#Bruce - distressed: alfred please | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ellana-ravenwood · 1 year

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From parents to babies - Batfam x fem!reader

Synopsis : You and Bruce got turned into toddlers !! Shenanigans ensue, of course.

This is part of a little “series” I guess, here’s the first part with Jason : Jason Todd(ler). I’m planning on writing a lil story for all the kids hehe, but I thought : “hey, what about Batmom and Bruce ?” and here we are. Hope you’ll like this !

Please, do not repost my stories anywhere else, under any other form. Do not translate and then repost them either. Thank you.

My masterlist : @ella-ravenwood-archives

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“Bruce !”

“(Y/N) !”

You manage to scream each other’s names before-

Before a white flash engulfed the both of you, and you suddenly disappeared, only a pool of your clothes remaining where you once stood.

“Nooooo !!” is the last thing you hear before your mind goes blank, and you recognize the voice as being your youngest son’s, Damian. The sound of his scream greatly distresses you, but alas, you cannot do anything to help as you feel yourself slowly fading away and-

Footsteps. Running fast to reach the place you stood on merely seconds before. But you’re not there anymore, you’re not there !

“It’s not possible !”

That’s Jason. His voice breaking at the end of his sentence, as he approaches the bunch of clothes left on the floor, a lump in his throat as the inevitable is starting to be clearer and clearer, and he cannot refuse reality anymore.

Vaporized. His parents just got vaporized by that wannabe-magician’s laser !

In the mess of it all, that asshole even escaped ! Which was a good thing, in a way, because Jason promised you and Bruce he would never kill again, but he wasn’t sure he could hold that promise if he was faced with the man who took away his beloved parents.

You all only just made peace with each other, only just became a family again ! How was he suppose to go on losing you once more ?

Dick was the first to reach the spot in which you were. He had always been the fastest of them all. His heart beats too fast in his chest, and he has this horrible thought that it’s the second time he sees his parents being killed right in front of him when-

Movements. Small movements. There, amongst his father’s suit. And there, amongst his mother’s clothes. And then-

Little hands. Fighting to find an exit in this labyrinth of fabrics. Little grunts of frustration, like when a child is trying to do something but doesn’t quite manage to do it. Finally finding an out. And-

“Oh shit.”

Dick says, as he stares at- Two kids ??

One, a little boy. who couldn’t be more than two years old, black hair, bright blue eyes. The second one, (E/C) eyes and (H/C) hair and-

“Oh shit.”

Tim says, as he’s the second one to reach the place and he immediately understands that his parents aren’t dead, but rather...

They’ve been turned into toddlers !

“Oh shit !” You exclaim happily, giggling.

“Oh shit !” Baby Bruce repeats, and you both look at each other and giggle even more. Damn it. They’ve been in the care of children for only a second, and they already taught you bad words !

Bruce reaches for you, and there’s no doubt now that those two kids are indeed you and your husband ! Because immediately, you move closer to each other, your clothe much too big for you now being like blankets on you.

Dick picks the both of you up, wrapping you in the cloths, and turns around to greet his siblings.

Slowly, all your children reach you and-

“Oh shit !” You and Bruce say in unison, proud to show everyone (whomever those people were) that new word you just learned.

And “oh shit” indeed, is on all of your kids’ mind.

************

Of course, it had to happen when Alfred was away on his one vacation a year...Of freaking course.

It wouldn’t be funny otherwise, right ?

Only Alfred, could find a solution to this problem ! Your kids were totally lost !

Evidently, neither you nor Bruce remembered who you really were. You were clearly just two two years old.

And it seemed you didn’t mind being picked up by people you didn’t know, as long as you could stay together (you two downright SCREAMED so loudly, when Jason tried to take you from Dick’s arms so his brother wouldn’t have to hold the both of you).

It was as if that, at least, remained. Your bond.

As if you were just- Instant friends, or something.

They got you home, and :

“Ok, any of you ever took care of babies ?”

“Me not baby !” You say, glaring at your oldest son. It’s true, you knew you were two (somehow), you were no baby anymore !

“I’m sorry mom, I just- Oh gods this is so weird.”

And it truly was, weird, to see their parents, the two people they knew they could always count on if they had a problem, being literal children.

They couldn’t call them for help, you guys barely knew how to properly walk ! And had a very small vocabulary, too...Dick shook his head. This wasn’t a time to diss babies, this really wasn’t the time !

“Ok, first things first, we need to find them clothes. Duke, Jason, go the a shop and get them some stuffs to wear. While Cass and I will go buy some food for them. Damian and Dick, stay here and take care of them.” Aaaah Tim, ever so pragmatic. In a matter of seconds, he had gotten over the shock of the situation, and was taking matter in his own hands.

And it was good. It was a start. They had no idea what they were going to do after, except the fact they had to find a way to get you back to normal. But at least, they had the beginning of a plan.

They knew they could all count on Tim for plans. From A to Z, he would find a way. He had no idea how to take care of babies, of course, but his mind could find solutions to every problems.

Yes. Yes. They only had to start moving. And things would be alright. They could do this.

They could do this.

They had to do this, for both your sake.

************

Officially, Bruce and (Y/N) Wayne went away on a surprise vacation. Your disappearance had to be explained.

None of your kids called Alfred, the butler deserved his annually vacation after all, and they knew he would come right home if he heard. So they let him be, and started to take care of their “baby parents”.

Brucie ish scared

Before being the way Gotham’s media, models and such, called him when he still had his playboy persona, and not his “family man” one that he now had, “Brucie” was the nickname his mom gave him.

Never in public, of course, but when they were home. When she was telling him bed time stories or singing lullabies to him. When she woke him up, gently, in the mornings. When she told him to come home for dinner, as he was playing in the garden.

“Brucie”, was a name Bruce always associated with his mother’s affection and love. Which is why he hated how the media, and certain people, self-appropriated that name, and associated it with that persona who wasn’t even himself.

It’s not like he could do anything about it, though. He had a role to play.

And so, “Brucie” became that “other him”, while initially, it was his true self...

It had been years, since anyone had called him that. He wasn't a playboy, anymore, and your little nickname for him (aside from “my heart” and other term of endearment) was “my Broosh”.

And so finally, this name came full circle.

Brucie.

That’s how he called himself. Toddlers had that tendency to talk about themselves in the third person, sometimes. And Bruce, was referring to himself as “Brucie”, not “Bruce”.

Your children were a hundred percent sure it was because even if he didn’t seem to ask for his parents, a part of him remembered them, and how his mom called him.

Even turned into a toddler who didn’t remember much of his own life, Bruce still had his parents in mind.

And so he called himself Brucie.

And Brucie was a scaredy cat !

The irony of which didn’t escape any of your kids.

What, the “fearless Batman” was afraid of literally everything ? That was funny. Dick made sure to take PLENTY of videos (just if he needed leverage for something one day).

Brucie got scared of the vacuum cleaner. Brucie got scared of the dark. Brucie got scared of any noise that was too loud. Brucie got scared whenever (Y/N) wasn’t around. Brucie-

“Brucie ish scared !” He’d whimper, and run towards the closest “adult” he could find (any of your children, though over half of them were far from being official adults), seeking comfort.

Every time, and it was the most adorable thing to witness, you’d rush to him, and hold him saying : “No scared Brooshie, no scared, me here. Me here.”

First, “Brooshie” = so darn cute, a toddler adaptation of the traditional “Broosh”. Second, the way you’d shield him in your little arms, and how he’d hide his face and close his eyes, how he’d hold onto you and calm down as you told him to not be scared, it had to be peak adorableness.

And in a way, toddlers you were a good reflection of adults you.

Bruce was no longer scared, in the strictest sense of the term. He had shunned all his emotions, locked them away deep in his heart, for years. Ignored his pain, and the remnant of his fears.

And then you came in, and forced open his heart, shattering all the walls he build for years, and making it impossible for him to live without you (and vice versa).

Just as Baby Bruce found comfort and safety in your arms, just as he was soothed by your voice, Adult Bruce knew he could always be safe and warm in your embrace.

Nobody, when witnessing such scenes, could even dare say you weren’t made for each other.

DICK

It was so weird.

Dick just couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that you two were turned into kids. Like, what ?

His...parents were now younger than him. How weird was that ??

Of course, he knew he should be used to weird things by now. After all, over the years, from when he first became Robin to now, he had seen his fair share of strange stuffs. But this-

This was really, really odd.

“Ick !” was the name you and Bruce decided to give him. No matter how many times he made you repeat it, you could never truly manage to say his name properly. And so, he was now “Ick”.

And “Ick” had no clue how to take care of children.

Was this how Bruce felt, when he officially adopted him ? Was this how you felt, when you became his mom while being so young ?

Of course, Dick was older when he first arrived. But he was also a lot more traumatized. And he knew he could be difficult, at times. He could be so damn angry, back then.

While you and Bruce ? You were adorable kids. You’d listen to him, and never talk back. What, you were supposed to be in your “terrible twos” era, yet it seemed like you were just good kids.

Of course, the fact that your eldest son let you do absolutely everything you wanted might’ve been a reason as to why you two were so “nice” with him, and didn’t throw any tantrum.

No tantrum needed, when the person taking care of you would let you do whatever you wanted.

You didn’t wanna wear pants ? No problems. You didn’t want to eat your vegetables, but wanted sweets instead ? All good. You didn’t want to take a nap ? Then he could play with you a little longer.

Yes. It became quite apparent that Dick could not resist you, at all.

Which wasn’t much of a surprise, really. Because he was the same way with his siblings. They could make him do whatever they wanted to (outside of work, of course. When they were vigilantes, it was an entire other story, but it was because he often had to take the “leader” job, and a mistake could cost a life).

And so, even though he found it extremely weird, and couldn’t quite call you “mom” and “dad” anymore (and who would blame him ?), he didn’t hate taking care of you.

He sort of saw it as “payback”, for all the years you put up with his moods. For all the time you didn’t give up on him, and all the moments you were there to catch him when he fell.

The reason he found it so hard to accept and fathom the situation, was because you and Bruce had become such “safety nets”, for him.

You were his parents. He couldn’t think of a life without you. Without your guidance. Without your soothing words. Without your scolding, when he needed one. Without-

He couldn’t accept this turn of event, because he needed you. He had pushed you enough, in his teenage years and early adulthood. Now, he realized he absolutely needed his parents.

He had to find a solution, and fast. Because although he didn’t mind taking care of you as you were nice kids, he just wanted his parents back.

JASON

Jason was the most responsible one.

Which, when people knew your children, wasn’t that surprising.

He’d always been a responsible kid, despite what anyone could think.

He was a really good big brother, always looking out for his little siblings, and being there to be their voice of reason (Dick being his...he had a "decent teacher”).

And so he became the “mom” of the house (it’s a nickname Tim, Duke and Damian gave him, when he wasn’t there).

He had always loved cooking, ever since he was a kid. So he took it upon himself to cook healthy meals for both you and Bruce, and would scold Dick whenever he’d caught his brother red handed giving you candies and other ice cream right before dinner !

Bruce hated carrots, and you despised spinach. Other than that, it seemed you were willing to try everything he made for you two.

Jason spend hours on the internet searching for recipes fit for two years old, for things you should feed kids this young. And he came up with quite a diet for the both of you.

The food he made was delicious (and more than once, he caught one of his sibling eating from your spoon instead of feeding you !).

Jason would be the one to remind everyone of yours and Bruce’s bed time. After all, “bed time” in the Wayne household had always been a little;..different, to say the least. But with toddlers ? It couldn’t be. It had to be regular, or they’d be too tired.

Jason made a carefully planned sleep schedule for his “parents”. And when he wasn’t the one babysitting at night (they all took shifts so they could still do their vigilante jobs), he would call his sibling when it was bed time to make sure they’d respect it. He would genuinely harass Dick, because he knew his older brother was “weak” and could never refuse puppy eyes (after all, he abused of that technique to get him to do whatever he wanted, when he was younger), and he had to be reminded that a regular bed time was important !

How odd it was, for thugs, being downright beaten down by the scary Red Hood, while the latter would talk in his income and say things like : “I can’t believe you gave them ice cream before sleepy time again !” and others : “They’re babies, they need at least ten hours of sleep !”

Jason didn’t let any tantrum through. Where Dick would just let you and Bruce do whatever you wanted, Jason had clear limits.

Because that is how you raised him. Sure, Bruce could be a little too strict sometimes, especially with Dick. But he had grown as a father, and slowly learned the difference between being too rigid and allowing his kids to be kids.

Jason often joked that Dick was the “trial and error” era, but he wasn’t too far off. With Dick, you and Bruce made plenty of mistakes. You did with your other kids too, of course, but with your eldest most of all. Because he was your first child, and you had no idea what you were doing at the time.

But, yes. Jason knew the importance of limits, for children. Kids needed boundaries, so they could feel safe. He knew, because it totally worked on him.

And so, you’d have a tantrum ? Too bad, you’d just have to calm down and ask again nicely. Jason was intransigeant.

He was, though, the first one there if you or Bruce woke up crying during the night. And he’d take you in his arms (always the both of you at the same time), and sing to you. Or tell you stories. Up until you’d fall asleep again.

Jason, although he had strict schedules and food diet, was such a gentle soul. Such a gentle carer. You knew that one day, he would make a great dad. And if that experience taught any of you anything, it was that yes, yes.

Jason told would one day make a wonderful father.

TIM

"I think he doesn’t like me...”

Tim said, deflated and defeated, as, once again, his dad (in baby form) cowered away from him as he approached.

You ? You enjoyed being taken care of by Tim. You liked him very much. But for some reasons, “Brucie” seemed scared of him.

“Don’t say that. I think he’s just- shy.”

“Conner, honey, I appreciate you trying to comfort me, but if he was truly shy, he wouldn’t just- Oh come on !”

Of course, Bruce chose that exact moment to jump in Conner’s arms, and to hide his face in his chest so he wouldn’t see Tim anymore. Superboy chuckled uncomfortably, trying to act as if it wasn’t because Bruce was scared or anything, but Tim couldn’t be fooled.

Tim could never be fooled.

And so he sighed, and held you a little closer. At least, his mom always loved him, no matter what age she was.

You seemed to understand that Bruce’s actions made Tim sad, and even as a toddler, it greatly distressed you to see one of your “kids” sad. So you wiggled to signify to Tim that you want him to put you back down and-

“Oh, not you too, mom ?”

You walk towards Conner, and Tim looks even sadder, as now, both of his “parents” seem to like others better than him...Even if they were just kids, and that Tim knew they weren’t doing it on purpose, his feelings were still hurt.

But then-

You shake Conner’s pants, signifying for him to crouch down to your level. Baby Bruce is in his arms, and beams as he sees you.

“’Own, ‘own !” He says, meaning “down”, and Conner puts him next to you.

Immediately, Bruce takes your hand, and smiles widely. Which comforts Tim a little. At least, even as toddlers, it seemed you two were inseparable.

But then, you drag him towards Tim, and it’s obvious Bruce only follows because he seems very attached to you. The little boy does not want to be there, in front of Timothy Wayne-Drake.

And Tim looks down, sadly. He ruffles your hair affectionately, and says :

“Good try mom, good try. But I don't think he likes me, at all.”

You look at Tim, and then turns around towards Bruce, who was currently hiding behind you (how cute it was, that you always seemed to protect him when he was scared). But this time, you’d have none of it.

Very much alike when you were adults, and you took none of your husband’s shit. You’d always set him back on track. Always.

And so, toddler you said :

“Bwooshie, Tim nice ! Tim good ! Tim fwiend !”

You let go of Bruce’s hand, and the boy whimpers and tries to catch your hand again, but takes a few steps back because he doesn’t want to get too close from Tim. But then-

Then you hop in Tim’s arms, and you snuggle against him. You smile at Bruce, and nods at him saying again : “Tim fwiend ! Tim nice !” and your son cannot help himself and hold you tight.

Even turned into a toddler, he could count on his mama to cheer him up, it seemed...

Slowly, unsure, Bruce approached Tim. The boy was still obviously wary, but those were first steps.

After a while, Bruce finally came towards Tim, and laid his hands on your son’s knees.

He looked deeply into Tim’s eyes, and must’ve finally decided that he wasn’t so scary, because then, he climbed into his laps and everything was resolved.

And oh, oh how much this meant to Tim...

DAMIAN

“Father, you need to give her some air. I swear, even as children you two are impossible !”

“AAAAAAAAAAH !” is Bruce’s response, as Damian tries to take him away from you. Apparently, young Bruce seemed to think screaming was an appropriate response to show his unwillingness to do something.

And it frustrated Damian greatly.

You had fallen asleep on the floor. Laid on your back, you were in a deep slumber, a pacifier in your mouth, your breathing regular. And Bruce was sitting next to you, your head was in his lap, and he was watching TV as one of his hand was on your head, the other one on your cheek.

He too, had a pacifier in his mouth, and although he was focused on the TV show he was watching, it seemed like he had absolutely no intention on letting you go.

When Damian entered the room, he found the both of you like that, and decided it would be better if you slept in your bed. So he went to pick you up, gently taking his father’s hands off of you and-

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAH !” The pacifier falls from his mouth, as he tightens his grip on you, and glares at a bewildered Damian.

You’re so deep asleep that you don’t budge, and then Bruce, after glaring some more at Damian, turns back to watch the TV.

But Damian will have none of it. “Be firm, sometimes.” Jason told him, and he was going to take his big brother advice to heart ! And so he made Bruce let go, and took you into his arms.

After a pause, as Baby Bruce was too shocked to react, his mouth slowly turned down into a frown and-

The little boy bursted into tears. Big, real tears. Ugly sobs with lots of snots running down his nose.

And it made Damian panic.

He hated that. He hated those cries. It reminded him of so many bad memories. He couldn’t handle it, he couldn’t bear it.

Even less so knowing this was his dad !

And so he quickly went to the floor, and took little Bruce in his arms, soothing him expertly as he was still holding you in his other arms.

His shirt was wet from Bruce holding onto it and burying his face into it. But eventually, the boy’s sobs died down, and-

Asleep.

Bruce was fast asleep, too. And his little face looked so at ease.

There. In Damian’s arms, a hand holding one of your hand.

It reminded him of his father as an adult, in fact. How sometimes, he would surprise you and him as you fell asleep on the couch in each other’s arms. And how his father’s face would look the most relaxed and pleased, when you were holding him...

Damian tightened his grip on both of you. He was ready to protect you even if it meant he would have to sacrifice himself !

And oh- Oh he felt something growing inside him. Something important.

Eventually, you and Bruce would be back to normal. He knew it, he knew his siblings would figure something out. Yes. You’d become his parents again.

But he-

He somehow wanted a baby, in this house.

CASS

You both clearly adored Cass.

You would walk towards her, and demand for her to pick you up. And then, when she would inevitably do it, you’d both snuggle against her and quickly fall asleep, absolutely content.

Damian mentioned that he read somewhere that children felt people’s calmness. And so he conjectured that you liked falling asleep on her, because you felt calmed and secure.

Which was the truth.

It made Cass’ heart melt. She, for obvious reasons, never held children before. And she definitely never thought that the first kids she would hold would be her own parents...

Physical touch had always soothed Cass.

Before she met you and Bruce, she was never allowed to be touch, and to touch other. She’d never receive a hug, or a soothing kiss.

Never.

So when you adopted her, she swore she’d take every opportunity to snuggle against you. Against her parents. Oh, and her brothers. None of them could resist a hug from her, not even Jason or Damian.

If Cass wanted a hug, she would have it.

So, she felt so fulfilled, when baby you and baby Bruce came to seek hugs from her. As if everything went full circle.

You and your husband gave her the comfort of parental love. Gave her the safety of your arms, and taught her how important it was to have people you loved close.

And here she was, soothing little versions of you, making you stop crying just by holding you.

Yes. It was a full, nice, comforting and warm circle.

And Cass felt so happy, when you hugged her. Whether you were kids or adults.

DUKE

Duke had tons of little cousins.

Cousins he still saw now, of course. None of his uncles and aunts could take him in, for different reasons (the main one being that none of them lived in Gotham anymore, what happened to Duke’s parents being the last straw...And Duke did not want to leave the city just yet). But he still stayed in contact with them.

Before they all moved, Duke, who was the oldest of the kids in his family, used to babysit his cousins all the time. So, he had experience with children.

And it showed.

With you and Bruce, he was nice, yet strict. He (and Jason) was the only one who didn’t let you do whatever you wanted, and who would plainly ignore any of your tantrums.

He was the only one able to detach himself from the fact you were his parents, and viewed you as normal children he had to take care of.

This is probably what saved him. What made him be able to live with that situation. Just like Dick, he really wanted you back to normal. But his defense mechanism was to pretend you weren’t you, but random kids he had in his care.

It was a lot, for a seventeen years old, but Duke was strong.

You’d always known he was strong, from the moment he became your ward, to now, as he was officially adopted and called you “mom”.

For his own sanity, Duke viewed this as a “baby sitter” job, and so, on purpose, didn’t get attached to baby you and baby Bruce too much. He didn't want to, because he didn’t want you to stay like that.

He wanted his parents back too, he needed you still, he was too young to lose parents a second time !

And so Duke shut his feelings away, and took care of you as if you weren’t really you. He gave you lots of care and love, as a child needed, but-

But he pretended you, as his parents, were away for a while. And constantly thought of a plan to get you back to your normal self.

They never sleep alone

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO !!” Baby Bruce screamed, as loud as he could, holding onto your hands for dear life.

“Me not want, me not want !” You say, kicking Dick with your little legs and holding Brucie’s hands too.

Your kids quickly realized that they COULD NOT separate you for bed time.

They had bought two children’s bed, but in the end, only one was used. You’d fall asleep all snuggled to each others, pacifier in your mouth.

“It’s- Kind of like when they’re grown up.” Damian says, and they all nod.

Yes. Yes it’s true that you two found it really hard to find sleep, when the other one was absent. True insomnia would hit you, in the event that one of you couldn’t be here for the night.

What transpired in your toddler form, how you’d scream if separated, also existed with the adult versions of you.

And it comforted your children, in a way.

They knew that their parents were still in there, somewhere.

ACE

“Doggy !” Little Bruce beamed happily, as he ran as fast as he could towards..Well, his dog, actually.

Ace was taken aback, at first, as he recognized his master’s smell, but couldn’t figure out why he was so...small.

Bruce ran to him, and literally fell on the dog hugging him tightly.

“Doggy !” The little boy said, and your children felt their heart melt.

None of them ever thought they’d ever call their dad “cute”, despite you trying to convince them that he really could be cute (some would say you were biased).

But here, in that moment, as their dad seemed so damn happy just because of his dog, no other words came to their minds.

Cute.

Unruly little buggers !!

You two, together, could be...

“Tornadoes !! They’re goddamn tornadoes !!” Jason screams, as he was running after you.

You were wearing only your diaper, managing to escape the grasp of your son by taking sharp turns there and there, and knocking down every single things on your way.

On the other side of the living room, Tim and Damian were trying to catch Bruce, as he was doing the exact same things.

Ten seconds.

They left the both of you alone for less than ten seconds !!

And when they came back, you and Bruce apparently had decided that it was fun to break extremely valuable objects, including vase, and a large array of ornaments.

You were giggling like a little devil, as you slowly devastated the living room.

“Alfred is going to kill us !” Duke says, holding his head in his hands, standing there watching the disaster unfold in front of him. What else could he do, really, when some of Gotham’s mightiest heroes couldn’t even get a hold of you ??

Finally, Jason catches you, just as Tim lunges forward and grasp his dad as well. The two of you wiggle like snakes as you try to get away, but you do not cry.

No, on the contrary, you both laugh way too loudly, probably thinking that “destroying the house” was a great game.

And your kids could swear that your laughs were genuine “evil laughs”.

Later, on the security camera, they’d know what happened.

At first, you were both sitting on the floor, playing with toys, waiting patiently. But then, Bruce got on his feet, and walked that wobbly unsure walk all children have at first towards the coffee table.

Something had caught his attention. It was a small crystal vase, that Alfred had put there years ago, for decoration. It went splendidly with the carpet, and matched the room perfectly.

And it was shiny, and Bruce wanted it.

He tried to climb on the coffee table, wiggling his little butt to give himself some momentum and get on it...but he couldn’t do it. That’s when you came into action, and pushed him so he would get on.

He turned around, and giggled, as if to thank you, and then-

Then he brought you the vase.

It was quite adorable, really. He wanted it, because it was shiny and looked cool. But then he decided to give it to you, instead.

He let himself fall on the floor from the coffee table once he gave you the vase, and you both stared at it for a second. Before, for some reason, you took it and threw it hard on the wall !

Seriously, sometimes, kids were absolutely impossible to understand. What made you want to suddenly throw that vase like that ? Nobody would ever know. But what was known, is that it seemed like both you and Bruce liked that, because you looked at each others, as if conniving, and pushed yourself off of the floor, standing up.

And then, as your children entered the room with some food, you proceeded to start destroying everything you could get your hands on, up until they finally managed to get a hold on you.

And your downright EVIL laughter filled the room.

Your kids were DEFINITELY going to get that security camera footage out one day again, if you ever decided to punish them or scold them about something.

Back to normal

Zatanna, as usual, to the rescue.

When your kids were finally able to reach her. She arrived barely minutes after they exposed the problems to her. She had been in another dimension, and therefor couldn’t be reached for a while.

From her understanding, it’s been almost a month since you turned into toddlers. And finally, she was there (which was good, because Alfred’s one month vacation a year was coming to an end, and your kids really wanted to pretend nothing ever happened).

Ah but she was accompanied by an unwanted visitor...

“What are you doing here, Constantine ?” Damian asks, holding you in one arm, and his father in the other. Protectively.

“What, I learn that the big bad bat got turned into a kid and you think I could miss that ? No bloody way haha. Curiosity got the best of me !”

“I’m sorry guys, I didn’t mean to tell him but he was there when you called...”

“It’s all good aunt Z, it’s all good. To be fair, I was hoping someone else would see this too, so we can NEVER let them forget they had to wear diapers again haha.”

“Grayson !” your youngest son exclaimed. It’s been a while, since Damian called Dick “Grayson”, but he was absolutely shocked about this “betrayal” !

“Ok, ok. Let’s make sure dad never forget he had to wear diaper again !”

Damian thought about it for a while, and then said : “And you’ll leave mom alone ?”

“Yes, promised.” Dick says, and Constantine nods too (he wasn’t about to mock you anyway, he was too scared of you).

“Alright, then it’s acceptable.”

And on that note, Zatanna started a ritual.

************

“What the hell happened ??” Are Bruce’s first words. And then, he sees you, and takes you into his arms, holding you with almost too strongly.

“I thought I had lost you...” He whispers, and you hold him back just as strongly, because you had the same thought. The last thing you remembered, after all, was that laser coming towards the two of you and then-

And then what ?

After letting you hug each other, your children finally tell you what went on.

And oh. Oh you were so damn proud of them, they did so good !

I want a baby sibling

A few weeks went by.

A few weeks, during which both Dick and John Constantine flooded the group chat all the supers had together with baby pictures of the Batman (oddly enough, they didn’t divulge any picture of you...probably because you scared them a little), and embarrassing videos. It was an endless source of jokes, and teasing from everyone.

But you didn’t worry too much though, you knew your husband would have his revenge (in fact, you were more worried for your son and for Constantine than anything else).

In any case, that episode would be soon behind you, save for a few mockeries there and there. At least, that’s what you thought.

One morning, Damian just casually entered your bedroom and stood before your bed, staring at the two of you, as you were slowly leaving the dream world.

You thought it was an emergency, at first, as none of your children would ever dare to just walk in your bedroom like that (lest they witness something that could scar them for life). But Damian calculated the risks.

It was much too early, for either of you to be awake. So it was safe. And so he came in, without knocking, and planted his feet resolutely in the floor, his hands on his waist, staring the both of you down.

“What is it, buddy ?” You ask, half-asleep. Bruce, his hair a mess, sat up, dazed.

“I came to an important decision. One taken in the light of recent events.”

Confused, neither you nor your husband say anything. Waiting for what your son is going to say next. Slowly, he turns around, and starts to walk left, then right, then left...Pacing in front of your bed, his eyes never leaving you two.

Finally, he stops, and solemnly says :

“I want a baby sibling. Sister or brother I do not care, I just want a little one to take care of, and to be a big brother. I think, I am done being the youngest.”

Bruce stares dumbly at his son, his face blank and expressionless, sure now that he must still be dreaming. And you’re not doing any better. You blink fast a few time, and repeat :

“A baby sibling ?”

Damian doesn’t miss a beat as he says :

“That’s right. Like I said, a little brother or sister, it does not matter to me, as long as it’s mine. My little brother or sister, I mean. Of course, they’ll be their own person, and we won’t own them per se. We’ll just take care of them.”

Silence.

A long silence.

Finally broken by your son :

“Well. I’ll leave you to it then. I expect you will take my request seriously. We will talk about it again another day. Thank you for listening to me, and see you at breakfast.”

And on that note, your son leaves just as casually, as you look at him, astonished.

You turn to your husband and-

You know what he’s thinking. You and Bruce never talked about having biological children, because the kids you already have were always enough for your happiness. You didn’t need more, you already loved them so much.

But you both always told yourselves that if it were to happen...

Of course, you would accept it. You would raise that child with joy, too. It would be quite a bonus, to an already happy life.

And so as your son leaves, and you look at each others you think-

A baby in the house, wouldn’t be so bad.

__________________________________________________

Well, here we are ! I hope you liked this ! As per usual, comments/reblogs are more than welcomed, and always a great motivation to post more :). Don’t hesitate to tell me what you thought of this ! It always makes the time spend on a story worth it, when I hear from y’all :) <3. Thanks in advance, and thanks for reading this, too ! See you soon with another story !

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superbat-love · 10 months

Text

Alfred: It appears that you are running a high fever, Master Bruce. I strongly advise against patrolling the streets tonight.

Bruce: I have to Alfred. [Has a bad coughing fit] Oh no. Quick Alfred, get me to the underground vault.

Alfred: Whatever for sir?

Bruce: I have to hide before-

Clark: Hi Bruce, hi Alfred. [knocks on the window and waves at them]

Bruce: Damn it, we’re too late.

Alfred: Good evening, Mr Kent. Allow me to open the balcony doors for you, sir. [Waves away Bruce’s attempts to shut the curtains] Please come in and make yourself at home.

Clark: Thanks Alfred! Hey Bruce, I heard you coughing all the way from Metropolis, so I just wanted to drop by to make sure that you’re alright. Here, I made you Ma’s special chicken soup.

Bruce: You also flew here at hypersonic speed. That soup’s probably cold now. I’ll warm it up and eat it later, *after* my patrol.

Clark: No worries, the soup’s in this fancy lunch box that you got me for Christmas so I’m sure it’s still warm. Oh by the way Alfred, Bruce and I will be watching ‘Contagion’ in the cinema room tonight.

Bruce: It’s not a lunch box, it’s a voice activated kryptonite storage box with an emergency locator beacon. And no, I’m not staying at home to watch-

Alfred: Sounds wonderful, Mr Kent. Master Bruce, let me put away this Batsuit and prepare the room for the both of you right away. And switch off that distress signal.

#concerned neighbor #persistent bff #incorrect dc quotes #dc headcanon #dc fanfic #drabble #text post #superbat #superman x batman #batman x superman #superman/batman #batman/superman #dc #superman #batman #clark kent #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth

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rahhhbananas · 11 months

Text

✭ ✭ ✭ 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐏 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐈𝐄 ✭ ✭ ✭ ft. the batfamily

summary. Y/n goes through an anguishing breakup right before a gala aka Bruce is done with any and everything that involves his children

warning(s). He/Him pronouns, breakups, inspired by “Barbie’s Torture” scene from Toy Story!

a/n. I know the Batfamily isn’t as fluffy as I make them out to be, but I need something sweet to settle my mind 🤷🏽

"1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7... 1, 2, 3, 4..."

Bruce furrowed his eyebrows. It was necessary to do a headcount before and after a gala, but he seemed to be missing one of the kids. "Dick, Jason, Tim, Stephanie, Cass, Duke, and Damian... Barbras at the office finishing up a case, so..." Bruce muttered, “I believe we’re missing Master Y/n.” Alfred inquired. Realization dawning upon him that Y/n was nowhere to be found. His eyebrows furrowed even deeper. "I thought I told you all to be down here at 8:32..." Bruce grumbled to himself as he ascended the stairs, his pace quickening when he heard screams and cries emanating from a room.

The door swung open, revealing Y/n amidst a collection of clothes hanging from a rack, surrounded by some of the torn garments. He held a purple shimmery vest in his hands. "Y/n, baby, please! Not the vintage purple vest. I said I was sorry!" pleaded Y/n's ex-boyfriend, Ken.

"Sorry, Kenny boy, but apologies won't cut it!" Y/n snapped, tearing the jacket in two, a pained smile stretching across his face. Tear stains marred his cheeks. "You should've thought about your tacky outfits before you cheated on me and messed with my friend!" Y/n flung the torn clothing at Ken, who was tied to what appeared to be a medieval stretcher, clad only in heart-patterned boxers. Bruce stood at the doorway, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief. "Y/n..." he uttered. Y/n swiftly turned his gaze towards the door, his tense smile morphing into a pout, tears welling up in his eyes. "Dadddddddd!" Y/n cried, rushing into his father's embrace. "Y/n... what is going on?" Bruce returned the embrace, cautiously surveying the room for any more surprises. "Ken cheated on me, a-and he called Karen a bitch! I'm Gotham's Barbie, n-no one disrespects me or my friends!" Y/n's pout vanished, replaced by anger and distress in his eyes. Bruce glanced at Y/n's outfit—a white suit with pink accents, and pearl earrings. "Umm..." Bruce blinked repeatedly, trying to recall why he had come upstairs. "The gala, we have to go. W-we can sort this out later." Bruce gently guided Y/n out of the room, stealing a glance back at the bound Ken before closing the door.

The siblings lounged on the couch, waiting for Bruce to come downstairs with their brother. It had already been 20 minutes since Bruce left. "Do we even have to go to the stupid gala? I mean, we're probably hella late..." Jason chimed in, playing with Dick's kendama. "Honestly, I don't even know. I'd be fine staying here and binging one of Y/n's movies," Dick commented, looking at his brother. "I'd never be bored enough to watch all of Y/n's movies," Tim added.

"What? Why not! Y/n's movies are amazing, especially the one where he's in the apocalypse!" Stephanie exclaimed, leaping from her spot on the floor. Damian hummed in agreement, "I like those, but his aquatic ones are even better. Besides, it's about something he truly enjoys..." Titus barked in apparent agreement. "Woah, woah, woah. His high school drama movies are a hundred times better than all of those combined!" Jason interjected, discarding the kendama as his interest waned. "Jason!" Dick shouted, diving to catch the toy he had been eagerly waiting for (another story for another time). And everyone protested, disagreeing with Jason's opinion. Their debate was abruptly interrupted by a boisterous voice exclaiming, "We're back!" Y/n excitedly raised their hands in the air, sprinting down the stairs and heading straight for the door. "I call shotgun, come on Alfred!" Y/n surprised the butler, dragging him towards the waiting limousine outside.

"What? That's not fair!" Duke leaped over the couch, desperately trying to secure the next best seat. This triggered a chain reaction, causing the entire group to scramble towards the door. Bruce could only watch in despair, attempting to ignore the shouts and cries coming from Y/n’s “victim”.

"Fine... let's get this show on the road..." Bruce mumbled wearily, resigned to their chaotic adventure.

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ktkat99 · 5 months

Text

Reverse Robins prompt if you're looking

Batman swears he doesn't want a partner. Until he meets Damian. Talia drops him off to be raised by Bruce and, as Bruce has no other kids, the two are free to train as they pleased. Damian grows up and moves out, taking his own section of Gotham to protect under his new, adult identity.

Batman, struggling to get himself reaccustomed to working without a partner, meets Tim.

Tim knows who they are and has been following them, taking pics and copying their moves to teach himself martial arts for years.

He's seen Batman having trouble and insists that he needs a new Robin.

Him.

After protesting and trying to chase him away, Bruce finds out just how alone Tim is at home and decides to take him up on it.

Damian feels replaced and is immediately antagonistic to Tim.

He hates how happy the damn kid always is.

He hates how Bruce is spending more time training him.

He hates how Alfred has changed typical meals that Bruce liked to remove seafood, which Tim is allergic to.

When Tim asks to train with him, Damian goes far too hard on him.

When Tim sleeps over and eventually moves in, having officially been adopted, Damian wastes no opportunity to remind him who the Blood Son is, and tell Tim that he's just a stand-in. Basically cannon fodder. Bruce didn't *really* love him. He'd just needed a soldier.

Over the next few years, Tim gradually grows stronger, but also more withdrawn and depressed.

Bruce takes in Jason and Tim starts going solo on patrol, but he always makes time to train/hang out with/play with Jason, wanting to be the big brother Damian had never been to him.

And then one night Tim never returns to the cave.

There's no call.

No heads up.

No distress signal.

No one knows where he is.

No one can find him.

Damian insists Tim must have just left and openly mocks him for trying to get attention or having not had the spine to quit face to face.

Until Damian finds him three weeks later, having been captured, tortured, and turned into Joker Jr.

Damian is horrified and ends up killing the Joker to save Tim, but its too late.

Tim dies in his arms waiting for help to arrive.

They're all grieving and devastated, but no one besides Jason blames Damian for Tim's death to his face, making Damian feel even worse.

He blames himself for not helping search for Tim.

He blames himself for failing to save him.

He blames himself for being a bully, rather than a brother.

He finally has to take a break from being a vigilante and moves back to Nanda Parbat, throwing himself into his training and confessing what happened to his mother and grandfather.

When he's feeling able to resume his job again, Damian moves back to the manor and life goes on as much as it can.

They all still miss Tim.

But they're learning to live without him.

Talia and Ra's, seeing how rattled and off his game Damian was, decide to follow him back to Gotham, steal Tim's body, and see if they can revive him in a Lazarus Pit.

Tim comes back to life, but instead of returning home immediately, he watches them from a distance.

Damian has moved back home to the manor, despite having an apartment in the city.

Despite Bruce still having Jason.

Tim remembers how Damian used to treat him, all because he was adopted, and gets angry.

He becomes Red Hood, but while Jason!Red Hood's problem was that he wasn't avenged, Tim!Red Hood is more concerned with saving Jason from the abuse he had to endure from Damian.

He breaks into the manor one night as Red Hood, making sure to avoid every trap and alarm while still leaving obvious signs all over the cave and the manor, wanting to send the message 'I know you're Batman. I was in your house while you were asleep. I'm dangerous, and I know all your tricks.'

And then he goes upstairs to kidnap Jason.

Jason is overjoyed to find out Tim is alive, but right as Tim's about to take him and leave, another little kid is suddenly in the room.

Jason explains that Dick recently lost his family and Bruce took him in.

Tim knows he has to save both boys, but now is also even more caught off guard.

He'd spent so long trying to tell Damian that he was wrong, that Bruce really did love him like a son.

But the fact that he'd not only been replaced, but Bruce was still sending kids into battle, even after what happened to him was too much.

Tim tries to kidnap them both, but Dick, who's never met Tim before, gets scared and runs to Damians room for help.

Damian fights off the intruder, but then Tim's helmet falls off/Jason says his name/Damian recognizes the fighting style/he somehow finds out that he's fighting Tim and freezes, allowing him to escape.

Damian is shocked that Tim's alive and he and Bruce work to find him and bring him home.

Only, Tim doesn't want to come home.

Not when Damian is there.

Not with Bruce and Alfred, who never did enough to protect him.

But...

He finally accepts, solely to protect Jason and Dick.

So the family gets to work towards the second chance they never thought they'd get, Tim gets a family who loves him, and Jason and Dick get a very protective older brother.

#batman #tim drake #batfam #dick grayson #jason todd #bruce wayne #damian wayne #reverse robins #nightwing #robin #red robin #red hood #prompt #writing prompts #feel free to use #or just enjoy the vague story

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 10 months

Note

Arranged childhood?

Got this one first... and I have like 15 more so. Yeehaw.

"Ma'am?" Alfred said, interrupting your tea with your mother and a few other ladies that Bruce had asked you to do, "I'm afraid you have a quite urgent phone call."

"Did they say-"

"They said they wouldn't speak to anyone but you," he said. "But they did say that it involves Sister Mary Cathrine."

"Excuse me for a moment," you tell your guests, giving them an apologetic smile. "Please. Make yourselves at home for a moment, Alfred would you-"

"Of course," he said, watching you go, frowning slightly. You're maintaining well but obviously frazzled. And worried.

And for a few moments, Alfred continued to tend to your guests, pouring tea and generally being seen but not heard- a great way to gather information. But when questioned by the others, Samara didn't seem to know who Sister Mary Cathrine was. Though, of course she said all the right things- all motherly concern and confusion.

You return after some minutes, and for a moment, Alfred is alarmed. Your public face is nearly entirely gone and you look distressed. "Ladies I'm sorry I-" You start and break off when your voice cracks.

"Well you're not leaving," Samara said, "Honestly what could-"

"Sister Mary Cathrine is dead and I-"

"Why would that matter, sweetheart?" Samara said, eyes narrowing.

"She was my first art teacher," you manage, allowing one of the other women to put you in a chair. The strain of keeping some shred of your composure evident on your face. And Alfred filled a teacup for you, deftly adding a little sugar and some lemon.

"Oh no," one of the other ladies said. An older woman whose name escaped Alfred for a moment. Some sister or whoever of Falcone's. "No wonder you're upset," she said, patting your hand. "Those teachers can be so important to a young lady-"

"I remember we paid her to teach you to paint pretty landscapes-"

"Mother, please," you say, voice brittle. "Ladies, please excuse me- I-I should call my husband. To see if- I should go to them- I-"

"Of course," was the general consensus. Except from your mother who was too busy pretending she wasn't furious with you.

"Please," you tell them. "Enjoy the rest of your tea. I'm so sorry-" And before you could trip over yourself anymore, you left the room.

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #ask answered #reader insert #minors dni #arranged!verse2.0

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queenmxkealson · 10 months

Text

A little peak of the prologue

𝙰𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚕 𝟷𝟺𝚝𝚑....

The cloaked figure quietly leaped over the gate, taking care not to trigger any alarms or alert the security systems surrounding the manor.

The figure gazed down at the sleeping baby in their arms and evaded the lasers that would have triggered the security system. Once they reached the doorstep, they gently placed the basket with the baby inside and slipped the hard drive into the baby's hand.

The figure stopped and gazed at the baby, tenderly stroking her cheek. The figure then removed their hood and placed a gentle kiss on the baby's head. The baby looked up at the figure but began to cry when she heard the loud crash of thunder.

As the figure walked past a window, they noticed a small boy inside. The figure gave the boy a quick glance, noticing his black hair, blue eyes, and red hoodie. The person then put their hood back on before taking one last look at the baby and disappearing into the night.

The sound of crying caught the attention of the boy in the red hoodie, prompting him to open the door and investigate. Upon seeing the crying baby, the boy picked up the basket and called out for Alfred. The old man rushed in, responding to the teenager's distress. "Oh dear," Alfred said, looking at the baby in concern.

"Master Jason, bring the baby inside quickly!" Alfred urged, leading them indoors. "Please alert Master Bruce right away," Alfred instructed Jason. With the baby in his arms, Jason noticed how the baby snuggled into the warmth of Alfred's suit.

"Alright there little one, who might your parents be?" Alfred asked, looking into the baby's blue eyes. He then headed to the Batcave, where Bruce would be returning from patrol shortly. A few minutes later, the Batmobile pulled in, its growling engine causing the baby to cry. Alfred quickly soothed the baby by putting a white pacifier in her mouth.

"What's going on?" Bruce asked as soon as he got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. "Jason told me to hurry back on comms." Not noticing the baby, Bruce went straight to the Batcomputer and began typing in the details of tonight's actions.

"Master Bruce, it appears that someone has left a baby on the porch," Alfred informed Bruce, holding the baby in his arms. Bruce turned around to look at the baby. "Do we know who left her here?" Bruce asked. He then made a quiet noise, wondering if anything was left behind. "Did they leave anything else?" Bruce interrogated the butler. "Only five hard drives, sir," Alfred answered his question.

Jason approaches Bruce and hands him the hard drives and the basket containing the baby. Bruce instructs Jason to start a DNA sample on the baby to find out who her parents are, while he takes the hard drives.

Bruce inspects the hard drives before plugging them into the Bat-computer. He then takes a small glance at Jason, who is swabbing the baby's mouth with a q-tip and putting the DNA sample in the machine. "Hey old man the baby is your daughter," Jason tells Bruce.

Bruce stands up from his chair, surprised at the results on the screen. He checks for the mother, but it was inclusive. Bruce puts in the first hard drive which had files on the baby, who didn't have a name. "Take Jason to bed" Alfred understands what Bruce is thinking and takes Jason to bed.

He puts in the second hard drive as soon as he heard the elevator shut. This one explained who her family was. After he watches the rest of the harddrives he calls Alfred back in.

"I need you to set up a nursery in the meantime she'll sleep in my room"Bruce instructed the butler.

Bruce looked down at his daughter, He was struck with reality. He had a daughter and the opportunity to raise her. He could be the father he always knew he could be, the one his parents believed he was capable of becoming.

Then 3 words came out his mouth.

Elizabeth Martha Wayne

Here is the summary:

Beginning where it all began-come along with Liz Wayne throughout her younger years, from making acquaintances to more. She was found nestled on Bruce's doorstep as a baby and is, in fact, his biological child.

It’s not out yet but here is the first chapter the first book would most likely be dropped the end of July or August. So far I have 4 chapters, only 26-30 left.

@scorpionmotordemon

#batfam x sister reader #batsis #batman x child reader #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #bruce wayne x child reader #batman #nightwing #red hood #jason todd x sister!reader #tim drake x reader #bio dad bruce wayne

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batbusiness-schooldropout · 1 year

Text

Pt2 of Tim the sugar daddy

Jason in the kitchen rubbing his chest

Dick: What's wrong J? Did you get hurt last night?

Jason: I've had a weird feeling in my chest ever since I've talked with Bruce earlier

Dick: What about?

Jason: About Tim's mission to let Conner skinnydip in diamonds like Marilyn or whatever he's doing

Tim: IF THAT'S WHAT HE WANTS THAT'S WHAT HE GETS

Jason: QUIT EAVESDROPPING ON PEOPLE TALKING SHIT ABOUT YOU

Dick: *very tired sigh* Alfred, would you please take care of this? I don't think I can handle having to explain again

Jason: Again?

Damian: Yes. It appears you and I are suffering a similar affliction. Fraternal love for Drake

Jason: wot

Alfred: I'm afraid that is correct. Master Bruce had attempted to stop Tim from spending money on Young Conner and his every whim. Master Damian started to develop his symptoms after learning the lengths Master Tim is willing to go in order to ensure that his partner will never be in want of anything.

Damian: It is very distressing.

Alfred: Quite. You'll both be pleased to know that your affliction is not terminal. However, there is no remedy except perhaps to visit every now and then so that you are not blindsided every time you hear of one of his exploits.

Jason:

Damian:

Dick:

Jason: That sick son of a bitch HE PLANNED THIS!

Tim: *evil laughter in the distance*

#can you bring your estranged brother home?#and have a sugar baby #tim says yes #batfam #just siblings being siblings #jason todd #red hood #dick grayson #nightwing #damian wayne #tim drake

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elizabethemerald · 1 year

Text

DP/DC Imbalanced Light

AO3

Duke was one of the first back to the Batcave when the message came through that Bruce was bringing in an injured child. He was quickly joined by the rest of the family. Most injured parties were brought straight to a hospital, no matter their age, so the entire Bat clan were curious about what made this case stand out. A potential new sibling was an all hands on deck sort of event.

Cass and Steph joined next, Dick was picking up Dr. Thompkins, Tim had been coordinating the Bats from the Cave so was already there. Jason and Damian would probably join later, they had been further out when the call came in but Duke doubted even the two angriest members of the family would miss out on the excitement.

Everyone currently in the cave gathered close when the Batmobile roared into the cave. Though they easily parted to allow Alfred through to Bruce’s side. The two of them pulled a young boy out of the side seat of the Batmobile. Duke grimaced behind his helmet. The kid may be the same age as Tim, or thereabouts, but he still looked far worse for wear. There was blood coating the front of his shirt and he looked far too small, like he hadn’t been eating properly.

With a gasp the boy in Bruce’s arms was jostled awake. He tried to squirm out of his hold, but Bruce managed to keep him in hand. Eventually the boy’s wild eyes settled on the Batfam and seemed to calm. He reached a shaky, blood covered hand out to the group as Bruce carried him toward the medical room in the Batcave.

“Signal? Wait, I need to talk to Signal! Signal!” The boy desperately cried, trying once again to fight his way out of Bruce’s hold.

Duke was honestly surprised that the kid was calling for him. Signal was hardly the best known of Gotham’s heroes and he felt like most kids were either interested in talking to one of the Robins considering they were usually closest in age, or to Nightwing because Dick was friendly. However with a kid clearly in distress Signal followed as Bruce carried the kid into the medical room.

“I need to talk to Signal.” The kid was telling Bruce, trying to push Alfred’s hands away from him.

“Danny, please-”

“No! I have to talk to him! I have to talk to him alone!”

Alfred looked carefully at the kid, Danny apparently, then stepped back.

“Please make the conversation quick. You are still in need of medical care, Master Daniel.”

“It’s Danny, and fine.”

Alfred and Bruce stepped out and the glass door of the medical room closed behind them. Duke however had eyes only for the kid in front of him. Danny was obviously in pain. He kept one hand pressed tightly to his chest, and a grimace on his face. There were also several scars that ran up his neck, the worst of which was the Litchenberg figures that crept up his neck and scattered across one side of his face, even going through one of his eyes. To Duke’s Ghost Vision the scars seemed to glow and pulse, as if still remembering the electricity that had caused them.

Danny looked at him desperately, fear marring his face as he nervously glanced towards where Bruce and Alfred had stepped out before meeting his gaze again. Duke wasn’t sure what he needed, but wanted to get this conversation over with before Dick arrived with Dr. Thompkins. She didn’t appreciate being kept waiting when she had a patient.

“So, your name is Danny right?” Duke asked.

“The forums say you’re a meta.” Danny asked instead of answering. His voice came out quiet and low as if he were telling a secret. “Is that true?”

Duke put out his hand, and created a small firework display across his palm with his photokinesis. It was the same trick he did when he ran into small scared children as Signal. Just something light and silly to break the tension and it did seem to bring Danny’s focus off his injuries.

“Yes, I’m a meta.”

“Everyone knows Batman hates metas.” Danny said, glancing nervously at the door again, his voice dropping further into a whisper. “Does he hate you? Are you forced to help him? Does he… do experiments on you?”

Duke let his hand drop out of sight of Danny as he lay on the bed in the med bay. He clenched his hand into a tight fist. Dammit Bruce. You and your stupid rules. He could see that Danny was clearly just about out of his mind with fear and just as obviously had some bad experiences that were weighing on him. Duke needed to calm him down enough for Alfred and Leslie to take of him and quickly. He took a deep breath and kept his voice soft as he started speaking.

“Batman doesn’t hate metas. He doesn’t like other heroes like Superman coming into Gotham when they don’t know how this city works. Many of our rogues are simply humans with mental illness. Even most of the goons are just poor people who are desperate for work. They don’t need some super powered demi-god smacking them down. And he’s eased up on that a lot recently.” Duke took a moment to gather his thoughts. He could hear Dick’s car driving into the cave and knew that Leslie Thompkins had arrived. “Batman has been nothing but kind to me since my parents died. He’s trained me to help protect the city I grew up in. He may not be perfect, but he won’t hurt you, and I won’t let him if he tries.”

Danny nodded a few times, his eyes downcast, as if trying to convince himself of something before he finally looked back up at Duke.

“I’m- I’m sort of like you.” Danny whispered. “I’m like a meta.”

The words seemed like they were physically painful for Danny to say, and considering how tightly most metas held onto the secret of their powers that wasn’t too surprising. Duke didn’t have the time to puzzle out what exactly “like a meta” meant as opposed to just being a meta, but he knew at least he could provide Danny with some comfort.

“Well, Danny, one meta to another, I promise you Batman won’t hurt you because of your power. While you’re here you’re safe.” Duke looked up as a knock sounded at the door to the med bay. He could see Leslie and Alfred standing on the other side of the glass door. “Agent A has helped me a lot when I’ve been injured and Dr. T has cared for a lot of people, including metas that have come through her clinic. You’ll be safe with them. May I let them in?”

Danny took just a moment longer to think about it before he nodded.

“Will you stay with me?” His words sounded so pained and scared that Duke couldn't help but agree immediately.

He opened the door for Alfred and Leslie, then turned his back to remove his helmet and apply a paper surgical mask. He scrubbed his hands just as the other two did before rejoining Danny at the bedside. Once the door was closed and the older two were getting ready, Duke addressed Danny.

“Is there anything about your physiology that would be different from a non meta?” He said the words loud enough to clue in the other two. Danny nodded and gripped the rails on the patient bed tightly in fear.

“My core temperature, heart rate and respiration rate are lower than a standard human’s.” He recited the words like he had rehearsed them many times. “My blood is considered a hazard and needs to be destroyed, preferably by incineration.”

“Is your blood radioactive?” Thompkins asked, her experience helping other metas would be invaluable with helping Danny.

“Radioactive?” Danny seemed confused by the question for a moment before shaking his head. “No, it’s uh, corrosive I think? Jazz didn't mention radioactivity when she gave me the script to memorize.”

Leslie carefully cut Danny free of his blood soaked hoodie and shirt. Duke again had to clench his hand into a fist at the sight of a Y shaped incision that spanned Danny’s entire torso. Like an autopsy. Or vivisection. The cut had been messily stitched and stapled closed, but Danny had clearly popped a few stitches when he panicked after seeing Bruce. Surrounding the largest injury were numerous scars. Small burns, stab wounds, the Litchenberg figures continued across his torso and several precise cuts that could only be the result of deliberate torture or experimentation.

Alfred raised his eyebrow, but didn’t comment as the two of them set to work examining the injuries. Leslie’s lips pressed into a thin line and she also kept her comments to herself. Danny seemed grateful for their reticence. Duke knew he had seen a lot of the worst of the worst during his time as a vigilante in Gotham, but this still pushed it to another level. Danny was as scarred as any of the Robins except for Jason.

The two healers worked quickly cleaning and dressing each of the wounds, though the largest still needed more work. The lights over head flickered with each deep breath Danny took as they cared for his injuries. Duke used his powers to keep the lights steady for their work.

“Master Danny, we will need to remove the old stitching and staples to properly close and stitch your largest injury.” Alfred said. “We can apply an IV to let you sleep through the procedure.”

Danny was already shaking his head.

“Doesn’t work on me.” He hissed out past his gritted teeth.

“We have meta-strength-”

“Doesn’t work on me.” Danny shook his head again. “Even the strongest painkillers and anesthetics burn off almost immediately.”

“You have an enhanced metabolism?” Leslie asked.

Danny shrugged, then pressed his head back against the pillow. “I was awake when mom did this to me, I can handle you fixing it awake too.”

He refused to look at anyone else in the room even as looks of fury and rage crossed each of their faces. He reached out blindly and Duke took his hand to hold. Leslie and Alfred grimaced but nodded. If they didn’t want Danny to bleed out they needed to fix the slap-dash stitches and staples.

Danny didn’t scream while they worked and while he gripped Duke’s hand tightly, he clearly wasn’t using even a portion of his full strength. The metal of the bed frame squeaked and whined in protest as he gripped it hard enough to leave a handprint in the metal.

Whatever Danny’s ability was combined with his own Ghost vision to create disturbing images flash around Danny’s body, like an after image on a dark night. Neither Alfred nor Leslie reacted, so it was clear Duke was the only person who could see them. Each lingered in his eyes for a moment before fading to nothingness before being replaced by the next.

He saw two people, one a woman and the other man with a build similar to Bruce’s leaning over Danny’s body, blades in their hands and macabre smiles etched into their faces. He saw a flaming crown burning in the air over Danny’s head. He saw two teens Danny’s age and someone only slightly older trying to lift and carry Danny while obviously fighting with someone.

Frozen fractals appeared in the afterimages, growing with each after image into twisting and writhing tentacles. This was the most painful part of the operation as the two healers worked to pull out a staple that had gone through his skin into his sternum. Danny arched his back, his breathing coming in slow pants. When he opened his eyes they glowed like Jason’s did. Danny’s ears grew pointed and where he was biting his lip to keep from screaming his fangs grew long and pointed. Finally Danny couldn’t take any more and blacked out fully, his eyes rolling back into his head.

For a short time the afterimages still burned their way into Duke’s vision. The fractal tentacles continued to writhe before fading. A man appeared before Duke, looking down at Danny’s body in distress. He was wearing a long, hooded cloak. In the next flash he was suddenly an old man, looking beaten and worn by the passage of time. Then he was suddenly a young child, younger even than Damian, staring down at Danny with that same distress clear on his face. Finally the man returned to his original age and looked up to meet Duke’s eyes. His head tilted to the side in curiosity before he glanced down at a pocket watch that was hanging from his cloak and gave it a firm nod and disappeared.

The last of the flickering images slowly vanished as well, Alfred and Leslie still not noticing them at all, as the two of them finished their work and settled a blanket over Danny’s heavily bandaged torso. Duke patted Danny’s limp hand with his own before he left the med bay. The rest of the Bat fam were gathered around, but Duke made his way straight to Bruce. As he went Cass came and put a supportive hand on his shoulder. He wondered idly what his body language was telling her that had her reaching out at this moment.

“You need to do some serious PR work on Batman’s views of metas.” Duke said shortly to Bruce. He didn’t really care what his mentor’s motivations were, they needed to change and they needed to let the public know.

“The kid’s a meta?” Jason asked, leaning forward.

Duke nodded, still not taking his eyes off Bruce.

“I don’t know what he thought you would do to him, either run him off or cut him open.” Duke hesitated as he examined the momentary grief that appeared in Bruce’s eyes. “Again. Cut him open again. Someone vivisected him.”

A sharp noise sounded as something snapped in Jason’s hands. Red Hood had green light blazing in his eyes as Dick immediately moved to grab his shoulder, whether to comfort him or to hold him back, Duke didn’t know. Bruce leaned forward, his face once again stoic.

“What are your thoughts on his abilities?” He asked.

If Duke wasn't so suddenly exhausted he would either roll his eyes or join Jason in trying to tear Bruce a new one. Of course when he’s distressed he falls back on old, bad habits. Examining threats and planning counter plans.

“Alfred and Leslie know enough about him to care for him for now. You can ask about the rest of his powers once he’s up and about.” Duke said. He wasn’t going to reveal Danny’s clearly hard fought secrets. “The one thing I will say is that while we can expect him to be fragile, we cannot treat him with kid gloves. Danny’s got more scars than anyone I’ve ever seen who isn’t a bat. He’s clearly a fighter and deserves to be treated like one.”

Duke turned away. He needed to be done. He needed to just shut his brain off for a little.

“I’m taking the next couple of days off patrol. Can someone cover for me?”

He was half afraid that someone would accuse him of trying to cheat his way into the spot of best brother for their new potential sibling. Instead Stephanie and Dick immediately volunteered to help cover some of the daylight patrols.

Duke walked away, calling the shadows of the cave to him. With a family half raised or trained by ninjas they were all used to using the shadows and darkness to their advantage. But none of them could command the shadows and make the darkness answer their call like Duke could. The darkness of the cave swallowed him, hiding him completely from sight as he searched for some place to sit and think about everything he had just seen. Everything that Danny must have gone through.

@starkcravingmad, @blacksea21090, @rainybyday

#Danny Phantom #batman #duke thomas #mistaken identity #team phantom researched Gotham before Danny left to hide and recover there #they determined that Signal would be someone safe to possibly reach out as long Danny could pretend he was a meta not a ghost #let me know what you think #and please reblog!

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idontunderstandchemistry · 1 year

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Uncomfortable - Tim Drake (1/3)

Summary: [...] "Are you saying you are afraid of me?" "I wouldn't say afraid" Dick said, trying to sound casual "It's just the way you've been talking about everything these days. It makes everyone feel..." "Uncomfortable?" Tim asked, with a bitter grin, finally turning towards Dick "The probable consequences of what you all say and do to me make you uncomfortable, Dick?" [...] Extremely hurt Tim Drake living out of coffee and spite.

Wordcount: 1.5K

Content Warnings: Angst; suicide idealization, mentions of self harm, etc.

Notes: Finally dropping this here, posted the first chapter on Ao3 a couple days ago. Hope you guys enjoy it! Reblogs and likes are very much appreciated ❣️

Part 2 - Part 3

CHAPTER 1 - COFFEE.

Red Robin stared at the screen with sleepy eyes. He'd already found the solution to this case half an hour ago, but pretending he didn't was the only way to avoid being requested at the post patrol circus going on upstairs.

It was always like this, at least it has been since he came back to live in the mansion. There was the patrol, and after, Alfred would prepare a table with many treats for the family to eat while he patched them up.

What a perfect, happy family, bonding after some quality time kicking criminal ass.

A herd of hypocrites.

Two of them tried to kill him and most of them didn't seem to give a single fuck about the matter.

But what was he expecting, anyway? He was the unwanted child. He crawled his way into this family when Bruce was too vulnerable to deny it, grieving, he was Jason's replacement, after all. The only reason why he was still allowed among the bats of Gotham was his hypercompetence. Or perhaps it was because of how dangerous it would be for them all if he decided to play for the other team.

If you didn't fear the man who at the age of nine deduced the identity of the world's best detective, you were a fool. Yeah Bruce was a bad, emotionally distant parental figure, but he was no fool, and Tim had to give him the credit for that.

— Drake — Robin said.

Tim felt the ferrous taste of blood filling his mouth. The demon. He pretended not to hear. He wanted nothing with this damn child. This Demoniac being that had tried to kill him multiple times in the last few years. The kid who had never done anything to deserve being Robin, the title for whom Tim has worked so hard for years.

— Alfred asked if you plan on joining the rest of the family anytime soon — The little boy said with his entitled filled tone. Fucking psychopath.

— I am working — Red Robin simply said.

— You're not fooling anyone, Drake — He said, stepping closer to his brother — Staring at a screen isn't working.

— You say like you know anything about working — Tim answered, after a deep sigh — Please, leave me alone. Tell them whatever you want, say that I threatened you with a knife, that I pushed you towards a wall, whatever you want. Just leave me alone.

— You say like they would believe it.

Damian said nothing else, simply left without any other response from Tim, that sighed deeply and continued staring at the screen.

His eyes felt heavier.

“Funny” thing about feeling down: usually, the brain cannot understand the emotional distress and the body intentionally does things to justificate that distress to its brain.

Some people cut themselves – Tim couldn't do that, Alfred would ask too many questions –; others refused to eat – Tim tried it, but it didn't really fit his lifestyle –; some people drank 'til they tripped and fall — He could do this, but the posterior headaches weren't worth it, even though this is Gotham City and he could easily find a place that sells alcohol to minors – ; some people over exercised until they couldn't stand anymore, hoping the soreness of their muscles would be enough to feel like their pain is valid; some people took dangerous car drives or tried to equilibrate themselves on the edges of rooftops – These were Dick's things –; some people numb themselves with smoke on his lungs – Tim could do this, but refused. This was Jason's thing, and he didn't want to have anything in common with Jason.

So, to try to justify his pain to himself, Tim never slept. Well, of course he slept, he had to, but he always avoided it. This was his way of self punishment. He could almost hear his brain.

“What do you mean your emotions are shit? No, this is not a good reason for all this distress. Here, have a unusual way of self harm and then I'll consider if it is enough or not”

Tim hasn't really slept in the last four days, not more than an hour or two. There were occasional long blinks, but whenever Alfred decided to try to drug his coffee – His best ally in his attempts of making the pain make sense – and sent him to his bedroom, he would only stare at the ceiling. Tim already had it memorised. Then he would close his eyes when he could hear footsteps approaching his door and pretend to be asleep until whoever Alfred sent to spy on him finally left.

A solitary life, it was, but he didn't mind. Since his childhood, loneliness was mostly everything Timothy Jackson Drake knew. His most loyal companion.

— Hey, buddy — Nightwing's voice echoed in Tim's ears.

Fucking traitor.

The man with the kind smile that was responsible for half of the mud in which Tim found himself stuck. The man who took away from Tim the only thing that kept him standing, the only thing that mattered for him in a long time. This was the Dick Grayson, the “good fella”, Bruce's golden child, “The clearer version of what Batman was meant to be”. Dick Fucking Grayson.

Again, Tim pretended not to hear.

— Dames said you were still working. Don't you think it is time for a break?

— I'm not tired — Tim said, though Dick wasn't dumb enough to believe it. Anyone that looked into Tim's face would see how fucking tired he was. Deep and dark eyebags, hollowed expressions in his eyes, cheeks slightly inwards like the corpse of a very thin woman. Dick sighed.

— I know, but B misses you. We all miss you. And we are worried.

— There's nothing to worry about — Tim said, simply.

Dick sighed again and pulled his chair closer to Tim.

Fuck . He had to lecture Tim right now, of course. He simply couldn't deny the urge of being the reasonable older brother, the inspirational hero, the right one, the mediator of the family.

— Let's be honest, Little Wing...

— Don't call me little wing.

— Tim, we are worried about you — Dick said, Tim never looked at his face, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop himself from rolling his eyes if he did. He couldn't stand Dick Grayson's hypocrite smile and kind eyes anymore. He could barely stand his voice — What you said today during patrol... That joke....

— Joke? — Tim asked, furrowing his brows. He didn't remember telling a joke.

— You know, buddy. That one about the metro-narrows bridge.

Oh . That.

It wasn't a joke. More likely a loud thought.

Tim remembered that. He said that if Damian called him “unworthy” again, he would simply throw himself from the top of metro-narrows bridge, towards the cars.

Tim has been "telling these jokes" for weeks now.

— Even Dames stepped back. Everyone did, actually. The family...

— Are you saying you are afraid of me?

— I wouldn't say afraid — Dick said, trying to sound casual — It's just the way you've been talking about everything these days. It makes everyone feel...

— Uncomfortable? — Tim asked, with a bitter grin, finally turning towards Dick. He could see the surprise in his brother's eyes. Or was it something else? Tim's guts were absolutely soaked in rage now — The probable consequences of what you all say and do to me make you uncomfortable, Dick? You can't bear the guilt? Or you're just worried your Robin will have to deal with the responsibility of the death of his predecessor?

Dick said nothing. Just sighed. Dick Grayson knew the battles he couldn't win. Dick put a mug in front of Tim. His favourite mug, filled with the dark liquid in which Tim loved to drown himself.

— We can talk later — The elder said — Jason made you coffee. He said you wouldn't want to have a break. Guess he knows you better than the rest of us.

— The perks of trying to slit someone's throat — Tim said completely out of spite, just to see Dick flinch in discomfort.

— Just drink before it gets cold, okay?

Dick left and Tim decided to not make another comment.

Red Robin stared at the mug in front of him, wondering if Jason poured poison into the liquid or Alfred poured the sleep drugs. Either way, there was no chance Tim would let it get into his system. He turned off the screen and grabbed the mug, walking towards his bedroom. In his room already, Tim locked the door and poured the coffee into his bathroom sink.

After taking a shower – He wasn't that bad that he would deny himself a simple shower, although he doubted it would take long to reach this point – He verified all the hidden spots in his room. Behind the curtains, his closet, under his bed. After making sure Jason wasn't there hidden with a knife, he slid between his sheets, soft and smooth.

Red Robin stared at the ceiling of the room where some years ago, lived Timothy Jackson Drake.

#tim drake #timothy drake #tim drake angst #batfamily #honestly i just think this boy's emotions need to be validated #and since DC decided to do nothing about it #here i am #angst #batfamily angst #red robin

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cardcaptorsakura96 · 5 months

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Taxes, Taxes, Taxes- Chapter 10

Fandom: Supergirl

Characters: Kara Danvers, Clark Kent, Samantha Arias, Lena Luthor, Lillian Luthor, Ruby Arias, Oliver Queen, John Stewart, Diana Prince, Bruce Wayne, Barry Allen, J'onn J'onnz, Alfred Pennyworth, Lois Lane, Cat Grant

Summary: What if superheroes had to pay a property damage tax every time they had a fight in the city?

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9

As Kara flew, she replayed over and over again what Clark had just said to her.

I just received a distress signal on my device from my mom. It looks like it is coming from the farm. I am still far out in space and won’t make it in time. Please hurry and help her!

Martha Kent was the first one who welcomed Kara to Earth. She was actually the one who found her when she crash-landed on the planet. She was so kind and loving which was something Kara so desperately needed after seeing her own world shatter before her very eyes. Once Kara got settled at the farm, Martha immediately told Clark about her.

It wasn’t that Clark wasn’t welcoming. He was more cautious. Kara was initially understanding at first. Unfortunately, Zod had come before her and caused havoc on Earth. After Clark sent him to the phantom zone, it took him over a year to rebuild people’s trust in him. Now, he had Kara, a new Kryptonian popping into his life, and he wasn’t sure what her intentions were. Every time he looked at Kara, he seemed conflicted about how to respond. So she gave him space. She stayed at the farm while Clark continued his life in Metropolis. It wasn’t bad. Martha was a second mother to her. She would offer her advice and help her acclimate to society. Kara knows that part of the reason that they bonded was through their tragic losses. Kara had lost everything she knew, and Martha had just lost the love of her life. They leaned on each other to try to continue living. They talked about everything, but the thing that made her the most happy was Martha’s willingness to listen to her tales of Krypton. Clark avoided the subject like the plague, but Martha fully immersed herself. She listened eagerly through all her stories and a lot of the literature that the Fortress of Solitude had. She had also started to learn Kryptonian. She was at a beginner level still, but it made Kara’s heart swell that there was someone else with whom she could converse in her mother language. She couldn’t imagine another person in her life being taken again after everything she went through.

Kara went as fast as she could. She thinks that she broke Mach 5 which she knows will put her in the DEO and possibly the IRS radar again especially if there was property damage. However, Kara didn’t give a damn. She needed to make sure Martha was safe. When she saw the farm in her field of vision, she had to fight her instinct to burst through the door. She remembered how being rash just weeks before nearly led to her almost losing her and Barry’s life, and she didn’t want the same thing to happen to Martha. She flew around the farm while using her X-ray vision. She didn’t see anything unusual until she saw the house. What she saw caused her to go from being frighten to more confused than anything else. She landed as gently as she could on the ground (due to Martha going off on both Clark and Kara for leaving craters across her lawn) and quickly walked to the house. She looked under the mat on the porch to get the spare key and entered the house. She heard noises coming from the kitchen and followed them. Once she got there, she saw Clark in his Superman costume sitting next to an embarrassed Martha in a robe at the kitchen table.

She scanned the room and noticed that there were two long-stemmed candles in the middle of the table and two plates that had little bits of half-eaten food on them. Next to the plates were two wine glasses. One was empty and the other was a quarter of the way full. There were rose petals on the floor that led out of the kitchen into the hallway. If she had to guess, Kara thinks they probably lead to Martha’s bedroom. She then looked back and forth between Clark and Martha once more. Martha still looked like she wanted to crawl into a hole and die somewhere. Clark had an unnerving look about him. She had seen that look before when he was about to go into a rage. She can tell that he is holding back by the way he is gripping the table. Considering that it is made from nth metal (the strongest in the galaxy) and was starting to bend slightly tells her that something happened. She had a pretty good idea of what happened but didn’t want to assume.

Please let this idiot not have called me because his mother actually decided to have a love life.

She looked back and forth between them hesitantly and said, “Clark, you told me to come here because there was an emergency, but it doesn’t seem like there is one taking place. Was the emergency device activated in error or did something else happen?”

Clark stared at her coldly for a moment and said, “Since I brought you in, I didn’t expect much, but I damn well-expected loyalty.”

Kara looked back at him shocked, and said, “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

Clark sneered at her and said, “Don’t feign innocence with me. You know what you did, and I need you to terminate the contract you have with them right now.”

Kara looked at him surprised for a minute and then it dawned on her.

Don’t tell me this whiny bitch went to tattle on me to mommy.

Kara clenched her fist. She knew that Clark would get irritated. That was her goal, but she hated that Martha got dragged into this mess and ruined her evening. She took a deep breath to try to keep calm.

Kara forced a smile and said, “I am taking a guess you heard about my partnership with the hospital.”

Clark slammed his hand on the table and yelled, “You’re damn right! You took a job with the enemy!”

Martha looked confused between Kara and Clark and said, “I don’t understand. How is working at the hospital some type of betrayal?”

Clark turned to Martha with a disgusted look while pointing his finger directly at Kara.

“You always defended her saying that she came to Earth to do no harm and that we should trust her. But she has been working with the enemy this whole time.”

“And who exactly is the enemy?” asked Martha hesitantly.

Clark turned towards Kara and spat, “Lena Luthor.”

“Lena is a civilian who runs the local hospital for children in my area. There are no records of her doing anything nefarious or the hospital for that matter. She is not only smart but very kind-hearted,” said Kara lofty.

Clark smirked and said, “Oh, I thought that you were smart enough not to get sucked into the Luthor’s charm. They appear nice, but they are nothing but a bunch of vipers.”

Kara smirked and said, “I didn’t realize that you have a grudge against anyone last named Luthor. Doesn’t this go against the Almighty Superman’s policy about tolerance and acceptance?”

“They deserve nothing from us!” exclaimed Clark.

Kara raised an eyebrow and asked, “Are you really going to let your hatred for one person spread to everyone else?”

Clark shook his head, scoffed, and said, “I knew that you would be unreasonable which is why I thought mom could talk some sense into you.”

He turned to his mom expecting some backup. However, when he looked at his mom, she stared at with with a rage in her eyes that caused his face to go pale.

“Mom, why….”

Martha held up her hand to silence him. He gulped and sat silent.

Kara had to stop herself from bursting out laughing.

Can’t believe he is such a mama’s boy.

Martha rubbed the back of her head for a moment and turned to look back at Clark with an angry glare in her eyes which caused him to back up a little.

“Let me see if I understand this. You forced me to hurry out of bed and didn’t give me a chance to put on any clothes because of some big emergency….”

“But mom…”

“Excuse me, did I say that I was finished speaking?”

Clark looked down and said, “No ma’am.”

“I thought so. You bring me out here half dress because you said that Kara was in some type of crisis and all of this is because she is working with Lena Luthor? You have known Lena all of her life. Where the hell is all of this aggression coming from?”

That last statement piqued Kara’s interest.

Kara frowned and asked, “Wait. Martha is making it sound like that not only have you known each other for a while, but you have at least been friendly towards one another in the past.”

Read the rest on AO3

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jiminsbabexxx · 2 years

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Afraid

Afraid Part 2

“So then where’s Barbara, Alfred?” You asked, laying down on the large white couch. “Last I heard Barbara left the city per officer Gordon’s request.” Alfred said. You knew Barbara was vulnerable but she by no means was a damsel in distress, neither were you. “Sir, that tank they have backing them up is unmanned.” Alfred said into the ear piece. “Good.” Bruce said, you walking closer to Alfred. “What’s going on?” You asked.

“Your father seems to have Ivy, and is stopped by some of the militia.” Alfred said. “Something about tonight doesn’t feel good Alfred.” You said, Alfred nodding. “I would say the same Miss Y/N.” Alfred said.

43 minutes into the night and you were watching a live feed of Bruce, even though he pissed you off and didn’t let you patrol you wanted to make sure he wasn’t dead. “Where’s this?” You asked. “ACE Chemicals, master Bruce has tracked the militia there.” Alfred said. “Keep your guns trained on him. If he even looks like he’s planning to leave that room open fire. Oh, and avoid the Bat Symbol. That’s a... a little trick. That’s where his armor’s the strongest. Aim for the weak spots at the shoulders first then coordinate fire at the points where the plates meet.” Arkham Knight said, you giving a confused face. “Who is he, and how does he know so much about dad?” You asked. “That is the Arkham Knight, and we don’t know who he is yet?” Alfred said.

“Please.” Mark Cheung said. “Did you say something?” Arkham Knight asked. “Leave him out of this.” Bruce said. “Always defending the weak and the helpless. That’s what I like about you. Predictable. That’s why we are going to win. We know your move before you do. We know how you think.” Arkham Knight said, you getting frustrated. “Who the fuck is this guy?!” You asked, Alfred rolling his eyes. “I won’t tell your father, but language.” Alfred said, you huffing.

Bruce always reprimanded you on your mouth, always saying that you talked just like Jason. “Do you know what I’m thinking right now?” Bruce asked. “Of course. You’re thinking, Who the hell is this guy?” Arkham Knight said, you rolling your eyes. “He’s cocky.” You said, Alfred nodding. “No, I’m just trying to decide which one of you I’m going to take out first.” Bruce said. “Just so we are both on the same page here, I fully... fully intend to kill you. But first we’re going to make you suffer.” Arkham Knight said.

“We have the target.” Arkham Knight said. “Who’s he talking to?” You asked. “I would assume Scarecrow.” Alfred said, you nodding. “Just say the word and I’ll end this now. Gotham will be ours.” Arkham Knight said. Bruce throwing something shattering the glass, causing the Knight to grapple away cutting the feed. “Is he okay?” You asked. “You’re father Is master Wayne, he will be okay.” Alfred said, turning around to look at you. “You’re right.” You said, sighing.

“I saw, sir. Initial scans indicate that the craft is unmanned and being controlled remotely.” Alfred said. “Weapon’s lock deactivated.” Bruce said. “Your father’s being attacked by the militia.” Alfred said. “Come on then, hero! Let’s see if you can keep up with me.” Arkham Knight said. “He really hates dad, doesn’t he?” You asked. “Sure seems that way.” Alfred said.

“Nice shooting. I wish I could be in there. But then, you know, you’d just hold back.” Arkham Knight said. “You haven’t won. Tonight you pay. For everything.” Arkham Knight said.

“This is it. All units evacuate the ACE Chemicals facility. I say again, this is the final evacuation order. Anyone left behind will die painfully and afraid. So move it!” Arkham Knight said. “All remaining units, rendezvous at the staging ground on the west island. Now!” Arkham Knight said. “You’ve done good work tonight, people. Gotham is ours.” Arkham Knight said. “Let me go, or she dies.” Scarecrow said. “What are you talking about?” Bruce asked, holding up Scarecrow. “Barbara Gordon.” Scarecrow said.

“Have you found him?” Barbara asked. “Get out of there! Now!” Bruce said. “Relax. No one knows I’m here.” Barbara said, the feed cutting off. “Alfred, this isn’t good.” You said, Alfred nodding. “Alfred.” Bruce said. “I heard what that maniac said to you, sir. I’ve been trying to contact Miss Gordon, unfortunately with no success.” Alfred said.

“What are you doing?! It’s too late. You can’t stop it!” Alfred said. “I know. I’m not trying to stop it. But I can reduce the blast radius.” Bruce said. “And what will happen to you?” Alfred asked. “That doesn’t matter. Find her, Alfred.” Bruce said. “Sir, I urge you to reconsider, evacuate now! If you’re caught in that blast you will die!” Alfred said. “There’s no other way, Alfred.” Bruce said. “There’s always a way, sir. Please...” Alfred said.

“Alfred.” Bruce said. “Oh thank God. When the explosion... I thought you might be...” Alfred said. “It’s okay, Alfred. I managed to reduce the blast radius and prevented the toxin from spreading into the city.” Bruce said. “But what about Scarecrow? Or this... Arkham Knight character? They’ve got tanks, missiles... their forces are all over Gotham.” Alfred said. “Crane got away. I was exposed to his toxin.” Bruce said. “Good lord, are you alright? Remember what happened at the Asylum?” Alfred asked, you looking up at him. “It’s ok. I had a bad reaction, but it’s over now.” Bruce said.

“Alfred, analyze the militia forces-troop deployments, equipment, movements. I want to know exactly what I’m up against.” Bruce said. “I’ll perform a full analysis of the occupying forces and report back shortly, sir.” Alfred said.

“Pursing forces, this is Arkham Knight. Your priority is to apprehend Commissioner Gordon. I say again, your priority is to apprehend the Commissioner.” Arkham Knight said. “Dad fighting off tanks, pretty badass.” You said, Alfred smiling. “I want him alive. Let nothing stand in your way.” Arkham Knight said.

“I’m impressed. But your tricks don’t stay new for long, Batman.” Arkham Knight said.

“Alfred, I want the Arkham Knights name.” Bruce said. “As do I, Master Bruce. He has presumably chosen that title for a reason-where do you suggest we start?” Alfred asked. “Arkham City. Go through the files of every inmate who was released following the death of Hugo Strange.” Bruce said. “And Alfred?” Bruce asked. “Sir?” Alfred asked. “They knew about Barbara. Activate the Batcave’s security protocols. Don’t drop your guard. Oh, and tell Y/N to suit up I’m going to need her help looking for Barbara.” Bruce said, you jumping up. “I’m on my way.” You said. “I’m sending you the locations as I’m looking.” Bruce said.

“Ow, what the fuck?” You groaned, sitting up. “Y/N!” Barbara yelled, you taking in your surroundings. “Barb, where the fuck are we?” You asked. “You found me, there was a car crash I caused it.” Barbara said, you looking confused. “You caused it?” You asked, Barbara nodded. “Pepper sprayed the driver, caused us to crash, you were nearby tried to pick me up after I jumped out of the car but Knight was right behind you knocked you out and brought you and me here.” Barbara said.

“That fucking Knight.” You said, Knight walking in. “I heard my name, is there an issue?” Knight asked, you rolling your eyes. “Is there an issue, fuck you.” You mocked, Knight walking closer to you. “Oh your a feisty one huh, this’ll be fun.” Knight said. “What’s your name?” Knight asked. “Why the fuck would I tell you.” You said, Knight chucking.

“Barbara, what’s her name?” Knight asked, Barbara staying silent. “Okay, tell me what her name is or I blow her brains out.” Knight said, holding you up by your hair gun to your temple. “Alright alright, she’s Bruce’s daughter.” Barbara said, you looking at her shocked. “Barb!” you said. “Bruce doesn’t have a daughter.” Knight said. “It’s his and Selina’s.” Barbara said.

“Are you two hurt?” Knight asked. “Why the fuck do you care?” You asked. “You two are supposed to keep talking. Play for time. That’s what he taught you, right?” Knight asked. “We have nothing else to say to you.” Barbara said. “I talked for hours. Cause I know, right? Batman was on his way to save me. The bastard let me talk... eventually I just, ran out of things to say. So trust me. You can’t count on Bruce to save you.” Knight said. “Wait.” You said, starting to catch on.

“Scarecrow doesn’t know. It’s our little secret. Now here’s another. Batman likes to play the hero, and he’s pretty good at it. But’s it’s an act. Batman’s not about saving the innocent. He’s about punishing the guilty.” Knight said. “Now, don’t get me wrong. He’ll look for you. Or he’ll try. But when it comes down to it, when he has to make a choice between you, and the mission? He’ll choose the mission. Every time.” Knight said. “You’re wrong.” Barbara said, you getting uneasy with everything the Knight said. I mean to be honest Bruce did leave you for 18 years, who’s to say he won’t think you’re a liability now. “Look me in the eye and say that.” Knight said, putting his mask up. “Jason?” Barbara asked.

And then it all clicked, how he knew so much about Bruce. You felt your blood run cold, it was him. The same guy that was the reason why you had to have a tracker in your arm because Bruce thought you were too much like him, and in some sick way the one who potentially took your own father from you. “Jason, this is wrong!” Barbara said. “This is justice! He left me!” Jason said. Justice?

And Bruce left him, just like how he left you. This was the side of the story you’d never heard, Bruce never wanting to bring it up and Dick only telling the sane parts. “He LOST you! And he mourned for you. Come home.” Barbara said. Lost? That was a funny way to put it, maybe that’s why Bruce stays sane maybe he says that he just lost you too. “I can’t go back. You don’t know what Joker did, Barbara. He hollowed me out and filled me back up with hate and...” Jason said.

“Jason, we can fix it...” Barbara said. “I can fix it! I know now what to do. I take all the pain, all this blackness, and put it all in a bullet, and I put it right between Bruce’s eyes.” Jason yelled, you and Barbara jumping. “Joker’s dead, Jason. You want revenge on the man who hurt you? You’ve got one shot. Come back to the manor. Let us help you. Don’t let Joker win.” Barbara said. “... How’s Alfred?” Jason asked. “He misses you. We all do.” Barbara said. “Y/N Y/N, come in Y/N are you okay?!” Dick yelled into your earpiece, Jason’s eyes flying to you.

“What the fuck is that?!” Jason asked. “None of your business.” You said, Jason walking up to you. “I said what the fuck is that!” Jason yelled, grabbing you by your hair. “And I said none of your fucking business!” You yelled back, Jason smirking at you. “I think I should deal with this attitude in private.” Jason said, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder. “Don’t worry Barb I’ll bring her back alive, maybe.” Jason said, walking out of the room.

Song ~ Do I Wanna Know? By Arctic Monkeys

#arkham knight x reader #arkham knight smut #red hood x you #jason todd x you #jason todd fluff #arkham knight #jason todd smut #arkham knight x reader smut

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eupheme · 2 years

Text

Penny For Your Thoughts | Part 6.5 - Reconcile

masterlist

Alfred Pennyworth x F!Reader

Rated E - 7k

Tags - age gap, arguments, mentions of wounds (bruising), shower sex (please be careful), oral (f receiving), brief/light anal play, PiV, cum play

Summary: And suddenly, a lot of things begin to make sense.

The phone is answered with a swipe of this thumb, Alfred bringing the device up to his ear. A hurried conversation - each question and response short and clipped, his voice low and calm despite the worry etching in his face.

Where are you? Are you okay?

Yes.

Of course I can.

There’s the sound of another question, his eyes lifting to yours with it as he answers.

I am.

I really don’t think that’s a good-

His jaw closes - interrupted, teeth clenching.

Okay.

Stay there.

I’m on my way.

He exhales a long breath as the call ends, a fraction of the distress waning from his features.

“Was that Bruce?” You’re asking him, clammy fingers curling around his arm. Your own worry is still swirling - the pounding of your heart, a tightness in your throat, “Was he there, is he okay?”

“Yes,” His eyes are moving around the room, mind racing through next steps, what he needs to do. “I’m sorry but I need to go, darling.”

Crossing the living room in just a few steps, reaching for the coat he shed earlier. But you’re on his heels, fingers still trailing after him, reaching out.

“Can I go with you?”

He halts, head turning slowly towards you. Brow pinching as his lips part - something running through his mind that you don’t understand.

You’re bending - reaching for your boots, determined, “I can help.”

There’s uncertainty in his eyes, you can see that now that he’s close. You assume it’s for Bruce, not understanding the depth of your question, what his acceptance would mean.

Where tonight was leading - a moment he had never expected to arrive quite so soon. He’s not ready.

But Bruce needs his help.

“Please.”

His jaw closes with a click as he swallows, “I’m not sure what I’m going to find.”

Your head shakes, tugging your own jacket from the coat rack, checking the house keys shoved deep in the pocket, “I don’t care. I want to help.”

The battle raging in his mind and heart settles. A decision, finally made. Almost a relief, after the weeks that have passed. If it has to happen, and it does - why not now?

A hand reaching for yours, warm and firm and enveloping, tugging you closer. A palm cupping your jaw, his head bowing as lips press against your forehead.

“Thank you.” The word breathed out, low and rough.

A determined look flickering in his eye - a path now set.

“Let’s go.”

———

You don’t ask where you’re going, silence settling in the car as he navigates the busy streets - Gotham always seemed to be bustling at all hours of the day. The sidewalks filled with small groups of people, vehicles lining the roads. Rain or shine, morning or night, the city lived on.

The apprehension in the car is almost palpable - thick and heavy, and you haven’t seen him quite like this before. Other than that night that you turned up at the Tower.

Worried waves roll off him, tension evident in his arms, his back. Strung tight enough to snap, eyes darting down on occasion to glance at his gold watch - his sleeves roughly shoved up, silver cufflinks discarded into a pocket so he could view the numbers flickering across the screen.

Coordinates maybe? You don’t ask, hands tucked under your thighs as you silently watch the streetlights passing by.

He gets caught up at a stoplight near the Gotham City Police Department - the lights from the building backlighting his face as you glance his way again. His expression pulled tight, anxiety written all across his face.

The light turns green, and he's pulling down a side street, and then another. Winding deeper, the bright city lights starting to fade. It's hard not to think of another night - the already accelerated beat of your heart thudding just a little bit faster at the memory.

But this is different. He's with you. You are helping him - or will try to, anyway.

"It's going to be okay." You offer quietly, the car beginning to slow. A hand on his arm, the muscles bunched under your fingers.

His expression softens, his eyes glancing at yours. The soft rasp of his voice, "I know, dove. I trust you."

The response one you're not quite expecting, the confusion deeping when you realize the car has now stopped.

You'd been expecting to be close to the Cathedral, that maybe he knew a shorter route. But this is far from it - the engine idling at the mouth of a dark alley, so deep that you can't see the end.

The darkness seems to grow the more you look into it, an ominous looming, a void - and you find yourself glancing back at Alfred. He's turning the car off, his fingers on the door handle.

"Is-," You ask, already hearing the tremble in your voice, "Is he down there?"

"Yes."

You swallow. It doesn't make sense, "How did he get there?"

"I don't know. But I need to find out." His fingers slide, falling from the handle, finding yours, "You can stay here. It’s okay, I understand."

He's not baiting you, there's no trick, no underhanded message to his suggestion. It's genuine - knowing that just because he has to head into the unknown, it doesn't mean you need to, too.

And it's his understanding that has you inhaling a short breath, opening your own door. Stepping out into the drizzle, tugging up the hood of your coat.

Taking his arm, you follow him into the dark. Each step feeling like you're fighting gravity, like the ground is trying to anchor you to it. The further in the quieter it grows, until it's just the sound of rushing cars, the tape of his cane with each of your steps, just out of sync.

A crumpled, discarded can knocks against your foot and goes skittering - your hand going tense around his arm, fear catching your breath in your throat.

So deep between the walls now that the only light comes from above, from small windows scattered a few stories up. The bright red numbers on his watch, ominously counting down with each step.

He halts then, and you stop with him. A light coming from his phone as he switches on the flashlight app.

A slow sweep of the beam, starting high, swooping down low. Part of you doesn't even want to look. Shifting until you're pressing against the back of his shoulder, peering over it.

The light makes another pass until it snags on something large and curled on the asphalt - the light pausing on it before it drops.

His voice, still so low and calm - gentle instructions that only you can hear, "This might get a bit confusing, dove. But please try to stick with me, okay? I'm going to need your help."

You nod, your voice small, “Okay.”

Close on his heels as he moves to where his light lingered - a narrow space tucked behind a rusted dumpster and an arched alcove.

He crouches down next to something big and dark and inky black, crumpled on the ground. The rhythm of your heart kicking up a beat when it shifts - when it groans.

Sounding almost inhuman, reminding you briefly of the snarls of the man that saved you in the alley so much like this one. And suddenly, with a sick lurch in your stomach - your mind catches up.

Seeing the form for what it really was - as Alfred kneels at the foot of the mass, the shapes slowly starting to unfold, the fabric peeled back.

A man.

Pieces of him slowly revealed - dark plates of armor, a pointed cowl as dark as night.

"There you are." He says calmly, as if finding a lost stray - not a vigilante that you had watched take down three men like it was nothing.

But it doesn't make sense - you have to be in the wrong place. You don't understand, you're here for Bruce, not... not-

“Alfred.” The name is rasped out into the quiet, low and labored.

But it’s not the voice you heard that night, in the car. Deep and growling and threatening, setting you on edge even as you told yourself you were fine, were safe.

This was a voice you were familiar with, one that had helped you, had shared a small moment with in the kitchen, all those weeks ago.

“I’m here, Bruce.”

It’s hard to process, your legs going shaky, your shoulder leaning until it presses against the brick wall. Not making sense, but there’s no mistaking the eyes now that you see them - hazy and unfocused, but still his.

Still staring as you sag, open-mouthed and unashamed - until Alfred is beckoning you with his hand, focusing back on the curled form.

“I know,” He coaxes, “It’s okay. We need to get him into the car, okay darling? I can’t do it on my own.”

The name gets your attention, the urgency of his voice. Remembering your promise to help - not wanting to be dead weight just when you were needed.

You shakily crouch down, gravel shifting under your boots - your breath sounding too loud in your own ears as he passes you his phone, directing where to shine the light.

Watching as his fingers slip under the cowl to check his pulse. The mass moving as Bruce shifts, pushing himself up onto an elbow. Lips twisted in a grimace, teeth outlined in crimson from a split lip and bloody nose.

Alfred's words quiet, hushed as he asks questions - if he hit his head, if he can be moved. The light glinting off the cowl as he answers, shifting until Alfred can get an arm under him, tugging him slowly upright.

Beckoning for you to do the same, and it takes both of you to lift him - your shoulder tucked under his armpit, lifting with your knees and hips, an arm around his waist.

A low, rough shuffle to the car, he towers over both of you in the suit, it's bulk weighing you all down. Feet dragging with each step, it takes ages to make your way back - and by the end all of your breaths are labored, soaked through with the rain.

Cold, trembling fingers fumble with the car handle, and somehow he's clumsily maneuvered inside, until he's stretched out across the back seats. A hand clamped over his ribs, a groan barked out when he has to shift for the door to close.

You slide into the passenger seat as Alfred starts the car, pulling back onto the narrow side road, down another. Still feeling tense, your mind a swirl of thoughts, though you're unable to stick to just one. They sift through your fingers like sand, and all you can do is sit there, tense and riddled with nerves.

A hand extends across the seat, resting palm-up on your thigh. Alfred's face is still drawn, concentrating on the fastest route home. But you take it, fingers curling around yours, finding comfort in that tiny, brief moment.

It's rude to stare and you resist the urge to crane your head, to turn around and gape again. Your eyes flit up to the rearview mirror again and again, trying to make sense of it all.

Seeing the exposed pieces of his face, but it doesn’t doesn’t seem like it could really be Bruce under there - even if it is his features. Still feeling like a weird dream, like maybe you're still asleep at home. That it's still midday, that you're still napping… waiting for a much different kind of call.

But small moments seem to click into place. Absences from Alfred when he never seemed to be in his usual spaces. Bruce’s attire when you all shared that dinner. The alley, and your strange conversation with The Batman afterwards, and just how you ended up in a place you had suspected - and now know - that you never asked for.

You lose the route with your thoughts, the Tower passing by, the car not slowing. Twisting and winding until it's passing by a high, chain-link fence. Whipping by caution signs, your heart lifting into your throat as he barrels down a dark tunnel - the only lights coming from the headlights.

Driving over an old train track, the hint of an old, iron gate looming in front, impassible.

Your fingers squeeze automatically in fear, clamping around his, but the gate cracks open and parts just as the car gets close. Slamming shut behind as you continue deeper - until it opens into a massive cavern. A terminal, at the end of the line.

Slowing to a stop right at the edge of a platform - Bruce alert enough now that removing him from the car is not quite as difficult. He still leans heavily on both of your shoulders, as Alfred guides you both through the open room to a tucked away corner. A cot taking up a lot of the space, a table made out of flat steel just to the side.

Bruce rests on it, gingerly pushing himself up, each movement slow with gasping breaths. You own breath catching in your throat as he peels his gloves off, hands rising to cup his cowl.

Dark hair appears from underneath, matted against his head from sweat and the close cut of the mask. Eyes rimmed with black, beneath strong brows. The downward turn of his lips, the sharp edge of his jaw.

It shocks you even though you’re expecting it - only really starting to accept it now that you see him fully. The memory of his actions in the alley seemingly so different then the Bruce you know.

Alfred is busying himself, sorting through containers under the table top, pulling some out. Showing you where the clasps are for the cape because Bruce can’t move his arm that high up without flinching yet. The gauntlets next - the two of you slowly taking him apart, piece by piece.

You’d be more nervous if you weren’t so worried, seeing the way he holds in the pain, the bruises that blossom over his skin as the suit peels back. Healing shades of gold and purple scattered across his scarred shoulder, back. A deep, mottled red streaking across his ribs and his hips that make you gasp when you see them.

Alfred circling to see, worry lining his own face as he gives him a once over - shoulder slumping in relief because he knows it could have been worse, much worse.

“How close were you to the bomb?” He asks, pressing fingers against the edge of a yellow bruise near his ribs. “You have a fracture or two here.”

There’s a pause, teeth clenched in a grimace as he inhales. Finally getting his voice back after the force of the collision, the adrenaline pounding in his veins. His shoulders hunch, back curving as he answers, “Wasn’t from the Cathedral.”

The fingers pause, lifting, “Then what caused this?”

Bruce’s head lifts then, shoulders straightening but still looking ahead, “I used the wingsuit.”

You don’t know what that means, but you take it to be bad - Alfred’s head snaps up, brows furrowing as he bites out, “You didn’t. From where?”

“GCPD.” He answers, tone defensive.

“Christ, that has to be 10 stories at least.” Alfred leaves you to circle around, his fists planted on his hips.

“13.” The correction comes automatically, a scowl on his face, “And I didn’t have a choice-”

“You always have a choice,” Alfred interrupts, his voice low and hard, “What if it didn’t work?”

“Of course it works.” You can picture the roll of his eyes from his time, paired with his heavy scoff, “That’s not why-, you really think I’m that stupid-”

All of this watched with wide eyes, fixed firmly on the ground as you wished to be just about anywhere but here - it was too personal, too private. An argument that seemed to be just a rehash of one’s come before - Alfred’s answer hot and sharp on his tongue as you shift uncomfortably, catching his attention.

His jaw clicking shut, shooting Bruce a message that could only be interpreted as ‘we’re not done talking about this’. Taking a steadying breath, the furrow smoothing his brows, though the anger still lingers in his shoulders, his back.

“He’ll need ice.” Your head snaps up, his tone calm and focusing again. “Would you mind getting that for me, please? A change of clothes as well.”

His gaze flickering back over to Bruce, “We shouldn’t move you too much tonight. You most certainly have a concussion.”

Bruce’s reluctant and short nod, his own form of truce. A small penitence for the worry, the panic he caused - both of them knowing that if he’d had his way, he’d already be back out there. Meeting up with Gordon, though exhaustion gnaws at his bones.

You leave them - taking the lift upstairs, stopping by the kitchen. Finding ice packs already in the freezer, tucking bottled water under your arm. Nosing through the pantry until you find packaged snacks in the back, behind the boxes of healthy cereal and protein bars - dragging out a bag of chips, some cookies.

Stopping by the laundry, grabbing a neatly folded hoodie and a pair of sweats from the top of the clean basket. Bringing them back downstairs, where things have settled down - where it was down to bandaging the last small cuts and scrapes.

Alfred’s tired smile as you arrive makes you feel like you did something important - his arm looping around your waist, lips pressed to your temple.

“Thank you, darling.” He murmurs, passing a water and the clothes to Bruce so he can change - standing up so you can take his place on the chair next to the padded cot.

You sit with Bruce while Alfred cleans up, gathering the leftover supplies, scrubbing his hands clean in the small bathroom. Watching as he lingers near the shed suit, but not touching it - the one piece that Bruce preferred to handle himself.

There’s a silence as you shift, stretching your legs out, sinking a little further into the seat. You were never good at small-talk, and you’re both burning with questions and have nothing to say, all at once.

“You don’t have to babysit me.” Bruce glances your way as he lounges, but there’s no bite in his words, “I’m not going anywhere tonight.”

“I’m not babysitting you,” You shrug, reaching down to grab the chips, pinching the top, ripping the bag open. They might be the best ones you’ve ever had, you hadn’t realized how hungry you were. “I’m just hanging out.”

You offer the bag to him, and after a long moment, his hand reaches out, grabbing a fistful. He eats as much as you do, pretending to reluctantly take the rest of what you brought down - but it disappears quickly.

Eventually digging a device out from the bag at the side of his cot - an ipad and stylus, opening an app. From this angle you can just make out the AutoCAD display, what looked like the skeleton structure of his suit.

Seemingly uninterested in staying idle, already dissecting what went wrong earlier - how to improve.

Your eyes bounce around the Terminal now that you have a moment, your fingers itching to examine the computer setup, to sneak a closer look at the suit, the car. Remembering how the interior was far from the base model - wondering just how far the modifications went.

Eventually unable to keep the questions pushed down, "How long did it take you to do everything down here?"

His eyes flick up to yours, the stylus pausing. Now that he’s cleaned up, you can see a purpled bruise curving around a cheekbone, a red tinge to his eyes. Crescent-moon scabs on the back of the first two knuckles that grip the pen that have to be from another night.

Your stomach drops, as you cringe - forgetting just how intense his gaze can be, that he might not want to answer your questions, "Sorry, I wasn't thinking… you probably need to concentrate on your work."

"I don't mind, I don't like working in silence.” The stylus starts to move again, his eyes dropping, “It's been a little over two years. I am still working on it."

Two years. That makes sense - he must have started going out soon after. You remember when the Batman first began showing up online, in the news. It had been all people talked about for weeks.

"Did you do it all yourself? It looks like a lot of renovations."

Another nod.

"I had parts shipped to me, but built everything myself. The only person that knew about this-" About me, his meaning unspoken but clear, "was Alfred. And now, you."

He says it so simply, but the weight of his words hit you. Just how closely-guarded this secret was, something you hadn't really understood - too caught up in the reveal.

A lot of other things, recent things, start to make sense. The ache of anger and hurt you've been carrying starting to ebb, fading away.

"How-" the words feel thick in your throat, "How did you tell him?"

There's the hint of a smile, as he remembers. It wasn’t funny then but it was a little bit now, after everything that’s happened. From being in complete opposition - to now patching him up, working on the ciphers. It’s still far from encouragement, but he’ll settle for acceptance.

"I was careless, in the beginning. My suit wasn't as… sturdy, I would come home bruised. He noticed, though I had a list of excuses."

Foolish to think that Alfred would believe him for long, as observant as he is. Silently picking up the stiff movements of sore muscles, the increased interest in certain moves when they sparred.

Piecing things together, one sliver at a time.

"It took a little while, but he found his way down here, poked around when I wasn't paying attention. I thought my secret was safe, but I forgot he always has a way of figuring things out."

That makes you smile, sitting literally on the edge of your seat as he talks, your chin cupped in your palm, "How did he take it?"

Bruce gives you a look, one that says ‘how do you think?’ and you're certain you can guess. Not happy.

"He disagrees with my choices." The words are quiet, and your smile fades at the edges. "I keep hoping he'll come around."

You wonder if they've ever talked about it. Remembering Alfred’s confession the first night you stayed over. That someone could be supportive and worried and terrified all at once. That Alfred must care - because of the things he's said, he's done - sacrificing his own happiness to keep him safe.

Has Bruce had to make his own sacrifices? Is his reclusiveness the burden of having to keep such a secret, or has he always been like this?

Doesn’t he ever get… lonely?

You think about that a long time before you try to ask, your voice hesitant, “Is it hard? Going out, I mean. Wearing the mask.”

His gaze is solemn and heavy. Not having to think about the answer, because there isn’t another one.

“No.”

Your eyes drop before his do - the sudden intensity of his eyes a little too much.

“It’s the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

———

It’s late into the night now, when Alfred finally finds his way back to you. By that time, the pain medicine has started to kick in, and Bruce’s eyes are drooping, blinking sleepily from his spot curled up on the cot.

When they finally shut, you breathe a sigh of relief - finally letting the tension and worry melt from your shoulders.

“I think all we can do is let him rest up.” Alfred’s voice is low, his hand touching your arm, palm upwards, “We can go upstairs and clean up, if you’d like.”

Your hand fits perfectly into his, fingers curling around, palms pressing together - tugging you out of your seat. A gentle shift as you stand, never letting go as they entwine.

Following him to the elevator - the light inside a little too bright after the darkness of the renovated terminal. Leaning against him as the door slide shut with a clang, the slow crawl upward.

Silently, Alfred’s arms open for you, and you twist to curl into his chest, sagging against him. Your own warms wrapping around his waist, fingers curling in the soft fabric of his shirt.

“Thank you.” His voice is low, the sound so comforting, “You did so well tonight, I know that was a lot.”

“Is he really going to be okay?” You can’t help but ask, thinking back to the dark, painful bruises - just seeing them made you ache in sympathy.

“Yes. That’s not the worst shape he’s been in. I just hope he stays put tonight.” His hands smooth down your back, his words a rumble in his chest from under your ear.

“He told me he would.”

Alfred hums, “He says that, but I wonder. He can be so stubborn. It is maddening.”

You head tilts upwards then, and he catches your expression - a raised eyebrow, the hint of a smile. His own small, curving smile as he interprets it.

Pot, meet kettle.

Exhaling a breath against him then, your eyes closing - basking in the relief of knowing that everything was going to be okay. So much had happened in the past twenty four hours, it seems like it had stretched across days.

His warmth, strong presence is comforting after the agony of the unknown - the way your heart and mind have been yanked in so many different directions. The soft brush of his thumb against your neck as he holds you, the tight embrace of his arm as it wraps around making you feel so safe.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Bruce before we found him,” He breaks the gentle silence, the hum of the lift. “I wasn’t sure how hurt he would be. If… he’d be in the suit.”

Your eyes open as the grip on his shirt tightens, but you don’t say anything, waiting for him to continue.

“I wanted to tell you. I was planning on it, but I thought I had more time. Wanted to do it properly.” His chest rises with a sigh, the deep exhale of his breath in your ear, “Will you be running for the hills, darling?”

The anchoring grip loosens as you lean back, his last words spoken with such a resigned, self-deprecating depth. A poor attempt at a joke - at shielding himself, his worry beading up before dripping through the cracks. He doesn’t look at you until you’re reaching, palm curving around his cheek, coaxing him down to you.

Eyes searching, his lips parting with yours as you ask your own question, “You were going to tell me? When you felt ready?”

The sad pull of his smile as he answers.

“Yes.”

With his answer your mouth rises to his, a relieved groan when they finally meet. Wanting to, aching for this since yesterday, since even before then. The slight pause as he processes, before his own fingers twine into your clothes, his mouth softening against yours.

Kissing him until you feel dizzy, desire flickering into a full, roaring flame from the smoldering embers. Missing him - all of him, trying to make up for lost time with the swipe of your tongue against his lips, his own groan when they part for you.

Getting lost in the moment, his back pressing against the wall, adjusting you against him - hands on your waist as a thigh nudges your legs apart. You shift in response, sighing into his mouth as your body flattens against his. The first roll of your hips is pure bliss.

Hands roam greedily, pulling you against him again, another sharp jolt of pleasure. Your own drifting over the planes of his chest, coming up to entwine around his shoulders.

Neither of you noticing the slowing ascent until the doors open with a chime, and you’re blinking as you step back - brought back down to the earth again.

The elevator taking you to a small room, exiting into one of the main hallways in the Tower. A large display case next to it, half-hiding the entrance - you’d been down this hallway before and had never noticed.

Heat still coils in your stomach, his hand in yours as you follow him down the familiar path to his bedroom. The hallways dim in the late night, his room even darker as the door opens.

The bathroom light is almost blinding as he switches it on, and you sigh in relief at the large, walk-in shower. You’re chilly and speckled with grease - and absolutely longing for the heat of the shower.

He lingers in the doorway, hand tucked in his trouser pocket as you open the cabinet, grabbing towels. Waiting for permission, enjoying just how easily you move around his space.

You glance over your shoulder as you ask, “You’re coming in with me, right?”

“If that is what you would like.” Alfred answers, letting you take the lead, not wanting to push.

Your footsteps slow as you walk over, towels set down on the counter so your hands can rest on his chest. Sliding up slowly to his neck, fingers slipping into the knot of his tie, tugging it loose.

Moving to the buttons of his shirt underneath, each one carefully undone as you answer, “I would.”

The breadth of his chest heaving in a sigh as you work your way down, eyes dragging up his form until they meet his face. The relief in them, mixed with gentle affection.

Only when the shirt hangs open and loose, your hands dropping to his belt, does he find himself - reaching for your clothes, hands skating down your sides.

“I want to keep you in this.” Fingers smoothing down the knit fabric on your hips, curling around the hem, “It suits you.”

That makes you smile, and you kiss him again, lips pressed to the curve of your jaw as he bunches it up, your head ducking after so he can lift it over.

A moment of pause, something weighing heavily on his mind. Trying to find the words, fingers brushing over bare skin, “Even after you came to see me, I still did not dare hope…”

Words trailing off, a small smile as he remembers, “Until you opened the door, wearing this. Then I realized that just maybe-”

As he trails off, your throat feels thick, chest tight. Fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt, half-pushed off his shoulders. Never wanting to let go.

He swallows, the smile turning melancholy with the furrow of his brows, “I don’t deserve forgiveness for how I treated you. But please know that I never wanted to hurt you. Or to be apart from you.”

Eyes pulling back to yours, insistent, and your heart lurches, your hand lifting to his face. Your smile is strong enough for both of you. He’s tortured himself enough - your next kiss pressed to the worried crease between his eyebrows.

“I know.”

Your hand finds his with a gentle, coaxing tug, “Come on.”

Clothes are peeled off each other until you both finish stripping bare. Turning on and stepping under the warm spray together, his body pressing close to yours. Fingers tracing the curve of your shoulder, up to your jaw - cupping it in his hands as you press close to him again, sighing as the heat warms your skin.

His touch is reverant as he washes you - lathering up a washcloth, carefully wiping away the rain and grime from your skin. Eyes that never leave you as his fingers drift, following the soapy path.

Your mouths meet frequently, swallowing sighs and moans as he maps you with his touch. Never forgetting your soft curves, but merely reacquainting the way his hand feels as it cups the weight of your breast. Your body smooth and slick with soap as it slides against his.

His thumb eventually brushing over the taut peak of your nipple, mouth chasing yours as you groan, begging, “please Alfred, more-”

Unable to hide what you, your words, do to him - his hard length curving against your hip as his fingers grip the flesh at your hips, squeezing, before moving lower, between your thighs.

Parting you gently, fingertips ghosting down to pet at your folds, slipping deeper to where you’re wet and needy for him. His own sigh, the sound going sharp, deepening, when your hand pushes between you to wrap around his cock, squeezing and stroking.

Pulling them back to rub the pads of his fingers against your clit, your thighs spreading for him as you lean on the tiled wall for support. Dragging him with you, your hand wrapped around the back of his neck to keep him close.

The other hand on your hip roams - greedily - flattening his palm against the swell of your ass, grabbing soft skin to push you against the hand teasing your clit. Fingers slipping over slippery, soap-soaked skin, the tip of one brushing over the tight ring of muscle, the next pressing down against it with his grip.

It’s unintentional, erotic, and you find yourself keening into his mouth, hips jerking - the fist around his cock squeezing him tightly. His eyes open, voice low as he growls out an, “Oh, fuck-”

Disentangling himself from your grip as his mouth drops, lips pressing open, wet kisses against your throat, your breasts, the curve of your stomach.

Sinking to his knees in front of you, the scratch of his beard dragging over sensitive skin, before soothed with his hot, warm mouth. The pink peek of tongue between parted lips before he licks a stripe up your cunt.

Your moan echoes against the tile, hips flexing against his tongue - words almost a song as they tumble from your lips, “Fuck, baby-”

His eyes fluttering shut at the praise, eyelashes making sharp points against his cheeks from where they are soaked from the spray. An achingly-sweet clench in your gut as he groans against you, tongue lapping at your clit as your fingers push loose, damp strands back from his forehead, clinging to them to anchor yourself.

Alfred devours you, hands sliding up your shins, thighs. Pulling another groan from him as you tug on his hair, the sweet tang of you on his tongue as the pleasure pulses in your veins.

Moving until he’s cupping your ass again, tilting you against his mouth, his lips closing around and sucking as his fingers slip between the curve of your cheeks until they’re teasing you again.

Because of course he noticed how you reacted - the touch not one that was completely new. But it had been with him, and you think maybe he likes finding out what makes you moan. Committing each little part of you to memory.

You think you’d let him do anything he wanted. There’s such a quiet confidence to his movements, his eyes cracking open to gaze into yours, watching the way your head tilts back against the tile, feeling the minute flexes of your muscles as you clench around nothing.

He’ll take care of you. Here - now, and then after, and beyond. Things aren’t magically like before, seamlessly repaired. Your heart still hurts, a wound that’s still tender and sore at the edges. But it’s like a lens has finally come into focus, a puzzle piece sliding into place. You can see a bigger picture now, beyond your own small bubble.

He said he trusted you. And you trust him, too.

It leaves you feeling desperate, needy for him. You want him to take you, fuck you, fill you. Begging him for his cock, wanting to finish with him buried deep inside you.

Even though you know the answer before he says it - his head tilting back; your arousal glinting against his lips as he grits out his answer, “Not until you come.”

Because he always says that. And you always do.

“S-Stubborn.” You whine, the word panted between parted lips; his amused hum against your cunt.

In the steaming heat of the shower, the delicious pressure builds until you shatter, his hands gripping your thighs as you tremble against his mouth - dipping to press it against your entrance. Tasting your pleasure, smeared across his tongue, your fingernails pressing into the meat of his shoulders as the sounds of your moans overwhelm him.

Finally rising, his nose tracing the column of your neck, head still tipped back. Leaning down to kiss you, tongue darting into your mouth so you can taste yourself on his lips, a curving smile when he pulls back, countering your earlier remark.

“Thorough.”

Your laugh is soft, satisfied, arms winding around his shoulders. Pressing your own kisses to his jaw, neck, collarbone. Hips curving to meet his, the wet tip of his cock leaving a mark against your belly.

Fingers wrap around his length, hot and thick in your hand, angling it to slip between your thighs. Ghosting along your slit, slicking him up with your release.

“Patience,” he tells you, but it’s half-hearted as he bites back his own moan. “I want to take you to bed.”

Your teeth scrape against his shoulder, and the moan releases from his chest, your hips rolling to make another pass against him.

“Please?” Grinding against him, the tip catching against your clit and making you sigh, “I don’t want to get out yet.”

Tilting your head up, brushing his lips against yours, giving a gentle order, “Turn around.”

You turn eagerly, palms splaying against the tile, feet flat on the floor as you spread your legs. A gentle hand pressing against the small of your back, your hips angling until your breasts press against the tile as well.

When he leans back he can see all of you, shining and on display, for his eyes only. His broad hand wraps around his cock, pumping and squeezing.

He thinks he could easily get off just like this, just from looking at you - spilling himself across the swell of your ass, letting it drip down your holes.

It’s tempting, but not as much as feeling you wrapped snug around him.

“You want my cock, dove?” His question makes your body clench, heat licking up your limbs. Holding your breath as you peek over your shoulder at him, the dark, hungry glitter in his eyes. “Can’t wait, can you? Need me to fuck you right now?”

You nod as he steps forward, crowding you in, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance. Holding himself there until you remember your words, a sighing stream of, “Yes, god yes- I need you to fuck me, please-”

His hips shifting forward, the sweet stretch as he nudges his way inside. Too far gone to mind the ache as he sinks in - your fingers and toes curling as you rock back to take more of him, as he fills you with a long, steady thrust.

Clenching around him when his hips sit flush with yours, hands gripping your hips. Mouth at your ear, his words already turning soft, broken.

“Christ, I missed you.”

A confession, drawn out of him - and you know it’s not as shallow or simple as him missing how you feel. It’s there, deeper, in the way he holds onto you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. The press of his lips against the curled edge of the bandage on your shoulder, one he’ll fix later.

The way his chest presses into your back, the hands on your hip curling around to embrace you, covering a breast, splaying across your stomach.

“I missed you, too.” Your head turns, tilting back so his lips can slot against yours, sighing into your mouth.

His hips setting a steady pace - sliding back, a shallow thrust back in. The heat of the running water making you feel warm, dizzy. The slap of skin on skin filling the small space, goosebumps raising on your arms with each of his rough, harsh breaths in your ear.

Meeting each thrust of his hips as you rock back, the slide of his cock setting your nerves alight, each thrust pressing deep inside. The hand on your stomach dipping to circle your clit again - he’s not sure how much longer he’ll last with you wrapped around him. Wanting to feel the tight pulse of your pussy as he comes.

“Perfect,” he groans, feeling you clench around him, “My perfect girl.”

The words make you whimper, eyes closing as your own hand drops from the wall to cup your other breast. His voice and the swipe of your thumb over a tight nipple building you up.

Your own sounds needy as you answer, “Yours.”

His hips jerk, losing rhythm - breath ragged in your ear. Slowly, he tries the word out, the edge of beard scraping your jaw as he moves closer, “Mine.”

It does something to you - you’re reaching back, your cheek pressing against the tile as you grasp for him, palm curving around the back of his neck.

“Oh my god.” You can feel it, the fire coiling in your belly, the tremble in your legs, “Say it again, I’m going to come-”

He does, the sound groaned out, desperate - hips snapping a little harder, faster.

“Mine.”

Repeating it, again and again as his fingertips rub against your clit. But it’s too much - there’s so very little in this world that is his. And yet here you are, in his arms, wanting him - his own pleasure racing down his spine until he can no longer hold it back.

His words dissolve into a broken moan, his thrusts going shallow as he keeps himself pressed deep. Wanting every inch to be buried in you as he comes. Fingers stuttering, but not stopping - trying to make sure you’re pulled over with him.

You can feel him, the throb of his cock as he coats your walls, your head tipped back to rest against his shoulder as you cry out. The feeling, his voice, sending you over with him - the edges of your vision going hazy as you come hard.

His answering groans with the tight, warm clench of your walls around his cock, your body going stiff in his arms. Milking the last of his release from him, taking every drop.

Listening with closed eyes to sweet sounds of your release, the decrescendo of your pretty moans until it’s just soft gasps and his name, sighed out between parted lips.

Sliding from you only when he has to, hands on your hips to turn you around so he can kiss you properly. Either of you unable to hold back the smile - the aching rush and need now expended, leaving you loose-limbed and contented.

Afterwards, hands still wander. His slipping against your inner thigh, fingers tracing where he drips from you - a moment of indulgence before he carefully wipes it away with a cloth. You fingers scratching along his scalp tangling in his hair as you wash it for him. The tension slowly easing from both until the water goes cold.

Bundling up in soft towels, warm robes as you wander into the bedroom - tugging open a drawer. Finding your spare set of clothes still inside, your heart flipping in your chest when you see them.

He kept them, your things still mixed with his. Your eyes soft and warm and full of so many swirling emotions as he slides a thumb across your cheek, reaching down to pluck his own clothes from the pile.

Alfred’s voice soft as the shirt tugs over his head, sitting on the bed as he pulls the sheets back, “You can sleep up here, where it’s comfortable. I’ll be back up as soon as I can.”

Your brow furrows, tugging the leggings up your thighs - soft against your skin, “Where are you going?”

“Back downstairs, I want to be close if I’m needed.”

Fingers fit together as you grab his hand, pressing it to your lips, “Can I go with you?”

He smiles, and you go together - arms laden with spare blankets, pillows. Taking the lift down, finding Bruce still sleeping, the color back in his cheeks.

Flattening the futon nearby, making the best of the narrow space - layering the bedding. Finding a way to fit onto it together, limbs tangled, his nose buried in your hair, chest pressed flush against you.

Far from comfortable… but you were together.

And that was all that mattered.

Thank you so much for reading! Would love to know what you think! 💖

(taglist - @rescuethewretched, @stalinsthirsttrap, @slavicwitchling, @zinzinina, @bacarasbabe, @kakashibabe02, @princessxkenobi, @maskhoper, @thelastemzy, @celestianstars, @squidlywiddly87)

#alfred pennyworth x reader #alfred pennyworth x f!reader #alfred pennyworth x you #alfred pennyworth

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