#coming back to brudick post who’s surprised

[inkrats]

Dick having such a canon hatred for Talia (as well as an assortment of other women Bruce has been with) is so funny to me like oh you wish that was you so fucking badly. You wish Bruce had fucked a baby into you 10 years ago and that it came out as his carbon copy with a few features that are so undeniably yours huh? And now you have to pretend at it when you hold Damian after a nightmare and Bruce still calls her “beloved” in front of your face?

[vellaphoria]

for the ask game… 30?

(also I know this isn’t on the list but is there any WIP you’re super excited about?)

Thanks for the ask! (and for the freeform question giving me the opportunity to rant about my WIPs! <3 ) 30. Biggest surprise while writing this year? I have a different answer for this one here, but I wrote a second answer since it occurred to me a bit earlier lol The most surprising thing was that in the middle of writing a DickTim oneshot, some random implied BruDick UST got in there somehow?? Which was surprising because I've never written brudick and don't generally read it. But the fic is going to do what the fic is going to do, I suppose 😂 Is there any WIP you’re super excited about? Absolutely!! One that I've been actively stopping myself from publishing parts of is the slowburn DickTim fic that I'm working on. It started as a oneshot of the two of them being stuck in a snowstorm together post Red Robin and having to work their shit out (and there was only one bed lol). Then it became a 5 + 1 of times they had shared beds. Aaaaand then it became a slowburn covering the arc of their relationship from A Lonely Place of Dying to post-RR. It's completely gone off the rails lol. The exact number keeps changing, but this thing currently has 60 planned chapters. I've written 65k words of it and it's probably not even a quarter done. But!! As I've been writing, I've also been re-visiting post-crisis comics with the two of them in it, which is fun since I haven't really taken the time to do that chronologically before. Excerpt from Chapter 2:

For the hundredth time that night, Dick looks at the last picture ever taken of him and his parents. It had arrived at the manor a week after he’d been moved in, sent in the mail by the couple who’d asked to have it taken. The edges are a bit worn, but he’s kept it out of the light and done everything he could to make sure that the colors don’t fade.

What would they want him to do?

He’s been turning that question over in his mind for hours now and he still isn’t sure. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to be sure…

They’d always told him that kids didn’t really run away to the circus anymore, but on the off-chance that one did, then the best thing to do was to be kind. Anyone running away like that was dealing with something serious in their life, and it was the right thing to do to try and find a way to help.

He can’t help but laugh a little, under his breath. From hypothetical runaway kids to whatever animals wandered through Haly’s looking for food and shelter, his parents had always had a soft spot for strays.

Not that this kid counts as a stray, exactly. Or that he ran away to join the circus.

Honestly it would be easier if he had.

The windows are a bit grimy from everyone who’s used this trailer over the years, but faint moonlight still shines through. Just enough of it to illuminate the rise and fall of the blankets on Dick’s bed.

A few days ago, he’d expected to spend most of his weekend helping out around Haly’s and prepping for the Saturday and Sunday night shows. Being ambushed by an over-eager kid from Gotham who looks like he weighs about ninety pounds soaking wet hadn’t been anywhere near his radar.

If he was in the Manor, he could have just relegated the kid to one of the many guest rooms. But if he was in the Manor, then the kid wouldn’t have felt the need to come looking for him, would he?

He sighs, letting his head fall back against the chair that he’d squeezed into the too-small space of the trailer. He tries not to wish Roy were here to offer him the strongest drink he could scare up.

On the bed, the kid shifts in his sleep, turning over. His face holds nothing of the frantic, intense expression he’d first come to Dick with, asking him to go back to Gotham.

And talk to Bruce. And be Robin again.

As if he hadn’t left that all behind him for good reasons.

As if Bruce hadn’t been very clear that he doesn’t need or want a partner ever again.

Maybe the kid would be less keen on the idea of Dick going back if he told him that Bruce erased every last trace of the last Robin from the Manor and Cave. Or if he told the kid that the large, dark bruise on his face was from Bruce’s fist. Then again… maybe he already knows? The little stalker broke into Dick’s apartment and rifled through his memories of better times. Despite being a teenager with no apparent training outside of what are probably judo lessons, he managed to take clear, distressingly up-close pictures of the goddamn Batman. He outright admitted that he knows who they are.

Dick’s not sure what to do about that. Anyone who knows their identities is a risk. And yet, this kid was able to figure it out… admittedly through means that wouldn’t be apparent to anyone who wasn’t as weirdly obsessed with his civilian persona as this kid seems to be. Even so, it’s dangerous to have people out there who know. What’s stopping some villain from snatching the kid off the street and making him talk?

He closes his eyes, one hand rubbing circles against his temple as he tries to will away the oncoming headache.

That’s reason enough to bring him to Bruce for questioning, even if he wasn’t right about Bruce going off the deep end. Even if every step Dick has taken to try and stop Bruce from spiraling has been rebuffed. Sometimes violently.

When his eyes open again, the kid is staring back at him. His blue irises are even harder to miss in the moonlight.

“I… um. Are you sure you don’t want the bed?” he asks. “I don’t mind sleeping in the chair…”

It’s not the first time tonight Dick has wondered if he should have just driven them directly to Gotham, despite the setting sun and the likelihood of catching Bruce in the volatile post-patrol fugue that has become all too common with the man these days.

“No, it’s fine,” he says. “I don’t sleep much anyway.”

The kid’s eyes get a little wider. A little brighter.

“Because of N-”

“Yes,” Dick says, cutting him off a bit more sharply than he intended.

If the kid notices, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he nods solemnly, as if Dick had just confirmed every suspicion he ever had about the way the world works.

His eyes are still wide though. Dick remembers them being the first thing he clocked about the kid. Blue eyes. Lighter than his, but darker than Bruce’s. More of a grey-blue, compared to the near-teal that Jason’s had been.

Blue eyes. Black hair. Asking about Batman.

The kid’s a walking bad omen. And Dick doesn’t need to be a detective to see the pattern here. If he brings this kid to Bruce and they actually manage to get him out of his funk, then…

“Hey, kid,” he says.

“Tim,” the kid says back to him. He doesn’t look particularly put out by Dick not remembering his name.

“Okay, Tim. Where are your parents?”

Tim blinks at him. “Somewhere in the Gobi Desert. Or, they were there last week, at least.”

Dick is so distracted by the fact that the kid has living parents, and thus no need for a new guardian, that it takes him a moment to register what the kid actually said.

“Wait, if they’re in the Gobi Desert…”

“I’m in boarding school,” Tim volunteers. “We’re on break right now, so I was able to sneak out.”

“And come… here?”

Tim nods.

“Because someone had to tell you that Ba-” he jumps at Dick narrowing his eyes, “that Bruce has been getting worse. He needs help. He needs Robin.”

As if Dick doesn’t know. Then again, maybe his inaction looks like ignorance to this kid who traveled to another state at the drop of a hat to help someone he met once as a toddler. He’s not sure if the kid’s rose-colored glasses are because of his age or because he doesn’t know Bruce personally. Or, more likely, both.

“That doesn’t change anything,” he says. “I can’t be Robin again.”

Tim stares back at him guilelessly. “Why not?”

Now that’s a question.

“You think I’d still fit in those scaly panties?” Dick says, smiling humorlessly and side-stepping anything resembling a real answer.

Tim flushes. “Um… no. I guess not.”

“Exactly.”

“But… someone has to do something.”

“I’m going to do something, but it has nothing to do with being Robin.” Dick says. “I’m going to try to talk him down. Again. If even people outside the community are starting to notice Bruce’s… coping mechanisms, then we’ve got a problem. Hopefully he’ll be able to see that.”

Tim smiles, though just a little.

“Thank you,” he says, as if Dick is doing him a personal favor.

Part of him wants to tell the kid not to get his hopes up. But… he’ll know soon enough. And far be it from Dick to crush what little optimism the kid’s likely to have about the situation.

[gaygent37]

The Boy in the Attic - Day 8

No-Set-Prompt-List-tober, October 8: GHOSTS

BruDick, ghost boy Dick, human Bruce, underage, age gap, seduction, anal sex, riding, 1,278 words

/╲/\╭( ͡° ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° ͡°)╮/\╱\

Bruce’s new house was haunted. 

He found out on the second night there, when he heard strange noises coming from the attic. Upon inspection, he found out that it was occupied by the ghost of a teenager who called himself Dick. 

Ever since Dick found out that Bruce lived in the house, he had been bothering Bruce non-stop, following him around and talking to him. 

Bruce had refused to interact with Dick, and Dick was getting desperate. 

“I know you can hear me, Bruce,” Dick said, sitting across from Bruce at the dinner table. “I see you looking at me when you think I’m not looking. And I see the way you look at me too,” Dick smirked. “But it’s okay,” he said. “I don’t mind it at all. I like it, in fact. I’ve always been a fan of older men myself,” he giggled. 

Bruce ignored him, but his cock did twitch in interest. Still, Bruce gave no sign that it had happened. He continued eating his steak and potatoes while scrolling through movies to watch. 

He found some ghastly horror movie to watch, hoping the blood and gore would keep him and his traitorous cock in check. It did its job quite well, and Bruce as able to tune Dick out, much to the ghost boy’s chagrin. It also made Bruce lose his appetite, so he cleaned up and decided to run himself a bath instead. 

Just as he stepped into the bathtub, closing his eyes, ready to lean down into the bubbles, Dick floated out of the water with a sneaky grin on his face. 

“Wow, B,” Dick said. “You’ve been keeping the goods from me, hm?”

Bruce sat up suddenly, his eyes wide and shocked to find Dick in the bathtub with him. Water sloshed out of the bath. 

“Hey, hey,” Dick said. “It’s alright,” he whispered. “Just sit back and relax, Bruce. Let me take care of you.”

Bruce swallowed hard, unable to tear his eyes away from Dick’s smile. Then the felt it. The slightest touch on his leg. 

“Shit!” Bruce cursed, jerking in the bathtub again. “Dick, no, you can’t-”

Dick only smiled wider, knowing that Bruce’s acknowledgement was his victory. “Just relax, B. I know you want it, and I want it too. I know what I’m doing.”

Bruce was weak. He gave Dick one last pleading look before his resolve cracked, and he leaned back and let out a shaky breath. He closed his eyes, and he heard Dick hum in contentment. 

He felt a stronger brush against his leg, closer to his cock, which was rapidly filling up. The brush became the stroking of a couple of fingers, and when it finally did reach his cock, it was a firm pressing of a ghostly palm. 

When Dick wrapped his hand around Bruce’s cock, his eyes flew open, gasping at the touch. It had been so long since someone other than himself had touched him. 

Dick gave Bruce’s hard cock a few experimental pumps as he watched Bruce’s expression hungrily. 

“Oh, Bruce,” Dick moaned quietly. “I want you inside me,” he panted. “Can I? Can I please, Bruce?” His pale blue eyes were suddenly so bright and innocent, and Bruce could not say no to them. 

He swallowed hard and nodded. “Climb on top of me,” he groaned. 

The water did not move as Dick clambered on top of Bruce, and even though Bruce could feel Dick’s weight settle on him, no water was displaced by the movement.

Then, Bruce felt the head of his cock being pressed against a hot hole, one that was slowly sucking him into its tight depths. 

Bruce groaned as he felt Dick envelop him. Unable to hold back anymore, Bruce reached out and found Dick’s hips, grabbing him. The boy felt like warm flesh under his hands, and Bruce pulled him down firmly, impaling him in one swift stroke. 

“Ah!” Dick cried out, throwing his head back. “Ohhh, B, that feels so good!” He started moving his hips, without even pausing to get used to the feeling. 

“It doesn’t hurt?” Bruce asked in wonder. 

Dick shook his head. “Feels- Feels so good,” he said with a smile. He lifted himself up more before letting himself drop back down on top of Bruce’s cock. Little moans slipped from his throat with each movement, and he tightened around Bruce rhythmically, as if trying to milk his cock. 

“Fucking hell, Dickie,” Bruce groaned, starting to move his hips up to meet Dick, no longer worried about the soapy bath water that was spilling out onto the bathroom floor. 

Dick moaned louder. “Fuck me, Bruce!” he cried out. “Fuck me harder, please!”

Bruce had no reason not to oblige. He slammed their hips together, fucking Dick faster and harder, chasing his own orgasm in the ghost boy’s body. 

Dick’s eyes were squeezed shut so tightly from overwhelming pleasure. Suddenly, with one last loud wail, Dick came, tightening incredibly around Bruce’s cock, triggering the man’s orgasm at the same time. 

Bruce pulled Dick down onto his cock, hard. Then, he came into him, spurting his cum deep inside the ghostly teen.

After coming down from his orgasm, Dick collapsed forward onto Bruce’s body. Bruce was surprised to actually be able to feel the boy. He had seen Dick fly through tables and walls like it was nothing, and yet, Bruce could feel him as solidly as anything else in his house. 

Bruce removed his hand from Dick’s hip and put it on Dick’s back instead, gently rubbing small circles into the boy’s back. 

“Good?” he asked softly. 

Dick made a soft humming noise and nuzzled Bruce’s neck. “Mhmm.”

Bruce could not help but smile. “Let’s get out of the bath, Dickie,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to Dick’s temple. He pushed away the nagging thoughts at how strange and how wrong his situation was. He did not need the guilt ruining his post-orgasm bliss. 

Bruce took a chance and wrapped his arms around Dick’s body, carrying the sleepy boy out of the bath bridal style. A torrent of water followed them out of the bathtub, but Bruce ignored it. He sat Dick down on the sink and he toweled himself down. Then, he started drying Dick. 

Suddenly, the towel fell through Dick’s body like he was not there, though Bruce could see him sitting there still. 

Dick looked down at himself. “Oh,” he said. “I’m dry again.” He smiled up at Bruce’s baffled expression. 

“Let’s go to sleep, B,” he said. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

He pushed himself off of the sink without waiting for Bruce’s answer and went to Bruce’s bedroom. 

It took a second for Bruce to follow, and he found Dick already in bed when he got there. 

Bruce climbed into bed next to Dick, and Dick snuggled up close to him, though Bruce could not feel him lying there. The only thing he could feel was Dick’s hair tickling the bottom of his chin.

“So how come I could feel you in the water, but anytime you’re not wet you’re not corporeal? Is it some magical property of water that only applies to ghosts?” Bruce asked, gently stroking Dick’s damp hair, the only part of Dick that Bruce could still touch. But he could only feel it sometimes. Other times, Bruce’s hand passes through his hair.

Dick hummed tiredly. “'s not that,” he giggled. “I just drowned in that bathtub,” he said casually. “Probably has something to do with that.”

“What.” Bruce’s hand stopped stroking Dick’s hair. 

“G’night, B,” Dick murmured.

“Dick. What the fuck.”

But the ghost boy was already asleep.

/╲/\╭( ͡° ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° ͡°)╮/\╱\ 

Hope you guys enjoyed!