what do you do for work?”

Eddie cringed, knowing that being a super-super senior wasn’t necessarily a good look. “I’m actually not working right now, I’m on my third go of senior year.” He avoided your eyes, not wanting to see the usual judgment and surprise he got from most people at this revelation. “I’m pretty confident I’ve got it this year, though!” he added. “I’ve been spending more time studying and less time doing, um, extracurriculars.”

You leaned forward, picking up on his discomfort when it came to this subject. “Hey, don’t feel too bad. You’re looking at a college dropout turned waitress. Not everyone is cut out for academia. Doesn’t mean we’re stupid or anything”

This was incredibly refreshing to Eddie, who was used to pitying looks or laughter when this subject of conversation came about.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Someone has to make the moderately disappointing kids look better in the eyes of their parents, too.” You laughed at this, and Eddie was thankful he’d put a smile back on your face.

“So, Eddie,” you began with a sly smile. “What are these ‘extracurriculars’ you mentioned earlier?” Eddie froze for a second, pondering just how many laws he felt like admitting to breaking tonight.

An hour and two cups of coffee later, Eddie knew he had to suck it up and tell you what he really came for. The two of you had gotten comfortable with each other lightning quick, and were talking as if you’d known each other forever, but he knew it was time, as much as he hated to have to ruin your mood. He knew this was going to be difficult for both of you, he already couldn't stand to see you upset, but it felt like he was lying to you. So, he coughed lightly and began to dig around in his pocket for the receipts.

“I have a confession. I didn’t come here just to bring you cookies. There’s something I think you should know.” You tilted your head, looking puzzled, and Eddie thought you looked just like a confused puppy. It definitely wasn’t helping, but he forced himself to continue. “I, well, I’ve found a few things in your driveway over the past few months, things I don’t think Denny wanted you to see, but I feel awful knowing this and not telling you.”

He pulled the receipts out of his pocket and laid them in front of you. He made sure to include the first and latest receipts to show you that his weekend activities had been going on for a while and had very much not stopped.

You frowned, looking at the evidence laid out on your kitchen table. “Oh. So the whole neighborhood knows my husband is a slut, too. Great. He forgets to take his receipts out of his pocket almost every Sunday and I end up having to take them out before I do laundry,” you hummed. “I’d hoped he’d at least been containing his little paper trail to the house.”

Eddie’s jaw dropped. You knew? You, beautiful and gentle and kind, knew your husband was out fucking prostitutes and you were just fine with it?

He was speechless. You shrugged and picked up the last cookie. You took a bite and only then remembered your manners.

“Oh, shit, did you want this?” you asked, mouth full of half-chewed chocolate chip cookie.

“What the fuck?” he asked.

“Woah, dude, I’m sorry. I’ll make you more if it’s that big of a deal.”

“Jesus, I’m not talking about the cookie. I’m talking about the fact that your husband that’s twice your age is whoring around every weekend and you seem to be totally cool with it.” He still hadn’t quite managed to fully pick his jaw up off the floor.

You shrugged. Again. You seemed to do that a lot when talking about things people wouldn’t normally shrug off.

“I mean, it’s not my favorite aspect of him, but there really isn’t much I can do about it. Why would I spend time worrying about something I’d never be able to talk him out of? And for the record” you continued, crossing your arms, “he’s not twice my age. He’s forty, I’m twenty-two.”

Eddie was still practically speechless, possibly for the very first time in his life, both because you were seemingly fine with this and also because he was taken aback that the thing you seemed most upset about was that he had guessed your age difference incorrectly by two years. This was not going the way he had expected, and this horrifying Option C you’d gone with rattled him. He had no idea what to say to you next, and decided he needed to leave and regroup before his brain melted out of his ears.

“Oh. Well. That-that’s fine. Oh, wow! Look at the time, it’s getting late, I think I’ll head home now, good night!” He said all of this while rather ungracefully tripping his way to the front door, and you had a front row seat the whole time from your spot at the kitchen table. You laughed a bit at the cliché ‘look at the time’ line, and got up to lock the door behind him. You watched out your window as Eddie confusedly made his way back to his own trailer, and when you were sure he wasn’t able to see you, you finally let yourself fall to the floor and sob.

It had been three days since Eddie’s botched intervention, and he still hadn’t seen you leave your trailer. He knew he had to check on you, just to see if you were alright, of course, not because he missed seeing you even from afar. Definitely not because of that. So in an attempt at offering an olive branch he wasn’t even sure was necessary, he made his way back over to your trailer after Denny left for work, plate of brownies in hand this time.

He knocked on your door, rather tentatively this time, and once again, you answered almost immediately. You smiled at him this time too, but it was much more strained than the last time. Eddie looked down at you from your doorway, holding his offering.

“Brought brownies this time.”

You smiled a bit wider, which eased Eddie’s nerves. He made it his mission to get you to laugh, really, truly laugh, before he left.

“Come on in, Eddie. I’ll put on some more coffee.”

“Stability? That’s it?” Eddie questioned incredulously. “You never loved him at any point?”

“I figured I’d learn to love him, I suppose,” you answered. “Besides, a roof over my head was a bit higher than love on my list of priorities at the time.”

You had spent the last hour and a half regaling Eddie with the story of how you came to be married to Denny. How your parents had kicked you out the moment you turned eighteen, how you’d lived out of your car for a year before meeting Denny at your waitressing job, how you’d married him for the promise of a home and someone to take care of you. You never asked for nor even expected faithfulness from Denny, and you knew he really only kept you around for the social status that having a pretty, young wife gave him, and it wasn’t like he hit you. Often. You didn’t share this last detail with Eddie, and he was still floored that you expected so little.

“So you just, do everything for him? Jesus, he treats you more like a live-in maid than a wife. Come on, you know you could do so much better than that. Don’t you have any friends you could move in with, at least temporarily? Until you can divorce his sorry ass, I mean.”

You scoffed, unsurprised that Eddie thought it would be so simple.

“Denny doesn’t really let me have friends, and I don’t really have time to go out and make them.”

This upset Eddie. For Denny to expect to have any right to tell you what you could and couldn't do with your life? He was surprised you never poisoned his lunch.

“Well,” he said, “I’m your friend now, and you didn’t even have to go out and find me. Pretty convenient, huh?” he said with a smile.

“My friend, hm?” you mused, finger on your chin while you pretended to think. “I suppose that’s acceptable.”

Eddie was ecstatic, but he would never tell you that, nor anyone else for that matter.

“Well, as your friend, I think it’s my duty to come over after your pig husband leaves to help you with housework and keep you company.”

You furrowed your brows, concerned that spending time with you would keep him from other things he’d rather be doing.

“Oh, Eddie, you don’t have to do that.”

“Of course not, but I want to,” he replied with a goofy grin. You couldn’t help but laugh at his expression, and he soon joined you, finding you laughter contagious.

Thus began Eddie’s nighttime rendezvous to his neighbor’s house.

Eddie was totally screwed. Completely screwed. He could even pinpoint the exact moment he became so, so horrifically screwed.

Eddie’s visits to your house in the absence of Denny had started as a once-every- two-or-three-days thing, but soon turned into nightly occurrences and what started as simply helping you with housework soon turned to dinners and movie nights, telling jokes, swapping life stories, and even a few sleepovers. Eddie spent these particular nights on the couch with his hands to himself, of course. The two of you had very quickly become best friends.

Unfortunately for poor Eddie, one Friday evening, tired from a busy workweek, you fell asleep in the middle of some third-rate horror movie he’d rented earlier that day. This wouldn’t normally be a problem, and had in fact happened several times before, but this time you sealed Eddie’s fate with one simple accident. You fell asleep on his shoulder. Cheesy, right?

Eddie had felt your head hit his shoulder, but was too engrossed in the movie to truly notice. About ten minutes later, however, when you nuzzled into his chest like a cat, it was like he was struck by lightning.

Jesus Christ, he was in love with you. He’d been attracted to you from the very beginning, sure, but he wasn’t in love. Was he? Surely his only motivation for counting down the minutes until your husband left was because he enjoyed your company as a friend, of course. He definitely didn’t spend nearly every unoccupied moment looking forward to seeing you at night because he was in love with you, absolutely not.

God, he was so screwed.

He carried you to bed that night and left immediately. He felt like he was suffocating, sitting in your house that you owned with the man you married, surrounded by reminders of the fact that you did not live there alone. He was glad that it was a Friday, because he didn’t sleep at all that night.

He had to tell you. He felt tortured after just one night of reaalization, and he was afraid he might actually explode if he spent more time with you. He had to tell you and get out of there, even if he really was your only friend. Even if you leaned on him. Even if he loved you.

He knocked on your door in broad daylight for once, knowing Denny was gone for the weekend. You answered the door, surprised to see an incredibly tense looking Eddie on your doorstep.

“We need to talk.”

“Alright, come in. What's the matter?”

He pushed past you into your house like he was in a rush to get somewhere. This concerned you, as it was very out of character. Especially the wild pacing he took up across your kitchen floor.

“Jesus, Eddie, sit down. You’re going to trip over something.”

Eddie sat in a dining room chair with so much force that you half expected it to break under him.

“I can’t do this anymore. I can’t do this with you.”

This was not something you had expected.

“What?” you asked. “What are you talking about?” Your voice raised in pitch just slightly, this was scaring you.

“I can’t keep coming to your house while your husband is away. It’s not appropriate. You’re married.”

“This isn’t the 1800s, Eddie, you can come to my house whenever. What made you start caring about this after six months?” You were starting to tear up at this point, there was no trace of the fun, easygoing boy you had gotten to know in the stoic man that now sat before you.

Eddie stood and walked towards your door.

“I guess I just had some kind of an epiphany. I’m going to leave now, I’m sorry.”

“Not without explaining yourself. Why have you just now decided to give a shit that I’m married to Denny?” You were crying at this point, tears rolling down your face as you tried to regulate your breathing. The only friend you’ve had in years was trying to walk out of your life, permanently. You weren’t letting him go without a fight

“I’ve already explained myself. I won’t be coming over anymore. I’m sorry.” His voice became more and more strained as he said this, and tears began pooling in his eyes as well. He wiped them away before they fell.

“Jesus, It’s like you're possessed! You never talk like this, what’s really going on? You have to tell me, you owe me that much.” You were distraught at this point, using every ounce of your willpower to keep yourself from just screaming. You grabbed him by the arms and he froze.

“I love you,” he whispered, so quietly you thought you might have imagined it.

“What did you just say?”

“I love you. I love you. I love you, God I love you!” By the end of his declaration he was practically yelling. “I love you and you’re married! You have no intention of leaving him, and that’s your choice, but watching you stay with him, watching you destroy yourself, it’s destroying me.” He had wiggled gently out of your grasp and had pressed his back against your front door, left hand resting on the doorknob. “I can’t keep coming to the house you share with him, sitting at the table you share with him watching you get into the bed you share with him, it makes me fucking sick, and it’s because I love you.”

“God, Eds, you are so fucking stupid.”

“What?” Now it was Eddie’s turn to be confused. He didn’t have much time to consider what you had just said, however, because you grabbed him by the front of his faded t-shirt and kissed him.

You pulled back after a moment, and wondered how his eyes could possibly be open that wide and still be contained in his eye sockets.

“I said you’re fucking stupid. I love you too, have for a couple of months. I think it happened the night we watched that stupid movie musical I picked. You never complained once, and I know you lied about liking it, but I knew I loved you then, and I know I love you now. I don’t want to be with Denny, I just didn’t know where I could possibly go if I left him. I want to be with you, Eds.” You looked up at him as he stared blankly ahead and could practically see the gears turning in his head as he tried to process this information. Then, the lightbulb went on, and he met your eyes again.

“I’ve got to say, you’re kind of stupid yourself, then.” He grabbed both sides of your face and pulled you in for another kiss, practically smashing your lips together. One hand moved from your face down to your back, and he pressed you fully against his body, making you moan. He used this fantastic opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

You regained your senses yet again, and reached up to thread your fingers through his long curly hair and pulled gently. He bit down lightly on your lower lip and moaned, and you pulled again, hard. He threw his head back slightly and practically keened.

Eddie went back in for another kiss, and you walked backward back into the kitchen, pulling him with you, until your legs hit the table. As if he could read your mind, he slid both hands down to the backs of your thighs, pulling you up and placing you on the very edge of the table. You spread your legs and he stepped closer to grind against you slightly, and you felt his cock pressing against your thigh, already straining against the dark ripped jeans he had picked up off his bedroom floor this morning in an effort to get to your house as soon as possible.

You wrapped your legs around him and rocked against him harder, and he hissed through his teeth. He finally pulled away from your lips, only to continue the kisses down your neck, playing with the hem of your shirt all the while. You got the hint, and lifted your arms up so he could pull your shirt off. He lifted it gently over your head and threw it to the kitchen floor. He returned his gaze to you and could have sworn the view took away a couple of years of his lifetime.

The bra you were wearing was pretty, black with just a little lace along the tops of the cups, but he wanted it off. He reached around and fumbled with the clasps in the back until you laughed and reached back to help him. You finally unclipped the bra and let the straps fall down your shoulders, and he groaned as you threw the bra in the general direction your shirt had been tossed.

“Jesus, your tits are perfect,” he muttered, and you couldn’t help but laugh softly at the absolute reverence in his eyes. He pulled his eyes up towards yours and slid his hands up your waist toward your tits, stopping just under them and lightly stroking the undersides with his thumbs.

“Can I …?”

“God, please.”

That was good enough for Eddie. He slid his hands upward to cup your breasts, and squeezed. He dipped his head to suck your right nipple while he pinched and rolled at the left, before alternating to the other side. One particularly hard pinch made your hands fly up into his hair and your hips buck. He laughed, and it was muffled, because he absolutely refused to pull away from your nipple.

He moved his lips slightly to the left of your nipple and bit and sucked at the soft skin there before soothing it with his tongue. He pulled away with a wet popping sound when he was satisfied and ran his thumb over the dark hickey he had left on your breast, admiring it.

“Hmm, pretty,” he hummed.

“Eddie?”

He looked up.

“Yeah, pretty girl?”

“I want you to fuck me.”

“Okay,” he breathed, still not quite believing this was actually happening to him. “I can do that.” When he didn’t move, you laughed softly and poked him lightly in the chest. “Oh. Yeah. Um, Where…?”

“Bedroom?” you asked.

“Yeah, bedroom. Good idea,” he answered, still slightly dazed but more confident. “Come here, pretty.” He hooked one hand under each knee again and gave you a chance to wrap your arms around his neck before lifting you off the table. As he carried you down the hallway, you set to work on leaving your own hickey on his neck, only pulling away to mumble ‘end of the hall’ when Eddie paused, forgetting which doors led where. He pushed the door open with his foot and laid you down gently on the bed before stepping away to get a good look at you.

You sat up, suddenly aware of the unfairness of your respective states of dress; you were down a shirt and a bra, and he was still fully clothed. You decided to even the scales.

“Come here, baby,” you said, reaching for him. He stepped closer, within your reach. “Can I take this off for you?” you asked, beginning to pull up the bottom of his shirt. You glimpsed a bit of hair right above his belt and prayed that you’d be able to get more clothes off of him soon.

He stepped back a bit to slowly pull his shirt off himself, letting you stay seated on the bed. He came closer when you reached out for him again to run your fingers across a few of his tattoos, admiring him.

“I want to do something for you,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Whatever you want, sweet boy. What do you want me to do?”

“Just sit tight, pretty girl, I’ll do all the work,” he said with a grin. He glanced around the room, spotting a hair tie on your nightstand and grabbing it to pull his hair back into a ponytail. He returned to the end of the bed where he had set you down and pulled you closer to the edge. He reached for the button of your jeans and ghosted his fingers over it before looking back up at you.

“I’m gonna take these off, is that alright?” You nodded, and he popped the button, pulled the zipper down, and worked the pants down your legs. He decided to throw yet another item of your clothing onto the floor. “Just lay down and get comfortable, you can lay your head on a pillow if you want. Whatever feels good for you.”

You pulled a pillow down from the head of the bed and pulled it under your head, waiting for whatever was next. Eddie knelt on the ground and gently pulled your legs up over his shoulders. He reached for your pussy and ran a single finger over the crotch of your panties, pressing a little harder over your clit. You gasped.

“Mmm, all wet. This for me, pretty?” he asked, very obviously pleased with himself.

“Yes, God, all for you, Eddie. Please touch me.”

Eddie decided he wasn’t in the mood for teasing. He stood again and hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties and looked up, silently asking for permission yet again.

“Please, whatever you want to do,” you begged.

He relented and pulled your panties down your legs so, so slowly. It was agonizing waiting for them to come off, but he finally got them down to your ankles and completely off. It was not lost on you that your panties made their way into his jeans pocket instead of joining your pants on the floor.

“Fucking perv,” you laughed.

“Yeah, and you love it,” he replied, smiling down at you. He kneeled back on the ground and hooked your legs over his shoulders yet again, pulling you all the way to the end of the bed.

He changed his mind. Just a little teasing wouldn't hurt. He used two fingers to spread your pussy, looking so intently it reminded you of a scientist studying some kind of rare creature, and brought the index finger of his other hand up to drag along one side and down the other, pressing your clit again.

“Such a pretty fucking pussy, all for me, huh?” All at once, he removed both hands and rested them on the outside of either thigh.

“What are you- oh my fucking God,” you gasped.

You had begun to question what he was doing as he buried his face between your thighs, but when he licked a long stripe up your pussy from bottom to top with the flat of his tongue and followed this by wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking, you decided you weren’t in the mood for asking questions anymore. You were so surprised by the sensation that you tried to close your legs around his head, but he wrapped both arms around your thighs and pulled them back apart.

As Eddie swirled his tongue around your clit, he had two thoughts. The first was that he had realized that you were actually confused, like you had no idea what he was going to do. He felt bad for not explaining his intentions, but another thought plowed through his mind like a freight train.

Jesus, the old bastard had never eaten you out. You poor, poor thing. He knew just how to take care of you.

Eddie was going to rock your fucking world.

He decided that pinning down only one leg was just fine, because he absolutely needed one of his hands. While alternating between circling and flicking at your clit with his tongue, he let go of your left leg, which you immediately hooked around him to pull him in closer. Perfect. He used the middle finger of his now free hand to slide into your pussy, damn near all the way to the third knuckle, and he curled it to press into your g-spot.

You almost doubled over.

The sound that left your lips was heavenly and jarringly loud, but Eddie had to pull away for just a moment, both to check that you were still breathing and to mutter ‘Shit, so fucking wet, went in so easy,’ under his breath before reattaching his lips to your clit. You were white-knuckling the duvet he’d laid you on and he’d barely touched you, and he felt awful for you. He concluded it was his personal responsibility to take care of you the way you deserved.

He added his ring finger and began to slide the two fingers in and out of your pussy at a mercifully slow pace. He pulled his mouth away from you once again, and laid his head against the leg he was holding down. He’d decided you could stand just a little more teasing.

“Oh, pretty girl, has nobody been taking care of you?” he asked, with a hint of playful condescension. You choked out a ‘no.’ Hmm. Still able to form words. Not good enough. He took the hand that was holding down your leg and reached all the way around your thigh to lick his thumb. He pressed it against your clit and made gentle, tight circles, while simultaneously speeding up the fingers of the other hand and curling them once again. You nearly sprang off the bed, and he continued.

“Nobody’s been playing with this pretty little pussy? So soft and wet and warm. Baby, if you were mine, I wouldn't be able to stay out of it, I’d do anything to be inside you.”

This time, all you could manage was emphatic nodding and moans so raw they seemed to be coming from your soul. Perfect. Eddie decided you’d had enough.

“You wanna cum, pretty? You can cum, it’s alright.” He removed his thumb and placed his mouth over your clit once again. You let go of the duvet and grabbed his hair again, pulling it slightly out of the ponytail, and began grinding against his mouth, your legs practically vibrating. He hummed appreciatively, both at the hair pulling and the knowledge that you were very, very close to climaxing.

This vibration was all you needed to tip you over the edge you’d been teetering on, and you came, hard. Eddie worked you through your orgasm, slowing his fingers and his tongue but only stopping when you pulled him away by the hair. He pulled back and stood to help you move up further on the bed and sit up, his lips and chin shiny.

“Too much?” he cringed, worried he might have pushed you too far. He took the time to fix his loosened ponytail.

“Just a little,” you huffed, trying to catch your breath. “I’m alright now.”

“You sure? You don’t have to say that if you aren’t.”

“Absolutely.”

Eddie desperately wanted to kiss you. You looked so beautiful sitting there, sweaty and out of breath and looking totally fucked-out, so he leaned down and pressed his lips against yours. You could taste yourself on him, slightly tangy, and you tasted good. You pressed your legs together for a bit of friction. You wanted more. You wanted his cock.

Still unable to string together a sentence of any considerable length, you decided actions would have to be enough. You reached for Eddie’s belt buckle, confused when he stepped away and shook his head.

“I don’t expect anything in return. We don’t have to go any further than this if you don’t want to,” Eddie said. The strain he was putting on the front of his jeans, however, told you that it was taking a lot out of him to offer to walk away. You laughed, and once again, Eddie loved it.

“Eds, I already told you I want you to fuck me. The offer still stands, if you’d like to take it.”

God in Heaven, would he like to take it.

Unfortunately for him, due to most of his blood residing in the head below his belt instead of the one on his shoulders, he seemed lost as to how to continue. Luckily for him, you’d gained some brain function back. You took the opportunity to take a good look at the man in front of you for the first time since he’d taken off his shirt. He was muscular, not in the way someone would be if they worked out at the gym, but he was nicely built from occasional physical labor. His chest was hairless, but a happy trail started just above his navel, light near the top and growing darker and thicker as it traveled down. He had two mirrored bat tattoos, one on each side of his hip. This surprised you; you knew about his other tattoos, but not this more intimate one. You wondered if you’d see others.

Snapping out of your trance, you reached out for him, and he stepped closer, taking your hand.

“You’re sure about this?” he questioned. “I know we’re both kind of riding a high here, and I don’t want to take advantage, and I don’t want you to regret it later, and I-“

You cut him off. “No more ‘ands,’ Eds. Put your hands on me. Please.”

This seemed to snap him out of whatever was clouding his head, and he took a deep breath.

“Alright,” he breathed. “Before we start, I want to ask. Do you want to use a condom?”

“That’s completely up to you, Eds. I trust your judgment. I’m on the pill, and I get tested regularly. Denny hasn’t touched me since I got my last negative result.” Eddie nearly softened at the mention of your husband’s name, but shook it off the best he could.

“I’m clean as well. Should we go without?”

You smiled. “Please, God,” you replied breathlessly. Eddie’s cock jumped as he heard you practically beg him to fuck you raw. You couldn’t wait anymore, you were starting to drip on the duvet and your pussy practically ached. You needed to get the ball rolling again.

You leaned back once again, bringing your knees up and spreading your legs. You let your hand travel down to your core, middle and ring fingers dipping into your pussy to collect the wetness and bringing them back up to circle your clit. Eddie’s face turned an even deeper shade of red.

“Come on, Eds. Aren’t you going to touch me? I bet you know how to take real good care of a girl.” God, did he. He palmed himself, almost punishingly, through his jeans as he watched your display. He groaned as you brought your fingers up to your mouth to taste your own slick.

“Jesus Christ, baby. I’m gonna give it to you so good,” he moaned, fighting to undo his belt. You hooked your fingers in his belt loops and yanked him closer to undo his pants for him. He tried to kick them off, and then cursed as he realized he still had to fight with the laces of his boots. Finally, clad only in a pair of black boxer briefs, he kissed you.

His lips still on yours, you reached into his boxers and took hold of his length. Good God. You had to pull away from the kiss for a moment to yank his boxers down to visually confirm what you felt. Yep, there it was.

It was average in length, about six and a half inches. But God, it was almost as big around as your wrist, and it was beautiful. He was cut, and the head was a deep, blush pink, fading lighter near the base. A droplet of pre gathered at the tip, and you bent to lick it up. He hissed.

“Careful, pretty girl. I’ll fuck your mouth all you want later, but I want something else right now.” Your cheeks heated at his words. You moved further up the bed, and he followed, resting with his forearms on either side of your head, his cock slipping slowly in and out of the folds of your pussy, the ridge between head and shaft catching deliciously on your clit. He spoke up again.

“I want you to tell me for sure if you want this or not, sweetheart.”

You nodded vehemently.

“Ah-ah, that’s not enough. I want to hear you say it. Tell me you want me to fuck you right now.” But how could you form so many words, that beautiful cock between your legs and your brain melting out of your ears? You suddenly found the strength to be very talkative.

“God, please, Eddie, I want you to fuck me. Put your cock in me, I want to feel it, I want to-“ he laughed and silenced you with a kiss.

“Oh, Princess. Such good manners, asking so nicely,” he replied teasingly. “If you ask like that, I’ll give you whatever you want.

He lined the head of his cock up with your entrance, and you sighed. Finally.

“Ah, one more thing.” He reached behind him for your left hand, which you had practically buried in the flesh of his back, and brought it in front of him to slide off your wedding ring, throwing it to the floor. You’d have to find that later.

Then finally, finally, after months of the two of you pining after each other, each one too afraid to tell the other, he slid into you.

God, Eddie felt like he was on fire.

He’d never done it raw before, never trusted anyone he was with to really be clean, but he trusted you, and he was glad of it.

Your eyes rolled back in your head as you gasped, back arching off the bed. Eddie wasn’t any more put together than you were.

“Fuck, so fucking warm, so fucking wet, all for me,” he moaned trying to catch his breath and giving you a moment to adjust to his size. He smiled, and brushed a stray lock of hair from your face. “How are you doing, sweetheart?”

You were breathless, trying to relax enough to comfortably take him. “Could you move just a little?”

Eddie nodded, he was only about three quarters of the way in. He pulled out half an inch, and thrusted back into you, setting a slow and shallow pace while you adjusted. You slowly felt yourself relax, and then wrapped your legs around him to pull him in fully.

“Alright,” you said. “You can move.”

Eddie was seated balls deep inside the girl he was in love with. He was going to make damn sure he gave it to you the way you needed.

He started slowly, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, setting a gentle pace, but he couldn’t keep this up much longer. It was taking everything in him to not plow you into the mattress until you screamed his name.

“Harder Eddie, please,” you called out, and it was like a dam broke right in front of you.

He sat up, grabbing your hips and lifting them slightly to meet him, your upper half still on the mattress. He was fucking you hard, and you loved it. In this position he brushed against your g-spot with every thrust, and you used two fingers to circle your clit.

You came almost immediately, still sensitive from the oral you’d received a few minutes prior. As you clenched around him, Eddie came to the realization that he wasn’t going to last much longer.

He dropped back down, your hips back on the mattress with him nearly laying on top of you, still drilling into you like his life depended on it.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he paused his speech to kiss you. “It’s been a while, I’m not going to last much longer.”

You smiled. “That’s alright, Eds. I want you to cum.” His hips stuttered.

“In-inside? Or on-on your stomach, or…” he was fighting to keep up the pace, his thrusts getting sloppier.

“Inside, please Eddie, I want you to fill me up with your cum.”

He’s fairly certain you broke him.

Your permission was all he needed. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m cumming,” he cried out. His admission pushed you over the edge, and you came once again, Eddie taking you both through your joint orgasms.

His hips finally stilled, and he smiled down at you before practically collapsing on top of you, making you laugh.

“I love you,” he mumbled, muffled because he said it with his face pressed into the pillow beneath your head. You pulled the hair tie from his hair and ran your fingers through it.

“I love you too, Eddie,” you replied, tears pricking at your eyes. He rolled off of you and propped himself up on an elbow to look at you.

“Sweetheart, what do you want to do now? Do you want to stay with him?” he questioned, hoping to God your answer was no.

“No Eddie, I don’t. I just don’t know where else to go.”

“I could take care of you. I’ll take you into town tomorrow, we’ll talk to a lawyer. You can move your stuff while he’s away for the weekend and you’ll never have to deal with him again. I’ll protect you,” he said, searching your eyes for an answer.

You turn to face him fully, tears flowing freely now. “Really? You’d help me with all of that?”

“God, of course, sweetheart. I’ll help you with all of that and more because I love you.” He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, far more chaste than any he’s given you up until now.

“I love you too, Eddie. More than anything,” you reply.

Things are looking up for you, and you can’t wait to see where this is going to go.

Eddie is thrilled you chose Option D.

[eclipsewxtch]

If the basement boys from your universes (any universe) had pets, what pet would they have?

Robin - tarantula. 100%. he has to have the creepiest pet.

Vance - in one fic he has lizards, in another he has a bunny—i alternate between those two bc tough blond boy w a bunny is so so adorable (and he’s a HOPPER) and him having lizards lowkey just fits. the lizard in question is a gecko.

Billy - Dog (canon)

Griffin - Dog, sometimes a snake. he loves those little guys sm

Finney - Bunny. I hc he had fish once but they were beta fish and he didn’t know you could keep two males in the same tank and they ended up dying and somehow a bunny was less likely to die in his care.

Bruce - cats. he fucking loves them.

[40-years-of-robin-ii]

✨✨DAY TWO!✨✨  

Check out the amazing works and de sure to leave kudos and comments for our lovely, awesome participants! 🎁🎉

1. Double the Bunnying for daemoninwhite [Fic - Gift, Explicit, Creator Chose Not To Warn]

Relationships: Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent/Jason Todd, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent

Tags:  Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Oral Knotting, Knotting, Deception, Under-negotiated Kink, Kemonomimi, Dirty Talk, Humiliation, Male Lactation, Lactation Kink, Tim Drake Has a Large Penis, Intersex Omegas, Vaginal Sex, Dry Humping, Nesting, Face-Fucking, Established TimKon, Threesome - M/M/M, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Rabbit Jason Todd, Rabbit Conner Kent, Red Panda Tim Drake, Slut Shaming, Omega Jason Todd, Omega Kon-El | Conner Kent, Animal Traits, Bunny Kink

Summary: What Conner displays are classic traits of an omega bunny during his never-ending, lifelong heat. The misty-eyed look of bliss, the constant humping with his little tail straightened behind him, leaving faint shadows of itself as his hips jerk rapidly against Tim’s thigh, long, gray-furred, lopped ears flip-flopping over his punk haircut. It looks like Tim’s finally found another omega to share his heat.

2. Carnivorous Flower for cadkitten [Art - Gift, Mature, No Archive Warnings Apply]

Relationships: Jason Todd/Damian Wayne

Tags:  Adult Damian Wayne, Smoking, Thigh Holsters, Safe Sane and Consensual

Summary:   Damian, and the love of his life.

3. Stifled for Llisona [Fic - Gift, Teen, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death]

Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Cassandra Cain & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Jason Todd

Tags:  Angst, Protective Batfamily (DCU), Chronic Pain, Illnesses, Dead Joker (DCU), Jason Todd is Red Hood, Jason Todd Has a Bad Time, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Chronic Illness, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Procedures, Emergency Tracheostomies, Choking, Hopeful Ending

Summary:   Jason Todd finally kills the Joker, but he made a miscalculation.

4. what baking can do for wewritefic [Fic - Gift, Teen, No Archive Warnings Apply]

Relationships: Jason Todd & Family, Tim Drake/Jason Todd

Tags:  Cooking, Food as a Metaphor for Love, 5+1 Things, Fluff, (mostly), Jason's canonical traumas, Family

Summary: Five times Jason connects to somebody by preparing food, and one time he doesn't.

5. Jason's resurrection goes a little differently he is loved and missed for dragonpyre [Fic - Gift, General Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply]

Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne

Tags: 

Summary: Jason had a rebellious streak in him but Jason took to the training like a fish to water. Jason and I were going to be a great team. That was all that mattered. Crime in Gotham beware. But Jason, the new robin came with an overloaded emotional luggage. My worst fear was that Jason would want more than justice for his father's death, when we discovered that Two-Face had done him in. I was afraid that Jason was going to be out for blood, like Dick had been all those many years ago. Like I had been after losing my parents. Then the moment of truth came, and my Jason walked away. That day I’d been so shocked and proud of Jason. Jason was better than me or Dick. At last, everything would be okay, or so I thought.

6. Free Tire Removal Service for G_of_Thorn [Fic - Gift, General Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply]

Relationships: Jason Todd & Tim Drake & Cassandra Cain & Stephanie Brown & Dick Grayson

Tags:  Jason Todd is Not Adopted, Jason Todd is a Menace, Jason Todd is Not a Batfamily Member, BAMF Jason Todd, Possibly Pre-Slash

Summary: Jason Todd was never adopted by Bruce Wayne, even if he did make a name for himself at fifteen by stealing the tires off the Batmobile and getting away with it.Some years later, Jason Todd has risen up the ranks in Gotham City as the crime boss Red Hood and controls the Bowery. Not even Batman himself will pick a fight with him, despite Jason stealing his tires three more times since he took over the Bowery.But the Bat kids are a different story. They don't understand boundaries.

[pack-the-pack]

If you're aware of the show Gotham can you please match them? Thank you so much for your time and effort.

Hello!

Yes I am aware of the show Gotham. And I watched it to a point. I don't remember til when, I think I stopped after (SPOILER ALERT!) Ivy became an adult out of nowhere? That was weird and unnecessary. I love the first seasons though! They sprouted many hdcns for my main DC ship.

So I'll just match the people I do remember from the show:

Bruce: Alpha (sorry to disappoint, but I'm going Alpha here), because to me no matter the universe, Bruce Whiny will be forever an emotionally constipated Alpha.

Selena/Cat: Beta. No I won't say Alpha neither will I say Omega. I'll say Beta because hell yeah Beta Cat-Woman!

Alfred Pennyworth: Badass Beta.

James Gordon: Can there be a more thoroughbred Alpha? The answer is no.

Harvey Bullock: Tired, fed up, Alpha.

Fish Mooney: Beta. Bet you wanted me to say Alpha huh? Nah. That woman has the blood-rush of a vindictive animal. Beta it is. And honestly, all the power to her for it.

Oswald Cobblepot: Omega. Just, innit obvious?

Edward Nygma: Beta. Just, innit obvious too?

Ivy: Omega.

Victor sass Zsasz: Beta beta beta.

Carmine Falcone: Alpha. The pure image of a real Alpha criminal king.

Salvatore Maroni: Alpha. The pure Image of an inept Alpha criminal tyrant.

Leslie (Lee) Thompkins: B for Best Beta.

Barbara Kean: B for Batshit crazy Omega.

Tabitha Galavan: Alpha.

And these are all I remember for now. I might remember more later.

[ao3feed-superbat]

Cream Soda Mermaid

by halberdobsession

Thomas paused. For a confusing second, everything felt the same. Thoughts of clouds and rain were chased from his mind as he turned back to look at the eggs. He stared for what may have been seconds or hours, the world slowly narrowing to just him and the spotlit tank as the sun retreated its last whispers of warmth behind the horizon.

Blurred by the gauzy shell, the dark shadow of one of the fry's body twitched.

Thomas felt as if he had been doused in cold water.

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

An AU where most everything is the same except superbat are mermaids. And mers in this AU are the size of real life fish, so mini fish superbat!

Including but not limited to cryptid sewer monster bruce (kinda) and clark basically being a magical girl (fish?) (thanks MAWS)

Words: 3805, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types, DCU

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne, Thomas Wayne, Martha Wayne

Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Merpeople, How Do I Tag, Help, au where most everything is the same except superbat are mermaids lol, SuperBat, all characters except clark and bruce are secondary, will update tags as fic updates, Cannibalism, dw it's very small heehee, mini mermaids!, Kryptonian Biology (DCU), Kryptonite (DCU), Alien Biology, Minor Character Death, off screen lol, Horror, a little bit, i try at least, no beta we die like jason todd, thats a lie I did read over my own work, or else it'd be gibberish

source https://archiveofourown.org/works/48484429

[plotwholls]

“A date.”

“Wow, hi to you too; Bruce, why are you bothering me about this? I’m going to be late.”

“Jason, this is the first I’ve heard of this, and——”

“Oh my god, Bruce!” Jason flipped up a couch cushion, still trying to find his eReader— it isn’t a big deal, he can read on his phone (!! on his phone!), but it was the first high-tech piece he’d gotten when he came back, and he didn’t want to loose it. “It’s none of your business! I practice safer sex than you, anyway!” He frowned, glancing around again. “Forget it— I’ll find it later— look, Bruce— I get it. Usually, I tell you about my dates—”

“Yes, you do.”

“—in case I go off the rails, but this time, it’s different!”

“So you’re going out with another hero?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “No, a meta— and he’s really nice, Bruce. I really like him.” Jason spent the couple of seconds Bruce spent brooding picking up his apartment a tad more (and trying to find his jacket).

“…Okay. Okay, fine. Does he know? About the Pit Rage?”

Jason snorts. “I don’t know if I need to tell him— when he’s around, it just… doesn’t matter…? I don’t know how to explain it, I just… feel like… me.”

“…I hate this. You’re sure I can’t look them up?”

Jason laughs. “Yes! Yes, I’m sure!”

“Then why are you still on this call? You have a date to get to!”

Jason laughed even louder. “Bye, Bruce!”

“Bye, Jay.”

Jason hung up with a grin, just as a knock came at the door— his date was here.

The man (or ghost) of the hour poked his head through the door. He was grinning, too. A hand holding a bouquet of green-eyed daisies follows. “Flowers for the most handsome man in the room?”

Jason’s grin just got wider. “Then why are you handing them to me?” He teases.

Phantom’s other hand came through the door to smack his forehead. “Ah! See, that would be true if I was actually in the room, but I’m only halfway through the door—”

“Shut up and give me the flowers.”

“Good with me— do you need me to make a vase for them?”

“Can you?”

Phantom beamed as he stepped fully through the door. “Yeah, of course! Wouldn’t have offered if I couldn’t. Any preferences?”

Jason hummed, thinking about it as he took the flowers to the kitchen to unbind them. “A beta fish?”

“You want a fish vase?”

“I want a beta fish vase, but yeah. Why, you can’t do it?”

“No, no, I didn’t say that.” Phantom lifted a hand, and in it appeared a crystalline beta fish-shaped vase.

“You’re gonna to be insufferable, aren’t you?”

“I thought the point of this date was to get to know each other, so how do you already know so much about me?”

“Oh my god,” Jason snorted. “I’ve made a horrible mistake.”

“I dunno, destroying a meteorite for a date seems pretty cheap.”

“You’re horrible. I love it. You’ll drive my dad nuts.”

“‘Nuts’ you say?”

“Oh my god—”

Danny was getting impatient.

He had been annoyed at being summoned, then exited when he found himself in the Justice League Watchtower. He was in space! But then the guy in the raincoat begun offering a piece of his soul in exchange for destroying a meteorite, and he had become annoyed instead. He doesn't want a soul! Doesn't this guy get he'd be Danny's slave for eternity? So taking a page off Clockwork's book, he said something cryptic and ominous so no one else tried to bribe him with souls. They had turned white and raincoat guy asked if they could be excused for a moment before pulling the other heroes into a different room. Wich, first off: Rude. Second: Danny couldn't leave the summonning circle unless he made a deal or if he was send back. At first he had been curious what they would offer him now, settling into a more humanoid form instead of the eldritch nightmare being summoned always forced him into. That had been a while ago though, and now he was getting impatient. They better come back soon so he can go deal with the problem. He'll do it for a Pop-tart at this point, as long as he can go break that overgrown space-rock!

Jason was pissed. Batman had ordered everyone to come to the Watchtower immediatly. Jason didn't even have time to get in proper uniform,settling for a domino mask instead of the helmet. Good thing he had 2, because Nightwing had even brought Alfred! Jason wanted anwsers, why did B rush them here? He hadn't even greeted or explained anything to them, just had Plastic-man bring them to a room to wait. But Jason was done waiting, so he stormed to the main briefing room. He expected B and his Justice club. Instead he found a glowing, floating hero. The floor glowed a bit beneath him, his skin tinted green and his hair floated as if underwater, a crown surrounded by its own northen light. He was beautifull. Anger forgotten, he made his way over, deciding to make some small talk. 'Hello there! Are you a new hero? I've never seen you before?'

Danny was startled. He'd been focussing on the door the heroes left through, trying to will them back. He hadn't even noticed the Liminal behind him until he spoke! He turned around, and was again caught of guard. Even with the Domino covering his eyes,he could tell this guy was really handsome! A mountain of chiseled muscles and a white streak of hair that gave him something mysterious. Oh crap, he was staring. What did he say again? 'Hello! I'm Phantom. It's nice to meet you!' The Liminal introduced himself as Red Hood. 'Anyone ever tell you you're drop-dead gorgeous?' Danny laughed. Hot and death puns? Yep, he's going for it. The Leaguers aren't back yet anyway.

Jason was kicking himself. Really? That's the best he could come up with? Thank god Phantom had seemed to like it. 'Well, it certainly wouldn't get a rise out of me if they did!' he said. 'So what are you doing here? I didn't see you at the meeting?' Jason shrugged. 'No idea actually. B called for all hands on deck, so here I am. What are you here for?' Phantom sighed. 'They got me here to deal with some stupid rock, but then ditched me here for an impromptu meeting. I just want to go take care of it, but I can't just leave.' Phantom looked annoyed. Jason asked if Phantom wanted a tour of the Watchtower, surely Flash could get him when they needed him? Phantom looked dejected. He couldn't leave without being dismissed. Jason decided to make a move. 'Ok, how about this: you deal with that rock, and afterwards, we can meet up in Gotham and I'll give you a tour there! Deal?' Phantom looked up, an inhumanly while smile on his face.

'Deal!'

After that Phantom had left, saying the boyscouts had their chance. 'I look forward to our date!' He said and then dissapeared. Jason was exited! He went back to the others, who hadn't noticed he'd left. No matter, he had a date to plan!

Contantine was freaking out. The meteorite had proven too much for the Justice League. Most of their heavy hitters had been off-planet or out off commision. The damn thing was even made of kryptonite! He had no choice but to summon the only being that he knew of that could deal with it and could be bribed. He had offered the mighty Ghost King a piece of his soul, but been rejected! Batman had offered his own soul instead, but again this offer wasn't enough. The Ghost King explained there were billions of mortals about to become his subjects. Why trade that for 1 measily soul? He needed a better offer if they wanted his help. Panicked, Constantine had pulled the other League members into a different room, not wanting them to make a deal by accident. They were all making desperate suggestions. What could be worth more than every soul on Earth? They had made a list of magical and historical artifacts from every members background. It was a long shot, but the meteorite was getting too close. As they went back to the Ghost King they were praying it would be enough.

The King was gone. Suddenly in the distance the meteorite exploded. Someone had made a deal with the Ghost King, and no one knew who. What had they offered?

What could possible be worth more to the High King of the Infinite Realms than every living soul on Earth?

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

does anybody have a map?

by ana_cassie4 A short look into Bruce’s feelings after he fired Alfred. 17 NOWHERE ELSE TO GO ruined map ǀ shipwrecked ǀ “we had a good run” Words: 1059, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 15 of Whumptober 2024 Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen Characters: Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth Relationships: Alfred Pennyworth & Bruce Wayne Additional Tags: Kid Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth is Bruce Wayne's Parent, set during season 2 episode 2 (knock knock), Angst, Whumptober 2024, no beta we die like fish mooney via https://ift.tt/pi2uBLO

[jrosa82fanfics]

Part 3 of Discovering Safety

Jason had come to the Manor at 13 already having presented as an omega, the same could not be said of the younger boy who had joined them earlier that month. At 15 he was preparing to have his first heat while the other at only 11 had yet to present. Despite the four years that separated them Jason quickly warmed to Tim. Whenever he was reading in the library curled up in a pile of pillows on a soft couch the other boy would often join him with his laptop in hand to work on his homework.

Jason had slowly gotten involved in the family business but quickly found he had no interest in the board meetings and the power plays that executives seemed so thrilled by. Instead he gravitated toward the charity work their family did. Whenever he got involved in a new project he felt as though his knowledge was finally being put to good use, after all who knew better what those who lived in the worst parts of the city needed then someone born and raised there.

He’s working on the first school he’d fundraise to renovate over the summer. If they managed to convince or guilt enough money out of Gotham’s wealthy elites to buy everything, they would be able to buy everything from desks and school supplies to new floors and light fixtures. He was personally going to check the library the next morning to see if new books were needed as well.

Tim on the other hand, had taken to their family business like a fish to water and was excited to spend the next day with their father at the office. Although Tim refused to call Bruce his father he had not seemed to have any qualms about Jason referring to him as his brother and treating him as one. He hadn’t been able to have that with Dick, the other having left the morning after he arrived and not returning since. It stabbed at his heart every once in a while, that he had been unworthy of the alphas affection, that he had left Jason, but he pushed the thoughts away. He didn’t need Dick to like him or want to spend time with him. The only effect it had was to make him try harder to welcome Tim.

The other hadn’t wanted to talk about why he was there at first, and though Jason knew the Drake’s were their neighbors it took several months to get an explanation. It ended up being more of a short bullet point-like description of the events that had brought the other boy into his life and home but it was better than nothing. His mother had been assassinated, his father becoming more distant, and when Bruce helped him find a lead on who had murdered his mother and gotten the man behind it arrested he had decided that he wanted to join their little pack. 

It seemed a horrible way to meet, but Tim didn’t seem to mind and refused to grieve in front of Jason. He had made it a habit to bring the younger boy hot cocoa and drag him to the den to watch cheesy rom coms with him so that he couldn’t mope in his room all the time. He enjoyed seeing the other boy laugh at the antics of the ‘soulmates’ portrayed on screen or his occasional look of horror and disgust when an omega or beta woman found the creepy behaviors of the supposedly hot alpha pursuing them to be romantic. Jason was a fan of action movies most of the time, as any romance he liked tended to be found in books not whatever Hollywood wanted to throw people’s way, but every once in a while they’d end up watching a decent romance unfold on screen. 

It makes Jason long for that sort of relationship himself. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to trust an alpha after having seen so many of the horrors they inflict on omegas like him, but then again Bruce is an alpha and he isn’t like that. In the two years he had lived with the man he had never hit him or threatened to hurt him in any way. He rarely raises his voice at Jason, and is quick to calm himself when he does. Jason’s grown to feel safe near him and hopes that he’ll find an alpha he can trust like that one day. In the meantime he has a warm cozy home while he finishes high school and prepares to go to Gotham University for a degree in English Lit. He isn’t sure where he’ll go after that but figures he’ll know when he gets there.