#and bruce would feel more comfortable with dick being out of sight

[eyeheartboobiez]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬: 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧

giving affection: acts of service

• being in a relationship with dick is amazing because he always wants to do things for you

• “baby i got it, you go sit down on the couch.”

• “don’t worry about it babe, i’ll make dinner tonight.”

• maybe it’s because he’s the eldest daughter™ of the batfam, but dick really just loves to make things easier for people

• on days you have to work he always volunteers to drive you (if you have to get up early he’ll be sure to bring you coffee)

• if you have braids in he never fails to help you take that shit down

• “hey babe pass me the rat tail comb real quick.”

• whenever you're testing out new recipes you don't even have to ask before he's already volunteering to be your personal lab rat

• usually when you’re walking home late you can see him on patrol making sure you get back safe

• sends you texts throughout the day to remind you to drink water

• the paparazzi loves when dick escorts you up the stairs whenever you both attend galas (pictures of you two would be in the paper by tomorrow morning)

receiving affection: quality time

• between work, patrol, and maintaining the perfect image to the media, dick has a hard time for anything he actually likes

• that’s why it never fails to make his heart melt when you go out of your way to make time for him

• you always like to visit him during his lunch breaks and bring food for the both of you to eat

• one of his favorite pass times with you is when the both of you take the night off to binge shows on netflix

• sometimes, when he’d go to san francisco to check up on the titans, he loves bringing you with him and going on long car rides along the beach

• the most memorable time you spent with him was when you came over one night to comfort him

• the entire week had been a shit show. for starters, dick had to fill in for bruce at a few events because of "league stuff". then he ended up twisting his ankle the other night on patrol. on top of that, there was a case at work that he just couldn't seem to solve.

• the whole thing was starting to take not only a physical, but mental toll on him as well

• you had just gotten a text from your boyfriend about how he couldn't come over for movie night. although you had responded with a simple "alrighty then :)", you knew just how much these netflix nights meant to him.

• so when he told you that he had to cancel plans, you had a feeling that something was up

• when dick had gotten your message, he just assumed that was that. he had just taken some tylenol to fight off his stress-induced headache and figured that he would just spend the rest of the night moping around in bed

• on his way to the bedroom however, an unexpected knocking was heard at the door. upon opening it, the most precious sight had gifted his eyes

• there you were in your pajamas, holding a box of pizza along with a tub of his favorite ice cream.

• "hey babe! i knew you weren't feeling well so i thought i'd just come over to check up on you. i brought your favorites" the hopeful smile on your face was the cutest thing he'd ever seem

• the thought of you taking the time to go out in the middle of the night to get some of his favorite junk food brought tears to his eyes. the detective hadn't realized how emotionally suppressed he had been until now

• it started with him getting choked up.

• then his eyes started to water.

• and before you knew it your boyfriend was breaking down right in front of you

• dick had always been the more emotional one in the relationship (something he is actually proud about), you hadn't expected him to react like this

• you hurriedly moved to put the food down and embraced him with more love than he could imagine

• his throat bobbed as he tried to speak but no words could amount to how appreciative he was if you

• kissing his tears away, the both of you spent the rest of the night cuddled up in the couch while watching movies from his watchlist

[monsterinmyboxers]

author’s note. hi my 25 followers, have an imagine about battinson <3 FEM N MINORS DNI. send me thirsts.

warnings. cockwarming, face off position, implications of bruce having a praise kink, fluffy smut.

bruce wayne always has something to busy himself with. night or day, there's something he needs to get done. but, every once in a while, he willingly takes a break. and the break includes him in your lap, with you nestled deep inside his heat.

bruce is touch starved, and feeling you so close, and so deep, fulfills so many of his needs. you'd kiss over and over, while you rub his sides and he runs his fingers through your hair.

you felt his muscles tense under your fingertips, that resulting in his hole tightening around your dick. bruce swallows your groans, you doing the same with his, relishing in each other's noises.

you both could do this for hours, and you most likely have. as long as it meant bruce allows himself to relax, you'd do anything he asked of you. this was usually his go-to — he found it comforting. after a day of having cameras shoved in his face and being smothered by photographers, or a night of beating the shit out of any wannabe criminal in sight, it was nice to be vulnerable.

it took a while to get to this point, but once bruce realized that you were his soulmate, he became more intimate overtime. he'd begin initiating, now more open with his feelings.

you were proud of him. and due to that, you would quickly find out that bruce has a slight praise kink.

[dairy-farmer]

Okay but hear me out. Tim is Ra’s pillow princess. Maybe Tim gave in during the time Bruce was lost in time or Tim has always been Dami’s grandmother. But a happy Ra’s/Tim and really, really jealous Bruce and batfam

!!!!!! tim is stressed and in mortal peril every other day while on his bruce quest and ra's has offered reprieve, resources, and...well the belief in tim's hunch. which makes him the most supportive person in tim's life at the moment so...tim's willing to overlook the whole 'evil megalomaniacal leader of a secret guild of assassins'. though honestly it's not all that hard.

if tim was still 13 and deeply into dungeons and dragons he would've absolutely swooned at ra's and his pretty accent and fancy capes.but baby tim is not running the show. tim is. and tim is only human...

he's under a lot of stress and trying to find bruce and trying to navigate all the weird power plays and politics in the league of assassins and ra's keeps going that thing where he comes up behind tim and rests his firm hands on tim's hips, bending his neck slightly and whispering lowly into tim's ear, the ghost of his beard caressing tim's sensitive neck. he's being seduced. that much is obvious. tim tries desperatly to work out what for- maybe this is part of some mind game, or some preparation for ammo to launch at bruce when he comes back and ra's is happily swiping at him like an allycat throwing hands with another fat-cheeked tomcat.

some kind of 'i saw your son's pussy' sort of trash talk.

tim's already in his hands so it's not like ra's has to lure tim even closer. much of what he could potentially want to manipulate tim for could just as easily be something accomplished by trying to bribe tim with some mashed potatoes and gravy and not that salad with a million seeds he insists on serving for dinner each night. 'it's good for your health' tim's ass he sounded like tim's grandma.

bruce quest is lonely. and isolating. tim finds himself yearning for companionship and company. and ra's fills the hole but....tim also desires...more.

it's no secret in the caped community that the bats have a tendency to....sample one another. it's just one of those quietly unacknowledged things.

sex is a decent and better coping mechanism than things like...drugs or alcohol. things that could seriously impair their judgement or health.

when it had just been him and bruce, bruce had needed a lot of comforting to help him curb the worst of his destructive habits and maybe there was something to be said reguarding to morality of bruce sleeping with a thirteen year old but it helped.

just like it helped dick when the pressure of nightwing and bludhaven came to be too much.

both dick and bruce had wanted active lovers. lovers who would distract them from their miserable lives by bouncing on their cocks and sweetly accepting every drop of their cum into their little wombs.

it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that tim did all the work. and when you've just spent all night patrolling, are nursing bruises/ cuts and have to ride your brother/dad to completion so they don't have nightmares?

it's a lot. so tim isn't a huge fan of sex. but it does feel nice. and the warmth and connection does a lot to deepen bonds and help tim forget his own world of problems.

so when ra's finally propositions him- tim doesn't hesitate to accept.

however it's with a caveat.

ra's does all the work.

tim is tired. mentally and emotionally exhausted and if ra's want to fuck him well then tim gets to just lay there, look pretty and take it.

tim tells ra's as much and gets a darkened look of desire in return.

apparently ra's would love nothing more than to show tim what centuries of experience have taught him. ra's loves the sight of tim being a sweetly gasping and squirming thing, little body so unsure about what to do with all he pleasure flowing through him as ra's gently but surely fucks him through another orgasm- his cock pressing all the way into the opening of tim's womb while fingers decorated with gold rings and jewls toy with tim's little clit that ra's calls adorable.

tim doesn't leave ra's chambers for three days. they only leave because of urgent matters ra's wants to deal with and even then they just take their business out to the office ra's operates out of.

ra's talks to shadows in some coded tongue while having tim seated in his lap and plugged with his cock, his hands holding onto tim's hips and working him up and down until he's shaking from another orgasm.

it's not an exaggeration to say that ra's gives tim the best sex of his life while tim just lays there and takes it.

even when bruce is finally recovered from being lost in time tim's not even there to see it becuase he's too busy getting fucked stupid by ra's.

tim's also pretty sure ra's had some plan to screw over gotham and tim but that appears to have been scrapped in favor of getting unrestricted and free access to tim's cunt whenever he wants.

of course the bats go on red alert when ra's is spotted at gotham airport but until he does something they're forced to just monitor. which is how they find out about ra's and tim regularly meeting at hotels to fuck (not tim's nest because tim wasn't stupid like ra's because tim had entire hard drives of ra's many bases that he would blow up in a heartbeat if ra's broke up with him).

bruce, dick, and the rest of the bats all insist that tim should break up with ra's. but tim has decided the reward is well worth the risk. besides how is this any different from bruce with selina or any other cape having affairs with a rogue?

they're not happy. tim can tell his family is deeply unhappy with his decision. but either way tim gets wonderfully fucked and he doesn't have to lift a finger for it.

[i-talk-too-much]

could you do a jason x vigilante!reader who is already in with the bat fam? preferably some angst/hurt/comfort stuff if you don’t mind! thank u!

hello! sorry this took so long, I haven't been feeling 100% lately and my inspiration is slowly returning. here you go!

Jason Todd x Vigilante!Reader

Word Count: 1,755

Warnings: slight gory descriptions, mentions of death (not any known character), hurt/comfort, happy ending

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

“Hey.” 

The cushion dipped slightly next to you. You almost flinched, you hadn’t heard him come in. Jason softly adjusted against the couch, his arm resting atop the back of the cushions as he faced you. You were sitting in the manor’s living room, knees to your chest when you zoned out in the quiet room.

“Hi,” you said, softly. You knew why he was here. He was the third person to come in – the first and second being Bruce and Dick, respectively. You wanted to tell him to go away. To tell him that you didn't need him to coddle you, that you would be fine soon. But did you really want him to leave?

"Have you eaten yet?" His voice was soft. It usually took on that tone when he was talking to scared children. 

You didn't respond. Instead, you moved your head, planting your cheek onto your knee to observe his face. His face seemed relaxed, presenting an air of nonchalance. The slight twitch of his mouth, however, betrayed his emotions. After a few moments of silence, you responded.

"No." You weren't hungry. The pain and the guilt eating away at you left little room for feelings like hunger. You shut your eyes.

The back of your throat burned and you swallowed, trying to hold back the tears. Your eyes were red from crying and they burned, feeling dry. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw her face. Her wide eyes, mouth hung open from her slack jaw. You turned your head back to face forward, head buried in your knees. You tightened your arms around your knees, your fingers burrowed into your skin. 

Jason placed a hand on your shoulder. The warmth from his palm made you return to the present, albeit slightly. You heard his low voice speaking softly into the still air.

"Look at me. Please.” His tone wasn’t demanding, only gentle. You turned your head a bit towards him. He brought another hand up, laying it on your cheek to guide your head to fully face him. It felt cool against your heated face. His brows furrowed. “Let me help you, sweetheart. Just tell me what you need.”

His visible concern and care made your eyes tear up. Why were you crying again? When Dick and Bruce tried comforting you, you were emotionless – nothing they said evoked your tears. The only difference this time was that it was Jason. Jason.

At the sight of a tear running down your face, he put his other hand on your cheek – one thumb wiped away the tear while the other softly caressed the flushed skin. 

"Tell me." The words were whispers against your face. You reached your hands up and laid them atop his. 

"I," you hesitated. "I think I need a hug." The last word of your sentence was accompanied by a broken sob, more tears running down your cheeks.

Jason pulled you in immediately, adjusting you so that you're sitting on his lap, your face burrowed into the crook of his neck. His arms wrapped around you and your hands rested on his chest, fisting his shirt. The tears came down harder now, your cries louder with them. You felt his hand rubbing up and down your back, the soothing motion gradually calming your body.

After a few minutes, your sobs finally quieted, only hiccuped breaths escaped you. You pulled away slightly, realizing you wet his shirt with your tears. 

"I-I'm sorry…" you whispered. He shook his head, his lips brushing against your head.

"Don't apologize." The hand rubbing your back moved up to hold the back of your head. "Do you feel a little better?" 

You nodded lightly. You felt mostly tired so you told him just that.

"I could carry you to your bed if you want." The nonchalance in his voice made your heart skip a beat. You wanted him to hold you again so you agreed.

"Okay," you said, nodding. He shifted his arms – one under your knees with the other on your back – and hoisted you up, standing up from the couch. The ease with which he picked you up would've made your face hot, if it weren't for the tears that already did so. You realized you must’ve looked awful, tears and snot running down your face. The thought made you bury your face into his shirt again, your arms moving to rest around his neck. 

You didn't notice, but Jason's lips quirked at your actions.

"Thank you," you whispered. He hummed in response, the cadence of it sounding like 'no problem' or 'of course I would help you'. 

The rest of the walk to your room was quiet and you listened to the sound of his heart the entire way. When he arrived at the door of your bedroom, he pushed it open, walked inside and let it shut as he moved to gently lay you down onto your bed. 

"Jason?" The word was almost too quiet to be heard, but he caught it anyway. He hummed again in reply. "Could you stay with me a bit longer..?

A small smile played on his lips. He took the side of your bed, laying down next to you and faced you. You laid on your side, facing him as well. It was silent for a moment.

"Hi," you whispered. 

"Hi," he breathed back. 

"I probably look like a mess, don't I?" You let out a watery chuckle and wiped your eyes. 

"No," he muttered. "You don't." You could've sworn you heard something like longing in his voice. 

"Thanks, again," you began. "The hug really helped." You allowed a slight smile to grace your lips, but they quivered as you took in more steady breaths to calm yourself. 

"I'll always help you. No matter what you need." Jason sounded resolute, like the idea was engraved in his very being. His hand found yours and held it, the warmth combining with yours. 

The action made you push forward, encircling your arms around his body and pushing your face into his chest. He didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around you, resting one hand on your head with the other resting on your back. You both held each other tight. After a minute, you heard him speak.

"It wasn't your fault." His voice was raspy – the words spoken into your hair. You shook your head, not agreeing with him. "I'm serious. You couldn't have made it in time. She was already–"

His words broke off as he felt you shake, your breath coming out unevenly. His hand started rubbing your back again, his lips leaving small kisses on your head.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up." Your hands held on tighter, trying to will the memory away. 

"No," you managed to say. "It's okay." 

His lips rested on your head and you nudged your face into his shirt, breathing in his scent. It calmed you further. 

"I just…If I was just a bit faster, a bit better, she wouldn't have died." Having put that into the air, it felt that much more true. If you had made it to the warehouse faster, the girl might have survived. Instead, just as you arrived, you saw her dead body – all bruised and broken – hung up like a doll for a show. Her lifeless eyes were wide and her broken jaw made her mouth hang open. The sight of it shook you to your core. Scenes like these were just one of the many gruesome sides to being a vigilante. 

What was worse, was the fact that her killer was still roaming free. He escaped just before you arrived and Bruce was still tracking him down. Who knows who his next victim would be. It was your fault.

"She was already dead an hour prior, before we knew of her." Jason spoke, breaking your train of thought. "Her death isn't on you. It's on him." 

"But, I should've caught him. I didn't-" 

He cut you off. "You're not the first nor the last to let a criminal go. Don't dwell on it, it won't do you any good." His voice became softer. "Trust me."

You allowed his words to sink into you. He was right. Jason continued talking.

"We'll just have to catch him before another person is taken." His hand carried on rubbing up and down your back. "I heard from Dickface they got some evidence at the crime scene. It won't be long before we know where he is." 

Hope bubbled in your chest. You pulled away, sitting up.

"I should go help them." You made an attempt to move off the bed but Jason's hand caught your arm, pulling you back into him. This time, his front was to your back and his arms wound around your stomach, resting his hands there.

"No, you shouldn't," he breathed into your neck, his breath tickling your skin. "What you need is some rest and to gobble down some food. You're not going anywhere until you sleep."

The position you were in made your heart hammer in your chest. You felt more heat creep into your already flushed face. Your hands moved to lay across his own. 

"Okay," you replied, taking a deep breath and settling into the bed. "Will you stay with me?" 

Your inquiry secretly held two questions – one of them not referring to the position you were both in. You weren't ready to speak about your feelings, so camouflaged words were enough for now.

"Yeah." His face pressed into your nape, leaving a small kiss with his breath. His affirmation seemed to reply to both your questions, though you knew that wasn't possible. 

You interlocked one of his hands with your own and brought it to your mouth. Pressing a gentle kiss onto his skin, you felt him smile against your nape and with that, you closed your eyes. Only the sounds of both your steady breaths filled the room and you fell asleep. Luckily, it was a dreamless sleep – one you really needed.

You awoke a few hours later with your head resting on his chest and your legs intertwined together. Maybe if you told him how you felt, this would happen more often. You let out a sleepy grin and closed your eyes again, cherishing the steady rise and fall of his chest. With time, you would work on the after-effects of witnessing the scene in the warehouse, but for now, you enjoyed the feeling of your body resting against his.

[002yb]

jaybin who acts tough and snarky most times but secretly insecure because since nightwing is unofficially the Most Desired Bachelor among superheroes there are times he feels like dick can always do better than him :c

Premise: Dick and Jason being close during Jason's time as Robin. Batman and Nightwing having joint custody of Jaybin.

Oh, this boy would have so many mixed feelings. On the one hand he would be so incredibly proud. Downright smug, even. That Dick is so well received and revered in the hero community would just give Jason so much joy.

Because he's been there for Dick's lows; his trials and tribulations, the disappointments, the failures, the losses. Jason was also there to see Dick's persistence in coming back from every setback - that resolve and fortitude, the discipline and diligence and passion. Sacrifices made and experience painstakingly earned.

Dick is highly capable. He has a work ethic that speaks of drive and ambition; an ability to lead bolstered by a natural inclination to take responsibility, to be accountable; to take care of others. Trustworthy. Steady. More than anything though, Dick is good.

For such incredible, amazing heroes to recognize those inherent qualities in Dick - the ones Jason loves so much - of course he would be happy. This is a community Dick thrives in and fits with; that they see him for who he is (how Jason sees him); it's wonderful.

And Jason knows, he knows, that Dick isn't perfect. Jason has seen it for himself what a damn nightmare Dick can be. Dick gets lost in his own head - trapped - when he gets overwhelmed. He withdraws from the people who care for him, who can help him because he refuses to bleed on anyone. He's a stubborn ass. Passionate to the point of cruelty, sometimes - capable of getting so focused he loses sight of the important things.

But he tries. He tries. More and more, harder and harder. Unrelenting, unapologetic; damn near compulsive until he gets it right.

Dick has fucked up a lot. It's why he does so well now - he learns and puts into practice and does better.

So on the one hand, of course Jason is happy that Dick is respected in a community of respectable people. These heroes - they're Dick's equals. Equally as hardworking, equally as kind - just as good, though Jason would argue not nearly as warm or wild or wonderful.

On the other hand - and Jason comes to this realization slowly - Jaybin doesn't measure up. Sure, he stands alongside Bruce/Batman at these meetings of heroes. He stays with Dick at times, too. The more he's exposed to the community though, the more he realizes that he doesn't fit. He doesn't measure up. He's not good enough.

Insecurity follows Jason like a shadow; it drapes over him like a shroud. Only it would have been a long time since he's felt it so viscerally. Because being Robin - being with Batman and Nightwing (Bruce and Dick)...they bolstered him. His life with them would have become a comfortable thing; he would have been so confident with them in their own little safe (metaphorically) space of Gotham and Bludhaven.

So Jason would psyche himself out with too many unfair comparisons. And he'd unwittingly pull away because of it - a little less quippy, a little more snappy. Less playful orneriness and more prickly anger. Because Jason might always be easily spooked and more easily threatened; defensive and combative because of it.

And obviously Dick is aware that something is wrong, but Jason isn't exactly forthcoming with his vulnerabilities. So he reaches out however he can (and it's good when it's just them - at least until it's not. At least until Jason starts pushing Dick towards their colleagues and hiding himself away, nearly beneath Batman's cape for how close he keeps to him). And just. Dick not being able to fathom Jason being insecure around all the other heroes because Jason is something of a hero to him.

Excerpt from here:

...Jason is a punkass on a good day and a brat on the others; he’s abrasive and difficult and frustrating, but Jason is sweet.  Jason is painfully kind-hearted.  The compassion he has for people, the lengths he’ll go for them; that selfless devotion and depthless empathy is wonderful and terrifying and beautiful.  Jason is sensitive–so damn fucking sensitive, a weakness made into a strength like Dick has never seen.  And Jason is brave, braver than anyone Dick has ever met before. Brave for seeing Robin as something wonderful.  Brave for seeing Dick as something worth anything at all. Jason’s resilience is inspiring.  The way he gets up after getting knocked down; the way he falls and crashes and burns and walks it the fuck off.  The strength in that, the emotional strength to carry that weight and the burdens of someone like Dick–undeserving and cruel and ugly–fuck.  Jason is, Jason is… The world has hurt him.  People have hurt him.  Dick hurt him.  And yet Jason is still so breathtakingly vulnerable; more gentle and kind and strong and caring than anyone Dick has ever known.

Basically, Dick feels as highly of Jason as Jason does of Dick. So even when his friends - Roy, let's say - points out to him that Jason is probably overwhelmed and insecure, Dick is bemused because what?? About what? Because Jaybin, Jason, is magic - far as Dick is concerned. Who the fuck made him insecure?

And Roy, because Roy has gone through it, too (he loves Dick, but Dick is a lot to measure up to), just gives a weak laugh because oh, Grayson. Buddy. It's Dick. It's everyone towards Dick. Dick is kind of the ideal, doesn't he know? A good hero to be; a top hero to get dicked down by. Dick knows how it is.

Meanwhile Dick is just like - no. Very much no, what? Because he's only got eyes on Jason, honestly. Whether or not they're a thing. Their hero community is a professional place. The only dubious going-on is the thing Dick has going with potential jailbait situation Jaybin.

Anyway, while Dick and Roy are having that heart to heart, just like. Wally being the one to seek out Jason on Dick's behalf (because Dick has been fretting and lbr Dick's being too slow in checking in on his protege/brother/boyfriend), so. He'll help his friend out.

And omgggggg Jason not liking it one bit. So he bails on Wally constantly until it becomes a game of hide and seek, basically. With Jason getting more and more creative with his hiding places, but Wally is just faster.

He tires Jason out. They have a heart to heart. Wally doesn't necessarily find it funny that Jason is so distressed, but he does get a bit of a kick out of the situation because Dick is the same. With thinking he's not good enough (for what he has, for what he's worked for, for Jason).

And Wally doesn't divulge all of Dick's secrets, but he'd provide some assurance because this is Dick's boy. And because Wally is Wally.

Then Dick and Jason would finally communicate. Only while Jason is getting mad at Dick for not understanding that Dick can do so much better, Dick is just sat there marveling Jason even as Jason tears them both apart. It'd spur Jason on more to be looked over with such tenderness; he'd snap at Dick to listen.

Only Dick would break him down with the most earnest: 'You're too good to me. For me.'

After which Dick would throw down the counter-argument of a lifetime because for all the heroes here, Dick only has one.

(Two, he corrects himself later. Because Superman, lol).

======

Situations where Jason feels insecure over anything are so sad ahhhhhhhh. ;A; Also this sort of a little niche, hopefully it's enjoyable enough though! Thank you for the scenario, anon!!

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

My HEART!!!! Can we get Bruce walking in on or watching sweetie!reader with Dick? Him having to take in her looking so frail and being in a scarf, while also seeing Dick warm up to her and all the angst of “she could’ve been my wife by now”

Bruce took the mug Alfred proffered and watched you, eyes warm and your voice comforting- listening to everything Dick said and making few comments of your own unless it was to encourage him. The thinking parts of his brain are distracted, trying to follow the rules of the game you were teaching him. And that left him able to talk about other things. It was in fits and starts, sure. But you, he knew, had gotten more out of him in a little over an hour than Bruce had managed in three days.

"I'd never seen her work before," Alfred said softly.

"Me either," Bruce answered.

"It's something, isn't it?" Harvey said. "Commissioner Gordon tapped her to teach the GCPD how to talk to kids." Harvey watched you, he could see you fighting fatigue every step of the way and he hated it. He hated watching you suffer.

"How is she?" Bruce asked, "I mean really not-"

"She's depressed," Harvey said quietly. "She said it's like she can feel the clock ticking down and there's too much to do." He doesn't say that you can't handle looking at yourself right now. That you screamed the other day when you caught sight of yourself in the mirror in the hall from the corner of your eye- too tired and disoriented to remember you'd shaved your head. That you called him in a panic thinking there was someone in the house.

"Poor girl," Alfred said, watching Bruce from the corner of his eye as you gathered Dick into your lap with a book- something you could do in this instance when he started talking about his parents and got sad. Because you were there as a friend, not a doctor.

Bruce swallowed hard, hating himself. If he hadn't been such an idiot, you would be home. He could have you getting treatment here, where he could take care of you. "She never gets-"

"Yeah she does, Bruce," Harvey said, snorting. "She gets depressed all the time."

"She never said-"

"Not to you," Harvey shot back, remembering long nights sitting on a roof somewhere, sharing a bottle of wine you'd personally stolen from your parents. Listening to you. The impostor syndrome. How much you worried about Bruce. What your brother was doing to you now. It all bled out of you. The one thing he got that Bruce didn't. Bruce got your worry and your fussing- not that you didn't fuss over him too. But Harvey got this- the stolen time with you, getting you drunk and making you laugh.

When Dick scampered away with Alfred to find some cookies and decide what to eat for dinner, Harvey exhaled sharply, "I should get her home-"

The other man nodded, "I'll call her tomorrow. Take her to lunch and have her give me her run down." He can't look when you snuggle into Havey's side and tilt your chin up for a kiss hello. He can't see how small and breakable you are. The way Harvey cradles your jaw, trailing his fingers down the side of your neck tenderly. It's only a moment. A flash. But it knocks the air out of his lungs. He thought he had time. That he could work up the guts to tell you-

But what he hadn't counted on was someone braver. And what he hadn't counted on was you. Loving someone else. Needing someone else. Because like so many times before, Bruce was letting you down. And as he watched Harvey pick up your work bag and help you into your coat, he can't help but hate himself for hoping you weren't as in love with Harvey as you seemed.

[stuckyfingers]

We need to talk about bi-demisexual Steve Rogers.

It fits him so well. I can easily see him going through the utter confusion of bisexuality that's so much worse because of being demi.

(by my fanon) he becomes friends with a girl in elementary and suddenly develops a huge crush on her. She seems to like him too, and even kisses him. He thinks he's straight and hopes he'll find someone like her.

Two years later, he meets his first real friend Bucky. It takes years for feelings to form and surface, but when they do, Steve forgets how he ever saw him as a friend. By the time they're fifteen, Steve is in love and he can no longer deny the fact that he was a queer. His dreams that shook him awake with damp underwear and the images that his brain chose to focus on while jerking off were of the same person.

He's convinced that he's a homosexual, as he doesn't find a single girl attractive in those years.

Then, he gets closer to Rebecca Barnes- which was a weird relationship, because he saw her as something of a sister in law. But she was also the only girl of his age he could call a real friend. And so he tried to also encourage the part of him that found her pretty- it was a better explanation of his love for a boy that shared much of her looks.

It's not until 1943 that he's reunited with his middle school crush by incident of chance. He's not the one to jump into a woman's bed before marriage, but the fact that he found himself attracted to her made it a better prospect than coming to terms with his homosexuality. Especially since the serum cured all his ailments, right? He was no longer sick in the mind.

He lets go of his Catholic values for a night, if it meant coming closer to heterosexuality. And that's how he loses his virginity to a girl on the USO tour in 1943.

He knew he was attached to people, and that his love didn't light up at first sight. And the only woman he had romanced up to this point was his literal middle school crush.

Until Peggy. He didn't feel much for Peggy, especially in the relief he felt at having Bucky at his side again... but he had a admiration for her that he didn't have for most other women. It never felt like what Bucky did to him, but he took it as it went. A badass British spy who taught him to fight like a soldier: He let her pull him into kisses. He let her make dates with him. He just didn't have the heart to stay in this world once Bucky had left it.

Out of the ice, romantic relationships were the last thing on his mind. Until Sam Wilson. It was a brief, but fiery spark that ended up with his first kiss since 1945. He was shaking, because his encounter only proved that he was a homosexual. But Sam had more comforting words on the matter. He shared his own story of coming to terms with it. It made Steve feel better.

Steve didn't know why he never felt attracted to any other man if he was a homosexual. Thor's impressive muscles and noble bearing, Bruce's shy demeanor and quiet intelligence. He could appreciate them, but he never found himself getting hard for someone he didn't know for more than at least a month. The time period varied, but there was something in common. He had to get emotionally close to them before his dick would even twitch. He thought he was old fashioned.

Then came Natasha. After saving her and taking her to Sam's place, he felt a jolt of butterflies and heat in the place of indifference when she stripped off her clothes between battles. As more intimate and heartfelt things passed between them, he felt like he was getting these rare tastes of heterosexuality.

But he also liked Sam. In nights after being fished out of the Potomac, he guiltily jerked off to Sam's beautiful landscape of muscles crafted from hours of flying and doing combat mid-air. There was something about the man's smile, jokes and quiet kindness that made Steve swoon.

And this was not made better by the memory of Bucky's tortured expression bungee jumping on his heartstrings.

He felt so close to his friends. And he felt so guilty for how he jerked off to every one of them.

He still had a complicated way of seeing sex, and the fact that he also wanted to do it with men.

He tried his best to be straight. Sam was alright keeping it platonic after the few nights, because it was objectively better that way. Steve never mentioned it to Bucky even when he technically had the chance to.

Steve settled for kissing Sharon Carter. It felt logical in some way, but he had no idea what he was doing. Nat seemed to be okay with inserting some benefits into their friendship when they were on the run with Bucky still frozen in Wakanda.

Steve actually loved the no strings kinda thing. He made sure to treat her with a consciously large amount of respect, because he didn't want to use her- but she didn't seem to be worried about whether he would respect her or not.

[thesuperiorrobin]

He has feeling?

Damian Wayne x Fem!Reader

Warning: slight violence in the beginning, mentions of blood, cursing,

Summery: Damian has been coming home late after his patrol, coming home smelling like strong feminine perfume. His brother follow him one night and they are in for a surprise

“What is he doing?”

“Who is that?!?”

“The demon spawn has himself a girlfriend?!”

Dick, Jason, Timothy, dressed in their suits as they all watched as their heartless brother laughed and joked with a girl, in his Robin suit.

“Would you three please just zip it for a moment?” Bruce hushes them quickly as they hide and listen. They know it’s not right to eavesdrop one someone’s conversation but seeing their younger brother joke around, especially with a girl, was a sight to see for the family.

“ I can't believe you and your family fought for a cookie. '' You laughed leaning against Damians shoulder, the texture of his suit hurting your cheeks but you pushed it aside.

“What can i say beloved, Pennyworths cookies are the best of the best out in the world” Damian chuckles out leaning his own head down against yours, linking your fingers with his tan ones.

“Did he just call that girl beloved?!”

“Dick shut up, they'll hear you!” Jason and Timothy said in sync as they shushed the ex-older Robin.

“I like when you talk about your family like this” you mumbled “makes me feel like I’ve meet them already”

Damian kissing the crown of your head making you smile slightly

“Now’s not the right moment but soon. It’s only fair considering I’ve already met your parents”

“Damn right it’s only fair. And they love you by the way. My mom adores you and my dad, well he’s just being like every other dad when their daughters bring home a handsome boy” you laugh as you look up at the vigilante boy.

“I’m sure when my own family meets you they’ll love you more then me” Damian smiles as you gasp lightly slapping his shoulder

“Don’t say that!” you scold “I’m sure they’ll just adore me for making their brother and son fall head over heels for a simple girl”

“Simple isn’t a word I’d describe you beloved. There are other amazing words to describe you with” Damian added. You hum leaning close to his warmth.

“But….” You trail off, biting your lip

“But what beloved?”

“What if your family doesn’t like me?” You fiddle with the zipper of your jacket. Damian glanced down at you before letting out a scuff

“If they don’t approve of our relationship then they’ll just have to suck it up. I’m not about to let go of someone I love because someone else isn’t happy with it” Damian's serious, You could tell because of the tone in his voice shift. Damian would not care if his own family disapproved of his relationship with you, he would not care if they disowned him, which is not something they would do.

“Dami that’s like…that most romantic thing I’ve heard you say out loud” you let out a giggle as you leaned up slightly kissing his jaw, snuggling closer to the nape of his neck. Damian scuffs as he pulled the hood of his cap over his head, trying to hide the deep blush that coated his tan cheeks.

You tried to hide the yawn that creeps out of your mouth. You don’t want Damian to leave just yet, but to your luck he notices. Damian smiles softly as he nudges his shoulder lightly. You lift your head up as Damian gets up from his spot, pulling you up with him. You groan.

“Can’t we just talk for three more hours” You whine as he drags you to your bedroom window.

“Believe me beloved I would love that” he mumbles “but you're tired. Get some rest. I’ll come visit you tomorrow night like I always do. Promise”

You him as you pulled out your pinky smiling.

“Promise?”

Damian smiles as he links his pinky with yours

“Promise”

Damian opens your window and helps you get back inside the comfort of your own bedroom. Before he can close it you turn around placing a small gentle kiss on his lips, Damian quickly kisses back. The vigilant boy chases after your lips as you pull away, making you giggle.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night Damian. Night”

“Goodnight beloved”

He closes the windows shut, before parting away from your window he makes sure you lock it. Once the sound of your locking it reaches his ears he’s on his way back home. Dick, Jason, and Timothy all star in shock at the small moment that had witnessed between you and sidekicks. All hell broke loose before Bruce even noticed. Dick complains about how Damian never told him he had a girlfriend , Jason thinking this is just a big prank Damian has been planning and knows that they were secretly watching him, and Tim—poor boy just wanted to go home to sleep.

Bruce, the old man could actually believe it. He has himself a little girlfriend. Deep down he’s actually really proud of his son thinking about how Damian had to push by the “I don’t need friends they disappoint me’ phase and actually started talking to kids his own age, making a friend and slowly but surely becoming something more. Bruce had never been more proud. From afar he can see his son stop and wave at you, you did the same one last time before closing the blinds, the lights in your room turning off. For once his son isn’t hiding his feelings anymore, well he's hiding them from his own family, but not from the person he loves the most. You got to give him points for that right?

[ragingbookdragon]

What Is A Mother, But The Woman Who Loves Us Most?

A Batmom x Batfamily One-Shot

Word Count: 3.3K Warnings: Angst

Author's Note: I know there is a story like this already (by a different author) but I should preface that this is a story that I posted a year or so before but deleted my previous blog last year, so it's not going to seem like it. I haven't copied any ideas, this is my own that I posted a year or so ago, and re-posting again now. -Thorne

You are not my mother!

The loathing words came out of his mouth before he could stop them, and he watched the cave go deathly quiet around him. Everyone's eyes were wide, even hers, but a millisecond later, they set in a hard stare as she stood straight, her jaw tightening.

She nodded, staring at him. "You're right Damian. I'm not Talia al Ghul. I'm not your mother. But I will tell you what I am." She raised her left hand, flashing the silver wedding ring on her finger. "I'm your father's wife. And what I tell you to do in this manor is what I expect from you."

He shook his head in anger, glaring at her. "This is my father's manor!"

"No Damian, this is the Wayne Manor. And I've been, to use a rather weathered term, the lady of the house for almost fifteen years. Long before you were even a thought in Talia's mind." He stopped and she crossed her arms. "I may not be your mother, but you are a child and your father and I are the adults. When you turn eighteen, you can make all the decisions you want. Until then, what we say goes."

His lips drew in a taut line and she added, "I've already talked about it to Bruce. You're not allowed on patrol after what happened at the gala. If you want to complain to him about it, he's going to tell you the same thing." Her eyes shifted to the others, then she looked back at him one last time before turning around and walking up the stairs.

When she was gone, he let out a shout in anger and threw silver coffee pot against the cave wall. It hit the wall with a clang and dropped, rolling on the ground a few times as it spilled its contents, much like his mood.

He felt their eyes on them and he whipped his head up, glaring at them. "What?!"

Tim and Jason simply narrowed their eyes at him, but Dick walked forward and knelt in front of him. "Kiddo, that wasn't a nice thing to say to mom."

Damian scoffed at him before shoving past, climbing up the stairs. “Like the three of you haven't said that to her before." There was no return to his statement, giving him all the answer, he needed.

***

He stepped out of the study stretching his arms and listening to the sound of his bones popping before he shifted, moving towards the door. The boys had left a few minutes earlier to catch a rerun of an episode of Vikings, leaving him alone in the cave.

Alfred walked up to him, handing him a sweater before motioning to the door. "Mrs. Wayne has taken a seat out on the patio. I suspect you'll wish to see her."

Bruce nodded, taking the sweater from him before thanking him and moving out of the study and towards the patio. He crossed into the living room as he did, stopping to stare at his four sons passed out on the couch. The TV was still going, so he leaned down, gently taking the remote from Dick's hand and shutting it off.

He set the remote down and started his path again, but stopped when he heard, "You going to check on mom?" He turned around, looking at a his oldest.

Bruce nodded, taking in the sight of Dick’s arms wrapped around all of his brothers. “After you boys told me what happened, I thought I should talk to her about it."

Dick nodded, reaching up and rubbing his eyes, careful not to wake the others beside him. "He didn't mean it...he'll see that when he gets over being angry."

Bruce nodded and leaned over, ruffling his hair. “Tell Jason that you two should stay at the manor tonight...it's too late for you to head home anyway."

Dick started to argue, but a look from his father and quick, “Your mother would have a fit if you two tried to drive home now or later…you know that.”

His son nodded and Bruce turned around once more, this time making his way to the dimly lit patio. His hand curled around the cool metal handle of the sliding glass door, and he quietly opened it, stepping out onto the deck. She lay on the porch swing, covered by a heavy hound’s tooth blanket, with a barely full wine glass in her hand.

He walked towards her and bent over, picking up the wine bottle; he shook it lightly before quipping, "I can't believe you've drank an entire bottle in one sitting."

As if finally noticing his presence, she tipped her head lazily to him and mumbled, "It's empty?"

He snorted and tipped the bottle upside down. "As it was the day before it was bottled."

Bruce paused and grinned as she huffed a laugh and brought the glass she had in her hand up to her mouth. He watched her down the rest of her red wine before she set the glass on the table; he set the bottle beside it and shifted her forward, easing his way behind her until they were both comfortable. She rested her back against his chest, her head dropping against his shoulder. His arms came up around her as he pulled the blanket up to her neck, keeping her warm.

He was quiet for a second then he murmured, "...The boys told me what happened earlier."

There was a moment of silence, then she whispered, "I know I should be used to it after hearing it come from each of them..." She stopped, then continued with, "But it still stings to hear it."

A sad smile crossed his lips as he pressed his lips to her temple. "Of course it stings (Y/N)...you're their mother and you love them." After he didn't receive a response from her, he tipped his head and looked down. "(Y/N)? Love?" She turned her head, and he took in the sight of the tears in her eyes; his face fell at the sight and he brought a hand up, cupping her cheek. "Oh…sweetheart."

(Y/N) choked out a sob and pressed her face into the crook of his neck as she clenched a hand in his sweater. Bruce rested his chin on the top of her head as he rubbed her back, comforting her with quiet words.

***

Damian watched them from the screen door, feeling his heart clench in his chest at the sight of (Y/N) sobbing. He swallowed thickly and stepped back, only to come into contact with someone—something. He let out a quiet gasp and spun around, seeing Dick staring sadly out at his parents, Tim and Jason behind him doing the same.

Damian looked at them and whispered, "What are you three doing?"

Dick glanced at him briefly before motioning to them. "We heard the sliding door open, and we went to listen."

"I didn't know you were eavesdroppers."

A hand came up and cuffed him upside the head; he held his head, glaring at Jason who bit out, "Shut up, two-bit. You were eavesdropping too."

Damian opened his mouth to retort, but shut it and turned back around, looking at her. A moment passed, then he mumbled, "You said the same thing I did." He looked up at his brothers, who wore clouded expressions; each of them nodded after a few seconds, and he asked, "What happened?"

Dick was the first to speak, remembering a time from when he was a mere ten years old.

***

He stomped angrily through the house, not even caring about her following him; she called after him repeatedly. "Dick. Dick, honey, stop for a second."

He didn't listen, still moving. "No! You grounded me!"

"And I grounded you for a reason. You deliberately disobeyed me." He grunted at her and she called out, her voice ringing with authority, "Richard John Grayson. Not another step young man." He stopped at it and she continued, "You left the cave tonight and went on patrol without asking. As your mom-"

He spun around, his eyes angered as he spit, "You're not my mom! Stop acting like it!" Her mouth shut, and her eyes went wide from the declarations.

She blinked, obviously stunned at his words, and she stared down at her hands murmuring, "I may not be your real mother...but I...I am...I..." She drew off, bringing a hand up to wipe at her cheek. Dick's widened when she looked up at him, and he saw the tears beginning to spill, running down her cheeks.

He raised his hands out to her. "Wait! I—I didn't mean it!"

(Y/N) looked down and she brought a hand up to her mouth, moving past him, letting out a broken, 'excuse me'. He watched her go past him, then a few moments later, Bruce walked into the room and he turned to him.

"Bruce!" Bruce looked down at him, taking in the sight of Dick, who was almost in tears.

The lecture he had ready for him went out the window as he squatted in front of Dick. "Dick?"

The boy looked up at him, tears filling those big blue eyes. "I—I messed up B-Bruce."

He reached out a hand, wiping his tears away. "What happened Dick?"

Dick lowered his head and he whispered, "I a—accidently told (Y/N) that she wasn't my m-mom."

Bruce sighed at him and murmured, “Oh, Dick." The boy began to sob, and Bruce reached out, pulling him into a hug. "It's okay, bud."

***

Dick looked at her and murmured, "I've never forgotten the look she gave me after I said it to her..." He looked down at Damian, and said, "And neither has she."

Jason nodded at that. "I'm sure she's never forgotten how I left the cave telling her I had to go find my real mom.

***

"What are you looking at baby?"

He jerked forward, clicking the screen to minimize the images. "Nothing!" He spun around to see her walking towards him, an amused smile on her face.

"And I'm assuming that nothing is not important?" She questioned.

He nodded. "Not at all."

She stared at him until he sighed and turned around, clicking the screen to reveal the images of the three women; she walked up to him. "Who are these women?"

He pointed to each one. "Sharmin Rosen, Lady Shiva, and Sheila Haywood."

(Y/N) nodded, looking at them. "They're very pretty women." She paused and looked at him. "But why are you looking at them." He dropped his gaze and picked at his fingers. "Jason? Hon?"

He looked back up at her. "One of them is my mom."

Her eyes widened as she said, "Like...your biological mom?"

He nodded. "I found out after I went back to my old apartment." He looked between the screen and (Y/N). "I'm gonna track them down." She was silent, her eyes moving to the screen, and he turned to her, rising from the chair. "I have to go find them...I have to go find my real mom."

***

"And those were the last words I ever said to Ma." They stared at Jason as he leaned against a table by the door. "And it got a lot worse when I came back...I said horrible things to Ma...about her not caring...about her not being a mother." He went silent and shook his head. "I fucked up a lot of things between us for a good couple years."

Tim watched him, then nodded. "I hadn't even realized I'd actually said it to mom...it was such an offhanded comment that I didn't even know what I said until she was gone."

***

He barely registered the sound of his bedroom door opening, let alone the sound of her footsteps as she walked up to him. He did, however, hear the disappointment in her tone as she said, "Timmy...you need to go to bed."

He shook his head, typing on the keyboard. "I'm fine."

"Honey, you've been awake for almost forty-eight hours." She rested a hand on his shoulder. "It's not good for your body if you stay up like this."

"I'm fine. Really, I'm good."

She squeezed his shoulder, the other hand reaching out to close the laptop. "You'll be good when you're asleep in bed." Skimming the top of this laptop, she stopped when his curled around her wrist.

He turned to her and said, "Will you stop mothering me? I'm fine. I don't need your help."

He let go of her and turned back to the screen, barely registering the way she quietly whispered, “Alright Timmy...goodnight”, and walked out of his room.

***

"The only reason I actually realized what I said was after a few minutes, I realized that she hadn't told me she loved me after saying good night." He paused, digging a groove into the carpet with his toes. "Mom didn't say anything about it the next day, but I could tell that something had shifted. She was more reserved when it came to me." He looked at Damian. "Look, I know you and I don't get along, but I'm going to tell you something brother to brother. Go apologize to mom and tell her that you didn't mean it."

It was all he said before he looked at the others and waved. "I'm going to bed.

Jason soon followed saying, "I'm with Timbers. I'm gonna go crash."

The two of them began making their way to their rooms when the sound of the screen door opening and closing brought their attention back. They looked towards it, seeing Bruce carrying (Y/N), her head pressed against his chest.

He stopped when he saw them, his surprised look giving way to a hard expression. "Were you four watching?" They all started making excuses, but he shushed them, nodding at their sleeping mother; they shut their mouths and he brought his foot back, sliding the door closed.

"Is mom alright?"

Bruce looked at Dick and nodded. "She's fine. Wine drunk...but fine." He looked down at Damian. "(Y/N) does a lot for all of us. You owe her an apology when she wakes up." Damian nodded, watching as he walked past them, carrying her up the stairs to their bedroom.

***

The dull throb in her head told her the migraine was something she was going to need some aspirin, water, and a heavy blanket to block out the light to fix. She groaned lightly as she burrowed her face in her pillow, then she opened her eyes and looked around the room.

Immediately, she took in the sight of the four of her boys curled up like cats in the bed with her. A smile graced her lips and she reached down beside her hip, running a hand over Tim's head; he shifted in his sleep, burying his face in her side and she struggled to bite back the laugh that wanted to come out. She reached over again and ran her hands through Dick and Jason's hair, watching them do the same.

She smiled at them, then a voice sounded from beside her. "Are you awake, Umi?" (Y/N) looked to her side, seeing Damian curled up beside her. Bruce's broad shoulders made him look so tiny from where he was laying and she nodded, raising a hand and caressing his head.

"I'm awake, sweetheart." He nodded, then moved under her arm, resting his head on her shoulder. Her arm settled comfortably around him, and she brought up her hand, gently running her fingers through his short hair.

After a few moments he whispered, "...I'm sorry, Umi."

Her response was to press her lips to his forehead, and murmur, "I know, baby."

He swallowed thickly, feeling the beginnings of tears gathering in his eyes. "I didn't mean to say it."

She nodded; her lips still pressed to his forehead. "I know you didn't, sweetheart. It was something said in anger."

He moved to sit up, looking up at her as he whispered harshly, "But I have hurt you! I made you cry! I...did this." He dropped his gaze, closing his eyes, and (Y/N) watched the tears begin to fall down his cheeks. He looked back up at her a few seconds later and said, "You are my mother, Umi...you are the only mother I've known."

(Y/N) shifted, careful not to wake her sons, then she cupped Damian's cheeks in her hands. "Baby...it's okay...I'm not angry at you."

He shook his head in her grip. "But you're sad because I said you weren't my mother."

(Y/N) brushed her thumbs under his eyes, wiping away the tears. "We all say things that we don't mean." He looked up at her and she searched his eyes. "What matters is that when they are said, we try our best to fix what we've done wrong."

Damian nodded his head and whispered, "I'm sorry, Umi."

A sad smile crossed her lips and she leaned forward, kissing his forehead. "I am too, baby." She pulled away and brushed his cheeks again. "I still love you though...with all my heart."

"You do? Even after what I said?"

(Y/N) nodded, pulling him to her; he rested his head under her chin, and she wrapped her arms around him as she murmured, "The heart of a mother is a deep abyss at the bottom of which you will always find forgiveness." She brought up a hand, caressing the side of his head as she whispered, "Each of you has told me as some point that I am not what I am. But I know deep down that none of you meant it. And each time I heard it, it hurt...but forgiveness is a good thing when used."

"To err is human...to forgive...divine."

She smiled at his quote and squeezed him gently. "I love you, Damian...my beautiful baby boy."

The feeling of tears gathered in his eyes, but he blinked them away, his hand clenching in her shirt as he replied, "I love you too, Umi."

There was a moment of silence between them until, "How come the demon-spawn gets all the love? We were here first."

Damian raised his head, glaring at Tim. "I am Umi's favorite, Drake."

"The hell you are, Tater-tot. If anyone's the favorite, it's me."

"I think you're wrong, Little-wing. Iwas the first. I'm the favorite."

"No one asked you, dickhead."

"Mom! Jason called me a mean name!"

"Mom! Jason called me a mean name!"

"Stop mocking me!"

"Stop mocking me!"

"Mom!"

"Mom!"

(Y/N) rolled her eyes at her two oldest as they began to shove at each other, and eventually, Tim and Damian got into the mess, and she watched their fists and feet fly at each other.

A grunt sounded from beside her and she looked down to see her husband glaring at her. "You just had to get them going this early, didn't you, Mrs. Wayne?"

(Y/N) let out a 'pfft' and leaned down, pressing her lips to his before laying her head on his arm, their foreheads touching. "Yeah...but I know that when they're fighting like this, they're giving each other love."

"Tough love."

She snorted and tickled his side, feeling him jerk away. "But love nonetheless."

He opened his mouth to respond, but the sound of someone grunting cut him off. "Mom! Jason won't let me out of this headlock!"

"Mom! Jason won't let me-"

"STOP MOCKING ME, JASON!"

"You're unbearable, Drake! I am Umi's favorite!"

"Keep telling yourself that, oompa-loompa."

"I am not an oompa-loompa!"

(Y/N) sighed and looked at her husband. "Never a dull morning, is it Mr. Wayne?"

He grinned at her but grunted when one of them hit his side. "No, it's not Mrs. Wayne. No, it is not."

[songbirdstyles]

i’m on fire

summary: harry can’t keep his hands to himself after getting home from filming.

warnings: breeding kink, spanking, smut, slight fluff, pregnancy mention, slight dom/sub

word count: 2.7k

song inspo.: i’m on fire - bruce springsteen, girls on film - duran duran, tango in the night - fleetwood mac

You’ve hardly glanced in Harry’s eyes as he walks into the foyer of your London apartment before you feel your back slam into the door behind you - your head thumps against the wood and a groan threatens to rip out of your throat but he steals it before you get the chance to make the noise, lips on yours and tongue stuck down your throat.

Your hands have nowhere else to go but to bury themselves in his hair, fingers curling around chocolate brown curls and tugging until you hear the soft hitch in his breath that indicates just how much your grasp affected him. And, God, it did affect him, clearly, as he pushes his hips further against yours until you can feel the thick bulge in his pelvis grinding against the softness of your inner thigh as you hike your leg up to hoist around his waist. He moves one arm from where he had been grasping your throat as if to steady him to the present and his free hand grasps the underside of your thigh, pulling it further up his abdomen until the stretch in your muscle makes you whine.

“Jesus fuck, Har -”

He shuts you up from whatever you were going to mutter as he deepens the kiss, teeth tugging at your bottom lip as his knee grinds into your cunt until you’re crying out, goosebumps overtaking every square inch of your skin even through the thick sweatshirt adorning your upper half. You hadn’t had much of anything valuable to say, anyway, but it’s the principle of his interruption that makes you grasp for his cheeks and pull his face from yours with a heaving gasp.

“What’s gotten into you, hmm?”

You’d almost be concerned about Harry’s state if you couldn’t feel him rutting his cock against your thigh - his face is red and hot, eyes half lidded and breaths panting and desperate with each sharp inhale of oxygen. Christ, he looks a sight in the best way possible, and your instinct is to snap your thighs shut at the feeling that rushes through your body when he leans in, pressing soft lips to the sweaty skin of your throat so it muffles his response. His hands find the hem of your sweatshirt (or his sweatshirt, really) and you have half a mind to raise your arms so he can pull his lips from your neck to tug the cloth off of your torso before he finds a vein in your throat with a newfound vigor, sliding his other hand up to grope at your bare tit like a teenage boy whose only just seen one for the first time.

“Jus’ wanna love on you, hmm - wanna love on m’girl, please -”

“Hmm -”

He grunts, then. Nips at a vein in your neck that pulsates beneath his lapping tongue and you can’t help but giggle, however childlike and naive the noise sounds, but it’s enough for him to drop your thigh from around your waist - grab your cheeks and spin you around, pushing you backwards and backwards until your feet hardly feel like they’re moving, like you’re floating through the entryway of your apartment until you reach the kitchen. Though Harry loves fucking you every which way in your bed, huge and comfortable and soft, there’s something primal about pushing you against the kitchen table and ripping down your flannel sweatpants and burying himself into your heat that you know he secretly prefers over the sacred oasis of your bedroom.

Your lower back hits the edge of the island but it doesn’t stay there long before he turns you around, pushing the front of your body against the island until your body has folded in half to bend over the slab of marble, cold against your bare tits and stomach. Your boyfriend reaches around to the front of your sweatpants, then, arms wrapped around your thighs to shakily untie the knot that you had carefully tied in the strings of your pajama pants - his chest rises and falls against your back, hips still pushing into yours over and over and you jut your ass out to meet the grind of his cock against the clothed globes of your ass.

“Tied this thing fuckin’ tight, didn’t you?”

“Didn’t think you’d try to rip them off like an animal,” you retort, lifting your hips from where they’re firmly pressed to the edge of the island once Harry has successfully untied the knot, tugging your pants down the slope of your ass until they unceremoniously drop to a puddle at your feet, and you impatiently kick them off as Harry snaps the waistband of your panties just to hear you squeal. “Come on, Har - know you’re impatient -”

“Mmm.”

His finger slide beneath your panties, knuckle dragging through your slit that’s positively dripping with your slick, and you hear his low moan at how ready you are for him but the truth is you’ve been fucking dripping since he sent you a selfie of him in his makeup chair on set two days prior, hair messy and eyebrow arched, and it hadn’t even been a serious selfie but it still made your clit throb when you saw it. He’d been gone for nearly two weeks for filming when you’d gone a full year of almost never being apart and, fuck. Seeing him like that did things to you.

Harry’s yours, god fucking dammit. The thought makes you spread your thighs more for him as he dips his finger into your waiting hole, curling them up once just to watch how your back arches, how you moan as though you’d been coded to do so. It’s a game he likes to play, testing you, seeing just how needy you are for him even if all he wants to do is bury himself inside of you and fuck you until tears streak your cheeks and you’re begging him to cum.

No - no, he does want that, you know that. Wants it so bad it makes his knees weak, makes his stomach flip and turn, but he wants to watch you fall apart more than anything. Needs to know you want this just as much as he does, if not more, and if he were truly dedicated tonight he’d finger you until you came at least twice.

Neither of you can wait for that.

“Jesus fuck,” he breathes, voice raspy and full of sex and wanting and you could nearly sob as you feel him finally start to tug them hem of his joggers and boxers over his cock. “Gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

But - but -

“Wait.”

He pauses. The head of his cock pokes at your ass in a way that would be funny if the revelation you’d just been hit with hadn’t hit you yet but it has, and you turn your head to press your cheek against the marble.

“Wha’?”

“I got my birth control thing out yesterday, the one in my arm. Remember - I told you I have to get it replaced. M’getting it tomorrow.”

There’s a pause in the kitchen, then, that hangs heavy over the both of you as you hear Harry’s shaky breathing behind you. And then -

“Did you just get harder?”

Harry exhales and even without seeing him you can picture the smile on his face as he presses his hips further into yours - “M’sorry - s’hot, babe.”

“Me not being on birth control is hot?”

“Yes,” and as if for extra reassurance of just what he means, Harry pushes his cock between your thighs until it’s slotted in your slit, head nudging your clit and making your legs quiver and shake as the stimulation rolls over you, eyes rolling back and head feeling fuzzy. “Makes me wanna fuck you so bad.”

There’s a quick consideration, you suppose - of the possibility of getting pregnant and the fact that you know there’s probably not even a single condom in your apartment for him to quickly put on, and even if there was the moment would die - and, come on, you’ve been together for almost 4 years and you’ve talked about kids in passing. If it happens it happens - that’s been your philosophy on it with him.

If it happens, it happens.

And it wouldn’t be the worst thing. Harry loves kids and you love kids and more than that, you love each other like the world depends on it - could never picture yourself living life without him at this point, and more than that, there is something hot about imagining him fucking you completely raw.

“Fuck, Har,” you moan, feeling your clit spasm as you grasp the edge of the counter. “I don’t care. Fuck me, pl -”

The final word doesn’t make it out of your mouth before Harry’s slamming himself inside of you and there’s no slow or sweet - it’s raw and unfiltered, giving you half a moment to adjust to his size after two full weeks without his cock, and it’s huge, feels like it’s splitting you open, like you’re back to the first time he’d ever fucked you and you’d had the fleeting question of whether it would even fit. It did fit, though, over and over and over, and yet the first stroke always makes you gasp.

Or scream.

“Oh, shit!” your resounding moan is shrill and punctuated by your legs just about giving up, knees collapsing until the only thing holding you up is Harry’s cock slamming into your cunt over and over, his nails digging into your bare shoulder blade before scratching up to tug at your hair. Forms it into a loose ponytail to tug at your hair like a damn whip, forcing your lazed face off of the marble until you’re staring into the darkened kitchen before you with blurry, watering eyes and a cunt that already feels fucked sore from just a few thrusts.

“Oh - god,” and Harry’s voice shakes and leaks with arousal, breath picking up as he pistons into you, cock stroking spots inside of you that you didn’t even know existed before him, before he had fucked you slow and sweet and made you oh so aware of every sweet spot your cunt was filled with. God, he’s good at it, at a fast unforgiving pace that makes your head spin and your throat go raw with sobs, and you slam your palm against the island with a moan. “So fuckin’ tight f’me - made for me, right?”

You don’t respond, words feeling snatched from your tongue with every stroke of his dick into your pussy, milking every drop of arousal for all that it’s worth.

“This - this fuckin’ pussy - s’mine, isn’t it?” And when his seemingly rhetorical question goes unanswered there’s a sharp slap to the bottom of your ass that makes you shout, throat aching with the noise. “Whose fuckin’ pussy -”

“Yours!” It’s a near shriek that’s fucked out of you, and there’s another slap to your ass as you babble, “yours, Harry, yours - belongs to you -”

“Sure fuckin’ does,” and then he pulls out and you want to shout, to slam your head into the island because surely there’s nothing worse than the emptiness that fills you in the worst way possible, but just as you begin to whimper Harry is gripping your thigh, grasp tight enough that you’ll surely see bruises come morning, and he hikes your leg up over the edge of the island, exposing your near-abused pussy to him fully.

The tip of his cock runs along your slit, spreading your slickness around your folds and before you can plead with him to stop teasing he pushes back in, cock drawing along your velvet walls and eliciting a raspy moan that feels nearly involuntary at this point. His grasp on your hair is released and you nearly drop your head onto the island in surprise but then he’s leaning down, clothed chest pressed to your sweaty back, and his forearms snake beneath your neck until he’s nearly caging your neck in his arms, lips pressed to the back of your neck.

His hips pound against your ass, the sound of skin slapping skin nearly overpowering your choked moans and yet it doesn’t quite manage to - you’re sure your downstairs neighbors must think you’re being murdered with the volume of your sobs, or perhaps they’re used to hearing you get fucked within an inch of your life just about every night. Harry going away for filming surely must have been their own vacation from being awoken every night to yours and his pathetic moans mingled together -

But their vacation is over, goddammit.

“Harry, I’m gonna - I’m gonna cum,” you gasp, voice staccato and quiet, and his lips close around the back of your neck until you can feel him suckling at the skin, desperate to watch your skin erupt in hickeys from his work. “Please don’t - don’t stop -”

“Never gonna stop, baby,” is your boyfriend’s response, nearly cruel with how nonchalant he sounds, and his pace picks up where he’s sliding in and out of you with squelching wet sounds. “Cum for me - cum f’me and m’gonna blow it, baby, blow m’fuckin’ load into your cunt -”

You whimper, making a halfhearted attempt to reach behind you and wind your arm around Harry’s neck but you can’t muster up enough strength, feeling the orgasm building in your abdomen build and build like a rubber band about to snap. It’s a feeling that’s all too familiar when you’re with him, like you’re always one stolen smirk away from straddling him in front of everyone and having your way with him -

“M’gonna cum in you, baby,” Harry whispers, voice low and hot against your ear, words being shot directly into your eardrum and sending a chill up your spine that has nothing to do with the chilled temperature of the kitchen. “Gonna knock you up, right? S’what you want?”

“Yes - yes -”

“Y’want me to fill you with my cum, hmm? Get you fuckin’ pregnant? All round w’my fuckin’ kid, fill you ‘till you’re dripping -”

“Oh, God, Harry!”

“Cum on m’fucking cock. Wanna feel y’cum around me ‘fore I blow it, sweetie -” It’s all the encouragement you need, a moan mixed with a sob tearing out of your throat as you throw your head back, body nearly convulsing as your orgasm racks through you like a tsunami on shore - and it’s everything, like he’s set you aflame and left you to deal with the inferno, and not for the first time you think about how you’re fucking made for him, for this, cumming harder than you’ve ever cum in your life, the rubbr band snapping and sending waves of pleasure through you -

“Fuck!”

Your orgasm hasn’t even come close to ending when Harry’s hips slam firm against yours, pressed taut against your ass and you feel him, feel every curve and vein of his cock against your walls and your mind goes blank as he cums, warm spurts filling you every which way and it only makes it better when he moves one of his arms from beneath your neck, snaking his hand underneath your body so he can shakily rub three fingers against your clit, milking your orgasm for all that it’s worth. You clamp down on him, every sensation too much and yet not enough in the best way possible, and you swear you see nothing but stars.

There’s a beat of silence, filled only with your heaving breaths and his soft gasps for air mixing with each other in the thick, suddenly humid air of the kitchen. Harry’s chest is sweaty against your back even through his shirt, lips still pressing warm, wet kisses to the back of your neck just underneath your hairline.

“Fuck,” you breathe, soreness already settling in your throat as you swallow, somewhat regretting your vehement moans and cries and shouts but somehow not at all - “Should probably go shower.”

“Not yet.” “Not yet -?”

“Stay here for a few minutes,” your boyfriend murmurs against your damp, sweaty skin, tongue poking out to lick a thin stripe from your collarbone up to the side of your throat, lips pressing just underneath your ear. “Gotta make sure it works. Gotta make sure you’re not leaving this fuckin’ kitchen without m’fuckin’ kid inside you, baby.”

~~

TAGLIST 

@hoeeforstyles @pcterparxer @hhh33-3l @saintsmotels @ficrecrry @bunny-munchkin-luvs-music @masumiyetimziyanoldu @luxplsr @strawberryystyles @shawnxstyles @harryslilkat @harryhub @golden-hoax @repostcentral @harry-styles-l​ @mintchipstyles​ @fallinforstyles  @zhangyixingxing1​ @goldenxstyles7​ @tobefalling​ @hslotcherry​ @alwaysclassyeagle​ @galacticferns @nineteenfiftyone​ @havethetimeeofyourlifee​ @sstarkme​ @stylesfics-xx​ @thecitiesintheseas @harrypinks​ @morethanamelodyy @lovesickrry​ @prettymuchxarreaga 

[pottahishotasf]

── 𝓒𝓪𝓷 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓢𝓽𝓪𝔂? ──

Bruce Banner x Fem!reader Summary ▻ Bruce longed for you - knowing that he's just supposed to be your fuck buddy. Warning/s ▻ Literally smut in the beginning. A tiny bit of angst. And yes, it is unprotected sex. FEELINGS. Word Count ▻ 800+

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ | ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ

Giving you last few languid strokes through your high - he groaned as he felt his spend along with your arousal drip on his thighs.

"You did good - No. I meant great." you praised, panting as you tried to stand up - his softening dick sliding out of you -

Your legs were trembling as if you had just came back from a leg day "I'm sorry about that." he apologized - he sounded genuinely worried.

"No it's fine. Don't worry about it."

He stood up to guide you to the bathroom but not before offering to carry you himself to which you replied with a shake of your head - he felt bad seeing you in your state - thinking he went too rough this time - but you never forget to always assure him that you like it that way.

"I can wash you?" He offered - asked - placing you on the toilet - which was too high for your reach, he then stood between your spread legs and placed his hands on each your thighs as you leaned forward to rest your head against his chest - you sighed, feeling relieved as you started peeing.

He felt your thighs tremble under his touch and began giving each massages - making sure to be careful not rising his hands up to hit your private part, aware that your still completely naked in front of him.

You pulled your head back to see him as you finished - he knew that you have to pee after doing it and you both got used to it - you never felt ashamed peeing in front of him... He was the one to actually suggest it in the first place as a result of it now being a routine.

He flinched as you reached a hand to grab his cheek, you were about to pull your hand back when he snatched it and nuzzled his face on your palm.

"Are you okay?" You questioned.

"Mhm. I'm sorry."

"No. Don't be." you murmured, giving him a quick peck on his lips and rest your forehead against his. "Yes. you can wash me - that would be more than great," you continued as he went back and grab a chair nearby - somewhere around the room to place it inside the shower - which was big and nice - kudos to Tony for building such a place.

"My muscles are aching." you pointed out as he carried you and placed you comfortably on the chair.

"Do you want a full bath - or just your privates?" he questioned as he awkwardly shifted on his feet.

"Oh. Just my privates please - wait - why do you call it privates - I mean you can call it pussy or maybe vagina? I mean that would work too but why?" you taunted, chuckling - just thinking about it.

"I don't really know." he shrugged, "I'm gonna tell you about it later on." he promised.

After he cleaned you up, he rummaged through his messy wardrobe to find you some comfortable clothes - he made sure they were comfortable before handing it to you.

You dressed up as he turned around - once again looking away from you, wanting to respect your privacy "Bruce. We've already talked about this."

"I - sorry - I just wanted to umm... Nevermind." he stuttered finally turning around to look at you - he will never say it out loud but he likes - loves the sight of you wearing his clothes.

He knew he will never have any kind of relationship with you, other than being your fuck buddy or a friend in other people's eyes - that's the only thing that makes him close to you - the only thing he can do to be with you - he was scared to lose you and so he stayed.

You only came to him when you needed pleasure - to relieve your stress or generally just take your mind off work and anything else -

He'll feel the guilt coming down on him after fucking his fist slick with his own saliva almost every night - thinking about you and only you - as he pictured making love with you.

And he wished that maybe someday that would change.

Someday.

You sat on his bed "Give me 10 minutes and I'll leave."

"Yeah - I - yeah. Sure."

Your eyes finds his brown ones as you reached a hand to hold onto his - absentmindedly swiping your thumb over his knuckles.

He took a big sigh "Can you stay?" he asked as his eyes for the hundredth time broke contact with yours.

You hummed in response - laying down on his bed - the sheets freshly made - the old ones already been thrown in the washer.

Tapping the sheets, you silently signaled him to lay beside you and he did - but there was still distance between the two of you which irks you.

"You can - you know like scootch a little."

"Oh, yes."

He scootched closer towards you and nuzzled his face onto your neck - putting his arms over your waist as you carresed his back.

You stayed like that for a moment - it felt like forever but suddenly you have to leave - sneak out of his room, without knowing he was still widely awake as he spent most of the time listening to the thump of your heart and maybe he does want it to last forever.

He felt safe that way.

He felt safe with you.

a/n: Let's take a break from the goddamn series. I am so in love with this man :')

ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ, ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ, ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴇᴇᴅʙᴀᴄᴋꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ!!

@maelycious @slvtfor-gingerpubes

[camsthisky]

"you’re not alone . you’re stuck with me forever . sorry . ” + Jason and Dick (and anyone other family member)?

“Everyone okay?” Dick croaks as the dust and rubble settles around them. He’s lying on his back, kept still by something pinning his legs down. He doesn’t dare assess himself quite yet. “Hood? Batgirl?”

“Okay,” Cass says, and Dick watches as she stumbles over to him, looking dusty, but relatively alright. She kneels next to him with a frown. She meets his eyes—well, relatively since they’re both wearing masks—and asks, “Okay?”

Dick grimaces. “Not really.” Louder, he calls, “Red Hood?!”

“Here, here,” Jason says, coughing into his fist. He’s missing his helmet and there’s a gash sluggishly bleeding from his right cheek, smearing a trail of blood down his face. He’s also limping, but only slightly.

“Can you move?” Cass asks Dick as Jason pulls out his flashlight.

Dick winces at the sudden light, his mask having already automatically switched to night vision. He huffs. “Jay. Off.”

“Names.”

Dick scowls. “The light.”

“Deal with it,” Jason snaps. “My night vision isn’t working.”

Dick turns off his own night vision feature, if only to not be blinded by the damn flashlight if it passes over his eyes again.

That’s when Jason’s flashlight lands on where Dick is pinned.

“Crap,” Jason breathes.

“Can you move them?” Cass asks, sounding a touch more impatient, and Dick realizes that Cass has already asked once. “Your legs.”

“No,” says Dick, just barely trying. He’s tired, but he knows that time is up. He can’t get away with ignoring his own situation any longer. Probably shouldn’t have even waited this long. His legs are tingling from lack of blood flow, mixing with a sharp pain shooting through them both. Still he’s lucky, because—“I can still feel them, though.”

“We’ll lift,” Jason says to Cass, who nods. Dick closes his eyes and braces himself for the inevitable pain of rubble being lifted off his crushed legs.

“Hhh.”

The sounds he makes is nothing more than an agonized hissed through his teeth, and Dick can’t help the cold sweat that sweeps across his body in a slow wave as his siblings manage to move the slab of—wall, maybe? who knows, really—from where it’s crushing his poor legs.

Something taps against his shinbone and then his kneecap.

“Stop, stop, I feel it,” Dick gasps, bringing his legs up in a protective curl as pain throbs through most of his lower body. His left hip hurts like hell, and his every muscle, bone, and tendon feels like they’ve been squeezed and then flattened like a pancake. He rolls over onto his side so he can bring his knees up to his chest, to wait out the lingering intensity of the pain.

“Breathe,” Cass says.

Dick breathes.

He closes his eyes and blocks out everything and, again, just breathes. His siblings let him.

When he has a better grasp on his agony, Dick finally relaxes. The world filters back in. Cass is running fingers through Dick’s dusty hair (something she one hundred percent learned from Bruce, because only a select few know how much the motion tends to calm him down).

On the other hand, Dick blinks his eyes open to find Jason agitatedly pacing.

“The hell?” Jason murmurs, his flashlight whipping back and forth with his movements as he surveys their surroundings. “Did we get completely sealed in?”

Dick wishes desperately he would stop. Even without night vision, Jason’s impromptu strobe light effect is causing Dick’s head to ache. Instead of saying this, he hums contemplatively. “Wonder if there’s a signal this far down.”

Jason huffs, not slowing in the least. He’s searching for something, and dear god does Dick want him to find it already. “You’re the one with the comms in your ear. You try it.”

They’re in the sewers, is the thing. And while Bruce and Babs have designed the comms system to work incredibly well, even in the sewers, the signal still needs to be able to make it to the system in order to be functional.

With the three of them sealed in this place, seemingly with no way out, pretty deep in the sewer system where they had been disabling bombs throughout the city, Dick isn’t optimistic about their chances of getting a signal.

(They’d just been a few seconds too late for that last bomb, which unfortunately led them to their current circumstances.)

While Jason grumbles, Cass activates her emergency signal and the comms. She calls out, “Batman? Oracle?”

Jason shuts up for the five seconds before Cass looks between both Dick and Jason and shakes her head.

Dick lets out a slow exhale through his nose. He hadn’t really held out much hope for that anyways.

Jason groans. “Holy batcannoli, I can’t believe we’re stuck down here. And where’s my hecking helmet?!”

Cass helpfully points to the rubble sealing them in. Jason kicks a rock with a yell. Dick sighs.

“Well, at least you’re not alone down here,” Dick says as optimistically as he can—although, given the circumstances, it does fall a little flat.

Jason snorts. “Right. Sure, Batgirl is an asset, but you’re a sack of bruised bones right now. That’s not helpful in the slightest, Dickface.”

Dick’s eyelashes flutter of their own accord. He hums. “Too bad. Looks like you’re stuck with me. Sorry.”

“Dick,” Cass says, her fingers tracing lightly over his face. “Stay awake.”

“I am awake.”

“You’re starting to—” Cass pauses. Dick can’t see the look on her face, because somehow, his eyes have fully closed without his permission, and he can’t seem to find the strength to open them again. “—to slur.”

The sounds of Jason’s pacing stop. Silence rings loud in their sealed section of the sewers. Then, “Did he hit his head?”

“Not sure,” Cass answers.

“Dick,” Jason says, sounding quite a bit closer, like he’s maybe crouching down next to Cass or something—but Dick hadn’t heard him move, and Jason’s boots are too clunky to not make sound against the concrete. “Dick, did you hit your head?”

Dick’s eyebrows furrow, but he doesn’t open his eyes. He doesn’t remember hitting his head. The only thing he clearly remembers about the blast is heavy pieces of rubble crushing his legs. “Maybe?”

“Great,” Jason says. He’s pulling out his I’m-rolling-my-eyes-at-your-ridiculous-incompetency voice. “So my bruised bones of a big brother probably also has a concussion. Just great.”

“It’s not his fault he’s injured,” Cass tells Jason. “He was disarming the bomb.”

Which means Dick took the brunt of the blast when it was remotely activated.

Dick really means to tack onto Cass’s statement, maybe tease Jason a little and try to reassure both his younger siblings that not everything is hopeless, because he’s the best big brother ever, of course.

Only, he can’t find the strength to open his mouth and talk. Instead, the voices around him become watery, distorted, and Dick’s head flares in pain.

When unconsciousness comes to take him, he doesn’t resist.

—

“—manage to even find us in the first place?” is the first thing Dick hears as he swims back to consciousness. Jason almost sounds relieved.

“The seismic device didn’t just affect the sewers,” someone replies. It takes a lot of effort for Dick to recognize it as Tim. “A couple buildings partially collapsed, and since we knew the three of you were down here, it was a good starting point to look when none of you would answer the comms.”

“Huh,” is all Jason says.

“Nightwing,” Bruce says, startling Dick from the dazed lull he’d been in as he listened to his brothers talking. He opens his eyes, blinking up bewilderingly at what he can see of Bruce’s face behind the cowl.

“B?” Dick murmurs. He doesn’t move, yet, from where’s curled on his side, but he feels an abortive twitch of his fingers at the reassuring sight of Batman. “‘S goin’ on?”

“What do you remember?”

Right. Bruce did not give easy answers. Life is a series of puzzles, Dick Grayson, fueled by none other than Bruce Wayne himself.

Dick frowns and casts his mind back. “The wall blew up,” he decides. “I got hurt?”

He’s only half sure about that last one, but considering his position on the ground, the throbbing in his head and hip, and Bruce’s concerned dad frown that’s taking over his Batman grimace, Dick thinks that he’s probably on the right track.

“Concussion,” Cass says, startling Dick when she pops her head over Bruce’s shoulder. “Also, ‘a sack of bruised bones.’”

That—sounds familiar. He thinks he remembers Jason saying something like that.

Bruce’s frown gets deeper. “Straighten your legs.”

“Please,” Dick tacks on for Bruce when he lacks the manners to be nice, basically on instinct at this point, even as he—slowly, and with a great deal of agony—does what Bruce tells him to do.

They go through a couple more tests, until finally Bruce, unhappy, deems, “We need to move you.”

Dick blinks when Bruce turns away to murmur something to one of the others. A conversation washes over him, and Dick can’t help but let himself tune it out. The noise settles as vague humming—indistinct and comforting.

“—two, three,” Bruce says as Dick’s entire vision goes white.

He only manages to come back to himself in increments.

There are arms holding him tight. Familiar murmurs in his ear. The comforting sound of Batman’s heavy cape brushing against concrete.

“—there, Chum,” Bruce is saying, and if Dick had the capability, he would have teased Bruce for pulling out both the concerned dad frown and the concerned dad voice in one night.

As it is, the only thing that comes out of his mouth when he opens it are harsh pants for air. Every step jostles him, and agony is his constant companion throughout the entire journey to the surface.

Somehow, Dick is still conscious when he’s laid down in the backseat of the batmobile. He’s grateful he’s not moving anymore, and carefully doesn’t think of the upcoming ride back to the Cave.

He only really starts to relax when Bruce settles the cape over him. Wrapped up inside it, Dick almost feels like he’s ten years old again. Batman’s has always felt like warmth and protection and home. This time is no different.

“Batgirl and Robin, keep Nightwing as still as possible. Red Hood, in the front. Start updating Oracle.”

“Why do they—”

“You’re too bulky, Hood. Me and Batgirl are smaller than you. It’s still going to be a tight fit, but it’s the most comfortable for everyone this way.”

“Whatever.”

“Enough. Car. Now.”

There’s lots of careful but hurried scrambling. Dick thinks he passes out a few times on the way back. He doesn’t remember much, either. Just bits and snatches here and there—His siblings talking to him, Bruce giving orders, Jason being snappy and unwittingly dragging Tim into an argument.

And then—he wakes up. A lot more clear-headed than he’d felt the last time he’d been conscious (though, that wasn’t saying much).

To Dick’s surprise, he’s on his side again, dressed in sweats with a pillow between his legs. He opens his eyes to the Wayne Manor living room, and—yes, he’s on the couch. The curtains are drawn, but it’s clearly sometime past sunrise.

Bruce is sitting cross-legged in front of him, reading a book.

“Bruce?” Dick calls, his voice still somewhat slurred. “Why’m I on the couch?”

“You started crying when I said you had to stay in the infirmary,” Bruce tells him, grabbing a bookmark and setting his book off to the side.

Dick frowns. He doesn’t remember that. Still, he manages to say, “You’re such a pushover.”

“How do you feel?”

Dick blinks a dozen times in a row, trying to assess his body and keep up with the change in subject. “Kinda woozy. My hip hurts a lot.”

“Hn.”

“Think I need to brush up on my Bat speak,” Dick murmurs. “Dunno what that one meant.”

Bruce hums again. “You’re incredibly lucky. We’ll need to be careful for the next few weeks.”

“What’s the diagnosis, doc?”

“Crush injuries to your legs and left hip. Not overly severe, and we managed to stabilize you once we realized you were in shock.”

Dick thinks about that for a second. “Concussion? I’m pretty sure I remember something about a concussion.”

“It’s mild,” Bruce tells him. “It was the shock that was the real problem.”

“Oh.” Dick sighs into the pillow under his head. “I’m tired.”

Bruce gives him a soft smile, just slight enough that if Dick hadn’t been so familiar with Bruce’s microexpressions, he would have thought he’d been mistaken. Fingers lightly card through his hair, and Dick’s eyes start closing of their own accord.

“Then sleep,” Bruce says.

Dick sleeps.

[dairy-farmer]

TW: Emotional manipulation, threats of su!c!d3

Damian dies. Tim comforts Dick. Maybe he should go watch over Bruce but he knows that Dick and Damian's bond was different and far more special than what Bruce had. Plus, Tim can see how hard and how fast Dick started spiraling. So to save his brother, he put him on top of his priorities. He's always cuddling Dick and talking to him. He indulges Dick on whatever he wants to do and however he wants to Tim. This is what he learned all those years ago when Jason died and he joined the family from dealing with Bruce.

Unbeknownst to him, he may have spoiled Dick a bit too much. He was starting to obsess over Tim. Of course Perfect Little Timmy wouldn't die; wouldn't leave Dick. He's the only one of his brothers left that hadn't died. Maybe the nickname his mother gave him was a curse. Maybe Robins after him were always doomed to die tragically. Maybe he saved Tim from that fate all those years ago when he took Robin from him. But he still has Robin attached to his vigilante name. Maybe it's time for Tim to stop

He starts pushing Tim's boundaries, always using his grief as an excuse. He tries to lessen Tim's time patrolling by always calling while having a breakdown when Tim is barely halfway through his patrol. Then he starts planting seeds of thoughts on Bruce head about how he's put all of his children in danger and now, two of his children died before becoming adults. Is that what he wants for Tim? He's doing this so that when he gets Tim to cut down even more on his patrolling.

Getting Tim to do that was the hardest. They fought so bad, Tim left Dick again. But it was nothing Dick can't fix with a few slits on his wrists. It worked like magic

ANON THIS IS SO GOOOOD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! dick, in his grief, unhealthily latching onto tim because he's lost all of his baby brothers and if tim continues down this path HE will die too and that...there's no way that dick will be able to survive that.

tw/cw: graphic suicide attempt

tim is so soft and so warm and he speaks to dick so gently because dick is a small and suffering little thing and tim must take care of him, must hold him. when dick would wake up from nightmares, sobbing, after damian's funeral- tim would be there. tim had even taken to sleeping in dick's rooms with him to try and help the rest of the manor get some sleep because dick's hysterical screaming from nightmares would end up waking all of them.

dick gets used to the sight and feel of tim. the way he smells of rosemary shampoo and cotton linen bodywash. the way his little body will spread with every inch to cover and hold dick as best he can. dick hadn't been able to eat for days after damian's death so tim had sat beside him and gently fed him sips of bone broth and crackers. once dick built up an appetite again tim had taken it upon himself to try and make all of dick's favorite meals, allowing alfred to have a break and quietly mourn. tim was a crutch those first few months after damian's death. he'd stand by dick's side and never flinch even while dick yelled and threw things around the room and when dick broke down crying once again tim would clear the mess around him and bandage him up.

so much tenderness. so much selflessness. how had dick never noticed how heart achingly kind his little brother was?

tim treated dick with more tenderness, love, and care than anyone else had in his entire life. he handled dick, who was in so much pain, with kids gloves. he wasn't like barbara, like bruce, like jason who kept urging him to go back to work, to go back to being nightwing, saying that they "knew he was hurting but-".

no. not tim. not tim who held dick while he cried and kissed his forehead and stroked dick's back until he eventually nodded off to sleep.

dick grew dependent on tim. he needed tim. he needed him to function. he needed tim to not die and leave him. not like how jason or damian had. so tim had needed to quit. he needed to stop going out and putting himself in danger. the streets of gotham would kill him just like it had the others.

but tim hadn't taken that well.

dick had tried going slow, had tried using subliminal messaging to get bruce to agree that tim should be permanently retired from caped work. but he should've remembered that tim wasn't that same bright eyed sucker that obeyed bruce without a second thought.

and he'd thought that tim's love would be deep enough that he'd give into dick's pleading.

but it hadn't. tim resisted. tim was going to start going out as red robin again. he said dick was getting better, that gotham needed him out there, that tim had already taken too long waiting to go back out there.

dick begs him not to and when that doesn't work he demands tim retire. and when that doesn't work he gets angry.

dick knew maybe he'd been pushing too hard too soon. tim needed...a gentle touch.otherwise he'd go storming out of the manor just at the suggestion he cut down on his patrolling, let alone fully retire.

even though tim would hardly be getting any patrolling done because when tim started slowly transitioning back to active duty, dick would strategically time his breakdowns to coincide with tim's departure from the cave. it had worked. until it didn't.

but dick couldn't just sit back and let his sweet baby brother die.

he couldn't lose the last of his sanity by losing tim on top of everyone else.

dick isn't as hysterical as the others may believe. he hasn't been sucked in by his grief and irreparably damaged like bruce and barbara whispered.

dick can still think clearly. in fact, he can think with startling clarity.

he waits until tim is exactly 13 minutes and 54 seconds away from the manor, having left angry and frustrated with dick about their most recent argument. tim wasn't planning on talking to dick for at least another few days but he'd "accidentally" left behind a flashdrive filled with important files on dick's bedside table that he'd thought he'd slid into the front ches pocket of his jacket. he'd be returning to retrieve it as soon as he patted it and noticed it was gone

dick knows he will because he's watching tim as he sits at a red light using a streetcam. dick watches as tim does the intital tap followed by a frantic double tap and a shake of his head that mean 'oh crap' as he realizes his drive is in the manor where a grief-stricken dick is probably sobbing his eyes out. dick waits until he sees tim do an almost seamless U-turn in the near-empty street and begins heading back to the manor where dick is alone.

tim is on his way back and dick counts down the seconds in his head as he slides into the bathtub.

the water is ice cold to help constrict the blood vessels and limit the blood loss. dick doesn't want to bleed out before tim and the ambulance that he'll surely call arrive. plus, the ice cold water will chill his skin enough to have tim panicking and frantic when he sees dick's half-open bathroom door and spots dick's head bobbing in the water.

dick doesn't want to die.

that's not what he's aiming for. but he cuts deep enough to make it look real, enough to stain the white tile of the tub and bathroom floor. he's using damian's knife, the one he'd kept for sentimental reasons, the one that was sharp enough to cut through anything like it was a hot knife through butter. it makes clean work of dick's flesh, carving through with no resistance from the crook of his elbow to his wrist. dick's flesh splits like its plastic wrap around a ball of pudding, the skin and muscle part open like it's nothing. a deep, black meaty cut with little bits of stringy flesh clinging begin to pour out precious warm lifeblood in a way that makes dick's stomach turn. dick makes a soft hissing sound as he carves flawless skin open. the first arm is already sending alarm signals to dick's brain, flashing with red lights about the pain and how switching hands to put the knife into the injured palm of the other hand is a big 'no no'. the second cut is shakier, uglier. dick ends up cutting off center and the end curves more toward his elbow than the hollow of his arm because the pain radiating from the other arm makes maintaing the grip on damian's knife difficult. but as soon as its done and over with, dick lets himself fall into the icy water he'd been standing in. immediatly the crystal clear water starts turning pink and then a deep carmine. dick looks like he's been attacked by a shark in his own bathtub. it might be the bloodloss but dick giggles a little at the thought. distantly, he hears the crackle of gravel being rolled over in the drive way and settles down more comfortably in the tub, trying to ignore the burning pain of his torn flesh.

dick has long since learned how to slow his own heartbeat. it's just a matter of quieting his breathing when he hears the sound of quick footsteps coming up the stairs and slowing to the door to his bedroom.

dick's eyes close just as he hears it 'click' open and tim's familiar footsteps tentatively creep in. dick can practically see it in his mind as his head tilts back and starts soaking his hair with his bloody water. he can see as tim peeks in, eyes exhausted and not wanting to fight and flashing with a bit of relief when he doesn't see dick on his bed crying so he steps in. one step and then two, closer and closer to dick's bed. tim needs to pass by the open door to dick's en suite bathroom where the light is on. another tentative step and another. dick can hear tim's loafers being muffled by the carpet as he finally reaches the bathroom with door open letting him get a clear view of the inside. dick hears tim reach the opening to the bathroom in another slow step and then just....stop.

tim lets out a scream that shakes the glass from the windowpanes in dick's room.

dick doesn't twitch or move an inch when tim's little hands dive into the water and desperately pull him out even if every gut deep part of him wants to grunt at hands wrapping around his injured wrists to pull him up and out of the tub and onto tim. dick flops on tim's chest, his head right over his heart where a frantic rabit heart is beating away. tim struggles and squirms, desperatly grunting and trying to lift dick's heavy body up and off him and onto the floor of the bathroom beside him. tim's hands press towels to dick's bleeding hands and its when tim flips open his phone that more of the blood loss lightheadedness starts creeping back up. even with his eyes closed dick is seeing stars and getting blurry vision, that along with the throbbing, pulsing pain radiating from both arms as tim tries to save his life by tightly wrapping towels around where he's bleeding. those expensive cotton towels are quickly getting soaked with blood and the pain of tim aggravating the wounds makes playing unconscious very difficult. but dick holds out.

tim will never leave him alone now. not when he thinks that every time he leaves dick this will happen again. not when there's a possibility maybe next time he'll be too late.

dick can already hear the fear in tim's voice as he begs the operator to get the paramedics here quicker. that fear will drive them together. that fear will let dick keep tim close and safe.

if the cost to accomplish that were a few ugly scars and a bit of blood then it was well worth it in dick's opinion.

[alienguts]

Five Things (Bruce Wayne x f!Reader)

Summary: Bruce brings Y/N down from a panic attack after Dick comes home with a broken collar bone.

Warnings: anxiety and panic attacks, broken bones

Request?: No

She knew he wasn’t ready to go out on his own, but nobody would listen to her. Dick was just a child, a baby, he shouldn’t have been out fighting with grown men in the middle of the night and he’d come home with a broken collarbone and a black eye that would be very difficult for him to hide at school.

“Y/N, just calm down, he’ll be fine,” Bruce said, keeping his tone careful to not upset her any more than she already was.

“Calm down? Bruce, he’s twelve,” Y/N said, her voice louder than she’d intended it to be. “He’s lucky that it’s just a broken collarbone, he could have been killed!”

“But he’s learnt how to avoid getting killed and he’s come along so well since he first started,” Bruce said, a calming hand on her shoulder.

Y/N still wasn’t convinced. She wasn’t happy that Dick had decided to join Bruce on his futile crusade in the first place, but the boy was so eager to help that she’d held her tongue.

“I’m really fine, Y/N,” Dick said while Alfred put his arm into a sling. “I can always help out from here when it’s too dangerous.”

She wanted to protest but she couldn’t deny how happy being able to help Bruce made him. He always came home in a good mood, even when he had a couple of scrapes. Or even a broken bone. She sighed and let Bruce draw her into his arms.

“I guess that’s true,” she said. “How badly can you get hurt just sitting at a computer?”

Even though the words left her mouth, Y/N still couldn’t shake her nerves and Bruce’s warm hug wasn’t helping for once. She felt suffocated by him. By the whole situation.

She pulled away from Bruce and turned to leave the three of them in the cave. Her mind swirled as she climbed the stairs and she could feel them watching her as she left. Once she knew she was out of sight, her steady climb turned into a more brisk walk as she distanced herself from the Cave.

Y/N could feel panic start to rise in her throat as the elevator took her back up to the Manor, the stone walls surrounding her felt like they were getting nearer and nearer to her with every breath she took. Once the doors finally opened to Bruce’s study, she burst out of the small metal cage and ran to the bedroom as fast as her feet would take her.

I can’t be near this. I can’t deal with this Bat shit.

The heavy door to the master bedroom slammed shut behind her and she slid down it, trying to keep her breathing even. Her sharp breaths soon turned to hyperventilating as she buried her head in her knees and wrapped her arms around herself. Her eyes stung with tears that refused to fall and her chest ached from juddering so much.

I can’t do this anymore. I can’t do this. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.

A soft knock on the door briefly brought her out of her panic.

“Y/N? Honey, are you okay?” Bruce’s voice asked through the door. The handle squeaked as it moved and he tried to push the door open, only for it to bump into Y/N’s back. “Can you let me in, sweetheart?”

Y/N willed her muscles to move and scooted out of the door’s way, just enough to let Bruce slip into the bedroom. She didn’t want him to see her having a panic attack, curled up on the floor and shaking. She felt weak and pathetic whenever she was anxious in front of him, no matter how many times he told her that she was strong enough to work through it.

Her face stayed buried in her knees as he sat down next to her and pulled her into his arms. He stroked her hair with one hand while he held her with the other and comforted her, waiting until she was ready to talk.

“Try to breathe for me darling,” he soothed, his voice soft in her ear. “I know it’s difficult, but you need to try.”

Y/N heaved a deep breath and shuddered it back out, a shaky sob escaping her throat. She lifted her head from her knees and rested it on his chest, her ear over her heart so she could listen to its steady beat. Even when her own heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest, she could rely on him to calm her down. She timed her breaths to be in sync with his, slowly breathing in and out until her body returned to normal.

“Feel any better?” Bruce asked her, his voice rumbling deep in his chest.

“A little,” Y/N croaked, her throat raw from hyperventilating. “I just can’t get those horrible images of Dick all beaten up out of my head.”

He could feel her breathing start to pick up again and loosened his hold on her to sit her facing him in his lap.

“Hey, remember that little exercise we learned?” She nodded briefly, trying to keep her mind calm. “Good. Tell me five things you can see.”

“I can see the door, your jacket hanging up, the clothes that I forgot to put in the hamper last night, my hands, and you.”

“Now four things you can feel,” he said as he took her hands in his. She watched as he ran his thumbs over her knuckles.

“I can feel your hands, my sweater, your legs, and your heartbeat.”

“Three things you can hear? I know we’re sitting in a quiet room, but you can probably hear something.”

“The birds outside, the lights humming, and you talking to me.”

“Two things you can smell?”

“Your cologne and the laundry detergent.”

Bruce took Y/N’s chin in his thumb and forefinger and gently angled her face up to meet his. Her eyes sparkled in the low light and were still red, but he couldn’t help but find her irresistible, even after she’d been crying so much. His eyes softly closed as he rested his forehead against hers and ran his knuckles along her jaw. He felt her breath against his skin as he captured her lips in a soft kiss. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and kissed him back, desperate to be closer to him.

“I guess I don’t need to ask you one thing you can taste,” he said against her mouth when he pulled away slightly. Y/N didn't respond and dove in for more kisses before resting her head on his shoulder.

“Feel better?” Bruce asked her softly as he stroked her hair.

“Yeah, but it doesn't change the fact that I don't like seeing Dick get hurt,” she replied. She played with the hairs brushing the nape of his neck, twirling his inky locks around her fingers.

“You’re right, it doesn't, but Dick’s a very talented boy, he can handle himself, this was just a one-off thing.”

“Promise me that you’ll make sure he’s okay,” Y/N said. “Promise me that he’ll never come home as bad as you have before.”

Bruce loosened his hold on her and looked her in the eye, his face earnest.

“I promise,” he said as he took hold of her hand and placed it over his heart. “I don't want to see you get upset or worry about him anymore.”

“Thank you,” she whispered as she leaned in to kiss him again.

A soft, clumsy knock sounded on the door behind them.

“Is it okay to come in now?” Dick asked from the other side. Y/N untangled herself from Bruce and stood to open the door to greet Dick. She immediately pulled him into a careful hug, making sure to avoid his collarbone.

“How are you feeling, bud?” she asked him as she ushered him into the room.

“A little sore, but I'll be okay,” Dick said with a determined smile. “Um, you guys weren't fighting in here, were you?”

“No, we weren't fighting!” Y/N said, trying to stop him from worrying. “We were just-”

“Y/N just needed some space to clear her head, is all,” Bruce said, ever the mediator. “She was just worried about you.”

“You don't need to worry about me, Y/N,” Dick said. “I’ll be better in no time!”

Y/N smiled warmly and ruffled the boy’s hair before turning to leave the room.

“C’mon, Alfred’s probably got something for us to eat downstairs,” she said as she took Dick’s hand and started to lead him to the kitchen. She briefly turned back and looked at Bruce, who was watching her serenely. “Aren’t you coming too?”

He smiled and took her free hand in his, raised it to his lips, and kissed her knuckles gently before Dick started to pull away from them, grossed out by their display of affection.

[002yb]

Current thoughts: Playing off the other dynamic of aggression, cuteness and possessive markings from my other thoughts. Dick and Jason who have found comfortability in each other for so long they just forget that it's considered intimacy - but this doesn't mean they're gratuitous in their pda - it just means they forget that others won't make that connection. 

This is how Dick somehow ends up a dog, deduced because how else would he get random bite marks on his arms and shoulder - it's just not quite a good friend. Why else would he have scratches bleeding down his arm - why else would he be so fond of them?

This is also how Jason comes back to brief scoldings because did he try and get into a bar again? There's bruises all over the place like he's been picked up and tossed around - it means he didn't fight back so he had to keep up the appearance of a civilian right?

What they see is their team leader somehow finding the time to visit a shelter, or according to him “visiting his favorite little stray”. What they see is Jason who oddly seems more settled even with bruises and maybe he just needed a way to waste his energy.

Behind them Dick snickers lightly teasing Jason through a charming smile full of teeth and snark as he regales his little stray being the most feisty one out there - but the cutest. SO small and easy to carry around and even though he puts up a fight Dick knows that he enjoys it. Gar asks Jason if he has a fever (his face is too red to be natural right?) and Dick offers to bring him back to his room out of concern. 

It's a blind eye to the tight grip around his waist and protective placement of his arm around Jason's lower back. (and maybe it's the way it stays a secret just between them - an affair, a secret, them.)

Also ahhhh!!! Your recent fic absolutely blew me away. It made me a puddle - so indulgent - i'm absolutely living for it.

An add-on to the above because ahhhhhahahaha. What if Dick really did adopt a dog though? So even he's a bit lost in the fray of assumptions. Like. Haly 'Bitewing' Grayson-Todd is a new addition to the family. And like - she's a traumatized pupper just trying to adjust to finally having a safe environment to live in so there are some struggles. It's whatever; progress is slow, but good. And even after things are good - Haly is a pup. She likes to play.

So whenever his friends comment on bites or scratches or welts and dogs, Dick rolls with it because sure. He doesn't make the association that whatever mark they're talking about is very much not from an actual dog though - just Jason LOL.

He'd eventually realize though, but by that time the hole that's been dug feels deep hahaha. I think maybe it'd come to his attention when someone recommends obedience school (or some sort of training because Dick is obviously way too lax) and Dick is just so freaking confused because what.

And then Dick would snicker over it as he regales the tale to Jason and how maybe a little discipline would be good. ;)

As for Jason, all I can imagine is the entirety of the batfam being all sorts of hypersensitive and vigilant at the sight and sites of Jason's bruises - the telling shape of them, the severity and its effects. And ahhhhhhhhh of course they want to confront him, but then they'd notice that Jason is calmer/happier/content and the pieces fall together that it's intentional. And all the batfam has to sit with this knowledge. Bruce in particular stews over it because who the fuck. It's not a crime for Jason to do what he does, but Bruce will throw hands; fisticuffs are not off the table when it comes to his baby boy.

Also Jason being a maiden because this is my blog hahahaha. So he's mindful to hide the worst of everything. Only he somehow unintentionally always flaunts those marks in the most provocative of ways. Just peeks of dark bruises (blue, black); wine-colored hickeys. //3/// All the while Dick sees them and has to hide his little contented smirks/smiles to himself as he casually looks away.

Thank you so much for reading 🍊, btw! I'm glad that you enjoyed it. (:

[morganas-pendragons]

Don’t Fear the Reaper (III) | Jason Todd

I am having the time of my life writing this fic. Jason’s got a special place in my heart and while I know he’s mouthy and crass and was conditioned never to show his emotions (from what I’ve seen and gathered from the comics and shows) I decided that he needed some desperate comfort. So here it is! 

Tag: @darth-vaders-bitch​ 

If you’d like to be tagged in my next and following fics (the next one will be Dick) please let me know!

this is my ‘’my brain is fried and I have a ridiculously busy week but I did three hours of homework and needed to do something I enjoy’’ fic 

*** 

He’s longing. 

Jason Todd, the infamous Arkham Knight, the one who’s hated Batman for years and watched the manor that he’d grown up in before going to Ethiopia go up in flames, he’s longing and he’s longing for home. 

For the father he’d so desperately wanted in Bruce Wayne and the brothers in Dick and Tim and the love and security from you. 

Jason Todd is longing.. and well, that always makes the dreams more dangerous. 

His dreams are painted amber and tainted by death. Flames flicker across the sky as Wayne Manor is lit up in shades of amber and scarlet and it just keeps moving. Like the fire is trying to fully encompass Gotham to sanctify it. Gotham has needed purified for years. It feels just. Feels right.  

Jason is left standing in the only place that has not been touched, a graveyard by Divinity Church. There's fragments of the Arkham Knight armor scattered in the dirt and a shattered helmet sitting vigil on top of a grave he can’t quite read in this darkness. 

Then the graveyard is lit by the fire around it - and not in it - which leaves the electronics left flickering from the helmet to illuminate the name Jason Peter Todd just enough that it makes his stomach twist at the sight. 

  “Where were you when I needed you, Jaylad?” His eyes snap over to the figure lingering by the gravestone. It’s Bruce, just as he had last seen him before the Manor had gone up in flames. There’s something here Jason doesn’t recognize though as something wet drips down his face and Bruce’s pleas of you were supposed to save me from myself Jason are drowned out by the screaming. 

Where is that screaming coming from?! 

  “Little Wing!? Little Wing, where are you?!” Dick is the next one to sprint into the graveyard and Jason simply watches, too paralyzed by the rapid pounding of his heart. He constantly forgets that someone other then you loves him. That Dick loves him, that Dick mourned him. “You’re not... You’re not supposed to go! I’m not ready! Come back, Jason!” 

Dick is smacking at something Jason can’t see. Pleading. Begging for him to come back. It’s not until he hears whispers that sounds like The Scarecrow that he realizes Dick is being affected by fear toxin. 

Come back, Jason. 

You had told him he could come back. Maybe this is his chance to do so. 

Jason swallows the knot in his throat as Dick sprints back into the shadows and out onto the street crying out for Jason as he once did when they found out he had died in Ethiopia. You’re the freaking Arkham Knight for God’s sake. You’re better then this weak, pathetic thing your heart made you. 

And the last thing he sees is The Replacement. The Replacement, little Tim Drake who you just adored, aimlessly wandering the graveyard like a ghost trying to find his way home. He’s always loathed Tim despite knowing how much Tim revered him. 

Poor little Jason Todd who never thought anyone would look up to him was adored by another little, lonely boy who just wanted to be his hero. To be Robin. 

  “Y/N?” 

  “Over here, Tim.” 

Dread curls in Jason’s stomach as Tim tugs on the wrist of someone he can’t see, and oh does he hate how Tim is looking at you as you turn away from another grave and bury yourself in his embrace. You cling to Tim like you never want to let him go and Jason hates how jealous he is at the sight because he wants you to hold him like that. 

  “He was.. we were supposed to...” You crumble to your knees in Tim’s embrace as a wail so hoarse and powerful breaks past your lips and echoes aimlessly across the graveyard. “He was my everything, Tim! How do you go on without that?” 

The grave you’re kneeling in front of reads The Arkham Knight. Because why would they make Jason Peter Todd a second grave? He was already dead. 

  “You don’t.” 

The last thing he sees before he wakes is you suffocating at the hands of all his worst fears over the dirt of The Arkham Knight’s grave. You died with him. It’s oddly fitting. 

There’s not even a split second of hesitation when Jason jumps to his feet, throws on his most comfortable clothes despite the haze of rain outside, and grabs the keys to his motorcycle before slamming the door behind him. 

***

  “Dick, for the last time, I-” You shriek as your brother pins your wrists with one hand and mercilessly continues to tickle you. It was nearing 3 AM and the two of you had been having a hard time since Bruce’s death six months ago trying to learn how to live again without your father. Neither of you really believed he was dead, but the world did. So you had to come to terms with it. It got progressively harder when Dick was kicked off of the police force and the Manor had been rebuilt. And then Tim and Babs had asked the two of you to move in. You both did immediately. “Big Wing!” 

His smile is so worth it. It’s been such a long time since you’ve gotten to see Dick smile like that. There’s been so many months of pain and long nights of quietly shed tears in the darkness of your bedroom and his. All those nights the two of you had been woken up by Barbara because Tim had such a bad nightmare that he could not be shaken from it until you both wound yourselves around him so tightly that the warmth seeped back into his bones and the paralyzing chill of fear left. 

  “The endless tickle torture is worth it just to remember you blush.” You scowl as Dick flicks your nose. “And hear the sound of your laugh. I don’t think I’ve heard you laugh that hard since the last prank we pulled on Tim.” 

Before you can reply, there’s an alert from the Bat Computer to your left that indicates someone is knocking at the front of the Manor. Tim and Barbara are asleep which left Dick and you in charge, and you’re left staring at a trembling form dressed in a soaking wet black hoodie that’s leaning against the doorway. Their face is hidden. 

  “Dick...” You warn. 

  “Big Wing, Darling.” Your blood runs cold in your veins at the broken, desperate sound of Jason Todd’s voice. You hadn’t seen him in months. Heard his voice in months. It’s unlike him to show up out of the blue. With how much he’s avoided coming in the direction of the Manor, neither of you have made an effort to reach out to him. But you know he’s there. You’ve always known he was watching out for Gotham too. “Please, please let me in. I can explain everything. I won’t disappoint you. I won’t kill. I won’t hurt anyone. I just.. I need to see you both. Replacement too. Please.” 

You slowly turn towards your brother who looks rather apprehensive. Jason has a new reputation since taking on Red Hood. It’s not one Dick cares for.  “I haven’t heard him sound that young since the first time I came to him when he had a nightmare.” He says quietly. “Go. I’ll meet you up there with his favorite tea.” 

You’re sprinting up the stairs out of the Bat Cave and into the main foyer of the Manor before your legs can stop you. You hadn’t realized how much you’d been longing for Jason’s presence until now and how much you wanted him until you throw the door open and are greeted with his face.

His sad, weary, beautiful face. 

  “Jason?” 

A quiet, “You’re alive.” is all you get to hear before you’re slowly walking forward to slip the hood from his head and take his face into your hands. A quiet shudder runs through his body as you pull him inside and immediately start removing wet clothing. “I thought...” 

  “Sh.” You murmur, setting the wet clothes aside until he’s left in just his lounging pants. His shirt and sweatshirt are discarded by the door to be dealt with later as you take both hands into his own and squeeze them tightly. “We don’t have to talk about it right now.’’ 

Jason hates being weak. Hates letting someone else take care of him, but he relents with a quiet whimper as you lead him up the stairs and into a room. A room that’s very similar to the old one you’d had in the previous house. When you’d kept your innocence, before being a soldier had ruined you both. 

What a time. 

A quiet, familiar tune is being whistled through the hall as Jason takes the clothes you lay gently in his lap before turning away to allow him to change. He recognizes the song almost instantly. It’s a Romani song Dick had learned and sung to you when you were small. Both of you. 

It’s nice to remember something sweet. Something good. 

  “Hiya, Little Wing.” He muses softly with that infamous Dick Grayson smile that always made Jason roll his eyes as you press your hand to his chest and ease him onto the bed. “Are you happy to see me?” 

  “I’d be happier if you’d shut up-” 

You frown and lightly poke his cheek. “Be nice.” You warn. “Or I am taking my cuddles elsewhere.” 

Jason rolls over as your arm envelops his waist and pull him into your body. Your soft, warm body that curls so tightly around him that he’s forgotten how to breathe but then Dick is forgetting about the tea he went out of his way to make and then Jason has two Graysons wrapped around him and it’s like the balm to his aching heart. 

  “Y/N? Dick? Who was at the door?” Bleary eyed, messy haired Tim Drake wanders into the room next in his favorite sweatshirt and Robin pajama pants - a Christmas gift from his siblings the year before because why not they’re festive - and your expression softens as one arm lifts and motions to Jason in the bed. “Is that... J?” 

Jason resists the years long habit of rolling his eyes at his replacement and instead lifts his head just high enough to acknowledge Tim. He’s warm and safe and loved by the people in this room. He can feel it. This is the most Jason has ever been loved and he’s never been more grateful for it then right now. “C’mon Tim.” He mutters. “Join the cuddling festivities and if you tell anyone-” 

Tim has been perpetually touch starved his entire life and will never deny a cuddle pile. He nudges himself between Jason and Dick with a content sigh and buries his face in Dick’s shoulder. “S’cret safe with me, J.” 

That ever constant maniacal laughter burned into his head by The Joker and the sneering of the Arkham Knight is quieted down to the gentle heartbeats that thrum beneath Jason’s ear and the smell of tea and the feeling of home. 

Just before Jason can fall asleep, you tilt his chin upward so he’s looking into your eyes. “Jason Peter Todd,” You whisper as your fingers gently trace the brand on his cheek. He’d recoil were it anyone else. “You came home.” 

There’s a long moment of silence before Jason replies. It’s nice. One of those silences you just bask in because there is no one else around. There is no world. It’s just you. 

  “Y/N....” He swallows the knot in his throat and fists the fabric of Tim’s shirt as you pull the blankets up and around the four of you before leaning to press your forehead to Jason’s. “Is this real?” 

Am I finally getting what I never had? 

Soft laughter that makes breath warm his cheeks fills his ears as you nod. “As real as it gets, Jason.” And then oh he’s forgotten how this felt when you’re kissing him and you're kissing him until he can’t breathe and it’s a miracle Dick and Tim don’t wake up when he tries to press himself closer to your body like that’s humanly possible. When you do pull away, he’s breathing heavily and has his hand wrapped around your waist like he never wants to leave. “I love you.” 

With Dick curled around Tim, Tim lounged between him and Dick, Jason pressed against your side with his head on your chest, it’s the best comfort any of you have had in a long time. Comfort desperately needed after the loss of Bruce. 

It’s a whisper, like he’s afraid to scream it from the rooftops. Like it’s not the best thing he’s ever heard. The best thing he’s ever felt.. the ability to love and be loved. “Love you too.”  

Jason sleeps soundly. His dreams are kinder to him this time.