#this actually started with someone other than alfred but i thought it fit him better so i changed it. at least i hope it fits him?

[mangofresca]

luminary

He isn’t sure where it comes from, but it’s an urge that rises suddenly, all-consumingly, with no hunger or warning to prelude it, like a countdown placed upon his life only seen as it hits zero—a flash of red, and suddenly every second ticking by is another second too late, another moment lost.

Lovino is smiling so brightly that the simmering heat of Agrigento’s summer seems more akin to the frigid winds of winter. He’s laughing—not a snort, not the contrite brush aside or sardonic smirk he gets when he thinks he’s being clever—head thrown back and shoulders shaking with mirth.

Alfred forgets how to speak, how to think or move or breathe, forgets everything except how to stare—gawk, his brain helpfully supplies, very obviously—regarding Lovino as if he was the one to paint the stars across the sky, to sprinkle indigo and amethyst across the midnight horizon, to use hardened hands to cradle the sun and bring lighted warmth to the world. As if he was something beautiful, ethereal, untouchable.

Except, he’s not; he’s not untouchable in the way Alfred previously perceived him to be, distanced by water and antiquity and a complex Lovino tends to wear like his own form of bastardized battle armor. He is there, right there, laughing, and Alfred wants to reach out a hand and–

And.

He’s touching Lovino’s face before he’s even thought the action through, before he’s even realized he’s done it, cupping his hand around the swell of a cheek and feeling the heat of it still flushed with laughter and wondrously-worn glee. He feels the expression under his palm calm as that smile fades, replaced instead with slowly-dawning confusion, soft in its perplexity, and he traces his thumb across the dip of Lovino’s under-eye, if only to savor the way those dark eyelashes flutter.

“Alfred?” Lovino asks, painfully sincere, with a tone that melds between a question and vague, befuddled acknowledgement. His eyes are wide. He does not move away.

“Would it be cool if I kissed you right now?” It’s a reply in the technical sense, an answer to a question that had seemingly been hanging in the air for longer than he realized. His own voice is startlingly soft considering the pressing urgency he feels tugging at his gut, his hands, his tongue, like if he can’t have this nownownow he’ll die, starved, stripped of life before he’d even realized he was bleeding.

Lovino gapes at him, blinking slowly. The cheek beneath Alfred’s palm burns warm, and he almost expected Lovino to blush, to feel skin stain itself scarlet beneath the pads of his fingers. He wonders if he should ask why it doesn’t.

There’s a moment where hazel eyes flick from his down to his lips before rising again, and Lovino makes a noise in the back of his throat like a hum, a huh, like he’s realized something about himself and the world and the universe. Like the knowledge of whatever it is has only just settled, and now he must contend with life now that he has it.

He blinks at Alfred again. “Yeah.”

He says it like it’s easy, like it’s always been easy, like permission would have always been granted had Alfred ever had the wherewithal to ask. Alfred files that away for later, wondering, not for the first time, if he missed something in the tones of Lovino’s voice, if something else existed in the recesses of cutting words and huffed musings and trite insults that were never really all that insulting to begin with. But that’s for another time, or maybe never, because Alfred never really cared to indulge in worries and preclusions, and Lovino is too good to be wasted on half-baked ruminations when the now was so much better.

Lovino says it like it’s easy, and when Alfred ducks his head down and leans in, it certainly feels easy, easier than maybe he expected. It feels like old nights spent tucked beneath the dim lights of New York speakeasies, of hushed conversations held in the stacks of his library, like something big and bright and cosmic had settled off somewhere far away, a revelation exploding in the periphery of his universe, vast and grand in its own private corner.

Lovino’s hand settles boldly on his shoulder, fingers brushing the hairline at the back of his neck, and Alfred can feel every inch of it burn through his clothes. Lovino tastes like vintage wine and the cigarette he had been smoking not ten minutes ago, and even though Alfred hates the smell, he thinks he can learn to like the taste if it’s been tempered by sweet reds and the natural soft of Lovino’s tongue brushing past his lips. Alfred feels Lovino’s cheek move beneath his palm, and he doesn’t quite get why until he realizes that Lovino is smiling, pulling away enough that they look like two kids grinning into each other’s mouths, lost and dumb and found.

“Been wanting to do that for a while?” Lovino sounds smug, but his eyes are bright, sparkly, pretty, his hand fisting the back of Alfred’s shirt.

For a moment, Alfred thinks, if you count eighty seconds ago a while, sure, but that doesn’t seem right, isn’t right, and Alfred can feel certain pieces of their histories click into place—not any sort of life-altering change, but instead something soft, the clink of a plate placed in front of him on the nights when he wouldn’t bother with sleep, the fresh scent of pasta and garlic bread the only thing to bring him back into his own body, the reminder that he existed within the scope of four walls, the person as well as the land.

Lovino is so close, close enough for Alfred to feel the tickle of his bangs against his forehead, and suddenly every word and every gaze and every laugh pulled from scowling lips all align and glimmer like radiant galaxies, all with Lovino at the center.

“Nah,” he says, grinning at the eye roll. “Just thought of it now.” But that doesn’t stop him from doing it again.

[gilbirda]

Friendly neighborhood vigilante. Chapter 25

BatmanxDP crossover. JasonxJazz

[Read on AO3] [Read on FF.net]

Based on this post

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---

“So you are saying that the Infinite Realms’ government is organized like a dungeons and dragons party?”

Danny snorted and patted Tim’s shoulder. “Jazz’s idea, actually.”

From where she was quietly talking with Bruce, Jazz huffed. “I never said it was a dungeons and dragons party. I only suggested the organization that fit our strengths better.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Danny made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “Potato, potahto.”

Jazz rolled her eyes, but went back to her discussion.

The group was walking towards the gardens, where a light lunch was served. Time went by as the Waynes asked anything and everything about the Realms and their rulers, now that there were no more secrets between them. They talked about Sam and Tucker and Valerie and even about Danielle, her origins and how she joined the team included.

The Fenton siblings enjoyed oversharing in a way that felt weird to the vigilantes, so used to hiding and concealing their thoughts all the time. Now that they were more comfortable, Danny and Jazz didn’t hesitate to act more inhuman around them, with the younger sibling floating when he got excited as if it was the more normal reaction.

It reminded Bruce of his colleagues in the Watchtower break room goofing around and using their powers for the stupidest reasons.

When Tim rejoined them, this time alone, he was more annoyed about losing the bet than missing the ghost royalty status reveal. Danny thought that was the funniest thing, and gladly started a new stream of oversharing information about Jazz’s princess status and all the titles she held, ignoring his sister’s attempts at silencing him.

They didn’t even notice lunch time approaching until Alfred reminded everyone in the house that they had to eat — yes, even their inhuman guests. The last part was added with a pointed glare and a short nod before the man walked away.

So now they were making their way to lunch, which was served outside given the nice weather despite being way into fall, chatting about Team Phantom and their roles in detail.

“So Sam is like the Barbarian of the team?” Tim pressed on. “And Tucker is the Artificer.”

Jazz huffed again.

“We are not—”

“Actually, is not that far from the truth,” Danny chuckled, “but not exactly just that. All of us are at least trained in one main duty and act as a backup for someone else. That guarantees that if one of us has to leave, nothing will be left unattended.”

“Like with Jazz being here.”

He nodded. “Jazz helped Tucker with all the record keeping and research in magical theory, as well as diplomacy and ghost law studies. Valerie helped Jazz with her main duties, and so on and so forth.”

“Magical theory?” Jason asked, one eyebrow arched. “Ghost law?”

“Sounds cool but it's actually just reading a bunch of books and trying to guess what they say.” Danny grumbled, rubbing his face. “I swear there is nothing that can make me pass out faster than reading those fuckers.”

“That’s because you don’t do your homework. Dorathea is a very good teacher.” Jazz chimed with a mocking smile.

Duke interrupted when Danny jumped to answer. “You said that the books weren’t Jazz’s main duty, so what is it?”

The young woman tensed for a second before putting on a gentle smile. It didn’t fool anybody, though. “I am—”

“Jazz.”

She turned towards her brother. “What?”

“Jazz, look.”

She frowned at his serious tone, the boyish glee gone completely, but turned to look at what he was pointing at.

It was a giant painting on the other wall of the room they just passed by, which was featuring a small family — a woman, a man and a child. All three were wearing nice clothes, serene smiles for the portrait.

“What’s the matter?” Bruce stepped closer to see what they were seeing, tensing when he realized what it was. “Why are you pointing at my parents’ portrait?”

The siblings looked at each other. “That’s your mother?” Jazz finally asked.

The look Bruce gave her was equal parts worried and calculating. “Indeed.”

Again Danny and Jazz talked to each other with facial gestures and looks.

“It can’t be.” Danny murmured. “Can it?”

“I don’t know.” She answered.

“Hey.” Jason grabbed Jazz’s shoulder. “What’s up?”

She glanced at her brother, frowning. She licked her lips and drew a long breath. “That’s Lady Gotham.”

One second passed by. Two seconds.

“No, that’s my mother.”

Dick giggled at the absurdity of the situation.

“Could she be wearing someone’s face?” Jazz ignored Bruce’s quiet breakdown to talk to her brother. “Or is it like ‘the Spirit passes down ownership’ kind of situation?”

Danny hummed. “I don’t think it is the second case,” he crossed his arms, “she felt like an Ancient and this woman couldn’t have been dead that long.”

“Are you saying that an ancient spirit is wearing my mother’s face?” The older man said, voice small. Even Jason frowned at the weakness in his tone.

Jazz seemed to snap back to reality and noticed that the conversation may not be the best given current company. She sighed. “We don’t know. Maybe. Was your mother special in any way for this city?”

“Are you kidding? Haven’t you heard about the Martha Wayne foundation? Or all the charity stuff in her name?” Tim scoffed. “Do you live under a rock?”

Jazz blushed. “I’m sorry.” She shrugged. “I don’t pay that much attention to current events outside my work and Crime Alley.”

Jason pretended to try to hide his smile in Jazz’s hair as he pulled her for a side hug.

Danny made a face at the pair, shook his head and turned towards Bruce. “We can’t be a hundred percent sure, but it’s not unheard of for an ancient Spirit to change their appearance. It’s usually to fit in as time passes; but taking the face of a real person from their hunt?” He tilted his head, and Jason noticed the similarity with his sister. It was adorable. “That’s a new one for me.”

“We can always ask?” Jazz tried to move past her misstep.

“Do you really think she’d want to talk about that?”

“Maybe. If we ask nicely.” Neither sibling actually believed these words.

Bruce blinked slowly and started walking again, lost in thought. The rest followed as if nothing even happened.

“Is she really that scary?” Duke asked.

“She is…,” Danny started, rubbing the back of his neck, “she is surely something else. This city is cursed, man; so it doesn’t surprise me that the Spirit overseeing this place is just as cursed.”

“What Danny is trying to say,” Jazz jumped in, “is that the Spirit of Gotham has been deeply corrupted and, well, she’s definitely in pain, and sometimes she lashes out.”

“That’s a nice way to put it,” her brother scoffed, shaking his head and not looking at anybody. “I don't know what nice and watered down version of the story Jazzy here told you guys but when we first came here, she was pissed. King or no King, she was ready to kill me.”

Jazz blushed again. “I don’t—”

“Yes, you do.” Danny rolled his eyes.

She looked like she had something to say, but chose to close her mouth and ignore the chuckles.

They finally arrived at the nice backyard patio where a table was already set up for lunch. Alfred walked around the table with his cart, setting down the plates and giving the finishing touches to the display.

Nobody missed his little smile watching them naturally divide in groups and sit down together, his eyes lingering on Jason refusing to let go of his girlfriend’s hand even under said girlfriend’s brother's snarky comments about it.

It had been a while since the Manor was filled with noise like this. It felt… alive. Like how it was supposed to be.

The old man quietly grabbed his cart and went back inside to plate the second course for the meal. He didn’t glance at the moving shadows and the trickster reflections on the corner of his eyes — after so many decades serving at this Manor, this family, he got used to not being exactly alone inside those walls.

***

“I don’t know how you are going to break it to Frighty.”

Jazz froze mid bite, frowning as she swallowed the food. “What do you mean?”

Bruce raised his eyebrows at Danny’s shocked expression. The young man looked around the table, maybe looking for support or an explanation, but he probably forgot they just met that morning.

“Are you serious?”

“What?”

“You really don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“Jazz, Fright Knight has been courting you for around a year.”

Tim froze, glancing up to see Jason’s reaction. Expecting loud shouting to start, he was even more shocked when Jason leaned back on his seat and crossed his arms with a giant smirk on his face and a raised eyebrow.

“I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about.” Jazz leaned in, glaring at her brother on the other side of the table.

“Hold on a second,” Dick pushed his empty plate aside to lean closer to Danny, “Fright Knight? The King’s right hand man? The Aspect of Fear?”

“That’s the one!”

“I don’t—” Jazz blinked, “I don’t know— How? When?”

“Uhhhh, since the first siege, I believe?” Danny's smile went from one ear to the other. “He said, and I quote, ‘I had never felt such things in battle before. Lady Jasmine’s war cries pierced my chest deeper than her lance pierced our enemies’.”

Tim shuddered. It was the way Danny impersonated this Fright Knight’s sickening dreamy voice.

“The first siege? That was more than two years ago!”

“And you haven’t noticed this guy being in love with you?” Jason spoke for the first time, grinning at his girlfriend.

“I don’t know?” Jazz threw her hands up. “I thought he was being nice!”

“For a whole year?”

“He’s been giving you courting gifts, Jazz!” Danny said, incredulous. “And you accepted them!”

“So those were courting gifts?”

“What were those gifts?”

“Swords.” Danny answered Jason. “Shiny blades. Ornamental and functional. Jazz has a collection back in the Realms.” He turned towards his sister. “Which, by the way, people keep sending gifts for you. I think they think that you are the ‘reasonable’ one of us and if they send you more swords you’d be more merciful.”

“I don’t need more swords.”

“You liar. You love swords.”

Jazz blushed, unable to say otherwise. “Still nothing he did told me he was interested.”

“Ancients, Jazz,” Danny pinched the bridge of his nose. “Everyone knew he was head over heels for you. We thought you were preferring to deal with it in private.”

Her blush became worse. She kept her gaze fixed on her hands fidgeting with her napkin. “You know I don’t do all the romance stuff.”

Incredulous, Danny just pointed at Jason. “And how do you explain him?”

“It’s…” she licked her lips, “different. Unexpected. We just— we clicked.”

“Awww.”

Danny made a face and rolled his eyes, ignoring Dick and Cass’ cooing.

“Well. I’m not going to be the one dealing with all that. Frighty is all yours.”

Jazz sighed. “I’ll talk to him when I go back to the Realms.”

“Hm.” Danny hummed, suddenly lost in thought as he sipped his water. “Maybe you don’t have to.”

“What?”

“I said: Maybe you don’t have to.” He spoke louder. “Come back, I mean.”

She did a double take. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Danny took a second longer than what was expected. “You can stay here.” He leaned back on his seat, putting as much distance as he could from his sister. He was also evading her eyes. “Permanently.”

There was only the sounds of the birds chirping in the nearby trees and the wind flowing between the leaves for a few seconds.

“Are you—” Jazz’s voice was careful, low, “Are you firing me?”

Half the table was looking at Danny and the other half had their eyes glued on Jazz’s face. Her rage, while quiet, was familiar to those witnessing the moment — betrayals, infightings and disbelief ran though their minds as they remembered similar situations in their pasts.

“Jazz—”

“After everything you just— What the hell Danny?”

“I’m not— Could you at least look at me?” She did, and everyone could see her watery eyes. “It’s for your own good.”

That was the wrong thing to say.

Jazz’s expression turned murderous as the tears escaped her eyes. She stood up, teeth grinding, breathing deeply a few times before she opened her mouth.

“You don’t mean that.” She crossed her arms.

Danny looked like he wished he was anywhere else but in that room at that moment. “Bad choice of words. I don’t mean that.” He slowly repeated.

“Good.” Her shoulders relaxed a bit, but she was still mad.

“What I wanted to say is…” He sighed and lifted his hands in defeat. “I’m sorry. I’m not good at— You know I always mess these things up— Okay, okay I’ll get to the point.” He quickly added under Jazz’s narrowing eyes. He breathed in, breathed out. “I want you to stay here. In the living world. As long as you want.”

She processed his words, and slowly sat back down. The sounds of nature around them picked up like nothing happened, even if no one had noticed their rather unnatural silence.

“But you said…”

“I know. But things have changed, Jazz. I want you to stay. How could I not be okay with that?”

“But— But my role— And the Archives, and Walker, and—”

“Everything can wait. Or, I don’t know, we’ll deal with it.” He leaned in and took one of her hands in his. “We told you to come here because you really needed a vacation, and I stand by it. The Keep can wait for you. I can wait for you.”

“But—”

“Jasmine Fenton. You have given up everything for me. You were not meant for any of this ghost bullshit or war or fist fighting gods in a Denny’s parking lot. But you gave me a decade of that, and I appreciate it, but that’s enough. You can rest now, you can have nice things. You deserve it.”

Nobody missed when Danny gave Jason, and quick look around the people on the table, when he mentioned the “nice things” she could have.

Jazz opened her mouth only to close it again, more tears coming to her eyes. Her cheeks tinted red, maybe from embarrassment, maybe for remnants of her anger.

She yanked her hand from her brother’s and rushed to her feet, taking a shaky breath.

“Excuse me.”

Jason frowned, watching her go back inside the house and probably looking for a place to calm down.

He felt a kick on one leg.

“Go.” Danny interlaced his hands on the table and nodded in his sister’s general direction. “She needs you.”

Jason’s frown deepened, but he obliged without saying a word.

Bruce cleared his throat, suddenly feeling very self conscious under Danny’s stare. The young man didn’t look affected by what just happened like his sister was, but his eyes betrayed the conflicted emotions he hid behind his mask.

“I’m sorry you guys had to witness that. I should have waited until we got home. My bad.” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, but it felt like forced nonchalance.

“That was sure something.” Dick commented after clearing his throat.

“I apologize but I need to ask,” Bruce leaned in. “Jasmine seemed pretty adamant her time here was limited, that she would sooner or later have to leave everything here. What changed?”

“Did she tell you that?” Danny made an incredulous face and scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t even need to ask. I don’t know why I keep being surprised by her antics.”

“So it’s not true?”

What else had she been lying about? A tiny voice said in the back of Bruce’s head. He tried to ignore it, but given the drastic differences between Danny’s and Jazz’s behavior, he was wondering what was the actual picture and what was the siblings’ casual omission of truth.

“It was true, but only because she herself sets those limits. Jazz is…,” he sighed, deflating on his seat, looking at the sky, “I love my sister, and a lot, but she takes everything too seriously.”

Or you don’t take things seriously enough, Bruce thought, but chose not to say it.

“I never said she had a time limit, or that she had to turn her back on the living world for the rest of her life. We sent her ass to the Arkham internship because she doesn’t know how to take a break.”

“Arkham is a break?” Tim asked what had been lingering in everyone’s heads. The siblings kept referring to working at the worst psychiatric criminal facility, a vacation and a break.

Danny scoffed again, turning his eyes towards the young man. His smile wasn’t kind. “You guys haven’t put it together? The kind of role Jazz has in the Realm. The kind of person she… The kind of person I asked her to become.”

There was deep guilt in his voice, and in the way he couldn’t hold his gaze. Danny fidgeted with his napkin, letting the birds sing the tension of his silence away. They were waiting on him to elaborate, and he knew that, but was building the courage to speak.

“Do you guys know how powerful I am? No, you don’t,” he answered himself with a shrug, “because there’s no one like me. I could— If I wanted to, I could bring this city, the whole city, into the Infinite Realms. Just like that.

If I wanted to I could end the war with a snap of my fingers. I could Order every ghost-adjacent being to follow my every command and bring peace via total domination. Or,” he stopped his fingers, sighing, “I could just rip their cores with a thought and crush them with another and be done with Vlad and with every stubborn ghost that thinks I don’t deserve to be King.”

He finally glanced up at Bruce, as if he knew all these scenarios passed though the man’s head as he spoke. “Imagine that — Every conflict, every war, I could wish it away in seconds.”

The older man nodded, following his speech. “And yet you are here.”

Danny’s vulnerable smile reminded him so much of Clark’s. “I can’t. I can’t do that. If I— If I just eliminate every little thing in my way, what kind of person would I be? I’ve seen it happen, Bruce. I know what I could be if I lose perspective of who I really want to be.”

Cass lifted her hand like she was in a classroom. “Jazz. She’s your anchor.”

Danny went back to looking at his hands, shoulders sagging. In shame? In defeat? “All of them keep me grounded, even when I feel like I’m drifting away from who I used to be. But Jazz? She knows what needs to be done, what I’m scared to do. She knows she can handle the guilt and the nightmares and the horror.”

He took a long breath to calm himself. “Jazz is what I can’t— what I won’t be, and she took that burden like it was nothing. She has always done that, taking the bad things and dealing with them for me. It’s just… This time, the ‘bad things’ are a little bit more permanent.”

It made sense now. How she avoided talking about it, how Jazz tensed when she was asked what her role was. How she was so comfortable at Arkham.

“She’s your Executioner.”

Danny flinched at Bruce’s words. “She’s that and more. She became a counterpart for me, a shadow, so I could shine in the spotlight. A symbol.” He said the word like it was a curse. Bruce didn’t miss the twitch in his eyebrow. “Do you know why her armor is bright red?” His smile wasn’t kind when he looked up. “The Infinite Realms are green. She stands out and attracts all the attention in battle so the rest of us can be the heroes of the hour.” He chuckled. “She never wanted any of this. She didn’t defeat the previous King, she wasn’t even there. I know my childhood could have been way worse if she wasn’t in my life, and I’m grateful, but I kept asking more and more from her and now—”

“Do you really think I didn’t want this?” Jazz’s voice cut through Danny’s rambles. “I chose to stay, Danny.”

He didn’t react when he saw her walk in, her face puffy and her eyes still wet. Did he know she was listening? Of course he did — from what the vigilantes could gather so far, Danny’s abilities were up there with Superman’s. Maybe even more.

“Don’t.” He frowned. “I can see right through your bullshit, Jazz. There wasn’t that much of a choice and you know it.”

She bit her lips, but didn’t deny it. Instead, she pulled on her joined hands with Jason’s so they approached the table and sat down.

After settling in her seat, she breathed in, breathed out and smiled. “You are making me sound like some kind of demon or something.” Nobody bought the lightness of her tone.

Danny caught her deflection and chose to follow. He scoffed. “And you are not?” He made a gesture with his hands, placing them on the sides of his head with his pointer fingers up, imitating his sister’s headpiece.

She rolled her eyes. “I am not—”

“Jazzy, fear incarnate is in love with you. He let you ride his horse!” He smirked at Jason. “Not an euphemism.”

He caught on what the siblings were trying to do and turned towards his girlfriend. “You never told me about any horse, darling.”

“Nightmare was a strategic move. Frighty knows I can’t fly like the rest of you and it could give me an advantage during battle.”

“Nightmare? Seriously?” Jason asked.

“Big black horse with wings.” She quickly explained with a shrug. “Breathes fire.”

“Are you serious? Fright Knight doesn’t let me even touch his horse and I’m the King!” He threw his hands up in the air. “That being said, he doesn’t challenge me as much as he does with you, and thanks the Ancients for that.”

“Wait. Wait a second. Are you saying—”

Danny’s smile grew like a Cheshire Cat’s. “Ooohhhh. You didn’t know? Did you forget the one basic fact about ghost nature, Jazzy-pants? Ghost’s love language is fighting.” He said the last part imitating her voice, like she was giving a lecture of some kind.

“Oh? Tell me more?” Jason leaned towards Danny, head leaning on one hand, completely enraptured by the information his girlfriend’s brother shared so easily.

“And he wasn’t pulling any punches either. Before I learned he was formally courting her, I wasn’t sure if he wanted to fight her to death or marry her!”

“He could do both if he’s not a coward.” Jason shared the smile with Danny, ignoring Jazz’s hands pushing his shoulder away from her.

“Hey!” Jazz protested, but there was a small smile on her lips. “Don’t encourage him!”

“Wait until I tell you about The Ballad of the Red Demon.” Danny also ignored his sister, and the eyes of the rest of the Waynes, as he summoned a notebook with more green flames. He cleared his throat, opened the notebook and started reading:

“The fire in her eyes burned brighter than any sun, as the sharp edge of her blade pierced your chest to meet your untimely end.

Don’t provoke the Red Demon, for her burning fury will consume you in a blaze hotter than the Realm’s Core.

There she rides the winged Dark Horse as her cries call for the blood of her enemies, bright green eyes already searching for the next target.

Don’t provoke the Red Demon, for her siren’s call will be the last thing you hear before you draw your last breath.”

“What in the Ancients is that?” Realization came to the young woman. She slapped the table and stood up. “Ghost Writer?”

Danny nodded. “He gave me the first draft to approve before getting into editing.” He shook the notebook closer to his sister. “There’s a chapter for each of us, don’t think it’s just about you.”

He rolled his eyes and reopened the notebook, getting ready to continue reading, but Jazz jumped and reached across the table trying to snatch the notebook before he continued. He managed to float away just in time to prevent her from taking it from him, and quickly flew high enough that she couldn’t reach him, but close enough that he was almost within reach.

“Awww, you don’t want our new friends to know about your feats during the last siege? About—” he glanced at the text, quickly murmuring words under his breath, “‘Her fiery hair glows like a damned halo’ and ‘sharp blade like a gentle kiss of death’ something something ‘crushing enemies under her foot’.”

Jazz was trying to jump high enough so she could catch her brother, her face crimson red as the others chuckled at the scene.

Finally, taking pity on her, Jason reached for the book as Danny was distracted reading the next stanza and seized it away from the floating Fenton.

“Thank you.” She breathed in relief, extending her hand so he could give her the notebook.

With a tiny smile, he opened it and tried to read too, but it was written in symbols he felt he recognized but couldn’t read.

“Do you have an official translation yet or do I have to wait?”

---

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[velvet-wishes-candy-dreams]

Hi! Can I ask for some headcanons about how would America react to getting a love letter from his crush?

And what a time for me to finally answer this ask! Ah, well, better late then never, I suppose! To anyone who's made an ask for me dated back in 2022, you are all entitled to financial compensation,,,, </3 No matter! The Bear is back in the kitchen, and they're ready to cook!! Hopefully this is up to what you in 2022 was hoping for! Warnings: None, Use Of They/Them (Just In Case!) and You/Your/Yours/Etc. Gender: Gender Neutral

America

If there's anything that should be well known about Alfred when it comes to the other countries, it's a simple as this; He's nothing short of an attention-whore.

It's no wonder, though, as he's considered to be super well known; albeit being one of the most annoying in the bunch.

So, it's not the biggest shock to him to have people who want to be around him or get to know him more, some more than none being romantic.

However, no one knows that the American would always turn down and reject the affection of those that try to woo him over. It's not like he hates it or enjoys seeing people try their best to win his heart, but they're all fighting for something that isn't there, for his heart already belongs to someone else.

And that someone was you.

It started off as a simple admiration, you treated Alfred as a normal person. You wouldn't bash and berate his childish behavior, and you also weren't someone who'd swoon and fall for his charms. You'd let him yap your ear off and let him boast about himself, waving it off and nodding in agreement as you always did.

Then, that's when the sparks would hit him. The way he'd feel his heart race when he'd finally see you, the way that he'd always feel his stomachs doing flips when he'd think about how he was going to see you somewhere, how he'd find himself rambling to anyone who'd listen about not himself, but you...The puzzles were starting to fit together, but he still wasn't able to understand that he was actually in love.

As he'd sit at his desk, checking out what had to be done and all the junk that had to be fixed, he'd always find himself getting distracted and looking through the giant pile of fan mail. They were all mostly letters, praises and questions for Alfred to ponder and think about or even start drafting a response before forgetting about it soon later, but the most that came in were love letters.

Of course, it'd be desperate people, people who profess their love and thinking that they can just confess and live the life of their dreams with the American. It was all just parasocial relationships that would never come true! An exasperated grin came on his face as he sighed. Yup...Nothing was new. For once, all that he wanted was to not have to see random nobodies names at the end of their letters. It wasn't fair. He'd hope and pray that maybe somehow, someway, people would get a clue and stop with all the cheesy letters. As Alfred flipped through the letters, skimming pass every name, he grew more and more frustrated. All he wanted was finally see a name that was not someone else's, but- The sound of papers rustling stopped suddenly, the blondes mouth agape as his eyes darted over a name. A name so familiar, it caused his heart to race, as if he caught sight of them in public. Their name. His hands shook as he felt warmth start to rush to his face. All this time, he thought that they'd just be a happy thought to him, nothing more than just an angel that'd never see him the way he saw them. And yet here he is, reading from top to bottom their heartfelt love letter they'd written for him. And the more he read, the more his eyes opened to what he'd fail to notice as his own emotions kept him from realizing it. The way their face would grow warm when he'd lightly tease them, they way they'd admire him from afar, how they'd sneak glances to him while he'd walk by, not knowing that he had just been looking at them to begin with. Alfred's heart swelled, overwhelmed with joy as he knew they'd finally notice him, not aware of the fact that he felt the same way towards them. That night, there was a pep in his step as he skipped home, clutching the letter close to his heart as he did so, protected under his bomber jacket to keep it safe from the beginning drops of the warm, summer rain. Once in side, he made quick to his room, sliding the note from his chest out as he examined it again. Seeing again, for the hundredth time, they signed it with love, the American fell onto his bed, squealing and giggling like a little girl as he felt more giddy and excited. He sat up, punching his pillows as he whisper-screamed a boisterous 'YES!! YES!! YES!!' to himself, boxing their air before falling back down again. His glasses had flown off, and his blonde hair was all mushed from his excitement, but he didn't care. A satisfied sigh came to his lips as he rolled over to his side, nibbling on his bottom lip. He could feel his cheeks burning, whether it was from the blush or from holding his smile for so long, but it didn't matter. His feelings for them were the same as theirs towards him, and that's all he needed. Alfred's eyes shut as he hummed, the letter resting just above his head as he started thinking, planning everything in his head.

Yeah...Tomorrow would be the day...He'll totally confess to them in a super awesome, badass way. He's America, damnit! He's always so extravagant with everything. But it had to be super romantic too. There's no way that he could blow it. After all, they love him. They really, really love him. And Alfred just couldn't wait to show them just how much he loves them too...

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Phantom Grin

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: Bruce Wayne visits his son's grave on the night of his resurrection. Will it change Jason's fate, or is it all simply inevitable?

Chapters: 9/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Alfred Pennyworth, Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake, Cassandra Cain

Relationship(s): Jason Todd/Original Character

Additional Tags: Canon Divergent AU, Jason Todd Has Chronic Pain, Jason Todd is Disabled, Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Resurrected Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne Get Along

Chapter Nine: Sister

Jason felt a weight next to him on his bed, and he chewed his lip. He felt another weight by his feet and then a final weight on his other side. Jason took in a shaky breath. He didn't want to cry, but he couldn't help it. Jason couldn't get out of bed. He lay still with his eyes closed as he waited for someone to speak.

The pain traveled up Jason's spine and his shoulder blades. He lay on his stomach, hoping that someone would say something. "We kind of promised you a movie night, didn't we?" Tim whispered. Jason could hear that Tim was the weight on the foot of the bed.

"It's okay," Jason mumbled. He didn't want them to know he was crying.

Cassandra moved his blankets out of the way so she could see his face. "We don't have to watch a movie," Cassandra whispered, "Unless you're just mad at me for beating you up yesterday."

Jason let out an uneasy laugh before covering his face. "It's just us, right?" Jason asked. Everyone in the room made a soft affirmative noise. "Then what are we waiting for?"

He pushed over onto his back and took a deep breath through his nose. Everyone was wearing pajamas, and he didn't have the heart to tell them to go away. In fact, he wanted them to stay. It took him a moment to adjust to the pain, but he relaxed once the movie started. "This movie blows," Tim mumbled.

"You picked it," Dick replied. Jason's eyes drooped, and he eventually drifted off to sleep. Dick looked over at Jason and moved to get up, and Jason rolled onto his side and threw his arm over Dick. Cassandra giggled quietly, and Tim turned around and laughed. "Shut up."

After the movie ended, they all fell asleep in Jason's bed, and Bruce came home and draped another blanket over them. Alfred shushed Bruce and gestured for him to come out into the hall. "What's wrong?" Bruce asked

"Have you spoken with Master Jason at all today?" Alfred asked. Bruce thought carefully before shaking his head. "Perhaps you should stay home with him tomorrow afternoon."

"Why? What happened?" Bruce asked.

"Nothing happened... That's what worries me," Alfred whispered, "He hasn't moved an inch all day."

Bruce held his breath for a moment. He nodded, and Alfred left him alone in the hallway. He sat awake until sunrise, only to be greeted by Jason's footsteps in the half-lit manor. The stairs creaked under Jason's feet, and Bruce opened his door. Their eyes met, and Bruce furrowed his brows. "Where are you going?" Bruce asked. Jason flashed an uncomfortable smile.

"Hi... Dad," Jason greeted him in a higher pitch than Bruce was used to. He pulled at the drawstrings of his hood. "I can explain."

"Oh no, I'm not really here to interrogate you... Well, I am, but I was actually gonna ask you about yesterday," Bruce replied. Jason stood just above eye level, but he shrank at the idea of being confronted.

"I didn't do anything yesterday," Jason replied, "I swear."

"Yeah, I know... Are you—? Is everything okay?" Bruce asked. Jason nodded. A lie. "Jason."

"I didn't feel well yesterday, but I feel better today... Between you and me, is it okay if I go out and explain when I come back?" Jason asked. Bruce looked Jason over. He opened his mouth to ask a question, and Jason pulled a yawara out of his pocket. The wooden stick perfectly fit in the palm of Jason's hand. "I'm okay."

Bruce wanted to say no, but he knew better than to tell Jason no. "I'll be home all day, so if you need me—." Jason reached into his other pocket and pulled out his cellphone. "Right... I just—. I love you, okay?" Jason offered a sympathetic smile and pat Bruce on the shoulder.

"I love you too, and I'll be back after lunch. Tell Alfred I love him too, okay?" Jason requested as he walked out the front door. Jason took the car and drove out towards the East End. He parked and walked a few blocks down to a church, and he stood around out front trying to build up the courage to step inside.

"Hello?" asked a nun. Jason tensed up as he looked her in the eyes. She looked young, maybe a little older than he was, and she looked up at him with a sort of certainty in her little dark eyes. He averted his eyes so as not to dwell on the beauty of her features. "Would you like to come in?"

"I'd-. I don't know... I've only been once or twice maybe, but that was so—. I'm sorry, you're probably busy," Jason whispered, "Sister—. Um—."

"Sister Irene, and—. Actually, I am a bit busy now... But if you want to talk, I'll be in the courtyard at one-thirty if you'd like to come back," she whispered.

He watched as she walked away, and he walked to a little cafe, and he ordered breakfast. He didn't order anything to drink. "Mom... What am I doing? Am I losing it?" Jason thought to himself. "Give me a sign. Should I go back to the church, or was this dream just something—."

"Sweet mother of God!" a woman exclaimed, and Jason turned to his head to see that someone spilled an iced coffee all over the front of her dress. He shook his head and went back to his potatoes.

"Guess you've got me there... And I guess if you're still taking requests, can you give me an old nun or maybe a priest to talk to? I'm sure Sister Irene is nice, I just—. Well, you know. It seems like a sin to find a nun attractive, and I'm trying to be... good," Jason thought to himself. After his breakfast of home fries and bacon, he went for a jog in the park to clear his head. He must've circled the park at least ten times before he walked back to the cafe again. This time, he ordered two drinks. Two cookies and cream milkshakes. He walked back to the church. Instead of going through the church to get to the courtyard, he went around the side.

She tapped his forearm, and he looked at her. "You probably just had lunch, but I figured..." Jason trailed off and handed her the drink. A smile spread across her face, and she thanked him. "You can take it, right? You won't get in trouble for accepting a—."

"You're fine—. I mean, I can accept gifts. Thank you," Sister Irene mumbled before taking a sip and turning away from him. She felt a little embarrassed by her lack of judgment in her wording.

"I um... Can I ask you for a favor? I know you're probably a new nun, but I guess you're the one God wants me to talk to... And I can't really remember how any of this works. I just need someone who kind of knows what they're doing—."

"Listen, pal, I personally would love to sit here for the next hour or so, but I don't really have that kind of time... It's okay. Just ask me. The worst I can say is no," she interrupted. Jason nodded and took a sip of his milkshake.

Sister Irene took a few more sips before turning to look at him. "I don't remember how—. Can you pray for me? Please," his voice broke, but he couldn't cry. Jason was desperate.

He opened his mouth to explain, but she simply took his hand, and she waited for him to bow his head. She started to pray, and tears streamed down his cheeks and hers. It was as if she felt his pain and his fear with him. She fervently prayed for him in a whisper tone, and before ending her prayer, she whispered, "And Lord, above all, if it is your will... Allow Jason the courage and strength to face the challenges ahead of him. Amen."

"Amen," Jason whispered, "How do you know my name? And how did you know what to pray for?"

She chewed her lip and let go of his hand. "I have a gift, Jason. I only saw what you wanted me to, nothing more, nothing less. I won't say anything. I just wanted—."

"You read my mind?" Jason asked.

"No, I saw your life. Past, present... Futures? That's why I'm here. So now, we both have a secret," Sister Irene whispered. Jason nodded. "You're at war with yourself. Your compassion and your rage are battling for dominance. Let the Father guide you. I have to go now."

Jason opened his mouth to speak, but she was already walking away. He held her rosary in his hand, and when it was time to go home, he took it with him. Jason went straight to his room and put the rosary in his drawer, only to be startled by Bruce sitting in a chair by his closet. "Are you trying to kill me?" Jason half-exclaimed.

"You said you'd explain," Bruce whispered.

Jason sighed. "I went to see a girl... Well, not a girl. A nun—. The nun is a girl, but she's not like a full-blown—." Jason chewed his lip. "She's going to be a nun, and I was with her... Not with her. I've never been with anyone, and it'd be a sin to be with a—. Please feel free to cut me off," Jason frowned. Bruce chuckled and raised his brow.

"You honestly could've said church... Besides, isn't it a sin to have a crush on a nun?" Bruce teased. Jason's face went beet red, and he pointed for Bruce to get out. "Does she have a sister?" Bruce joked. Jason groaned. "Sorry, a force of habit."

"Please, if you love me, you'll stop with the jokes, Dad... And I do not have a crush on a nun," Jason insisted. Another lie. Bruce nodded and left the room. "I'm gonna go to hell."

[koolkat9]

about the song and ship thing: i always thought that the great war by taylor swift would suit fruk. or maybe cardigan? actually now that i’m thinking a lot of ts songs fit fruk

I'm going to go with only one song because I got very backed up on these and fruk ideas have not been coming to me for awhile unfortunately 😅

Okay I am going to choose 'Cardigan' because 'Great War' is literally just canon/nationverse fruk and this is an au ask game/lh

Sorry this is going to be very angsty Fruk that probably won't be end game, warning everyone now.

This actually gives me more ideas for a vague idea of an au I've had for the past few months.

Francis and Arthur were childhood rivals, always at each others throats. Then something changes in high school, they realize how nice it is to have the other around as a constant in their lives and they eventually acknowledge growing fondness. That fondness turns into a passionate romance.

Until passion isn't enough anymore. This isn't the kind of romance Francis imagined for himself. They still fight, can't agree on things, constantly trying to one up one another. And Francis starts not liking that romantic dynamic. Sure the sex is great, but he wants something a little softer in other aspects. Not to mention Arthur himself seems to be going on a downward spiral despite everything Francis tries to do to help him. Eventually it gets to a point where Arthur can't offer him what he needs but someone else seems to be willing to. The two break up in their last year of uni.

Arthur is really crushed, and the break up only sends him spiraling more. In his era of stupid decisions, he accidentally gets a girl pregnant and ends up with a son. Which turns out to be just what he needs to turn his life around. He gets a steady job, leaves the alcohol and drugs behind. Though not the perfect father, he tries to give his son Alfred everything.

Around when Al is five, Francis reaches out to Arthur. They've also had a kid in the process who's about a year or so younger than Al. Francis begs Arthur to watch their son Matthew. Something seems wrong given the way Francis is speaking, but Arthur eventually agrees. It would be good for Alfred.

But something really wrong becomes apparent when Francis doesn't return that evening and refuses to pick up his phone.

Days later he finally gets a hold of Francis after threatening to call the police. Francis begs Arthur to take in Matthew. They explain that Matthew's mother abandoned them, and that they're not a fit parent. Arthur can tell Francis is drunk which gives him an inkling as to what is going on. He's pissed what this will mean for Matthew and Francis just dumped the kid on him. But when Francis brings up that they don't want to put Matt into foster care, Arthur softens having been a kid of foster care too and knowing how it can be. So he agrees.

So two possible endings.

Fruk gets back together, Arthur helps Francis get sober like he had to after Al was born.

Fruk remain only as friends but Francis eventually does start visiting despite Arthur and Matthew still being a bit mad. But they do eventually get to a better place.

[trekkele]

You mentioned in one of your tags that you'd like to write a fic where the batkids find out Alfred wasn't so awesome a parent to Bruce and I wanted to ask if you'd like to share some ideas and directions where you could imagine it going?

Would it change the way the kids think and act around Alfred? Or Bruce? And what are some Major Mistakes Alfred made that in retrospect make a lot of sense regarding Bruce's parenting? And what sent the boulder of realisation going in the first place?

I know it sounds like I'm asking for spoilers or the actual, complete plotline which you probably haven't thought out yet, but I'm just curious about various versions of situations and realisations you think could happen. Or things that you'd like to work into your fic but it just wouldn't fit.

Basically, I love your writing and I love this kind of DramaTM within the Batfam and I'd cherish any crumb of information you would like to share.

Thank you and have a wonderful day! <3

Ok so this premise does rely on good dad Bruce, not because shitty parents cant come from shitty parents (they do, usually) but because i think seeing Bruce not do the things Alfred does would be how the kids (specifically Dick) realize what kind of parent Alfred is.

And this is really a reaction to the “Alfred is a saint for putting up with Bruce” fandom attitude because if you, as a parent or a guardian, are incapable of parenting a kid, no matter how difficult that kid is, it is your responsibility to either find a way to become what your kid needs or find someone who can. I know a lot of us had shitty parents but a traumatized nine year old shouldnt be “put up with” or “handled” they should be parented. At the very least they should be loved, and they should know they are loved. (Gets off parenting soapbox, climbs onto fandom soapbox)

Also every time i think about this fic i start thinking “maybe Alfred deserves some more grace” because he was put in a pretty impossible situation immediately after losing two people he deeply respected, if not loved, and lets be reasonable the 80-90s were uh, not an ideal time for difficult parenting, and the therapy available for children back then would have probably made things worse if not outright given Bruce ptsd (if he didnt already have that), so theres that. On the other hand, Alfred is also fairly consistently shown as being deeply unkind about idiosyncrasies, and unwilling to admit when he’s wrong.

And theres only so many times you can call your adult child an idiot, and imply that you believe every one of their choices to be invalid or wrong, before it turns out that you are Part of The Problem, or at the very least, A Bitch.

Anyways.

The thing is, i dont think it would change much. I think they might stop taking Alfreds word as gospel, especially in regards to Bruce, and i think they might be more forgiving towards Bruce when he messes up in the long term, but the truth is that whats it going to change? How do you apologize to someone for that? What are you apologizing for?

Because ultimately i dont think Bruce is ready to admit that Alfred is, or was, wrong. Bruce knows he was a bad kid, a difficult kid. His teachers and his family and the newspapers, and even Alfred, have admitted that Bruce was a hard kid to raise. Probably harder to love. He’s never surprised when people leave him, after all.

He does know his own kids don’t deserve that style of parenting though. But thats because they’re better than him. He has to do better because they deserve better, because he chose to be there for them. Alfred never really got that choice, did he? Bruce’s parents trusted Alfred, and Alfred stayed out of his respect for them. Not the bratty kid who cried for a year and refused to speak and would hide under the bed instead of sleep.

And thats another thing - if Bruce admits that Alfred wasnt a good parent, if he admits that Alfred made some terrible mistakes, does that mean he’s betraying the trust his parents placed in him? Is he casting blame onto two people he can only idolize, because to do otherwise is to admit he doesn’t remember much of them anymore?

As for how the kids find out, i think Dick realized in his own. I think Jason realizes because Dick stops him from walking in and interrupting a conversation between the two and before he can ask whats going on he hears Alfred slap Bruce. Im not sure about the rest.

*i started answering this, got distracted, finished writing it in my head, and then forgot i never answered it in reality. But i think thats most of what i wanted to say.

[robinofgothamcity]

♡ starting prompt: “Everything changed for me when I met her... My Beloved.”

♡ pairing: yandere! damian wayne (Robin) & fem reader

♡ lyric inspiration: “imagine me and you? I do. I think about day and night, it’s only right, to think about the girl you love and hold her tight. so happy together.” 

♡ note: not checked for grammar or spelling mistakes / in this AU everyone in the batfamily is a yandere and probably has a darling so yeah.

Gotham Academy, for the wealthy and elite one might say. you were one of the lucky ones who got accepted through their scholarship programs and busted your ass off to keep your grades up all years. 

you had very few friends considering most Academy students hardly interacted those who they deemed poor. one friend you did have though was the Wayne heir himself. Damian was one of the first to introduce himself to you when you first arrived to Gotham Academy and really remained your friend throughout the years. 

the fresh morning air blew in the wind, making you pull your jacket closer to you as you tried to find warmth in it. the jackets they provided for your uniform were extremely thin and hardly held in any kind of heat. 

“hey! I think the Wayne kid is looking for you!” you heard your friend, Reagan tell you, “he’s waiting for you at the central garden!” you gave him a smile, thanking him for letting you know before running to where Damian usually was in the morning. 

your mornings with Damian, when he would attend school, would start with him bringing you your favorite coffee and switching homework assignments. 

unlike Damian, you were usually better in courses that had to do with humanities, such as history and english courses and you lacked the smarts that Damian had with science and math courses so the two of you would swap homework first thing in the morning. 

“good morning Wayne,” you said, sitting down on the bench. he handed you his coffee, blowing it to make sure it wasn’t too hot, “good morning, beloved. how did you sleep?” he asked, making sure your eye bags weren’t too harsh. 

you shrugged, “I’m okay. just stressed because of midterms and all of that. how did you sleep?” you asked, taking a sip of coffee. “great considering we fell asleep on Facetime together,” he mentioned, “I did the ap calc homework that you can finally copy!” he added on. 

Damian handed you the calc homework as he watched you scribble down the answers. he noticed that you had painted your nails a new color and touched the polish with his finger, “baby blue? that’s new,” he murmured. you nodded happily, “I love this color on me. I even brought color with me in case it chipped throughout the day!” you exclaimed. 

you showed him the bottle and he grabbed it, “put it on me,” you were taken back by the request. you didn’t take Damian was the kind of guy to dabble in wearing polish but nevertheless complied and put the polish on it before grabbing his hand and blowing on it to make it dry quicker, “I didn’t know you wore nail polish!” you mentioned. 

Damian thought for a moment. 

“I don’t but that way people will know we’re matching,” he murmured as the warning bell rang off. 

you and Damian walked slowly to your first period class. the summer going into your Senior year, Damian made it a duty of his to make sure that the two of you shared the same classes. so without you knowing, he had Tim hack into the Gotham Academy school system and pull Damian onto the rosters where you were enrolled in. 

you found the similarities to be funny, however; some of the teachers wondered how the hell they put the two of you in every class together. some didn’t care considering you were able to keep Damian from saying smart shit to someone in class and others were just weirded out by the coincidence. 

“god, I hate this class. you know Matt who sits in front of the class? I have to swear some gross comment about how great my legs look in the uniform by him at least twice every day.” 

Damian’s eye twitched at what you had said, “does it bother you?” he asked, his fist clenched. you nodded annoyingly, “more than anything in the world. I can’t go one day without hearing the comments,” you groaned. 

the two of you got to class but as you walked in, you had saw that Matt wasn’t in class and sighed in relief. Damian had told you he was running off to the bathroom before class started and just to write down whatever he missed while he was gone. 

you sat down, immediately writing what was already on the board but as the class started, Damian still hadn’t shown up. you were beginning to think that maybe the coffee had upset his stomach but about half way through the class, Damian came and plopped down at his desk. 

“where were you? Jackson nearly had a fit because you were late!” you muttered to him. he shrugged, taking out his pen and notebook before leaning over to copy what you had on yours.

it took about another twenty minutes when another teacher ran into the class frantically, “Matthew Harrison was just found in the garden, unconscious and is barely hanging onto his life!” the teacher told your teacher, making all of you gasp in surprise, “call an ambulance!” 

you stared to Damian wide eyed, “my God, that’s insane! we were just there. I wonder who did it,” you told Damian, chewing your lip nervously, “I hope whoever did it doesn’t come for any of us.”

Damian could tell you were scared from the news and he quickly grabbed your hand, “I think you’re safe, beloved. you shouldn’t worry about it,” he assured you. you nodded, going back to writing down the notes, “hey, he finally got what he deserved for harassing you, right?” Damian mentioned. 

you laughed shaking your head, “I guess but I mean, I hope he doesn’t die or anything,” that was the last thing you said before the both of you got to working on the work the teacher assigned for the class while she was gone.

Damian could tell you were shaken by the news but at the end of the day, he did what he had to do. someone was harassing his beloved and he’d be damned if they got away with it. it took every ounce of self restriction to stop himself from actually killing the idiot but the beating he actually gave him did more than enough to satisfy him for the time being.

two broken legs, a broken nose, and making him go blind in one eye was more than enough. the great thing about Gotham Academy was that because of how old the building was, cameras weren’t installed anywhere outside and any cameras that were inside were just in the upgraded part of the school which happened to be the front of the school and the gym. 

the end of the day came as Damian had offered to take you home. you denied the request, telling him you wanted to walk to get some fresh air before you trapped yourself in your room for the rest of the night. 

Damian was hesitant on letting you but at the end of the day, you weren’t his...yet. he knew his feelings for you weren’t exactly normal. far from it, actually. 

when his feelings for you boiled over to damn near obsession, he confided in the one person he trusted the most and that was Dick. he practically confessed how he needed to be near or around you every day or else he would go insane. even if it was just seeing you from afar made his day a 100x better. 

Dick laughed at his brothers confession because he knew it was about time it happened to him. he had gone through the same feelings when he met his now wife and so did Bruce, Tim, Duke, and Jason. 

when Damian was finally confident enough to tell everyone else, they finally let him in on the family secret. these feelings were nothing to be afraid of. he should embrace them and hell, make his feelings get even ‘worse’. it was his job as your protector to feel that way and act on his instincts for you. 

Damian got home, seeing his father and brother watching the news. they were covering what happened at school and a part of him laughed seeing the coverage. 

“did you see what happened?” Dick asked his brother. Damian nodded, kicking off his shoes and laying on the other couch, “of course I did because I was the one who did it,” he said nonchalantly. 

Bruce and Dick stared at him, wide eyed and shocked, “the scum was messing with my beloved. he was making disgusting comments about her and degrading her in a way she and I didn’t like. the piece of shit deserved more than what he got,” he stated, not even bothering to look at them to see their reaction.

“so it’s best we don’t investigate this, I assume?” Bruce asked, “you would assume right,” Damian replied. 

Dick got off the couch and went on one knee to look at his brother, “Damian, you know the implications that comes with how you left him. you know that, right?” he stated. Damian stared at Dick with no fear in his eyes, “everything changed for me when I met her... my beloved. I would kill for her if I had too.” 

Bruce sat in his seat, proudly smirking at what his son said. Dick nodded, walking back to the couch as Damian stood up to go to his bedroom, “it’s only a matter of what before I make her mine so expect her to be around soon enough,” he told them.

+

a few weeks had passed since the incident with your classmate. since then, you had gotten clingier to Damian, not wanting to be at the end of the beating. Daimian had no issue in it, he was practically basking in the touches and side hugs you were giving him. 

you and Damian had decided to head back to his place after school to get some studying done. Friday nights were usually reserved to studying at your place but Damian had offered to make you dinner at his place and study before watching a few movies. 

you had never been over the Wayne manor before and frankly, you were kind of scared to run into his father. THE Bruce Wayne would most likely be in attendance and meeting the most powerful man in Gotham would probably scare anyone. 

Damian unlocked the gate, quickly taking your backpack as you snuggled into his jacket. you were immediately welcomed by his butler, Alfred who offered to put both of you bags in the hallway so no one would step over them. you thanked him profusely, making Damian mutter to you that that’s why he was here. to serve you. 

“so, what would you like to eat, beloved? I can make you anything you desire,” he boasted. you looked at the cookbook that was laid next to you and flipped through the first few pages, “this sounds nice,” you pointed to the plant based steak with veggies.

Damian quickly got to work, making the veggies first as he offered for you taste them every now and again. you would usually relay a kiss on his cheek as he finally got to cooking the steak. you couldn’t help but wonder how he got to be such a great cook, however; as he was finishing plating the food, you saw his father as well as you assumed were his brothers. 

“uh Damian?” you mentioned, pointing to the three men who walked in. Damian sighed knowing that of course his brothers were going to come and annoy him, “who’s your friend?” Dick asked, putting his chin on his hand. 

“this is ( your name ), my beloved,” he told them proudly. you were a bit taken back by the nickname he so easily used on you, “ahh, we’ve heard so much about you,” Tim continued, “she’s so pretty....she’s not like other girls,” Dick mocked. 

your face felt a burning sensation as Bruce told his sons to be quiet, “nice to meet you ( your name ),” Bruce introduced, “welcome to the family,” you barely caught what he said as Damian excused the two of you to go up to his bedroom. 

“your family is...nice,” you tried to say without sounding nervous. Damian rolled his eyes, “they’re bunch of idiots. that’s what they are,” he muttered, not bothering to look back at them. 

once you got to his room, your mouth dropped a bit. you had never seen such a luxurious bedroom before. satin sheets, the coldest pillows, his bedroom could probably house a family if he really wanted too and the fact that this was his bedroom, you were taken back. 

“wow, so this is how the rich and famous live?” you joked, sitting down on his bed. he shook his head, “all this means nothing to me...as long as you’re with me, I’d be the happiest person alive,” you stared at Damian, wondering if what he said was really true. 

the two of you ate, mostly in silence as you tried to take what Damian had said. there had been rumors floating around Gotham Academy that Damian might’ve liked you. you tried to dispel the rumors, claiming that someone like you was no where near Damian’s type but now that you were hearing the words he was telling you, you were more keen on acting on his feelings. 

after finishing dinner, he offered for you to join him on his bed to watch a movie. you had never actually gotten to hang out with Damian outside of school. since you were always so busy doing schoolwork and Damian always had things to take care of, as he put it, you two never relaxed together. 

the aura in the room was cozy as he offered you a very expensive looking blanket to cover you up from the chilly air coming from his window. the movie the two of you picked was some random rom-com, it felt kind of stupid to be watching this kind of movie with Damian but at some point, you stopped paying attention to the movie and looked up to him. 

“did you really mean what you said earlier?” you whispered to him. he gave you a confused look, “of course I did. would I ever lie to you?” he said back, kind of offended that you would even accuse him of lying. 

you sat back up on the bed and turned to fix yourself as you finally gave him a kiss. Damian’s eyes widened, not expecting you to do that to him. regardless, he immediately pulled you on top of him and deepened the kiss by pushing you up against him. 

Damian slid his hands in the back pocket of your skirt, finding it a bit confusing why the uniforms even had pockets on the skirts. he gripped your ass a bit, making you moan in surprise as Damian tried his hardest to contain himself but failing as he slipped his tongue into yours. 

the two of you remained kissing for what felt like hours. you knew your lips were bound get bruised from the amount of tugging Damian was doing but by the time you pulled away, you could see the faintest of blushes appearing on Damian’s brown skin. 

“wow, didn’t know you felt like that for me,” you muttered shyly. Damian chuckled, giving you a quick peck, “I have feelings you wouldn’t even begin to understand but one day....one day you will,” he replied. 

you didn’t pay no mind to his reply as he had brought you down for another kiss. what you didn’t catch was the smirk playing on his face. he knew that once graduation came, there would already be a ring on that left ring finger and soon enough, you’d be baring his heirs. 

the Wayne’s got what they wanted. it didn’t matter what they had to do to get it but what the Wayne’s wanted, they got. 

[peaceisadirtyword]

Heathen VI (Ivar/Edlynn)

A/N; Hello!♥️ I’m back after a short, holiday break! And even if these next weeks are going to be chaotic, I will try to keep posting Heathen once a week as I did before! There’s only another four (five with this one) left until the end👀, so I hope you enjoy it a lot🥰 I didn’t have time to reply to your comments on last chapter but I read all of them and I’m so happy to see you’re liking it🥺 thank you so much, it means the world🙏🏻 took a bit longer to finish this one because I wasn’t too convinced but I hope you like it too♥️

Warnings: smut ( 👀), talk of feelings, my cringey writing, Ivar is the best, mentions of alcohol, violence, sex and talk about arranged marriage and religious things!

Words: 4823 (will I ever stop)

Heathen Masterlist

gif belongs to @therealcalicali​

"We could move here" Harald pointed at the map. Hvitserk followed his finger and pressed his lips together. Maybe a bit risky, he thought, but he didn't dare contradict the king because of strategical differences, that was Ivar's job "It's closer to the sea, and it would be easier to run away if the saxons decide to attack us once we don't have the saxon girl as leverage"

"It could be" he nodded, as he waited for Ivar's opinion. But as the minutes passed and his brother didn't say a word, Hvitserk raised his head to look at him. 

Ivar was sitting in front of him, with a drink on his hand, but looking away. He didn't seem to be even listening to what they were saying, and when Hvitserk's eyes followed his gaze, he understood why. 

His lips curved on a small smirk and immediately turned to look at Harald, who also seemed amused to have caught the ruthless Ivar the Boneless sneaking glances to a lady. 

Edlynn was sitting on a cut tree, not very far away from them, and her eyes were fixed on a book that Hvitserk had seen on Ivar's tent. She only had a couple of guards with her, and her wrists were untied, giving her much more freedom than Hvitserk ever thought Ivar would give her. 

"Ivar" he called his name, making him turn his head with a frown, almost like he was annoyed by his interruption "Are you listening?"

Harald held back a laugh when Ivar blinked, somewhat confused, until he spotted the map and the pieces the king had moved, and seemed to get out of his trance. His cheeks reddened softly, but he pretended not to realize as he scrutinized the map, trying to remember what had changed since Edlynn stepped out of the tent and his eyes wandered off. 

Hvitserk raised his eyebrow. He already knew what was going on, since he caught Edlynn leaving the tent with swollen lips more than once and had seen them sleeping together, with her face hidden in Ivar's neck. But at first he thought his brother was just having some fun, not falling for the saxon girl. Those glances said otherwise. 

"It would be risky" Ivar cleared his throat "I don't think Alfred would attack us once Edlynn is with him" 

Harald raised his head again. Edlynn? He didn't know when Ivar started calling the prisoner by her name, but found it amusing. 

"Then what do you propose?" Hvitserk tried to ignore it, but he would ask his brother about it "Shall we stay here?"

"I think we should move a bit closer to the boats, but not like it seems we're retiring" he shrugged "But it's your decision, king Harald"

Harald had gotten used to the mocking tone whenever Ivar said his title out loud. He didn't really care, it had started to sound like a joke to him too. 

"I will think about it tonight, and tomorrow we'll decide" 

But just when he was about to stand up, maybe too eager to go back to his tent, a guard approached them. 

Edlynn pretended not to realize he was staring. Neither of them talked about it but both of them seemed to think the same: no one should know of their... Affair? She couldn't help but blush whenever she thought about it. Well, she didn't even know if it could be considered an actual affair. There had been kisses, some more innocent than others, Ivar had touched her body in a way no one had in her entire life, she had let her hands wander down his strong arms and chest, but nothing more. It was still a sin, something she didn't want people knowing. Edlynn would be mortified if someone heard about it, about what she was doing with a... Heathen. 

But the thing that alarmed her the most weren't the kisses or the caresses, not even the fire that Ivar awakened in her, but the warmth that expanded through her chest whenever she saw him, the smiles, the little laughs, the reddened cheeks... She couldn't think about anything else that weren't his blue eyes and his pouty lips, nor could pray in peace without remembering how soft his hair was under her fingers or what a beautiful smile he had. Every night she promised she'd stop, that she wouldn't let herself fall in love with him, but sometimes, especially under the furs and between his arms, she thought there was nothing she could do now. 

It was temporal, Edlynn tried not to think about what would happen when she had to go back to her family, to Lord Edmund, the man who was supposed to be her husband. Would she ever feel the same with him? Probably not, and the thought saddened her. It was such a beautiful feeling she wished she could carry forever. 

Even if it was hard, and even if she knew many people in the camp suspected it, Edlynn tried to act like nothing had happened. They barely talked to each other in public, but she noticed he was always close to her, or at least close enough to be able to watch her. She liked that. 

Edlynn was reading, but she hadn't turned the page in what felt like hours, too focused on the glances that certain man threw her way and on hiding her blush. Until someone else approached the three men that sat down not too far away from her. She raised her head, interested, as the man seemed to carry important news. Even if she had understood their language, she wouldn't have heard anything, as the noise of the camp was too loud. But she could see the king with a big smile, celebrating something. And Ivar had frowned and his eyes were now fixed on the ground at his feet. 

When he finally looked her way again, he ignored the silent question on her eyes and looked directly at the guard that stood next to her, pointing to his own tent with his head. And Edlynn was practically dragged towards it. 

____________________________________

That night they celebrated. The reason was still a mystery to her, but Edlynn tried to ask every single person that entered the tent, from Brianna to Hvitserk, without receiving any answer. She could hear the happy screams and laughs, and figured it couldn't be bad, right?

At least not for them. 

A shiver travelled down her spine when she thought about her family, would they be alright? Had those heathens killed them?

And then Ivar came back. 

His eyes were bright and Edlynn figured he had been drinking too. His movements were slow, and let himself fall on the bed with a grunt, letting his crutch go before rubbing his face with his hands.

"Hello" Edlynn raised an eyebrow, why do men drink so much if they feel bad afterwards? 

"Hi, princess" he muttered, grunting "How was your day?" Ivar sat on the bed, sighing. It had been a long day, and it seemed it would be a long night too. 

"Clearly not as interesting as yours" 

He raised an eyebrow, but didn't turn to look at her. 

"I was trying to negotiate" he shrugged "And king Harald negotiates better when there's ale" 

"Negotiate what?" Edlynn narrowed her eyes, moving a bit closer to him. 

_____________________________________

"The saxons will agree to our terms" the messenger smiled proudly as he delivered the news "They will pay, and give us land and time to settle" he nodded "In exchange for the saxon girl" 

Harald's laugh startled Ivar, who stared at the messenger intensely.

"Of course they will!" he celebrated, nodding his head and patting Ivar's back softly "You were right, once again" 

He shot him a fake smile, which faded as soon as the king turned to Hvitserk. He thought he'd have more time, that asking for such a ridiculous amount of gold, land and a truce would be too much to give for just one girl, and that the saxons would try and change the terms. That would've given him weeks, even months. His eyes went back to where Edlynn was sitting, and silently told the guard to take her away. 

"The saxon king said they shall wait for us in the battlefield to make the exchange, and that the girl must be unharmed and well, otherwise they won't give us what we asked for" 

"Thank you, my friend" Harald patted the soldier's shoulder with a bright smile "Go, eat and rest, tonight we'll celebrate" 

Hvitserk didn't stop looking at Ivar. He noticed how he clenched his jaw and licked his lips repeatedly. He felt his own lips curving on a smile, but just slapped his head playfully. 

That night they did celebrate. Everyone sang, drank and ate next to the king, around a fire. Another victory, thanks to Ivar. But Ivar didn't seem too keen on participating on the celebrations.

"What's it, Ivar?" Hvitserk sat next to him as he saw him pour the ale on his horn for the fifth time "Aren't you happy to get rid of the saxon girl and get paid for it?" he chuckled, but his brother didn't laugh with him. 

"I just think..." Ivar clenched his jaw again "Maybe the price is too low" 

"Low?" Hvitserk raised an eyebrow "We didn't think they'd agree, it's too much, that price would fit a queen, but not a noble girl" 

"Yes but they did agree to it" he shook his head "What if... What if we ask for more?" 

"They would say no, and the negotiations would continue, we don't want that" his older brother frowned and shook his head, taking another sip from his horn "Because we don't want that, right?" 

"No" Ivar replied maybe too fast, and then scowled "It's just that I don't think we've benefited enough from holding her captive, she's obviously more important than we thought" 

"Well, dear brother, if I'm honest, I think you've benefited quite a lot from having her here" he chuckled, patting Ivar's leg softly. His brother widened his eyes at him, but managed to hide his surprise and go back to scowling.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Hvitserk" 

"Sure" he laughed, shaking his head "Sure, you don't know, but it's quite obvious, Ivar" he shot him a soft smile "I can't blame you, she's pretty, innocent... I thought you didn't like saxon girls" 

"Shut up" he rolled his eyes, but Hvitserk saw the little smile he tried to hide "I'm not trying to keep her here, I just want to make sure we get the deal that benefits us the most, that's all" 

"Fine, I believe you" this time it was Hvitserk's turn to roll his eyes "Tell Harald, then, but I don't think he will agree" 

"I was waiting for him to get drunk" Ivar shrugged, making his brother laugh. 

"Good luck then" Hvitserk winked at him before getting up "Want advice?" 

"No" 

"Don't fall in love" he ignored him "That doesn't end well" 

_________________________________

Ivar finally gave up, and went back to the tent, in need of some peace and maybe the soft touch of the woman that sat on he bed behind him. Harald didn't listen, and they kept celebrating. 

"Your king agreed to our terms" he said, finally turning his head to look at her. Edlynn wore another dress they had found for her, with her auburn hair loose, and she looked so beautiful Ivar had to blink a couple of times. He wanted to see her reaction, would she be happy? Or would she feel as weird as he had been feeling all day?

But instead she looked confused. 

"What... What does that mean?" 

"That means we'll meet them in a few days and I will let you go"

Edlynn gasped, but instead of feeling relieved and thankful, eager to see her family again, to see Mildrith, to go home... She looked into those ocean eyes and only felt a strange emptiness inside her. 

I must be insane, she thought as she crawled closer to him. Ivar's eyes didn't left her face, almost like he was waiting for her to smile, laugh and sigh in relief. 

Edlynn didn't do any of those things. 

"Aren't you happy?" he gulped. 

"I... I suppose I am" she muttered "But..." 

I know, he thought, nearly desperately. He couldn't describe it either. 

"You'll go back to your castle, you'll marry your lord, you'll be with your family and will have a church to pray to your God every time you want" 

"Yes, but..."

"Wasn't that what you wanted?" he sounded sharper than he intended. 

"I don't want that anymore" Edlynn scowled "I don't want to go back and marry, I don't want to spend my days sewing, gossiping with other women and praying"

Not so long ago, she wouldn't have even imagined she'd say those words, that was her life, a life she had enjoyed and lived happily. But now... Now she had tried other things, new things... Was it that bad to want to keep them?

"I know it's my duty" she continued, the tears threatened to fall down her cheeks, but she held them as she had been taught "And I know I will have to do it someday but I... I will miss you"

Ivar looked away, clenching his jaw again and hoping she didn't see the tears filling his eyes. The thought of entering that tent and finding it empty, without the familiar presence of the annoying saxon girl praying or reading, of spending his nights studying maps alone instead of the books in latin Edlynn would read for him, or talking about the Gods, about the adventures of Thor and Loki or the golden apples of Idunn was... Not what he wanted. 

Not even the possibility of conquering England was helping. 

He felt Edlynn getting closer, and her small hand, with her soft fingers that had never held any kind of weapon, touched his shoulder. Ivar felt dizzy, but couldn't know if it was because of the ale or because of her. 

"I will miss you too" 

The words left his lips before he could hold them back, and when he raised his head to look at her, Edlynn had the biggest smile on her lips. She almost made him smile too. 

"I... You could come and visit me someday?" she muttered, biting her lip "My friend Mildrith would love to meet you, she's obsessed" 

Ivar raised an eyebrow. 

"Do you think your father or your husband would let me visit you? You're supposed to hate me" 

Edlynn's smile faded. 

"I don't hate you" she tilted his head in an adorable way, and Ivar had to look away again "You were a bit mean at first, but you're not like they say you are... And he's not my husband" 

"Yet" he shrugged "What do they say about me?" 

Edlynn giggled, shaking her head.

"Mildrith said you're the Devil, in a human shape, that you are ruthless and... I heard you drink blood and eat human flesh" 

Ivar couldn't help but laugh. 

"I don't eat human flesh" he scowled in disgust "Do you think I could be that Devil you talk about?"

Edlynn took a deep breath, and her fingers caressed softly his cheek. 

"You could be" she said, nodding slowly "You're smart, ambitious, ruthless, but also beautiful, like a fallen angel" Edlynn blushed "You do tempt me to sin"

Ivar smirked, humming in delight. She had a lot more to say about his looks, but decided to keep it to herself to avoid feeding his ego. 

"And you would invite me, the heathen who tempts you, to your home with your father and your husband?"

Edlynn blushed again. 

"He's not my husband" she repeated.

"But you're going to marry him, princess, he will be your husband soon, unless..."

His eyes fixed on the axe he had next to the bed, and Edlynn gasped and punched his arm. 

"Don't even think about it!"

Her reaction amused Ivar, who shook his head laughing. Even if he wasn't actually joking. 

"Lord Edmund is a good man, a good christian, he will take care of me" she said quietly, almost trying to convince herself "And it will be a good thing for my family"

"From what I've seen, princess, you don't need anyone to take care of you" he sighed, leaning to undo his braces. She smiled at that, feeling that warmth fill her body again. It was a huge compliment coming from him. 

When he finished taking off the braces and removed most of his clothes Edlynn was already under the furs, her eyelids felt heavy but she forced herself to stay awake. She wanted to enjoy every moment she had left with him, knowing she wouldn't see him again. They still had some days, though, that comforted her. 

Ivar nearly moaned when he finally was able to lay on the bed. His eyes had been a bit more blue that morning, so it had been a difficult day. Edlynn watched him in silence, amazed by the perfection of his features. How could he be the Devil when he looked sculpted by God? He was too beautiful to be impure, but then again, he was a heathen. Her mind went back to his wife, and a strange pang of jealousy stroke her. What would he do if she kissed him now? 

"It's rude to stare, princess"

Ivar had an amused smirk on his lips, which only grew when he saw Edlynn's glare. 

"Remember when I said I'd miss you? Well, I take it back" 

That made him laugh. 

"Go to sleep, little one" he muttered, already closing his eyes "Maybe I can teach you some more archery before you leave, but only if you rest" 

He could hear a little gasp and imagined her excited smile, but didn't open his eyes until he felt her crawling closer to him and leaning her head on his shoulder. When he did look at her, she was already ready to sleep, with her eyes closed and breathing slowly. 

"Good night, heathen"

Ivar couldn't help but smile, too. 

"Good night, princess"

______________________________________

Ivar was cold. He stirred in his sleep looking for the source of warmth he was missing, but opened his eyes when he couldn't find it. 

The bed was empty, he frowned and pawed at the furs, confused. Where is she? 

The thought of her escaping made him more sad than angry, and he was nearly gasping when he finally spotted her. Edlynn sat on the wooden stool next to his table, studying the paintings of one of the books he had at the dim light of a nearly melted candle. 

"Sorry" she pouted, looking at him with widened eyes "I didn't mean to wake you up" 

"You didn't" he groaned, rubbing his eyes "What are you doing awake? It's the middle of the night" 

He couldn't hear anything outside the tent, only the hushed voices of some guards, and it was still dark. 

"I couldn't sleep" she shrugged. 

"Come back to bed" he nearly ordered, narrowing his eyes at her. Edlynn held back a laugh as she closed the book, leaning in to blow the candle before making her way back to the bed. Ivar watched her as she crawled under the furs and laid back, with her eyes still open. 

"It feels strange to go back and marry someone else"

Ivar frowned in the darkness of the tent. 

"What does that mean?"

"You're the first man I shared the bed with" she muttered "The first man I kissed... The first touching me. I always believed that man would be my husband" 

"I'm also the first man that made you a prisoner" he teased, and Edlynn rolled her eyes with a small smile. 

"I don't think you understand"

"Then tell me"

"I want you to be the last, too" 

Edlynn bit her own tongue after saying it, taking a deep breath as Ivar turned to look at her. She nearly regretted it, but... Why hide it? They probably wouldn't see each other again. She was just telling the truth, like a good christian.

"You don't know what you're saying" 

His answer confused her even more. 

"What?"

"I... We're on different sides, princess" he sighed, and held himself back from reaching out to caress her cheek "I am a heathen, remember?" 

"But you're good to me" she pouted, and Ivar nearly leant in to kiss her "I've seen you talk about your Gods with passion, laugh with your brother, I've seen you bonding with your men and even stroking horses... You're not the monster they talk about, at least not now... You treated me well... As well as you can treat a prisoner, I don't see how you're different from any christian man I know"

Ivar couldn't help but smile and lean his forehead against hers, his fingers tingled, desperate to touch her. He felt a faintly familiar warmth inside his chest. 

"You have to go back home, princess" he insisted "You'll forget about me and will learn to hate me again" 

"I will never hate you" she muttered, and then there was silence. Ivar nearly thought she had fallen asleep again, and kept relaxing against her body, listening to her breathing.

"Ivar" it was the first time he had heard her saying his name, and it sounded so soft with her voice... He looked at her, who had her eyes fixed on his Mjölnir necklace "Kiss me?"

It sounded more like a question than a demand. Edlynn wasn't nearly ready when she felt his strong hand around the side of her neck and his lips pressed against hers. She sighed in delight and kissed him back, grabbing his arm shyly. She had missed his kisses so much... What would she do without them? 

Ivar deepened the kiss, making Edlynn moan quietly and mover her hand to his face, cupping hit softly until her fingers touched his hair. Ivar's hand roamed down her body, settling on her waist and nearly touching her ass. Things were getting out of control, and Ivar didn't know how much he could keep things... Like that. 

Edlynn moved even closer, and now he could feel her breasts against his bare chest. Ivar sighed and smiled against her sweet lips, tightening his grip around her waist. They broke the kiss to breathe, and Edlynn smiled brightly at him before leaning in to kiss him again. 

"We can stop whenever you want" he groaned as her thigh pressed against his cock, making it twitch. 

"I don't want to stop" she replied, frowning, and he nearly laughed. 

Edlynn was serious. She had heard about it more than once, her whole life everyone assured that it was painful and not enjoyable at all for women, but everything Ivar did in that moment felt good... Why wouldn't that feel good then?

"I thought you weren't allowed to do this" he panted as Edlynn's lips landed on his jaw softly. Her kisses were shy, inexperienced, innocent... Completely different from Katia, Freydis or Margrethe, the only women he had ever kissed, but just as effective. 

"I'm not" she giggled "Should I stop?" 

"No" Ivar groaned and tightened his grip on her waist. If they stopped now, he was going to go crazy. He had tried to erase her body from his mind since he saw her in the river that day, and he had failed. 

"I want to do this" she muttered, interrupting their kisses to look at his eyes again "Because I've been told men like it, a lot" she blushed, but the darkness hid it "And I want you to remember me"

"Trust me, princess" Ivar squirmed under her, his body reacting to her closeness "I was going to remember you anyway"

When they kissed again, he tugged at the skirt of her dress, nearly moaning when he finally was able to touch her bare skin. It was soft, warm, and Ivar felt her stiffen when he caressed her leg. Her hand traced the ink lines of his chest as his lips traveled down her neck, Edlynn gasped and let out a shaky breath, biting her tongue. She was supposed to be silent, right? 

"Women can also enjoy this" he said against her skin, his fingers reached her inner thigh and Edlynn's muscles tensed under his touch "Want me to show you?" 

He smirked when she nodded shyly. Edlynn was biting her lip and looking down in curiosity, even if she couldn't see his hand approaching her sex. Ivar wasn't too sure of what he was doing, but kept reaching until he finally touched her, and Edlynn let out a strangled sound and he quickly looked at her. She had closed her eyes and her nails were digging on his skin. Ivar kept caressing her folds until he reached the place that made her jump and moan loudly. 

Edlynn quickly covered her mouth as Ivar smirked with pride and started circling his fingers as his brothers had said more than once. He would have loved to go down and kiss her properly, but didn't want to scare her so soon. 

When Ivar finally pressed two fingers to her entrance, Edlynn opened her eyes, looking both aroused and confused at the same time. 

"Relax" he whispered, reaching to kiss her softly "How does it feel?" 

She was gasping, but managed to reply with a small moan and a frown. 

"Weird" she muttered "But... Good" 

"Good" he nodded, and increased the pace, making Edlynn moan again and grab his arm "I've got you, princess" 

She was shaking between his arms as he started curling his fingers inside her, enjoying the way her walls clenched around them and the incoherent moans she let out. His hand was covered with wetness, and finally Ivar retrieved his hand, making Edlynn whimper in protest. 

But he needed both hands to tear that stupid dress apart. 

She gasped and blushed when he finally was able to throw the pieces of fabric away, to reveal her entire naked body to his eyes. Ivar growled and his lips collapsed against hers again. His hands were everywhere, touching her breasts, her belly and her ass at the same time, and soon his mouth followed them. She nearly felt overwhelmed, where she expected pain and discomfort she only got pleasure, a different kind of pleasure, and she needed more, so much more. 

Ivar finally pushed her to lay down on the bed, and moved to crawl between her legs to keep kissing her. 

"Want me to fuck you, princess?" 

Edlynn widened her eyes, but her legs tightened around his waist and Ivar put his pants down just enough to free his cock. He enjoyed the surprise on her face when she saw it, not used to women being impressed by him. 

"Look at me" he muttered, noticing how she grew nervous "Do you trust me?"

Edlynn allowed herself to get lost into his eyes again, nodding slowly and grabbing his neck as he pressed into her slowly. Ivar needed all of his willpower to keep a slow pace to avoid hurting her too much. She scrunched her nose in pain and closed her eyes. Ivar wasn't an expert, but he knew that, for women, it was painful the first time. Her little shrieks of pain brought back some not very nice memories from his own first time. 

"Hey, princess, open your eyes" he stopped moving, even if he was already shaking from feeling her tight walls around him, when Edlynn obeyed, she had tears in her eyes "Am I hurting you too much?" 

She shook her head and licked her lips. 

"Just a bit"

"I'm sorry" he kissed her temple and let out a shaky breath "I promise it gets better" 

His own eyes were fluttering and he could barely stay still. 

"Keep going" she muttered "I'll be fine"

As he started moving again, Edlynn felt the pain fading slowly. It didn't became pleasurable, like it had when he had used his hand, but it became more... Tolerable. She even felt some pleasure, and it wasn't as bad as she thought, in fact, she enjoyed the way Ivar muttered some strange words in Norse she couldn't understand, and how he moaned and sighed against her skin. It was truly a sight, to see him with his eyes closed in pleasure, enjoying her body in ways she never thought anyone would. 

When Ivar finished, he captured her lips with his again, drowning the sounds they both made as he finally stopped moving. His forehead rested against hers, and their hands were intertwined. None of them said anything at first, enjoying the feeling of being so close, and Ivar let himself hide his face in her neck, sighing. How was he going to let her go now?

___________________________________

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[marauderundercover]

The Strings that Bind Us: Ch. 4

AO3

Prev

When Bruce asked Marinette to stay the night at the manor for a couple days while he went out of town for work, she was a little nervous. Sure, they’d been dating for almost four months, and yes she’d met Jason and Dick before, but this was the first time she’d be spending time with just Jason. Without Bruce there to mediate. But so far, it’d been fine. They’d gotten closer over the past two months, and Jason was actually a sweet kid. Standing in front of Gotham Academy, Marinette frowns at the sky, willing the rain to stay away. The bell rings and she shifts, nodding at the kids who waved at her, probably recognizing her from the cafe. She shifts to the balls of her feet, trying to see if she can spot Jason in the crowd of kids. Spotting him, she waves excitedly, grinning widely. 

“You’re so embarrassing.” He says, walking up to her and shaking his head. But the grin on his face definitely contradicts that. 

“I’m just excited to get ice cream.” She teases, nudging him gently. Even though he was only twelve (and much shorter than Dick and Bruce), they were close to the same height. Damn her Maman’s shortness. As they walk to the ice cream stand near her favorite park, Marinette listens to Jason explaining his day, frowning as she realizes: he’s being bullied. 

“But it doesn’t really matter.” He adds after telling her about the boys picking on him. Her eyes narrow. 

“Bruce didn’t tell you that, right?” She asks. He shakes his head. “Good, I thought I was going to have to add him to my list.” 

“What list?” Jason asks, frowning. 

“The list of people whose asses I have to kick.” She says, smirking at Jason’s surprised laugh. 

“Mari, you can’t- you can’t just beat up my bullies.” He says, laughing. 

“And why not? I’m short. I’ll say I go to public school. What’re they going to do, call my parents?” She snarks, working hard to keep a straight face. As Jason continues laughing, though, she finds it impossible to keep a straight face and instead joins him. “Seriously though, sweetheart, if these kids are bothering you, I can go up to the school. No one should be treated like that, and if you’ll let me, I’d love to give the principal a piece of my mind for letting it happen.” She adds. Jason sighs. 

“They won’t listen to you. Those kids’ parents have money and shit. I’m nothing to them.” He grumbles and she stops, turning him to look at her. How could this sweet little boy, someone who meant the world to her, say that he’s nothing. 

“Jason Peter Todd, you listen to me. You are not nothing. The amount of money a person has doesn’t mean a damn thing. How you treat others, what you choose to do, who you are as a person, that is what matters. That’s what makes you so much better, so much more than those little pricks at your school.” Marinette rambles, looking right into his eyes, desperately hoping he believes her. He’s silent for a minute, before he lunges forward and wraps his arms around her. Marinette sighs, wrapping the boy up in a big hug, kissing the top of his head. They stand there for a few moments before Jason pulls back, quickly wiping at his eyes. 

“Yeah, uh, if you really wanna go up there I guess you can.” He says, clearing his throat. Marinette smiles, ruffling his hair. 

“As long as it’s okay with you. Wouldn’t wanna embarrass you.” She says and he snorts. 

“I don’t think anyone could be more embarrassing than when B signed me up for school and he was acting like Brucie.” He says and she sighs. She’d heard all about ‘Brucie’ and though he’d never acted like that around her, he definitely still acted like that in public. But without the excessive flirting with models. Finally arriving at the small ice cream cart, Marinette and Jason each get a cone before starting their walk around the park. It’d become something of a tradition when she picked him up from school. She couldn’t always do it, because of the cafe, but that just made it that much more special. They’re halfway down their favorite path when her luck runs out and the rain that had been holding off for a day and a half comes down with a fury. It wasn’t warm rain either. No, the rain was ice cold and chilled her to the bone almost immediately. Gasping, she grabs Jason’s hand and tugs him under a pavilion to try and get some shelter from the rain.

“God, I’m so sorry Jay. I didn’t realize- it looked like it was gonna rain for days.” She says mournfully, teeth chattering as she digs her phone out of her purse, praying that it’s not soaked too. Alfred would definitely come pick them up if she asked. 

“It’s fine M, it’s just rain, it’s not like it’s gonna kill us.” 

---

Bruce walks into the manor, frowning when he doesn’t see Marinette. He’d expected her to still be around, even though Jason was definitely at school. He sighs, guessing that she’d had to leave to deal with something at the cafe. He shuts the door, and is about to go to his study when Alfred appears. 

“Ah, Master Bruce. Your turn.” He says simply and Bruce frowns. 

“Sorry, what?” He asks. 

“Miss Marinette, sir. I’ve tried to help her, but she is extremely stubborn. Thus, your turn.” Alfred says before walking away. Bruce frowns. What happened while he was gone? 

---

“M’fine.” Jason mumbles, swatting her hand away as she tries to feel his head. 

“C’mon Jay, just lemme check. If you have a fever you need more medicine.” She says, sighing in relief when he stops struggling and lets her feel his head. She hums, sitting back in the chair by his bed. “Do you need soup? Or maybe some cocoa?” She asks. 

“No. Just sleep.” He mumbles. Marinette nods in understanding, singing to him quietly despite the tickle in her throat. The poor kid was sick, and she blamed herself for letting them get caught up in the rain yesterday. Just as he falls asleep and she feels her own eyes droop, the door swings open. 

“Mari?” A voice says and she groans, waving whoever it is away. 

“Shhhh. He’s sleeping. Gimme a minute.” She mumbles, glancing at Jason once more before standing and moving outside the room, shutting the door slightly to not wake him up. 

“What happened? Why isn’t he in school?” Bruce asks, his face scrunched in concern. She frowns, knowing he’s probably going to hate her for letting his youngest son get sick. 

“We went for ice cream yesterday and then to the park, but it started raining and we got soaked and now he’s sick and I’m so sorry, but I’ve been giving him medicine and making sure he’s eating and drinking water so he’ll be okay but he definitely couldn’t go to school today.” She rambles. Bruce frowns and reaches forward, putting a gentle hand on her forehead. 

“Mari, love, are you sick too?” He asks worriedly. She scoffs. 

“No, of course not.” She says. 

“Yes she is.” Alfred says as he walks by, continuing down the hall as if he didn’t say anything. Marinette frowns, glaring after the man. 

“Traitor.” She mumbles under her breath. 

“Love, maybe you should take some medicine and go to bed.” Bruce suggests, but she shakes her head. 

“No, Jason needs me. He’s sick.” Marinette argues. Bruce frowns. 

“Have you at least taken some medicine?” He asks, and she pouts. 

“It makes me sleepy. I was afraid I’d fall asleep and not know if Jason needed something.” She says, and he sighs. 

“Mari, my love, you aren’t going to get better if you don’t take medicine.” Bruce says, gently wrapping his arms around her. She sighs and leans into his embrace, feeling safe and complete in his arms. Until she hears Jason start having a coughing fit. She immediately pulls away from Bruce and rushes back into the room, grabbing the glass of water off of his night table and holding it, waiting for him to stop coughing before she passes it to him. 

“Careful kiddo.” She says, setting the glass back down on the night table. She sits on the edge of his bed and gently pushes his hair out of his face. He sighs, his eyes shutting again almost immediately. 

“Thanks Mom.” He mumbles sleepily, and soon his soft breathing is the only sound in the room. Marinette is frozen. Mom. Mom. He’d called her mom. Was it just because he’s sick and exhausted? Or did he actually look at her as a mother figure? Was he going to be embarrassed about it when he wakes up or will he accept it? Would Bruce be okay with it? Or would he be angry at her for it? Would he-

“Marinette, honey, are you okay?” Bruce asks softly, she kisses Jason’s head before standing and burrowing herself into Bruce’s chest. Realistically, there was no reason for him to be mad at her about this. Or Jason. It was just hard to combat her thoughts sometimes. Letting out a shaky breath, she looks up at Bruce with a soft smile. 

“I’m fine. I think I’ll take that medicine now.” She says, letting out a happy sigh as Bruce holds her hand and leads her out of the room. 

“Besides the rain, how was your week?” He asks once they’re back in the hallway. She opens her mouth to ramble about how fun it was, until she remembers Jason’s scowl as he talked about the group of boys at school. The way he clung to her when she promised to do something about it. 

“Actually, I was wondering if you’d be against talking to the Principal at Jason’s school. If I could, I’d like to go with. Some boys are picking on him and I promised him I would try to do something about it.” She explains, nearly missing the loving smile Bruce gives her. 

“I’ll set up a meeting for Monday afternoon, how does that sound?” He asks and she nods. 

“That should work.” She says, tilting her head in thought. “If it doesn’t work, I’m going to kick his ass.” She adds. 

“Okay, love, let’s get you that medicine and get you into bed.” Bruce says with a chuckle. Mari smiles and nods, knowing he thinks she’s kidding. She’s not. No one messes with her kid and gets away with it.

Next

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[squishneedsahero]

Maybe It Isn’t all Bad

Awesomest of Them All 2.0

Part 2 of 13

Word Count: 1714

Batman x Batmom!Reader

You know what the bat family needs? Someone to pull them together and give them all the love they deserve. Who better to do that than you? An author rising to stardom in Gotham who catches the eye of a billionaire with your standoffish attitude at a huge social gathering. You are yourself and never pretend to be more or less than that. Plus you're the most stubborn person in the world, refusing to let good things go without reason.

This is a rewrite of my story Awesomest of Them All, I wanted to see how much I've improved over 3 years.

It had been two months since you published your book, and it had taken off. Tons of people loved it and even more had read it. Because of this you were suddenly a popular public figure of Gotham, and of course like all other public figures you were invited to one of the many galas that happen in this city. You hated it. You, y/n l/n the nobody who lived in a shabby apartment and just happened to get lucky with your book. What you wouldn't give to go back to being a nobody so you could spend your Friday night watching Netflix alone on your couch.

Unfortunately you weren't sure how the snobby rich people,who thought they were better than everyone else, would take you rejecting their invitation the first of probably many. But this was a charity gala hosted by Bruce Wayne: play boy, billionaire, and one of the few people present that seems somewhat genuine even if you didn't think he had a single thought behind his eyes. So maybe it wasn't all bad cause all the rich people were donating to charity and Bruce usually made sure the money went somewhere good.

You had worn an elegant gown, preferring it to the ones that let your ass hang out the bottom. The dress was fabulously elegant and made you feel like a queen. You had paired it with your your highest high heels, stilettos that you could stab someone with if it came down to it. So far the night had been filled with pointless conversations and lots and lots of introductions, all while dancing a waltz.

Lets be honest you won't remember most of the new people you had met, you could've met the Queen of England and not have known it. You didn't remember not because you had been drinking, even if you had thought about it many times, but because there were so many people that wanted to get you and your new found popularity under their thumb and gain through you.

You had finally gotten a break by standing by the buffet table and eating the food they seemed to be letting go to waste. If nothing else you would singlehandedly make sure the food didn't get wasted. You kept trying to think of an excuse to go home, but so far couldn't think of anything. Your planning was interrupted when yet another person came up to you, except his face is somewhat familiar. "Hi," you say after you hurriedly swallow a bite of food.

"Hello, Miss (y/n) (l/n)," he begins, knowing your name but you not knowing his, "may I have this dance?" He asks, great another dance luckily you were used to being on your feet thanks to waitressing otherwise you'd be worried about them falling off with all this meaningless dancing. Why couldn't rich people be more fun with their dancing, most of them were white, playing some pop songs, and the Cupid Shuffle could only make things better.

"Yes, Mister..." you pause as you try to place him, you know you know him but you'd seen so many faces like that tonight that it was a blur.

"Wayne," He finishes for you.

"I'd love to dance with you Mr.Wayne," you lie through that smile that was plastered to your face. You offer your hand and wish desperately you had taken your chance to escape when you'd had it only moments before.

He takes the hand you offer to him and leads you out to the dance floor, waltzing yet again, at least you didn't have to lead cause you had no idea what you were doing. "My son read your book," he begins, trying to start up a friendly conversation, "he's keeps trying to convince me to read it."

"That's nice," you respond awkwardly, what were you supposed to do? Try to convince him to read it too? Hell no, you are not going to act like an airhead and promote yourself.

"He doesn't know that I've already read it," Bruce says. You laugh before you can stop yourself, you almost apologize but he laughs as well. "I enjoyed reading it, it was very well written." Maybe he did actually have real thoughts in his head unlike how the media portrayed him.

"Thank you," you say a slight blush making is way onto your cheeks. He was quite attractive after all and here he was complimenting you. The smile on your lips becomes more genuine as the two of you continue dancing, making light conversation, and surprisingly it was quite enjoyable.

Before you know it the party is over. And you'd spent almost half of it dancing with one man. "Thank you for the dance."

"It was my pleasure," he says, and you find yourself blushing for the millionth time that night. Maybe these parties weren't all bad, you'd found a friend you could have intelligent conversations with after all.

You find yourself invited to almost every gala that happens in the city over the next few months and every time Bruce is there the two of you spend most of the time dancing and talking with each other. The conversations between the two of you are pleasant, covering many topics, and most importantly they aren't meaningless like all the other conversations you were forced into at galas.

Bruce would get your opinion on things such as how the money he got for charity should be spent since you had been more recently living among the people he was trying to help. Like you weren't bad off by any means but you hadn't owned a car, relying on bus routes to get around the city and working 40+ hours a week to keep your head above water. You had been better off than many in Gotham but you had been closer to the poverty than Bruce had, even considering his night job. The fact that he genuinely cared and wanted your opinion amazed you. He was the first and probably only friend you made among the one percent at those parties.

Of course the two of you didn't only talk business, other more casual subjects came up. The two of you bonding over having dead parents, even if he was more traumatized and your wounds more recent. Then talking about school and how you had decided to skip college in order to pursue writing while he had been homeschooled then traveled the world instead of college, not that either of you were too old for college though. He was was 23-24, still young despite having adopted an 8 almost 9 year old and you were close to the same age as him.

The both of you being young, and single, did lead the two of you to have more than a friendship but that was after nearly a year of just talking at galas. Okay a year of just talking was a lie. It was probably only six months before the two of you found yourselves out in a garden and shared your first kiss. But it was an entire year before he finally asked you out, claiming it was a dare from Dick and to ease the pressure of the press.

You of course called him on those lies and pointed out the fact that there had not been a single other woman in his life since the two of you met. And said the only way you'd go out with him was if he'd, "just admit you like me." Needless to say he did.

That was part of the reason that he was so attracted to you. Despite what he knew about you from the one day he saved you from Joker, you were just unafraid to be yourself. You had never pretended or tried to pretend to fit in at the galas. You'd never been afraid to call him on his shit, even if it had risked your one friendship that made those galas bearable.

To your surprise when you had called him a dumbass for thinking it was acceptable to give a 9 year old unlimited access to the internet he laughed and said you were probably right. Then for some reason he thought it was a good idea to ask you for parenting advice and you told him that was a worse idea. You had less of an idea how to be a parent than he did, the only reason a 9 year old shouldn't have unlimited internet access was because he was a bit young to already get unrealistic expectations from porn. Mainly you had no idea, it just felt weird to turn a kid loose on the internet but then again you'd been a kid who ate mud and called it fun.

So, all the talking and asking opinions and just spending a ton of time together leads to Bruce asking you out. The press saw this coming from miles away and caught you both on your date, not that they didn't have pictures of the two of you hiding from people on a balcony. But an actual date?!? Amazing! All the internet fans were happy for you, the paparazzi loved you and would do anything to get pictures of the two of you.

The two of you became Gotham's it couple overnight but the best thing about it was that it was real. Both of you were blatantly honest, calling each other out when needed and defending each other at other moments. There were no secrets between the both of you and you wouldn't trade that for anything. It was amazing to you that you had finally found a man who saw you as his equal and if anything he was a man known for being a womanizer.

So that's how it all started, in the space of a year the two of you fell in love and were head over heels for each other. Dick played match maker every chance he got, since he adored you for some odd reason. And of course, when you finally met him Alfred approved of you and Bruce being together, the one person able to call him on his shit and have him listen. It was a miracle that Alfred had thought he'd never love to see.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

All Men Have Limits - IV

Character: Dick Grayson x Reader x Bruce Wayne

Summary: A certain bat believes that Y/N is in way over her head, that she’s too naive to act in her best interest. So, whether she wants it or not, the vigilante family is going to help and protect her before she gets herself killed.

Word Count: 3,800+

Previously on…

As Y/N packed her bags, she was also brainstorming her route once she got to her safe house. She’s just stay there for a couple of nights. Then she’d leave town. Gotham wasn’t safe for her right now. And if she was out of city limits, The Court of Owls had less influence. Though she didn’t doubt they’d send an assassin to the other side of the world to hunt her down.

Y/N looked around her extravagant room.

She doubted she’d ever be back here.

Things were getting…complicated.

It was a cruel reminder for why she kept to herself. People meant drama. Drama meant distractions. And distractions meant she wasn’t focused on the task at hand – which was bringing down the corrupt.

Y/N was just zipping up her duffle when there was a knock on her door.

“Come in!” She turned to see Dick walking in.

He eyed her bag. “What are you doing?”

“I was just about to go pack up my equipment in the cave.”

“No, you’re not. You’re staying here,” he confirmed.

She gave him a repulsed look. “Uhh…No, I am not. This mansion is about to be flooded with unidentified members of The Court.”

“Sure is,” Dick smirked. “But I have a solution.”

He held out his hand to show a bracelet. It looked expensive. The band was gold but there was a giant garnet gemstone at the center of it.

Dick handed it to Y/N.

“You shouldn’t have?” Y/N asked with confusion.

“I called in a favor with an old friend. She’s a magician.”

Y/N tried not to laugh, “A magician?”

Dick gave her a playful glare. “Yeah, a magician. But it’s not tricks and gimmicks. She knows actual magic.” He tapped the gemstone. “When you wear this, you’ll look like a different person. It’s a cloaking spell.”

“Why didn’t you guys suggest this right away?”

Dick sighed. “Bruce isn’t fond of metas and…magic.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier for me to just leave?”

“I would rather have you in disguise with our eyes on you, than have you out of reach,” he explained softly. “When you’re wearing this, all of us will still be able to see the real you. But not anyone else.”

“I don’t want to go to this stupid gala. I’ll just wear this and stay in my room or the cave.”

“Well…that’s the other part,” Dick cleared his throat awkwardly. “You’re gonna be my date.”

Y/N blinked in surprise. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone asked her on any kind of date. Not that Dick even asked. He more so told her.

“That wasn’t exactly a request, Dick.”

“Everyone knows everyone. If you’re by yourself, people will ask too many questions. But if you’re my date, no one will think twice why you’re there.”

“I-I don’t have anything to wear…”

Dick laughed lightly. “Alfred already sent out for a dress and shoes for you.”

“…why do I feel like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman?”

“Come on, Y/N. You know it’s not like that.”

Y/N remained annoyed.

“I’ll be here at your door around 8 tonight, k?” Dick gave her a soft smirk.

“Fine.”

———————

This was just another night for Dick. He’d been dragged to enough of these stupid galas to know the drill: wide smiles, forced laughter, and lay the charm on real thick. With the way this family handled their identities, they could’ve been a family of actors instead of vigilantes.

Dick straightened his cufflinks as he made his way to Y/N’s room.

He could hear the murmur’s of the guest from the ballroom, proving just how many people were attending for the sound to reach him in such a giant manor.

There was a part of Dick that half expected Y/N to be in her usual baggy sweaters and leggings when he opened the door. A silent protest that she wasn’t going to be anyone’s arm candy tonight.

Dick knew he didn’t give her much choice.

When his family had been discussing the situation, Dick tried to off to stay hidden out of sight with Y/N. But Alfred was having none of it. They all knew he took these events rather seriously. Especially one that was started and named after Bruce’s mother.

Dick knocked and turned his back to the door, he double checked there were no guests exploring where they shouldn’t be.

When the door opened, Dick turned around and was stunned to silence.

“Is this bracelet working on you or do I really look that bad?”

Y/N shifted as he stared at her like she’d cast a spell on him.

Dick was seeing Y/N. That was for sure.

“I see the dress fit,” he finally spoke.

What the hell was the matter with him? That’s really what he chose to say?

Though Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the comment. “That it does.”

Dick woke up a bit and cleared his throat. “You look…beautiful.”

He never had a problem charming women. So why is he suddenly talking like a total cave man?

“Don’t look so surprised,” Y/N call him out teasingly. “Just because I dress like a scrub every day doesn��t mean I don’t know how to clean up.”

His brow furrowed at the first comment. “You’ve never looked like a scrub, Y/N.”

OK. OK. He was getting back to his normal self.

“Well…” Y/N broke eye contact from her bashfulness. “Thank you.”

Dick held out the hook of his arm. “Shall we?”

Y/N inhaled, “Right.”

As soon as she hooked her hand onto Dick’s bicep, a wave of relief washed over her. She wasn’t doing this alone; she was doing this with him at her side.

“So, what’s the the plan here?” Y/N asked nervously.

“The plan is to blend in. Don’t talk to any press. And…” He smirked. “It wouldn’t hurt to try and have a good time.”

“Right. I’ll try to do that while I’m in a room possibly filled with people who want me dead…” Y/N sighed.

“Not ‘possibly.’ There will be.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him. “Way to make me feel better, Dick.”

He laughed. “You’ll be fine. I’ll be with you the whole time. Damian, Tim, and Bruce will be there, too. And somehow Alfred convinced Jason to even make an appearance. You’re not in this alone, Y/N.”

“Mhmm,” Y/N answered as they arrived to the party. She didn’t bother hiding that she was still extremely nervous and on edge.

“I did really mean it,” Dick told her quietly.

His tone made Y/N tear her eyes away from the party to look at him. “Really mean what?”

“You look beautiful.”

His words didn’t fumble this time. He was confident and clear, leaving no room for doubt or insincerity.

Y/N gave him a shy smile.

“I’m guessing a drink would make this a bit easier, huh?” Dick offered.

“Yes. Yes, it would.”

Dick guided her to the nearest bar.

All the staff knew what the Wayne family looked like. Which meant the bartended skipped over all other guests and b-lined for Dick when he requested a drink, and then looked to Y/N to order what she wanted.

There was loud laughter from a group of people near them. Followed by a voice that Y/N thought she knew, but still sounded a bit off.

When Y/N looked over, she realized it was Bruce talking to a group of guests, who were absolutely fawning over him. He was smiling and laughing, and taking very frequent sips of his drink.

This was Bruce Wayne: the character. Charming playboy, debatable narcissist, and spoiled brat. But in the eyes of Gotham’s elite, he could do no wrong.

Y/N wondered if Bruce had ever considered bringing her as his date. ‘Don’t you start,’ said a voice inside her head.

Dick followed her eye line.

“Doesn’t it make you nauseous watching him like this?” Y/N mumbled.

“Not Dick. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Jason answered.

Dick and Y/N turned to see Jason and Damian.

Yes, Dick adopted Bruce’s charm. But he didn’t rip himself into pieces, building characters that were unrecognizable to the people who actually knew him. Dick’s charm was a part of his personality. His flirtations came naturally. But he only used them on people he intended on building a genuine connection with. (Though Nightwing was guilty of using said charm on targets during missions a few times.)

Y/N looked around for Tim and saw him talking to what appeared to be serious businessman. He was the only one carrying on the legacy at Wayne Enterprises. If any of the boys needed to be here, it was Tim.

“Shouldn’t you guys be making rounds or something?” Y/N asked.

Jason shrugged. “People only cared about us when we were cute kids. Now we’re just spoiled adults who are the product of nepotism.” He smirked down at Damian. “But this one isn’t out of the clear yet.”

“Don’t remind me,” Damian groaned. “At the last one, a woman pinched my cheeks as if I was some toddler.”

“I thought I was about to watch him murder someone,” Dick added.

“I wanted to,” Damian clarified.

Dick started talking to Jason about something.

It provided Y/N the perfect window with the youngest Wayne. 

“I’ll sneak you alcohol if you do a mercy killing for me,” she offered Damian.

The boy looked amused but gave no indication that a deal was made.

“Your date that awful?” Jason teased as he smirked at Dick, who ignored him.

“Do you have the hearing of a dog? Fuckin’ Christ.”

The four of them stuck together for most of the night. Tim would touch base with them every so often. But he kept getting dragged away by board members or partners or anyone that wanted to kiss the ass of the future head of Wayne Enterprises.

Dick and Y/N were laughing at Jason about something when Dick’s face suddenly fell as he spotted something on the other side of the room.

“God damn it, Damian.” Dick hissed as he put his drink down on the nearest counter. He turned to Y/N. “I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

Y/N just nodded.

But then Jason seemed to spot the youngest brother as well.

“I should probably help him and do some damage control,” Jason sighed.

Y/N laughed and nodded for him to go ahead.

“Now you can see why I avoid these shit shows.”

She laughed but pushed him away, “Go help Dick.”

Now that Y/N was alone, her senses was hyper focused on the party around her.

As she reached for her drink, she noticed that her surrounding area had gone eerily quiet. And she felt far too many eyes on her. There were hushed whispers and even gasps. 

“Would you care to dance?” A voice asked from behind her.

Y/N’s entire body tensed.

She turned to see Bruce waiting patiently for her response.

But the look on his face was that of a man she didn’t know.

Bruce had a charming glitter in his eyes and his smirk was arrogant.

Y/N looked around at their audience, then at the dance floor. She was desperately trying to remember the last time she danced with someone.

“Umm…I don’t really know how–” her words came out so slowly.

“How to dance?” Bruce offered.

Y/N nodded.

“You just need a good partner,” he reassured her as he held out a hand.

‘What a fucking line,’ Y/N thought as she tried not to roll her eyes. She half expected him to add a wink.

Bruce guided her to the center of the dance floor and then pulled her closer with his right hand while his left wrapped around her hand.

Y/N wasn’t expecting him to pull her so close, but their body’s were now pressed together.

Bruce moved his mouth to her ear. “Relax,” he murmured.

“It’s hard to relax when you’re using me to set up your new flavor of the week,” she criticized. “Everyone is watching us.”

Bruce may be used to such scrutiny, but Y/N had zero experience with it. And it was safe to say she hated it.

“They’re not looking at me. They’re looking at you,” Bruce corrected.

“A woman who’s not even me. It’s just the dress.”

“I’m happy you like it, seeing as I picked it out,” he commented smugly.

Y/N’s chest tightened at the revelation.

“I see the real you right now, and that’s who I asked to dance.”

Y/N wanted to make a run for it. She didn’t want Bruce with an audience. She just wanted him to herself and she wanted him as he really was.

But her brain shut down for just this song and she followed her heart.

If Y/N concentrated hard enough, she could ignore all the invasive gawking. If she closed her eyes, it was just her and Bruce. So, Y/N tucked her head into his shoulder and let Bruce glide them across the floor.

Somehow she felt that Bruce was allowing himself this as well.

One song was not enough for what they both needed and wanted.

But Y/N would take what she could.

Though what she did not expect was to finally pull away to see Bruce looking utterly heartbroken. As if pulling away from her was the hardest thing he’d ever have to do. And for the first time, Y/N legitimately considered that Bruce might want the same thing as she did.

He’ll just never act on his feelings.

If Y/N had blinked, she could’ve missed the moment of honesty and vulnerability Bruce had colored all across his face – bleeding from his eyes.

Because, the next moment, the character was back.

As the party clapped for the band, someone called Bruce’s name. And their locked stare was broken.

And just like that, Y/N was snapped back to reality as if someone threw a bucket of freezing water over her.

Now that Bruce had moved on, no one bothered to keep their voices down. And the upperclass women of Gotham made it loud and clear that they were not pleased with Y/N’s presence.

“Seems he’s found his next prey.”

“She looks half his age, of course he would go for her. Typical man.”

“She’ll eventually learn like we all did.”

“I still say he was the best lay I ever had.”

“Remember when we both slept with him in the same week?”

Now Y/N wasn’t just brought back to reality – she was put in her place.

Before she could even realize what was happening to stop it, her eyes were filled with tears. She had to get out of there.

“Excuse me,” Y/N whispered desperately and she tried to push her way through the crowd.

As soon as she made it outside, she let out a gasp. The fresh air helped, but it wasn’t enough.

There wasn’t any guests outside, but Y/N didn’t feel a safe enough distance from the party. The gardens and maze were in her peripheral and it took her all of two seconds to decide that would be her safe haven.

She hurried through the maze and prayed that no drunken couples had tried to also sneak away from prying eyes. 

But when Y/N reached the center of the maze, she was alone.

A fountain sat in the middle and the sound of its moving water calmed Y/N down a bit. But even that couldn’t stop her tears from finally escaping.

Y/N sat on the edge of the fountain as she tried to get a hold of herself. She could only imagine what this was doing her makeup that she spent an hour doing. 

‘What a waste,’ she thought.

Her escape was short lived. 

Dick called her name repeatedly from a distance.

Y/N panicked at the idea of him catching her crying. She quickly tried to hide any evidence of tears and pull herself together.

Dick finally caught up and let out a sigh of relief from behind her.

“Y/N, you can’t run off like that,” he tried to tell her.

He opened his mouth to lecture her further, but when he finally made it around the fountain and was facing her, his concern shifted. 

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Nothing,” Y/N struggled to speak without sounding nasally. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. You were crying.”

“I’m fine,” she tried to laugh. “Seriously, Dick.”

But he wasn’t having any of it. He moved to sit next to her on the edge of the fountain. Without hesitating, he wrapped an around her shoulder and pulled her into him.

“Come here,” he muttered softly.

Why did it feel so natural for him to do that? Like he’d done it a million times before?

He rubbed her arms. “Jesus. You’re freezing.”

Then he was taking off his suit jacket and putting it over her shoulders. But he didn’t miss a beat, quickly bringing her back into his arms again.

“Wanna tell me what’s got you so upset?” Dick asked after a few minutes of silently comforting her.

“It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid to me if it made you cry.”

Y/N took in a shaky breath, feeling like she was on the cusp of crying again. “I’m just like the rest of them.”

Dick waited, feeling like she needed to say more before he spoke.

“They were whispering terrible things. But it was everything I already knew. I’m just another stupid girl that managed to convince herself that she was different.”

Dick was silent as he processed his words. It wasn’t hard for him to know Y/N was talking about Bruce, even thought she never uttered his name. 

“I’ve got an idea,” Dick announced. “Let’s ditch this stupid gala. Get out of these clothes. Put on some sweatpants. And I’ll have Alfred order us as much pizza and wings as you want.”

Now Y/N wanted to cry for a completely different reason.

Dick was the sweetest man she’d ever met.

“Sound like a plan?” He asked her when she didn’t respond and instead just stared into his blue eyes.

Y/N nodded.

“We can even invite my good-for-nothing brothers if that’ll make you happy.”

Her first instinct was to say yes. They all amused her beyond belief. Watching the way they all interacted with each other was like watching a reality show. And it was always obvious how much they loved each other deep down – even with Damian, who would rather die than admit such a thing.

But if all of them were included, who knew when Bruce would eventually make an appearance. And Y/N just didn’t think she could be in a room with him again tonight. 

“Just you and me,” she clarified.

That seemed to please Dick and he nodded. 

“Just you and me,” he confirmed as he offered her a hand up. 

When they started walking back to the manor, Dick wrapped an arm around her shoulder, keeping her close to his side.

“I’m going to ask you a question and I need you to be completely honest with me,” but she said it through a smile.  

Dick looked a bit nervous, but nodded. “Alright.”

“Do you know how to order takeout on your own?”

Dick threw his head back and laughed. “How dare you!”

He pinched her waist, making her yelp. But he didn’t let her escape his hold. “Yes, I do. In fact, when I’m at my own place, I live off takeout. And let me tell you, no one can order food quite like I can. Thank you very much.”  

Once they reached the second floor of the manor, the two of them parted ways to changed out of their fancy clothes.

Y/N washed her face, scrubbing the layers of makeup off. But before she could rid herself of the evidence, she noticed the smeared mascara and eyeliner. 

Words could not describe the relief of putting on baggy sweatpants and a hoodie and fluffy socks after wearing a fitted gown and high heels.

30 minutes later, just as promised, Dick was bringing up a huge pizza and a box of wings to Y/N’s bedroom.

They ate on the floor. Dick managed to light the fireplace that was in there, because Y/N didn’t know what to do with the thing. The television was on, but neither of them were watching it. It was simply white noise.

Two hours later, Y/N was laughing so hard at a story Dick was telling her that she had tears in her eyes and her stomach hurt.

“I don’t believe you!”

“I’m not kidding. Ask Jason. He took my clothes and I was ass naked, running through the streets of Gotham. I wanted to kill him.”

Y/N grabbed another wing and got sauce all over her face.

“What?” She asked when Dick was watching her with adoration. “Do I have sauce on my face?”

He tried to hide his smile. “Nope.”

She knew he was lying and then purposely smeared more sauce around her lips. “How about now? Do I have anything now?”

“No. Nothing.”

“On a scale of 1 to 10, how attractive am I right now?” Y/N laughed as she wiped the sauce off her face with napkins.

“11,” Dick responded without hesitating.

The playfulness was sucked out of the room when they both heard how serious his tone was.

Y/N’s face went somber as she looked down at the floor. “I’m sorry I didn’t dance with you.” She laughed lightly, “I’m a lousy date, huh?”

“That’s not true,” he immediately shot down. “This is the most fun I’ve had…” His words died out when he realized he couldn’t even remember. “Well, it’s the most fun I’ve had in awhile.”

“Me too,” she replied with a quiet sweetness.

Through her full-body laughter, she had moved closer to Dick without realizing it.

He glanced at her lips. He just couldn’t help himself. 

The thing about Dick wearing his heart on his sleeve was that it was nearly impossible for him to hide his feelings, his desires. It was all in those blue eyes of his, waiting to easily be read by someone.  

And while Y/N looked at him looking at her, she felt beautiful. Because that was all Dick could possibly think as he stared at her.

Neither knew who leaned in first. Perhaps this was their dance that they weren’t able to have earlier.

But they made up for it by sharing an impassioned kiss now. 

Dick’s lips were softer than Y/N expected. His hands gripped her waist possessively, making it very clear what he wanted – but still being ever so gentle and soft with his touches.

One of Dick’s hands moved from her waist up her back to tangle his fingers in her hair. He tugged on the strands and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss.

They both could slightly taste the pizza and wings on each other’s lips, but neither of them cared at all.

The kiss didn’t last long enough for either of their liking.

But Y/N pulled away anyways, gasping for air a bit.

“I’m sorry,” she sighed. 

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he whispered through hooded eyes as he brushed some hair away from her face. “I’ve been wanting to do that for awhile,” he added with a smirk.

But Y/N wasn’t really sorry about the kiss. 

She was sorry because she knew that things were far more complicated than ever.

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

Part V

Happy Valentine’s Day!!! 

Please, please, please write me a book report of what he thought of this chapter. It will be your VDay gift to me 😘

[legends-live-in-memories]

Picture Perfect

AYO! its me back with more content for the second time this week while i ignore my other wips again. this is a lil gift for @queen-o-leen who i promised wholesome content for! I hope you like it!

Timinette/Timari Oneshot 1.9K words (not related to my other timari oneshots)

Summary:

“Tim spends a nice day in a park in Paris and takes a picture of a pretty girl.

He somehow gets an almost date out of it.”

no warnings this time. completely family-friendly. I know i surprise myself with this one too.

without further ado

He would be the last to admit that Jason was right and that time away was what he needed at this point in life but it can’t be ignored that, for the first time in possibly three years, Tim was having a wonderful day. He was having a wonderful week actually. After one too many unsuccessful cold cases and the simmering anxiety of off-world missions, his family, primarily Jason, for some reason, demanded that he take some time off and away from his unusual brand of normal. How that meant being sent across the Atlantic Ocean to Paris of all places, he wasn’t entirely sure. Alfred probably had a hand in that decision given that, as part of his forced vacation, Tim was not allowed to actually plan any of it. Him. Timothy Jackson Drake. The guy who stalked and manoeuvred his way into Batman’s house and team. The guy who tracked and found said man when the universe thought he was dead but was actually drifting through time. Yeah, Tim was not pleased about being led blind on his vacation. 

At least Paris was a nice city. And he brought his camera. He figured he could use this time to get back into old hobbies and what better hobby to start up again in the city of love than photography? He’s taken pictures of every tourist attraction worth visiting by his second day and began to take candid shots of people and animals. Would Damian like the animal pictures? Maybe, if they came from someone who wasn’t Tim. Is he going to try and give them to him anyways? Absolutely not. He liked his liver where it is, thank you very much. They would serve as great bribing material however. But that’s a thought for another day. 

Right now he was working on capturing what could possibly be described as the stereotypical outing with friends. He’s sitting along some bushes near the entrance of a park and staring at a group of teens his own age hanging around. He spots a brunette with thick curls of hair animatedly speaking with a guy in a vibrant cap. She’s waving a camera herself, and he appreciates her taste in equipment. Her eyes spark with fox-like mischief while the cap guy has a peaceful aura about him; like an old turtle. Next he sees a blonde, her hair is in a ridiculously high ponytail and she’s in a deep conversation with a red head off to the side of the whole group; her words are rushing out of her and she’s a buzzing bee with excitement. Another blond is in the area, but he sits in a broad patch of sun possibly napping with an open book on his chest. Very cat-like Tim supposes. He barely pays them more than a second of thought however. No. 

His focus is on the quaint beauty directly in his line of sight. She’s poised up against the giant tree trunk with a sketchbook in her lap and pencils surrounding her. Her hair hangs by her shoulders in twintails and it’s a colour so dark it seems to absorb the shade of the tree. She’s scribbling furiously on the page before her and her tongue is slightly peaking out to the side. Her forehead is creased with stress lines and her shoulders hunch slightly over her frame. She’s the vision of deep concentration and dedication and Tim would be a fool not to capture her. He’s gotten wide shots of her companions but now he wants to focus on her. 

Looking through the lens of his camera he zooms in on her profile. When his camera focuses, he spots a constellation of freckles across her cheeks, barely there, almost blending in with her complexion but Tim is nothing if not hypervigilant. He goes to take another photo when a bug flies into view. It’s a ladybug. It lands precariously on the tip of her nose and it’s just the thing that breaks her out of her work-induced trance. Tim is watching her now, long forgetting to click the shutter. Her eyes cross as she stares intently at the black-spotted creature and its presence seems to amuse her. She’s giggling to herself, as if sharing an inside joke with the bug and reaches a slim finger to swipe the insect gently from her nose. She inspects it and smiles a smile so soft that not even a feather could compare. He feels like an intruder. More so than one who takes pictures of cute strangers in public. 

Coming back to his senses, he takes another picture, the final picture, and lowers the camera from his face. He looks back at his temporary muse and finds that she is already looking at him. Her head tilts in confusion. Apprehension. Possibly a bit of fear. Which is valid given that Tim was pointing a camera at her from across the public park. What should he do though to quell her fears? 

He felt his face lift into a grin; he didn’t need to look at himself to know it was awkward and forced. A shrug of his shoulders and a flimsy wave of the camera in his hand was the only thing he did. Before he could begin to stumble over himself in apology, however, she surprised him. With a cautious hunch, her shoulders brought up to her ears, and an embarrassed smile to match his own, she slowly flips her sketchbook around and he comes face to face with, well, his face. It was a portrait of him. She had drawn a portrait of him. And she was showing him. Feeling embolden, he flips his camera to show her the screen but she’s too far away. He gets up on unsteady legs, cramped from his uncomfortable position, and begins a slow stride towards her. She meets him in the middle.

“Hi.” He barely speaks those words. They’re more like an exhale or a sigh of relief that he hadn’t scared her off. 

“Hi, I hope you don’t mind the drawing.” Her voice is high and light. Like a spring breeze. She’s daintily waving at him and he sees that her fingers are rough, and calloused. Unexpected but he finds it rather charming. Before he could get another word in, she’s off like an engine. “I just saw you there, and you had your camera so I figured you were taking pictures of us and thought that if you were then you wouldn’t mind me sketching you in kind but I should have asked and I’m sorry for breaching your privacy—” 

“Wait, slow down.” He fears that if he hadn’t interrupted her when he did she would run out of oxygen. Did she even breathe during her spiel? A voice in his head, that sounds like Cass, utters a soft ‘pot, kettle’ and okay, he sees a lot of himself in her mile-a-minute style of speaking. 

“No need to apologize. I’m flattered, truly. You were right, I was taking pictures of you. And your friends!” he hastily adds that last part. He turns his camera so the display screen faces her and he feels himself hold his breath in anticipation. 

A blush rises to her cheeks, red like the ladybug that interrupted her. He quite likes that colour on her. His eyes drift to the sketch and he’s further impressed by her skill. She has an eye for detail. He notices a bird in the background. It’s a robin. That piques his interest and lights a flicker of fear within him. 

“May I ask,” he begins slowly, unsure of what that little addition could mean. Did she know? How could she? Was his identity compromised?

“Why did you draw a robin in the background? It’s lovely but I’m curious,” he finishes. He’s going to play dumb until he has more information. She seems taken off guard by the question and raises her shoulders to her ears again in an embarrassed hunch.

“Well,” she starts, but she seems unsure and the words die on her tongue. She tries again.

“I just saw it fly by and then it landed behind you. So I thought ‘why not?’ and drew it. It seemed fitting.” She wasn’t looking him in the eye and now he felt kind of felt like a jerk for baselessly accusing some random girl. Of course it was just a coincidence. This bat-paranoia was going to be the end of him one day. It’s by sheer miracles and luck why it hasn’t already. 

“Oh, no worries. It just surprised me because it’s my favourite bird.” Right. Lie to the pretty French girl. But what else could he do? Tell her the truth?

“Then it’s a cool coincidence, huh?” She seems encouraged by that tidbit of information.

“Yeah, pure luck on your part.”

“What?” She seems more startled at that than Tim thinks she should be but before he can think deeper into it she speaks again and he would be a fool to not give her his undivided attention.

“Why did you take a picture of me with the ladybug? If you don’t mind me asking.” That stumps him because, to be honest, he does not know why himself. It just felt right. So he tells her as such.

“Well that would be another coincidence because ladybugs are my favourite insects.” She gives him a full smile alongside that statement and the brilliance of it almost blinds him. He wants to capture that smile for eternity. 

The thought strikes him. He doesn’t want this moment to end. He knows by the Friday of next week he’ll be flying back to Gotham where it’s business as usual and Red Robin won’t have time for commitments and puppy love. But right now? Right now Tim Drake is on vacation with a week and half left and all the time in the world to entertain the idea of a spring romance. Making the decision, he goes for it and takes the chance.

“I was getting a bit hungry. Do you know anywhere that’s good to eat at?” It’s an offer, open to interpretation. If she just lists some place, he knows where her interests lay. If she offers to escort him somewhere, then she’s taken the bait for exactly what it is, an invitation for more; whatever more is. He hopes she takes the bait. 

“Yes I do actually! My parents own a bakery just outside the park.” Her enthusiasm is uplifting and the offer of a place so personal is a good sign in Tim’s book. “Let me show the way, and I could join you if you would like.”

“Perfect. That’s wonderful. It will be my treat since you’re going out of your way on my account.”

“Nonsense. Like I said, it’s my parents’ bakery. They’ll be more than happy to give some complimentary snacks.” She loops her arm around his and begins to drag him to the park gate. She’s strong and her grip is firm and Tim feels lightheaded at the ease with which she pulls him. He can’t help but be swept up in the tides that is this girl. 

“I’m Tim, by the way. Tim Drake.” He offers his name, something he should have done at the beginning.

She looks back at him over her shoulder and he’s caught up in the oceans of her eyes. They’re alight with joy. 

“Nice to meet you, Tim. I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” 

“Nice to meet you too.”

They’re almost by the bakery now, he can smell the fresh baked goods from here, and he can’t wait to sit down and get to know this girl better. Maybe get her number by the end of their lunch.

Yeah. Tim was having a wonderful day.

[stxleslyds]

I have read your thought about the Batfamily, now I really want to know your thought about the one who started it, the Batman himself. We can't ignore the fact that Bruce is abusing his children, but there's also some moments where he's being a good father to them. But some of his act doesn't make sense.

He's beating his children, then calling them his son after. He act like a mad man after Damian's death (yeah, they did Jason dirty in here), feeling sorrow and desperately wanting to ressurect him, but then neglecting him continously in the future. I didn't know much about Cass, Bruce seems to always be a good father to her. But her fans once pointed that Bruce (or DC) is too hard on her to not killing/too soft on the others, because the other batkids has killed some villains while under Batman and still got to continue putting on their costumes.

What is exactly Bruce character? How is his relationship with every one of his children?

I feel like Batman can't be in a good relationship with one of his children without destroying his relationship with the other. I always love parents and children relationship in comics, but with batfamily sometimes it just so 'fanon-y' and some are hurtful.

I stopped reading Batman book for a long time. And come back reading that wedding and city of bane arc, because I want to know how they killed Alfred. And honestly those run are terrible. The issue basically just a batcat fanservice, with the worst Batman and Catwoman characterization ever. The batkids didn't even got many appearance and treated awfully as if they are just extras, even if they all are capable and have connection with Alfred.

Hey there Anon!

My thoughts on Batman and Bruce have changed over the last few years, he wasn’t the character that introduced me to DC comics but what I got to read from him at the time seemed good. As time went by, I started to feel like the whole concept of Batman was overrated and he kinda tired me in entertainment such as movies and all that. He never truly was a character that I actually liked so by the time that I read Under the Red Hood I knew that I liked Dick and Jason better than Bruce.

Batman was interesting but I was completely indifferent about Bruce. That whole thing changed around the time that the New 52 was sort of ending, there I started to heavily dislike Bruce and then that turned into pure hate. Now, I am just tired of the guy and every time that he appears in Dick or Jason content my day is ruined.

I hate that DC has been writing Bruce as an abusive and manipulative person and father to his “kids”, he has done a lot of wrong to them in comic history but all went to shit (in current comics) when Bruce tried to manipulate Jason into reliving the day that he died and his resurrection in Batman and Robin vol2. #20 and when he beat Dick and manipulated him into becoming a spy after telling him that he had told everyone that he was dead in Nightwing vol.3 #30.

Bruce was a horrible human being in the pre-New 52 timeline too sometimes, mostly towards Dick but in a way, it felt like Dick was able time and time again to get away from him a little bit. Now none of his kids are given the opportunity to turn their backs on Bruce, they are kept in his surroundings no matter how abusive he becomes towards them.

My biggest problem with Bruce’s abusiveness is the fact that the writers never treat it like he acts in an abusive way, they never make him apologize or have an internal discussion where he realises that he was in the wrong. “Bruce is a horrible person to his sons but it doesn’t matter because he is right and he is Batman so that’s that”, that’s the message that I feel DC is selling us. Bruce never receives punishment or is called out for his behaviour, Dick was never able to tell Bruce that what he did to him was unforgivable, he never got the chance to explain to anyone that he didn’t play dead, and when he came back from Spyral he took all the shit from his “family” himself.

Sometimes DC does something even worse, they try to hide Bruce’s neglect with things that never happened like they did with the Ric thing in Dick’s case. Dick was passed around from villain to villain when he was most vulnerable and at the end of it all DC had the guts to say that Batman had been watching over Dick all the time. Like, why lie in such a blatant way? Does Bruce enjoy watching his son suffer from a far or was he too much of a coward to tell Dick that he was a shit father, got stuck in a hole and then decided to play “Cat and Bat” with Selina instead of caring for any of his children?

The situation with Damian’s death and resurrection was a whole thing that was meant to prove that Bruce loved Damian and considered him his son. But in their effort to make Bruce look like a good father to Damian they completely destroyed his relationship with his other kids and that was also the start of Bruce referring to Damian as his ONLY son. And like you said after Damian was resurrected Bruce ended up neglecting him afterwards which ultimately led Damian to run away.

His relationship with Cass and Duke is something that I cannot explore because I am not into those characters and they are involved in books that I am not interested in. So I cannot say anything about that.

With Tim it’s complicated because I feel like his relationship with him was never actually father/son it was more like mentor/mentee and that seemed to work better for them, ever since they started the whole family thing Bruce started to act a little bit too rough towards Tim and that ended with Bruce punching Tim during the “City of Bane” arc. Bruce never apologised or was shown realising his mistake, but DC made sure to explain that Bruce was going through a rough time so that’s why he did it. It was pure rubbish and I dislike it a lot.

I answered an ask a while ago about how I thought Dick and Jason could become family the way that DC treats the “Batfamily” within comics and I came up with the idea of the “Dickfamily” because I felt like DC made a big mistake the moment they revolved the Bat family around Bruce and not Dick. Bruce is a character that is known for being lonely and for being surrounded by darkness that he only manages to escape through the light of Robin (Dick Grayson because he was the first), he was always depicted as someone who is hard to work with and considers his teammates only co-workers and not friends. He is a difficult person to connect with, so why on earth did DC come up with a family surrounding that man? (I actually know the answer to that question and it is: money, DC did it to sell more comics under the Batman name but we are going to forget about that here, let me be petty).

Why would DC make it all about a man that doesn’t connect or goes out of his way to say that he “works alone” when Dick Grayson is standing right there? DC hates that they created a character like Dick because he is just better than Bruce at everything, he just is, he is better family to Alfred, Jason, Tim and Damian, he was even written as a better father to Damian than Bruce ever was!

Bruce is just not a people person or a person that forms strong bonds with people. And that makes the whole “Batfamily” concept suffer and come off as something forced that doesn’t actually work.

Tom King was one of the writers that tried to kill the concept of the “Batfamily” with Bruce and Selina becoming a couple and by continuously saying that Selina was who was the most important person in Bruce’s life and the one that made him a better person. All Tom King did with that is make fans and non-fans of the “Batfamily” feel rage. Like, I might not like the “Batfamily” but there is no way that Selina comes first to Alfred, Dick or Damian, there is just no way and if that were actually true then that’s boring.

All the writers that have pushed the “Batfamily” concept (try) do it in a way that makes it look grand and of actual essence but without putting any work on it, if you ask me the “Batfamily” (if there has to be one) should only include Bruce, Alfred (he do be dead though), Dick, Tim, Cass and Damian (I suppose Duke too, I don’t know much about him). The “Batfamily” has to be small because that way you can actually build relationships and make them matter. Having Kate, Steph, Jason and so many others involved in a concept that was made to fit around Bruce looks stupid! Bruce has had almost zero connection to Kate and Steph in the last ten years and Bruce’s “relationship” with Jason is a complete joke!

Bruce is just not the character that is meant to be surrounded by too much people, and he is not a good person towards his family so the whole ass concept should be thrown to the trash and finally let it die. But money is important and if there is something that DC will never stop doing, is milking Batman for content that can be (sometimes) pretty basic.

All in all, I think Bruce sucks and that his “kids” shouldn’t be dragged back to him ever again or at least for a long while. All of them would actually benefit from not being involved with anything relating to Batman. Dick could benefit from Bruce and other Bat-related characters staying away from him and letting him live his life in Bludhaven. And Jason? My sweet Chonky? He would be in such a better place if Bruce disappeared from his life, imagine the actually good books we would have if Jason was free to act the way he was meant to do as the Red Hood…

(We saw a little bit of that in the back up story of Detective Comics by Rosenberg, Batman is still involved but he and Jason are definitely not on the same side of the story! So excited for Task Force Z!)

I don’t know If al that I just said answers your question but I hope you have a fantastic week Anon!

[oreo-bixch]

I need to air out my brain so have some of my

Timkon headcanons

Kon developed a crush first. He really tried not to, but just couldn't stop himself. It was out of his control, completely smitten before he could register it

Tim just thought of them as close friends. Ironic how he's so smart and yet so oblivious to his own feelings. It wasn't until Kon came out as bi that he took a step back and realized that it was strange just how happy he was to know Kon wasn't straight.

If it were Bart coming out he'd be like "hey, nice bro" but when Kon did it he found himself thinking "omg omg omg he likes guys?? He likes guys??? Omg I'm a guy, that means he could like me. Omg wow that's so wild wow...now wait a damn minute-"

It was about 3 months of mutual pining until they finally confessed

Altho they definitely told Cassie

Poor Cassie was itching to just tell them already but she swore she wouldn't, and she's a very reliable person, would literally take a secret to the grave. She spent 3 months sitting back watching Tim and Kon pine after each other while knowing how they felt. It was torture

Meanwhile Bart was oblivious lmao

Bart's a great friend but he's not so good with secrets. He's got a little problem where he speaks before he thinks

Finally Kon made the first move...well kinda

He was sooo ready to just tell Tim in person, and then he settled on maybe a phone call, actually no, a text might work better...or maybe he'll just wait another week

And so he decided to have Cassie do it for him, what can I say, our boy Kon is afraid of rejection

It's bad enough Clark didn't wanna be his dad, what if Tim didn't wanna be his bf? That'd be harsh

And so Cassie called Tim up one evening and spilled the beans, which was a huge relief for her, and Tim was pleasantly surprised

He was also freaking out

He didn't know what to do, he wanted to call Kon immediately and tell him that he felt the same way, that he wanted to be more than friends, to be boyfriends. But then he collected himself, decided he wanted to tell him in person. Someone's gotta put on the brave face

So he texted Kon, asked if he was free to hang out at the Manor, talk abt a little something that Cassie brought up.

Kon was so nervous but he agreed and the next day he went over to the Manor.

Usually Conner was really chill with the Batfam, the Manor was practically a second home, but this time he was hella awkward. Mans was nervous

But they sat down in Tim's bed and talked. They talked abt everything, how long they've felt that way, how much they've been wanting to tell each other, when they first knew, I mean everything.

Kon asked what this meant, what this made them? And Tim said whatever he wanted

Kon had come out just 3 months prior to this and in a way, this was Tim's coming out. It was all so new for them, and it was nerve-wracking and exciting and crazy. But they were ready, and so they decided they would be boyfriends

Idk I guess that's how it works but anyway

Cassie was sooo happy for them and could finally spill all the beans

"omg FINALLY!! I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS YOU GUYS HAVE NO IDEA HOW HARD IT WAS TO KEEP QUIET ABT IT ALL"

And then Bart's just there like

"wait, Cassie knew? You told Cassie but not me??" >:/

Either way their friends were super happy for them

Tim told the Batfam abt a week later and everyone was super supportive and sweet about it. The Batfam actually likes Conner so they were excited for them

Alfred saw it coming a mile away, but he's happy for Tim since Conner's a good kid. A little obnoxious but they're a good fit

Dick was so happy for them, he likes all of Tim's friends and he knew for a while that they were a little closer than most. He accepted Conner into the family with open arms bc he's the best, like what do you expect

Jason was like "damn, didn't know u were bi. Cool tho, have fun dating ur annoying ass friend"

That's the extent of Jason's brotherly love

Damian was similar in that sense, he blatantly told Tim to his face that "Kent could do better but I suppose that's great news for you"

Bruce was happy asf for his son, being bi himself he was really supportive and proud of him. Plus Conner wasn't all that bad, yea he knocked over that expensive vase that one time and he's always yelling during sleepovers and he nearly ran over their cat that other time but hey, he's a good kid.

Babs and Cass and Duke were all happy for Tim too, Steph found out a few months later just bc her and Tim are exes. Not that there's bad blood between them, things just get a little awkward sometimes.

Kon didn't tell his family until about 2 months into their relationship. Except for Jon, he found out the same week but was sworn to secrecy.

Kon was really nervous to come out and tell his family bc he didn't know how Clark or Lex would react. He wasn't too worried abt Lois, he knew she would be supportive. But Clark and him were constantly at each other's throats and Lex wasn't all that good at listening or connecting to Kon.

Despite his daddy issues tho, both dads were really accepting of Kon and we're happy for him and Tim. Clark gave Kon the biggest hug and assured him that no matter how much they fought, he'd always be there for him. Lex also, surprisingly, hugged Conner and told him that who he loved didn't matter to him.

Kon and Tim's favorite date spot is this humble little coffee shop on a corner in Metropolis. Tim can feed his caffeine addiction and Kon can stuff his face on their freshly baked pastries

Altho Lex really wanted some of those WayneTech secrets

And yea those are my hcs on how it all started :)

I'll make another post for my other hcs since this one is long enough

[ellana-ravenwood]

Sick Day - Batfam x Fem!Reader

Synopsis : It’s never fun to be sick. Duh. But when  you have loving parents there to take care of you, maybe it isn’t so bad ? Just short little snippets of the first time each Batkids fell ill in Wayne Manor, and how Bruce and his wife (you :D) dealt with it. 

Another “burst of the moment inspiration” story, just a little drabble. Promise I’ll post something more elaborate soon :), hope you’ll like it : 

My master list blog : @ella-ravenwood-archives

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(Thanks to that anon who mentioned the kids getting shots, that gave me with this an idea on how to start this fic :D. The original beginning was different, I think I like that one better hehe.)

"Mister Wayne, if you keep doing this, I'm not going to be able to give your son-Bruce for god's sake !"

Leslie Thompkins, for the first time in her long career, was about to lose her patience and give up on...giving a simple shot to a baby. 

She has seen worried parents before, of course. The one that clung to their child’s hand, or those who would cry because their little one was in pain…

Babies that young, who had to get vaccinated for the first time, never really experienced this sort of quick pain before. 

A lot of them would cry more out of surprise than because it really hurt. Oh and when the parents were extra worried, you could be sure the baby was even more likely to burst into tears, sensing his parents' distress.

Yes. doctor Thompkins gave shots to a LOT of babies, and saw a LOT of worried parents before…But never had she met someone quite like Bruce Wayne.

He always came to her when his kids were sick. He could go to a fancier office, or to one of those pricy fancy private hospitals. But no. 

No because, when it came to his kids’ health, there was no one he trusted more than Doctor Leslie Thompkins. 

So it was no surprise when he brought his youngest son, Thomas, to get his first shot ever. What was a surprise though, was his reaction.

"And now you know why I'm always the only one in the room when this happens."

You say, smiling apologetically to the doctor. But ah, at least your husband's reaction eased a little the tension in your body brought by the mere idea of your baby being hurt. 

Every single time Leslie got the syringe close to your little one, Bruce would reflexively grab her wrist and stop her from giving the shot to his son.

Ridiculous, really. 

But it seemed it was something he couldn't fight. 

He apologized the first time he did it, as Dr Thompskins smiled and said it was ok, rather amused. But then the second time, it was getting clear he didn't seem to quite control himself. At the third time Bruce was visibly sweating. Dr Thompkins finally snapped as she tried for a fourth and fifth time to give a shot to little Thomas (who, at barely 2 months old, was much too young to even understand what was happening, but by his little smiles it was clear he was happy every time his father would come into his vision).

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just…I thought I could do it, but I can't."

And oh. Oh it's adorable the way he turns to you, his eyes saying "I'm sorry" as he takes his son back in his arms and holds him against his chest. You weren’t sure if it was to comfort little Tommy, or if he was comforting himself. 

"I think I should just let you two handle this ?" He asks, unsure. He doesn’t want you to be mad or to think he’s abandoning you. 

"I think this is a good idea Bruce, yes."

You smile at him reassuringly. It’s fine. It was always fine. 

"I'm sorry, sorry I'm letting you do this alone once again. I just can't…"

"Oh it's ok my Broosh, I know you hate shots. I can handle it, and little buddy here sure can too."

Thomas coos happily as you pick him up delicately from his father's arms. Bruce resists a bit, before finally giving in and letting you take hold of the little one. 

He lays a hand on his son's head, looking fondly at him (of this look he only gives his children, of this pure look full of unconditional love, and a hint of “what did I do to deserve this sort of happiness ?”) and then sighs, press a soft kiss to your forehead, murmuring a last “I’m sorry, my love” and leaves the room. 

He feels a little ashamed to let you do this once again, but you've always been the strongest one out of the two. After all, you willingly decided to marry a man like him…

"Alright Mrs Wayne, ready ? And here we-oh not you too (Y/N) !"

"I'm sorry I'm sorry, I don't know what took over me, it was just a reflex too !"

You apologize, as you let go of the doctor's wrist…

Yeah, it was just a gut reaction to seeing a scary needle approaching your baby's thigh. In your line of um, nightly work, you came to be very wary, of syringes. You still remember vividly that time Tim got hit with one of Scarecrows’ needle, and how terrible this night had been...

"Ok ok, now is fine. Go. I'm ready. Go fast though, now. Now I’m not looking. Go. Go. Go."

Tears welling up in your eyes at the mere thought of this happening, you look away as you hold your son still (something he doesn't like as clearly shown by his little sound of protest, and as he starts to fuss about), and in one, two seconds…it's done. 

And not a peep from your son. 

He just stopped making any sound (he've always been rather vocal), his eyes went wide, and he made a face that looked like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to cry or not. Then there’s one more second, and Leslie had a soothing bandaid on his little leg, and you were holding him against your heart, and the pain was so fleeting and already gone, that he just gets over it quickly, feeling your love.

Calming down instantly, not noticing the tears in your eyes (thank god, or it’d be a sure way to make him weep too).

And so he doesn't cry. And everything is ok again.

“Well, that wasn’t so hard, was it ?”

“Actually, it was.”

You say, barely holding your tears in, your son cooing in your arms 

“Um...I was talking to Thomas.” 

Leslie answers, amused. And just like that, you both burst into laughter.

After a few minutes of this uncontrollable fit of giggles, you thank Leslie for her help, and leave the room, joining your husband who had been walking back and forth in the waiting room, nervous. 

He comes immediately to you and Thomas, and as soon as the boy sees his dad he smiles widely and giggles. Bruce gives him a soft smile, before turning to you : 

“How was it ?” 

“For me ? Not great. For Tommy ? He didn’t even utter a sound. Our little guy is brave !” 

You kiss your son on his forehead, and he giggles and coos even more. There’s a short silence, before Bruce says : 

“I’m sorry...”

And then he takes you in his arms, sandwiching little Thomas who’s protesting a bit. Damn, his parents could be so clingy ! 

“It’s ok my Broosh, I already told you. It’s ok.” 

You sort of knew since you stepped into the doctor’s room that you’d end up being the one having to hold your boy anyway.

You knew oh too well how squeamish he was whenever HE had to get a shot done (and oh who would’ve thought the big bad bat hated getting shots so much uh ? You were pretty sure he would rather getting actually shot than take a tiny needle in his arm any day of the week...Alfred always had to fight with him to inject anesthesia when treating him for wounds). It was actually sort of a requirement, that you’d be next to him to give him your hand when he absolutely had to get a shot.

So understandably so, he always skipped on his children’s vaccins. He just couldn’t bear to see anyone he cared for to get that very things he hated so much, it just made him feel ill.

And you’ve always been fine with this. Since that very first day when you took Dick there...But Bruce always felt bad.

Because whenever you’d get out of the doctor’s office, you’d have fresh tears in your eyes, because you were just too pure for this world (is what Damian would say).

Dick always took advantage of this. He was never really scared of shots, and thought they didn’t really hurt...But oh, oh he would always cry a river of crocodile tears just so he’d get extra cuddles and ice cream.

And then, that cheeky little bugger passed that knowledge of “when we get shots, or we get sick, the parents literally let us do WHATEVER we want !” to his little siblings (you were actually pretty sure your kids would pass secret ways to manipulate you and Bruce along to their younger siblings and..you were oddly fine with it. You loved those kids too much to care, really).

This thought reminded you of that very first time Dick fell sick, shortly after you and Bruce officially adopted him. 

And how much you guys freaked out. 

It was both a pleasant, and terrible memory. 

And oh. Oh you already dreaded the day Thomas would have his first real fever...You still remembered how it happened, with all your other children. 

“What is it ?” Bruce asks, always knowing when something was on your mind. And so you say : “Nothing bad, this just reminds me of when Dick got sick for the first time while with us...”

A light of recognition ignited in Bruce’s eyes, he knew exactly what you were talking about. 

Bruce only had fond memories of when he was sick and his mom and dad would take care of him.

He thought they were the best, wether they’d hold a “barf-bucket” for him, or stay up all night because he was too feverish...

What he never realized though, is that having a sick child was actually absolutely terrifying ! Bruce often felt sick himself, when the kids were ill.....ah, but nothing ever beats those first time each of them got sick.

DICK 

Dick wasn't as young as Thomas, when he first came into your life. None of them were. But he was still a cute little bean, your baby. 

Eight years old, and oh so sweet and nice and cute and you could just squish his little cheeks all day (albeit from the few outburst of anger at times, but hey, he was but a child, every kid throw tantrum from times to times).

He had been living with you and Bruce in the Manor for the past six months, when you had your first fright, and realized that being a parent meant being worried about your kid's well being for the rest of your days

Dick was definitely a tiny kid when he came in your life. He was rather short, only having a growth spurt when he was around 14/15. Barbara Gordon used to tease him to no end about this, up until he finally caught up with her and ended up being taller.  

But yes, his small stature for his age, maybe made you baby him even more than the others, sometimes. 

Ah. That first time little Dick Grayson was sick at Wayne Manor. 

You. Freaked. The. Fuck. OUT. 

You and Bruce, both. 

Coincidentally, Dick became ill ON THE ONLY FEW DAYS OFF ALFRED WOULD TAKE A YEAR !! 

Every year, for a theater festival, Alfred would take off to his homeland, to England, in London to be exact, for but a few days. 

The three of you were in the batcave. Bruce was getting ready to go out, while you were on the bat computer and Dick was training on the side, doing some acrobatics on the trampoline Bruce installed. 

And then he came to you, pulling on your sleeve, and he was so pale...

“I don’t feel too well.” 

He said, right before throwing up for a few way too long seconds, as tears welled up in his eyes...it was never nice to throw up, and once again, no matter how mature he acted, you were reminded that Dick was but an eight year old child. 

But he wasn’t only crying because throwing up fucking sucked. He was also crying because he thought you were going to be mad at him. 

You reassured him, as you cleaned his little face up, and Bruce (who looked quite green himself...later on, you’d discover than when his kids or you were sick, he felt sick too...quite a strong reaction, really) carried him upstairs. 

You were frantically googling how to take care of a sick child, as Bruce stayed with Dick, holding a bark bucket to his face, and drawing soothing circles on his back with his hand. 

The panic dumbed the both of you down. It seemed like you couldn’t think, as you tried to make Dick as comfortable as he could. 

You could feel your anxiety blowing through the roof, and knew that Bruce was close to have a panic attack himself (he was prone to them, although you and Alfred were the only one who knew).

You didn’t know what was worst, the fact he was sick and had no idea what you were supposed to do, or how much Dick was sobbing and apologizing. 

“Should we call Dr. Thompkins ?”

“I don’t know her number, Alfred is the one that calls usually...” 

“Should we take him there then ?” 

“I don’t know, Alfred is-” 

This went on for a little bit, as Dick was throwing up and crying. Saying “sorry !” every two seconds. But...Instinctively, Bruce was trying to soothe him with those warm pats on his back. And you were caressing his hair, empathetic. And...

You decided to not go to the doctor today, Dick was sick, but not sick enough to take him to an emergency. And in Gotham ? Leslie was needed for a lot, especially in evenings like this. 

“Alfred um, gives me flat soda when I have a stomach ache ?”

“On it !” 

You say, bolting on your feet and running to the kitchen, taking a cola and opening it up. Meanwhile, Dick’s fit calmed down, and he seemed to instantly feel better as he probably threw everything he needed to up... 

He seemed content, cuddling against Bruce as the man was softly patting his back in small circles, and using his other hand to hold his head delicately. 

You and Bruce were definitely not experienced parents yet, and it showed. 

It showed by those first few minutes of utter panic, as your child got suddenly sick. And it showed as how you instantly just thought of calling Alfred...

That day, you both realized though, that you couldn’t always rely on the butler when it came to raising your son. For situations exactly like that one.

Both you and Bruce were still young, and scared to make mistakes but..You had to try. And you had to keep a cool head. Your motherly instinct kicked in.

It was so odd, seeing the big bad bat, wearing his costume without the cowl on (he didn’t have time to take it off as he rushed upstairs with the boy in his arms), looking so worried... 

Bruce was so pale, and you could see that in a way, he felt his son’s pain too...Which just made your head click, and take action. 

“Ok, ok we can do this. Keep the barf bucket close, let’s wait for the soda to get flat, and um...let’s try to distract him. A movie, perhaps ?”

Dick nodded, and although he wasn’t throwing up anymore, he seemed too weak to stand up (or maybe he was faking, could be, honestly, with that one...doesn’t matter) so Bruce carried him again. 

And it was a sight. Bruce was a tall man. And Dick was a very small kid. 

It was cute. and in that moment...In that moment it felt like you both suddenly realized what it meant, to be a parent.  

Bruce, holding his son in his arms, feeling the little one’s heartbeat and slowed breath as he was kinda nodding off...was this how his own father felt, when holding him ? It was nice. It was a surge of pure love, and knowing that he would die for that kid if he had to. Hell, he would burn the whole world, for that kid. 

It was so odd. The situation wasn’t that crazy, Dick probably just ate something bad, and with the trampoline and all the jumping around...he got sick. 

As a child, you had those rapid sick moments of having a bad stomach ache, which would turn into throwing up, to then feel better. Those sudden moments when your own parents would take care of you...

Ah. You hadn’t realized how much worry being a parent would bring. Bruce didn’t either. You guys adopting Dick felt like an obvious thing to do. Felt like it was meant to be...

But it wasn’t just yet, that you felt like a mom. Or a dad. 

It took some time to build. Just like it took time for Dick to call you “mom” and “dad”. And in that moment, as your kid (yes, your kid) was sick, that was it...

Finally. Yes. That was it. 

You were a mom. 

Bruce was a dad. 

Dick was your son. 

Of course you panicked as he suddenly got sick. But now, it was in your hand to properly take care of him. And thus started the first ritual you’d ever make with one of your children. 

Dick, when sick, liked chicken noodle soups. Made by you. He liked cuddles, up until he turned 12 or 13, then he acted as if he was too grown up for them. This eventually stopped when he turned 19, not long after Jason’s death...He regressed back to a little boy in some ways, and needed you. And Bruce. 

You’d often drive to Bludhaven just to give him chicken noodle soup and sprite, when he got sick. Even as he grew older and older...He loved it. No one could ever beat his mom babying him, when he felt under the weather. 

JASON 

"Hey buddy, are you ok ?” 

“Yes, yes I’m ok mom.” 

He smiles at you sweetly, his eyes half-closed, and clearly still relishing in the fact that he can finally call someone “mom”. But this happiness he felt whenever he realized he was finally safe, and had a home, was oddly dimmed, this morning. 

“Are you su-OH MY GOD !” 

Your hand is burning, as you lay it on his forehead. 

He’s burning up !

“Hey wow hey, kiddo, come here, you’re not feeling well are you ?” 

But Jason shakes his head, and says : 

“No I’m good. Just tired, but I’ll wake up soon.” 

He smiled again, but it felt all wrong. 

Of course, you didn’t take his words for it, even if you knew Jason wasn’t a liar. But the fact spoke for themselves, your kid was NOT alright. No matter what he was saying. 

Turned out, you were definitely right. He really wasn’t alright. 

In fact, Jason had...pneumonia. A bad case of it. That he probably caught when he was playing earlier that day, in the snow, with Bruce, staying out up until his lips were blue and he was soaking wet !! Bruce could just never resist him, and didn’t have the heart to say “no” when the kid kept asking on playing more...

He dearly regretted it. But you reassured him, this wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t. 

You rushed to the hospital, Bruce holding a tiny little Jason wrapped tight in a few warm blankets. And the doctor confirmed you made the right call, taking him to the ER. 

It wasn’t like with Dick, where it was obvious the boy had a mild sickness. No. Jason really looked bad, and ready to drop. 

You and Bruce let once again your parental instincts kick in and...It was the right call. 

When Jason woke up, he let out a string of apologies and you realized...You realized the kid was terrified you wouldn’t want him anymore if he bothered you too much. Was scared to death that you’d want to take him back where you found him, that you’d give up on him. 

His real life father bolted at the first signs of troubles. His mother was a drug addict for whom he was never good enough to try and get cleaned up. 

He was abandoned, over and over again along his short life and...he was absolutely terrified that if he was too much of a nuisance to you two, you and Bruce would leave him as well. That you wouldn’t bother. 

And it broke your hearts. 

Softly, when Jason finally got better, after a few days of utter nightmare for you and Bruce, you took him home. He still needed some rest, as he was a little sick, so you tucked him comfortably in his bed and finally, you told him : 

“From now on, you promise me to tell us when you don’t feel ok ? Wether you think it’ll bother us or not. You will never bother us, little buddy, ok ?”

“Ok”, Jason said, unsure. 

“What do I have to say or do, to convince you you’ll never be a nuisance to us ?” 

The question took Jason by surprise, and he wasn’t quite sure of what to say. In his feverish state anyway, he had a hard time thinking. He heard himself say : 

“Stay with me ?” 

“Of course. Always little one, always.” 

And as he softly drifted to sleep, feeling the cold and soothing towel you would wet over and over again to put on his forehead, he heard you hum a song from your childhood, that would become a song always sure to put him to sleep. 

He was out, when Bruce said : “I’ll stay home tonight.” A shame, really. Because maybe, maybe if he heard that the Batman was going to skip patrol just to keep an eye on him...Then he’d know he would never bother him. Ever. 

That he would forever hold a dear, prime place in his heart.

Jason woke up the next morning, and found you and Bruce asleep on the floor, right next to his bed. You were still holding a towel that had long since dried up, and one of Bruce’s hand was clutched tightly on your shirt. 

The basin full of cold water laying on his bed side table was almost empty. Jason smiled. 

He felt better after a few hours of good sleep, and slowly got out of the blankets, pulling them with him, to then lay down next to you two, throwing the thick quilt over all of you. 

Later that day, Alfred found the three of you all cuddled up. He snatched a picture. Picture that was framed, amongst some of your favorite of your children, in your office. And in Bruce’s. 

The way you sung him to sleep when he was sick...When he died, it was the last thing he thought about. When he saw the bomb would explose before Bruce could save him. 

He thought of how soothing it was, to be taken care of by you. And your humming voice rung in his ears, as he realized he was going to die. Right there. 

Oh. Oh he wished he could be a little sick eight years old again, forget all his worries, and just fall asleep with the sound of your voice in his ears, while his dad would hold the both of you in his arms...

TIM 

“Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, go back to bed this instant !”

Tim was the most difficult one, when he had a fever. He was a bit of a workaholic (like father like son ?), and always wanted to help. He hated being too sick because then he felt useless.

Your boy just wanted so much to be there for everyone, that he often forgot himself in the process and...yes. 

His first real fever/sickness was punctuated by you constantly trying to get him back into bed.

You almost never even knew Tim was sick !

The boy was so used to taking care of himself, that he tried to handle everything on his own. He even took an appointment to the doctor himself ! But then, before having the chance to go there, he passed out in school, which resulted in a call from his principal that ended in Bruce almost having a heart attack. 

You understood him of course. It wasn’t really a nice feeling to be called out during a business meeting to have someone tell you your son passed out in school ! 

It was just a little flu, but the fever and lack of sleep got the best of him. 

Bruce didn’t even tell anyone where he was going, as he rushed to the school. You met him there, as he was walking out of the building, with a little sleepy Tim in his arms. 

“I can walk, I swear I can walk.” 

The boy was saying, yet his head was on his dad’s shoulder, and the up and down bobble of Bruce’s walk was clearly putting him to sleep. 

Your husband settled your son in the car, and drove home. 

“He was trying to convince me he could finish his school day, and that he had a group work today and didn’t want to let his friends down...”

“Sounds like Tim alright...”

You said, looking back at his sleeping form in the back seat. 

Bruce nods, but you could see something was on his mind. You always knew, when something was on his mind. Brushing a few fingers on his cheeks, you ask : 

“What is it, my Bruce ?” 

His eyes are on the road, of course. But he flicks them quickly to you, and he knows. He knows he can’t lie to you, or get away with telling you half-truth. 

You’ll know, if he’s not really telling you what has been worrying him. He takes a deep breath and, with a small voice says : 

“Is this...my fault ?” 

At first, you don’t understand, and you say : 

“I’m pretty sure it’s because that boy never wears a damn sweater, and we’re in Gotham in the middle of Winter haha.” 

But then...Then you realize what he means. 

He’s talking about the fact that Tim always seem to overcompensate for something. Always seem to want to be there for everyone, forgetting sometimes he’s just a ten years old boy. 

Tim was the only one out of his siblings that became Robin for no personal reason, but just because he loved Batman and wanted to help him. Just because he wanted to help people. 

He didn’t have a tragic backstory (although he unfortunately got one later on...), he didn’t have a reason to become Robin, other than his good nature and really wanting to help...

And Bruce let him. Allowed him to do this. Even after what happened to Jason, he let Tim sneak in your life and become Robin. 

You’d argue that Tim didn’t leave you guys much of a choice, and sort of had a “well I’m gonna help you no matter what, deal with it” sort of attitude. But you understood your husband’s worries. 

He was afraid that he was the one that made him that way. That it was because of him, that Tim worked his health off. 

“Oh, Bruce, my Heart...No. No it’s not your fault. It’s just how this amazing little boy is wired. I actually think that thanks to you, he’s more focused and taken care of. The gods can only imagine what Tim Drake would’ve done if he hadn’t been trained by Batman himself...If you said “no” to him pestering you about becoming your Robin, he would’ve taken it upon himself to go out there anyway. And then...I can only imagine what would’ve happened. So no. No it’s not your fault. It’s just...how he is. He reminds me of you a lot, actually. And I’m so, so glad he managed to convince you...Couldn’t imagine my life without that little one in it. Even if he does give me grief often, overworking like that. But it’s not your fault. It’s not. On the contrary.” 

It took you a while, to convince Bruce he didn’t create Tim the way he sort-of created Dick and Jason. But you managed to, as you always did. You could be very convincing. Plus, the boy helped. It was clear his dedication came from himself mainly, that he was just born this way. 

Too clever and smart for his own good, destined to be a Robin...and maybe a Batman, one day ?

Yes. Tim was the only one that wasn’t in it for himself. For personal reasons. He just wanted to help...

But after that first time he got sick, he understood that sometimes, it was ok to rely on you or his die. That in fact, he would gladly do so ! 

That day, Bruce carried him to his bed, even as the boy protested he was alright. Finally, you’ve had enough and ended up sort of lecturing him...gently. 

“You need to rest, sometimes, ok ? If it’s too much, if you’re too tired, physically AND mentally, you need to take a few steps back...and let others take care of things, and of you. Ok ?” 

“But-”

“No buts Timmy. It’s important. If something bad happens to you because you’ve been ignoring your own body, your own self...What will happen to those you want to help ? In order to continue what you’re doing, you need to take some pauses. Like right now. You are sick. You passed out in school. So...It’s gatorade and crackers time.” 

Gatorade and crackers. 

Tim’s favorite drinks and food. 

Gatorade and crackers. 

Two things that were rarely found in Wayne Manor. You always tried to give healthy balanced meals to your kids. Especially to Tim, who had the opposite of a balanced diet when he came into your lives (the fact he often had to take care of himself as his parents were too busy meant he often chose his own food...and of course he’d rather have ice cream than broccolis). 

But the fact that you were now giving him Gatorade and crackers meant...Meant that Dick was right. When they were sick, you would do anything to make them comfortable. 

Coincidentally though, Gatorade and saltines helped out, when one was sick. 

On that first time he became sick after starting to live with you, Tim found that it was ok, to relax sometimes. That he didn’t have to waste his life away 24/7 for others, and that he could enjoy some down time. 

It only happened when he was sick, to your great dismal. You constantly tried to convince him to take a break (just like you did with Bruce...but although it worked with your husband, especially as he got older, Tim was just very stubborn, and wanted to help too damn much). You even had to trick him into it often. 

So although you hated seeing your kids in any kind of pain, you were almost glad when Tim got sick. Because it meant he would really take care of himself. Or rather, letting you take care of him. 

That first time he got sick, he ended up leaving his bed...only to go cuddle up in yours and Bruce’s, and enjoy some down time. And learn that, it was ok, to take care of himself. 

Hell. You’d hammer this fact in his head if you had to. 

Gatorade and crackers, while watching movies in yours and Bruce’s big bed, was why Tim thought that in the end, being sick wasn’t too bad. 

Extra points if you two were in the bed with him, snuggled up all nice, safe and warm. 

CASSANDRA

Cassandra didn’t like TV, when she was sick. Instead, she liked you reading her stories better. And you’d read to her all day, if need be. Switching from time to time with your husband. 

She had trouble sleeping, even when sick and weak. Listening to your voices telling her all those wonderful stories was soothing beyond measure. 

The first time she fell sick while at Wayne Manor though, her first reflex was to go hide. Because when she used to be sick with the man who called himself her “father”, with David Cain (that scum), he used to get so mad at her. 

As if it was her fault, she became sick. 

So she’d run away. Curl into a ball. Wait for it to pass. And then face him, healthy again. It was easier to confront him when she was ok...So she’d rather run away and face the consequences, rather than stay around him while sick. 

And so, her first instinct was to go hide. 

She went to the attic, and did what she used to do. 

Curled up in a ball, in front of the round window. And wait. Alone. 

It’s Bruce, who found her. He was casually checking the GPS he put on his children. They still thought they got rid of it, the sweet kids...but as if he’d only implant one. He knew it wasn’t really ethical, but after what happened to Jason, he wasn’t willing to take any chances. 

During the day, he would check a few times, and usually during boring office meeting, to see where they were. That day, he saw Cass in the Manor’s attic, and didn’t think much of it. Cass was a curious one, who took it upon herself to explore everything in the house. 

But when he came home, and she was still there, his guts told him something was wrong...He rushed to the attic, and found her. 

And his heart stopped, when he saw her laid on the floor, curled up into a ball, and softly moaning because she had a bad fever. 

She wasn’t asleep, even in this state she fought sleep, afraid to have nightmares (and while having a fever, she couldn’t just wake up to escape them...). 

Bruce carried her out of the attic, holding her tight in his arms, his heart bleeding as he realized why she isolated herself while she needed help. 

People often misjudged Bruce on that matter. Saw him as a cold harsh man. But oh; oh if it was touching his children or you...He would feel so much. Too much, even. He just loved you all to death. 

When he brought her downstairs, and you saw her, you immediately entered “mom mode” and fussed over her, getting everything you needed to make her comfortable...but as it turned out, all she wanted was to feel yours and Bruce’s presence. 

To hear your voice, and feel you were there. 

And so without thinking, you picked up a book and started to read it to her. And you could feel her relax, let her guard down. A rare occasion she would truly let herself be chill. 

The first time Cass got sick while living under your roof, her first instinct was to hide and lick her wounds all by herself. It was to lie on the floor and hope it would pass fast. It was-

The second time she felt under the weather, she immediately went to you. It was early in the morning. And it’s only thanks to Bruce’s amazing reflexes that Cass didn’t throw up all over you two, as he pulled you away from her just in time...To then take care of changing the sheets, while you held your daughter’s hair as she threw up in the master’s bathroom’s toilet. 

And then Bruce went downstairs to take a “barf-bowl”, the one actually, that her mom used to take for him...ah. He always used that one for all the kids. Call it nostalgia. 

The second time Cass got sick while under your care, she didn’t hide. She wasn’t dreading it, even as she got even sicker than the first time. No. 

No because now, she knew she’d always find you so you could take care of her. Ah, and Dick, Jason and Tim gave her many tricks to fake being sick and have you all for herself...

DUKE

Duke was older than any of your kids were when he started to live at the Manor. He was already in his teens. He wasn't a tiny bean like the rest of them, when he came in your family...

And yet. Yet the first time he fell sick, you babied the hell out of him. 

So what if he was sixteen ? Doesn’t mean he couldn’t have all the care a child should have when he wasn’t feeling well. 

And so you were ready to take care of him, when Alfred came to you this morning to tell you “Master Duke” wasn’t feeling well. 

However, when you got to his room and indeed saw he was feverish, he refused to talk to you and just wanted to be alone. 

And then it hits you. 

Duke was sixteen. 

He wasn’t a lost little eight years old boy who had just lost his parents, or never even had parents. He wasn’t a child in dear need of love and cuddles.  

He was sixteen. 

And he wanted HIS mom. 

What happened to his parents was too fresh. 

And they weren’t dead...In a way, seeing them lose their mind with no chance of ever getting better was worst. 

Duke was sixteen. 

And there, sick, all he wanted was to have his mom’s care again.

Yes. Duke’s case was different than all your other children. Because his parents were still there. Because he was older. Because everything was so fresh, at the moment. 

In time, in the coming years, he would come to feel just like his siblings did. But right there, just mere few weeks after he moved to the manor, and mere few days after Bruce helped him find his parents...

Duke was homesick. 

He missed his dad. But he missed his mom even more. Probably for the same reason that your kids loved to have you around so much, when they were sick...

There was no doubt in your mind that Duke’s mom was amazing at taking care of him when he felt ill. She probably had her own tricks, to make him feel better. Tricks that you did not know...And so you asked. 

You simply asked. 

Because you wanted to make him feel better. You wanted to be there for him, even if right now, he didn’t want you around. 

If he truly wanted to be left alone, you’d leave some medicine and leave him be. But your guts were telling you he was just sad, and the sad was translated into him pretending he wanted to be alone. 

Your guts were right. 

Duke wanted his mom. Yes. But he also didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts, right now...He just didn’t want to hurt your feelings. He knew how motherly you could be.  He didn’t want to project his mother on you. He-

“What do you need ?”

You asked, and the answer came to his mind instantly. He spoke before even realizing he was doing it : 

“My mom used to make a perfect drink of warm water, honey, ginger and lemon.”  

And as you tried to recreate his mom’s drink, never quite getting the measurements right (you could see on his face it wasn’t like his mother’s), Duke slowly felt better. 

Because...Because yes. He missed his mom. And the way she took care of him. Especially on sick days. But...It wasn't everywhere that one could find someone who cared so much, that they were willing to spend their entire day trying to get a drink right, right ? 

And when Bruce came home, and asked him if he was “alright champ ?”, Duke realized one thing... 

Yes. He wanted his parents. Yes, he missed them like hell. Yes, his sick days would never be the same...

But he wasn’t alone. As Bruce joined in trying to make the perfect drink of “warm water, honey, ginger and lemon”, Duke came to the realization that his situation wasn’t as desperate as he thought, this morning, when he woke up feeling under the weather, and without his mom to take care of him. 

Because you were still there. And were planning on staying there for a very long time. Of course, you could never replace his mom. Just like you never replaced Dick’s, or Damian’s...You just, became another mom to them. 

And Duke...That first day of being sick in Wayne Manor ? He felt like he was finally willing to let you become his second mom. To let Bruce become a father figure. To have this found family, in this tough times...

Sick days were never the same than when he was a little kid and still had his parents around. 

Duke was sixteen. Growing up wasn’t easy, especially after what he went through. And sick days would never be the same...But it didn’t mean they wouldn’t be nice, as he slowly let you and Bruce, and his newfound siblings, take care of him. 

Yes. To have this found family in this tough times was quite a joy. 

DAMIAN

To the surprise of many, Damian actually didn’t resist too much being taken care of when he first got sick under your roof. 

Damian actually loved being sick, because it meant snuggles time with you, safe and warm under a blanket on the couch, watching his favorite movies. It meant your soothing fingers running in his hair, making him feel peaceful and relaxed. 

It also meant that he’d have you all for himself. 

With five siblings (with a sixth one on the way), it wasn’t always the easiest thing ever, to get his mom only for himself. Yes. He loved to be sick, and babied by you. 

The first time he got a bad fever, a few months after he arrived at the Manor, he dreaded falling ill because...

Well. Because he was raised in the League of Assassins. And being sick, no matter how much, was not considered reason enough to not train. To not do what his grandfather told him to do. 

He used to work through the sickness. Even if he felt like passing out (and he did, a few times, which earned him hours from his sleeping time taken away...). 

So Damian hated being sick. 

Until. Until he became ill for the first time when living with you. 

By that time, you and Bruce had learned how to manage a sick child. And although Bruce still felt physically ill too whenever his children were, he managed nowadays to be somewhat ok and take care of them without wincing. 

It happened not long after Damian started to call you “mom”. He fell asleep while you guys were watching a movie and...it’s what instantly told you something was wrong. 

No matter how bad a movie would be, Damian would NEVER fall asleep in the middle of it. 

Ah, and sure enough, as you checked his temperature you realized he had a bad fever. And so you carried him to his room, tucking him into bed. 

He woke up as you were doing that, and looked at you, utterly surprised. What was going on ? 

“Get some rest buddy, you’ll feel better soon.” 

You said, smiling. And at first, Damian didn’t understand. He had been so conditioned in ignoring his own well being, that he didn't realize something was wrong with him. But then, you laid a hand on his forehead, and said : 

“Ah it doesn’t seem like it’s such a big sickness, I’ll go get you some medicinal tea and...What do you want to eat ? If you’re hungry ? Maybe you’re not, sometimes when I’m sick I just don’t wanna eat anything.”

Sick ? Was he...Sick ? Yes. He was. But it was so mild, that he didn’t even think he needed to rest. Or...Didn’t he ? He was just so used to still work even when sick. 

“What-What about school ?” 

He asked, and he was surprised his voice sounded so weak and tired. Was he always feeling like that when sick ? Yes. But...Something was different. 

And then it hit him. 

“I think it’s ok if you skip a few days’ buddy.”

The difference was that, when he was sick while amongst the League of Assassins, he was always terrified that his grandfather got tired of him and send him hitmen (it happened a lot before, while he was sleeping for example, and it always happened to test him, test if he was ready, and willing to kill and ask questions after). That he didn’t find him useful enough. 

While here, with you, he felt safe. He felt loved. He felt warm. 

And so his body wasn’t in a “fight or flight” state. He was just...sick. As any normal kid would be. 

When with the Al’Ghul, he somehow managed to convince himself to keep going, to work through the pain. And oh, it’s wonders, what the brain can do when you really want to. 

But here. Here he didn’t have to act tough. To keep walking or he’d end up dead. Here. Here he was safe. And loved. 

So he felt the sickness, the fever. He felt it’s true effect. 

“What do sick people eat ?” 

He asked, and at first you didn’t think much of it. You started to tell him Dick loved chicken noodle soup while Tim preferred saltines. Cass would never eat much, neither would Jason, but they’d always say yes to some flat sodas. 

He seemed unsure of what he wanted, so you asked him a simple question : 

“What do you usually eat, when you’re sick ?” 

It was such an innocent question. But it made him almost cry. 

Usually ? 

Usually...

“Well...”

He hesitates, and you sense there’s more to things than you originally thought. Finally, after looking at your encouraging smile, he says : 

“When I was sick before, I still had to train. And then they’d tell me I’m weak.” 

In one sentence, you understand everything. And you could punch yourself for ever thinking that he got taken care of when sick. And then the next second, you hold him tight in your arms, and once again, Damian is surprised. 

But pleased. He had been touched starve most of his life, this was nice. 

“My poor baby...”

He didn’t even complain you called him a baby, and let you hug him. And then...Then you spend time with him, trying to find the perfect ritual to make him feel better while he was sick. 

You had such rituals with everyone. Formed on the day they first got sick. Damian needed his own thing too...

Thus was created the “couch nest”. 

It involved covering the living room’s couch with at LEAST one quilt, then Damian would bring the pillows (and maybe some stuffs animals, or even real ones...Titus often sneaked in) from his bed, and you would tuck him in with one or two more quilts. 

He would then spend the rest of the time watching TV and movies with you. Or with his siblings. Or his dad. 

And it was so comforting, to be wrapped up like that. Almost like laying in a hug. It made him feel like he was perpetually held by you. 

Damian used to hate being sick. Because he hated being weak. 

But this changed. Just like he changed. Thanks to his family. Thanks to you. 

Now, just like Tim, he almost loved, being sick...

************

“This sort of reminds me of that time Dick got his first fever...”

You were thinking about all those terrible, yet sweet days, of your children being sick, as you walked up the stairs to your house, a hand tightly weaved around your husband’s. 

Bruce was holding a sleeping Thomas in one of his arm (the boy was so small he could even fit in one of his hand, really), and felt relaxed. Here. With his son, and his wife, the love of his life. And with the knowledge than when you’d push the door to your house open you’d-

“Father ! Mom ! How is he !?” 

Both you and Bruce quickly put a finger on your lips, and Damian throws his hands on his mouth, regretting his scream. But he was just so worried. 

He couldn’t come with you to the doctor’s office as he had school (plus you were pretty sure he would’ve been 100 times worst than Bruce, trying to stop Leslie by any means necessary), and had been thinking about his little brother’s first shot all day. 

Damian, just like his dad, wasn’t very fond of shots. He hated that his brother (wether the youngest one, or one of the older one, really) had to go through this. 

It was always silly to you, how both Bruce and Damian, who’ve been through much worst than small little shots, hated those so much...Silly, and very cute. 

Damian was looking critically at his brother, checking him silently for any signs of distress, for any “mistakes” Doctor Thompkins would’ve done, and seemed satisfied that the boy was fast asleep in his dad’s arm.

And Bruce...Bruce was smiling. 

He felt so relaxed. And happy.

When you pushed that door, it opened on Damian rushing to the two of you, worried about his little brother. But it also opened on Alfred, who baked some comforting food, and brewed some tea for you, knowing how hard on you this sort of things could be (and yet how you insisted to take your kids to the doctor yourself, and not let Alfred do it, because you wanted to be there for them). 

It opened on Cass smiling, and ruffling Damian’s hair as to reassure him. 

It opened on Tim, who took a small break from his college study to come down and spend some times with his siblings, ready to relax in front of a movie (it was family movie night !). 

It opened on Duke, who’s hands were full of DVDs, and who was excited to try to convince y’all to watch “Ninja and Pirates 6″, or something of the like. 

It opened on Jason, who was smiling in such a way that no one would ever know all the things he went through. And it made Bruce feel all nice and warm inside...even as the little shit mimicked him having to take a shot. Squirming and looking as if he was about to faint. And ah, he hated to admit it, but his boy was impersonating him really well. 

And it opened on Dick. His first kid. The one that, one day when getting sick, was who made Bruce realize what it truly meant to be a dad. The one who knew the best how much he hated  seeing any of his children sick, or getting shots. 

On Dick, who was laughing really hard at Jason’s impersonation, and giving him feedbacks about what to improve to make it even better. 

The door opened on his family. 

And as the ruckus surrounding him woke Thomas, as Damian yelled at Jason and Dick for being so loud, and as Bruce’s eyes fell on you, while you looked at your little tribe with love in your eyes...

Bruce felt relaxed. And so, so, oh so happy. 

________________________________________________

This is yet another one of those stories I’ve been posting a lot lately, that do not take me very long to write and in which I don’t put that much effort, but that I really enjoy writing nonetheless ^^. And I hope you enjoyed reading it :), I’m nervous actually this isn’t up to your standards hahaha...Yes, hope you still liked it. Don’t hesitate to leave a little feedback etc etc ^^. Thanks in advance ! 

See you soon with something much longer and on which I spend a lot of time working ;). 

[peppersonironi]

Duke Thomas VS The "Good Child" Stereotype

Welcome to my fic for the @dukethomasbigbang! betas are @theycallme-ook @queerbutstillhere artists are @a-sketchy-character @doodlingdeelight

Summary:

5 Times Duke Tried To Prove To Bruce He Wasn't The Responsible One, and 1 Time His Siblings Knew Better (& used it to their advantage)

Because Duke is relatively new, he hasn't opened up completely to the family. He tries to follow Bruce and Alfred's rules, but he doesn't always succeed (nor try to). It's during these times Bruce still manages to pin the blame on someone else. His siblings, of course, see this. And whatever are they supposed to think? Well, Duke's clearly doing it on purpose!

(This is really just me being salty about fanon characterization, and an attempt to cram as much Crazy-Totally-Not-Sane-Duke as I can into a single fic)

Read on Ao3

Duke sat up in his bed and set aside the Physics homework he had been slaving away on for the past hour. It really wasn’t how he wanted to spend his post patrol free time, but the work was due in two days, and he was worried that if he didn’t get it done now, then he wouldn’t get it done at all.

Duke stretched his arms, but then sighed and pulled the textbook back onto his lap.

Just then, a knock came from his door. After Duke called out a quiet “Come in” the knob turned and Bruce poked his head in.

“Going on patrol, now.” He grunted, and Duke grinned. He had to admit that it felt good to know that Bruce cared enough to let him know when he was heading out.

“Sounds good. I’d watch the east corner of the Diamond District if I were you, I heard some whispers of something earlier.” he paused. “Call if you need help, I’m only working on some homework.”

Bruce eyed the open text book and pages of notes spread over Duke’s bed and sighed. “Good to know I have one responsible child,” he said and ducked out.

Now, this wasn’t too out of the norm. But there was something of Bruce’s words that seriously rubbed Duke the wrong way. No, it wasn’t that Bruce hadn’t acknowledged Duke’s offer of help. It was -

Being called responsible.

Duke frowned. He liked to think of himself as responsible, but it was the connotations that Bruce was implying. There had been several times over the past year that Duke was hailed as ‘the good child’ or ‘the sane one’ or ‘the well-behaved bat’ which if he were being honest, he didn’t think fit him at all.

Didn’t they think of the time he decided he could take on The Riddler by himself?

Or when he kept running away from foster homes to look for his parents?

Or became one of the Robins?

Or an official vigilante?

And one who wore bright yellow at that (though to be fair that was partly Bruce’s fault. Though Duke did keep the design when he revised it …).

And patrolled alone during the day!

Or when he disobeyed Bruce multiple times for so many reasons? One of the biggest when he didn’t tell him he suddenly got shadow powers?

Duke sighed. “I’m starting to believe Tim when he says that he’s the actual   World’s Greatest Detective.”

He liked Bruce and the family, and living in the Manor, he honestly did. But sometimes he wished he could be seen as something other than Bruce’s poorly thought out assumption.

But there wasn’t anything Duke could do about it. He was already one of the stranger members of the family, so it wasn’t like he could rebel a bit.

Wait, that was it!

Duke grinned as he grabbed his laptop from his bedside table and pulled it open, then quickly typing in what he was looking for. After a few minutes of search, Duke had hit the jackpot.

“Oh, this’ll be fun,” he said as he smirked down the screen, and what it read.

How To Become A Rebellious Teenager.