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omega-e123 · 4 months ago

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!! NSFW !!

cw: mild somnophilia(?), Cunnilingus, Vaginal sex. Fingering. Breeding kink.

In A Rut…

Prologue || Restraint || Part 3 (HERE) || Adoration

Indulgence

Depressed. Lonely. Unwanted. Those are the words that you’d describe how you’re feeling. You knew Shadow liked his personal space, but isn’t this a bit much? After being the only one initiating for a month straight, it’s finally taken its toll on you.

Rationally, you’re aware if Shadow didn’t at least tolerate your company, he wouldn’t give you the time of day. Let alone reciprocate affection when given. It still hurt, putting in all the effort suddenly.

It’s been a while since the last time you spent the night at his place. Not from the lack of asking. Shadow shot down every time it was brought up. The way he answered differed. Sometimes it was a flat, “No.” Other times he would go silent, deep into thought before politely declining. There was no tell whether or not Shadow was hesitating to say yes or to say no.

Tonight was the night. You practically begged him. Your hands clasps his, bringing it to your chest. Puppy eyes refuse to break contact even as he slightly turned his head away. “Pretty please Shadow? Pleaaaase? I really miss you. Just one night,” you implored.

Shadow grits his teeth. The glaring annoyance in his features conceal Shadow’s inner turmoil. Curse these damn thoughts. If only you were begging for something else. I’d give it all in a heartbeat.

Damn it— “Tch! Fine. For one night.”

It’s a good thing he already replaced those torn covers…

*ੈ��‧₊˚

The plan was simple. You take his bed, Shadow takes the couch. With this arrangement, he can keep himself in check while you’re still able to get a peaceful night’s sleep.

What a fool he was hoping that you’d agree.

Even though Shadow insisted he take the couch so you can have his bed all to yourself, you countered with, “Well, if you’re going to sleep on the couch so will I! I didn’t ask to stay for the night for us to end up not sleeping together, idiot.”

At first, you tried to sleep with your head laid on his chest. Leg propped over Shadow’s torso. Normally, you both wouldn’t have a problem falling into a deep slumber like this. A subtle steady heartbeat coercing your body to drift away. Protective arms wrapped around your being. Tonight? You weren’t sure if who you’re nuzzling against was a hedgehog or a wooden log.

Try as he might, Shadow couldn’t relax his muscles. In and out. Focus on breathing. Nothing else.

Don’t pay any mind on how much his body has been aching for your touch. Ignore the hot breath that tickles his chest. Your sickly sweet scent filling up his nose. The way your crotch is pressed up against his hip.

You resign, noticing the rigid, mechanical breathing. Wordlessly peeling yourself off of Shadow to lay on your side, back towards him. Better not make him any more uncomfortable even though you really wanted to cuddle him. Give him space and let him chase.

Almost immediately, some of the tension Shadow was holding dissipates. Finally allowing himself to sink further into the mattress. The air feels like a thousand needles pricking him now that your warmth is gone. A heavy breath leaves him, not noticing he’s been holding it in this whole time.

It would be so much easier if he simply told you what is going on. Why he has been ‘distant’ for the past few weeks. Bringing up the topic feels too awkward, too… humiliating. Your partner is so stubborn when it came to asking for help. Shadow didn’t need to suffer alone at all if only he spoke up. You were more than happy to assist him whenever needed… this Shadow knew well.

Weight of the mattress shifts behind you. Springs crunching and squeaking underneath. You paid no mind as your consciousness stood at the border of dreamland.

As the last strand of thought was about to be plucked away, a paid of arms found purchase around your waist. Like a squeaky toy being squeezed, your eyes shot open and bulged out as you quietly squealed from the sudden movement.

Shadow’s body and yours press up against each other. Legs tangle with one another. A tender kiss is pressed to the back of your neck sending goosebumps down your spine.

Sleep finally drags you into the void.

ੈ✩‧₊˚

Moonlight peeks through the cracks of the black out curtains. Watching your every move. Shadows intertwine and dance upon the cool sheets of the bed. Ecstasy clings onto every inch of your skin. Combined sweat glistening due to the spotlight provided by the moon.

“Ngh.. haah.. Shadow—“

Your heart leaps out of your chest. The utterance of your partners name startles you awake. Wetness pools in between your legs from the dream. Underwear sticks uncomfortably to your cunt.

Heavy breathing combined with something hard pressed against your ass signals that you’re not the only one having a wonderful dream or maybe he was the cause? Pressure varies from light to firm in a nice rhythmic pattern.

Shadow’s arms are wrapped around you tight, unaware that you’re awake. His hot breaths that moan your name tickle your ear. One hand begins to wander. The inhibitor ring gets caught by the fabric, here and there, contributing to his clunky movements. Eventually it finds its way to the edge of your shirt. Shadow’s bare hand slides up your abdomen, between the valley of your breasts, before settling on a mound. Gently but firmly gripping it. Even though you call out his name, no response is given. Shadow continues to hump your ass, riling you up more. Hips begin to move in tandem with his, craving more friction. A whimper escapes past your lips, calling out his name once more.

What woke Shadow up was your hand squeezing the top of his. Blinking the sleep away, he became more aware of his actions.

Guilt swallows him up whole. Shadow mutters a rushed apology, “I didn’t— Forgive me.” His ears flick back momentarily in agitation as he begins to free his limbs from you. Although untangled your hand refuses to let go. When he sits up, so do you. Oh no, you’ve let this gone on long enough.

“Forgive you for what?”, you interject, worry laced in your words. Due to the low light in the room, you could only partially see Shadow’s expression. An oh so familiar mask of stone adorns his face.

He doesn’t move an inch. A good sign. It means he’s not immediately avoiding or distancing himself from you. A chance to reel Shadow back... To keep him grounded.

Silence follows your question. Again, you speak up, “What’s on your mind, my love? You’ve been acting odd these days. If there’s anything I can help you with…”

The void of the room stares straight back at Shadow. Thoughts collecting to form a coherent sentence. Finally he speaks, though not of his own volition. Words spill out before he could stop them, “That’s the problem. You can and you would. Taking advantage of you is not something I intend to do… but I might with my current state.”

Brows furrow and a deep frown sets on your muzzle. “What the fuck are you talking about.” May the gods praise you for your patience with this man—. Sucking in a sharp inhale you speak again,“Shadow.. It is not taking advantage for accepting my help. Otherwise I wouldn’t have offered in the first place. It’s not as if I’m physically unable to say no later down the line anyways,” your free hand reaches up to Shadow’s cheek, turning his face towards you, “So if you could please tell me instead of having me guess, I would appreciate it.”

Your hand is so incredibly soft. Shadow couldn’t help but lean into your touch. “It’s— rutting season,” he mutters under his breath.

“What?”

Although he’s facing you, his eyes refuse to meet yours. Shadow’s shyness announces its presence in the form of crimson staining his cheeks, “It’s.. supposedly the time of the year for hedgehogs having the urge to breed.” His tail thumps excessively at the thought of knocking you up. Reaching back, Shadow grabs his tail to hold it still.

The cogs in your brain begin to turn, putting the pieces together. This whole time he was acting touch adverse due to being overstimulated by your presence. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little disappointed that Shadow didn’t tell you sooner.

Taking too long to answer, Shadow takes your silence as judgement. “Hmph, I’m sleeping on the couch,” he announces, shuffling away from you.

“The hell you are! You’re finishing what you started tonight, mister.” Your partner is forcefully yanked back and pinned onto the mattress. Straddling him, you can see his features much easier. Eyes looking up at you widen in shock before narrowing. Shadow’s fangs flash in a mischievous smirk.

“You are aware of what you’re asking, right?”

“Uh, yes?”

Easy as flipping a pancake, you two switch positions. Your hands are in tight grips above your head. Shadow leans close to your ear, chests nearly touching. In a low sultry voice he says, “You sound unsure. Allow me to clarify: I won’t be done with you until you’re passed out or I’m empty, understood?”

It was as if a switch had been flipped inside him. Now that the laundry has been hung up to air, Shadow can finally indulge what he’s been craving for: you.

Scarlet eyes scan your features for any hint of fear, hesitation. Of course Shadow wants you to be comfortable and enjoy yourself while he lets out his urges.

Immediately your heart leaps into your throat. Excitement shooting through your system like electricity. The edges of your mouth twist upwards into a lopsided smile. “Loud and clear, Shad. You have a lot of lost time to make up,” you answer back cheekily. Finding your answer satisfactory, Shadow encapsulates your lips in a kiss. Starting slow, pacing yourselves, enjoying the moment.

Minuscule moans fill the silence here and there as the pace picks up. Wanting more contact, your hands struggle against Shadow’s grip. One hand lets go to snake under your shirt and massage your breast. The other adjusts to keep both of your wrists down.

So much stimulation but none quite what your body aching for. Legs squirm, complaining about the lack of attention on your bottom half. Your hips arch up, drawing out a guttural moan from Shadow. As you two part, a single string of saliva bridges the gap. He hushes you, “Behave and sit pretty. You can do that, right?”

Entranced, you simply nod your head.

“Good. I promise I’ll take care of you,” Shadow whispers, pecking your cheek. A kiss is pressed to your neck, your throat, collarbone. One after the other, he leaves a trail of kisses leading all the way down to your abdomen.

The smell of your cunt already abuses Shadow’s nose. Hunger grows within him. Patience is a virtue; however, nothing will stop this unholy night. A finger hooks to the hem of your underwear. Delicately Shadow pulls them down, stopping inches from revealing your clit. His lips encapsulates the bud, giving it a gentle suck and a flick of his tongue. A quiet gasp is pulled from you. From there he rips off the thin fabric, tossing it off the bed carelessly.

“Hey! That was my favorite pair!” You complained in a huff.

Teeth graze your inner thighs, causing them to quiver with anticipation. Your concern about the small fabric disintegrated by a simple act. A low feint chuckle can be heard if you listened closely. The underside of your knees are propped up over Shadow’s shoulder after he pulls you down closer by the hip bones. A nip near your pussy elicits a squeal of pain mixed with pleasure. Just as you were about to playfully scold Shadow, a drawn out moan fills the bedroom. His tongue dances over your clit. With each suck, your back arches, chasing his lips. Claws dig into your flesh, drawing little beads of blood. A silent command telling you to hold still.

“Shaaaadow~!” You cry out. So many sensations tingling your skin.

He backs off for a moment, blowing onto the folds of your pussy. Instinctively your knees buckle together.

A quiet, “Hnph,” signals Shadow’s satisfaction in teasing you.

It couldn’t be helped. He’s so aggressive, intending to devour you. Tension builds up in your torso but not quite close to snapping. The folds of your pussy spread as Shadow’s tongue slides up the slit and enters. Drinking up every drop of nectar.

Meanwhile, his bottom half has been busy, rubbing itself against the mattress in a steady rhythm. Every time Shadow got close, he would cease his movements for a second before continuing. All of his cum was going to go inside you.

Time is at a standstill, staring at the bedroom wall. You concentrate on the assault his mouth is currently conducting. Hands cling onto the sheets for dear life as you try to obey Shadow.

“Ah— ah.. please..” you manage out, nearly breathless. He pauses. Darkened eyes look up, waiting for you to continue with your train of thought. The loss of contact allows cold air to hit your cunt.

“Please, what?” Shadow asks politely as if he wasn’t just nose deep in you, “What is it that you need?”

“I need more.. more friction”

Now towering over you, your legs are nearly pressed to your chest. His hands propped on either side of your head, supporting his weight. Shadow’s cock effortlessly sliding between your labia “Mmnh. You’re going to have to elaborate more than that.”

This fucker. Teasing your entrance. One fell swoop and it’ll go right in. Your pussy clenches nothing at the thought, bringing attention of just how empty you are. “Need more.. more friction, please. I need you inside. Please, Shadow.”

“Your wish is my command, darling.”

You should have known better to think he was going to start fucking you. No surprise that Shadow travels back down, sliding a single digit in. You can feel his smug grin against your sex when you hissed out of disappointment. Another finger is added in, curling against your walls. Shadow’s free hand splays atop your belly.

Oh, how your pussy glistened with your arousal. Sweet nectar drip onto the mattress, creating a lovely pool. It might stain after tonight. Your needy cunt clenches around his fingers. That familiar tension rises back up as Shadow sucks and French kisses your clit. So red, puffy, and sore. He’s absolutely proud of his work.

Before you knew it, praises began to tumble out. Your hand reaches down to grab Shadow’s hand, holding it tight. Legs quiver as his hand picks up the pace. A third finger slides in easily. Stars enter the edge of your vision. The familiar bedroom ceiling now turning into a night sky.

“Love, you’re going to crush my hand,” he laughs. His ministrations continue while he rises up to lay next to you. Both of his legs capturing one of your thighs. “Keep them open for me.”

Arms reach underneath, pulling Shadow into a hug. You beg and plead him, “I’m close— I’m so close. Shadow I’m going to cum. Fuck, let me cum please.” When your nails dig into his back, a pleasureful growl bubbles up from his throat. In efforts to silence it, Shadow’s lips crash into yours. The taste of your slick swirling around.

Your hips erratically buck into his fingers, chasing that high. Like a mirror shattering into a million pieces, you had come undone. Screams of ecstasy reaches the heavens even with your teeth buried into Shadow’s neck. Wet slapping follows suit as he guides you through your climax. “Music to my ears. Ah, you’ve done such a good job,” Shadow whispers into your ear, slowing down his movements but not quite stopping. Tears nearly form from the overstimulation. To let him know, you whimper, “Too much”, into his chest, nuzzling in.

When Shadow pulls out, a pathetic mewl escapes past your lips. Already, you miss the warm feeling in your pussy. He brings up his sodden fingers and licks it clean before lifting your chin up to give you another taste. During this little break Shadow’s giving you, a warm palm caresses your cheek, lightly stroking it.

“You better not be tired, yet. I’m not done with you”

Caged below his body, his cock, seeping with precum rests on the low part of your belly. Even though your body is still recovering, it can’t help but shake in anticipation.

A sticky trail leads down to your entrance. The tip just barely prodding the entrance. Your hips instinctively want squirm, allowing it in. Looks like Shadow noticed as well, because he backed away just out of reach. He wants you bad; however, watching your cute little face twist out of frustration was simply too entertaining.

Here you thought that Shadow would be the impatient one, waiting so long to fuck your brains out. How the hell has he been able to keep it together now that finally got what he needed? Well, Shadow’s mind has been teetering on the edge. Holding it together long enough so you’re also enjoying it too. Not only mindless fucking to reach his objective. You’re not merely a means to an end.

“There’s only two things you need to remember, okay? My name, and that you’re mine.” To emphasize the last two words, Shadow slams his cock in one fell swoop.

Once again his claws sink into the sheets and mattress below, unable to contain his fervor. Because your cunt didn’t have enough time to adjust and accommodate Shadow’s length, it squeezes him tight. The sensation was not unwelcome. Pain and pleasure dancing in a delicate tango.

A long breathy moan is accompanied by his own animalistic growl. He does his best in earnest to stay still, savoring the way your pussy stretched and clenched around his cock. “Fuck you’re so good to me,” he moans, “You don’t know how much I wanted you— needed you.”

Shadow’s hips slowly pull back just to thrust deep into you again. The sudden motion causes you to grip tightly onto forearms. Your head tosses back with a gasp.

It felt like you were made for him. Made for each other. He starts to pump into you. Ass bouncing from the force. Shadow’s gaze never leaves your face. Every little expression you make, he commits to memory. The way you have to keep prying your eyes off of his to keep from being hypnotized, entranced. When you bite the inside of your lip or open your mouth for a silent cry of pleasure. Your eyes squeezing shut and brows knitting together, as you violently turn your head from hitting that right spot.

Not enough. Not enough. Not enough!

Your ear is captured between his lips, nibbling and sucking on it. The sensation tickles. You giggle, finally letting out that breath you’ve been unconsciously holding. Shadow whispers into your ear, “Good.. make sure you’re breathing. I’m going to pull you in closer, okay?”

Your hands are removed from him as he sits up for a moment to adjust. In order to gain better access, you are folded up into a proper mating press. Legs hooked onto the crook of Shadow’s arms. Knees on either side of your head.

The new angle allows him to hit you deeper and with the way your hips are positioned will perfectly hold his cum in. Mercilessly, Shadow pounds into your little hole. Despite his best efforts to redirect his fangs, they continue to land on multiple spots along your collarbone and neck. Bruises and bite marks for everyone to see who you belong to.

With each thrust, his dick kisses your cervix.

It’s a good thing you didn’t live in an apartment, but you were sure the neighbors across the street could hear your screams of euphoria.

You looked so lovely. Heavenly, even. Shadow wonders how he was able to snag an angel like you. Those three little words, Shadow doesn’t say them often enough as he thinks he should. You understand. His actions speak volumes much louder.

At the pace Shadow is going at, he’s not going to last very long. Judging by the way your face is scrunched up and the tension in your nether regions, you’re in the same boat.

“Relax. Cum for me, my love.”

That’s all it took for you to unravel once again. Shadow is pulled in for a tight embrace as you call out his name, telling him how much you love him. Your sweet words melt his heart.

Trembling, quaking, your orgasm rips through your body while Shadow continues to snap his hips, his own climax following close behind. If you weren’t so cock drunk, you’d have heard “I love you” tumble from your partner. Words that come out of your mouth are no longer coherent but rather a giant babbling mess. Your cunt milks every single drop his cock has to offer. His movements slow down.

Shadow’s body isn’t satisfied. Even if he wanted to, his hips won’t stop. Not until he drowns your cervix in hot sticky cum. Filled to the brim until it starts leaking out even with his dick plunged deep in.

“You’re mine. All mine.”

Round one of many.

#ITS DONE #FUCK IT #OTHER WISE IM JUST GOING TO KEEP ADFING MORE DETAILS #I won’t ever be 100 happy with it #but here’s my 2nd official smut I’ve ever written #hope you enjoy whatever I was able to scribble down #shadow the hedgehog x reader #shadow x reader #shadow x reader smut #shadow smut #shadow the hedgehog #you can tell I started losing it near the end LOL

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confessedlyfannish · 10 months ago

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Writing Prompt #12

Bruce is reading the paper when the pour of Tim's coffee goes abruptly quiet. It would be hard to pinpoint why this is disturbing if it wasn't for the way the soft, tinny sound the vent system in the manor makes cuts out for the first time since being updated in the 90s. The pour, Bruce realizes, has not slowed to a trickle before stopping. It has simply stopped. And there is no overeager clack of a the mug against the marble counter or the uncouth first slurp (nor muttered apology at Alfred's scolding look) immediately following the end of the pour.

Bruce fights the instinct to use all of his senses to investigate, and instead keeps his eyes on the byline of the article detailing the latest set of microearthquakes to hit the midwest in the last week. Microearthquakes aren't an unusual occurrence and aren't noticeable by human standards, which is why this article is regulated to page seven, but from several hundred a day worldwide to several hundred a day solely in the East North Central States, seismologists are baffled.

Bruce had been considering sending Superman to investigate under the guise of a Daily Planet article requested by Bruce Wayne (Wayne Industries does have an offshoot factory in the area) when everything had stopped twenty seconds ago. That is what he assumes has happened (having not moved a muscle to confirm) in the amount of time he assumes has passed. His million dollar Rolex does not quite audibly tick but in the absolute silence it should be heard, which confirms the silence to be exactly that—absolute.

While Bruce can hold his breath with the best of the Olympian swimmers, he has never accounted for a need to remain without blinking without being able to move one's eyes. Rotating the eyeballs will maintain lubrication such that one could go without blinking for up to ten minutes. But staring at the byline fixedly, he estimates another twenty seconds before tears start to form.

These are the thoughts Bruce distracts himself with, because he doesn't dare consider how Tim and Alfred haven't made a (living) sound in the past forty-five seconds. About Damian, packing his bag upstairs for school after a morning walk with Titus that was "just pushing it, Master Damian".

There is a knife to his right, if memory serves (it does). In the next five seconds—

"Your wards and guardian are fine, Mr. Wayne," the deepest voice Bruce has ever heard intones. For a dizzying moment, it is hard to pinpoint the location of the voice, for it comes from everywhere—like the chiming of a clocktower whilst inside the tower, so overpowering he is cocooned in its volume.

But it is not spoken loudly, just calmly, and when he puts the paper down, folds it, and looks to his right, a blue man sits in Dick's chair.

He wears a three piece suit made entirely of hues of violet, tie included. He has a black brooch in the shape of a cogwheel pinned to his chest pocket, a simple chain clipped to his lapel. Black leather gloves delicately thumb Bruce's watch (no longer on his wrist, somewhere between second 45 and 46 it has stopped being on his wrist), admiring it.

"You'll forgive me," the man says with surety. "Clocks are rather my thing, and this is an impressive piece." He turns it over and reveals the 'M. Brando' roughly scratched into the silver back. He frowns.

"What a shame," he says, placing it face side up on the table.

"Most would consider that the watch's most valuable characteristic." Bruce says, voice steady, hands neatly folded before him. Two inches from the knife. To his left, there is an open doorway to the kitchen. If he turns his head, he might be able to get a glance of Tim or Alfred.

He doesn't look away from the man.

"It is the arrogance of man," the man says, raising red eyes (sclera and all) to Bruce, "to think they can make their mark on time."

"...Is that supposed to be considered so literally?" Bruce asks, with a light smile he does not mean.

The man smiles lightly back, eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks to be in his mid thirties, clean-shaven. His skin is a dull blue, his hair a shock of white, and a jagged scar runs through one eye and curving down the side of his cheek, an even darker, rawer shade of blue-purple.

The man turns the watch back over and taps at the engraving. "Let me ask you this," he says. "When we deface a work of art, does it become part of the art? Does it add to its intrinsic meaning?"

Bruce forces his shoulders to shrug. "It's arbitrary," he says. "A teenager inscribes his name on the wall of an Ancient Egyptian temple and his parents are forced to publicly apologize. But runic inscriptions are found on the Hagia Sophia that equate to an errant Viking guard having inscribed 'Halfdan was here' and we consider it an artifact of a time in which the Byzantine Empire had established an alliance with the Norse and converted vikings to Christianity."

"The vikings were as errant as the teenager," the man says, "in my experience." He leans back in his chair. "I suppose you could say the difference is time. When time passes, we start to think of things as artistic, or historical. We find the beauty in even the rubble, or at least we find necessity in the destruction..."

He offers Bruce the watch. After a moment, Bruce takes it.

"The problem, Mr. Wayne, is that time does not pass for me. I see it all as it was, as it is, as it ever will be, at all times. There is no refuge from the horror or comfort in that one day..." he closes his hand, the leather squeaking. And then his face smooths out, the brief severity gone. He regards Bruce calmly.

"You can look left, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks left. Framed by the doorway, Tim looks like a photograph caught in time. A stream of coffee escapes the spout of the stainless steel pot he prefers over the Breville in the name of expediency, frozen as it makes its way to the thermos proclaiming BITCH I MIGHTWING. Tim regards his task with a face of mindless concentration, mouth slack, lashes in dark relief against his pale skin as he looks down at the mug. Behind him, Bruce can see Alfred's hand outstretched towards the refrigerator handle, equally and terrifyingly still.

"My name is Clockwork," the man says. "I have other names, ones you undoubtedly know, but this one will be bestowed upon me from the mouth of a child I cherish, and so I favor it above all else. I am the Keeper of Time."

"What do you want from me?" Bruce asks, shedding Wayne for Batman in the time it takes to meet Clockwork's eyes. The man acknowledges the change with a greeting nod.

"In a few days time, you will send Superman to the Midwest to investigate the unusual seismic activity. By then, it will be too late, the activity will be gone. They will have already muzzled him."

"Him."

"There is a boy with the power to rule the realm I come from. Your government has been watching him. The day he turned 18, they took him from his family and hid him away. I want you to retrieve him. I want you to do it today."

"Why me?"

"His parents do not have the resources you do, both as Batman and Bruce Wayne. You will dismantle the organization that is keen on keeping him imprisoned, and you will offer him a scholarship to the local University. You and yours will keep him safe within Gotham until he is able to take his place as my King."

This is a lot of information to take in, even for Bruce. The idea that there could be a boy powerful enough to rule over this (god, his mind whispers) entity and that somehow, he has slipped under all of their radars is as frustrating as it is overwhelming. But although Clockwork has seemed willing to converse, he doesn't know how many more questions he will get.

"You have the power to stop time," he decides on, "why don't you rescue him? Would he not be better suited with you and your people?"

"Within every monarchy, there is a court," Clockwork. "Mine will be unhappy with the choice I have made," he looks at Bruce's watch, head cocked. "In different worlds, they call you the Dark Knight. This will be your chance to serve before a True King."

Bruce bristles. "I bow to no one."

"You'll all serve him, one day," Clockwork says, patiently. "He is the ruler of realms where all souls go, new and old. When you finally take refuge, he will be your sanctuary." He frowns. "But your government rejects the idea of gods. All they know is he is other. Not human. Not meta. A weapon."

"A weapon you want me to bring to my city."

"I believe you call one of your weapons 'Clark', do you not?" Clockwork asks idly. "But you misunderstand me. They seek to weaponize him. He is not restrained for your safety, but for their gain."

"And if I don't take him?" Bruce asks, because a) Clockwork has implied he will be at the very least impeded, at worst destroyed over this, and b) he never did quite learn not to poke the bear. "You won't be around if I decide he's better off with the government."

"You will," Clockwork says, with the same certainty he's wielded this entire conversation. "Not because he is a child, though he is, nor because you are good, though you are, nor even because it is better power be close at hand than afar.

"I have told you my court will be unhappy with me. In truth, there are others who also defend the King. Together we will destroy the access to our world not long after this conversation. The court will be unable to touch him, but neither will we as we face the repercussions for our actions. I am telling you this, because in a timeline where I do not, you think I will be there to protect him. And so when he is in danger, even subconsciously, you choose to save him last, or not at all. And that is the wrong choice.

"So cement it in your head, Bruce Wayne," the man says, "You will go to him because I tell you to. And you will keep him safe until he is ready to return to us. He will find no safety net in me. So you will make the right choice, no matter the cost."

"Or, when our worlds connect again, and they will," his voice now echoes in triplicate with the voices of the many, the young, the old, Tim, Bruce's mother, Barry Allen, Bruce's own voice, "I will not be the only one who comes for you."

"Now," he says, producing a Wayne Industries branded BIC pen. "I will tell you the location the boy is being kept, and then I would like my medallion back, please. In that order."

Bruce glances down and sees a golden talisman, attached to a black ribbon that is draped haphazardly around the neck of his bathrobe, so light (too light, he still should have—) he has not felt its weight until this moment.

Bruce flips the paper over, takes the pen, and jots down the coordinates the being rattles off over the face of a senator. By his calculation, they do correspond with a location in the midwest.

"You will find him on B6. Take a left down the hallway and he will be in the third room down, the one with a reinforced steel door. Take Mr. Kent and Mr. Grayson with you, and when you leave take the staircase at the end of the hallway, not the elevator."

The man gets up, dusts off his impeccably clean pants, and offers him a hand to shake.

"We will not meet again for some time, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks at the creature, stands, and shakes his hand. It feels like nothing. The Keeper of Time sighs, although nothing has been said.

"Ask your question, Mr. Wayne."

"I have more than one."

"You do," Clockwork says. "But I have heard them all, and so they are one. Please ask, or I will not be inclined to answer it."

"What does this boy mean for the future, that you are willing to sacrifice yourself for him?"

There is a pause.

"So that is the one," Clockwork says, after a time. "Yes. I see. I should resolve this, I suppose."

"Resolve what?"

"It is not his future I mean to protect," the man says. "It is his present."

"You want to keep him safe now..." Bruce says, but he's not sure what the being is trying to say.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork repeats, stops. His expression turns solemn, red eyes widening. In their reflection, Bruce can see something. A rush of movement too quick to make heads or tails of, like playing fast forward on a videotape. "Superman reports no signs of unusual seismic activity. With nothing further to look into, you let it go in favor of other investigative pursuits. You do not find him, as you are not meant to. He stays there. His family, his friends, they cannot find him. His captors tell him they have moved on. He does not believe them, until he does. He stays there. He stays there until he is strong enough to save himself."

Clockwork speaks stiffly, rattling off the chain of events as if reading a Justice League debrief. "He is King. He will always be King. He is strong, and good, and compassionate, and he is great for my people because yours have betrayed his trust beyond repair. He throws himself into being the best to ever Be, because there is nothing Left for him otherwise. We love him. We love him. We love him. My King. Forevermore."

The red film in his eyes stall out, and Bruce is forced to look away from how bright the image is, barely making out a silhouette before they dull back to their regular red.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork says slowly, "To this future."

"Because of what it means in the present," Bruce finishes for him. "They're not just imprisoning him, are they."

"They will have already muzzled him."

Clockworks is right in front of him faster than he can process, fist gripping the medallion at his neck so tight he now feels the ribbon digging into his skin.

"Unlike you, Mr. Wayne," and for the first time, the god is angry, and the image of it will haunt Bruce for the rest of his life, "I do not believe in building a better future on the back of a broken child."

"Find him," the deity orders, and yanks the necklace so hard the ribbon rips—

Clack!

"sluuuuurp!"

"Master Timothy, honestly!"

"Sorry Alfred!"

#i feel like I'm going to reread this and want to add other stuff #but I also just want to post it and get it out there #fun fact i scribbled a bunch of lines down at 2am bc i didn't want to forget them #im bad at multiple drafts #my writing #dp x dc #dp x dc au #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom #batman #i live to make everybody dramatic #but also i subscribe to a world where clockwork doesn't know how NOT to be dramatic #lol he's a ghost from all of time he doesn't know how to speak to humans and tailor it to the century let alone the decade #and his favorite little girl who calls him clocky loves how he speaks so #he doesn't need to change for nobody #nor feels inclined to #also I feel like as god he's way more inclined to threaten to get what he wants than like...be vulnerable #jazz: let's unpack that #clockwork: we never do #jazz: are you saying that because it's true or because that's what you want to be true?#clockwork: ...#also I cannot take credit for BITCH I MIGHTWING #wish i could #that is cash money right there #shoutout to 11thsense

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