#but i like to think steph dragged him and the image was just too perfect

[hatchetfieldenjoyer]

#nerdy prudes must die #npmd #lautski #starkid #hatchetverse #you know i had to do it to em #this is a little ooc because peter wouldnt go to a bar his ass is NOT at the club #but i like to think steph dragged him and the image was just too perfect #jonny.post

[jasontoddiefor]

Summary: Jason Todd was raised on the streets, in Gotham’s filth, but the blood that was running through his veins was everything but. Jason was the last of a line of gruesome, death stained mages, necromancers who dealt in souls and flickering images of immortality. Jason was a fifteen-year-old boy who crawled out of his grave, weeks after he died, reanimated by powers he couldn’t understand or control, and struggled to feel alive even when his father was holding onto him.

AN: I finally get to post my @batfam-big-bang fanfic! I My lovely beta readers for this wonderful project were @nycis and @queerbutstillhere while my amazing artists were @darkmagyk and @paperedking and @zannakai. Check out their stunning pieces!!!

Read on AO3

I had a night I had a day I did one million stupid things I said one billion foolish things I'm not okay

If there are two emotions Jason knows well, they are  fear and anger. Both had accompanied him since his earliest childhood memories. His father’s shouting had been a constant source of anger and fear. His loud voice had forced Jason to hide beneath the table, his bed, the closet, all spaces he had falsely assumed would be too small for his father to reach. With bated breath he had waited for the screeching to stop until only his mother’s soft sobs had echoed through the rooms. Those too had angered Jason. He didn’t know whether it was on her behalf, because he had hated his father so much for causing her any pain, or because that anger had been for himself, the poor child whose mother wasn’t strong enough to leave her piece of shit husband.

On the streets, anger had kept him warm at night and fear had ensured he stayed alive. He had marveled at the shiny tires of the Batmobile, but even then, deep down, he had been so incredibly angry. He was going hungry while another drove a car like that. He had ignored his fear then and stolen the tires regardless.

It had been the best decision of his life.

So now, when once again  he was stuck between fear and anger, he chose to dismiss his fear and lash out instead.

“You can’t be serious!” Jason hissed, throwing up his arms.

Rage boiled beneath his skin like an active volcano. It infected his voice, his stance. He rose to his full height, making him the tallest in the room, but none of his siblings even blinked at it. They were too used to such simpleminded intimidation tactics, employed similar ones in front of villains who thought they could get the better of them.

“This is the right way,” Dick said, his voice strained with finality, a kind of authority he had no right to evoke.

He was not their leader, and he sure as hell was not their father. Dick barely understood what Jason was capable of and when he did, was too scared of it. The others didn’t see it, but Jason knew a coward when he saw one. Dick always tip-toed around Jason’s room like he expected the undead to crawl right out of it and drag him into a bloody casket. Beyond that, he also always took the patrol routes far away from Jason’s apartment complex and city district. Jason didn’t mind, he preferred it when the others kept their noses out of the Narrows and Crime Alley. His people didn’t particularly enjoy it either when the other bats and birds came around to play there as they tended to mess with the wards and ask uncomfortable questions. Jason understood too well how unsettling his presence could be and therefore knew very well that Dick had no room to make such decisions or judge Jason for them.

“The right way,” Jason repeated. “Do you even hear yourself? If everything was right, Bruce would still be here!”

Tim and Steph both winced when Jason said his name and even Dick’s face fell. They all didn’t understand it. Death was so final to them instead of just another state of being, one that Jason could reverse.

“I can bring him back,” Jason continued, desperation seeping into his voice. “Everything will be alright again. It’s all in these books. I just need your help.”

Why couldn’t his siblings just understand that he would fix it and then everything would go back to being the way it was before Darkseid had torn their lives to shreds. The Cave had become messy since Bruce’s death. It had been barely a month ago but it already showed despite best efforts. Jason had dragged all his books here to study and take notes, the constant hum of the technology as much a motivational hymn as it was a lullaby. His notes now were spread out all across the table, proudly displaying the work Dick was disregarding so very easily.

Dick only stubbornly shook his head. “No, Bruce wouldn’t want that.”

This wasn’t about what Bruce wanted, he was dead. This was simply about deciding how they were going to fix it.

“You don’t know that,” Jason countered. “It’s not like he wrote it in his will.”

Dick let out a low breath and dragged his hands through his hair as if Jason were causing him a headache. They had attended the reading of the will just hours before. Alfred had made sure they had all dressed up in proper suits the way they had for the closed casket funeral because there hadn’t been a body to recover. It would make it all more difficult to bring Bruce back without his original body to tie his soul too, but Jason was confident that he would be able to pull it off. Jason had only listened half-heartedly to the reading of the will. He knew its contents by heart, they all did. Every hero had a will set up and about ten proxies who knew every word and could recite it in case their death had been unnatural.

Alfred had been given custody over Damian while Tim had been emancipated. The Wayne fortune had been split five ways between Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, and Damian while Steph and Barbara both got a huge stipend. It was all for nothing, Bruce would be back. Cass knew it as well, or so Jason hoped. She hadn’t even bothered to show for the funeral but had left the city the night before. Jason wished she had stayed, she would support him.

Instead, Jason had to make everyone else listen to him.

Tim was still straight up in denial and didn’t believe that Bruce was dead. His parents had died around the same time, just two years earlier. Of course, he wouldn’t be able to handle it and escape into his delusions instead. Steph, for all that she was a part of the team and family, Jason’s closest confidant out of all of them, had chosen to stay neutral while Dick protested vehemently.

Damian, meanwhile, just thought that Jason wouldn’t be able to pull it off, but that could be blamed on his superiority complex. While the kid, a perfect mix of Talia and Bruce, could imitate Bruce’s accent and body language as well as he wanted to, he still reeked of al Ghul arrogance and the Lazarus pit’s side effects. It was a foul stench, poisonous, and foreign to this world. It had hurt Bruce when Jason had told him what exactly was keeping Damian’s heart beating, but there was nothing that could be done about it. It wasn’t like anybody else besides Jason actually noticed.

“Had he wanted to, we would know,” Dick said.

“But-“

“Jason, stop.” Dick’s order, his tone couldn’t be mistaken for anything but a bark, was harsh. “Bruce is dead and he will stay dead. You will not experiment on his soul just because you think you can bring him back.”

“I don’t think so, I know so,” Jason argued. “You’re just incapable of trusting me! You still think I’m a foolish kid who is just playing around with powers he doesn’t understand!”

His voice rose with every shouted word. It had always been like this. Dick thinking that Jason was crossing too many lines, wasn’t good enough to be Robin or anything. Hell, he had accepted Tim more readily as Robin than he ever had Jason.

“Jason-“ Tim tried to speak up, but was harshly cut off by Dick.

Trust big brother to always know best.

“Because you are!” Dick shouted back. It hurt, cut into flesh like sharp knives, but at the same time it was liberating. Finally, Dick was actually speaking his mind. Honesty, so Jason had learned, was the only way to keep moving forward. They all lied, it was a part of their training, came as natural as breathing, but there was a line you had to be aware of.

“Bruce is dead and you can’t let go. Instead of helping me figure out how to keep Gotham running, you run off and bury your head in old books to find a solution to a problem that isn’t there! He’s gone. I needed you on patrol tonight and you didn’t show.”

Patrol had been just fine, Dick hadn’t needed him. Jason had kept an eye on the comms, they had done as good as they could with three men down. It hadn’t even been a busy night.

“You’re just giving up!”

“And you’re delusional!” Dick retorted.

He picked up one of the pages the closest to him. The originally white paper was covered by ink stains, diagrams smeared uncaringly all over it while Jason had been trying to figure out what exactly his ancestors had gotten up to when they tried to raise the dead.

“This is too much, Jason. You’re only setting yourself up for my failure. I let you keep researching because I thought it would help, but it’s only hurting you. You have to let go.”

“And leave?” Jason spat out. “Like you always do the moment something goes wrong with Bruce?”

Dick froze. His annoyance and misguided worry slowly twisted into dark anger. At that moment, it just felt right. Dick had ceased pretending that he was so much better than them, that he wasn’t struggling without Bruce around. Jason loathed how he sat at breakfast every day, acting as if it was all still alright and fine, smiling and lying continuously.

“I-“ Dick interrupted himself, reigning in his anger as everybody else watched him with keen eyes. “No, no, I’m not having this discussion with you. None of us are on board with your reckless endeavor, so you’re not doing it and that’s final.”

Jason turned to look at the rest of his family, but they were all averting their eyes. Of course, they would all side with Dick over him. He was older, more experienced, the first Robin out of all of them.

He wasn’t the resurrected boy who talked to ghosts and turned living beings to worthless decay with nothing more than a touch.

“I see,” Jason replied and grabbed his jacket from the chair.

Fine, it wasn’t like he needed any of them anyway. It would have been easier with more living anchors, but Batman had left his mark all over the city. Gotham was his, even the magic that buried itself so far underground that hardly anybody could see it knew who it belonged to. Jason had plenty of anchors he could use to bring Bruce back. What were five children compared to an entire city?

“Where are you going?” Tim spoke up. He had barely said a word since Jason and Dick had started fighting, but Jason supposed that it made sense given that Tim thought both of them were wrong.

“Away from here,” Jason replied. “Since Dick is so keen on running this show himself, he can do it. I’m out.”

“What?” Steph asked. “Wait! Jason, no, you have to stay!”

“What I need to do is fix this.”

Jason picked his backpack up from the ground and started stuffing his papers into it. He didn’t particularly care in which order he did it, he would have to sort through them all anyway once he was back in his apartment. He needed to toss those that were trash and copy the calculations and incantations that actually made sense and seemed like they were a good first step onto fresh sheets. Maybe he should get actual parchment. He didn’t usually work with dead writing materials, but with whatever he had on hand. His spells were powerful enough without, but he couldn’t afford any mistakes here.

Once he was finished, he threw his backpack over his shoulder and headed towards his bike, not sparing the group behind him another glance.

“Jason,” Dick started once more.

Jason just threw his hands up, dismissing him.

“Don’t worry, Richard,” he said. “It’s not like I can stay dead for long if something goes wrong. Don’t bother contacting me. I’ll come back once I’m finished.”

He couldn’t see his older brother’s reaction, but Jason would bet that he had flinched. They all hated to be reminded of Jason’s death, but it wasn’t like Jason could erase that part of him.

Jason put on his bright red helmet and turned on his bike. Then, without looking back, he drove off, disappearing into the dawn of a new day.

#jason todd #dick grayson #bruce wayne #dc #batfam #batman #fanfic #batfam big bang 2020 #AAAH IM SO HYPED

[ereawrites]

Tim Drake x Reader - Envy

The first time he realises it's more than a stupid crush is mid-summer, sweat across the back of his neck, ice in his drink. Bruce has had a tough few weeks, and he's learning to surround himself with the people he cares about in times like these: besides, the weather is gorgeous, a rarity for Gotham, and so Bruce throws an extended family barbecue. 'Family' has always been a little tough to define, for Tim and for many others who share the Wayne name. Some - Dick, Jason, Damian, Cass - feel as though they could be his blood siblings, like they share more than a name and a vigilante identity and a proclivity for violence. Duke, Kon, and Jon have somehow become his annoying cousins who say, let me play the games on your phone, Tim, I know you get the unreleased ones, don't lie, but he loves them all the same.

It's when he sees you talking to Steph, the distant ex who he now considers one of his closest friends, that the depth of his feelings really hits him. You're in a swimsuit - he shouldn't stare, he shouldn't, it's summer and it's hot and it's perfectly normal for you to want to enjoy the pool while you're at the manor - with a cocktail in hand, golden sun catching in your hair, a warm smile lighting up your features, eyes crinkled up at the corners with laughter. Maybe Steph is telling an anecdote about the family; perhaps you're just enjoying this perfect day.

A giggle spills from your lips, shiny with the cherry-flavoured lip balm he knows you use, right as your gaze wanders across the pool and meets Tim's own. Although he's quick to react, transforming his face into a friendly smile and giving you a small wave, he has to fight back a blush from the shame of almost being caught staring. He isn't a creep. He isn't.

"Tim!", you exclaim, as he crosses around the pool and makes his way over to you and Steph. "I didn't know you could even come out in the sun! I hope you're wearing sunscreen."

Steph smirks. "You're all... milky. How long has it been since you left your computer screen?'

Tim feels your eyes drag down over his body, probably only because Steph's just pointed out how pale he is, but he's in a swimsuit too and he can feel your gaze burning hot on every inch of exposed skin. He huffs out a sarcastic laugh. "Funny, both of you. Duke attacked me with a bottle of SPF twenty minutes ago."

You and Steph dissolve into another fit of laughter: clearly the image of his assault is amusing to you. Tim would pretend to be more annoyed than he really is, maybe play it up a little to make you both feel bad, but he knows that you're only in a good mood. Why wouldn't you be? This is the first day you've had fully to yourself in weeks - he makes a point to stay updated on your activities, but he's not a creep, it's normal to take an interest - between your schoolwork and your internship. The hard work has paid off, though, and you've just graduated at the top of your class with a path straight into a major company. He can cut you some slack for now.

"Do either of you two know where I can find Damian?", Steph pipes up suddenly after a sip of her own drink. "I've gotta talk to him."

Tim exaggerates a disgusted tremble, which only earns him a playful slap from Steph and another little giggle from you. "Poor you. He's probably walking the dogs on the other side of the garden, or something - antisocial little shit."

"Damian, antisocial? I haven't heard from you in almost three weeks, Timothy Drake! You hypocrite!", Steph cries. Three weeks? He could've sworn it was only a week ago, at most; he FaceTimed her for a catch up, and she was talking about her crush on Kon's dad, and he'd explained he'd been busy because he'd been helping you write your thesis - but, wait, it hadn't even been the final section, so it must have been longer ago than he thought, because you submitted your final draft five days ago - shit.

Tim sighs. "Sorry, Steph. Actually, sorry to both of you. I... lost track of time, I guess?"

"I'll let you off this time, Drake-", Steph narrows her eyes at him, and tips back the last of her cocktail. "But you better repay me by having another drink ready for me when I come back."

She grins widely, and heads off to find Damian: God knows why she wants to talk to him when he's being so antisocial, but she's always had a way of drawing the young boy out of his shell. Tim chuckles under his breath, and turns to smile sheepishly at you.

"And you? What do I have to do to make you forgive me?", he offers. He's half-teasing, but there's a part of him that feels guilty. It's selfish. He knows it is; he's the one who finds himself wanting to spend so much time with you, not the other way around, and he sees you more than enough. You probably haven't even realised it's been four days since you last spoke to him.

You swirl the last dregs of your drinks thoughtfully, smiling at him - God, your smile is perfect, so soft and warm and kind - and then reach out to pat him on the shoulder. "I think I'm the one who owes you, you know."

Your touch lingers for just a fraction of a second and Tim is forced to suppress a shiver. "Meaning?'

"You've spent most of your free time for months helping me with schoolwork, Timmy! There's no way I would've been able to - actually, no, I would have managed fine without help - but you made it so much easier. I wish I could do more to thank you."

Tim waves away your gratitude with a small smile. "You've done plenty - besides, I enjoyed helping you."

"Why?", you grin, and the previous playfulness you'd exhibited with Steph is beginning to spark back up in your eyes. "Because my area of study interests you so much? Or is it just because I'm your favourite person?'

There are a million ways he could play this. This stupid, summer crush has been eating at him for weeks now, and Tim knows all too well that he's bad with emotions. He has no idea which course of action he should choose: flirt, or tease, or act aloof? Dick would dazzle you with a charming grin and a compliment - Jason would make a ridiculous, suggestive joke that somehow would be flirty instead of creepy - Damian (and Tim feels indescribable shame at the fact that his younger brother would be better at this than him) would brush the teasing off in a way that only drew you in.

"...Spending time with you isn't the worst thing in the world.", Tim settles on, and he mentally kicks himself as soon as the words leave his mouth. God, he isn't a creep, but he's stupid. So stupid. Almost as stupid as he is for developing a crush in the first place.

By some saving grace, your smile only widens. "So I am your favourite person?'

He needs another drink.

"You're in danger of losing that title.", he shrugs, and begins to head for the drinks table that Alfred so thoughtfully set up - you follow without question. "But, well, I wouldn't have spent all that time with you if, you know, I didn't like you. It was actually... kind of fun."

You fix yourself your own cocktail at the same time as him. It must be your favourite, since it's the same as the last one you were drinking, and Tim has to remind himself again that he's not a creep as he wonders how it would feel to kiss the taste of sweet alcohol off your lips. It's just a crush. He's going to get over it.

"Aww - I knew you loved me! Seriously, though - I did really enjoy spending that time with you. Even if you did spend half of it vibrating from caffeine overload, and the other half shouting at me for drinking caffeine myself.", you say.

He shrugs. "It's bad for you." Hypocrisy normally gets to Tim, but he can excuse the bad habit for himself. He can't help but worry about you.

The words that spill from your fruit-stained lips in response - teasing, as always, no more than that, stop it - and the glint in your eye and the little quirk of your mouth upwards; something about it just feels different and it makes his stomach lurch. "You're a bad influence, Timmy. I like it."

Fuck. He sips at his drink, too much vodka for his liking and too little ice, but oh well: he's got bigger things to worry about, like hiding how thickly he swallows. Like pretending he doesn't notice the faint sheen of sweat coating your collarbones, and the dip of your throat, spreading across your shoulders and down, down, dipping to your stomach - he pretends he doesn't notice. It's hot. You're warm. And a bit of sweat shouldn't get to him as much as it does.

"Every person here is a bad influence. You asked me for help, anyway. I'm starting to regret doing it.". That's a blatant lie and you both know it, but Tim doesn't know quite how to react other than with sarcasm. He feels like he's dancing with you every time he speaks to you, skating on paper-thin ice but loving the thrill - don't be so fucking dramatic, it's just a crush, stop it.

You roll your eyes and place your glass down onto the table. "I'm sorry. You're a fantastic influence, and you've made the last few months far more bearable. Thank you. I mean it."

And then you bring one hand to his shoulder, a feather-light touch that still sends him practically careening into ecstasy, and before Tim quite realises what's happening, you're pressing a friendly kiss to his left cheek.

You pull back with a smile. "I'll stop giving you shit for today, but only because I'm so grateful."

You just fucking kissed him. You were barely an inch away from his lips, close enough that he could almost smell your drink on your lips, and it was only a friendly gesture and he knows you do it with everyone and he knows it doesn't mean anything, to you, at least - but, to Tim, you've just punched right through his chest and grabbed his heart and squeezed, tight, snatched the breath right from his lungs and all rational thought from his brain; he wants, so badly, to lean forward and kiss you for real this time. He would, if he had the courage. He would, if he knew you felt the same way.

This is more than a stupid, summer crush.

Tim wants you to kiss him again. He wants to take your hand and parade you around the barbecue on his arm. He would lick the sweat off your fucking collarbones, if you would only let him. Maybe he is a creep. He doesn't care anymore.

Another sip of his drink. He's so fucked.

You don't notice the way his jaw tenses, or the way his breathing quickens; why would you? You're not looking for any kind of reaction, because, for you, it was just a kiss on the cheek, nothing more, nothing worthy of a revelation of his feelings.

"Oh, Tim - look, Kon's coming over!", you nudge him with your elbow, drink back in hand. Tim's too shellshocked to do anything other than follow your gaze, right over to where Kon's walking over to the two of you. He must have been in the pool with Jon and Dick, because his hair is wet and rivulets of water are running down his chest - Tim doesn't think he'll ever really get used to his best friend being so absolutely ripped. He hates it.

Kon fixes you with a beaming grin. "Hey, guys! What's with all the drinking? I though barbecues were for having fun and eating, not an alcohol club."

Tim forces a smirk: Kon will see right through him if he isn't careful, figure out what’s going on. The smile on your face, though, is wide and genuine, almost as big as Kon's.

"Says Aquaman over here.", you giggle. Kon shakes his head, flicking water at you, and you squeal and dash behind Tim.

Droplets of pool water land on Tim's face, filling his nose with the scent of chlorine instead of the scent of your drink, and he mourns the loss. "Careful, Kon. Chlorine can burn our skin right off. You wouldn't want to hurt us, right?"

The other male's eyes widen comically, and he mouths a seriously at Tim, concern evident in his gaze. Having a half-alien best friend has its drawbacks, but it's worth it for the tricks Tim gets to play.

You peek over Tim's shoulder and, upon determining that the coast is clear, step out and pout at him. "Don't tease - Kon, don't listen. He's stringing you along."

Tim scowls at you. "Fuck - you couldn't have played along for a few minutes? Seriously?"

Kon lets out a hearty chuckle, and out of nowhere he reaches his hand out towards you - for a moment, Tim just stares at it, wondering why his best friend is offering his hand to you. Then, you take it, that soft smile on your face, and Kon's pulling you into his chest and you're squeezing his hand and he's kissing you gently on the forehead.

"I knew I could rely on you.", Kon smiles, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. The penny begins to drop for Tim, but it's as if it's in slow motion - he sees the grand reveal coming, but he it doesn't quite sink in just yet.

You turn back to face Tim, keeping your fingers interlaced with Kon's so his arm wraps around your body and settles on your waist, pressing you into his side. "I - uh, sorry, Tim. Kon's still... getting the hang of how much PDA is acceptable."

Oh. Tim should have seen this coming. He should have noticed the signs; they all spring up in his mind now, the way Kon only ever seemed to blush around you, and the way Tim's noticed you checking Kon out during training a few times (he'd not thought much of it, you'd be blind not to), and the way both of you have been so suspiciously quiet about your love lives lately - maybe to protect his feelings, to make him feel like he's not the odd-one-out of the group, to avoid excluding him.

"It's fine,", he lies. "But, well - PDA? I didn't realise you two were... close like that."

Why is he torturing himself by asking for details?

You offer him an apologetic look. "I know you've been really busy, lately - you know, with work, and stuff. I thought it would be best to hold off on telling you about anything going on until you had less on your plate."

You don't say it with pity, like you know that he's been harbouring feelings for you: no, it's just friendly concern, knowing that he would want to know about your new crush and help you navigate it, because Tim is shit with his own feelings but he's got a penchant for helping others with their own.

"Thanks for being considerate. I wouldn't have minded helping you, you know.", Tim says. Another lie. It would have absolutely fucking killed him to help you, but at least he would have seen this coming. At least he could have prepared.

Kon squeezes you into his side, and then releases you so he can pour himself a drink. His bright blue eyes, kind and piercing, prompt Tim to speak again. "And, Kon - come on, buddy. Why didn't you say anything to me?"

Kon chuckles warmly. "I guess I didn't really realise what I was feeling, you know? I mean, I knew that it was different, but I didn't exactly know what it meant... or how to explain it."

Another piece of the puzzle falls into place. There's a domino effect in Tim's mind and right now he hates how intelligent he is, wishes he could turn it off for a second if only so that he would stop making deductions about this relationship that's sprung up right under his nose.

"You made the first move, then?", he asks, directed at you, and he can feel his smile starting to slip. There are beads of water on your waist in the wake of Kon's touch.

You let out a small, almost embarrassed laugh - Kon returns to your side, not touching you this time, but still standing in a way that makes it seem as though he's protecting you. "You could put it that way. I mean, nothing's official yet - no one even knows other than you and Steph and Jon, we're still figuring it out. We don't wanna make a big deal, you know?'

Tim doesn't know. He nods anyway. "I'm happy for you both."

The smile on his lips - vodka, ice, fruit - falters just a little too much and he knows Kon notices it. Bright blue eyes soften in worry, his mouth moves to ask if Tim's alright, but Tim just glances back at you; small smile on your lips, golden sun in your hair, happy.

"I'll have to go make sure that Bruce and Jason aren't in danger of blowing us all up in a gas explosion. I'll catch up with you two after.", Tim says, just before Kon can get any words out. He gestures aimlessly in the direction of the barbecue, and you and Kon nod in unison - together, a couple - and Tim throws back the last of his drink before he leaves.

He should be happy for you - he is, in a way, glad that Kon's found someone he can be vulnerable with and you've found someone who makes you happy. He should have been more convincing - he doesn't want either of you to worry. He should have seen this coming. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He should never have let himself start feeling anything for you in the first place.

Maybe, Tim thinks as he heads into the cool air of the manor and slips into a quiet room, closing the door behind him - maybe, if you hadn't have kissed him on the cheek, it would've been easier. He could've kept telling himself that this was just a stupid, summer crush, and it would've went away by the time the first snow fell in Gotham, and if worst came to worst he could've called Steph and distracted himself for a few nights. The thought of that, of touching anyone else, makes him feel sick now.

Tim runs his hands through his hair and tugs desperately at the ends. He has no idea how he's meant to come back out to the barbecue, watch Kon kiss the taste of sweet alcohol off your lips, think about Kon's hands on your body - he can't do this. He can't.

#dc #dcmultiverse #dc heroes #tim drake #tim drake x reader #timothy drake #Timothy Drake x reader #kon el #kon el kent #conner kent #kon el x reader #conner kent x reader #red robin #red robin x reader #superboy #superboy x reader #angst #batman #batfam

[dreamescapeswriting]

Try With Me ~ JHS [M] [Request]

➳➳➳Word Count: 2,900

➳➳➳Genre: SMUT!!! Filthy smut ;)

➳➳➳WARNINGS: This includes Hoseok x reader x girlfriend so it’s a threesome with a girl. Mentions of Oral both F!Receiving and M!Receiving, threesome, pet names, sex toys, multiple orgasms,

➳➳➳Paring: Jung Hoseok x Reader x Girlfriend

➳➳➳A/N: This is only my second time writing a threesome so I hope it’s okay, I’ve always been unsure about writing smut cause I struggle with it haha but I do enjoy writing it as long as it turns out okay

When you first bet your best friend you were almost starstruck she was beautiful in every way humanly possible it was as if someone had created her from Marble and she was supposed to stand beside Aphrodite among the Goddesses of beauty.

"You okay?" You were pulled from your daydream once she waved her hand in front of your face and you nodded at her, coming back to Earth. She'd brought you out to lunch to meet her new boyfriend and he seemed great, Jung Hoseok. He was into music and dancing so he was a great fit for your friend.

"Yeah, just daydreaming." You said leaning forward and taking a sip of your drink, Hoseok had his eyes on you the whole time. He was dating your best friend but there was no denying how beautiful you were as well, he looked at his girlfriend and smiled.

"So, what are you guys going to do at the weekend?" He asked, trying to distract himself from the thoughts running through his head. You were wearing a low cut top and his eyes would keep travelling to look at you, not that anyone had even noticed. You and your friend began to talk but he was too lost in his world to listen, he'd seen you in photos and videos and you seemed practically perfect beside the fact that you weren't interested in him and he was already dating someone...your best friend.

"Just a girls weekend, drinks, the usual just lots of fun." You said and his ears perked up,

"Not too much fun." He joked making you and Steph giggle to one another, drinking with Steph always led to flirting which went nowhere or the occasional kiss you never spoke about again but you weren't about to tell her boyfriend that.

"We'll be on our best behaviour, Sir," Hearing you say that sent a tingle through his body and he tried to hide how aroused it made him from just a comment.

"I promise." Steph laughed along with you not noticing her boyfriend's situation, he just chuckled along with you both and tried to ignore the pressing issues downstairs.

"I bought new cards so we can have a few drinking games again." You said to her going back into your own conversation, Hoseok looked through his phone to try and ignore everything going on around him. Trying to remind himself that he was dating Steph because he liked her, you were just someone he was attracted to.

"I will kick your ass at poker, you always end up losing." Steph laughed and Hoseok watched you both interacting, watching how your hand lingered on her leg or hands whenever she touched you. He knew the signs well enough to know you had a crush on her.

"I should get going, I have work at 3, I'll see you at yours tomorrow?" You said as you got up from the table, Steph got up and embraced you in a huge hug and you probably held on for longer than you should have because you could see Hoseok eyeing you up.

"Nice to meet you Hoseok," You said as you shook his hand before leaving the cafe,

"She's great right?" Steph asked sitting beside Hoseok and laying her head on his shoulder, he said nothing but he kept his eyes on you as you walked away. He wanted to see you again and not just as Steph's friend, he knew it was wrong but he couldn't help but feel that way. You seemed perfect to him but so did Steph, his head was all over the place.

"I think I'll hang out with the boys tomorrow since you're having a girls night." She hummed at him,

"Sounds like a good idea." He nodded and they continued their lunch date in the cafe.

The night started off great but now you were both tipsy and starting to sway a little. You'd gone to her apartment straight after work with bottles of alcohol and cards, as well as drinking games you'd found on the internet.

"I say!" Steph started but never finished because she down a shot, she cleared her throat before speaking again.

"We play...." She looked around as if someone in the apartment could hear her which made you laugh, Hoseok had left right as you walked through the door.

"Strip poker." You sobered up almost instantly and she giggled loudly,

"I think you've had too much to drink." She scoffed at you and shook her head,

"I'm fine. Let's play strip poker." She shuffled the cards and you watched nervously as she began dealing the cards, you'd been naked around each other before loads of times. You were so close it was normal at this point, always on the phone to one another when the other was in the bath and sometimes you took a shower while she had a bath. It was just a normal thing to you both now but somehow this felt different.

Hoseok and Steph had had a conversation about you earlier in the night. He admitted to Steph that he found you attractive and ut didn't start a fight like he thought it would have done, instead Steph seemed to be entertained by the idea of him having a crush on you and told him to have fun tonight before kissing him goodbye.

"What's going on with you? You've barely touched your drink?" Jimin said once he noticed Hoseok staring into space,

"Steph has Y/n around tonight..."

"Y/n? Y/n Y/l/n?" Jimin questioned and Hoseok nodded taking his cup and drinking from it, Jimin rushed to get his phone out and began scrolling from Steph's Instagram until he found the video he'd been looking for.

"This one?" It was a photo of Steph and you sitting together in a bar and Hoseok nodded wondering what Jimin was going with this until he slid the image over and there was a video of you and Steph making out in front of the camera and holding up your middle fingers.

"Y/n's boyfriend had cheated on her, there are so many videos of them like this." Jimin laughed and now everything was falling into place, why Steph seemed so calm about Hoseok having a crush on you.

"I have to go." He got up leaving Jimin alone at the table and he went on the hunt for a cab.

"Steph, come on. Put a shirt on." You laughed as she ran around the living room without her top on but she was adamant she didn't need one.

"Kiss me and I will." You stared at her in shock, you stopped in place and she walked over to you.

"Kiss me." She whispered getting closer to your face, you looked at her lips and then back to her eyes.

"You're just drunk-" You were cut off when her hands cupped your face and she kissed you your hands sat on her waist and you pulled her closer to you.

"Fuck." You mumbled against her lips letting the world melt away from you both, she sat you down on the sofa and lifted your shirt off you.

"Now we're on an even playing field." She teased kissing you once again and then attaching her lips to your neck, you let a moan out and she giggled at you.

"S-Shit, stop. Steph." She pulled away from you but stay seated on your lap,

"I can't do this, you're with Hoseok and I...I- This isn't going to be just some fling to me." You stuttered out and she smiled at you running her hand along your cheek,

"Who said it was a fling to me?" She whispered kissing you again making you both breathless. She pushed your pants down and kept kissing you, making her way onto your neck and sucking along the skin. She spread your legs and ran her fingers along the inner of your thigh slowly smiling against your lips as you let out little whines.

"Stay here," She whispered in your ear dropping down from your lap and onto the floor in front of you, she dragged you forward and she attached herself onto your clit, sucking and flicking in a way only a woman would know how to do.

"Oh fuck." You cried out as she continued her attack on you, your hands landed in her hair and you bucked your hips into her mouth, she smirked up at you with lust in her eyes and she forced you to look at her.

"D-Don't stop." You moaned out but she stopped and slapped you across the clit,

"I think you're missing something from that sentence," You whined at the sudden loses of contact.

"Please don't stop." She continued her attack and slipped her tongue into you making your head roll back against the sofa as she continued to eat you out.

"S-So close." You mumbled your hands tugging on her hair and making her moan against you only making you weaker from the vibrations coming from her. Her thumb circled your clit and she pushed two fingers inside of you making a come here motion that sent you over the edge.

"Steph." You whined out as you came around her fingers and on her tongue, she pulled away and began kissing you. You could taste yourself but you didn't care,

"You taste amazing Y/n," She whispered as the front door opened. In walked Hoseok who was sweating because he'd run home instead of getting a cab.

"Hobi," Steph whined at him and you watched as they had a silent conversation together.

It had been silent for a little while and you were now dressed in your shirt trying to hide your body from Hoseok who for some reason unknown to you, didn't seem mad that he'd just walked in on this.

"He has a small crush on you," Steph told you which shocked you,

"But you're dating-"

"I don't mind sharing," Steph said to you both making you look between them both, Hoseok was nodding in agreement it wasn't something he was opposed to.

"You mean-"

"A polyamorous relationship...If you're up for it." Steph finished, she sat behind you and kissed your neck.

"Because I don't think I could ever get enough of you." Your eyes were on Hoseok as she kissed you, his eyes were filled with lust and you couldn't lie...It was turning you on more than anything.

"I'm willing to try." You whispered and that was all they both needed. Steph's lips were on your neck while Hoseok sat in front of you and kissed you.

"Maybe we should go somewhere comfortable," Hoseok suggested noticing that the sofa wasn't the best place for something like this, you nodded and you all walked towards the staircase.

Hoseok kissed you while you unbuttoned his shirt, Steph was somewhere in the room but she'd left you to do something. Every touch he was giving you made your heart skip a beat, you'd never been attracted to him before but this was exciting to you. Steph's hands were on your chest making you jump a little, she smirked before taking your right nipple into her mouth giving it some attention while Hoseok sucked along your neck.

"What do you want baby?" Hoseok whispered in your ear making you moan out at the name.

"I w-want to taste Steph." She giggled from behind you and Hoseok turned you around to face her placing you on all fours.

"Fuck you're so hot." He mumbled as he watched you both begin to make out in front of him, he took his member into his hand and began to pump slowly. You didn't hesitate, you spread Steph's legs like she had yours and attached yourself onto her clit, wasting no time. You wanted her to cum for you as you'd cum for herm her head was back against the pillow moaning out your name. Hoseok bent down behind you and began to eat you out from behind causing you to moan against Steph's clit,

"H-Holy fuck." She cried out gripping onto the sheets around her as she tried to hold off her orgasm, she was on cloud nine and never wanted this to end. You sighed against her core when Hoseok's tongue began twirling around you and making your legs shake.

"Fuck Hobi just like that." You moaned out as you continued to pump two fingers into Steph your free hand gripped onto Steph's thighs as you felt the band tightening in your stomach.

"She's gonna cum, look at that fucked out face." Steph moaned out making you blush a bright colour so you delved back into her to make her cum with you.

Each lick from Hoseok brought you closer to your release and each moan coming from your mouth made Steph cry out.

"G-Gonna-" You couldn't even finish because as you came around Hoseok's tongue Steph pushed her hips against your face as she road out her high.

"Shit, I-I need a minute." You cried out as Steph kissed your thighs, licking up your juices that had spilt down them, Hoseok chuckled at the sight and watched as you looked up at him.

"What is it, baby?" Steph whispered against your ear as she bit down on your ear lobe.

"I want to feel him." She looked at you and then over at Hoseok who was staring at his girlfriend.

"Then feel him," You got up and crawled over to him on the bed, he watched as you took his member into your mouth, slowly swirling your tongue around his tip before taking him all the way into your mouth.

"Fuck." He grunted bucking his hips a little as he looked down at you. Steph had gone to her side of the room and grabbed something but you were too busy concentrating on pleasuring Hoseok to notice.

"Take her Hobi," You pulled away from him and a string of salvia dropped from your lips only turning Hoseok on more. You looked over at Steph who was spread out on the bed with a vibrator against her clit, she was teasing herself as she watched you and Hoseok.

"I have him all the time, take him." She smirked at you, Hoseok began kissing you softly and laid your back down against the bed, he wanted to see the fucked out face that Steph had seen earlier.

"Are you sure about this?" He questioned as he kissed your neck, your legs wrapped around his waist and you nodded.

"Positive." You mumbled kissing his lips, he slowly eased into you and you felt bliss everywhere over your body, it felt as though you were float and Hoseok held himself deep inside of you hitting your G-spot without trying.

"Fuck." You moaned out as you looked over at Steph who was mimicking the way Hoseok had thrust into you.

"Focus on me baby," Hoseok whispered turning your face to look at him, you stared up into his eyes as he began to slowly thrust in and out of you to let you get used to his size.

Once he knew you were adjusted enough his thrusts became rough and fast-paced, he'd been craving this since the moment he walked through the front door and saw you coming down from your orgasm,

"Look at you, you're a mess." He chuckled making you moan out his name as he continued to hit your g-spot with each thrust, your mind as a mess and you couldn't think straight. Hoseok felt you clenching around him with each thrust,

"So tight baby girl, are you close already?" You couldn't form words so you just nodded eagerly continuing to clench whenever he hit that spot that sent you wild. Hoseok turned your face to look over at Steph who was a moaning mess,

"You're going to cum together, got that?" You whined out as you felt his thrusts slow.

"Yes, Yes I understand." You whined out and he picked up the pace once again, lifting one of your legs from his waist and hanging it over your shoulder so he could reach deeper as if it was somehow possible.

"Shit, H-Hoseok please I can't-." You moaned out trying to get him to let you cum, you were a mess and your breathing was starting to become rapid.

"I'm close H-Hobi." Steph moaned out and your eyes looked up at Hosoek who was grunting out as he thrust into you,

"Cum for me girls." He chuckled darkly and you cried out as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm, your eyes rolling back is what sent Hoseok over the edge, spilling into you as you clenched around him tightly.

"Fuck." He grunted pulling out of you and falling down next to you on the bed. All three of you were panting messes as you looked at one another.

"That was fucking amazing." You whispered looking at Hoseok and then to Steph who had a giant smile across her face,

"I'm glad you think so because I want it to happen again." You both looked at Hoseok for confirmation that this was okay.

"I'm sure we could make it work." He added looking between you.

"I'll go run a bath," He whispered lovingly, kissing you both on the foreheads and walking towards the en-suite bathroom with a giant smile across his face.

Tagline: 

@yoongisdumplingcheeks​ @snowy-meowl​ @lynnthevirgo​ @yourguessisasgoodasminemate​ @kpopfanfictionhoes​ @btsiguess-kpop​ @lyoongx​ @callingmyangel​ @fan-ati--c​ @rjsmochii​ @mitzwinchester​

#bts #bts x reader #bts x you #bts x y/n #bts smut #bts imagine #bts imagines #kim seokjin #seokjin #jin #min yoongi #yoongi #suga #jung hoseok #hoseok #hoseok x reader #hoseok smut #jung hoseok x reader #jung hoseok smut #kim namjoon #namjoon #park jmin #jimin #kim taehyung #taehyung #jeon jungkook #jungkook

[animemangasoul]

We Parted Ways A Long Time Ago

Summery: Lucius Fox is Tim's emergency contact number.

In which Bruce and Tim have drifted apart and Bruce doesn't realize it until it's little too late

Chapter: 1/4

He’s out the door and in his car, driving full speed to the hospital before the remote can hit the carpet.  

Today had been one of those rare days Bruce got to himself. Those once in a blue moon days where all his kids were accounted for but busy enough with their own interests that he’d somehow come out the other end with nothing better to do but relax on the couch.  

Dick had been upstairs reading; Jason in the kitchen baking with Alfred, Steph and Damian accompanying Cass to her ballet recital and Duke out of the country with his family. Everything had been normal, calm. Too normal. Bruce should have known. Should have noticed that one of the kids had been unaccounted for. 

Tim had been unaccounted for.

Swerving around the corner, his grip tightened around the staring wheel, and Bruce tried to breathe through the constricting feeling in his chest.  

Bruce life was always hectic, and he was fine with it. He’d signed his life away to the job many years ago and he’d made his peace with that. Gotham needed both Bruce Wayne and Batman and the Billionaire had readily given it both. But that demanding life came with its own set of sacrifices and it had made Bruce a jaded and broken man. The time he spent with his kids had practically shrunk to nothing and his family had drifted apart, no longer connected under similar goals and similar trust of warmth and love.

It was only after his death that he’d recognized his shortcomings. Only after Tim had practically dragged him from the abyss that he’d finally taken a closer look at what he’d become and actively tried to mend fences. He had started with Dick. His son who had almost broken under the pressure to live up to his name. They’d sat down and talked things out.  

There had been a lot of hugs and reassuring words, but Dick had always been the forgiving one. The kind one. The son he didn’t deserve, so despite his failings, his oldest son had practically folded into his arms the moment he had voiced his apology, and slowly, ever so slowly their relationship had built up from there.

Then of course came Jason whose hatred for him boiled over the edges and burned. Burned his skin of his flesh, flesh of bones and bones of soul. But he’d persisted. Hung on tight as his second oldest trashed, screamed, punched and fought, but Bruce hadn’t let him go. Had chased him to the end of the world and told him as many times as Jason needed to hear that he loved him. He loved him so so much and “won’t you come home son”?

It took weeks, months, but eventually his second oldest did come in from the cold and while he spent most of his time solely with Alfred, the fact that he was even here; under the same roof, and actively participating in family dinners.... Bruce couldn’t ask for more.  

Cassandra wasn’t home much, but the frequent phone calls with his only daughter and her uncanny ability to make things a little less awkward between him and Stephanie had made their conversations worth every second that he took to speak with her. She was so easy to talk to and the warmth in her voice... Bruce loved her and through her, he’d gotten to know Stephanie, and it was as if his family was ever so slowly starting to mend. And the hope he’d built with the others had given him the strength to finally take the last steps to fix whatever that had been broken between him and Damian.

His youngest had been different from the others. There weren’t as much history between him and Damian. Not as much disappointment and let downs. For his youngest son, he was still unblemished, untarnished. He still was a hero not a man. It was difficult to get past the image of perfection Damian had created during his death and it was hard to sit down and get to know his son. And it hurt.... it hurt seeing him treat Dick the way Bruce deep down wanted to be treated by his son, butwith patience and time. Bruce has swallowed down his restlessness, his frustration and taken the time to get to know his son. Let down his guards little by little and let his boy see him for who he was and.... he’d seen it. That look. The curious tilt of the head, the spying as Damian trailed behind him; albeit trying not to be noticed, as his son got more intrigued by the man behind the mask rather than just the Batman himself, and....

If that didn’t make Bruce feel elated.  

The first time Damian laughed in his presence is probably one of the best days Bruce had ever experienced in the entirety of his life. Watching his son turn beat red; tiny hands coming up to clap over his mouth as he tried and failed to hold back his uncontrollable giggles. Yes.... yes, Bruce would never forget that moment.  

It would forever be ingrained in the fondest corner of his mind along with all the precious memories he’d made of his family.  

Now, as he hurried to park his car, almost forgetting to turn of the engine in his stumbling haste to get to the hospital, he wondered how long it had been since he last had a conversation with Tim.  

“Excuse me,” he said to the receptionist, looking mildly frazzled where he was leaning against the desk. “Can you tell me where Tim Wayne is?”

The old woman was halfway through a polite refusal when she looked up. Eyes widening and mouth falling open, she quickly scrambled to type something into her computer. “Oh,” she said. “So sorry Mr. Wayne. He’s in room 204. Right down the hall.” She pointed. Thin lips forming a hesitant smile. “Sorry for the misunderstanding. Too many unsavory people want to know your son’s location and I-”

Bruce cut her off with a head shake. “I understand. Thank you for looking out for him.”

With that he made his way down the hall, hands stuffed in his pocket and looking for all the world like a man unburdened, all the while his mind raising as to why Tim hadn’t called him the minute he was able. His son had apparently collapsed on his way out of Wayne Enterprises and had been quickly rushed off to the hospital.  

If it hadn’t been for the news, if Bruce hadn’t been lazily shifting through the channels; too bored to put on a movie, he might have missed the incident all together.  

His son was in the hospital and he hadn’t been called.  

Maybe he should have asked the receptionist?

He was all his children’s emergency contact number. He should have been notified. Maybe it was an oversight on their part, or maybe Tim had refused to let them call. He was stubborn that way. Still, Bruce frowned, reading the numbers as he quickened his pace.  

Not calling him would result in his boy having no one here with him in his time of need, and that was unacceptable.  

Finally reaching the right room he knocked. Not waiting for an answer, he twisted the doorknob and let himself in. “Tim, kiddo how are you--” he came to an abrupt stop.

Tim wasn’t alone.

Bruce hadn’t expected him to be alone. He’d expected a doctor or a nurse or a medical staff of some kind to be there. What he hadn’t expected however, was Lucius Fox sitting by his son’s bedside chuckling about something while patting Tim’s hair.  

Blinking in surprise, Bruce faltered. And it was then Tim turned around and saw him.

“Bruce!”

“Tim.” He nodded, shaking the wariness off. “Lucius.”

His son smiled up at him. It wasn’t wide, it wasn’t overly sweet but it was friendly and familiar. Still, it wasn’t the one Bruce remembered before his death—It looked foreign on the kid’s face and Tim looked so tired. So very tired, that something at the very depth of Bruce soul ached.  

“What are you doing here?”

For a second Bruce thought the question had left his lips, but it didn’t. Instead his son was looking at him, still a friendly tilt to his lips but confusion crinkling at the corner of his eyes. Bruce frowned back. “I saw the news,” he said stepping closer; fingers coming to rest on the bed railings. “I heard you collapsed at the fundraiser, so I came to check on you.”

“Oh.”

The words come out airy and Tim inclines his head a little. “Wow.... thanks Bruce. That’s really nice of you! But I’m fine. The nurse called Lucius and everything seems to be fine.” Here he turns slightly to smile up at the man next to him. Said man reaching out to ruffle his hair as if it was a second nature. Bruce frown deepen. “I think I just overworked myself.” A shrug. “But the doctor said I could leave so you shouldn’t worry.”  

Overworked....

Bruce hadn’t had the time to check up on his middle son and he knew the kid had been overworking himself, of course he did. Anyone who knew the younger vigilante could tell that he was taking on more work than was heavenly possible, but he’d assumed the kid could handle it. Tim had to have learned to pace himself, right?

Years of working under him and independently most have thought him something. And yet, here he was. Laying on a hospital bed. Face ashen and limbs trembling ever so slightly.

He opened his mouth to say something. To refute Tim’s ability to take care of himself, to drag him home and scold him, but just as he’d made up his mind, Lucius moved. Head tilting downward and arm coming to rest on the younger’s shoulder; squeezing it once before letting it rest there.  

“We’ve talked about this Tim,” he said; voice warm but the stern scolding behind it unmistakable. And by the way Tim looked away in guilt he’d heard it too. “I know our current project is draining all of us, but you need to take a breather every once in a while, son.”

And, Bruce flinches at the last word.  

It’s not even something new, there is nothing specific about the word ‘son’ that almost makes him recoil in anger. Lucius had always talked like that to all his kids. It was normal.  

What wasn’t normal was Tim’s reaction to the word.

His son... his son uncoils as he hears it. Stiff muscles relaxing and face lifting into more of a sheepish smile the minute Lucius addresses him in that familial way and.... and....

Nausea almost rises up Bruce’s throat as Tim practically leans into Lucius. His old friend, running a hand through the matted hair; looking mildly amused yet exasperated. “Tim,” he says, words still stern, but Tim only hums back, pressing his face even further into the businessman’s chest.  

“I know Lucius. I know.”

“Good. Now you understand that I’ll take care of everything while you take a break, right?”

Bruce expects Tim to vehemently deny the suggestion. Refuse the rest and insist that he was fine. That he can handle it. That he’s ok to continue working and ‘I can handle myself Bruce. I don’t need you to worry about me.’ But again, taking Bruce by surprise, all his kid does is nod tiredly into Lucius and mutter a soft ok.  

“I’m glad we’ve come to an agreement. Now,” the man says, gently pushing Tim away. “It’s about time to get you home.”

And that’s when Bruce snaps out of the stunned daze that had been keeping him trapped. The overwhelming chaos in his mind momentarily coming to a screeching halt as he raises his hand quicker than his mind can comprehend the action. “I’ll take him.”

Tim startles, but Lucius only fixes him with a smile; it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Are you sure?” His fingers are still running through Tim’s hair and Bruce’s stomach flips.  

“I’m sure,” he grits out.

Tim looks back and forth between them, lips pursed in confusion, but when neither seems to want to elaborate, he shrugs and smiles at Bruce. It’s friendly as ever albeit not as happy. Bruce relaxes under it. “Are you sure?”

The echo of the same question, this time from his son’s mouth makes Bruce stomach sink even further, but he tries not to show it. Instead grunting low and nodding. “Yes Tim. It will be no trouble at all.”

The smile turns into a grin and Tim flings the cover off himself. “Great. I’m already discharged so we can go.” Bruce silent question why he was still there if he was already discharged must be too readable, because his son shakes his head; humour dancing in his eyes. “Lucius wouldn’t let me go until he scolded me.” The words come out with an exaggerated incredulity, but the warmth coloring them are unmistakable and Bruce doesn’t like it. Doesn’t like it one it.

And for the life of him, he doesn’t know why that bothers him.

Still, “Let’s go Tim,” he says, waving the kid over with a sharp twist of his wrist while sending Lucius his signature Brucie smile. “We need to get you home.”

He tries to keep up that cheerful persona even has his muscles tense watching Tim; without hesitation lean forward to hug Lucius fox; his friend cupping his son’s face and telling him to call as soon as he’s home safe.  

Even as his son, his son only affords him a tiny smile in comparison to that overly friendly display of affection and he tries to keep the mask on as Lucius reaches out for a handshake, tone light as always but smile just one the side of plastic. “I’ll be seeing you Bruce?”

Bruce nods. “Of course.” He doesn’t let them linger. Putting an arm around Tim’s shoulders and leading him out the door the second the pleasant back and forth is over. “Goodbye Lucius. Say hi to Tam for me!”

---------

They are in the car when it finally hits him.  

“Tim,” he says, pulling out of the parking lot, eyeing his son. “How did Lucius know to come get you? I thought he was still on his week off. He couldn’t have seen your collapse.”

His son pauses on whatever he’s typing on his phone before looking up at him and shrugging. “I told you, the nurse called him.”

“Why?”

Something unpleasant is niggling at the back of his mind and Bruce grips the steering wheel tighter.

Tim shrugs again. Looking utterly confused. “He’s my emergency contact Bruce. I’m sure they saw his name on my medical records or something, I don’t know. It's not the first time they had to call him.”

Bruce freezes.  

Sensing that something most have shifted in the air, Tim stills too.  

But his son is confused. It’s so obvious that Tim doesn’t understand what has upset Bruce. Because the kid is fidgeting, fingers absentmindedly tapping at the back of his phone while his feet are wriggling on the floor. Bruce may have not spent as much time with Tim has he should have lately but he still remembers the kid’s habit, and the fact was that Tim had no idea why this new piece of information had suddenly and violently shattered Bruce’s idea of their relationship.

Breathing in deeply Bruce holds it for ten seconds before letting it out. He does that three times until his heart-rate his back to normal and his fingers don’t feel as clammy anymore.  

“How many times have you ended up at the hospital since my return?” he asks, careful to keep his voice even and his eyes forward. Right now that was the safest question and Bruce desperately wanted to know everything without asking for it directly.

His son flips his phone a couple of times as he mutters nonsense under his breath. “Five times?” he finally answered, sounding unsure even of that. “Maybe seven?”

Bruce’s breath hitches. But he has to know. “And Lucius picked you up every time?”

“Yeah?”

Taking a left turn a bit too sharply than safely allowed, Bruce gritted his teeth. “You couldn’t call me?”

“No?”

Bruce tenses. “Why not?” The mild befuddlement in Tim’s voice only serves to make him even more adamant in fixing this. Them. Whatever this was.  

Whatever that happened to have broken between them to the point that Tim did not even consider him as his emergency contact anymore.

“You were dead,” his son says, sounding amused. “And then you were super busy with your family so I just kept Lucius as my emergency contact.” He looks out the window and shrugs. “It made things less complicating. And...” Here he smiles faintly; a ghost of what his smile used to be but not any less genuine. “Lucius tends to freak out when I don’t call him after an accident so I thought it would be good for him to know.”

There was so much Bruce wanted to address in that answer, so much, but before he’d even had time to formulate his thought Tim spoke up again. “You missed the turn.”

Focusing back on the road, Bruce shook his head. “No I didn’t.” They were fifteen minutes away from home. Bruce wasn’t that old to have forgotten where the manor was located and he tells Tim just that, trying to lighten up the mood.  

It works.

His son barking a high-pitched laughter only to slap a hand across his mouth, failing to muffle the sound.  

Bruce can’t help but smile at the action.

“Don’t worry Bruce. You’re still a couple of years away from the gray hairs.”

“Just a couple?”

Tim grins. “Yes a couple. For real though Bruce. My apartment is only a couple of blocks away. You need to take the next turn coming up or we will have to take the long way back.”

Bruce’s heart stops. “Your apartment?” He hadn’t even thought of his son not coming home with him.

Sure Tim hadn’t been at the manor for months, but that’s because he was busy and Bruce had so much on his hands with the rest of his kids.  

Working on getting to know them and catching up with the life he’d missed. He understandable hadn’t had time for his middle son, but that didn’t mean his kid didn’t have a home with them anymore. And with him sick, surely he would want Alfred’s cooking and a nice bed to sleep in with family surrounding him on all sides? “Don’t you want to see Alfred and your siblings again?”

Tim doesn’t miss a beat. In fact he sounds very sure of himself. “Course I do Bruce. But I’m pretty tired and I don’t feel like dealing with all the noise and death threats and stuff. So please drop me off at my apartment.”

Death threats?

Was he talking about Damian?  

Didn’t Tim know that Damian had become a lot more mellow ever since his return? Sure his youngest hadn’t always been the nicest to Tim, but for Tim to hold those minor strife against him and use that as an excuse to avoid the manor? Bruce frowned.  

He had thought better of his Robin.  

“I’m sure they miss you son,” he says, leveling his second youngest with a look. “Why don’t you come and stay for dinner at least.”

Tim is already shaking his head before he can even finish the sentence. “No can-do Bruce. I need to rest, and I’ve got other plans today so maybe another time?”

It’s one of Tim’s ‘there is no arguing with me tone’. A tone Bruce had learned not to ignore in his years of trying to get Tim out of his shell, so despite the insistent need of having his son near clawing at his throat, he resists.  

Still....

“Tomorrow it is then,” he says, taking the turn as it appears. “Alfred will be delighted.”

Tim looks startled, but a blank mask quickly descends over his features and he shrugs again. “Sure Bruce. I can work with that.”

“Great. I’ll pick you up.”

“There’s really no nee-”

“Tim,” he says. “I’ll pick you up.”

His son nods and turns away to stare out the window, a tiny amused smile curling around his lips.

The rest of the drive is taken in silence and Bruce, well Bruce, no matter how many times he opens and closes his mouth is not able to say anything. He can’t manage to strike up a conversation. Can’t for the life of him even remember a topic of interest he can discuss with his kid that doesn’t revolve around work.

God, when was the last time he’d had a sit down with his middle son and just talked?

He’d talked to Dick early this morning.  

A quick reminder not to forget their movie night and a hair ruffle as his son had escaped his hold and skipped up the stairs. Jason he’d talked to just an hour before he’d seen Tim on the news. Complimenting his second oldest on how great of a baker he was and as for Damian and Cass and Duke and Steph.... he could distinctly remember the many conversations he’d had with them this week. The exasperation, the annoyance, the fondness..... he remembered it all. So why couldn’t he recall the last time he and Tim talked?

How long had it been?

A huff of laughter startles him out of his chain of thoughts and he looks over. Sees that Tim is on his phone, typing away with the largest and most impish grin on his face. Bruce heart tightens.  

When was the last time he’d seen Tim so happy?

‘In the hospital,’ a traitorous voice hisses in the back of his mind. ‘With Lucius Fox.’ Bruce elects to ignore it. Instead coughing lightly and avert his gaze.

“Who’re you talking to?”

Tim takes a second to type something back before he chuckles again and grins up at Bruce. “It’s just Kon. Bart is doing something stupid and he doesn’t know how to handle it.”

Bruce tries to smile; it turns out more like a grimace. Tim doesn’t notice, being too busy grinning at his phone. “You’re still close then?”

“Of course,” his son scoffs, looking incredulously up at him. “Why wouldn’t we be? Just because they died doesn’t mean they aren’t my friends anymore?”

‘I died and you seem fine without me,’ Bruce wants to snap, but he doesn’t. He would not let himself stoop that low. Not when Tim was slowly slipping out of his hands and he didn’t know what to do to keep him there.  

“That’s good.” he says instead; his smile a little bit more genuine this time. “I’m glad.”

“Thanks Bruce. Oh!” Bruce looks over and Tim is pointing out the window. “We’re here. Just park in that spot thanks.”

Bruce tightens his grip around the wheel and does as told. Almost holding his breath as he comes to a stop. It’s as if his body is expecting something, anything. Something that will make everything ok. Fix what was broken and bring them back to how they used to be. Bring back the Tim that needed him, the Tim that wanted to spend time with him but...

“Goodnight Bruce!” And with those few words, Tim is out the door and steadily vanishing behind cars; a last enthusiastic wave all that he leaves behind. Bruce doesn’t know for how long he sits there in the parking lot. Hands on the wheel and teeth chewing at his lips, but by the time he finally pulls out and begins the drive home, his mind has been made up.

He was going to get Tim back. Whatever it took.  

He wasn’t ready to lose his son.  

@miss-choco-chips wanted to write a fic where Tim wasn’t the one angsting and it was actually Bruce while Tim was fine with his wholeass new family and Bruce was left floundering. Hope you like it. Kinda nervous since all your new fics are literally the best thing that ever happened to me.

@throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen New Tim fic I wrote. Hope it’s your cup of tea. This time Bruce be angsting.

#Tim Drake #bruce wayne #lucius fox #red robin #batman #Batfamily Fanfic #batfamily #batfam #batman fanfic #batman fanfiction #batfic #tim drake fanfic #lucius is tim's father figure #and he's doing a great job #happytim au

[irelise]

the yew tree - end!

Erik has worked with Sebastian Shaw ever since Shaw rescued him from human experimentation when he was a boy. He is reluctantly enlisted to assist in Shaw’s newest scheme: seducing the wealthy and enigmatic Lord Xavier to claim his vast fortune. With Shaw posing as Xavier’s doctor, Erik goes undercover as Xavier’s personal manservant to convince him to fall in love with Shaw.

But Xavier has secrets of his own, and it isn’t long before Erik starts having second thoughts about the whole thing…

Featuring mysteries, hidden agendas, and a whole heap of master/servant tropes. (the handmaiden inspired au - no canon knowledge required

part one and two now on ao3!

beginning of part 3)

Warnings for this part: References to past abuse Rating: M Word count: 1986 Notes: I CAN’T BELIEVE IT IT’S FINALLY FINISHED!!! special thanks to akasanata, steph, kernezelda, and gerec for the support, couldn’t have finished this on my own! I’ll be editing over the next few days and uploading to Ao3 soon!

The next few days stutter past in an odd series of mismatched rhythms. Sometimes the hours drag by, agonizingly slow. Other times, Erik feels like he has no time to even breathe with the amount of activity unravelling around him. Shaw’s body is handled with minimal fuss; the police rule it as an accident, drug overdose, case closed. Shaw is quietly and ignominiously forgotten by the humans.

Not so in the mutant community. Shaw’s death had left a power vacuum, and much of Erik’s time is now spent wrestling for control over the various factions now embroiled in petty squabbles. The safehouse becomes filled with the constant stink of sulphur as Azazel teleports in and out, ferrying messages and occasionally delivering a mutant for Erik to glare into submission.

“It would be easier if I just take you with me,” Azazel grumbles after one such delivery.

“Not a chance,” Erik replies shortly.

He can’t leave. Charles is still recuperating. He doesn’t wake at all that first day, and Erik would have been out of his mind with worry had their thoughts not remained so closely entwined with each other. Charles’ presence remains a warm glow at the back of his head, faint but steady.

He’ll be fine. He has to be.

The second day is worse. Midway through the afternoon, Erik is attacked by a flare of stabbing pain, fierce enough to drive him to his knees. He clutches at his head and bites back a groan – it’s like someone is driving a pick right between his eyes, like he’s being stabbed, his skull split open–

The pain stops abruptly. Charles’ presence vanishes with it.

Fuck. Taking the stairs two at a time, Erik slams into Charles’ room. “Charles!”

Charles had moved from where he was peacefully asleep earlier. Now, he’s a small, dark shape on the bed, curled into himself, the blankets drawn over his head. Erik crosses the room in quick strides. “You’re awake?”

“Unfortunately.” The word is muffled by the blankets. “Migraine.”

And that was that. The pain is bad enough this time that Charles has forming words, and he adamantly refuses to link his mind with Erik’s again. When Erik pictures his thoughts reaching out for Charles, Charles only shakes his head and winces. “I can’t stop myself from projecting the migraine,” he says tiredly, the stubborn martyr. “I don’t want you to share it.”

Erik would have pressed the point, but something about Charles softens his hard edges, and he reluctantly concedes the point. It doesn’t stop him from climbing into bed with Charles, a stack of reports in his lap.

When Charles reaches out to lace their fingers together, Erik lets him, absently running his thumb over the knuckles of Charles’ hand.

Charles’ migraine doesn’t abate that day, or the next. It’s not until the morning of the fourth day Erik wakes to find Charles smiling softly at him. He’s pale, his eyes smudged with dark circles, but the sight of him properly awake and alive is sweeter than Erik had ever imagined. He lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding in.

“You look tired,” Charles remarks, and it’s just like him to fret over Erik when he was the one who almost died from holding onto Shaw. Erik can’t help but laugh, just a touch reluctant, and shakes his head.

“I could say the same.” His voice is rough. He almost stops there, but then the words come spilling out: “I thought I lost you.”

A frown ripples over Charles’ face, then smooths into a look of resolve. “Shaw had to be stopped.”

“…He did.” And Erik would have killed him at the expense of his own life, but Charles’… Charles hasn’t even had the chance to truly live yet. He had demanded too much of him, he sees that now. “But I should have been more patient. Spent more time planning. Made sure you understood the dangers. What we did was incredibly risky.”

Still, he thinks about Shaw’s plans to consummate his sham marriage with Charles, and something cold and ugly twists in Erik’s gut.

Charles is scrutinizing him, his expression thoughtful but impossible to read. “I wouldn’t have said no to more time spent planning,” he finally says. “But, Erik, you mustn’t feel guilty. My choices were my own.”

“I know you didn’t want to kill Shaw.”

Charles’ mouth twists. “You didn’t force me into anything I didn’t want to do. Death is always a waste, yes, but for someone like Shaw…” He looks troubled, but only for a second. Then he looks Erik squarely in the eye. “I’ve been in his mind before. I’ve tried to reason with him. His pride and envy run deep, deeper than you can imagine. He would have never let you live. If it was a choice between him and you…”

Pressing his lips together, Charles shakes his head. “I don’t regret it,” he says with a sense of finality.

For a few moments, they sit together in thoughtful silence, then Erik asks: “Are you really going to go through with it?”

Four days ago – had it really only been four days? – during their telepathic conversation in the car, Charles had resolved to stop running away from Marko. More than that, he had resolved to fight back. Erik would have loved to track Marko down and kill him, but Charles already has plans. Plans that Erik isn’t sure he approves of, if he’s honest, but he concedes Charles has the right to his own revenge.

Justice, not vengeance, Charles had said into their shared link.

You’ll be ruining him either way.

Good.

Charles’ plan is a simple one on the surface: let the public know about Marko’s crimes. Drag his perversions into the light, his cruelty and his inhumanity. Let the public be his judge.

In the present, Charles is frowning. “Uncle and his associates cannot be allowed to walk free, you’ve convinced me of that. But informing the public of their crimes won’t just affect me. The truth about mutants may come out. Are we prepared for that?”

Erik had spent much of the last few days asking himself the same question. He has an answer now. “We’ve spent too long living in the shadows, in silence and in shame. Enough.”

“Do you think it’s that easy?”

“No. But I’ll fight to the last drop of blood to defend our people.”

“And you’d do the same for me,” Charles murmurs, sounding awed. He must have read the conviction from Erik’s thoughts.

Erik inclines his head, not seeing the need to say anything further.

“To be honest…” Charles exhales slowly, visibly steeling himself. “No, I don’t want to do this. Not everyone is going to believe me, you must know that, and many of them will be – unkind. But you’re right. I’m tired of the shame, Erik. I…”

He reaches out and Erik leans forward, allowing Charles to settle his fingers against his temples. Charles bites his lip.

Images rush into Erik’s mind. Suddenly they’re back in Marko’s twisted library again, then in the labs, only this time Erik is seeing himself from Charles’ perspective. It’s disorienting, made worse by the way the memories seem to skip around like a broken recording, weighed down by Charles’ fear and shame and despair. Erik sees himself raise a hand, sees an ugly wreckage of jagged steel and torn pages, red splattering everywhere. Charles’ memories don’t shy away from the violence of the scene. But rather than horror, Erik’s fury seemed to have inspired something else in Charles, muted and wavering but warm all the same.

Hope.

 4. BUSINESS MOGUL KURT MARKO FACES ALLEGATIONS OF SEXUAL ABUSE AND TORTURE FROM HIS NEPHEW The reclusive young Lord Xavier of Westchester breaks his silence today, stepping forward to accuse his uncle and legal guardian…[…]…Police investigations of the ancestral Xavier estate have revealed the presence of numerous obscene materials…[…]…Lord Xavier has also levied accusations at multiple business associates connected to Marko…

***

The water is at the perfect temperature. His limbs loose and languid with a pleasant post-coital haze, Charles relaxes deeper into the bathtub, smiling in drowsy contentment at the noises of Erik splashing around behind him. Eventually, Erik settles down, and Charles makes a pleased sound as Erik cards his fingers through his hair, scratching against his sensitive scalp with just the right amount of pressure.

“Oh yes, do that again, please.”

Erik obliges, and for a few minutes everything else melts away except for the comfort of Erik’s body bracketed around his, hot water lapping against their skin. But then Charles feels the gears of Erik’s mind clicking, purposeful and precise.

“I was going over some reports with Azazel earlier,” Erik’s voice is carefully even. “I don’t know if you’ve heard yet, but Kurt Marko will be going up for trial soon.”

Charles winces slightly, half-wishing that Erik wouldn’t talk about Uncle here, but that’s a childish thought. “I’ve heard,” he says, every bit as carefully neutral as Erik had been. “Several of his associates may be facing criminal charges as well.”

He hears a splash of water as Erik shrugs. “Not that it matters. Most likely they’ll all be let off the hook.”

“No faith in the justice system, my friend?”

“None at all.”

Charles can’t even disagree entirely, but as always, he opts for the diplomatic approach. “Well, do let’s at least give them a chance to get things right. Whichever way the trial goes, Uncle will no longer be a threat to us.”

“How are things with the lawyers?”

“Everything has been finalised. The estate, the fortune – they’re all under my name once more.”

Vicious satisfaction flares in Erik’s mind, but the motions of his hands are gentle against Charles’ scalp. “Good.”

“You know, I’ve been thinking.”

“Oh?”

“You could put the estate to good use.”

Erik chuckles. His breath tickles the back of Charles’ neck, sending a pleasant shiver up his spine. “What would I need a mansion for?”

“Think about it,” Charles insists. He turns to face Erik fully. “We – you could make it a safe haven. For mutants. You told me before that you’ve rescued children before. The mansion could be a safe place for them, or for anyone injured or unable or otherwise unwilling to fight. You’ve been there, you know there’s more than enough room for everyone.”

Erik studies him with dark eyes. “And what will you be doing while all of that is going on?”

Trust Erik to cut to the heart of the matter. Charles looks down, watching the way rivulets of water run down Erik’s skin. “I haven’t quite decided yet.”

But he doesn’t want to go back to the mansion. Not yet, anyway.

Erik is still watching him, and Charles takes some comfort from the familiar, metronomic tick of Erik’s mind as he works through a problem. “I think it’s a good idea,” he says finally. “I’ll talk to Emma and Azazel about getting something set up.”

“You’re not doing it yourself?”

“No.” The tiniest hint of a smile is playing around the edges of Erik’s mouth. His mind is a dizzying, intoxicating mix of fondness and determination. “I have other business I need to take care of. Shaw had a rather extensive overseas network. Now that things are settling down here, I’d like to continue dismantling his empire.”

Overseas. Somewhere Charles will be unknown, just another anonymous face in the crowd. No reporters dodging his steps, no one watching him with the sort of greedy and scorn that makes him feel as if he’s being flayed apart.

“Is that,” Charles’ tongue darts out to wet his lips, “an invitation?”

Erik’s smile broadens. “Come with me, Charles.”

The thought of refusing never crosses Charles’ mind. He leans in for a kiss, which Erik swiftly deepens, and for the first time, Charles allows himself to dream of the future.

#cherik #xmfc #my writing

[batmomhoe]

Life’s a Party (Batfam)

Requested by an anon

Summary: It’s date night for Bruce and Batmom, but when they come home chaos is unfolding within the mansion.

Warning(s): Shenanigans!

Life’s a Party BONUS PART

The marina was calm and quite desolate tonight, which made for the perfect location for a date. No one was going to bother you and it just so happened to be one of the main hotspots of activity lately, though the lack of people begged to differ. Nonetheless, it meant that Bruce was able to keep a watchful eye on the area while also showing you off as his arm candy to the stars and moon that shined down on you.

Neither of you barely said anything, enjoying the comfortable silence that fell over you both as you walked. The chill of the air coming off the water only gave you an excuse to walk closer to your beau. He always managed to make dates perfect somehow, even if they were interrupted by maniacs or calls from the principals office - though thankfully tonight he didn’t have to answer to either. It was just you and him, with each other’s undivided attention.

But alas, all good things must end and after hours of aimlessly walking around and talking about anything and everything, you decided to head home. As the car pulled up the long driveway you both could tell something was going on within the house from nearly a mile away. All the lights seemed to be on and music could be heard bumping through the walls like a heartbeat.

“I guess this is what we get for letting Alfred have the night off,” Bruce commented sarcastically, earning a snicker from you.

“I think it’s about time we show them how to really party. Don’t you, dear?” You suggested with a devious look on your face, one which Bruce returned just as deviously.

Hand in hand, you both walked into the house through the garage door, the music thumping into your core. As you progressed towards the epicenter of music and strobe lights, the house became steadily messier and showed signs of empty alcohol bottles and confetti just simply everywhere. The first child you found was Duke, completely passed out sideways in a rocker.

“Is he dead?” You questioned, half serious and Bruce shook his head after taking a pulse and let the sense of relieve wash over you both momentarily.

With a sigh from both of you, you continued your pursuit and not before long, you had slipped into the mass of people gathered in the main ballroom. The sight before you made you both stop and just stare.

Dick was showing off his acrobat moves, currently swinging from the chandelier as Barbara cheered him on from the staircase. Jason was screaming demands at the DJ from the “dance floor.” Tim and Cass were dancing next to each other while Steph had to prop herself up with help from the drink table. And Damian… Damian was no where to be seen which worried you more than seeing him involved in this mess.

The twitch in your eye made you want to go ape shit mother-hen on all of them, dragging each of their most likely intoxicated bodies to their beds. But, no, you had a much better idea. Bruce was thinking the exact same thing and wrapped a hand around your waist before pulling you close to him. A devilish smirk crossed your faces and you emerged yourselves into the crowd, locked together so you wouldn’t lose the other.

In your travels you both acquired a drink and held them tightly in hand as you started dancing with each other. Purposely sloppy, you made sure the two of you were making a scene, grinding, and yelling, and kissing until the people around you started to notice. Just as you had hoped, they began moving away from you, no one wanting to dance next to the old grinding couple, a few of them even realizing who you were.

After about a half hour, the room cleared out enough that a few of the kids spotted you, freezing in place. Bruce notice and motioned in their direction, making you turn your head to spot Tim, Cass, and Steph. The shock on their faces made you laugh and even Steph, who was clearly the most inebriated, widened her eyes and furrowed her eyebrows as if you were figments of her imagination.

“Hey guys! Nice party!” You yelled over the music to them as if you were just another couple of random partygoers.

The lack of anger on yours and Bruce’s faces terrified them all to the core before your face immediately dropped into your trademark serious ‘you’re in deep shit’ look. “It’s time to end it.”

Steph nodded slowly, seeming to take a different meaning to your words as she slurred a goodnight and shuffled along the walls up to her bed. With a shrug you watched her, at least one of them was making this easy though the other two just stood and stared.

“Now,” Bruce chimed in with his own stern look and Tim and Cass bolted, no doubt to find the others and tell of their situation.

Arms folded over your chests, you and Bruce stood side by side in the middle of the ballroom, watching as the people filed out and the music stopped. Jason let a string of expletives out as he started cleaning up bottles before even acknowledging your presence. Tim and Cass kept ushering people out, stumbling slightly in the process.

Dick still hung upside down from the chandelier and he waved with a smile when he saw you, though his words were slow and slightly slurred, “Heyy Mom! Heyy Bruce! You’re home early!”

With a sigh and a hand on your forehead, you offered a small wave with your other hand and rather unenthusiastically replied, “It’s three AM, Dick. Now get down from there.”

When all of the kids stood in front of you, excluding the ones already passed out or the one that was MIA, you looked them over with a disappointed frown before Bruce spoke up, “Tomorrow you’re cleaning this place up. And then we’re going to have a looong talk.”

“But for now, get to bed.” You chimed in, most of the glares being sent towards Cass and Tim, especially considering they were underage.

The two nodded and headed off to pass out, Tim actually glad for once when his head hit the pillow. After they left the room your attention turned back to the three left in front of you. Babs’ cheeks were flushed, her body telling you she obviously participated in the evening’s events. It was clear the second you walked into the room that Dick was far gone and you had to admit, you had some respect for anyone who could do acrobatics while drunk.

But when you looked Jason over, your eyes squinted. “Jason? Are you sober?”

Dick wrapped an arm around Jason’s shoulder and piped up for him, “Jay was our party mom tonight!”

“Dick, honey, go to bed. You too Barbara.” You softly told them and they nodded, slowly and hesitantly heading off in that direction.

“Just wanted to make sure no one died. Cause y’know, I know how that feels and it’s not very pleasant,” Jason explained sarcastically, brushing off the silent allegations that he did it because he was worried and turned to continue picking up a bit.

With a sigh, Bruce put a hand on your shoulder, “I’m going to make sure Duke’s still alive, and make sure he gets to bed.” You nodded up at him and gave a small smile and swiveled to take in the whole image of the trashed ballroom.

#batmom #batmom imagine #batman #batman imagine #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #batfam #batfamily #batfam imagine

[goarticletec-blog]

Reggie Miller Sounds Off on Paying College Athletes

New Post has been published on https://www.articletec.com/reggie-miller-sounds-off-on-paying-college-athletes/

Reggie Miller Sounds Off on Paying College Athletes

Who Reggie Miller is to you depends, at least in part, on where in this fine country you hail from. If you’re a Los Angeleno, he’s the UCLA legend who finished second on the program’s all-time scoring charts behind Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. If you’re an Indianan, he’s the single greatest Pacer of all time, who scored more than 25,000 points and sunk upwards of 2,500 threes—good for 2nd in NBA history—as he dragged the franchise as far into the playoffs as they’ve ever ventured. And if you’re a New Yorker, he is simply the Knick Killer.

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Nowadays, though, Miller has carved out a fine career as a broadcaster. He regularly calls NBA games on TNT, and when March Madness revs up, you can find him calling college ball for Turner Sports. The NCAA Tournament tips off Thursday, and Miller will call four games on the day, starting with Oklahoma-Rhode Island around noon. Along the way, he’ll offer his particular brand of no-nonsense insight into the tactics and mental games at play in one of the greatest single-elimination tournaments in sports. Miller offered some of that to Esquire earlier this week, as he touched on who’s a contender and who’s a potential Cinderella, why the “one-and-done” model is “a joke,” and whether college programs need to start paying their players.

The second game you’re calling is Iona vs. Duke. Are the Blue Devils the real deal this year despite that setback against North Carolina?

Obviously you know the pedigree of Coach K, where he’s been at the helm now 33, 34 years at Duke and you know championships and Hall of Famers. He’s coached them all. This is a different type of bunch for him, because he’s been getting these blue chip players now, these one-and-dones. I think this is arguably some of his best coaching, because he’s always had the luxury of keeping guys for three or four years [before recently]. But now you get the McDonald’s All-Americans that are coming in for one year, it’s almost coaching and teaching 101, on-the-fly. He’s done a great job with Bagley, and that young group mixed in with a senior champion like Grayson Allen.

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What does it say that even Coach K is adopting that one-and-done model now?

Well you’ve got to roll with the punches, and roll with how the game has evolved. If you’re going to be competitive versus the likes of Kentucky, whom Coach Cal has gotten just as many as Coach K, you’ve got to be able to adapt. In any sport, there’s always evolution. Coach K understood this, just as when we think of the Duke teams, we think of that tough, grity, man-to-man, slap-the-floor defense. But what’s been their success this year? The zone. And he got that from Coach Boeheim. You’ve got to take the temperature of your team, and Coach K has. That’s why they’re one of those teams that could possibly go deep.

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Who are your other contenders?

My Final Four is Duke, Villanova—in my opinion, they probably have the easiest trek, coming out of that East region. I have Virginia coming out of the South, and out of the West—this may surprise you—I have a repeat in Gonzaga getting all the way to the West final. I have Gonzaga beating Xavier and I had Gonzaga beating Michigan. That’s another surprise—I have Michigan beating North Carolina.

Championship game I have the two Vs: Virginia and Villanova. And I know I’m going to be kicking myself. But for some reason finally I think Tony Bennet’s offense has crept up and they’re going to meet their defense. I know what they are going to do at the defensive end. But I do think they have enough offense this time around.

Do you have Cinderellas lurking in there?

Yes. Here’s how you word this now: I wouldn’t be surprised if South Dakota State beat Ohio State. I would not be surprised if Loyola Chicago beats Miami. I would not be surprised, and this is more of a dig at Charles, if Charleston beats Auburn.

How does the single-elimination format of the tournament affect your approach, and how is it different from an NBA playoff game?

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You can lose home court advantage and still win the series. The cream will always rise to the top in a seven-game series in the NBA. You don’t have that luxury In March Madness. You have to be—I wouldn’t say perfect for six games. To me, the key to winning in March for these college teams is being able to adapt on the fly. Over six games, your offense is not always going to be there. You’ve got to be able to change your style of play. My Final Four teams—Virginia, Villanova, Duke, Gonzaga—have all been able to change the way they play: zone, man, offense, winning on the defensive end, rebounding, low turnovers. You’re playing teams you’re not familiar with from conference play, and you don’t have a lot of time to prepare. So you’ve got to be able to adjust on the fly.

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When you’re playing a best-of-seven series, you may lose Game One, but you can easily go into someone else’s building and recapture that. In March Madness, Charleston could easily beat Auburn on a neutral floor—all these games are on neutral floors. On top of all that, I’ve done games where, with lower seeds, if it’s a close game, it’s like Braveheart. The crowd chants and they all start rooting for the underdogs to beat the upper seeds. So if Charleston is in a close game, if South Dakota is in a close game with Ohio State, in that venue it becomes like a home game to them and that motivates them.

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The three-pointer was introduced while you were in college.

My senior year.

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And it sort of became your calling card. How has it changed the college game and the NBA game since?

I think freedom of movement has changed both leagues. But because Steph Curry has been so spectacular you know over the last several years, I think that has changed all of basketball. all these young kids, they want to be Steph Curry. As great as LeBron and James Harden are—and Harden is a three-point shooter as well—Steph Curry is making it look so easy. These kids see the highlights, and they want to shoot 30-footers now, 35-footers. They think they can. I don’t know if that’s a good or bad, because I’ve seen a lot of bad threes, especially in high school and college basketball. It has also eliminated the big man. You’ve got to be able to play multiple positions, your fours and fives have to be stretch fours and fives who can knock down threes.

It goes back to our earlier thing—it’s about evolution. It used to be throw the ball down to Kareem [Abdul-Jabbar] and play inside out. That’s irrelevant now. More threes will beat more twos.

Has the game become overly reliant on the three?

Oh, absolutely. People want to see high scoring games, and they want to see freedom of movement. In the college game, I think it penalizes defense. Great defensive teams like Virginia and Villanova play very aggressive man-to-man—as Virginia calls it, that pack-line defense. At the tournament, when you don’t have ACC officials who understand what that is, you can get penalized because a lot of the officials aren’t familiar with that and they know they want freedom of movement.

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More than one school you’ll be calling games for, including Duke and Villanova, are caught up in the NCAA’s paid players investigation. How should it be handled when we learn a player or his family has received financial benefits before they go pro?

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Number one, let’s just say this: This has been going on a long time. This didn’t just happen. I’m of the belief—I’m not so much into paying players, but I feel every player should control their own likeness. If a player wants to do a local television commercial for a car dealership and get paid for it, they should have that right. I don’t think once you sign on the dotted line, particularly at a university, you have zero rights and they get all the licensing money. Because the regular student, they have the ability to do that. Why can’t a student athlete?

If you get into paying players or a stipend, it’s generally just the football and basketball players. And do you pay quarterbacks more than you pay offensive linemen, or wide receivers, or defensive ends? It’s too difficult to figure out. But every player should control their ability to market themselves and make money. That’s the American Dream.

So sort of the Olympics model.

Absolutely, they should model it on the Olympics. And to take it a step further, I really believe college basketball should model what Major League Baseball does. If you think you’re big and bad enough to come out of high school, then so be it. But if you signed a letter of intent, they have you for three years. Both will win.

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And let’s talk about this, too, Jack. We’re only talking about what? Five players, maybe ten, out of thousands. So we’ve got to be honest here. If they’re bad enough to come out of high school—a 17, 18-year-old—I mean, tennis players do it all the time, and I don’t hear the uproar about tennis players. If you’re able to turn pro at 18, and you want to take that next leap, then so be it. But if you think, “Ah, I’m on the fringe. I need work,” and you sign a letter of intent, they have to have you for two years then. One and done is a joke. They’re not going to school. It’s a joke.

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What do you make of the new idea that if a player declares for the draft and they don’t get drafted, they should be able to go back to the school they were at?

Agreed. Test the waters. Why not? It baffles my mind, like what did they get by declaring for the draft and not getting drafted? How are they any better in that three to four month process than they were? So why would they be able to go back? Absolutely they should be able to go back.

What are the games to watch over the next couple of weeks?

That Virginia-Arizona game—let me backtrack. Arizona-Kentucky, first of all, is going to be fantastic in the south. The winner of that is going to be great, whether that’s Virginia-Kentucky, Virginia-Arizona. To me, Virginia has a very difficult path to get to the Final Four. And personally, just because I’m an adopted Hoosier, I would love to see Butler and Purdue in that second round. That would be fun.

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