#(bruce is then a jerk about it but never mind that for the sake of the parallel) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

riley1cannon · 1 year

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In hopes that a bit of streamlining might help to jumpstart at least one fic (in progress for roughly two years, although never posted), I have made the decision to snip out a scene. It was to have been the start of a lengthy flashback sequence that would have really been a story unto itself. Not necessarily a bad thing, but after two years it’s pretty clear it doesn’t want to happen. Does this mean the now-streamlined version will roll out with no bumps in the road? Yeah, I wish. If there’s a chance this shakes it loose, though, it’s worth a shot.

Anyway, because I do kind of kind of like this scene, even though it won’t go where it was supposed to, I’m choosing to preserve it here...

Bruce halted his rush down the stairs of the hotel lobby, gripping the elegant railing as a burst of gunfire rang out from the ballroom. He glanced at Clark, beside him and aiming an intense look in that direction. “What? Is it her?”

Grim-faced, Clark nodded. “Looks like she tried to take out Miss Metropolis.”

Ready to jump over the railing, Bruce found himself held in place by Clark. “Damn it, Clark--” Squirm and strain as he might, he couldn’t get loose of that grip on his shoulder

“Hold your horses. She’s okay--Miss Metropolis is okay. Mrs. Quinn missed. Looks like she might’ve nicked the emcee, though. Mrs. Quinn’s headed this way,” Clark added, even as he released his hold on Bruce. “Go get her.”

Bruce had time to shoot one grumpy look Clark’s way before he charged on down the stairs, timing it just right so that he immediately plowed into a matronly woman, fashionably dressed for murder. She stumbled, caught herself, and began wailing on him with her Dolce and Gabbana purse.

“Get out of my way, you buffoon!”

“Ma’am--” smack smack smack “if you’d just calm down--” smack smack smack

“Calm down? Calm down?!” She smacked him again, got a closer look at him, and growled, “You! You two again!” She’d caught sight of Clark on his way down the stairs, and taking his sweet time about it. Wheels were turning in her mind, dots were connecting as she looked from one to other, suspicions coming together in her eyes. “This is all your fault!” she screamed, bag ready to smack Bruce again.

Clark shot out an arm to catch hold of the purse. “Ma’am, you really need to stop that.”

“Don’t you dare tell me what to do!” She tugged on the bag, trying to get it back. “Let go, you big oaf!”

He did, and the purse went flying through the lobby, smacking into a decorative column and scattering its contents all over the marble floor. She screeched, pushed her way past Clark and Bruce and rushed to her purse, scrambling to gather up all the spilled items.

Bruce kicked a stoppered, brown glass vial Clark’s way, pleased to see he picked it up with a handkerchief. Tugging out his own pocket square, he snagged a Glock G42--in Tiffany blue, for god’s sake--and was holding it out of her reach as Metropolis P.D. detectives Maggie Sawyer and Dan Turpin came barreling out from the ballroom, their own guns drawn and Turpin yelling, “Everybody freeze!”

“Oh, thank God.” Mrs. Norah Quinn moaned, feigning a swoon as she sank down on a plush sofa, the back of one hand pressed to her forehead, and venom in her eyes as she looked at Bruce and Clark. “Detectives, I want you to arrest these two men. They’ve been stalking and harassing me--”

Gun holstered, Maggie Sawyer let go a deep sigh, favoring Bruce and Clark with a look that could have halted a herd of rampaging elephants in its tracks. “We know exactly what Mr. Kent and Mr. Wayne have been up to, ma’am.” She jerked her head at Turpin. “You want to do the honors?”

“With pleasure.” Turpin stepped forward, cuffs ready, as his partner collected the gun and glass vial. “On your feet, Mrs. Quinn.”

“What?” Playing the flustered and confused card, she looked around the lobby, the crowd spilling out from the ballroom, the reporters and paparazzi, the uniformed officers crowding in. “I don’t understand. Arrest them!” She pointed a manicured finger at Clark and Bruce.

“Don’t you worry,” Turpin said as he helped to her feet. “We’ll be having a word with Starsky and Hutch here. Now, Ms. Quinn,” he snapped handcuffs on her as cameras flashed, “I’m placing you under arrest for the murders of Mercedes Beckett, Paul Lamont, Danielle Jackson…” He was still rattling off names and charges as he escorted her through the lobby and outside. She’d had a busy week.

Sawyer raised a finger before Bruce and Clark could make a move to follow. “You two, hold it right there.” She held up an evidence bag with the vial, half-filled with a viscous fluid that, if ingested, would immediately induce symptoms ranging from vomiting and bloody diarrhea, to respiratory failure. Left untreated, a person would be dead in roughly half an hour. Norah Quinn had added just a few drops to her victim’s tea during late night visits to harangue them for disqualifying her daughter from the Miss Metropolis pageant. “This is it, huh?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Clark pushed at his glasses. “She’s been collecting sap from yellow oleander flowers--”

“Toxicity level six,” Bruce chimed in. “I looked it up.”

She gave him a hard stare. “Do tell.”

The way she said it, he had a feeling she really didn’t want him to tell.

“How about I make a deduction?” she went on. “You two decided to make like the Hardy Boys and go snooping around Ms. Quinn’s house and garden and do our jobs for us, even after you were told to keep out of it. Even when you were made aware we were investigating. As for you,” she gave Bruce a look that warned she ate dilettante rich boys for breakfast, “Jim Gordon’s told me all about you--”

“Oh, I doubt that,” he drawled.

“--and if I ever find you over here again,” she plowed right over him, “making out like you’re some Lord Peter Wimsey wannabe, I will throw you in a hole so dark and deep that all the white-shoe law firms in the tri-state area won’t be able to get you out.”

Bruce could have pointed out that the only reason Metropolis P.D. had put Norah Quinn on their radar was because Clark’s suspicions had been raised while doing research into the pageant’s history, and he had accordingly called in Bruce to give him a hand. He could have pointed that out, but a quelling look from Clark kept him quiet.

Instead, with as much grace as possible, he nodded, and shrugged an apology.

If she wasn’t entirely satisfied with that, there was at least a shade less heat in her eyes as she swung back to Clark. “Have to say I’m a little disappointed in you, Mr. Kent. Never pictured you for these kinds of shenanigans.”

“No, ma’am,” Clark said, all aw shucks. “I’d blame it on a bad influence,” he looked at Bruce, the implication clear on the source of that bad influence, “but…” He trailed off with a sheepish shrug. Bruce wanted to slug him.

“I get you want to see justice served, and land yourself a big scoop in the process, but you playing amateur sleuth like this just makes my job harder. Bad enough we have to put up with all these costumed vigilante goons these days.”

Expression solemn as a Puritan’s gravestone, Clark nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I do understand.”

Bruce could only roll his eyes.

“I hope you do,” Sawyer said, “because I meant what I said. If I ever catch you and your boyfriend getting underfoot again--”

No, on second thought Bruce didn’t want to slug Clark. The look of flabbergasted dismay on Clark’s face made up for everything.

“Ma’am, no, he’s not my--”

“Darling,” Bruce threw an arm around Clark’s broad shoulders, “I think we should just thank the detective for her generosity and take that as our cue to go.”

Sawyer eyed Bruce with suspicion, but only said, “Sounds like a plan.”

“Come on,” Bruce leaned in to whisper, “let’s make our getaway before she changes her mind.”

Still speechless, Clark let himself be tugged away.

#superbat #deleted scene

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widows-writings · 2 years

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Happy Ending

Battinson! Bruce Wayne x OC

Chapter 1

Chpt 2

Summary: An old friend of Bruce's comes back after being gone for over 20 years. She was kidnapped, created into a weapon. The two reconnect and when Talia finds out about his secret life, she's beyond hurt that he never kept his promise, constructing the life that she wish she had.

a/n: Hello and welcome to a story that I'm more than likely going to drop. This was something that came to my mind today and I just had to start it. My OC is some weird combo of Wanda and Natasha from Marvel. This is a total self-insert story with my OC. I'm leaving out descriptors for my sake, incase you want to see yourself. I had the hardest time writing this without putting my own character in here, and for that I'm sorry. I just wrote this for me and if you enjoy it, that's awesome. If you came here for an x reader, I'm sorry. This is the best that I can offer. If you enjoyed it, leave a comment it really helps. I hope you enjoy! If you have any suggestions, let me know.

Warnings: Cursing, alluding to torture, trauma, kidnapping, if there is anything else, please let me know.

Words: 2,654

The sun was shining, there were two kids running around in a field of grass. Four adults mingling, talking to each other and having a good time. They looked content, happy with where they were. They were discussing plans for the evening. The boy’s parents were going to take their son to the theater. The girl’s were going to stay in, they had gone out just the other evening and the girl needed the rest before school started again. They said Talia was struggling to sleep, and they wanted to make sure that their daughter got enough rest. They wanted to make sure that she was healthy.

The two children settled with sitting on the swings, talking about things that they were excited for and things they were nervous about. The words were muddled, but a string of them were so clear it sounded like they were whispered in her ear. If anything happens to you, I’ll protect you. I promise.

Talia jerked awake in the seat of the plane that she was on. She was on her way back to Gotham. She was on her way home. She had gotten away from wherever she had been taken. It was in the north, but that was about all she knew. As she escaped, she was able to steal a plane and she set her course for home. If Talia was to stop and think about what had happened to her, she would remember things she didn’t want to remember. Talia stood up and headed to the cockpit. There were a couple of other people that had escaped with her and they were in charge of flying the plane. They were going to take the passengers where they wanted to go and find some place to go themselves.

They noticed her and waved and asked how she was doing. She waved back and shrugged her shoulders. How was she supposed to respond when you just escaped from a place where you were being created to cause war. That’s what she was doing. She was a weapon. Slowly as her body was waking up, everything was coming back to her. She was created to be a weapon, to kill people, to be something that someone could use if they wanted to cause trouble. She rubbed her forehead and leaned on the wall, letting out a slow and steady breath. Her stomach churned a couple of times, but after a couple of minutes, with her eyes closed, she was able to calm down again and she sat back down in her seat.

They stopped at a couple of other cities before stopping in Gotham. Talia took a jacket that was hanging up due to the heavy rain outside and waved to the pilots. When she waved, her fingers were laced with light blue strings of light. They disappeared in a wisp and Talia quickly tucked her hand in her pocket. She swallowed hard and left the plane, the rain soaking her hair and the foul stench of the city hitting her nose. She took in a deep breath, happy to be back home.

The plane taxied back and took off again and Talia watched, rain falling on her face and dripping off her chin. She looked lost, almost like she didn’t know where to go. She knew that she needed to leave the airstrip, so that was the first thing that she did. She tucked the jacket around her body tightly, trying to keep the cold out and warmth inside. The boots she wore slapped the puddles and sprayed water up. Talia groaned and rolled her eyes, but continued walking. She knew that where she needed to go wasn’t that far from where she was, so she just kept walking. A couple of cards drove by, but none of them stopped to ask how she was doing.

Talia didn’t take any offense to it, she knew that they weren’t going to trust just some woman walking the streets. It was Gotham, hardly anyone here was worth trusting. As she walked down the sidewalk, her mind bounced back and forth between the present and the past. One moment she was a grown woman, the next, she was walking arm in arm with her best friend. Thunder rolled almost right over her and that was the final sign she needed to be pulled from her day dreaming state. She clenched her jaw and let out a heavy sigh. That was when she heard a bike pull up next to her.

Talia wished she could say it was the weirdest thing that she had seen, but she was something of an odd creation herself. She was still figuring out all what they did to her after they took her. But what she was looking at went pretty high on the list. A man dressed as a bat. A six foot tall bat. Her lips curled in disgust, distrust and confusion as she stepped away from him. He turned off his bike and gave her a look that she swore she had seen before. He looked angry, upset that she was here, like she was trespassing.

“Look, I’m just passing through, it’s no big deal, I just need to get home.” She said, her mouth dry. It had been hours since the last time she spoke.

“Where are you going? I can give you a lift.” His voice was deep, it was soft. It reminded her of a hearth fire. Welcoming, yet distant.

“What, am I supposed to trust you? You’re dressed as a bat. Not the craziest thing I’ve seen, but it’s sure as shit up there.” She said, wrapping the coat tighter around her body.

“Are you from here?” He was asking, almost as if she had missed the memo of why he was dressed as a bat.

“It’s been a long time.” She said quietly, the pouring rain drowning out her voice.

There was a long, silent pause, and it was almost like Talia couldn’t even hear the rain, she was too busy looking at the man in front of her. He was staring at her like he expected her to do something or say something that proved that she was from here, or that she was even human. She would dare say that the look he was giving her was him trying to figure out if she was a good person or not. She wished that she could give him the answer to that, but it’s Gotham and you can’t trust anyone, especially if they don’t even know the answer themselves.

“I’m Batman.” He finally said, bringing them both back to the present, soaked with rain.

“You really couldn’t come up with anything better?” She asked. “I mean it makes sense, but you don’t have anything else to call yourself?”

“Would you prefer Vengeance? Shadows?”

“Wow, you’re really letting me know I can trust you.” She pursed her lips and nodded her head and kept walking.

She got pretty far before hearing the bike start up and not much to her surprise, he was following her, right by her side. She took in a deep breath and prayed that he would eventually leave her alone. She got her wish, because when she made the decision to go for her gun, his bike roared as he sped off down the street. Talia rolled her eyes and continued walking. She made it a couple more blocks before being approached by Batman again. Her shoulders dropped, she felt her eyes roll into the back of her head and she stopped yet again and looked at him, clearly annoyed.

“Please, let me take you to where you’re going.”

Talia had to think for a minute, she couldn’t let him know where she actually lived so she decided to tell him the next place that was on her mind. The place where an old friend used to live. “Fine. I’m going to Wayne manor.” She said.

She swore she saw his jaw tighten. “Get on.”

Batman scooched forward and gave her enough room to sit on his bike just behind him. “Thank you.”

He didn’t say anything in response. Instead, the second that Talia wrapped her arms around his middle, he sped off down the road. By the time they reached the manor, the sun was just starting to rise and Talia realized that if she had walked all that way, she would have more than likely ended up dead on the side of the road. She wasn’t going to say anything to Batman, how could she. She wasn’t going to thank some random man that wasn’t going to leave her alone.

The bike turned up the driveway to what Talia knew was the Wayne Estate, but all there was, was a mass amount of rubble. Burnt rubble. Soaked rubble. Everything that Talia was familiar with, was gone. It didn’t exist. The man pulled the motorcycle to the front door and looked over his shoulder at Talia. There was pain in his eyes and Talia knew that what happened here had affected all of Gotham.

“We’re here.” He whispered.

Talia got off the bike and walked towards the door. There was hardly anything left. The main structure of the building still stood, but it was burnt to all hell. The sign that said it was the Wayne’s didn’t even exist anymore. It was an orphanage. She swallowed hard, her hand feeling the engraved metal, telling her that her one friend wasn’t here anymore. She didn’t even hear the bike turn off, but she did hear his boots behind her. She pulled out her gun and pointed it at him. She didn’t know what else to do, she figured that he was tricking her, maybe she wasn’t even in Gotham.

It hadn’t even occurred to her that what she was seeing was so crazy that maybe, just maybe, she hadn’t gotten out. That she wasn’t free. She hadn’t gotten out, that she was just being tested again. Her stomach churned and she felt like she wanted to vomit. She could taste it in her breath. She was so shook to her core that she didn’t even know how to process what she was feeling right now. She couldn’t tell if it was betrayal, pain, or loss.

“What happened here?” She asked, her voice breaking.

“It burned down.”

“Where are the Waynes?”

“Wayne tower.”

“Who are you?”

“Batman.”

“Tell me the truth.”

“That is the truth.”

“How can I trust you?”

“You can’t.”

Talia stopped for a second, the gun still right between his eyes. He hadn’t moved, but she could see that he was worried about what she was doing with the gun. Whether or not she was going to pull the trigger or not. She could also tell that he wanted to help her, help her understand and catch up on the world that Gotham is now, but there was no way that she was going to trust him to tell her the truth. He was dressed as a bat, there was no way that this man was sane and he was going to tell her what happened in the most honest way. She walked down the steps and past the bike. She just wanted to get home. She wanted to believe that this was all real, but there was something nagging in the back of her mind, telling her that it was all fake.

Batman just watched as she walked away and eventually she tucked her gun away. She yawned, noticing how tired she was. The rain was starting to let up and the sun was lighting her path, and she was just a tad bit safer. Just across drive was another mansion. It was smaller compared to the Wayne Estate, but it was her home. She stood at the large gate at the front of the Wayne’s property and crossed her arms.

The bike came to life again, but instead of stopping, Batman just sped away. Talia wanted to know more, but she would figure it out the longer that she was here. She just needed to find a place that was familiar. She walked across the way and was happy to find that the house wasn’t like the estate across the way. It was still standing. Hell, even the lights were still on. Talia was expecting to see her parents, but she remembered how easily they handed her over, how they just told her that it was for her own good. It was the same night that the Waynes went to the movies.

The rain beat down on Talia as she stood outside of the house that she used to call a home. It was only for the first decade of her life, but she was okay with that. She had fond memories of the home. Now it was dark, soulless, something she could relate to. She reached her hand out and touched the plaque that had the address number on it. The numbers were bigger than her hands, and the metal was cold, making her withdraw her hand. Talia wiped the water on her hand on her large jacket and grabbed the key from her pocket. She unlocked and opened the door. When she looked inside, it took her a second to realize that everything was the way that it had been when she left.

The sitting room was just the same, it was homely, it filled Talia’s heart with warmth. She shook the water out of her hair before walking inside and before closing the door behind her. It was going to be a chore to get everything back to what it needed to be, but at least there weren't any holes, nothing really wrong with the place. Someone had been taking care of the house. She wiped her feet on the mat and put her umbrella in the basket that was there. She heard footsteps coming towards her and she raised her fists, almost like she was going to fight.

Who she saw coming her way was in fact the complete opposite of an enemy. He was an old friend, someone that helped raise her. Christopher. He served the same purpose as Alfred. He was also the man that was here until the day her parents died. They had died while she was gone, so while she hoped, there was no way she was going to ever see her parents again. It hurt her. She took in a deep breath and opened her arms and Christpher took her in, hugging her so tightly she swore her back popped.

She hadn’t seen him in years. It had been years since she had been home. She couldn’t tell if what she was feeling was shock or something else. She wasn’t feeling really any emotions about where she was and what was going on. It had been 20 years since she had been home. Taken from her parents arms. They gave her up. They said it was the best for her. They told her that she was going to be okay. She wasn’t. The hell that she had gone through, the pain, the torture. Every night she hoped that someone would come and save her and they didn’t do it. The only reason she was standing in her childhood home was because where she had been was destroyed. It was a pile of ashes. She had helped make it that way. Her arms wrapped around Christopher and the second she felt his heartbeat, she knew it was real. Where she was, it was tangible. It was on her fingers.

She was home. Talia’s shoulders shook as she held onto Christopher, sobbing into his shoulder. The only thing he did was pat her back. He was so happy she was home, but he was scared to catch her up on everything that had happened. Talia continued to cry as Christopher held her. That was the last thing she remembered.

*****

taglist: @hollandorks

#the batman #batman #fanfiction #the batman imagine #the batman 2022 #bruce wayne #battinson #bruce wayne x oc #bruce wayne imagine #batman x oc #battinson fic #bruce wayne fic #batman fic #happy ending

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the-delta-42 · 3 years

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Adopted

Ms. Mendeleiev was unwell, which meant the class had a substitute teaching them. They covered genetics, despite the class being physics. The substitute was sat behind the desk, lazily pointing around the board with a laser pointer.

“So, to recap, everyone in this room shares at least one trait with their parents or a family member.” Said the Sub, as Marinette frowned, “If you don’t, then I suggest you look at the local milkmen.”

“Sir,” Said Marinette, raising her hand, “I don’t resemble any of my family members and-”

“Then you’re adopted.” The Sub cut her off, making Marinette sit back, “If that’s everything, then class dismissed.”

Everyone was in a rush to get out of the room, Marinette trailing behind at the back of the group, her mind going over what the Sub said.

Marinette idly pushed her food around her plate, her mind still on what the teacher had said, her parent shared a look.

“Sweetheart, is everything alright?” Asked her mother, making Marinette stop and look up.

“Y-yeah, everything’s fine.” Lied Marinette, her parents silently calling her bluff, “Ugh, fine, we were learning about genetics in class and the teachers said that we all share at least one trait we have with family members,” Tom and Sabine shared a worried look, “and when I said I didn’t share any with my family members, he said that I was adopted, which is crazy, right?”

Marinette let out a nervus laugh, as both her parent looked uncomfortable, her father rubbed his eyes, while her mother sighed, “Marinette, we really didn’t want you to find out like this.”

“W-what?” Stuttered Marinette, her eyes wide and her body slowly going numb.

“Shortly after your father and I married, we got into an accident,” Said Sabine, grasping one of Marinette’s hands, “the result was that we weren’t able to have children.”

Marinette trembled, her mind swirling with what her parents told her.

“The news destroyed us,” Said Tom, “it nearly ended our marriage.”

“Then, we saw you,” Continued Sabine, “we saw you with one of the nurses at the orphanage and you were screaming your little head off, for some reason the nurse passed you off to us and you just stopped. I’ll always remember that moment, when you stopped crying and just stared up at us.”

Marinette looked at her mother, her adoptive mother, and asked “D-did they say who my birth parents were?”

“They didn’t know who your birth father was, but,” Tom scowled, clearly angry about something, “they knew who your birth mother was, and she wasn’t a good character.”

“What do you mean?” Asked Marinette, looking up at him.

“Marinette, when we adopted you, you didn’t have a name,” Said Sabine, looking in Marinette’s eyes, “your… mother was trying to sell you, saying your father was a rich man from America.”

“Why would she try to sell me?” Questioned Marinette, making both Tom and Sabine stiffen.

“Marinette,” Said Sabine, slowly, “She was trying to sell you for drug money.”

Marinette didn’t sleep that night, deciding to go on patrol, in an attempt to clear her head. It didn’t work. Marinette stood on the school steps, unsure if she should go in, a hand on her shoulder jerked her from her thoughts.

Adrien looked at her worriedly, trying to gage her emotions.

“Marinette,” Asked Adrien, slowly, “are you okay?”

Marinette nodded, Adrien frowned, quickly seeing through the fake smile the girl had given him.

“Are you sure?” Prompted Adrien, making Marinette’s shoulders slump.

“You know what the teacher said yesterday,” Said Marinette, hugging herself, “about me being adopted?”

Adrien nodded, “If you’re worried that you’re adopted, I’m sure your parents prove the teacher wrong.”

“Adrien,” Said Marinette, looking at the ground, “they told me that I am adopted.”

Adrien stared at Marinette, as she shivered, “They told me that my mother, my birth mother, tried to sell me for drug money, and that my father was some high flying American that stayed for a one-night stand and then jetted off for somewhere else.”

“D-do you want a hug?” Asked Adrien, making Marinette tearfully nod.

“Why?” Sobbed Marinette, into Adrien’s shoulder, “Why didn’t they want me?”

A – 12 Years Later

Damien scowled at the people at the party, Grayson had wandered off to talk to some random person, Todd was looking for something to shoot, Drake and Brown were busy introducing themselves to random strangers and his father was speaking to the host.

“I can’t thank you enough,” Said the host, Adrien, to Bruce, “after everything my father did, your contribution and assistance in this really helps all of his victims.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Said Bruce, taking a champagne glass from a waiter, “given how the Justice League didn’t take the information seriously, we thought it’d be best if we helped with the healing of the city.”

Adrien smiled and nodded, just as a little, blonde-haired girl toddled up to him. She tugged on Adrien’s trouser leg twice, making the man scoop her up in his arms.

“Emma!” Said a woman with dark hair, walking towards Adrien and the little girl, Emma, “Emma, I haven’t finished cleaning you up.”

“Mari, what happened?” Asked Adrien, making the woman, Mari, look at him.

Bruce’s breath caught in his throat, this woman, Mari, looked like his late mother, Martha Wayne.

“She spilt her juice down her front,” Said Mari, gently prying the girl from Adrien’s arms, “I managed to get it off her and to get her changed, however, she ran off before I could finish.”

“What needs doing?” Asked Adrien, as Marinette fixed a little flower to Emma’s front.

“That.” Said Mari, looking at Emma and Adrien.

“Papa, Maman told big meanie off.” Said Emma, getting a chuckle from Adrien.

“Well, that’s what happens when someone misbehaves.” Said Adrien, as Emma took a cuddly toy from her mother.

Marinette turned her eyes on Bruce and stuck out her hand, “Marinette Agreste, Founder, and owner, of MDC Designs.”

“Bruce Wayne,” Said Bruce, shaking her hand, “Owner and director of Wayne Enterprises.”

Marinette smiled, “Ah, another orphan.”

Bruce nodded, “True, but I was under the impression that your parents are still alive.”

“My adoptive parents are,” Corrected Marinette, as Adrien placed an arm around her, “I never knew my birth parents and the one time I spoke to my birth mother ended in a screaming match and a restraining order.”

Bruce winced, one of the women he’d met was like that, taking a gamble, Bruce removed his phone from his pocket, and pulled up a picture of the woman who’d turned up a few years ago and turned the screen to face Marinette, “Is that her?”

Marinette froze and nodded.

“Her name’s Bethan,” Said Bruce, putting the phone away, “I met her about 28 years ago.”

Marinette stiffened, before she turned to face Adrien, “I think it’s time for Emma to go to bed, I might do the same.”

Adrien nodded, as he passed a half-awake Emma over to Marinette. The strides Marinette took when she left the men long and fast.

Damien had been listening in on them and discreetly followed the mother and her daughter, he saw her enter the girls’ room and leaving it half-an-hour later, before she headed into another room, either her and her husband’s bedroom or a study.

Damien could hear the mother talking to someone, before a portal opened up beneath him and he fell onto a soft, plush chair, while the mother glared at him.

“I thought it was made clear, that guests are not allowed upstairs.” Said the mother, a pair of reading glasses in her hand and a massive tome in front of her.

“I thought you were hiding something.” Said Damien, scowling.

“Whether I’m hiding something or not is none of your business,” Said the mother, coldly, “what is your business is entertaining yourself downstairs, where you’re supposed to be.”

Damien felt she was like a wolf when her pups were threatened, “Why did you leave when my father told you about his stalker?”

The mother glared at him, before Damien suddenly found himself back at the party, behind his father.

“Father, the host’s wife is using magic.” Said Damien, making Bruce turn and look at him.

A small, red creature was floating in front of his father.

“I know.” Said Bruce, his voice strained, “I also know something that would change this, significantly.”

“What?” Asked Damien, as Bruce ran a hand down his face.

“Damien,” Said Bruce, looking at his son, “She’s your older sister.”

“Recognised: Batman: 02.” Came the computerised voice from the Zeta tube, as Batman stalked onto the Watch Tower.

Hal was on monitor duty, not trusting Lagoon Boy after his screw up with the Miraculous and Paris situation.

“Hey, Bruce.” Greeted Hal, not looking away from the monitors.

“I have a daughter.” Said Bruce, in response.

“Yeah, we all know about Stephanie and Cassandra.” Said Hal, as Batman sighed.

“Lantern,” Said Batman, making the other man turn, “I have a daughter who was living in Paris, that I didn’t even know about.”

Lantern was silent, before he uttered the immortal words of “Holy shit.”

Marinette sifted through paperwork on her desk, Adrien not too far away as he graded his student’s physics homework. The office door opened, as Alya let Emma into the room, the toddler going directly to Marinette and letting herself on her mother’s lap.

“I heard that one of the guests last night wanted an DNA test.” Said Alya, looking at Marinette.

“Yes, the director of Wayne Enterprises wanted several pieces of DNA from me, from hairs to body fluids.” Snarked Marinette, leaning back in her chair.

“Bruce Wayne,” Said Alya, frowning, “but why now?”

“Because he’s never met me before?” Said Marinette, leaning back in her chair.

“I can see the headlines now,” Said Alya, leaning against Marinette’s desk, “’Top Fashion Designer MDC Bruce Wayne’s Long-Lost Daughter.’”

“I hope not.” Laughed Marinette, getting to her feet, “We need to go outside, we’ve been cooped up in here all day and, quite frankly, I could use the fresh air.”

“That’s an excellent idea, Marinette.” Said Tikki, making everyone jump.

“For fucks sake, Tikki,” Gasped Marinette, as Emma looked up at her, “don’t do that!”

“What does ‘fuck’ mean?” Asked Emma, making everyone in the room go still.

“It’s a bad word and Maman is bad for using it.” Said Marinette, kneeling in front of Emma.

“Hmm.” Said Emma, frowning, “Maman, you’re told off.”

Emma skipped away, leaving Marinette crouching next to her desk.

“Did your daughter just say that you were told off?” Asked Alya, as Marinette groaned, “Anyway, where has Tikki been all week?”

“She’s been speaking to the Wayne’s on my behalf.” Said Marinette, making Adrien and Alya stop cold.

“You revealed your identity to them?” Demanded Adrien, rushing to catch up with his wife.

“I figured out that the Wayne’s are Gotham’s Heroes and, frankly, I prefer this to be on even footing where Batman is concerned.” Responded Marinette, scooping Emma up off the ground.

“Bruce Wayne’s Batman?” Asked Adrien, making Marinette smile.

“I had my suspicions, especially since Batman arrived to help us shortly after Bruce Wayne got settled into his hotel.” Said Marinette, looking at the flowers, “Besides, I had Max helping me figure it all out.”

“Didn’t you yell at him last week because your tropical fruit, carrot, popcorn and almond expresso was too hot.” Asked Adrien, making Alya gasp.

“Marinette, have you been having cravings?” Asked Alya, making Marinette freeze.

After a moment, Marinette nodded, getting a squeal from Alya and a gasp from Adrien.

“You’re pregnant?” Asked Adrien, his wife nodding.

A split second later, Adrien had Marinette in his arms and was laughing loudly, “That’s wonderful!”

“Ooh,” Said Alya, leaning back and smirking, “I can just imagine the fights those two will get into for our attention.”

Both Marinette and Adrien glared at Alya, while Emma looked at her parents, “I’m gonna be a big sister?”

Marinette nodded, smiling. Emma scowled and folded her arms, “Now I’m gonna have to share Maman and Papa.”

Marinette and Adrien laughed.

Bruce fidgeted as he waited to hear back from the scientist. Diana frowned, before getting up and walking over to him.

“It’s alright to be nervous,” Said Diana, sitting next to him, “I’ll admit, it was a shock to see Tikki again, but if she’s certain about her holder being your daughter, I see no reason to doubt her.”

“I don’t doubt she’s my daughter, Diana” Said Bruce, leaning forwards, “She figured out my identity shortly after I arrived.”

“She has your brains.” Said Diana, as Bruce’s shoulders slumped.

“When I attempted to broach the topic, she just shut down.” Said Bruce, staring at his hands, “After twenty-eight years of not hearing or seeing me, probably thinking that she was unwanted or wasn’t good enough.”

“She still scared the living shit out of me.” Grumbled Damien, still fuming over the portal in the floor trick.”

Diana looked over at Damien, the boy had come a long way from the weapon the League had made him. He was now a normal, well, as normal as Damien can get, teenager. Damien still had trouble getting over the fact he had a sister a decade older than him.

“Since she’s older than Grayson,” Said Damien, glaring at the ceiling, “Does that mean she’ll inherit the company and everything?”

“No, from what Tikki told us,” Said Diana, getting Damien to look at her, “She opted to dissolve Gabriel Agreste’s assets and connections, she then either sold off the remaining stocks or gave them to charities. I know the Thomas and Martha Wayne Foundation is one of the charities that has a constant supply of money being donated into it.”

“Probably because she thought she was an orphan.” Said Damien, going back to glaring at the ceiling.

“I’m a grandfather.” Said Bruce, after a moments silence.

Damien stopped glaring at the ceiling and gave his father a quizzical look, “You know, now that you mention it, you do look kinda old.”

Bruce glared, before throwing a pillow at Damien.

Marinette watched Emma playing with her dolls when Bruce and Damien sat down in front of her.

“I can’t stay long.” Said Marinette, looking at them.

“Why, because you hate us and don’t want anything to do with us?” Demanded Damien, making Marinette slowly turn and look at him.

“No, Emma has a doctor’s appointment.” Said Marinette, getting a frown Bruce and Damien.

“Ah.” Said Damien, getting a short glare from Marinette.

“Ah, indeed.” Said Marinette, as Emma toddled up to her.

“Maman, lookee.” Said Emma, holding something out for her mother to take.

Marinette looked at the frog her daughter dropped into her hands, before it hopped off.

“No! Bad Froggie! Come back!” Emma went to chase after it, only to trip and fall flat on her face.

Within moments, Marinette was cradling her wailing daughter, and starting to calm her down. Damien and Bruce watched Marinette, eventually, Emma’s wails died down into sniffles and the odd hiccup. Marinette held Emma, while the toddler took to sucking her thumb and cuddling up against her mother.

“We’ll have to meet up another time,” Sighed Marinette, picking her bag up, as Emma tightened her grip on her mother’s coat, “I think this little one needs to be seen to before anything else.”

Marinette gave a short whistle, and a dog bounded over towards her. Bruce watched his daughter and grandchild walk away. Damien watched something he’d never experienced.

Emma snored quietly, while Marinette watched from the doorway, her thumb going into her mouth as she slept. A plush toy of Chat Noir was held tightly in her arms.

“What’s wrong?” Asked Adrien, approaching Marinette with a cup of tea.

“All this time, I thought both my parents were mindless drug addicts who only care about themselves and having the fear that I’d turn out like them,” Said Marinette, taking the cup, “And in the past week, I’ve found that not only is my father alive, but he’s the biggest playboy in the world and able to buy literally anywhere and not have a dent made in his bank.”

Adrien was silent, before wrapping and arm around Marinette’s shoulders, “You know, when I lost my mother and my father started to become closed off to everything, I was terrified of waking up and finding myself like him. Then, you came along, as did Nino, Alya and everyone else. Your parents don’t define you, only you and who you are as a person can do that.”

Marinette hummed and continued to watch Emma.

“Are you going to talk to them tomorrow?” Asked Adrien, making Marinette look at him.

“I was thinking of inviting them to dinner, let them meet Maman and Papa.” Said Marinette, before downing the drink and leading Adrien to their bedroom, “But, frankly, it’s been a stressful day, for both of us, it seems.”

Adrien grinned and swept Marinette into his arms.

Damien felt like an intruder, as he watched Mr. Dupain and Mrs. Cheng playing with Emma, while Marinette, his sister, quietly quizzed Greyson on something to do with the circus. Agreste was ferrying plates of food from the kitchen to the table, a red husky and a black cat following him around. Bruce stared at his granddaughter, it felt odd for him to call the toddler that, he felt Dick sit next to him.

“Well, that was intense.” Said Dick, leaning back in the chair.

“She’s not much older than you.” Said Bruce, making Dick look at him.

“She’s what?” Asked Dick, frowning.

“She’s twenty-eight,” Continued Bruce, his arms folded, “and she’s practically built an empire.”

“That empire,” Said Marinette, looking at the two, “was built on the crumbling remains of Gabriel’s own company, I just took the reins, rebranded it and removed all trace of him as a final middle finger to him.”

Bruce and Dick stared at her, “The room’s built like an echo chamber, really helps when looking for a certain rascal.”

Emma squealed as Sabine tickled her. A loud thud emanated from the upstairs, making Marinette frown.

“I’ll be right back.” Said Marinette, disappearing up the stairs.

There was a silence.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TWO DOING?!” Yelled Marinette, making everyone jump. Marinette returned with a Vietnamese man and a young woman with pick hair, “These morons though it’d be a good idea to climb up the side of the house and in through the window.”

“The door was locked.” Said the man, making the woman hit him.

“Kim didn’t want to use the bell.” Said the woman, folding her arms.

“The last time I was here, there was a power cut that almost killed Adrien’s mum!” Said the man, Kim, raising his arms above his head.

Marinette gave a sharp whistle, making them flinch, “Kim, ringing the doorbell isn’t going to cause a power cut, Alix, you knew this and still decided to climb up the side of the house.”

The woman, Alix, winced, before adopting a hurt look.

“Don’t even try the wounded rabbit act with me.” Said Marinette, pointing at Alix, “I trust Kim to be the idiotic one out of the two of you, I really don’t need you deciding the prove me wrong.”

Both mumbled out a sorry and looking at the floor.

Emma stomped, more toddled, up to the two adults, “You’re very told off!”

There was a snort, before Mr. Dupain fell over, laughing.

Marinette looked at her daughter, chubby cheeks and pigtails, trying to look intimidating. Scooping the toddler into her arms and gently bouncing her, “I think someone needs a nap.”

“Nuh-uh,” Yawned Emma, rubbing her eyes, “Not sleepy.”

Marinette just shushed her and took Emma back up to her room. Kim and Alix awkwardly shuffled their feet, before Adrien cleared his throat and jerked his head into the kitchen.

“This is a big house.” Said Dick, looking around the dining room, “Not as big as Wayne Manor, but still big.”

“It’s not as big as Gabriel Agreste’s house,” Said Sabine, looking at him, “but, Adrien gave the house to the Heroes of Paris as a base of operations.”

“Considering what he did to it, I’m not surprised.” Said Tom, standing up, “He made a secret bunker underneath it and in the attic.”

“Clearly, something only someone with some serious issues would do.” Said Sabine, frowning, while Bruce and Dick shared a worried look.

“Foods ready.” Said Adrien, as he, Alix and Kim ferried the food in from the kitchen.

Marinette had gone to bed directly after dinner, saying she had a headache, Damien quietly followed her, believing she was still hiding something. Damien was disappointed when she got changed and actually went to bed.

“What’cha doin’?” Asked a toddler’s voice, making Damien jump.

Behind him, stood the toddler that his sister, it felt weird calling Agreste that, had been carrying around in the majority of instances he’d seen her.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” Said Emma, a blanket and toy trailing behind her.

“That’s none of your business.” Snapped Damien, making Emma take a deep breath.

Panicking, Damien grabbed the toddler and held her mouth shut, “Your family is hiding something, and I’m going to find out what.”

Emma suddenly looked scared, making Damien smirk, “You know what it is, don’t you?”

“Put. Her. Down. Now.” Came Marinette’s voice, cold and sharp.

Damien froze, before slowly turning and facing Marinette. The dog from before had her teeth bared and a snarling at Damien. Damien dropped Emma onto the floor, with Marinette quickly scooping her up and glaring at Damien, non-verbally instructed him to follow her.

She found Adrien, Kim, Alix and her parents speaking with Bruce and his crowd.

“You need to leave. Now.” Said Marinette, as she entered the room.

Bruce opened his mouth to asked why, before he spotted red marks on Emma’s face and Damien trailing behind Marinette.

“What did he do?” Asked Bruce, already feeling that any progress that had been made was lost.

“I just caught him manhandling my daughter.” Snapped Marinette, as Damien just scowled, “If the rest of you are like him, then I don’t want any of you around.”

“Mrs. Agreste,” Said Dick, standing up, “I can assure you, none of us are like Damien, we actually thought he’d been making progress.”

Damien just stood by the door, scowling at the ground.

“Well, Jason can be a bit rough around the edges, but that’s because he almost died.” Said Dick, making Marinette’s eyes fall on Jason.

“I’ll take that as an explanation as to why he has a hunting knife stuffed in his boot.” Said Marinette, making Jason take his foot off the table.

“It seems that I need to speak with Damien,” Said Bruce, standing up, “perhaps I can find out what he was thinking.”

Marinette frowned, before nodding, “In all honesty, he’s the only one I keep having a problem with.”

Bruce gave a strained smile, before walking past her and grabbing Damien’s arm and pulling him into another room.

“I’m going to grab a dressing gown,” Said Marinette, handing Emma over to Adrien, “and some pain killers.”

In the other room, Bruce pulled out a chair and sat Damien down, “What the hell were you thinking?”

“She’s hiding something!” Protested Damien, making Bruce groan, “Don’t tell me I’m being paranoid, she’s clearly moved things from their designated places before we arrived!”

“Of course, she’s hiding things, Damien,” Said Bruce, looking at his son, “do you remember what Diana called her?”

“The Guardian on the Miraculous.” Said Damien, before a look of realisation appeared on his face, “Oh. Shit.”

“If that’s why you’re creeping about the place, you should’ve just asked.” Said Marinette, making both Bruce and Damien jump.

“How do you do that?” Demanded Damien, “First your daughter does it and now you!”

Marinette froze, before waving her hand, making a window open into the other room.

“What do you mean, Emma’s done it?” Asked Marinette, zeroing in on Damien.

“Just before you told me to drop her, she appeared out of nowhere.” Said Damien, Marinette’s frown deepening.

“Emma isn’t tall enough to open her bedroom door, and I made sure to have all the Kwami accounted for tonight.” Said Marinette, just as Emma appeared in the room, giggling.

“Oh, fuck.” Swore Marinette, making Emma frown and toddle over.

“Naughty word.” Said Emma, pointing at a jar on the side.

Marinette sighed, before pulling a couple of euros out of her pocket and depositing them in the jar. Emma nodded, satisfied, before toddling over to Damien, “Naughty.” Emma pointed to the jar again, getting a snort from Bruce.

Damien looked at his father and sister, before sighing and pulling a roll of euro bills from his pocket and dropped it into the jar.

Emma beamed up at him, before running over to her mother. Marinette sighed, before picking her up and walking back to the rest of the group.

Clark looked at the newspaper, nearly spitting his coffee over the front of it.

MDC IS A WAYNE!

Clark groaned and hoped Bruce hadn’t adopted a grown woman. Connor looked up from his book.

“Is everything okay, Kal?” Asked Connor, frowning as M’Gann, Garfield and Bart read the headline.

“Bruce has adopted a grown woman.” Said Clark, starting to stand up.

“Actually,” Said Bart, looking up at him, “Marinette is Batman’s biological daughter.”

People from several blocks away heard the loud what coming from Clark’s apartment.

“Smallville, if one of your super friends has another kid, you don’t need to act surprised by it.” Said a groggy Lois, rubbing her eyes.

Ra’s Al Ghul glared at the headline; he knew of the girl. He also knew of the Great Guardians; the League had capitalised on the power vacuum that had been left in their absence. He let out a sharp sigh through his nose and started reading.

Marinette looked around the Watchtower, frowning at the sight of the Justice League.

“I’m not even going to start on how impractical some of your costumes are.” Said Marinette, before looking at the trees, “How’d you get the birds up here?”

“You know, we still have no clue.” Said Flash, as a bird landed on Marinette’s head.

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redhoodssweetheart · 3 years

Text

Still Star-Crossed Part Two

Sequel to Star-Crossed Lovers, please read Sad Ending Version Two for this to make sense)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Requested: No

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Swearing, angst, more to be added later

Description: Jason’s been gone for nearly two years. Y/N has taken up the Red Hood mantle, but things are about to become complicated.

The manor was quiet when she pulled in on her bike. She looked up at the façade and wondered if he was in there. If he could see her arriving from the windows. For the better part of the night she had tossed and turned, not getting any sleep. How could she when this bomb had been dropped on her? Jason was here, but it wasn’t her Jason.

And he thought she wasn’t good enough to be the Red Hood.

She scoffed at that and swung off the bike. She didn’t need his validation, her Jason would be proud of her. Probably be a little mad for her taking risks, but he knew she could handle herself. She had been Black Masks bodyguard for fuck’s sake. She had taken him on and beaten his ass, she could handle the worst Gotham had to throw at her.

Titus happily greeted her when she entered. Alfred came around the corner, alerted by Titus’s barking, “Miss Y/L/N, so good to see you.”

“You too, Alfred. Where’s everyone?”

“The Cave,” he told her, taking her leather jacket from her. “Will you be heading down there?”

“Not yet,” she said as she headed for the stairs. “There’s some ghosts I need to say hello to.” Alfred didn’t say anything as she climbed the stairs, but she felt his eyes on her back. She paused outside Jason’s door before reaching for the handle and twisting it. Inside the air smelled a bit stale, but there was still a hint of him here. She wasted no time moving toward the desk and sitting in his chair.

For a moment she stared at the pictures of her and him. She had had them printed when she discovered them on his phone. Then she had put them in here just in case Jason’s ghost came to visit. Then she reached under the desk and found the secret compartment pulling out a worn envelope.

Sweetheart,

I knew you’d find this compartment. I knew you’d likely tear the room apart to see what secrets I had left behind. This is my last one.

You’re asleep on the bed right now and you look so peaceful. Watching you sleep was always one of my favorite moments with you. To see you sleep soundly and safely in my arms. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do for you, make you feel safe. I know the nightmares that can come from trauma. I know that you’ve been dealt a shitty hand just like I have.

I was surprised that night I found you on the roof guarding Black Mask. I thought, “How can someone so beautiful be working for such a monster?” The thought of having to take you down with him never set well with me. Then you disappeared and made me think you had died (roughest couple of days of my life). I raged at the thought that I had failed you.

You told me that we were merely star-crossed lovers and maybe you’re right. Maybe we’re just not meant to be, but sweetheart I would take a thousand lifetimes of do-overs with you than anyone else. They say soulmates find each other in every lifetime and I think that’s gonna be us until we finally get it right. We’ll drink from the Lethe together and start anew. It’s you and me against the world from now until this little rock of ours explodes and we’re nothing but dust and shadows.

I don’t plan on dying anytime soon, but this is just in case. Call it a gut feeling. And I’m sorry that mine can’t be a fake death. I love you, sweetheart, and I’ll be waiting for you.

Yours from now until the end of time,

Jason

He had written that the night he died as if he had known. She didn't know what had possessed her to go looking for anything he could have left behind, but she had and that’s when she found this letter on top of the one she had left for him when she disappeared. Maybe he didn’t want to leave her without final words in case something did happen. But the letter had brought her some comfort in the days after his death.

“What are you doing in here?” She spun at the sound of his voice and saw him standing in the doorway, the light from the hall framing him there. “You can’t just enter someone’s room.”

She frowned, “This is my room when I decide to stay at the manor.” She gestured to the photos on the desk, “The better question would be what the hell are you doing in his room.”

“I may not be this earth’s Jason, but I’m still Jason,” he crossed his arms over his chest and matched her frown. “And I revoke your access to this room.”

It felt like a knife had been stabbed through her heart, “You can’t do that!”

“I can and just did. I don’t need your snooping through my things,” he told her.

“Your… your things!” She screeched. “None of this is yours! I don’t care if you do have his face!” She stood and clutched the letter to her chest. “Find a different room, there are practically a million in this place.”

“I like this one, it’s like mine back home,” he was going to be stubborn about this. “And leave the letter when you go.”

This time she felt the air leave her lungs, “No.” She shook her head, “You can’t, it’s mine.”

“Leave. The. Letter.”

“Fuck you,” she spat.

He stepped closer to her, their eyes locked, she noticed that instead of blue his eyes were green. She wondered why and how. Had he been born that way? Or had something happened to turn them green? “Either leave it or I rip it out of your hands.”

She fought back the tears that were threatening to build in her eyes. She couldn’t have the last thing Jason had given to her destroyed. Carefully she put it back on the desk and with a deathly calm voice she said, “If anything happens to that letter, I will rip you apart with my bare hands and you’ll never get to see your earth again.” She bumped him on her way out and he heard her footsteps on the stairs.

He moved toward the desk and picked up the letter reading it over and then glancing back at the door where she had disappeared.

“Damian, ring. Now.” She snapped at the younger boy. He was the only person who wouldn’t hold back with her and she needed to let out her frustrations.

Damian didn’t need to be told twice to get his ass in the ring and hurried over. The others watched wondering what had happened. Alfred had told them that she had seemed reserved and quiet when she came in, like she had been after Jason had died. But this?

This was a whole new level to whatever was going on with her.

Damian swung into the sparring ring and eyed her warily, “Y/L/N do you need to talk?”

She shook her head, “I need to fight. I just need to keep moving.” They dropped into their stances and went at it. Y/N and Damian weren’t holding their punches and when Damian kicked her in the stomach she flew back. He instantly seemed regretful as she clamored to her feet, “Again.”

“Y/N,” this time she could hear the hesitation in his voice. “This isn’t good.”

“Damian, let me in the ring,” Bruce said. Damian swung out and Bruce entered. “Take out your frustrations on me, Y/N.”

And she launched herself at him. Jason stood at the top of the railings of the Batcave watching her. He tracked every movement and saw when she became sloppy. She wasn’t fighting because she was angry, she was fighting because she was hurting. “How could you give him Jay’s room?!” She screamed and everyone seemed to hold their breath. Jason straightened. “How could you?!” She was slapping Bruce’s chest, tears pouring from her eyes, sobs escaping between gasps for breath.

Bruce pulled her into his arms and held her there until she stopped struggling. “I’m sorry, I… I wasn’t thinking.”

“That’s all I have left of him.” Jason’s heart broke at the brokenness in her tone. “All I have.”

“Come on, let’s go upstairs and get something to calm you down,” Bruce helped her out of the ring, murmuring apologies and words of comfort to her.

Then Jason felt a fist connect with his jaw. He jerked up and saw Dick standing there breathing heavy, “What. The. Hell. Did. You. Do?”

Jason’s hands instantly went into fists and he said, “What makes you think that this is my fault?”

“Because ever since your ass showed up she’s been a wreck! It took us an entire year to get her back to a good place and within the span of a day she’s an emotional wreck!” Dick poked Jason in the chest. “I don’t care if you don’t like her, but on this earth our Jason trusted her, he would have accepted her taking on the name Red Hood - albeit he may have been a little scared - but he trusted her. We’re not asking that of you. You’re here for a week tops if Barry can figure out which earth he went to and drag your ass back to it. So in the meantime, you play by our rules and that means treating Y/N with the Goddamn respect she deserves. Am I understood?” Dick snarled.

“Understood,” Jason replied and watched as Dick stalked away, probably to go check on Y/N. The others were watching him with interest and he snapped, “What?” None of them said anything, they just turned and busied themselves with other tasks.

Bruce had Alfred take Y/N back to her apartment, he didn’t want her driving and she refused to stay under the same roof as that imposter. Thinking about staying under the same roof as him made her blood boil and she didn’t need the stress. She just needed silence.

She tossed her keys onto the table and went to take her jacket off when she heard the crinkle of paper. Confused she checked each of the pockets until she pulled out a familiar folded up sheet of paper.

Heart pounding she opened it to reveal the letter Jason had written her. She stared at it with wide eyes before hugging it to her chest and fighting back a fresh wave of tears.

But why had he given it back to her? What made him change his mind? And when had he snuck it into her jacket?

She didn’t care, she was just happy it was safely back in her hands.

#Jason Todd x Reader #Jason Todd x Reader angst #Jason Todd x Fem!Reader #Jason Todd #Jason Todd fanfiction #Jason Todd fanfic #Jason Todd angst

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quillsareswords · 4 years

Note

May I request angst? Like. Hard. Sad. Tear-jerking angst? Damian, related. Specifically with him breaking down into tears and Y/N being there to hold him and help him feel better. It can be about anything, im just. Really, really in the mood for some teary-eyed Damian and comforting Y/N (who might be crying too).

Prompt List • Masterlist (in bio)

For a whole of ten minutes, no one knows what to do.

Your bottom lip quivers, so you bite down on it.

Bruce's eyes are watering, but he ignores it and hopes everyone else in the room does, too.

You pretend not to see Damian's hands shaking, because you know acknowledging it will only make it worse. Everyone knows that.

The white walls and cheery sticker decals seem to mock the three of you on such a truly wretched day. People smiling and grinning with their pets, and here the four of you are. It's crowded already, but you don't relinquish your space on the floor. Your hand runs over sleek black fur robotically for too long.

Bruce stays behind to finish with paperwork and arrangements. You walk Damian out to your car, instead of the one he came in, with Bruce.

You drive home. You and Bruce both suggested staying at your apartment for a day or two, but he insisted on going home for the night. You don't blame him, wanting the comfort of absolute familiarity.

The twenty minute ride is silent. The radio isn't even on. Nothing can make this any better.

You all try your hardest, though. Alfred meets you both at the door with warm drinks and brownies. You accept the platter while Damian bee lines for the staircase.

Even Alfred seems deflated and tired.

He sits on the bed the minute he's through his bedroom door. Stares blankly at the hardwood.

You inhale deeply, doing your damnedest to hold it together, for his sake. He needs a solid reassurance right now, and you can't be that for him if you're a blubbering mess of mascara and grief.

You turn around just in time to catch his eyes drifting to the corner of the room, beside his reading chair. His gaze lingers on the fluffy, memory foam square for exactly 27 seconds before he starts to tear up. He sniffs a little indignantly, slants his eyebrows, and looks back to his hands. They jerk your way about the same time his lip starts to wobble.

"Oh, Dame," you breathe, half staggering toward him.

His arms wind around your legs and his face squishes against you. His shoulders jerk with a sob and your shirt is wetly warm.

You smooth one hand down his back and use the other to run between locks of hair in an attempt to soothe him as much as you can. You know there is nothing you can really do, but you do your best.

The room is too quiet. Memories are flashing through his mind, and he cried harder with each one. You've never seen him sob like this before: like his world has completely collapsed and there's nothing he can do to fix it.

Your chest aches for him. The way his face twists and his fists ball your shirt wrenches your heart. This is where you give up being strong and sink to your knees instead.

He follows you to the floor, until you're holding each other up, the choking sputtering sobs of lost loved ones stabbing through silence like an angry deer's antlers.

You loved that dog as much as he did.

You get a grip on yourself first. Your breaths are stuttered, but more even than his will be for awhile.

You resort to motherly comfort, because you don't know what else you can do. You pick a random tune and hum softly, rubbing long strokes up and down his back while you rock side to side. An image of Titus' great head in your lap catches your eye, up on his wall, and your vision blurs again. You keep it to quiet tears, though.

He eventually calms down enough not to shake so violently in your arms. His head weighs on your shoulder, fingers loosely toying with the cotton of your shirt. Much like yourself, his breathing is nowhere close to even or steady, but it's getting there.

You inhale deeply. "We're gonna be okay, Dame," you exhale slowly against his ear. "We're gonna be okay."

#damian wayne #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne headcannon #damian wayne blurb

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thelittleredrobinhood · 3 years

Text

Oblivion

Hey everyone, sorry I haven’t posted in a while but I’m hoping to be more active now! This is a song fic I’ve been working on for a while. Warning it’s pretty much all angst.

Length: 2,156 words

Song: Oblivion by Bastille

Fandom: Batman

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne

Ratings: Teen and Up

Trigger Warnings: Major Character Death (Canonical), Blood Mention, Kidnapping, Police Mention. If you would like me to add any please let me know!

Summary: Damian lay peacefully sleeping in his fathers arms, Bruce only hopes his peace could last forever. But nothing lasts forever, especially in a life lived on the edge of oblivion.

Damian’s breathing began to even out halfway through some movie Bruce couldn’t name. He was too busy watching Damian, enjoying a moment where his son truly looked like a child, with no walls, no glare, just peace.

Patrol had been rougher than usual, had been for a while now. Slowly but surely Gotham was losing to the darkness within her, no matter how hard they tried. It was as if Gotham had given up, that she knew the war was already lost.

As the voices on the screen grew louder Damian shifted in his sleep. The man knew he should shut it off and carry Damian up to bed, but he didn’t dare move, didn’t dare risk ending the moment of peace his son had found, wherever he had gone behind his eyes.

When you fall asleep with your head upon my shoulder.

When you're in my arms but you've gone somewhere deeper.

As the end credits rolled Bruce finally shut off the TV, picked Damian up and carried him to his room. It always shocked him how light Damian was, that even with all he was capable of, he was still just a kid.

Gently he placed Damian under the covers and tucked him in, just as Alfred used to do for him. Though instead of leaving he found himself sitting on the edge of the bed, brushing the hair from his sons closed eyes. He never showed this affection when the boy was awake, he couldn’t. As much as he loved him, he knew his child needed a mentor, not a father. And he couldn’t possibly be both.

So, he found himself in times like these crossing that invisible line. Letting himself care and love, but also worry. His son had been forced to grow up far too quickly and yet had so much growing still to do. And in these small moments, no matter how hard he tried not to, he always wondered if it was worth it.

This was a path that had taken so much from both of them, and one miss-step could cost them what little they had left. But hadn’t they given enough? Hadn’t his son given enough? Because as proud as Damian acted Bruce knew deep down the boy still felt like he needed to give more to make up for his past, to prove himself. That no matter what Damian said, he never felt good enough.

Bruce only wished Damian would know that he was proud.

Are you going to age with grace?

Are you going to age without mistakes?

Slowly Bruce stood from the bed and made his way out of the room. Pausing only for a moment, he took one last glance at his son, then he closed the door behind him.

He stopped in the hall and drew in a long tired breath, slowly raking his hands down his face. It had been a long day, the exhaustion ached in his limbs. He should sleep, but that never seemed to help anymore.

Bruce released his breath with a sigh and began the short walk to the Batcave. An action he had done so many times he barely noticed when he came to a stop in front of the large computer, and began pulling up today’s files.

Though as many reports as he finished, there seemed to be an ever-growing number behind them. He wondered idly if it would ever end; he hoped so. If only for his children’s sake.

He turned for a moment to the glass case behind him. Inside his suit stood proud, the symbol on its chest unmistakable, even when surrounded by the darkness of Gotham. The symbol that kept some awake at night and yet let others sleep soundly.

At first, he had loved the thrill, the freedom of no identity, of no one knowing who he was. No one judging his every move, measuring him up against a man he barely even knew. He was finally free of Bruce Wayne, but then Batman became an identity of its own.

Sometimes he wondered if he was better off without the mask, but the good they do can’t be done in the light. At least not yet.

Are you going to age with grace,

Only to wake and hide your face?

The daylight came and went as if it had never been there at all and Batman once again found himself jumping into the fray, Robin by his side. As the Bat finished off his last thug, he turned to watch his partner. There were still two men left standing, but it was nothing Robin couldn’t handle. Though as Batman watched he couldn’t help but see the boys that came before him.

Dicks energetic grace, Jason’s ruthless accuracy, Tim’s calculating stare. All of them willing to die for this cause, his cause. And in the end, they all will. One way or another this fight will take them all. Whether it’s their bodies in the field or their minds once they leave it, the people they were when this started won’t make it out alive. Unlike himself who doesn’t have a choice.

No matter what happens to him neither Batman nor Bruce can ever change. Both a symbol, one of justice and one of hope, and both far too needed in these dark times. Neither can ever falter. Neither can ever die.

When oblivion is calling out your name,

You always take it further than I ever can.

The night air was cold in his lungs as Batman watched the fight unfold around him. A small group of thugs had kidnapped a little boy from his bedroom window, hoping to make some money.

They were in an old abandoned warehouse, near the port. If you listened you could almost hear the waves, but Bruce had other things on his mind. There weren’t many kidnappers left standing, there had only been six to begin with, but a few tried to make a run for it.

“Robin, fall back and make sure they don’t escape,” he ordered over his shoulder as he threw a punch, knocking the man he had been fighting out cold.

“The police can handle them,” Robin replied, finishing his last opponent and going to help the child.

“Now, Robin.” The tone of Batman’s command left no room for arguments.

His partner sighed but followed orders, turning his attention to the two fleeing criminals. They had barely made it twenty feet, stumbling around in the chaos, their weapons lost in the fight. Robin went for his batarang when he caught movement in the corner of his eye.

The kidnapper Robin had just fought had gotten back up and was heading for the child. Disobeying Batman’s order Robin abandoned the escaping men and ran for the young boy.

The thug made it to the child first and pulled out a knife. Thinking quickly Robin tackled the man, taking his knife and lodging it in his shoulder. A non-fatal wound but a painful one. The man quickly dropped to the ground screaming in pain, blood pouring out of his arm.

Robin ignored him and turned to the small boy, who jerked back in fear. Slowly, he undid the small child’s bindings and helped him stand. Batman had finished with the other kidnappers and the police were quickly making their way inside.

After handing the kid over to the cops, Batman and Robin left the scene. Their job finished for the night, though the ride home was made in silence.

The Batmobile came to a slow stop and Damian was quick to leave, ready to put the night behind him when a voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Robin, you disobeyed my order,” Batman stated, his voice echoing off the cave walls.

“I saved the boy, doesn’t that matter?” Robin aske, turning on his heel.

“Of course it matters, but you also stabbed a man in front of him, Damian.” Removing his cowl Bruce looked into the eyes of his son.

“I had to take him down!” He replied, the anger and frustration clear in his voice.

“Not like that. We can’t do that; we can’t be like them,” Bruce responded, the frustration growing in his voice as well.

“I’m not one of them, stop acting like I am! I don’t need you or anyone else controlling me,” Damian shouted.

After a moment’s hesitation his son turned back around and marched up the stairs, ending their conversation for the night. This isn’t the first fight they had like this and Bruce knows it won’t be the last.

When you play it hard, and I try to follow you there.

It's not about control but I turn back when I see where you go.

With a frustrated sigh Bruce turned to the computer and started on the night’s files. In the corner of the screen, he pulled up the news coverage on what happened. He paused for a moment when he saw the boy reunited with his parents. He truly is proud of Damian, but there’s more to it than that.

The boy is crying, held in his parent’s arms. Robin may have kept him safe but there are more types of pain then physical. The kid had to watch it all up close; that affects people. They are supposed to be heroes, the ones good people aren’t afraid of, but what happens when you’re scared of the good guys, too? What road will that lead him down?

When Bruce says Robin can’t be like the criminals they fight, it’s not that he thinks Damian is evil, it’s that he doesn’t want people to think he is. His son has a chance to be something new, not just the weapon his mother wanted him to be.

He can make his own future now.

Are you going to age with grace?

Are you going to leave a path to trace?

A hand on his shoulder snaps Bruce out of his thoughts, though more than anything he wishes he could go back. Wishes he didn’t have to face reality quite yet. That everything was just as it was then.

Damian lay in his arms again, just as he had the night Bruce carried him to bed, but he wasn’t sleeping. Or maybe he was, that’s how some people choose to rationalize it. But it isn’t rational, it isn’t fair, though what in their lives ever were.

He looked so relaxed. More relaxed than Bruce had ever seen him with his eyes open. He should close them, but he feels frozen in place. Those eyes had been so full of life only a moment ago, now they might as well have been made of glass. But while lifeless they also held no pain. Bruce chocked back a sob; his son was finally free.

A voice spoke behind him, though he didn’t hear the words. The syllables and tones sounded meaningless and foreign, but he knew what they meant. It was time to go, but he couldn’t. The hand on his shoulder grew firmer, the words louder, but he didn’t dare move. His eyes locked on his son, his child. Now forever, just a child.

But oblivion is calling out your name,

You always take it further than I ever can.

The wind blows through the trees, but the sky is clear. No storms or rain, hail or snow. Just the bright light of a new day. A day his boy will never see.

It’s almost ironic, that the one day the sun shines through Gotham’s clouds is the one day no one wants it to. The one day it won’t be cherished. The one day it won’t be remembered, because no one is looking up. Their eyes cast to the ground, to the new stone among the old, to the name engraved upon it. Damian Wayne.

A meaningless name for a meaningless boy. A lie for the people, an act for the world. This name was only a burden to him, an unbearable weight. A brand on his life that forever marked him for greatness. Forced him to surrender himself so that he may be molded into what others wanted. The heir to Bruce Wayne. The heir to Talia Al Gul. The heir to a future of anyone but himself.

No, his son’s true grave lies deeper, under rocks and dirt. A simple glass case, with a small scrap of fabric, a costume covered in blood. A monument to the boy he really was, to Robin. To his hardened eyes and tattered edges. He may not have been free in life, but it was the closest he ever got.

He can only hope the real Damian is remembered, that after everything he’d done, that after everything he fought for, his redemption came. And that the rest will fade into oblivion.

When oblivion is calling out your name,

You always take it further than I ever can.

#bruce wayne #damian wayne #batman #dc comics #tw: major character death #tw: blood #tw: kidnapping #tw: police mention #angst #bastille #sad

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dessarious · 4 years

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Misconceptions, Miscommunication, and Misinformation Pt90

Inspired by @ozmav Maribat AU

AO3 Beginning Previous Next

As Damian walked to Chloe’s suite his scowl sent multiple employees in the opposite direction. The text Chloe had sent him late last night had put him in a far worse mood than usual. He’d spent the morning yelling at everyone he could think of for not warning him Selina might be showing up in Paris before his father. He’d come to the hotel to warn the woman to stay away from Marinette and her family. Chloe he figured could handle herself. Selina either wasn’t in her room or was ignoring him so now he had to bother Chloe to let him in the room. He knocked on the door. Then did it louder when she took too long to answer. He was about to knock a third time when the door was jerked open by his father’s very annoyed looking fiance.

“Will you keep it down, you’ll wake them.” He was too stunned to answer at first, but his mouth recovered quickly.

“I’m not going to be quiet just so you can clean Chloe out. The girl may be obnoxious but you’re my responsibility until Father gets here to keep you in line.” He cringed internally as soon as he said it but remained completely stoic on the outside. He always overreacted when he had to deal with her but there was no way he would back down now.

“I’m perfectly capable of being responsible for myself and I would be insulted that you’d think I would steal from a teenager but you’ve always seen far more deficiencies in me than I actually have. If you don’t believe me though, you can always ask him.” She pointed to the side and he saw Digg in a chair, reading. The Kwami didn’t even bother looking up. Instead of talking he turned and went to Chloe’s bedroom door.

“Damn it Damian. I told you they’re sleeping, leave them alone.” He rolled his eyes but did pause long enough to respond.

“Marinette won’t wake for anything less than an airhorn and I’m more than willing to risk Chloe’s temper to make sure you’re supposed to be here.” He stopped when he jerked the door open though. The girls were indeed sleeping but they both looked horrible. It was obvious Chloe had been crying and he was honestly a little afraid she’d kill him if she knew he’d seen her in such a state. Marinette looked incredibly pale and… small. He tended to forget just how little she was when she was awake because of her personality but asleep… she looked weak and frail and he did not like that. Plagg and Tikki looked up at him from their position on the girl’s pillow and Damian just gave them a nod before he slowly shut the door.

“Just because you want to see the worst in me doesn’t mean everything out of my mouth is a lie.” Damian just rolled his eyes before turning to Digg.

“Make sure you keep an eye on her.” The Kwami just grunted at him. Selina pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a sigh. It sounded resigned.

“Damian, come out to the balcony so we can talk.”

“Absolutely not. I don’t have anything to say to you.” He was not about to listen to another lecture on his behavior, let alone one from her.

“Please. We need to find a way to at least be civil with each other for your father’s sake.” He opened his mouth to tell her that hell would freeze over before that would happen but paused as Luka’s face flashed through his mind with a disapproving frown. After his outburst at the bakery, Luka had asked him about what was going on. No matter how Damian explained it the other boy still seemed to think he needed to be the one to change his mind. At the same time, Selina had never really asked to talk to him before either. They’d just traded barbs and went their separate ways. As much as he hated the idea of compromise it couldn’t hurt to just listen and tell her how ridiculous it was.

“Fine. You can talk but I doubt it’ll help.” He went to the balcony without waiting for her and just leaned on the railing. She followed a minute later but didn’t speak right away.

“We’ve never actually talked about why you have such an issue with me.” He shot her a bland look.

“Because it’s obvious.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I’d still like to hear you say it.” This was pointless. But if he left now chances were his father and/or brothers would corner him later and that would be even worse.

“You’re a thief for starters.”

“And you were an assassin. People change Damian. I haven’t stolen anything that wasn’t necessary for a mission in over a year.” He wanted to argue with that, but he couldn’t come up with anything. He’d even been tracking robberies to see if anything looked like her and come up empty.

“It’s not the same thing. I didn’t know any better.” She let out an annoyed huff.

“And you think I did in the beginning? Unlike you no one was there to pull me out of that mindset. Once I was on my own I only stole from people who could afford it. When it’s the only life you know, the only skillset you have, it takes a lot to make you change. It takes a lot to make you want to change.”

“Then why now? You and Father have been going back and forth for longer than I’ve been in the picture, what’s so different now?” She frowned at him.

“You’re kidding right?” He just shook his head and she was looking at him like he was insane. “Damian, you almost died when you and Bruce came to pull me out of that situation in Rome and that would have been my fault. I realized two things. Bruce was actually serious about wanting to marry me this time, and I would jump off Wayne Tower before I let him endanger one of you for my safety again.” That… was not what he expected. He’d been so angry with his father for going in the first place and he’d still been arguing when the guard came up behind and shot him. He’d almost died because he was more focused on telling his father why he shouldn’t be dating Selina than doing his job.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Damian didn’t know which of them was more surprised that those words left his mouth.

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#maribat #Damian Wayne #marinette dupain cheng #bffmaridami #Selina Kyle

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imagines-to-quench-thirst · 4 years

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No nut November

Imagine: in the glory of No Nut November, you make a bet with your lover saying if they fail you cuff them and use them to your liking but if you lose they get to fulfill one of their fantasies. And you are keen on it to make them lose, by any means.

Victor Creed

Accepting the challenge that is No Nut November, it's a walk in the park, after all, he did have a wager with you. So you were prepared to make him lose.

Walking into your living room dressed in a maid outfit so small enough that the skirt perfectly (barely) covers your ass when you bend over. And you use it wisely, in front of him.

-Excuse me, Mr. Creed. Just a second.

He watches your form in front of him seeing the black thong between your cheeks that peaked between getting the sensation he started to miss already.

-You want me to lose, dove?

He asks as he grins feeling his palm on his hard length trying to massage the hard-on away.

-Me, no. I'm just wearing this costume since I didn't go to the Halloween party. So this is my chance. It's not my fault you have a dirty mind.

-It's not that hard with a beautiful girl like you.

Damn!

He knew how to rile you up.

-So you forfeit? You do remember your punishment.

Victor stands up walking to you slapping your check roughly as he smirks down at you.

-Being handcuffed while you ride me isn't that much as a punishment.

Steve Rogers

For Steve, it's somewhat easy. He is always on a mission kilometers away from you. That also means when he comes back to you he is a beast... Until he accepted the bet. After a day passed since he came home he wanted to devour you.

-Ready to relinquish, captain?

You asked as you sat next to him on the couch dressed in your pajamas. You knew you didn't have to do much, he will crumble himself eventually.

-No...

He trailed off but you saw how hard he was, partially begging to take you.

-When you think about it if you lose it isn't that bad. Sure you would be handcuffed and you don't like to be submissive...

With that Steve grabs your hand yanking you to him so you sit comfortably on his dick.

-Who said I don't like to be submissive?

You kiss happily knowing that there is indeed something like a 'Submissive Captian'.

Bucky Barnes

-Doll, I have been known in my days as 'James the Champ', which meant I NEVER lost.

You turn your gaze to him watching him through the glass as you applied your red lipstick as he leaned in the door frame.

-Well, of course, but you never went head to head with me.

Bucky rolls his eyes at your testimony as you walked towards him letting your steps be slow and seductive as your hands land on his shoulders.

-That means I'll just have to go to the girl's night out without my departure gift.

Bucky licks his lips finding it hard not to fuck you before you go, your usual tradition before you or him went. Always marking each other up to know how just lucky you are that the rest of the population.

-Looks like it.

He said slowly as he felt your fingers dance along his neck waiting for your kisses just below his ears. He closes his eyes focusing his hands trying to control his animalistic behavior from jumping out and losing the bet.

-I'll be home in a few hours.

You kissed his cheek and left your shared home for the first time ever since he came back from the mission. Closing the door Bucky jumps onto the bed discarding his pants and mixer and quickly getting to work.

Ding

Bucky stops for a second as he looks at his phone a new text message form you.

A photo.

Opening the photo it's a picture of him jerking off with the title being

'When I come home you prepare for your self for the punishment.'

Loki Laufeyson

After spending almost an hour explaining Loki the No Nut November he was rather excited to try his limits. And the bet was just as sweet. He did always say that his mind is the strongest of anyone but you knew how to crack him. And now was the time.

Cooking.

Loki loved to help you cook especially when you bake a cake just for the fun of it. Taking the freshly whipped cream covered cake you dip your finger onto your slice of the cake totally forgetting the fork beside you and putting the whipped cream covered finger into your mouth letting the delicious moans be loud for Loki to hear.

Loki watched you torture him as he felt drool exiting from his open mouth.

The bet.

He needed to be strong, he is royalty they never give their power to others. Especially if they are his amazing and sexy lover.

-Delicious.

You moaned as you looked at Loki as he shakes his groaned approval.

-Yes... You are.

Giggling at his blurb you walk to him pressing your body on his.

-Ready to forfeit, my King?

Loki sighs and for a split second he nods.

-Yes. I'm yours, my love.

Thor Odinson

He loved challenges, he loved the pressure to succeed and prevail amongst other mortals that failed. And he was furthermore ready for the challenge. You were in it to make him beg for you. And you knew just about how.

-My darling, how about a kiss?

Thor asked as held you by your waist.

-I'm sorry, Thor. The bet is limited only to hugs other than that it's losing.

Thor sighs as he watched you walk away hoping that this will end soon.

-Y/n, my light, my moon... Can you bestow me kiss onto my aching lips?

Looking down at your kneeling boyfriend you laugh as you watch Tony enter.

-For fucks sakes. Thor just forfeit and get a room!

Tony screamed clearly irritated at the muscular God.

-But fellow Tony much is at stake.

-Just kiss her and get it over with. I'm tired of hearing your pending across the HQ.

-Forfeit Thor and I'm all yours.

Thor looks back at you and he nods to your words as he lands his lips on yours softly.

-Please, do go get a room!

Thor continued to kiss you as he carried you out of the living room leaving Tony to wash his eyes with soap.

Bruce Wayne

He is the man, the detective, the toughest of tough. He can endure every pain and still make it on time to a date with you. But when a wager is in he is 10 times tougher. He is in it for the end line. But you were also stubborn as him, even more. This will be fun.

-Come on, Bruce. You possibly can't endure a whole month without feeling me. And my body.

Bruce looked at you as you swayed in your dress next to him watching the crowd of shallow rich species.

-Believe me, It's hard. But knowing I beat you in a bet is all the worthwhile. Plus, I have spent years in isolation so this will be easy.

Rolling your eyes at his ruling you walk away grabbing Olivers Queen and going to the center of the ballroom, in the perfect position in front of paparazzi, rich folk and Bruce.

-Ready to waltz, Oliver?

-Yeah, let's make some magic.

The dance was magical. You and Oliver moved in unions even better with Bruce but your eyes never left Bruce's figure. As the dance ended you pull out your leg from your high slit dress placing on Oliver's hip and giving a kiss on the cheek.

-Thank you.

-Always, temptress.

Walking back to Bruce you see his eyes locking onto your body and stoic expression he wastes no time in yanking you out of the room.

-Get ready to be punished, baby girl.

-Yes, sir.

Clark Kent

Clark is a cinnamon roll, you can't deny that, but he is rough when he wants to so pulling an invisible brake on his libido is pure torture.

-You know that you can always forfeit.

You say softly hoping from him to give up since you are feeling frisky.

-I don't know. I want to but I also want to win this bet.

Kissing his cheek, almost near his lips you see the twitch in his neck as he tries to kiss you on the lips. You know just what he needs. Fuel this small fire.

-If you want to complete this bet you can do that. I'm not gonna stop you. I can always ask Bruce for some meaningless fun.

Clark sharply runs to you on his face shock.

-Or maybe Arthur, or maybe even Diana. I am feeling very much frisky.

Clark shakes his head as his hands grip your waist and pulling you on his lap as his hands roughly grip your boobs.

-You are going to regret saying Bruce's name. I'll make you forget it.

-Prove it.

Arthur Curry

Arthur is filled with happiness and he very much finds joy in making you feel amazing. So proposing the bet he was against it. He himself knew that he won't last even 3 days without touching you.

-Maybe I'll accept the bet if you add something more.

-What do you propose?

-You being in a sexy costume of my choosing for 2 days.

Arthur grins at the idea.

-Fine. But if you lose. You'll fulfill my fantasy of choosing.

Arthur nods feeling excited as he shakes your hand, starting the challenge. A days pass and you knew how much he wanted to win even going so far to sleeping on the couch. He wanted to win so bad but seeing you exit the shower as he entered he just could not look away from your marvelous body, wanting to pinch your booty and massage your tense muscles.

He started to lose his cool. It was apparent. You saw it and somehow enjoyed seeing him squirm.

-You alright, Art?

He looked at you like a hurry and horny wolf (mostly horny)

-No. Want. To. Touch. So. Bad.

He slurped like a zombie as he watched your lips wind up in a smile. So kissable.

-You can. But there are consequences.

You walk to him at an arm's length not touching him just torturing him by the small insignificance distance.

-Come on, Arthur. You can't go on like this.

He huffs like a bear as he steps closer kissing your lips with so much need you almost fell on the floor he wasn't holding you tightly.

-Fine, you win but now I get my way.

-Deal.

Orm Marius

Orm wanted to touch you it was a fact but having a challenge for him as a prince was tantalizing. He wanted to try it and he was wrong he didn't understand the power you had on him and made his task a nightmare in his words at least.

-Y/n can you not be so sensual, beloved? I'm trying my hardest.

He pleaded hoping for you to change out of his shirt into your pajamas.

-I don't see the problem. I always wear it and you love it.

-I do! That's the issue. You are enticing me.

Snickering at him you walk to him standing in front of him as he sat on his chair.

-Well, then how about you get on your knees and worship me.

Orm gulps feeling his dick hardening at your command. He loved it when you took control and he lived when he submitted to you. It was like a drug. He doesn't answer as he drops to his knees in front of you looking up hopeless.

-Yes, my goddess.

Joker

-You want to chain me?! Chain the sex machine?! Are you crazy?

-It's not an order. Just a bet. You can decline it. It thought it would be fun.

-It's on.

After that J was focused and loaded as he focused on his 'gangster' work. After countless tries of seducing him in his office in his favorite lingerie. You took a break. To gather yourself and think of a new plan.

Got it.

As the night enrolled you walked into J's club dressed in a small red dress and walking past J's private club section. Only winking at him as he discussed business with another gangster. Going straight to the bar and sitting pretty it doesn't take long from the moths to come to the flame.

-Can I buy you a drink?

Many men ask as you lean on the bar table and seeing the bartender behind you butting in.

-Gentlemen, Y/n is...

-Its okay Mark. Let them be.

Mark nods obediently handing you your drink. After a while, you see Joker walking to you pushing away the men from you.

-Scarm before I kill you here.

The men run away and you smile at your man.

-You are very clever, luring me in with other men so I get jealous and fuck you hard.

-Did it work?

-Yes, princess. Prepare for the punishment of your life.

-And you too.

Duncan Vizla

-Y/n you should know that I am trained to be tougher than the average person. This puny bet won't affect me in the slightest.

Smiling at Duncan you counter his statement.

-I know but when people are told something they tend to the opposite. Something like the apple in the Garden.

-Are you pulling Biblical reference to get me on board with the bet?

-Maybe?

-Deal.

After that deal, you made sure he saw you every second. If he was in the kitchen you were there to help, if he was in the bathroom you needed an 'urgent bath'. When he sat in his leather chair you purposefully bend down to pick up anything that fell, accidentally. Even when sleeping. You were purposefully sleep talking small words that he wanted to hear.

-More Duncan... Faster... I'm yours... Mark me...

He was a tough nut to crack but it will be worthwhile. Just a little more. A few days passed being completely impressed by Duncan's steel will. As you walked into the house you see Duncan cooking his eyes looking solely one the scrambled eggs.

-You good, Duncan?

You ask as you watch Duncan turn to you pulling himself to you like on a string.

-In a way. A HARD way.

Moving your gaze down you see Duncan hard-on poking out of his pants.

-Need help with that?

You ask hoping for Duncan to nod and fuck you right here in the kitchen. Of course, as you tried to seduce Duncan and being left empty-handed was also hard on you leaving you wet and wanting more of his distant touch.

-Time is passing Mr. Vizla and your problem is still here. You know how it can be solved.

Duncan smiles viciously as he pushes you against the fridge. His rough lips smacking against yours as your ears pick up the calling of his belt.

-You are in a ride, prepare yourself Y/n.

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thebrownssociety · 3 years

Text

Across The Serververse, Part 12

“Why do I have the feeling I know where this going?” Penelope asked, with a smile.

Porky scoffed and held his hands in the air. “Y-y-you probably do, but I think there’s at least one twist you won’t see coming.”

“Try me.” Penelope said.

Porky folded his arms and said, dryly. “Batman?”

There was a beat and then Penelope nodded. “Fair enough. Well go on then, we ARE on a time limit and we’re all tired.”

“Ch-cha-charming.” Porky grinned. “Anyway, so yeah. Daffy’s ‘brilliant idea...”

*High above DC Town Centre, in the main seat of a train*

“Alright P.I.G!” Daffy eyes were gleaming and he was shaking noticeably.

Bugs, seeing this, looked concerned. Daffy didn’t usually start shaking and acting like that unless he was about to switch personas and if he switched from his current new 10′s persona to goodness-knows-what-next Bugs didn’t know if DC World could handle it.

Porky must have been thinking the same thing because his voice was decidedly worried when he asked. “D-d-daffy are you alright?”

“Absolutely fine Porky my good pig!” Daffy exclaimed. “Now-” He spun around and transformed into a Yzma-esque dress complete with ridiculous hat and eyeliner. “-Pull the lever, Porky!”

The pig looked at the unassuming level and, clasping a hand over his eyes, apologised and pulled said lever. The entire train jerked into action and started ambling along the track.

Porky removed his hand from his eyes and looked around with a look of relief. “T-t-that wasn’t so b-b-bad.” He said, to himself.

Daffy tapped his fingers against the window impatiently and snapped. “For Avery’s sake, what isth thisth? The Granny-Train? We’ll never be able to save all these people-” here he jerked his finger over his shoulder at the passengers who were enjoying the leisurely journey. “-If we don’t get any fasther than 5 miles an hour! Gimme that!” And - without any warning - the duck darted forwards and yanked the lever further down. Unfortunately - seeing as Porky had already pilled the lever - all this resulted in was the lever snapping off and making it impossible to slow the train down.

Daffy whooped while Porky panicked and started pressing buttons trying to stop the train. In the carriages behind the people started screaming as the train gained ground.

“Watch me save the day!” Daffy yelled as he opened the window and stuck his head out the train.

Having known Daffy for 80+ years at this point Porky knew instantly what the mad duck was planning to do and screamed at him to ‘G-g-get in and shut that [Beap!] window, you Idiot!”

Daffy laughed hysterically and blew a kiss at Porky before swinging out the window completely.

Porky hollered after him but then the train lunged violently to one side, by now going to fast for anyone to really take control of it. Porky was forced to give up on Daffy and tried to focus on somehow slowing the train down. Just as he was frantically searching through his hammerspace for an anchor on a rope that he could hurl out the train window the entire thing came to a sudden and violent stop.

Porky was thrown forwards, whacking his head against the controls as he did so. Being a Looney Tune and well-used to having his head whacked against various things, however, he was uninjured and managed to quickly get his senses about him and stick his own head out the window to see what had happened.

Superman. Superman had happened. He was in front of the train, bearing all it’s weight on his arms without even breaking a sweat. Porky widened his eyes in amazement, he liked seeing the superhero’s doing there thing up close. It was awesome.

It took some manoeuvring but eventually Superman had the passengers on the ground and had managed to secure the train so it was no longer a danger.

Porky was amused to see that the passengers were clearly used to this kind of disruption because when they got to the ground the majority of them didn’t seem at all traumatised or even slightly shaken and instead just walked off to carry on with their day.

Shaking his head he turned to Superman and asked where Daffy was.

“I managed to catch him as he fell out the window.” The hero explained. “I was a bit preoccupied with the train so I handed him to millionaire playboy Bruce Wayne - you’ve heard of him?”

Porky nodded.

Superman gave a sharp nod and explained he’d be able to take Porky to Daffy as soon as he’d finished with the ‘damage control’ element of a ‘major incident’. Then the scene faded to white.

*Next scene opens up on the outside of Wayne Mansion. Porky and Superman are walking up to the front door*

Superman rang the doorbell [it was much to high for Porky to reach] and Bruce Wayne opened it.

"Good afternoon, Mr Wayne." Superman said, clearly pretending he didn't know Mr Wayne personally. "I think I handed you a small black duck this morning? Is he here? Only this is his friend-"

"B-b-brother." Porky corrected.

“-Brother - sorry - Porky Pig. From Looney Tunes.” Here a significant look passed between Superman and Bruce Wayne.

Wayne nodded and opened the door fully. “You better come in then.” He said, in his usual gruff manner.

The first thing Porky and Superman saw when they got in was Albert carrying four trays of junk food in his arms and hurrying towards the kitchen.

“You alright, Albert?” Wayne asked, the gruffness slipping for a moment.

“Perfectly fine, Master Bruce.” Albert said, although the bags under his eyes suggested the words were a lie.

Bruce clearly saw through this because he asked, carefully. “Are you sure, Albert?”

Albert gave a tight smile and said. “Let’s just say the young Master Duck has a rather large appetite.” And with that he swooped off into the kitchen.

Porky cast his eyes up to the heavens and followed the butler through to the kitchen where an absolutely massive Daffy was sat on the table [the chairs being unable to support him] eating food happily of off plates.

The older and more responsible toon put his hands on his hips and snapped. “D-d-daffy Dumas Duck! Wh-wha-what the hell do you th-thi-think you’re d-d- playing at!?”

Daffy’s eyes lit up and he waved cheerfully at his brother. “Porksther! Good ta sthee you! Here, this food isth good, siddown!”

A close-up of Porky’s face confirmed what Bugs was thinking. Daffy had shifted personas from his new 10′s one, which he’d been in before the whole ‘Al.G.Rhythm’ thing, to his 40′s persona - and the forty’s persona was a bit of a nightmare too deal with.

“L-l-leave it to me.” Porky told both Superman and Wayne before the flashback faded away.

“So?” Bugs asked. “What happened?”

Porky explained that Bruce Wayne had very nicely put them up in his manor for the entire time they’d been there and had been quite nice to them and as Porky and Daffy already knew about his alter-ego they’d been no issues in that department. Well. Aside from the odd occasion when someone had broken into the manor and/or attempted to kidnap them.

“We were fine.” The pig clarified, hurriedly. “D-d-daffy jumped on their head and they soon stopped.”

“I’m not suwpwised.” Tweety muttered.

“A-a-anyway, the long and the short of it is that the Justice League lot have spent the l-l-last couple of months tying to find a way to send us back. Eventually they managed to build a portal. It was s-s-something of a group effort. Even a few of the villains helped out after Batman threatened them with shutting down Arkham.”

Then, it transpired, that when they got back Daffy had had a breakdown, unable to take in that he was in his home world and his mind just snapped. He leapt around the place going ‘woo-woo!’ until Scratchy was called for and managed to stick a needle in him which sent him to sleep for about 24 hours,

“And dat was when?” Bugs asked.

Porky checked his watch. “...5 and a half hours ago. He might wake up b-b-before 24 hours, but Scratchy says that’s the maximum.”

There wasn’t really much to say after that and the LT’s just drifted off to there respective houses for a bit of much-needed rest and relaxation.

#Space Jam 2 Fanfiction #Across The Serververse #daffy duck #Porky Pig #Superman #penelope pussycat #Tweety Bird #Duck Awesome #Notorious PIG #Notorious P.I.G #Albert Pennyworth

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primeemeraldheiress · 4 years

Note

So like, what if Slade found a malnourished baby jay before Batman did?

I’ve actually had thoughts about this for several months but I heard some rumblings about someone writing a Slade-raises-Jay fic and dropped the idea. Haven’t heard anything about it in a long time though and I’m pretty sure this was in a different direction.

Headcanon Ramble

So Slade takes jobs in Gotham. Not often but occasionally. He makes a contact once. Man named Willis Todd. The man obviously doesn’t know what his information is actually worth because he doesn’t ask for much. Doesn’t ask for what he should. As he’s leaving the building, he nearly trips over a kid. Small. Too small. He can tell in a glance that the boy’s older than he looks. Malnourished. Whatever. Not his business.

But the kid stops him.

“My dad’s lying to you.” The kid tells him, his bright blue eyes piercing right through the mercenary. It pulls him up short. What’s the brat mean? “It’s a trap. I heard him talking about it to his dickhead friends. They wanna kill you and take your stuff.”

“What your language, kid.” Slade stares at him, watching his body language. Trying to see if he’s lying but he’s not. “Thanks. I’ll keep an eye out.”

The kid shrugs and the neck of his too-large shirt falls off his shoulder showing lurid purple bruising. He jerks it up again absentmindedly. Slade feels anger stir in his belly at the sight.

“Whatever. No skin off my back.”

Gods, I am so bad at not turning these headcanons into snippets of fic.

Anyway, it’s not like these assholes are going to be any real challenge to Deathstroke, right? They think they’re dealing with some regular guy. So Willis + Gang nearly shit themselves when they see orange and black instead at the meeting point. They try to back out. Try to apologize and give him the information he actually wants but Deathstroke has no mercy. No one makes it out alive.

The next day, Slade spots the kid in the Alley again looking just a little bit happier. He smiles when he sees the mercenary and even more when Slade slips him a couple hundred. “For the accurate information.”

Something lights in the kid’s eyes at that and he nods.

Maybe a year later and he’s back in the Alley. He’s there a few days before he spots a familiar face, running around and picking through trash bins.

“Kid.” The boy almost bolts when he sees Slade but recognizes him in time. He nods instead. “Anything I need to know?” Slade asks, eyes raking over the kid. He’s… he’s not looking great. The boy’s dirty. Maybe a few weeks without a shower. Clothes are starting to wear thin. He’s holding half a burger in his hand. A sneaking suspicion blooms in the back of his mind.

But the kid talks. Tells him about the layout of the gangs in the alley. The guys looking for work. The places where the Bat is patrolling and the places the Bat is avoiding. The boy is, frankly, a wealth of information and Slade wonders why he never thought to use local homeless street kids as informants before. He slips him a few bills and before he can scurry off, asks him his name.

Hesitation. Then, “Call me Red.” Yeah, and his name was Bruce Wayne. But whatever. “No skin off my back, kid.”

He keeps hunting down Red to check on him for more information and is gratified to see the kid at least found a shower and some better clothes with the money he gave him. When the job’s over, he hesitates… only a bit. He makes an excuse, some dumbass bullshit and gets a skeptical look in response but Red tells him what he asked for. He pays and leaves Gotham again.

He makes it a point to take a few more contracts in the Jersey area, swinging through the Alley. Calling himself every flavor of stupid as he does so. Every time he has to hunt Red down but every time he finds him. He always finds him a little bit worse off than he started the last time.

Another year passes and Slade blows into Gotham again. This time, when he finds Red, he sees red.

At the hooker’s corner, the kid leans on the door of a BMW. Clothing tight and short, and far too old for the child that he was. In an instant, Slade’s beside him, growling at the John and pulling the kid away.

“You can’t just–What are you doing?!” The boy squawks and jerks out of the mercenary’s grip. “I gotta fucking eat, Slade!”

“What happens?” He growls, “What happens to the money I give you? Where does it go? What drives you to this?”

“For fuck’s sake, old man, where do you think it goes?” Red rubs his arm. “The gangs take their cut. Protection, they say. I gotta pay if I don’t wanna wind up dead in the Sprang. Sometimes I gotta pay Cops not to take me in for vagrancy. After that, if I’m lucky, I got enough to eat for a week. Maybe two. I gotta live.”

Well, Slade’s not having that. When he leaves the city, he leaves with Red… with Jason. And he’ll listen to Joey and Rose and Wintergreen all call him the 32 flavors of idiot he knows he is but he’s not leaving the kid in the Alley again. He can’t.

#Emerald Ask #Emerald Headcanon #Jason Todd #Slade Wilson #Deathstroke #AU #CW: Child Prostitution #CW: Child Abuse #Anon #Different Origin #Adoption

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black-streak · 4 years

Text

Waiting for the Worms - Don't Leave Me Now

Part 20

So funny thing, I had this chapter 90% finished at the beginning of last weekend and planned on having it out by then. Instead I got horrifically sick AGAIN. I hate January through February. I either stay consistently sick or contract acute bronchitis. There are no exceptions.

Anyways, there's probably only four chapters left of this story, if that. So hopefully I'll get those out faster without so many pauses between. As always, thank you for your patience and support.

CLOSED LIST of ridiculously nice and patient people: @northernbluetongue @thethirdwheelfriend @shizukiryuu @theatreandcomicfreak @michellemagic @karategirl119 @moonlightstar64 @my-name-is-michell @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @queen-of-the-trash-planet-tm @miraculousdisapointment @dorkus-minimus @jardimazul @allthebooksandcrannies @g-arya @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @persephonescat @mycupisbroken @luciferge @18-fandoms-unite-08 @dawnwave16 @alwaysreblogneverpost @kris-pines04 @emjrabbitwolf @mysteriouslyswimmingfan-blo-blog @weird-pale-blonde-person @you-will-never-know-how-i-think @kokotaru @naclychilli @slytherinhquinn @clumsy-owl-4178 @ladybug-182 @darkthunder1589 @evil-elf16 @dast218 @lysslovsanime @emilytopaz @naoryllis @iloontjeboontje @thepeacetea @danielslilangel @finallyaniguana @i-like-fairytail-and-stuff @vixen-uchiha @yuulxd @bleeding-heart-romantic @magic-inthe-stars @st0rmy-w1th1n

~---~

Barbara knocked on their door at eleven on the dot, rolling in and immediately greeting Tim, who laid across the couch where he'd spent the night until they could find a more permanent sleeping situation. Jason stood frozen in the doorway to the bedroom, barely registering as Mari came up behind him from the bathroom only to stop dead as well.

"Hey Jay. Been a while, hasn't it?" Babs spoke with a strained smile, tears glittering in the corners of her eyes.

He saw Tim dart his eyes back and forth between the two before a startled expression stretched across his features, turning back towards him and Mari, the latter gripping tightly to the back of his shirt, "You were gone before the incident."

"What incident?" Mari growled out behind him, hands clawing at his back in agitation until his hand reached back for her own, in which she immediately adjusted to hold on.

"The Joker. He captured me not long after you died. I hear someone took care of that though?" She rolled closer from her wheelchair, and wasn't Jason just so grateful his soulmate chose an accessible complex. Exhaling a shaky breath, he moved forward to give her a hug.

"Yeah. Yeah, he's gone now."

…

The four of them sat together for an hour, discussing what had happened to them all, Tim staying mostly quiet about his own past, but cutting in to help Barbara along with her story at times. Damian stayed away in his room, tuckered out socially from the last few days and deciding today would be dedicated to drawing in his room away from prying eyes. Occasionally he ventured out to get a drink or check on them, but otherwise kept away.

As time seemed to pass and Babs reacquainted herself to the two, finally understanding why Alfred use to treat Jason like two seperate people at times, the boy to Jason's left slowly seem to slouch in his seat. Apparently the ease in which they interacted with someone he trusted helped them into the teen's better graces. When the teen came to rest on folded arms and fell into a doze, he considered this an appropriate time to ask, "How often does he get sleep? I know for a fact he didn't get any last night."

"He's a work in progress on the sleep front. Never had anyone to force a sleep schedule on him so he's been awake most nights."

"You mean?" Mari asked.

"Absentee parents. Gone now, but just not present when he was growing up. Between the neglect and lack of praise, he's got a bit of a complex. Stays up even more since he's been with Bruce."

"I wonder how much he'd hate being kept to a more rigorous schedule," Mari wondered.

"Well, it couldn't hurt to try. You seem pretty good at using logic to force him into seeing your way and with how he's been acting since we found him, that's likely what he'll respond to," he stood up and made his way closer to the sleeping figure, "I'm going to lay him up in our bed, hopefully he'll take a while to wake up."

With that, he wrapped tucked an arm under legs and tilted Tim carefully into his chest in a bridal carry. The second he lifted, the teen jerked awake, attempting to escape his hold that had tightened to keep him steady.

"Yo, Tim, knock it off," he half growled as he avoided another flailed limb only to relax when the smaller one went still, eyes training on him.

"What… Why are you carrying me?"

"You fell asleep on the table. Just getting you somewhere more comfy. Relax birdy, I'll set you down in a second," Jason relayed, continuing into the main bedroom, ignoring the watchful look from behind as he sat Tim down into the bed, "Just go back to sleep, we'll wake you up to say goodbye to Babs before she leaves," he called over his shoulder, leaving the door open behind him so that the cautious Robin could keep track of them and listen in enough to calm once more.

"You're taking this a lot better than I would expect," Barbara commented as he rejoined them around the counter.

"Which part?"

"Being replaced."

"I wouldn't say we took it well, per say. We did go after Bruce a little and launch him across the sky," Mari cut in quietly, sipping from her mug.

"Well yeah, there's that," she chuckled, "but I was speaking more towards your reaction towards Tim specifically."

"It's not like it's his fault Bruce doesn't know when enough is enough. I get that Tim sought the position himself, but that doesn't take the responsibility off of Bruce's shoulders. I'm not going to hold that over his head, especially considering he was, what, twelve? Thirteen when he became Robin? Just a kid. I doubt his intentions were so dark as to want to replace a dead boy."

"Thirteen, yeah. He's fifteen now, but he seems so much older and yet so much younger at times. It's strange," Babs responded, looking towards where she knew Tim lay awake, listening.

"We were all forced to grow up too fast. It's insane to think we're only two years older than him. I feel ancient and yet he looks so young."

"You still look young yourself."

"Oh shut up, you know what I meant."

"What do you plan to do with him?" Babs asked carefully, looking towards Mari more than himself.

"Nothing," he responded for her.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing," he offered a small grimace, "If he'd like to stay with us, we'll take him in, but that's up to him. We're not going to push him to do something just because we deem it the right thing to do."

"Hmm, I'm sure he'll appreciate that."

Out of his peripheral, he took satisfaction at seeing Tim finally settle fully into the bed, slowly drifting back to sleep.

…

Three nights passed when Tim overstepped an unknown boundary. In hindsight, it should have been obvious, if not expected to happen. The innocence in the act only made it all the worse for those involved.

Everyone knew Tim never slept proper hours. The other occupants, however, tried to keep relatively normal hours if only for the sake of the youngest, who needed a consistent schedule. Tim assumed the others to sleep lightly if at all, considering all of their pasts. In a way, they proved him right.

Marinette heard a whisper in the night, pulling her from her slumber and into full, rigid consciousness. That was not Damian.

It ghosted softly across the floor, picking its way over to her side where she could almost feel the soft breath it released near to her face. Had it not been for her training, the sounds and air pressure change would never even occur to her. As it was, she felt her muscles coil tight as a spring, keeping everything still so as not to give herself away. When the hand descended towards her shoulder, she grabbed the thin wrist and twisted it down, forcing the body to kneel bedside with the captured arm atop the bed as she launched herself behind him and yanked a dagger from under her pillow tight across his throat, not enough to cut, but enough to get the warning across.

Move and you die.

The person cleared their throat a few times and called up tentatively to her bedmate, who sat up the moment they moved, "Jason?"

Jason jumped up immediately and gripped large, callused hands about her shoulders, ducking his lips near her ear, "Mari? Bit of a hostile hold you got on Tim there. Mind loosening it up?"

Snapping into focus once more, she took in her captive, seeing the thin frame and silky black locks, the slight fearful tinge to icy blues. Marinette couldn't help but scramble back into Jason's arms, dropping the dagger and kicking it across the room. Tim turned slowly, eyes meeting her own in a wary stare.

"I'm so sorry, Tim, I didn't even recognize you and I- that's. That's no excuse. I'm so very sorry I hurt you, you don't deserve to deal with that," she felt her body shake, eyes watering in the corners as she felt arms tighten around her.

"Are you okay? Did you need something?" Jason inquired in a deep soothing voice, eyes trained on the teen before them.

"I'm fine. It was nothing, I'll leave you be. Sorry I came in without permission," he stated calmly, ice blues not betraying anything.

"It's alright. If you need something at night, approach me, yeah? Less jumpy."

His eyes flashed before her with something, maybe surprise, before shutting off again, "of course. I'm going to move now," Tim directed at her, making her flinch, but nod slightly.

He picked his way around the edge of the room, closing the door behind him. Marinette slumped into Jason's chest, "I fucked up, didn't I?"

"Not your fault, buttercup. It'll probably be a set back, but there's not a thing you could do bout your gut instincts."

The next morning, Tim was gone.

…

A week passed before he reappeared.

They heard from Barbara that he stayed at her place for a few of the days, traveling on others, but never returned to the Manor. When he showed up, his lips gave a sheepish little smile, eyes squinting ever so slightly and shoulders tense as Damian answered the door for him.

"Ugh, the stray is back," Damian stared up at him, narrow eyed at the boy who upset his Mari. When Tim didn't move, the kid's lip curled up, "Well get in already," he prompted, watching Tim enter and closing the door behind him.

Marinette kept quiet as Jason and her prepared dinner, exchanging glances and coming to a decision wirelessly as they placed down a fourth plate. When they all sat about the table, Tim hesitated by his chair, a confused twist to his lips.

"You don't have to eat if you're not hungry, but I would like if you sat with us," Marinette addressed him, with enough reassurance on her voice and apology in her eyes to convince him to sit down and tuck in to the meal they set before him. As the other three talked, listening whenever he decided to speak up or moving on when he seemed uncomfortable with a topic, they watched as Tim's shoulders slowly relaxed, forearms no longer pressing into the table, fists delicately cradling his fork instead of in fists around the metal. Marinette couldn't be sure what changed his mind and made him come back, but Jason had a hunch.

Dinner ended with Tim asking to stay the night. One night turned into many.

…

On his fourth night, Marinette and Jason woke to the sounds of hushed voices outside their door.

"Don't go in, she won't recognize you in sleep. It's dangerous."

"Of course she is dangerous in her sleep. She was trained to assume any approaching unknown is set to attack and kill. She will not attack me. Let go."

"She didn't even recognize me, you're going to get yourself killed."

"Did you go to her before in her room? Make yourself familiar at a time she wasn't sleeping?"

There was silence for a long while, until finally a hushed response, "Her subconscious mind sees me as an unknown. I haven't really leaned one way or the other to them while awake either. Of course neither of them would take well to me coming into their sanctuary while they're vulnerable. You're their kid, I'm just a flighty presence until I tell them otherwise."

At this point, Damian opened the door, casting a look back at Tim as he walked up to her and climbed up between the two and snuggling into her waiting arms.

She met eyes with Tim over Damian's head, sure that Jason was doing the same. The teen had a contemplative look, before pained understanding dawned upon his features. He nodded to them and closed the door. They could hear him shuffle back over to the couch, settling down into it.

Soon.

Whether anyone was ready for it or not, Tim would make his decision soon, and they all knew it.

#maribat #jasonette #ml x dc #WFTW #part 20 #almost not sick #hopefully it lasts #sorry this is late #kind of all over the place

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itzagothamcitysiren · 4 years

Text

Welcome to the Family

So this chapter was a little harder to write. Its pretty action based and I’m still learning how to write stuff like that with it making sense lol. Hopefully this is as entertaining and good(?lol?) as the previous chapters lol.

Never Wanted to be Here Now pt. 6

The breath that found itself hitched in the back of Halley’s throat refused to release as she looked between her father and Dick. Her eyes eventually settled back to stare at the cold metal her father pressed against Jason’s head. Sure, the two didn’t get along, but she didn’t want to be the one responsible for his death. She felt a wave of relief when she saw that Dick was on the same page as her, standing a few steps before her. It faded quickly as the sudden hope appeared when her father spoke again,

“You have no idea how much it pains me to see you standing with him. You have no idea.” Her hands felt like they had pins and needles as she clenched and unclenched them, biting the inside of her check. Slade put his finger on the trigger, leaning in to rest his chin on the top of Jason’s head, “If you only knew what the Titans really were, you might not be acting like an ignorant child.”

Halley wanted to question what he meant but she was too afraid to speak. She’d grown into the habit of feeling safe speaking her mind but with Dick, not her father. She looked to Dick, seeing him visibly tense as her father spoke. She knew there was a reason why her father always hated the Titans but she never dared to ask. But the venom in his tone, the look he was now shooting Dick, told her that she was missing out on something big and she wanted to know. Looking at her father again, she found her voice, “Tell me then, help me understand why you hate them so much!”

Deathstroke chuckled, grasping Jason tighter. Before practically spitting as he snarled at Dick, “Why don’t you ask him? What do you say Grayson? Why don’t you tell her what you and your band of hero’s did? Ask him about Jericho.”

Dick let his shoulders slump forward. He had no way out of this situation and if there even was one, his mind was too clouded to see it. He turned to face the young girl he grew to care so much for, already knowing that this wasn’t going to end well. Dick had tried too hard to make up for his past sins and he thought helping her would be his clean slate but inside he just created even more of a mess. Now another innocent kid was going to pay for his mistakes. No wonder Bruce replaced him so quickly.

“Before we met,” Dick started, licking his lips. He ignored Deathstroke’s victorious look plastered on his face; he knew he was going to win. Dick could only hope that her time with them gave some chance of changing her and she wouldn’t go back to her father once she found out what the Titans did all those years ago. “Deathstroke was hired to kill one of the Titans and he succeeded. We wanted revenge. I-I began researching him; found out he had a family. A wife and a son.”

“Whaa-at?” Halley gasped, never hearing about any of this before. She glared up at her father, her nostril’s flaring. She didn’t remember going on a mission to kill a Titan, not a paid mission anyway. There were sometimes when he would go off on his own and leave her alone for some time. Sometimes he’d go for months on end or somethings just a couple of days. He’d leave her with his friend Wintergreen. She knew he’d take jobs without her during these times but it could be very well that he had been off as well with this supposed family of his. Running her a hand through her messy hair, she spoke again, “What is he talking about?”

Deathstroke stared at her without a response before prompting Grayson to continue, wanting to shift her anger and betrayal at him. Dick looked at her in pity, before shaking his head. He wasn’t going to do this to her, not here. He turned to Deathstroke, turning his hands into fists.

“You can just kill me. That’s what you want, we’re not doing this.” He said firmly, clamping his jaw.

“Coward,” Deathstroke laughed. “You see this, daughter? He can’t even tell you the truth. You think he cares about you but he couldn’t even tell you how he’s the reason why your brother is dead.”

“I did it to protect you,” he said, turning back to look at her with pleading eyes. “I was going to tell you when I thought you were ready. You were still healing, still adjusting.”

Halley looked in between the two, not knowing who to listen to or to even just look at. Her heart was pumping and could only chalk this all up as being a very bad, bad dream. She just wanted to close her eyes and wake up but the pain she felt in her chest told her that it’d just be a waste. This wasn’t a dream. She was angry and hurt towards both of them. They were both liars. Her father was many things but he never lied to her. And Dick? Dick was the last person she’d ever think would lie to her.

Sighing, she thought about how he did actually just lie to her about the team’s mission to go after her father. But that was different, he had just did that to protect her. Like how he just said he didn’t tell her about whatever this was in order to protect her. He introduced her to the man who is basically his father and gave her a home. She squinted at Dick, her face unreadable to him as she thought about the lengths he went to try and avoid this from even happening. He kept her in the dark about what sparked his and Deathstroke’s feud, sure. But he did it because he cared and he’s proven time and time again that he did in fact care for her. What the fuck was her father’s excuse?

Her eyes flickered to the ground. Her sight landed on her father’s fallen gun from when Dick disarmed him moments ago. Without warning she jumped for it, grabbing the gun. Cocking it, she aimed at her father, her stance steady and stern. Dick took a step towards her, not wanting her to take a shot. He didn’t want her to do it for her own sake but he didn’t want the situation to escalate with Jason still in Deathstroke’s hands.

She saw Dick move and quickly switch her target, pointing the gun at him. He raised his hands up, taking a step back again, “Halley-,”

“No, you shut up.” She ordered, jerking the gun forward for emphasis. Turning her head to her father she now brought her attention to him, “Let Todd go and I’ll shot Grayson.”

“No one gives payment until the job they want is done.” Her father smirked, scoffing. Her care for the boy in his grasps was sickening but somewhat enduring.

“Not this time.” She said firmly and her father felt like he was once again talking to the girl he once trained. “Let him go and I swear I’ll do it. Out of everyone in this room, I’m the only one who isn’t a fuckin liar.”

Deathstroke grinned, putting the gun back in its holster and shoving Jason away from him. He crossed his arms against his chest when the boy landed onto the ground. He looked up as Halley turned to face Dick, who still had his hands up but now wore a look of dread. He didn’t want to lose her to this but he also didn’t want to test her by talking again. But he had to defuse the situation.

“You don’t have to do this; you don’t work for him anymore.” His face pleaded with her along with his soft voice.

Halley just tightened her grip on the gun putting her finger on the trigger. Without giving her a chance to back out she pulled the trigger. The sound of Jason’s voice screaming out at her was almost muted by the cracking sound of the bullet leaving the barrel. Dick had no time to react, face frozen as the bullet flew right past his head. She missed.

“Opps, stupid me. Let me try again,” She spat, rapidly jerking her body towards her father now opening fire on him.

Deathstroke jolted backwards, the bullets impeding themselves in his armor. Dick used the distraction to get to Jason. Picking the boy up in his arms, he threw them behind a set of boxes for cover. He checked over his wound, ordering him to stay put as he put pressure on it. Jason was losing too much blood. As Dick fussed over him, Jason peered around the box, eyes wide in amazement as he watched the fight ensue in front of them.

Halley howled in rage, dodging and jumping out of the way of her father’s bullets, making her way closer and closer to him. She let out another shot, pulling the trigger and only hearing a click. Being out of bullets didn’t stop her though. Without a hesitation, she chucked the gun at him, smacking him dead in the face. He stumbled back, disorientated and giving her the chance to reach him. He felt proud when she reached for another one of his knives that was strapped on him.

“Was she my mother?” Halley spat, ducking out of the way of a punch.

Slade knew she was asking about his wife, the one that Nightwing barely mentioned. He had a look of amusement, taking a step forward. Grabbing her head, he brought his knee up to her face. Still holding onto her he let his fist hit her in the gut again before shoving her stumbling backwards.

“No.” Was all his said, his voice monotone.

Grunting, using the back of her hand to wipe the blood gushing out of her nose, Halley gripped the knife in her hand tighter before jutting forward. “Who’s my mother than? You say Nightwing is a coward; how he can’t tell me anything but either can you!” She spat in-between jabs.

Needing to teach her a lesson in obedience, he aimed his gun at her knees but her reaction time impressed him. His arm was pushed up just as he took the shot. As the bullet landed past them somewhere, he barred his teeth, “You don’t deserve to know. You haven’t proven you’re ready to meet her yet and if you keep this tantrum up you never will!”

Not liking his answer Halley used the hand grasping his wrist and twisted it, hearing a satisfying snap. Her father made a disgruntled sound before being forced to drop the gun. She kicked it away, using her other hand to dig the knife she held into the part of his forearm that wasn’t covered by armor. She kept pressing it in deeper and deeper, her father’s cries sounding like music to her ears.

“I’ll never be good enough for you!” She snarled, enthralled by his pain. “No matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried to please you! I was never good enough!” She was going to kill him and she couldn’t wait.

All the years of torment and pain. All the years of being told she wasn’t enough. All the years he took away from her having a semblance of a normal life would be made up for in one moment. She took out the knife, swiping towards his neck as she did. Before the blade could reach skin, he used his good hand to entangle a hand in her hair, gripping tight. He always went for that, she cursed.

Even with his wrist broken from her he used it to slap the knife out of her hand. Ripping her back, she could only allow him to move her around like a puppeteer. He raised a leg up, landing a hard kick on her chest.

“Ungrateful child,” he sneered at her.

She quickly got her footing, standing up straight with her hands clenched into fists at her side. She didn’t know what possessed her to do it. There were at least a hundred other moves she could’ve used as an attack but they didn’t seem as satisfying. Hacking back, she spat at him, smiling when she saw the mixture of spit and blood slap him against his face. She didn’t regret it, even when he wiped it away with a truly fighting look in his eyes.

With an oof, she then hit the floor and was pinned there by a heavy boot on her neck. Gasping for air, she clawed at his ankle but he shifted his weight forward. He watched her eyes start to turn hazy from the panic and lack of oxygen. He looked up to where Dick had been hiding, seeing the idiot start to stand.

“Let a father teach his daughter a lesson in respect.” He turned back to his daughter. “You are in no condition to fight, Grayson.”

“Hasn’t stopped me before,” Nightwing winced, trying to keep up the charm he was known for. He took a step forward, ready to get back at it but jumped at the sound of broken glass. Looking up he smirked, “Bout damn time.”

Deathstroke looked up at the intruder from above. Batman landed gracefully but fiercely in front of the Wilsons. His eyes bore down at the girl who was clearly struggling to breathe. Back up to the father, Batman’s eyes still stood their normal stoic self’s but behind them held a look of pity and animosity. His stance didn’t falter when the assassin released his step on his daughter and began to circle the bat.

“That was quite an entrance,” Deathstroke taunted, holstering his gun and reaching for his sword again. “It mustn’t be that great for the knees though, I can imagine.” Deathstroke figured that Batman would show up eventually but he had at least hoped to be on schedule and one of the bat brats would be dead by now. No matter, he’d kill them all.

The pair engaged in battle, Batman shouting for Nightwing to get the two teenagers out of the warehouse and to the bat mobile. He didn’t have to tell Dick twice as he helped Jason stand, slinging an arm underneath his armpit and around his back to help him walk. Hurriedly, he made his way to the clearly distraught girl who was already reaching was her father’s discarded gun. Dick put his foot on it as she was about to grasp it. She shot him up a glare.

“You aren’t a killer. Not anymore.” He told her holding out his hand for her to take. “Let’s go home.”

She swatted his hand away, pushing his foot off the gun but failed when he pushed down on it harder. She stood up and pushed his chest. “I’m going to kill him!”

“No, you aren’t.” It was Jason this time that spoke. Halley and Dick were taken aback, looking at him, the sound of Deathstroke and Batman clashing behind them echoing over his voice. “That’s what he wants you to do and last time I checked you didn’t want to be his little minion anymore. You’re better than him.”

Halley faltered, looking at her father as Batman dealt a harsh punch to his face. She looked back at Jason, “But he has to pay-,”

“You’re such a fuckin’ dork.” Jason shook his head, the blood lose finally getting to him as he began to get dizzy. “Batman’s literally here to save you and you’re going to go try and kill someone? Around here that’s how you end up in prison or Arkham.”

A soft smile reached her face but before she could respond, Batman let out a painful grunt. He stood a few feet away from Deathstroke, the assassin using him as if he was a wall to kick off of. Batman stood watching and waiting for his next move, watching as Wilson reached into one of his pouches on his belt. Pulling out a small device, he smirked up at the vigilantes and his daughter. Without a word he clicked a button.

“You have a choice to make.” He said to his daughter, showing off the clock on the device that was now displaying a countdown. He had rigged this place to blow as a last resort. “Are you coming or are you staying?”

“Is that really even a question?” She spat.

Deathstroke nodded, with a twisted smile and shake of his head. What a disappointment she turned out to be. Looking up, he spoke to Batman now, “You can keep her; take your little birds, we’re done here.”

Batman watched as he backed up, moving to leave them. He thought about going back take him down but decided against it. Jason and Dick needed medical attention. And the building was also about to blow. He nodded towards Dick, before leading them towards an entrance he had scoped out before coming in from above. He passed Halley, noting the girl watching after her father as he disappeared into the shadows. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Let’s go home.”

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd x oc #red hood #red hood x oc #dick grayson #dick grayson x sister!reader #dick grayson x oc #nightwing #nightwing x reader #batman fanfiction #batman #deathstroke daughter #deathstroke x reader #dc comics fanfic #batfam x reader #batbros

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paperwayne · 4 years

Text

steady.

50 Wordless Ways to Say “I Love You” ➡ 1. Holding their hands when they are shaking.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Word Count: 2,450 words

Warnings: None

You’ve known Jason Todd long enough to know how sticky his fingers can be. It’s a talent, really, something to be admired in the slums of Gotham; an apple here, a wallet there, and more recently, tires right off of cars.

Stealing isn’t wrong if you’re trying to survive. But sometimes, you can’t resist doing it out of pleasure rather than necessity.

Jason’s hand is clean and warm as it curls firmly around your wrist �� a habit that has now become a signal, back when you had been loose-lipped and jumpy whenever the two of you walked past the cashiers at stores – and you tear your gaze away from the crude caricature of Batman you had been scribbling onto an Etch A Sketch you had found, blinking as your friend glances at your artwork.

“Funny,” he compliments, and you crack a smile before he jerks his head slightly toward the exit. “C’mon, let’s go.”

You give the gummy Etch A Sketch a few vigorous shakes and slide it back onto the dusty shelf from whence it came. As you and Jason make your way to the door, the old man at the register stares suspiciously. You smile at him, innocent in your youth.

The door is just about to close completely before it swings open again, but by then you had crossed the street.

“You little brats, get back here!”

Jason’s grip on you tightens and that’s another signal.

Run.

You don’t have to look to know that Jason’s biting down a grin as you drag each other along the dirty, buckling sidewalk, evading indifferent passersby as the cashier shouts out a few expletives in vain. You keep your breathing in time with his, pumping your arms as you leap over cracks and clumps of yellowing grass. Jason’s hand slides down from your wrist to wrap around your own hand, vicelike and stubborn. It’s easier to run that way, you think.

Eventually, you find yourselves in an alleyway that’s mostly empty, save for a homeless woman dozing off next to the dumpster. Jason lets go of your hand to unzip his jacket while you do the same. The trash bag behind you crackles when you shuffle back to lean against the brick wall, panting.

“So,” he murmurs, blue eyes a steely shade of grey in the shadows of the alley, “Purple or green?”

“… Green.” You try to swallow and moisten your parched throat. “R-Red or orange?”

“Something wrong, [Y/n]?”

You pause when Jason asks that question, one of his eyebrows raised. His gaze darts down to the pairs of socks in your two hands. That’s when you realize that they are shaking, and it’s a split second later when you realize that it’s because your hands are shaking. Trembling, more like.

“Oh.” Immediately, you clench your fists, embarrassed as you try to still your jittery fingers. “I didn’t even – it’s nothing.” In the brief moment of skeptical silence, you say the only other thing that automatically comes to mind. “Sorry.”

Jason’s curious expression morphs into one of confusion. “The hell’re you saying ‘sorry’ for?” he asks. His tone is a little rough, but when you blurt out another ‘sorry,’ he has the sense to soften a bit. “’S’nothing to say sorry for. We didn’t get caught, so you don’t gotta be shaking.”

You nod, looking down, and he sighs.

“Here.”

He takes your red pair of socks and tucks it into his pocket, then unceremoniously presses the candy bar with the green wrapper into your hand and places your other hand over it. You think that he’ll pull away soon, but he doesn’t; his hands engulf both of yours like some sort of sandwich, and then they stay. His skin is no longer warm like it had been in the store, but his hold is just as firm as it had been when he gripped your wrist not ten minutes ago.

Jason stares intently at his hands and yours, and after a few minutes, he finally lets go, satisfied.

“It’s choco-caramel,” he says, as if nothing had just happened. “Lucky guess.”

You tuck the candy bar into your jacket pocket, hands steady.

II.

You’ve known Jason Todd long enough to know that sometimes, he feels too much.

There’s a whoosh of air as your bedroom door opens, and you think you hear yourself mumble a few protests as the door slams loudly behind Jason. Eyes squinting, you reach out to turn on the bedside lamp, flinching when you click it on.

Heavy, angry breaths heave from the boy’s chest when you fix your gaze upon his hunched-over figure. His mask is gone, but the rest of his uniform still displays its bright and cheerful colors, a stark contrast to the darkness rolling off Jason in waves. Your eyes trace downward from his hair, matted and sweaty from a night of patrolling, to his arms and his hands, straight and stiff at his sides.

Anger still bubbles beneath the surface of his skin, you can see; it escapes in the form of shaking arms and fists.

“Jay?” you murmur in the choking silence.

As if awakened, Jason whirls around to kick the wall. It’s enough to jolt the rest of the sleep out of you, and you blink as he continues to slam his foot against the plaster and concrete, cursing both under and over his breath.

“Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!”

“Jason!”

You throw the blankets off you and cross the room, grabbing his arm. He tears away just as quickly, jaw clenched as he shoots you a venomous glare that’s not quite all there.

“Why the hell are you in my room?!”

“This is my room!”

“No, it’s —” Jason cuts himself off as he finally registers the contents of your bedroom, gaze flitting across your stuffed animals and the Etch a Sketch on your bedside drawer. His mouth tightens, and his expression crumples back into one of irritation.

“No, you’re staying here until you tell me what’s wrong,” you state firmly when he moves to open the door again. Reaching out to touch his arm once more, you hold it as you lead him to your bed and sit down at the edge. “Did Bruce get mad at you again?”

Jason scoffs, high-pitched and loud. “He’s always mad at me during patrol. He’s got a stick up his ass.”

You examine the way he clenches and unclenches his hands in his lap. His breathing is still uneven. “… Something went wrong, didn’t it?”

“He got shot.”

“Bruce?” You frown. Though it’s obviously painful, you know that Bruce’s been shot before, and he gets over it pretty quickly every time.

“No. A – a kid. He was little. I wasn’t quick enough. It was in the leg, but Bruce said if I stayed back the bastard wouldn’t have fired the gun in the first place.” Jason spits out the words like they’re poison. “The hell does he know? He’s never used a gun in his life.”

You chew on your lip. You can picture the scene all too well, bits of memories of Crime Alley shootouts and family homicides filling in the gaps. You can imagine the scream of the child. You can imagine the argument in the Batcave afterwards, Batman glowering over Jason like the Gotham Clocktower, dark and disapproving, as Jason throws his mask down and stomps away.

“Did the kid get to the hospital?” you whisper.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” You breathe out slowly, deliberately. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

Jason is quiet. You look at his hands again, and as if in a daze, you reach out to hold them.

The gloves are dirty. You pull them off as his hands unclench, blinking down at the pale skin mottled with purple bruises at the knuckles. You turn them over to inspect his palms and fingertips as if you’re about to read them, prophesy about his fate or something, but really you just mean to look at them for the sake of doing so. It brings you back in time, touching his hands. They’re still rough with callouses. Still shaking.

“As long as you’ve stopped them,” you mutter, relaxing your hold as the tremors slow, then fade from his muscles. “It doesn’t matter how you do it as long as they don’t do it again.”

“Thanks,” he says. It’s forced out, but it’s sincere. You meet his eyes when he extracts his hands from yours, fingers pulling away as slow as pulling taffy, and they’re tired but resolute.

You almost kiss him that night. But you don’t, thinking that a better time would probably come, when both of you are older and wiser and happier, and when Jason would perhaps not mind kissing you.

That chance is buried along with Jason a few months later, and with it, a part of yourself.

III.

You used to know Jason Todd.

Used to, because Jason is gone. You had been there at his funeral. You had watched his casket get lowered into the ground, and you had thrown a dumb flower at it like it would magically make a wooden box with a dead body prettier somehow. You had cried for him.

Jason Todd is dead. But then Uncle Alfred calls, and all of a sudden, you aren’t so sure anymore.

Although Bruce had initially objected, Alfred tells you about the empty casket and the Red Hood. He asks if any men had visited you lately, or if you feel like someone’s watching you. You tell him that you’d probably be dead if either of those things happened. He chuckles.

He tells you that Bruce sends his regards. You hang up.

It’s kind of ironic that you almost get killed that same night.

Your ears are still ringing and the frigid night air makes it hard to breathe; the ghost of a cold, hard pistol pressed against your temple renders you dizzy. The whole thing could have been avoided if you’d remembered to test the battery of your damn taser this month, but you hadn’t, and now three bodies are in the alleyway – yours; the man that had touched you, now deceased, lying on the asphalt; and a strange man with the gun that had won.

The rest of the smoke finally dissipates from the barrel. Your savior for the night spins the weapon in his hand before tucking it away at his hip, strolling over to crouch down at the thief’s side. With no great effort, he shoves a hand underneath the corpse to roll it over.

You stand, still quite in shock, as the man in the red helmet reaches into the dead man’s back pocket and plucks out a square, leather object. He stands up and holds it out to you, and you realize that it’s your wallet.

You take it. “Thanks … er …”

“Red Hood,” he says, looking down at you. It feels like he’s staring.

“Yeah,” your heart is in your throat and you will the next few words to come out smoothly, “I know. I’ve heard about you.”

“Well, shucks, I’m flattered. I bet the rumors are full of sunshine and rainbows.”

The words seem innocent, but the tone is familiar. You know this tone and manner of speaking. It’s baiting, a subtle prod to reveal yourself, and overwhelming curiosity leads you to reciprocate.

“There’s not many vigilantes out in Gotham who aren’t under the bat, you know.”

The Red Hood barks out a sharp laugh. “Don’t need the bat when I’ve got a gun.”

He’s right, though you know Batman certainly wouldn’t appreciate that reasoning. Your gaze darts down to the leather holster cradling that deadly weapon. You wet your lips, cautiously, as he leans against the wall opposite you and waits for you to talk again.

“You could’ve just knocked him out.”

“I also could’ve let him splatter your brains out. Life’s full of possibilities.” He uncrosses his arms, and you, for some insane reason, stay where you are as he suddenly pushes off the wall. His voice lowers. “So’s death.”

Your next words are exceptionally careful. He’s getting closer, the white eyes of his helmet washed in shadows as you meet them as solidly as you can. “I’ve heard about that too.”

(Despite your greatest efforts, you feel your hands begin to shake. No no no. You cross your arms to hide them and look more put together than you feel.)

“Really,” he says. “Do tell.”

“My uncle,” you begin slowly, “was just telling me today about a casket that was recently dug back up in the cemetery. They found that the person in it – who was supposed to be in it – was never there.”

“Wow. That’s wild.”

“Yeah. Wild.”

God, your hands won’t stop shaking. They tremble, suffocating in the crooks of your elbows, and you’re growing more and more frustrated as the Red Hood just stands there, infuriatingly silent as he watches your patience slowly unravel until the last thread snaps.

“Look,” you finally exclaim, taking a single step forward; your voice is hoarse and desperate and barely above a whisper. “Jason, if that’s you, tell me. It was just us for so long – you owe me a yes or no, goddammit!”

Your fingers are achingly, annoyingly stiff. Tremors wrack through each tendon and joint. Breathing heavily, you realize that you’re now gripping his biceps, blunt nails digging into the soft leather of his jacket, and that you’re standing much closer to him than you thought you were.

A solid minute passes. Then, slowly, the Red Hood reaches up to grasp your forearms, his hands dragging down to meet yours as they pull away from his jacket. You bite your tongue, glaring at the space between you.

Jason squeezes your hands tight, and then he lets go.

Your arms drop down to your sides, limp, as he pats your shoulder, looking to his left. “Your apartment’s just across the street, right? You’ll probably make it,” is all he says.

You just nod emptily and amble out of the alleyway, mind blurry while he trails close behind, leaving the corpse of your assailant where it had fallen. There’s no cars driving around right now so you just walk across the street without looking both ways, only stopping once you reach your apartment door and have your key out to unlock it.

You turn around before opening the door; no one’s around, naturally, and you exhale and step inside.

As soon as the lock clicks, your legs give out underneath you. You crumple on the cold tile, hands folded and crushing against your mouth in some semblance of a prayer, and start to cry – and you can’t, for the life of you, figure out why.

[50 Wordless Ways to Say “I Love You” prompt list (requests using this prompt list are CLOSED)]

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opheliawritesxo · 3 years

Text

When In Paris

Prompt (in bold): 26 – “I call dibs.”

Pairing: 12 – STUCKY

Summary: After Bucky’s first mission back with the team, the quinjet breaks down so the Avengers have to spend the night in a hotel and of course the two boys from Brooklyn pair up; but there’s a problem. There’s only one bed which causes Steve to have a goddamn crisis and Bucky does what he always does, save the punk’s ass.

Warnings: pure fluff that it’ll rot your teeth, an extremely over used trope, implied smut (if you squint but read between the lines y’all), strong language

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: This is day 1 of 30 prompts. The list is here if you wanna check it out (x) I’m hoping y’all will get smut by day thirty but even with eleven years of fan-fiction writing experience under my belt smut is something I’ve never tried so y’know have some fluff for now (which is a rarity in itself so count yourselves lucky). ALSO DID I REALLY MANAGE TO WRITE LESS THAN 2K I AM SHOOKETH

Sitting outside on the fire escape, Bucky relished in being back in Brooklyn after so long away. Once again sharing an apartment with Steve, it truly felt like being home again. Except instead of Bucky heading to the docks and Steve staying at home, their roles were switched. Bucky still wasn’t called out on missions, not yet anyway. He’d only recently passed his med and psych evaluation, but he knew Steve was wary about him being back in the field.

“Buck?” He heard the sleepy voice of his best friend call; it was only then that Bucky realised it was 3am and he should probably be in bed.

“Yeah?” He called back, pushing himself to his feet and heading towards the window.

“There’s a mission, kinda big.” Bucky raised an eyebrow at the towering blonde as he stood in front of him, half in his suit.

“You wanna bring me in?” Steve sighed, rubbing between his eyes.

“It’s a hydra base, we kinda need your expertise here but you don’t have to actively go inside. You could stay on the quinjet and just feed us information.” He rambled; Bucky couldn’t stop the small smile that was forming.

“Nah I don’t mind. S’not like they can put me under, all the words are gone, and I got the fancy new arm from Shuri. Is everyone going?”

“Uh yeah.. think so.”

“Well then punk, looks like my biggest worry is gonna be Stark.” Bucky grinned as he squeezed Steve’s shoulder, heading to pull on his uniform for the first time. It was safe to say he was nervous about what was going to happen, but he’d always had Steve’s six and he’d had his.

The mission itself went exactly to plan, a rarity but it did happen occasionally. The only thing that went wrong was the quinjet breaking down before they headed back causing them to have to stay at a hotel for the night whilst Tony sent for a replacement. They were in a beautiful hotel in the outskirts of Paris, the most romantic city in the world. Tony, as expected, took a room to himself with Bruce and Thor partnering up same with Natasha and Clint which left Steve and Bucky.

After being handed their keys, the two boys from Brooklyn headed upstairs. Their room was on the top floor with three floors between them and any of the other Avengers which Tony helpfully pointed out with a wink. Steve was used to Tony’s innuendos and just took the keys with a shake of his head, but Bucky was certainly confused at the implication. So, what if there were three floors between them and the others, what was the big deal? It wasn’t until they both walked into the room that Bucky’s brain finally decided to catch up with him.

“Tony, you son of a bitch.” Steve grumbled as he looked ahead of him. Bucky raised an eyebrow, peaking to the side of Steve to see what cause the ‘I’m-disappointed-in-you’ grumble; a staple for 30’s Steve. Mainly seen whenever Bucky would work longer at the docks without telling Steve.

There was only one bed.

“I call dibs.” Bucky helpfully called as he made a beeline for it, jumping on top of it and stretching himself it. He didn’t understand why Steve was so disgruntled by it, not like they shared a bed for their whole childhood and even before Bucky shipped out. Saved a lot of money on heating when they could just share body heat.

“I’ll take the floor.” Those words from Steve stopped Bucky in his tracks. Pushing himself up on his elbows.

“No, you won’t.” Bucky muttered as he looked over at the man. “C’mon Stevie, this bed is big enough for both of us. You’re gonna fuck up your back if you sleep down there.”

“Seriously Buck it’s fine.” Groaning, Bucky pushed himself to his feet. Grabbing pillows off the bed and placing them on the floor. “What ya doin’?”

“Well if you’re gonna be a dumbass and sleep on the floor then I am too. Either we both sleep in there,” He smirked, motioning to the bed. “Or neither of us do.” His hands were placed firmly on his hips, mimicking Steve’s most famous pose.

Groaning with his head in his hands, Steve rubbed at his face before throwing his hands in the air. “Fine! If we’re playing that game then I guess we’re both sleeping in the bed. You win jerk.” He mumbled.

“Always do punk.” Bucky’s cheshire cat grin slipping straight onto his face as if it hadn’t been dormant for seventy years. That only served to make Steve’s heart skip a beat. “Now c’mon, I’m beat.” Steve gulped and made for the bed still in his full uniform, but Bucky stopped him with just a look.

“What Buck?” He sighed.

“You’re not wearing your full tac gear in bed.” Steve felt a blush rise up his cheeks.

“I-“

“Stevie for fucks sake just take it off and get into bed. I’m going into the bathroom if it’s your modesty you’re worried about.” The former assassin grumbled as he made his way into the bathroom. Groaning Steve quickly pulled off his suit leaving him in just his undershirt and boxers. He chastised his past self for not wearing looser boxer briefs.

You see the problem here was that Steven Grant Rogers had been head over heels for one James Buchanan Barnes since he was fourteen. Now he’d never acted on it because he was in fact; a big ‘ole scaredy cat. With his myriad of health problems back pre-serum he never had to worry about sharing a bed with Bucky because at the time it was just sensible and any appendages that might take interest in snuggling into the most attractive man Steve had ever come across in his life, didn’t particularly work; see previous myriad of health problems. Then came war and they didn’t really get a chance to share a sleeping bag or even a tent for the short time they were together with the Howlies. Now in the 21st Century with actual honest to god proper heating that you could control at the touch of a button, there was no need to share a bed.

Steve made his way under the covers and buried himself in as far as he could go. As Bucky came back out he snorted at the mound under the covers.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothin’ m’just tired.” The man with the apparent plan let out an exaggerated yawn as if to say ‘look at me this is not suspicious at all no sir, nothing to see here.’

“Uh huh, whatever you say punk.” Unlike Steve, Bucky was quite happy to strip off his tac gear in plain view for Steve. Opting to go shirtless and in the tightest pair of tighty whities Steve had ever seen causing a very unmanly squeak to fire its way out of his throat. He was doomed.

Bucky just rolled his eyes, sauntering over and pulling at the covers so he could get in, since Steve had them in a white knuckled grip. Settling in, Steve moved himself right to the edge of the bed. Bucky had, had enough. This couldn’t go on any longer.

“Okay I’m sick of this. What the fucking hell is up with you!?” Bucky snapped. “Ever since I came back it’s as if I smell of shit! You can’t get far enough away from me. Gonna tell me what’s going through that idiotic mind of yours or are we gonna continue playing these games?”

Steve was both heartbroken and slightly turned on at Bucky’s tone. He hadn’t meant to have been that obvious in his avoidance but in Steve’s defence it was for Bucky’s own good. The 21st century might be more inclusive than it was back when they were bunking together in Brooklyn, but Steve was still Captain America. He still had a reputation to uphold.

“Buck.. I’m sorry.” Steve muttered as he scooted closer to the other man. “I didn’t mean to be a dick ‘bout it I just.. I’m.. well.. there’s things about me you’re not gonna like.”

“Stevie, I like everything about you. Try again.”

“You don’t get it Bucky! I-I’ve been keeping this secret since I was fourteen and I don’t- I’m scared alright?” He croaked, closing his eyes so he didn’t have to look at the eyes that gave him his last happy thought before he crashed the Valkyrie into the ice.

Bucky sighed, placing a soft hand over Steve’s which was lying in between them. “I’ve known you since you were seven punk. There ain’t no secret about you that I don’t already know.”

Steve scoffed, wishing he had the strength to pull his hand away. “So, you know I’m gay then?” He snapped.

“Yup.” Bucky replied, exaggerating the P at the end. “You’re not exactly subtle when you’re trying to check out my ass.” Steve’s heart stopped and he truly was a sixteen-year-old kid from Brooklyn again.

“W-What?”

“Oh, come on Steve, you’re smarter than this. Your sixteenth birthday in ’34, we talked ‘bout kissing remember?”

“Uh huh..”

“Remember I kissed you on the couch, told you we had to get practice in before we went out and got ourself some dames?” It was all coming back to Steve now. The looks Bucky used to give him, how Bucky always flirted with the girls but never took them home.

“So you-“

“Yip.”

“All this time?”

“Yes sir.”

“But.. how.. why..”

“’Cause I never found the right time to blurt out ‘hey stevie, see instead of practising kissing can we actually kiss for real ‘cause you’re my best guy and I wanna spend the rest of my life with ya even though we’ll probably get arrested but fuck it’.” Bucky exclaimed, grabbing Steve at the hips and pulling him forward, wrapping his arms around the blonde’s waist.

Steve couldn’t quite believe this was real. He was pretty sure he’d knocked himself out back at the base and this was all a fever dream. Bucky chuckled softly as he moved to cradle Steve’s face in his hands.

“You like me?” Steve squeaked causing Bucky to erupt in belly aching laughter.

“I think I a bit more than like ya punk. I love you Stevie. Have done ever since I was seventeen.” Steve closed the very small distance between them by practically launching himself at Bucky. Kissing him with every ounce of love and adoration he had to give; which was over seventy years’ worth of it.

“I love you too Bucky, have since I was fourteen.” He whispered, peppering kisses to the others jaw. Bucky was the one to initiate the kiss this time around. It was deeper and more passionate than the one Steve had initiated but it held no less love. The kisses didn’t stop there, there was seventy odd years of making up for lost time to do.

If they slept through their alarm in the morning and opted to stay in the hotel for a couple of days longer because, when in Paris; there would be nods of understandings and shouts of ‘have fun!’ from the others. In reality though, Natasha would find herself with a lot of favours to call in from the others since she’d been the one to ‘break’ the quinjet. Safe to say, everyone at SHIELD and in the Avengers were wholly aware of how much those two idiots needed to declare their love for each other and just bone for heaven’s sake.

#stucky #stucky fic #stucky fanfic #stucky fanfiction #Steve rogers #Bucky barnes #November prompts #Steve x bucky #Steve Rogers x bucky barnes

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starkerism · 5 years

Text

Title: Kiss Me

Summary: Five times Peter and Tony almost kiss and one time they did.

TW: Mild dub-con (I think), frottage

First Time | Second Time | Third Time | Fourth Time | Fifth Time

Peter doesn’t see Tony for a few weeks.

The missions they’re on keep them apart, always teamed up with the other Avengers. Whether or not it’s been twisted by Tony’s hand, Peter doesn’t know. He’s thankful though; after the incident on the quinjet, he’s in a constant state of nervousness when he’s hanging in the Avengers Tower, his stomach curdling whenever a door opened and someone entered.

When they do finally see each other again, it’s in the lab. Peter walks in with Bruce, deep in discussion about his recent attempt to integrate the Hulk with himself, and they’re mid-conversation when Peter’s eyes fall on the person across the room who’s staring deep holes into the side of his head.

His chest tightens, breathing stops, legs go weak. Mr Stark’s hands are hovering over an arc reactor, tools gripped between his fingers, but they’ve stopped moving, his eyes frozen on Peter. Everything else in the room fades out, a loud humming ringing in Peter’s ears, and he can only stare back, his entire body alight.

“Peter? Peter?” A voice cuts through the white noise and it takes a few seconds for Peter to acknowledge it. He jerks his head to the side, surprised to see Bruce standing next to him, before he remembers what had been happening before he’d seen Mr Stark.

“Y-Yeah? Yeah, sorry.” Peter clears his throat when his voice comes out in a croak. Ignoring the confused glances Bruce throws between him and Mr Stark, he makes his way over to his station, throwing his backpack onto the top of the counter. He can still feel Mr Stark’s eyes on the back of his head and it stills him for a second. He stares at the counter and closes his eyes slowly, breathing out carefully.

Maybe it was a good thing they hadn’t been teamed up lately.

“Tony? Tony. Oh, for God's sake,” Peter hears Bruce say behind him and Peter can’t help but throw a curious glance over to Mr Stark. He’s still staring at him like he’s made out of diamond, ignoring Bruce. “Alright, fine, I’ll leave you two to it.”

Having caught Tony’s gaze again, Peter doesn’t even notice Bruce leaving.

The air in the lab thickens and it’s an embarrassingly long time before Peter can bring himself to use his voice.

“Long time no see,” He says, impressed at the casual tone he’d forced. He’d half-expected it to come out as a squeak. This breaks Tony out of his weird, heated trance and he lets out a choked cough, casting his eyes downwards to the arc reactor in front of him.

“Yeah, good to see you, kid.”

Peter starts to pull out a few textbooks and his project for his robotics college class, cheeks flushing at the mere sound of Mr Stark’s voice. Damn, he had it bad.

He wants to say something else, make Mr Stark talk to him, bring back that rapport they used to have, but the idea sends fire through his nerves. So he sits down and gets to work, trying hard to ignore Mr Stark’s eyes on his back.

-x-

When Peter lifts his head up from the machine in front of him, his neck clicks and his spine aches in protest. He blinks away the dryness in his eyes, stretches out the stiffness in his fingers, and looks up at the clock on the wall.

2:00am. Five hours has passed.

He curses himself for falling into ‘The Zone’ again and stands up, pushing the stool behind him with a screech. It echoes loudly in the darkened lab and Peter looks around, rolling his shoulders. He didn’t know when he’d forgotten that Tony was in the room with him, but the stool Mr Stark had been sitting on was empty now, so he must have left long ago.

With a sigh of disappointment, he gathers up everything on his counter and pushes it into his backpack. It’d probably be another few weeks before he’d see Mr Stark again and despite his crippling nervousness at seeing him, he’d soaked in every minute.

He walks towards the door to the lab and presses the button. The door opens with a hiss, but as he’s about to leave, his ears pick up the sound of a small whimper.

Confused, he turns around, eyes scanning the lab again. Most of it is cast in shadow. He waits and sure enough, the sound pierces his ears again.

He walks back in, throwing his backpack on the floor, and keeps searching the darkness. That’s when he spots a moving lump on the sofa in the corner. The door closes quietly behind him as he steps closer and closer, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. Even in the dark, Mr Stark’s features are easily distinguishable. He’s asleep, one arm hooked around the back of his head and the other hanging limply off of the edge of the couch.

Peter swallows and leans over to tap a nearby lamp and it casts a warm, dim light over Mr Stark. It’s too good of an opportunity to pass up and Peter takes his entire form in hungrily. His Iron Maiden t-shirt has ridden up slightly, showing a patch of smooth skin and his sweatpants have twisted in his sleep, pulling down on the left side a little too far, showing the crease between the top of his thigh and his groin and fuck Peter’s mouth goes dry and he can’t take his eyes away from it.

Then Tony whimpers again, forehead creased, hands tightening into fists. A nightmare?

Peter shakes himself and moves quickly to wake him up. But his coordination has other plans - one foot gets in the way of the other and then Peter’s toppling forwards. His knees fall either side of Mr Stark’s hips and his forearms crash against the arm of the couch that Tony’s head is resting against.

Peter doesn’t want to open his eyes. He can feel the breath on his face and he knows if he opens them, he’ll see Mr Stark’s staring back at him. Then Tony whimpers again and Peter’s eyes fly open in shock.

He’s still asleep.

How he’d managed to stay asleep after being jostled, Peter doesn’t know. He lets out a sigh of relief and goes to move, but freezes when he feels a warm, firm hand slide across his hip to the small of his back. Then it pushes and Peter’s groin collides with Tony’s and Peter can’t help the gasp that falls from his lips.

So… Not a bad dream, then.

Tony’s forehead is creased, head tilted back, a slight sheen of sweat across his face. He’s hard and fuck, fuck, he’s grinding into Peter, who’s frozen in place, his cock slowly filling at the contact. God, it feels blissful and Peter gives into it, just for a moment. Lets his head fall down onto Tony’s collarbone, whimpering when Tony’s covered erection brushes deliciously against his, chasing the feeling with his own hips, his fingers curling into the arm of the couch.

He needs to get up, he needs to move now and pretend like this never happened, but Tony’s other hand comes up and grabs his ass, squeezing, pushing him down harder, and then faster and faster and shock after shock is spreading from his cock up his spine.

Tony’s whimpers turn into moans and he turns his head into Peter’s neck, his mouth parting, lips pressing into his neck loosely as he lets out sound after sound. It’s too good, so so good, and Peter’s drunk on it, eyes half-lidded, mind completely focused on the feeling of their covered cocks pressing into each other, each grind sending sparks into the backs of his eyes.

Then Mr Stark is stiffening as he comes, stifling his loud moan into Peter’s neck, legs twitching.

“Pete,” Mr Stark hisses through gritted teeth into his neck, and that’s what does it. Peter goes over the edge with a cry, eyes squeezing shut, the intensity of his orgasm making his entire body tremble.

When he comes back down, he almost lets himself fall limply onto Tony, but he catches himself. And then the reality of the situation hits him. And then he finds himself looking down into a pair of dark eyes.

Peter and Tony stare at each other, both panting, both looking absolutely horrified.

“Oh… oh God, Mr Stark, I’m-- I’m so sorry.” Peter scrambles to his feet, grimacing at the feeling in his boxers, and steps backwards, watching as Tony sits up from the sofa, a hand pressed to his head.

“What… what happened?” Mr Stark asks and it’s jarring, hearing him say that, of all people. The one guy who prided himself on knowing everything.

“I--I thought you were having a nightmare and I went to wake you up, but I fell, a-and it turns out it wasn’t a nightmare,” Peter feels so guilty, so shit, “And y-you-- we--” Peter closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath, trying to regulate the shame coursing through his system. He opens them again, looks Tony straight in the eye. “It felt too good.” He croaks.

And that’s all it takes for the confusion and horror to fall from Tony’s face. He has that look in his eyes again, the one where he makes Peter feel like he’s about to be consumed, and it’s too much. Peter gulps, feels tears prickling.

“I-I’m really sorry,” Peter says, and then he turns and scurries away, ignoring Mr Stark’s shouts behind him. He picks up his backpack as he passes it, swings it over his shoulder, and runs for his room.

tags:@carey-roza @starkerintheparker @darknessyuu @bipolarlatinx @sarahannexo @avaxxc @maybeitsstarker @tonystark-hank-harry-rdj @another-starker-hoe @spiderboyunderoos69 @starker-reader @paintingbellarke @mystarkershame

#starker #tony x peter #sorry if i forgot anyone!!#idk how to keep track of all the kiss me posts and idk whose asked to be tagged #i need to change the summary cos i swear only like two parts was them 'almost kissing' lmao #BUT HERE YA GO

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