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buckyalpine · 4 months

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40's baby Bucky & baby Reader, Present Bucky x Reader, all the flufff, a lil angst but it just adds to the fluff, promise

Bucky sat under the tree with a very prominent pout on his chubby face, his arms crossed against his chest with his brows pulled together. He wasn't happy. Not one bit. Not after his favorite ball was kicked over a fence by the other neighborhood boys.

"Bucky, do you want to play with me?" You toddled over to your best friend hoping to lift his spirits after seeing him so grumpy only to be met with a huff.

"No! Go play with Stevie instead. Leave me alone!" He frowned, brushing you off and turning his back at you to sulk facing the tree instead.

"But-

"I don't want to play with you" Bucky grumbled. Your bottom lip wobbled, dropping your shoulders as you walked off and sat by yourself under some shade on your porch. You didn't have many friends being the youngest and only little girl on your street; Bucky and Steve being the only two who included you in their games.

"Bucky's mean" You picked up one of your dolls, setting her up beside you while you toyed with a wild flowers, doing your best to keep from sniffling after he shooed you away. You knew he was upset but you wanted to make him feel better!

Of course it didn't take long for Bucky to feel bad, peeking over to see your fallen face sitting all alone on the steps of your house, eyes wet with tears which you were desperately blinking back. He got a bad feeling in his little pudgy belly, knowing he wasn't very nice to you. He knew his ma wouldn't be very happy if she heard how he'd spoken to you, especially after you were just trying to brighten his mood. He got up from his place on the grass, nicking a few flowers from his garden before shuffling over to you only to be met with your now grumpy face, crossing your arms and turning away just like he did.

"I'm sorry y/n" Bucky came and plopped beside you, moving the doll away, while clutching onto a few pink tulips. You didn't respond, still mad at him for being mean to you when you'd done nothing wrong. "C'mon jellybean, pwease?"

His baby blues were shining bright as he gave you his best puppy eyes, hoping you'd forgive him. You felt a giddy at the name he called you, one he'd given you because he thought you were sweet like one. You turned to face him while he gave you a shy little smile, placing the flowers onto your lap.

"I brought you flowers" He stated proudly, happy at the giggle you let out, setting them aside before tugging at his hand to run off and play.

"Y'promise you'll come back?" your eyes were wet with tears again although you were now 20 years older and the chubby boy you grew up with had grown into a very handsome soldier. He stood before you in his clean and pressed uniform, his face shaven, hair neatly cropped.

"Of course doll" He whispered affectionately, letting his thumbs swipe across your cheeks, kissing away the tears that fell. "I'll always come back to you jellybean"

"You better" You sniffled, standing on your toes to chase more of his lips as he pressed them to yours, his hands wrapping around your waist, picking you up with ease.

"M'gonna come right back to you, safe n'sound" He held you for as long as he could, rocking you close to his chest while you fought back a sob, giving him a brave smile instead.

"I love you Jamie"

"I love you jellybean"

That was the last time you saw him.

"This is a bad idea"

"When have I ever had a bad idea" Tony scoffed, continuing to tinker with his quantum portal while Bruce looked over numbers.

"It's not stable enough Tony, if we send someone through this, they could get stuck in an alternate timeline or we could end up changing the future-

"Yea, yea, stop worrying, hand me that spanner"

Bruce sighed, handing over the tool while contemplating on the safest way to test the machine. It wasn't ready to handle anyone actually travelling through time but at the very least they could potentially open portals to the past.

"We gotta put in a location to see if this works-how about-" Tony contemplated on a location, his eyes growing wide with excitement when he spotted Steve's diary that he'd left behind in the lab, "Let's see if Captain has any interesting places from the 40's"

"Why wouldn't you just see if we could get to the compound garden" Bruce groaned while Tony flipped through the pages, typing in an address that had been scribbled in. It was from a list of places Steve wanted to visit again from when he was a child, the address of the person listed under friends. There was only one other person listed there other than Bucky.

"Alright, call the others, let's see if this baby works"

"You're going to get us all killed" Bruce shook his head while calling for everyone to come to the lab. By now everyone was used to Tony's antics; the only one who was genuinely giddy with excitement was surprisingly Bucky. One thing he'd always loved was science; even his stoic expression couldn't hide the twinkle in his eye every time he got to see another Stark experiment.

"Glad you all made it. Now, thanks to Cap, we're going to see if we can open a portal that travels back to the 1940's. I suggest you all stand back since I haven't actually tested this before"

"Why are you like this" Nat snorted while Tony waved her off, pushing a few more buttons before hitting start. Bucky watched from the safe sidelines of the lab as the machine began to vibrate, a low buzz growing louder until a portal roared to life that lead to the inside of someone's home. Bucky and Steve were both stunned from shock seeing a flash of a very familiar living room for no longer than a second before the whole thing closed with a bang and a large puff of smoke in its place.

"Well done Mr. Playboy billionaire dumbass" Sam wheezed while the team was left coughing, the room cloudy as the loud buzz began to dull. "What was the location you even put in-

Sam stopped talking midway when he heard another voice coughing followed by mumbling coming from the place where the portal closed. The smoke hadn't yet dissipated but the shadow of a person was slowly becoming visible. Everyone froze when they realized there was someone on the platform, wondering who could've been sucked through.

"Bruce, turn on the fan-" Bruce hit the lab fan which pulled helped with the smoke revealing a young woman in a flower printed dress. An apron was still tied around her waist, flour streaked across her cheeks, a rolling pin still in her hand. "What the-

"JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES"

Bucky thought he was going to collapse as soon as he saw who was on the platform, his heart fluttering madly in his chest. He couldn't control the blush that crept up on his cheeks, butterflies bursting in his tummy, just as they did all those years ago. The young woman stormed up to the soldier, face full of fury as her palm smacked his cheek (Not hard enough to actually hurt him of course).

"HOW DARE YOU"

Everyone else in the lab silently congregated to one side watching curiously though Steve was still utterly frozen seeing-

"Y-y/n? Doll?"

"Don't you doll me" you whacked his arm with your rolling pin, huffing when it clanged back after hitting metal. That didn't seem to faze you as you switched and hit the other arm instead, making Bucky yelp. "You lied!"

You dropped your makeshift weapon to the floor, moving your hands to your hips instead, looking up and down at the man you loved with your entire heart, the man who you mourned for years after you were told he was dead. He looked much different from when you'd last seen him, the most obvious difference being an entirely new arm. His cheeks were scruffy and it was clear some form of time travel had taken place but none of that mattered. None of that mattered when the love of your life was standing right there, alive and well.

"Oh baby, no-

"Absolutely not Barnes" you huffed at the pet name he gave you, crossing your arms over your chest and Bucky thought he'd melt into an absolute puddle at the sight. He was thrown back to when you were both no more than 4 years old, with a cute little frown on your face whenever you'd get upset. "You left! I thought you-I thought you died!"

The sound of your voice cracking broke Bucky's heart, his hands itching to wrap you up and pull you close to his chest the way you loved. He could see your eyes twinkle with tears threatening to spill out while you rapidly tried to blink them away. You chewed on your bottom lip to keep from wobbling and it only made Bucky yearn to hold you and never let go.

"Sweetheart please, I didn't mean to leave you doll, I promise" He stepped closer to you, hesitantly reaching out to take your hand in his, not feeling the slightest bit conscious about his metal arm. The coolness of his hand calmed your racing heart while you sniffled, still refusing to meet his eyes as you stared down at your feet instead.

The day you'd been told he'd never come back had been the worst day of your life. You wept for months on end, losing the man you were waiting to marry. The only person you'd been in love with since you were 4 years old.

Seeing you standing there before him stirred feelings in Bucky h never thought he'd feel again. Having a home. A beautiful wife. Little chubby babies. All with his dream girl he'd loved all his life. There wasn't a day that had gone by where he didn't think about her. He didn't think he'd ever get the chance again but here you were, dusted in flour like you always were whenever you were in the kitchen, in a pretty dress he loved so much, fighting your cries after desperately missing him. He softly cupped your cheeks, swiping away at your tears, his forehead coming down to softly rest against yours. He smiled through watery eyes at your stubborn nature, still keeping your arms crossed while his nose bumped with yours.

"Jellybean" Bucky whispered, your heart melting at the name, swallowing the lump in your throat, "Please? I-I'll- I'll bring you flowers" He said with a shaky voice, nearly toppling over when you flung yourself into his arms. He caught you, squeezing you right back and lifting you off the floor to cradle you nice and tight before pulling back to smash his lips against yours. The collective sniffles and whistles from the team were drowned out by your soft giggles and warm lips.

"I missed you so much" you buried your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him, the one that comforted yo the most.

"You have no idea how much I missed you jellybean, never letting you go again"

"Terminator, you wanna introduce us?" Tony was the first to speak up, not so subtly wiping away at his eyes while Bucky continued to look at you with heard eyes, introducing you to everyone. You could only wrap your head around so much at a time but nothing truly mattered now that you were back with your soldier.

And of course your other best friend.

"Steve" You giggled as Steve lifted you up with ease into a tight hug, grinning at his two friends finally getting the life they deserved together.

Seriously imagine how sickeningly cute these two would be. Bucky is so excited to teach you all about the future. He gets to show you how to use all the new technology around the compound. He's so naughty about it too, teasingly telling you he'd be happy to help you in the shower if there's any questions you has about water temperature.

He doesn't waste any time with asking to marry you. Its everything you've ever dreamed of and more considering Tony took the bill and ran. Bucky can't put into words how happy he is finally getting the life he thought was ripped from his hands.

On your wedding night, Bucky spends hours loving on you like there's no tomorrow which is why a few months later, your belly is swollen with your first baby. Bucky is thankful for the future because as excited as he is to start a family, he's scared shitless something could happen to his jellybean.

"Bucky, I'm fine-

"Absolutely not, why are you up Jellybean, go sit down, I'll bring breakfast to you"

"I can still walk y'know-

"Nope. You stay right there, don't move mama, just rest"

When you do have to move around, he's there holding your baby bump, feeling giddy over becoming a dad. He can't wait to meet his little baby that he's made with his dream girl.

After his son is born, he waits for your body to heal but no ones surprised to see you with a new bump not too long after.

Two baby boys are no match for all the avengers but they all happily share their god father and god mother duties.

Your third is a little girl and she's going to be spoiled by everyone.

Somewhere along the way, you get a white fluffy cat.

Bucky's life has never been better.

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flamingpudding · 6 months

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Message to the past

Was one nice family dinner in the Wayne Family really possible? Jason was starting to think it wasn't. The evening started out so well, for once he did not have any sort of beef with Bruce for the moment. He got to spend time with Alfred preparing the dinner. Neither Demon Brat nor Pretender were at each other's throats because of a case yet and there was no argument about to happen with Dickie either and he didn't feel like avoiding Bruce. Did he mention he didn't feel like leaving the Manor at the first sight of his old man?

Everything felt like it was gearing up to be a nice and well deserved family dinner with all his siblings being in one space for once.

That was until a Lazarus Green portal opened and a fucking silver green tin can smack dab hit him square in the face. Causing him to fall backwards in his chair and hitting his head painfully on the floor. Why didn't they have carpet in the dinner room again? Oh right, someone -one of his siblings- got mud all over it after patrol and Alfred decided the dinner room didn't need it anymore.

Once the first shock of what had just happened passed. They got to inspect the tin can and found a letter inside it.

Dear future Dad,

Gramps Clockwork spoilered that there is a mess up in the timeline because of the speedsters and I can fix it like this, which is why I am writing this. Please pick me up in the attached location marked on the map. My current self is in need of saving and I honestly would like to spare myself at least a little of the trauma that's about to happen.

Also please bring some explosives. You always regretted not blowing up a corupted govermental facility, so here is your chance of doing so! Be proud, though. I blew up a bunch of them in the future, with supervision, of course, from my uncles and aunts, so great grandpa wouldn't worry.

Please pick me up? Thanks if you do!

Your future adopted son.

PS: please ignore any complains my current self might have. I was in server need of a real parental figure and as you like to say as stubborn as grandpa.

PSS: also please stop antagonizing grandpa about my adoption. It's bad enough that you had to fight him over it in the first place.

PSSS: please bring great grandpa's cookies, I beg you please! I swear I will do all my schoolwork and be a straight A student if you do!

The girls of the family started to pout while the boys exchanged glances. Jason narrowed his eyes at his brothers. There was a silent argument happening and Bruce was watching them all also.

But if there was one thing Jason was sure about. It was that the tin can smacked him in the face. Which meant the letter was his and the time shenanigans arson kid with sass was going to be his kid. His brothers AND Bruce can fight him over that.

Like the kid has said in his letter.

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sophiethewitch1 · 22 days

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What We Want - Chpt. 6 - Round Two. Fight!

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

Damn. Your indulgent TV stalking of the Wayne’s really doesn’t hit the same once you technically knew them. And you were hiding inside one of their bedrooms, inside one of their clothes, using their TV subscription. It just didn’t feel right. Morally, of course, but that wasn’t what you were talking about. No, you were just pissy your favourite pastime was basically ruined. You shovel another spoonful of cookie dough ice cream into your mouth, glaring through tired eyes at the screen.

There’s an up-close shot of Dick Grayson’s abs. The presenter ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ over his physical form, and you have to agree. You wish you had abs like that. Unfortunately, you did respond to most unwanted experiences with stress eating. As always with these celebrity figures, you can’t really tell if you want to be Dick or be with Dick. Your butt is nowhere near the level his is at.

While you hadn’t really set out today looking for shirtless pictures of the Waynes, it wasn’t like you were going to say no to them. So, when the gossip channel had switched from the reactions of the Waynes to last night’s fiasco to… this… you’d just kept watching.

You wonder if you should stop doing this. It’s definitely kind of creepy, and now you’d technically once been his… step-sister. What a mind fuck. You’ve been crushing on these dudes for a while, and now they were your ex-step siblings. This was like the start of a bad porno, but you knew you were not that lucky. And it wasn’t like you were going to start thinking of him as a brother any time soon. You hadn’t even met the guy. No, he was still firmly in the ‘celebrity crush’ section of your mind. Pretty and untouchable. The way things are supposed to be.

Which was also bad because you would probably have to meet and interact with him at some point. Probably in the near future. God knows you’d absolutely humiliated yourself in front of the fucking Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne,. Twice, in fact. You didn’t even want to think about the display you’d shown for Bruce Wayne or Damian Wayne.

You didn’t really know what to do with your slightly obsessive crushes. And you could see it definitely being a problem in the near future.

…You decide that what you do in your private time is absolutely nobody but your business, and keep watching. It’s a mix of bitter spite and genuine mental breakdown levels of desperation that leads you to that decision. You feel like you’re a child with their toy being taken away, and it’s making you mad. And sad too. Even if you shouldn’t do this anymore, you still want to keep the habit. You’d mentioned before your creature comforts were one of the few things that kept you going. And while you were mostly very good at not being the jealous, heinous creature you really are, you knew you wouldn’t be giving this up.

They’d have to tear your gossip channels from your cold dead palms. You weren’t giving them up, not without a fight at least. Unfortunately for you, the universe seemed determined to wrestle away literally everything you loved.

Guilt’s for tomorrow. Today is for ice cream and purposefully ignoring everything. Speaking of which, you can not remember the last time you had a good Ben & Jerry’s. They were so expensive these days, as all groceries were. You simply couldn’t afford it. The Waynes, of course, had multiple tubs in multiple different options. Alfred had seemed delighted that you’d taken the ice cream, for which reasons you could not perceive.

Oh, yeah! His name was Alfred. Very butler-y. You’d remember it this time, he was a very nice man. And he called you ‘young miss’ which earned him points. He also didn’t seem to hate you on sight or treat you like a two-headed freak, like some of the other people in this household. Not naming names. Yeah, fuck that noise, Damian Wayne obviously has issues and it’s much less attractive in real life.

The woman drones on, and your eyes flick to your phone. Yup, she’s still yapping. It’s not like you don’t appreciate Dick’s abs or anything, it’s just that you think she might’ve been talking about this one specific photo for over half an hour now. Lady should get a hobby. Wait, wait, this is her job. Maybe you should start a podcast where you rant about the Wayne’s exercise regimes. It seems to be quite a lucrative field.

You shriek when the door slams open, nearly tumbling backwards off the bed. Hands manage to grip the bedcovers before you tip over, not making a complete fool of yourself. As it goes, you lose your spoon to the carpet. Bits of cookie dough spread over the floor in a divine sacrifice. And you lose your sanity to the man standing in the doorway. To be fair, he looks just as confused as you feel.

You blink at the physically perfect form of Dick Grayson and then turn your head to the TV to look at the other physically perfect form of Dick Grayson.

…You really wish you had a good explanation for this.

He mutters out your name, lips parted. Dick Grayson seems absolutely shocked to find you here. His eyes flick around the room and eventually land on the TV. Said baby blues widen to the size of saucers when the reporter makes a really, really unnecessary comment.

“And in news that broke the hearts of both ladies and gentlemen everywhere in Bludhaven, Dick Grayson has announced he will be returning to Gotham to assist his family in this difficult time. My cousin in the Blud is probably crying right now. There’s no ass out there quite like his, and there’s no replacement for Bludhaven’s favourite young rich bachelor,” she winks at the camera, and then the shot of his toned stomach phases forward to take up the entire screen.

Well, there’s a lot to say about that. First of all, fuck. Second of all, shit. Third of all, she really couldn’t have said that part about Dick coming back to Gotham sooner? Perchance, before you’d found yourself in this situation?

You said you weren’t that lucky, you meant it.

“But still, ain’t that lucky for us Gothamites? I myself have spent a lot of time on Dick’s Tiktok and Instagram, and his acrobatic videos have been used in a lot of my personal-”

You snatch the remote from the sheets and pause it right there. The silence is tense. You wait for him to say something, but he just stares at you. Completely stunned, mouth-catching flies. You want to pull the covers up and hide under them, but you don’t think that’d make him leave.

“I couldn’t find my room,” you finally manage to say. It’s the worst excuse you’ve ever heard, sounds like a complete lie. And yet, unfortunately, it is the truth.

Dick’s eyes drift to the TV, which you still haven’t unpaused. You can’t tell if it would be worth it, just to get rid of his golden brown abs staring at you judgementally, even if you’d have to deal with the extra embarrassment of the dialogue over them. Maybe if you muted the TV? It wouldn’t make up for the insult of his paparazzi photos on a widescreen.

It takes you even longer to come up with an excuse for… that.

“I was checking the news about last night,” you continue, the panic in you rising like a tea kettle left on the stove for too long. You might start shrieking like one too.

You don’t think he believes you. He looks down at the Beatles shirt you’re wearing. You know what he’s going to say before he does, but you still dread it.

“You’re wearing my clothes,” he mutters, his voice awed.

You want to say, ‘Nooo! No, no, no! Don’t do this to me, damn it! Not anymore! No more, please! It’s enough, enough suffering! This is genuinely ridiculous, damn you!’ but instead you reply with a shaky, “…Didn’t have any of mine.”

Also, you’ve been huffing Eau de Dick Grayson? That’s definitely in character for you. You want to beat your own head in with a stick.

“And I couldn’t find my room, and uh, thought this one wasn’t being used,” you continue, daring a glance back at him. He still looks completely stumped.

“It wasn’t,” he answers, but it sounds like he’s a thousand miles away.

You know, Dick Grayson was supposed to be a lot more charming than this. You’re almost proud you managed to stun the man into near speechlessness. Almost, almost. Almost not going to kill yourself once he leaves.

If he leaves. He doesn’t look like he’s getting up. You eye the gap between you and the door. Your animal brain is telling you to just run for it. But Dick has Olympic level athletics, and you don’t doubt he could catch you if you ran. Would he try though? That’s the deciding factor here.

He doesn’t seem like he’s actually going to fucking do anything though. He just keeps staring, like if he looks for long enough, it’ll all start to make sense. Which, you wish.

“Do you know where my room is? I couldn’t… remember…”

He nods, instead staring at his own abs on the TV.

“Can you take me to my room?”

He nods again. Still doesn’t look back at you.

“…Mr. Grayson?” you say, and almost immediately regret it. ‘You’ wouldn’t have used his last name, even though you might’ve. ‘You’ had been a casual person, as far as you could tell. That was the kindest way you could say it, at least.

His head snaps to you. He somehow looks more confused. You wonder if you should pinch him or something, god knows you’ve done your fair share of pinching yourself recently.

“Yes, right, sorry. Let’s… go,” he gives you a cheery smile, shaking his head, but it seems quite strained. You’re probably matching. This is the most humiliating moment of your life, and of course, it’s with the most beautiful man on earth right beside you.

A break. You want a break.

The two of you quietly shuffle out of the room, and when he guides you forward, you follow him obediently. Your head naturally bows, shame making it hard to look at him. You stare at the wooden floors as you walk. Watching it shine in the morning light that filters through the windows.

Eventually, he comes to a stop in front of a door that has obviously been avoided. Though it’s as clean as every other inch of this house, there are no marks in the rug from the door opening and closing. And even then, it seems… well, it sounds silly, but the door seems sad to you. Too many things seem sad to you these days.

Your thoughts must show on your face because Dick clears his throat and gives you a worried look. Is it rude to say you’re sick of those sorts of looks? That they just make you feel sick and burdened these days? It’s not like you could bring your family back from the dead, or convince your cheating boyfriend to not be a piece of shit. It was out of your hands.

“…Are you alright?” he asks you, blue eyes sincere. You tilt your head to the side.

“No?” you say, but it sounds more like a question. No, you are not alright. Yes, you will be okay. It’s the only option. It’s one of your rules. You have to be okay. You just have to.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You almost laugh.

“No,” this time your voice is firm, confident. Dick seems like he’s going to push it, but something in your eyes makes him stop. You give him a forced smile and say goodbye, closing the door gently in his face. Once you do, you crouch down and once again, press your face to your knees. Then you press your hands to your mouth and let out a scream that had been bubbling up for a while. After that, you feel you can live with the humiliation that is your existence without jumping out the three-story-height window.

You stand up, turning to the room. The first thing you notice about it is that there’s dust in here. Same as Dick’s old room. Now that you think about it, Alfred doesn’t seem the type who’d randomly leave certain rooms uncleaned, so it must be something he does out of respect for the tenants of Wayne Manor. Or maybe the old you requested it? God knows.

Sitting down on the old bed, your eyes rove around the room. It’s well decorated, as the rest of the manor is, but you can’t see anything that would make it your room. There’s none of the novels you’d collected from the used books store, no dorky little items you impulse bought, no pictures of your family. The apartment hadn’t had those either.

‘You’- she- seemed like a ghost to you. While you’d often felt like you’d barely been alive, simply going through the motions, this girl seemed like she hadn’t even been conscious half the time she was doing it. It made your stomach swim, your face pulls taught.

While you’d had few things holding you afloat, it’d been enough to keep you alive. Molly, your co-workers, the need to work so as to not starve to death. She hadn’t had anything like that. No liferaft. You’d been sputtering and gasping your way through life, and she’d been drowning. Maybe already dead, at the bottom of the sea, hair tangling with the seaweed.

This room feels like a coffin, and this manor like a cemetery. It makes you physically sick.

Showing off your fickle-mindedness, you realise that despite this being the Wayne manor filled with all your idols, you actually don’t want to fucking be here. You need space to clear your head, and the creaking floorboards that echo down the creepy hallways just don’t offer that. The atmosphere at your too-modern, too-minimalist apartment is leagues better than the atmosphere at this gorgeous old house which you’d usually love spending hours getting lost in.

Usually. Unfortunately, this place was more suffocating than the workplace when you knew you were about to get fired again. And you weren’t getting paid to stay here, so why the fuck would you?

Once you realise you’ve decided to run, you’re quick to pack up your shit. There’s not much in the room you need. A pair of sneakers, because you would rather die than put those heels on again. And you’ll grab some shirts because they’re comfy and remind you of home. Hopefully, it’ll make everything… grate… a little less. All of this is thrown in an old ratty backpack, which is then tossed over your shoulder. Shoes slipped on, and tapped against the floor so they’re on comfortably. And then you’re ready. Ready as you’ll ever be. With one hand on your phone, you take a peek outside the door. Coast is clear.

You press call for ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’. Jeanine picks up on the third ring.

“Hello, Jeanine Ryans here,” she says, her voice all business.

“Jeanine, I need an evac, stat,” you whisper to her, creeping down the hallway of the manor. The floor is unbelievably creeky, so it’s pretty fucking difficult to be stealthy about it.

“…What?”

“Get me out of this fucking manor, please,” you beg, now going down the stairs. Almost out, almost out.

“Right, on it. I’ll have a car outside in ten minutes if that’s alright?” Jeanine replies, immediately on the case. It almost makes you cry. You know she’s being paid for this, and very desperate for the job for some reason, but it’s still a hail mary that you are so grateful for.

“Thank you, thank you so much,” you say, turning a corner and-

Oh, fuck. Damian Wayne glares down at you, green eyes cataloguing every single guilty piece of you in existence. He sees your hand tighten around your backpack, hears Jeanine telling you not to worry through your phone, and probably notices the way your eyes desperately flicker behind him to the door. To your goal, to the exit to this labyrinth.

You can practically hear the wind blowing, see the tumbleweed drift by.

And then, he moves past you, twisting his body so no part of it touches you. There’s a moment where your brain freezes, something spicy smelling (cinnamon, maybe?) flowing past you, and by the time you turn around, he’s gone. Your deer-in-headlights tensed-shoulders look falls, leaving you confused in the foyer. He didn’t even say a word to you. You felt like you just got passed over by a boss from a Dark Souls game.

…Well, you’ll take the wins where you can find them! Quickly, you hurry out the front door, skittering down the steps like some sort of rat. It’s a long walk to the gates, and you don’t really know how to open them to let the car in, so you decide to take your time and enjoy the walk. The early morning dew apon the clean-cut blades of grass glint and sparkle, the gravel on the road crunches under your technically-not-stolen sneakers, and even if it’s a miserable life, it’s a pretty day. From the hill the manor lives upon, you can see Gotham’s tall skyline, cloaked in its characteristic fog.

Eventually, you find yourself in front of the gate, where you can see Jeanine waiting with a black car on the otherside. There’s a big green button next to the side gate, which you press, and it clicks open. There’s a moment where your neck tingles, and you glance up at the camera pointed down at you. The red flickering light beside it holds your attention. You can see your bedraggled reflection in its lense.

Shaking your head, you move on, greeting Jeanine. She gives you a quick bow of the head and opens the door for you. You hike the bag over your shoulder, give the Wayne manor one final, lingering look and then you step into the car. Jeanine starts speaking to you about some future appointments you have, and you’re too tired to understand a word of what she says. She realises you’re not processing anything she says, and hands you a pair of headphones with a wire adapter.

You could kiss her right then and there. You don’t because that’d be weird, but you definitely think about it. Headphones on, you watch the rolling hills and luxurious manors turn into highways and honking traffic, to finally the upside part of town which was now apparently where you lived.

Eventually you find yourself being delivered in front of your swanky new apartment. With a passing goodbye, Jeanine tells you that she’ll be busy for the rest fo the day so if you need anything to call the number on the card she hands you. You tuck it in your pocket, certain you’ll lose it like every other business card you’ve ever been handed.

The elevator ride up to your room is contemplative. The music is boring, your reflection is bedraggled and tired, and the gentle feeling of gravity under your feet tugs at you. You rock slightly when you finally reach your floor. The doors open, but you don’t make any move to leave. They shut again, and you’re left staring daggers at your mirrored self.

You’d woken up, still here. It wasn’t a dream. It was reality. And more than that, it seemed more and more like you’d be staying in this reality. You didn’t think you could go home. Sure you were rich but… but your home. Your few things you’d managed to save. Your meagre group of friends and your hard-sought job. It made you nauseous. Where had you lost it all? Why were you here now? Why did you keep having to lose everything?

You manage to snap yourself out of it before someone else calls the elevator. Striding out of the space, you look to the right where you remember your apartment coming from. It’s not hard to find the unit, as there are only three on the entire floor. Rich people.

The door closes with a satisfying thud behind you, and you nearly melt with exhaustion.

This apartment is the ninth circle of hell for you. Scrambling around on your knees, you’re desperate to find the damn phone that won’t stop ringing. You can’t understand where the sound is coming from.

Under your bed? You shine your other’s phone’s light under it. Nope. Behind the dresser? Nada. You search inside the drawers and then peek inside the fancy lamp. Absolutely nothing. You’re ready to tear your hair out when you spot something… odd.

There’s… You think there’s something stuck in your floorboards. You dig at the space with your fingernails and the piece of wood pops open. Inside is… a cardboard box. An awfully familiar cardboard box, actually. The sight of your Mum’s old keepsake box makes you cry out with joy, lifting it from its little enclave. You’d lost a lot in the past few days but at least the old you knew how to keep your family’s stuff safe.

This apartment looks brand new. And apparently the past you dug into it to hide her stuff. You can’t really judge, you have a hidey-hole back at your apartment. It was a brick that had already been loose in the wall, so it didn’t feel quite as criminal as this.

The ringing is coming from inside the box. When you pull the lid up, you find a keepsake box a little different from yours. While yours only ever had your family’s old passports and photo albums, this one had a sleek phone sitting on top of all the mementos. It’s an exact copy of the phone on your bed- or well, it would be, if you hadn’t dropped it.

Two phones? This bitch was greedy. And so are you, eagerly sweeping the expensive item into your gremlin hands. Your thieving high is instantly quashed when you see who’s calling.

Of all fucking… George.

You roll your eyes before hanging up, tossing the phone to the side as you start rifling through the old keepsake box. You flip through family photo albums and lovingly cradle old stuffies. The phone buzzes. You ignore it. You find one of your mother’s old necklaces, and because you’re desperate for anything that can ground you, slip it over your head. The cool heart locket rests just under your collarbone, and you clutch it with one hand as you keep exploring. The phone keeps buzzing. It’s only almost half an hour later when you realise something about this is strange.

Why is George… not blocked? You glance down at the vibrating object like it’s radioactive, a despairing frown pulling at your face. Cautiously, you pick it up, making sure not to open the notifications lest it tell George you read any of his messages.

He’s… apologising for not being there for your birthday. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. And it’s not even a proper apology, it’s one of those ‘I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings’ bullcrap. He keeps spamming you, and eventually, you realise that he’s not going to just stop.

You decide to nip this in the bud quickly because even remembering his cheating face makes you feel like throwing up.

‘You’: Why are you contacting me?

‘George <3’: Seriously? Look, I’m sorry I wasn’t there yesterday. I was busy, you know that.

Stupidly, you reply:

‘You’: ‘No, seriously, why are you contacting me? I’m done with you.’

You wonder how you ever loved this jackass. Even if he was obviously more of a jackass here, than where you’d come from. He was just better at pretending there. You keep scrolling, ignoring the new texts that pop up. Your stomach sours at the number of texts he himself had ignored, of the amount of ‘sorry baby, can’t come tonight’, the begging, the pleading.

No, he wasn’t worse at pretending. He just didn’t care.

You wonder if this could have been you, further along down the line. Abuse happens slowly, right? Like a frog in a pot. You’d have forgiven and forgotten, written away his worse behaviours till you couldn’t anymore. Till you couldn’t leave, till you were trapped.

You think George Lancaster would’ve tried to. He would’ve isolated you from everyone you had left if he hadn’t screwed up and got caught.

You realise now there were a lot of red flags in your relationship with George. Molly always hated him and he hated her. He’d constantly complain about how much time you spent with her, spamming you with texts when you went out.

You were only… only two days since you’d actually broken up with him. Which was sort of crazy to think about. You feel like you’ve lived eons since then. Like that one traumatic incident aged you thirty years. Anyway, you still hadn’t processed the whole George thing. You’d been sort of busy fighting for your life.

‘George’: I’m here, can you at least open the door so we can talk face to face?

Freeze. A knock sounds, and your head snaps up to the front door. You don’t move. You just wish it away. The knocking only gets louder and louder.

You feel like a dumb girl in a horror movie as you walk towards the door, unlocking it and creaking the knob open. George Lancaster stands on the other side, and before you can slam it in his face, he grabs you by the arm and yanks you out of the door. And then he’s pulling you to the elevator, even as you try and get your bearings, get yourself away from him.

“You can’t just ignore me like this,” George says, pissed off to high hell, “We’re going to miss the reservation I booked specifically for you. I told you it was happening today and-”

There’s white noise between your ears, you can’t hear what he’s saying. Told you? It wasn’t in any of the texts. He’s still talking even as the elevator dings, even as he shoves you in a white sports car that’s half parked on the curb. Even as he drives his way through Gotham’s streets, he won’t fucking shut up.

Why are you letting this happen to you? Why aren't you fighting back, wrenching yourself from his grasp? He takes you into a restaurant, one so upscale that normally you wouldn’t be able to get in for months, and your head snaps from staring socialites to watching politicians to gawking celebrities. You have the eyes of the world on you right now, and they’re all watching George yell at you.

And you can’t find your voice.

It's like a scab you can't stop picking at. Like you think this is what you deserve or something. And it's not. You know it's not. And yet you follow obediently, chastised and embarrassed, as he pulls you through the restaurant. When he picks a table in the centre of the room, you don’t protest. When he chooses your meal for you, even though it’s not to your taste, you don’t protest.

Looking at George, scrolling lazily on his phone, your hands clench against the table. They’re sweating, shaking, nails digging into your palms.

You… you didn’t have to break up with him again, did you? You realised it earlier, but you didn’t- it didn’t really sink in. Your first breakup with George Lancaster was a miserable traumatic experience, and it had been in the solitary streets of Gotham’s Narrows. This one, this one would be seen by literally everyone.

Nauseous. You feel so damn nauseous, your mouth dry as you swallow down bile. This was ridiculous. You couldn’t stand seeing his face. Was he texting her right now? God, did she even know? You’d just stormed out that night, running from what you’d seen.

George had chased after you. Had he left her there? Your stomach churned at the idea. You had to hate her on principle but, well, you also had to sympathise with her. Contradictions, that was the average you. You didn’t want to help this random girl. Didn’t want to have to ever think of her again.

…Staring at George, a definitively awful person, you can’t do it. Can’t just leave her to it.

“I’m breaking up with you,” you say.

“What?” George replies, not even looking up from his phone.

“I’m breaking up with you!” you shout. It’s not even intentional, just a result of being pushed too far, of breaking too easily.

The restaurant goes quiet. Guess you’re up for another scandal then. Whatever, it wasn’t like you would’ve lasted much longer anyway. This was all too complicated for your recently traumatised mind to handle. And it was just too damn stupid to bother with anyway. All of this was fucking stupid.

You included.

Just pull the bandaid off, right? You could already see how this version of you had so many scandals to her name. You probably should start giving a shit. Or at least trying to. You don’t think you want to, though.

George puts his phone down face down on the tablecloth, giving you a calm look. That slightly pitying stare activates something in your brain you didn’t really know was there. It’s a type of rage you haven’t known since you were a kindergartner and one of the other girls said you couldn’t play princesses. Since your first service job where your manager felt you up. Just pure, petty, anger. The type of anger ready to burn the world down as long as it burns whoever pissed you off as well. He opens his mouth, probably to say something condescending, and your hand whips out and snatches his phone.

“Hey!” George says instead, his eyes widening.

You turn the phone back on. Hm, passcode. You flip it around and use facial recognition to open it. Despite the fact that George wears the most comically shocked expression, with saucer-wide eyes and a mouth open to catch flies, it unlocks. Nice.

“Hey! What are you doing?” George demands, reaching over the table for his phone.

You twist away from his reach. Password. You flip the phone, and despite George’s comically shocked expression, it still unlocks. He shouts again when it does, probably realising that you might be taking this seriously. That he might actually be in trouble. That his sugar mummy might not take too kindly to the numerous texts to other women on his phone.

…You really can’t believe you’re a sugar mummy. And for George of all people. What a horrendous waste of money, it’s fucking tragic.

He’s got the texts with someone known as ‘Pizza Hut’ pulled up, with some very flirtatious messages. You scroll up furiously, ducking under George as he gets up from the table and tries to get the phone. Still, backing up, the sight of a very poorly shot dick pic of George’s has you grimacing. Your focus on the picture, trying to decide whether his penis looked so unappealing before you’d learnt of his betrayal, has you distracted when one of the servers come around.

And, well, shirt, meet soup. Very, very hot soup. Everyone? Meet a screeching, klutzy moron.

George takes the chance to advance on you, snatching his phone from you. He doesn’t even seem to care you’re currently getting third-degree burns. The sting scorches through the thin fabric of your dress shirt, burning your skin. George grabs you again, his grip harsh enough this time you know it will bruise, and you can’t really say why you do what you do at that moment.

Your aunt used to have a chihuahua. It was an ugly, grumpy thing. She’d rescued it late into its life, and it had been treated poorly beforehand. It didn’t like to be touched at all and used to run from anyone who tried. And if you tried to touch it? Cornered it?

Well, of course, it started biting.

George’s howl is the most satisfying thing you’ve ever heard. His squeal of “bitch!” might be even more so. He slaps you away from him, and the sound echoes in the restaurant. Your face stings. When you land ass first in the puddle of still-too-hot soup, you wonder if you might try and bite him again. You don’t think you even broke the skin, considering you can’t taste blood. The other patrons stare on in genuine horror, like they’ve never seen a messy breakup before. One woman raises a hand to her mouth, and gasps-

You find yourself staring up at a furious George, one with a menace in his eyes you’ve never seen before. You wonder, idly, if he’s ever hit you before. Well, not you, but ‘you’. You realise now that he has the capacity for it, that he probably always did.

“What the fuck!?” he hisses, angry eyes darting from side to side, “Biting me?! In fucking public?! Have you lost it, you crazy bitch?! And you got my phone fucking soaked in soup!”

“Did you buy it?” you ask, wiping your mouth with your sleeve to get George’s dirty taste out of your mouth.

He blinks, confused, thrown off by your question, “Huh?”

“Did you buy that phone?” you repeat, your staring starting to turn into a furious glare.

You don’t think he did. Your George had never been able to afford those sorts of things, he’d been as broke as you were. Of course, you’d seen him lust over those items, but you’d always managed to convince him not to go into debt over silly things like sports cars and fancy phones. And even then, you’d been the one to buy him a PS5.

He looks down at the phone and back at you, and you can see his jaw tick.

“I bought it. That’s mine.”

“It was a gift. You’re going to be such a bitter bitch to take back everything you gave me? Gonna leave me out on the fucking street?” he says, spittle flying with angry words.

This was escalating fast. Maybe before you’d have been cowed by his words, but you were genuinely off your rocker by now and were very much willing to tango with this bastard. Like yes, he did terrify you, but so did everything else. You could handle this much at least. You weren’t ready to back down.

“And if I did? What then George? What could you even fucking do?” you throw back, voice rising to match his.

“It’s not your money either, it’s theirs, you little leech!” says the pot.

“Does it matter?” replies the kettle.

Pushing to your feet, you find George without another answer. He stands between you and the exit. With the plain murderous rage on his face, you think he’ll try to grab you again if you run past. He wouldn’t bite you back, but he might slap you or something. So instead, like any good coward does, you run straight to the girl’s bathroom. It hasn’t failed you yet, and you doubt it will today.

You shove into the bathroom, past a woman doing her makeup. Her head bobs up and down as she takes in your seemingly infamous face, and your stained shirt. You stride as far away from her as possible, darting into the last bathroom stall and sitting on the closed toilet lid. You pull your knees to your chest and hiss out a sound of frustration when that presses the sticky liquid against your chest and pants. Not your brightest idea, but you were sort of running on fumes right now.

The bathroom stall is extremely clean. One thing you were quickly realising about rich people is they didn’t have to suffer shitty public bathrooms. You didn’t think they deserved it. Like customer service jobs, and traffic, they built character.

What were you doing? Right, trying not to cry. You’re doing much better than yesterday. Still, sitting on top of the toilet’s closed lid, your phone pressed to your face, you wouldn’t say you’re doing ‘good’.

But because you knew George was too much of a pussy to ever enter the woman’s bathrooms, you refuse to move a single inch. You don’t want to go out there. At all. At all, at all. You’d tried to call Jeanine, but she hadn’t answered. Some P.A. she was. You still weren’t going to fire her. Then you remember that she told you she was going out later, and that she’d left a card with you. Digging through your pocket, you decide it’s finally time to die when you realise you lost the card somewhere along the line.

So, she wasn’t going to come save you as your knight in shining armour.

You can’t remember Molly’s number. Who did these days? That was your phone’s job. So you were left with… this. You were left with this. Four blocked numbers and a third had sent an automatic reply because he was driving. Alfred was probably busy. Weren’t butlers always very busy?

…Rich people weren’t often very busy. They had butlers and assistants to do all their chores. You unblock all four of the Waynes that you have on your phone.

The first thing you notice is the amount of texts between ‘you’ and Dick. Scrolling and scrolling, you find most of them are him checking up on you and one-word replies from the old you. He’s friendly and accepting, even when you respond in cruel and aggressive tones. The further back you scroll, the kinder your replies are. At one point it seems like the two of you had a good relationship.

You check the other chats. Tim’s message log is filled with coffee requests sent back and forth between you, Damian’s is completely empty, and Bruce’s has had no response from your phone in years. But eventually, you scroll back far enough that you find an actual conversation instead of just ‘Call Alfred’ repeated every few days.

‘You’: I miss them.

‘Bruce Wayne’: I know. I miss them too.

You press the back button, sighing. That felt like you’d seen something you shouldn’t have, like you’d peeked into someone’s diary. Which was unbelievably stupid. All of this is unbelievably stupid. You should just leave, you should just be brave. Two days ago you faced off against one of your worst fears, but today you couldn’t even handle George Lancaster.

You want someone to rescue you. You know no one will unless you ask. It makes you choke on your own self-disgust. This is the second time in one day. God, maybe you should just do it yourself. It’s not like you couldn’t pay for your own Uber.

And still, you find yourself clicking on a name and begging. Skin crawling, you type and retype the text probably a hundred times. You go from long apologies to begging to rants you never intended to send in the first place. Tap, tap, tap, and then you delete, delete, delete.

What you settle on is simple.

‘You’: hey. can you come pick me up? thx

Maybe a bit too simple. You cross your arms and tuck yourself in the good ol’ fetal position. You feel like you’ve spent half your time holding yourself like this the past three days.

‘Dick Grayson’: I’ll be there in five.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

#Series:WWW #yandere batfam #batfam x reader #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader

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raeofgayshine · 2 years

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This fic might fucking kill me but I think it will be worth it because holy fucking shit. Holy fucking shit.

#ravenpuff rambles #the things I am doing to Jason holy fucking shit that poor child #did I give myself anxiety trying to describe anxiety yes #but did it make for an realistic experience you betcha #it just occurred to me this time around with this au that Jason is 12 and dealing with massive shit on his own #so adding Tim’s shit to it only makes him more upset #so Jason is having a not so fun good time because Tim keeps dropping stuff on him and he’s trying not to freak out and upset Tim but that’s #making things *worse* and he is litterally a ball of anxiety and anger ready fo explode #don’t worry though Bruce will be there for him when he does #also I’m having a fun time exploring and explaining Jason’s anxiety and how it’s also tied to his anger #like sometimes when he’s super anxious he gets fucking angry or lashes out because he has an intense fight response #when my anxiety is really bad I sometimes get fucking angry so yes I am projecting but #i also think it fits him!!! really well!!!#there’s also the way his anger and anxiety are mixed because the same thing can make him both angry and anxious #like learning Tim’s parents have been leaving him alone and the kid has been sneaking out alone for months #makes him angry because wtf but also anxious because wtf something could happen to Tim #and he’s trying to show known of it and only mildly succeeding and he really wishes he brought someone older #but as he is going to learn in the future Tim will only show up for him alone and no matter what he tries #the kid runs off and jsut doesn’t come out of Batman or Nightwing or Batgirl are too close #So that’s going to be fun for Jason to deal with but at least after the first couple of meetings #Tim stops dropping so much fucked up new stuff on him so Jason is at least prepared #that’s when they get to fun things like Tim coming out as trans or Jason constantly fussing over how much Tim eats #a lot of nights in the diner or a Batburger talking and doing homework and Jason just hanging out with the kid for an hour or two #Jason constantly bringing extra blankets in the Batmobile to wrap Tim up in until he sends him on his way home #before it gets too too cold Jason teaching the kid some self defense because he needed it for crying out loud #it becomes Jason acquires a brother he sees for an hour or two most nights sometimes more when things are really slow #and Jason trying real hard not to dig into the kids personal life on his own and figure out who they are and kidnap- I mean adopt them #because he doesn’t want to lose trust

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wondersinwaynemanor · 4 months

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ONE of the rare times Bruce has used the distress signal was

First: when Jason finally came home and Bruce didn't know how to face his son because he sucks at expressing his feelings.

Second: when his four sons got de aged because of magic. Zatanna and Constantine were in some other dimension and he didn't know who to contact.

You're asking where the signal leads to? To Alfred ofc.

Bruce - I'm positive I'm not gonna use the signal from now on, Alfred. I got this.

Alfred - It's not bad to ask for help, Master Bruce.

SO when four of his sons show up to his study, Bruce is getting quite nervous because they don't usually show up together unless it was very, very serious. His finger is already close to his watch where the signal is.

Bruce - Boys, something wrong?

Dick is smiling apologetically, scratching the back of his head.

Jason - Get ready, B, it's gonna be intense.

Tim - Sorry, Bruce, there was nothing we can do.

Bruce - Just tell me. *finger so close to the signal*

Damian - She's pregnant, Father.

Bruce - ((getting a heart attack???)) WHO GOT PREGNANT? *walks to the boys* Boys, I swear to God, how many times have I told you about that, *covers Damian's ears* you should learn to use protection!!!

Jason - I mean.. Damian exists and you didn't use one, Bruce. >:D

Dick - At least we got a baby brother! :3

Tim rolls his eyes and thinks of getting another round of coffee for the night. zzzz

Damian - Father, relax, it's the stray rabbit you brought home from the Justice League mission. She's pregnant. Jon was the one who knew.

Bruce - What? *stares at the three other boys* Why did you make it sound like it's a big deal?

Damian - It's a big deal, Father, because there's going to be a baby rabbit and I'm not sure how I can raise such innocence.

Tim - It was Jason's idea to rattle you.

Jason - Just some teasing, B. >:D

Dick - Just to prepare you for the future. O:)

Bruce - ((his heart must have stopped at this point???)) Christ Almighty-

Once the boys leave the room, Bruce uses the distress signal and Alfred brings him a cup of tea.

Alfred - Not bad to ask for help, Sir.

Bruce - *sighs*

#batfamily #incorrect batfamily quotes #batdad #batsons #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #alfred pennyworth #this family is chaotic but I adore them

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rad-batson · 1 year

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Here’s some more about the game :D for your reading pleasure @portal-to-oblivion (Based on this post)

Freestyle Checkers: A Tim and Damian Special OR “How can we make talking to people a competition?”

They are sneaky. They are underhanded. They will do anything to win.

Originally, this was a ploy to get Bruce to ban them from the galas. Over the coming months, however, they begin to enjoy attending. A little too much.

Tim starts a conga line and convinces everyone on his team to join before marching them to Damian’s side.

Damian subtly moves the tables just an inch or two to the right all night until the whole room has switched seating arrangements.

After a particularly eventful game, Bruce now requires them both to empty their pockets and walk through a metal detector before entering the ballroom.

Tim uses his role as company heir to befriend everyone on his team and then introduce them to one another. He accidentally started a coup once.

Damian uses his puppy eyes to woo the guests into doing his bidding and avoid punishment.

He also sets fire to the curtains.

They are repeatedly caught giving death glares to each other from across the ballroom…but that’s normal. What’s not normal is the two giving death glares to a seemingly random guest at the same time. (She was only going to say hello to Maxine. Why does she feel like she’s in mortal danger?)

Tim spikes the punch with a hint of laxatives so everybody sticks to the bathrooms on Damian’s side.

Several games in, Damian finds a loophole in the rules. Even if the pieces can’t know they’re in a game, that doesn’t mean others can’t. He pays several catering staff to form a physical barrier between certain guests and places. Tim is livid and demands the loophole be written out.

Damian, after stealing a woman’s expensive watch: “Oh, I think I saw it at table seven! Here, let me take you there :)”

Tim makes a kid cry at table 20 so everyone will avoid that side of the room.

Tim: “To the left now, y’all! Left again! Right foot two stomps! Keep going left!”

Every other batfamily member has joined the game at least once, both as a piece AND as a player. On a particularly boring night, it was Tim v. Damian v. Steph v. Jason v. Duke. Every attendee was an unwilling participant. Including Bruce.

Damian is the reason death threats are no longer allowed for the game.

Tim: “Oh, you don’t want to talk to Nicole. Did you hear what she said about Leandra last night? The drama!”

Damian, tugging a guest’s arm: “Hey, is your blue Mercedes parked outside?” Guest: “Oh, hi sweetie :) Yes, why do you ask?” Damian: “It exploded.”

Damian studies the attendance sheet, makes a mental list of who eats what kind of dessert according to previous galas, then chooses all the guests who he knows like chocolate. Suddenly, there’s a surprise chocolate fountain on Tim’s side!

Tim studies the attendance sheet then figures out their addresses, hacks into their Facebook, stalks their Friends list, makes a chart of who is on good and bad terms, then chooses his team based on that.

Both of the above methods listed fail spectacularly

Damian: “So…I win.” Tim: “Damian, this is a hostage situation.” Damian: “But they’re lined up on your side. I win.” Tim: You know, I’m starting to think you set this up.”

He did.

During one particular night, a Wayne benefactor figures out what’s going on and tries to expose them so they team up, completely ruin his public reputation, and get him banned from all future galas to preserve the game.

No matter how hard he tries, Bruce cannot stop them from playing.

#batfamily #tim drake #damian wayne #batbros #batfam #bruce wayne #batman #incorrect batfamily quotes #dc #dc robin #red robin #robin damian #dc universe #damian al ghul

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bruciemilf · 8 months

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What if Alred was Thomas Wayne's body guard but Thomas was too busy with med school to take care of himself so Alred started cooking and cleaning for him and made sure he was a functional human being. When Martha came along they both fell for her then slowly for each other until something happens and they're all in love and happy with each other. Sadly Martha is just as "bad at being a functional human being™" as Thomas. Alfred assigns himself as the butler even though he's the grand embodiment of a house husband and when Bruce comes along he realises that Bruce got double the "bad at being a functional human being™" from his parents but he loves his son no matter how hopeless he is.

AAAAAA, okay. So, I forsee some heat in the near future for this take, but. The Waynes, -- or at LEAST Thomas, -- being southern on some form. You think that means easing their gothic roots? FOOL.

It just means that Thomas Wayne most definetly walked out with a tall, black rodeo hat, covered in sparkles, shimmering from head to toe, and somehow rizzed up a former british intelligence member.

Martha and Alfred are the freaks here tho; for instantly melting for a man who uses "ya'll".

Also; Imagine being Clark Kent, snarkily saying " bless your heart" to Batman, and that motherfucker doesn't miss a beat before saying. " It's blessed enough, sweetheart" in a Georgia drawl. I'd kill myself.

#bruce wayne #thomas wayne #dc #dc comics #alfred pennyworth #pennywaynes #clark kent

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tablestoastandtime · 2 months

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Legacy and Shadows

Say what you will about large parts of Tim's characterization being a product of the archetype he used to embody in the DC universe, it's kind of fucked up to suddenly become a completely different kind of character without your say so.

Or, Tim and the fact he doesn't get to have a future.

Tim wasn't sure what to make of the way everyone seemed confident that one day Damian would be Batman.

The kid was the only one to say it out loud, for the most part, but like a surprising amount of things that came out of his mouth everyone seemed to mostly take it for truth. And to be fair, when had Damian ever let anyone really stop him from going after something he felt he had a right to? So maybe it was true, if only because he was going to make sure of it.

It was just. People used to think that about Tim, too. Not that he'd ever said that, ever even wanted it. If anything, Tim had spent as much time as he could reminding people that he wasn't Batman and had no intention of being him. But the shadow of it had lingered, and part of Tim had been bracing for it for years.

After all, Dick wanted to be Batman even less than Tim did, had initially been willing to let the mantle die to avoid it. Dick was Nightwing in a way not everyone ever got to inhabit their titles. Part of what made Dick one of the best of them was how he managed the split; by not letting there be one. Dick was Nightwing was Coach Grayson was whatever bullshit name he'd picked up while playing super spy. He never stopped being himself in any of those roles, for all that he'd put on the appropriate hat to play the crowd. There was a difference between performing and lying, and Dick was born for the lights.

Batman didn't have much to do with light even at the best of times.

And on the other end of the spectrum, Batman was bad for Jason in a way that honestly caught Tim off guard when he first saw it. Sure none of them had been at their best back then, all alone in their own seas of grief, but Jason had lost whatever stability he'd had for a while there, and was only more recently leveling back out. He'd latched onto the mantle as both connection and insult, a last 'fuck you' to a man he wasn't ready to let go of yet. For Jason the cowl hadn't been about any actual interest in the job that needed doing. And yeah, maybe Tim was a bit biased because if he ever saw Jason in a batsuit again he was liable to do something truly stupid to pay him back for last time. What was worse, being attacked by a symbol of trauma or a symbol of faith?

Tim sure knew that he hadn't liked his end of the stick, at the very least. Maybe he'd feel differently if things hadn't gone the way they had, but he didn't want Jason to be Batman and it was only mostly personal.

Even before all that though, the idea of legacy had still been haunting Tim for longer than he'd wanted to admit. People died, heroes died, Tim knew that better than he knew what school he'd taken second year bio at, but the job always remained. Dick had only been interested in doing part of that job. He'd do the parts he wanted to well, Tim had always believed that, but that still left the rest of the job.

And Tim had kind of figured that would be his responsibility.

He hadn't always been happy about it, had resented the shapes Bruce built into his work even as he'd learned more and more why they'd been necessary to keep the undead freight train of the Bat going. Tim didn't like a lot of what Batman had to be to be effective, but he understood it and he didn't want to see Gotham or the world go without the pillar he represented. If you wanted a job done right, sometimes you had to do it yourself. Tim wouldn't ask anyone else to do something he wasn't willing to do, and if it meant Gotham got to keep its hero then yeah, he'd put on the cowl one day. He'd already tried once.

More than that, Tim was pretty sure Bruce used to see things the same way. Half of his training only made sense if it was to be something that was both more and less than Robin. He'd been preparing Tim for a role that wanted to eat him alive, and for all that Tim had gotten maybe more attached than was strictly healthy to the Robin mantle, it had become a part of him rather than his whole identity. Robin leapt into dark and danger feet first. To be Batman was to live there all the time.

Whether Tim had liked it or not, he'd spent the better part of the last four years half-knowing he'd have to move there one day and he'd lived like it was true. Frustrated, fighting it sometimes and dutifully twisting his edges to better fit others, but always like it was a future he couldn't afford to be unprepared for.

And then Damian came into their lives and Darkseid tried to transtemporally nuke Tim's remaining mental health. There was a paranoid imp that lived in the back of Tim's head that still half-believed that the whole thing had been another elaborate test, except this time if it had been then Tim must have failed because he never did get his life back afterwards.

Tim put himself and everything he believed into a blender to find the cracks in everyone else's certainty and for all that he'd been right it had never even mattered. The Justice League found out about and went after Bruce independently. They'd only called him after he'd spent months playing into his own worst instincts to get the job done, just to do almost all of the work in front of him.

Maybe he'd done it all wrong. Maybe he'd been doing it wrong for a while.

Even if he hadn't wanted it, he'd been Tim Drake. Robin. The kid who might one day be Batman. And now, by some silent consensus he hadn't been invited to, he wasn't.

It was a relief. It was a deeply haunted house he'd been written out of the will for, it was a black hole that had materialized over his head and swallowed everything he had seen ahead of him.

It was the reality Tim needed to figure out how to live with.

He was doing his best these days, trying to fit the pieces of the person he used to be into the new shape of his life, but he kept cutting himself on the edges where they didn't quite line up. Cut other people sometimes too, even when he tried not to. But when he tried to take space to keep the sharpness to himself, it took his eyes off the movement of the world and when he looked up he had to start all over again to try to put together the puzzle of what he was going to do for the rest of his life.

And through it all, Tim kept turning over the issue of finding a name to use, methodologies to employ, somewhere he could even live, because the ones he used to have didn't really belong to him anymore. Never had, in all fairness.

They'd always been things gifted to him in exchange for dedication and hard work. He'd thought at the time that had meant earning. Now, of course, he knew better.

And now he had to do without them.

Who was Tim Drake if he was never going to be Batman? Who was Tim Drake, as someone who used to be Robin?

He had no idea. Tim just hoped it didn't take the rest of his life to figure it out.

#tim drake #my writing #quick little exercise to try to get back into the habit of writing a thought to completion

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punkeropercyjackson · 27 days

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Stephanie Brown:

Is poor

Has an abusive dad who was also a supervillain and that led to her becoming a superhero to spoil his plans but she focused a lot on helping out other less fortunate people in addition to fighting crime

Did badly often in school despite her extreme intellegence

Has anger issues and violent tendencies that manifest in her getting extra brutal in fights and being lowkey mean in general but she almost entierly directs it to people who deserve it

Is emotionally intense with ways of showing friendship that her classmates found offputting and that led to her being isolated from them and having almost no friends

Listens to Metallica

Took Tim Drake on a date to a shitty basement party with a bunch of alt teens

Was willing to kill at 14,including her own dad and only changed that because Bruce Wayne convinced her too

Loved Cassandra Cain romantically in a gritty dark future Batman run,has been Batwoman in two which is a mantle that has been held exclusively by a Kate Kane who is a butch lesbian and has shown multiple hints of being bi in the main timelines

Yelled and screamed at and even assaulted grown ass adults in her teen years for treating her badly with no fear and this stays into her adulthood

Grew up to be a Team Mom by at least her Batgirl days and the targets of her mothering were a biracial boy(Damian Wayne),two darkskin black girls(Nell Little and Tiffany Fox),a japanese girl(Maps Mizoguchi)and MANY other unnamed kids we see her being implied to care for

Presents super femininely but in a way that most guys in-universe find bad instead of attractive and she dosen't care about this because she dosen't want normies

Is a literature nerd,an artist,a gamer,a pianist AND a gymnist

Makes her own superhero gear

Uses optimism for a better world and trauma fueled spite as her motivation for heroism

Got treated like shit by almost everyone as a kid but we see this explicitly in her hero days with how much Bruce puts her down because she wasn't good enough for him

Does activism even outside of hero work

Is canonically pastel punk and accidentally autistic-coded and genuinely a real weirdgirl,not a fucking 'basic white girl' or a queen bee just because she's blonde and blue eyed and it's worth noting she's also been described as flat-chested as a jab but it not working because she loves her looks perfectly and that she's never shown any particular liking for being blonde and seeing as she got her hair from her dad,this is completely valid

She's Stephanie Brown,not Stacie White.Stop.Making.Her.Only.Trait.Her.Gender.Babygirl deserves better

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flamingpudding · 7 months

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Fictober23 Prompt: 12 - "I am not saying I didn't like it."

Fandom: DPxDC

Rating: T

Warnings: -

Danny grinned at Jason who was sitting across from him on the table. Before the other a plate of… something was placed, accompanied by a cup of tea. Danny's first attempt at cooking. Jason had not managed to escape the Manor in time and had been unlucky enough to come across Danny, Alfred's new assistant / ward entrusted to him from an old 'friend'.

Of course Danny had to have that stupid baby deer and begging eye looks as he pleaded to Jason to please try his cooking and help him work out how to make it better so that he could help out Alfred more in the future. Jason was going to say no but the other teen was very insistent and had an iron grip.

He was pretty sure Danny had cut off his arms blood circulation when he had gotten dragged to the kitchen. Either way he was now presented with something that looked inedible and a tea that smelled heavenly.

"Try it!" Danny smiled brightly and damit, maybe his brothers were right saying he was a good damn pushover. Jason swallowed, looking from Danny's bright eyes down at the plate before him.

"Fuck it…" If it tasted bad he would wash it down with the heavenly smelling tea. He stabbed something on the plate, ignored the fact that he was entirely sure he had seen it wiggle and stuffed it in his mouth, eyes tightly shut.

He waited for the bad taste to impact.

And waited.

But it never game, carefully he opened one eye seeing Danny staring expectantly at him. Carefully he started chewing and his eye widened. Not expecting to taste what he did, Jason stared at the dish before him that he could only describe as the stew of doom.

"Well? How does it taste! Is it as good as Mr. Alfred's stew?"

"How the fuck…" was the only thing Jason was able to say still not believing his taste buds. Stil in disbelief Jason then took a sip of the heavenly smelling tea and promptly spit it out like it had burned his tongue, just not with the temperature but with its taste. He coughed, hitting the table a couple of times. His eyes teared up as he stared at the sheepish teen before him.

"What the fuck, Danny?" He wheezed out, trying to catch his breath after the coughing fit.

"I was sure you were going to like ecto-tea, considering you already have ectoplasm in your system. You didn't appear to mind it in the food."

Jason's eye twitch. "You mixed fucking ectoplasm into this food?"

If Alfred weren't so fond of this boy Jason would have punched him already. Sure Danny was a good damn enigma and when Alfred had introduced them the teen had freaked out on Jason about how he had not treated his apparent sickness before proceeding to explain to Alfred and Bruce that Jason apparently needed something called ectoplasm to stay healthy. That been a fucking ordeal, Jason certainly didn't want to repeat. Plus point was that this ectoplasm did indeed cure his Pit Madness, bad point was he had to take something that looked like fucking Pit Water on a regular basis.

And now Danny was apparently using him as his experimental guinea pig for his ectoplasm cooking. He could have at least said something about having it put into the food and tea. At least the teen looked somewhat apologetic at the glare Jason was sending him.

"Sorry… you just always made a face when you had to take the ectoplasm, so I tried making it taste better for you." He couldn't help it as he ruffled the others hair earning a pout in return. The teen reminded him of his brothers, if Alfred hadn't claimed Danny already as his, Jason was sure Bruce would have attempted to adopt Danny.

"I am not saying I didn't like it. Just don't put ectoplasm in tea anymore." He stabbed with his fork into the wiggling food to emphasize his next words When he lifted it he raised an eyebrow at the wiggling goob of something, that apparently doesn't taste as bad as it looks. "It's better in the food, despite causing it to look like something you shouldn't eat."

There was a crash behind him in the kitchen area right after he had placed the fork in his mouth and Jason arched an eyebrow at the suddenly very nervous looking Danny.

"What was that?" Jason asked, his eyebrow going even higher as Danny suddenly pulled out a green glowing steak knife out of seemingly nowhere.

"Nothing!"

Another crash resounded behind him and Jason was very tempted to turn around to see what caused it. But before he could, the green steak knife flew right past his head. "Nothing? Are you sure?"

"Uhm well… I might have kept quiet about a side effect ectoplasm can have on food." Another crash and Jason wondered if this was why Danny had waited for Alfred to be out of the Manor on errands before he attempted to cook.

"I won't say anything to Alfred as long as you don't use the good steak knives."

"Deal." Danny then proceeded to pull out the Demon Brat's throwing knives. Wide eyed Jason watched how Danny jumped over the table into the kitchen area, he turned in his seat to continue watching but found that Danny had disappeared chasing whatever had caused the crashing sounds.

"Demon Brat is going to bust a blood vessel, no one touches his blades." Jason muttered, turning back to his wiggling but actually good tasting food, deciding that for now, he would ignore the fact that Danny 100% was not a normal teen Alfred had taken in for a friend. If his knowledge about this ectoplasm was't enough to tip them off then the way had moved and used the blades just now definitely would and had.

Taking another bite, Jason marbled at the taste before he chuckled and wondered what would happen first. Him and his siblings figuring out what was up with Danny, the Demon Brat attempting to stab Danny for having used his throwing knives, or Danny figuring out their nightlife activities and the reason why Damian owned throwing knives in the first place.

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brokenstar28 · 7 months

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Incorrect Bat-Family Quotes 2

Damian: I don’t hate you. I hate everyone.

Jason: The feeling is mutual.

~~~

Jason: Would you rather kill Tim, or—

Damian: Yes, kill him.

Jason: I didn’t say the other—

Damian: I don’t need to hear it.

Tim: …I’m feeling a little unsafe.

~~~

Dick: I've never encountered a problem that can't be solved by a spontaneous musical number.

~~~

Damian: Would you take a bullet for me?

Dick: ...yes?

*Tim angrily burst into the room*

Damian: *running away* Great, thanks!

~~~

*the TV is freaking out*

Jason: Don’t worry, you have to treat an electronic like you treat a patient on life support.

*unplugs the TV, then plugs it back in again. nothing changes*

Jason: Yeah, that didn’t work with my grandma either.

~~~

Tim: Do you ever feel like exploding? Have you experienced the urge to enter the process of combustion? Has your mind created a logical idea, known as thought, to suddenly disperse your body into thousands of particles?

Jason: It’s 3 am, please go back to sleep.

~~~

Damian: I swear to god I'm the only one here with a braincell.

Dick, Jason, Steph, and Tim: ALL HAIL the keeper of the sacred braincell! Hail! Hail

~~~

Tim: I’m totally useless.

Damian: You’re not totally useless.

Damian: You can be used as a bad example.

~~~

Bruce: I’m telling you, my team is competent.

Dick, rushing in: Bruce! Tim tried to make pasta in the coffee pot and now it's broken!

~~~

Bruce: In your opinion, what is the height of stupidity?

Damian, turning to Tim: How tall are you?

~~~

Tim: All I did was kill Damian, is that really such a crime?

Dick: ...

Dick: Yes?!

~~~

Jason: I just wanted to say that over the years, I have come to regard you as… people I met.

~~~

Dick: Get in the Halloween spirit and make a ghost!

Tim: That’s called murder and I heard somewhere that it was illegal.

~~~

Jason: Hey, Dick. These candies you gave me? They sucked.

Dick: But you ate them all.

Jason: I had to make sure they all sucked.

~~~

Tim: I have a problem.

Dick: If it's harder than 2+2, I can't help.

~~~

Damian: Could you guys at least try to see this from my perspective?

Tim: *crouches down*

Cass: *kneels down*

Dick: *sits on the floor*

Damian: ...

Damian: I hate all of you.

~~~

Dick: Is it still visible? Where Bruce slapped me?

Jason: Your face looks like a don't walk signal.

Duke: Your face looks like a photo negative for the hamburger helper box.

Damian: A palm reader could tell Bruce's future by looking at your face.

Tim: The phrase 'talk to the hand cause the face ain't listening' doesn't work for you, because the hand is your face.

Dick: ...A simple 'yes' would've sufficed.

~~~

Damian: I never understood why people cared so much about their dumb friends until I got a dumb friend myself.

Damian: *Picks up Jon*

Damian: I’ve only befriended Jon for a day and a half, but if anything happened to him I would kill everyone in this room and then my self.

Damian: And then burn the world.

~~~

Dick: Good morning!

Damian: Is it? Is it really?

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somefanficrecomendations · 2 months

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February Monthly Recap

I had a lot of fics this month. Every one of these deserves a dedicated post of its own but in the interest of efficiency this roundup will have to do!

BATMAN

Uptown Girl by orphan_account (Stephanie Brown/Cassandra Cain), 60k, Case Fic, Friends to Lovers Stephanie Brown has three problems: a supervillain father with a deadly scavenger hunt in the works, a mysterious rich girl who's way too interested in her life, and one really, really painful hobby. Alternatively: a different kind of Spoiler origin story.

The Lois Angle by cabezas_de_vaca (gen), 15k, Bruce & Lois Friendship, Case Fic What she had with Bruce was novel, exhilarating. She had fallen in love several times, and that was like a great swoop of a wing, a flash and flush and then long tumble, but this was like a warmth that welled up from within. This was Bruce grappling up to her thirtieth story Metropolis apartment, stowing the Batsuit in the bathroom, and watching StarTrek with her. This was her driving to the manor when she couldn't sleep, only to find she could do it there. This was having a friend. Or: Despite the long shadow Batman casts and the demands of being one of the youngest Pulitzer winners ever, Bruce and Lois manage to steady each other, in the way that only friends can. Also, there's a case they need to solve.

the scientific method by orphan_account (gen), 20k, Sibling Bonding, Duke-centric 5 stupid ways Duke's siblings discovered how his powers worked, and 1 time he figured it out for himself. "You have no idea," Dick said. "I had to live through all of their teenage years. They were each independently obsessed with Mythbusters at separate points in their life. I'm pretty sure Cass and Tim have wanted a meta to experiment on since they were 14, but Bruce always said no."

Meet Me Where You're Going by Hinn_Raven (Stephanie Brown/Cassandra Cain), 68k, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining When things get complicated in Hong Kong, Cass requests help from Batman Inc. Unbeknownst to her, Bruce dispatches not one of her brothers, but Stephanie Brown, who Cass has not spoken to since she gave up the Batgirl mantle. Steph is eager to reunite with her best friend, but things between them are complicated. Not the least of the problems is the fact that Steph might be falling in love… but of course, Cass is straight, so Steph really shouldn’t dwell on that. Friendship and romance, conspiracy and adventure await the two of them as they try to unravel a complicated plot that seeks to stop Batman Incorporated before it can truly begin.

when you move, fall like a thunderbolt by orphan_account (Stephanie Brown/Cassandra Cain), 5k, Villain!Steph, Canon Divergence In another universe, Stephanie Brown's plans to kill her father aren't interrupted by Batman. Which means nobody stops her from tripping and falling headlong into running her own gang, and then a little more intentionally rising to the top of the underworld. Meanwhile, seeing as Bruce only has one kid who actually wants to carry on the good name, Cassandra Cain takes over as the Batman of Gotham's future. This would be a fine turn of events if it weren't for the fact that they've been dating on-and-off for ten years.

falling without caution by coffeecrowns (gen), 17k, Bad Parent!Bruce, PTSD Jason is twenty, decidedly less into murder, trying to avoid developing agoraphobia, and putting together some pieces into a life. Tim is sixteen, riding the edge of burnout, and in a show of his truly baffling survival instincts, decides Jason is friend shaped.

MICE ON VENUS by NEOCULTUREDAUS (gen), 3k, Tim & Damian Bonding “Timothy, if this is revenge for me trying to kill you, I need you to know I’m not sorry.” Damian’s eyes were clamped shut, hands fisting Tim’s hoodie so tightly that if Tim tried moving, he simply wouldn't be able to. “I’m not trying to get revenge. And open your eyes, you can’t ride a skateboard with them closed.” Tim patronized, prying Damian’s hands off him, you know, like someone evil who didn’t care for the wellbeing of his younger brother. Or The one where skater Tim takes his artist younger brother graffiti painting

So Sweet Saluteth Me by Lishalalalalala (gen), 7k, Good Dad!Bruce Sleep deprived™ Jason hangs out with Dick then they surprise Bruce at work with early lunch and some love. This fic is inspired by farmers’ markets on those summery days and the belief that if I run fast enough the sad can never catch me. (I mean you are telling me that Bruce Thomas/Alan Wayne wouldn’t be absolutely BASKING in joy if his kids just decided to randomly show up at Wayne Enterprise and pay him a little midday visit? )

to count by miles or days or people (when will i stop missing you) by jcp_sob_rjl_lmep (gen), 22k, Angst, Hurt/Comfort When Duke is kidnapped off of the streets of Gotham on his way back to the Manor from visiting his parents, it sends the entire Batfamily into a panic. With very little evidence to go on and time slipping past them, there's no help coming as Duke is forced to make a grand escape and get himself home before his kidnappers find him once more.

birds and brothers and other assorted synonyms by Ao3time, hoebiwan, quandaries_and_contradictions (gen), 21k, Series, Found Family A Reverse Robin AU in which Damian is a tired older brother, Duke is a ray of sunshine, and Dick is a baby talon.

Emergency rooms and chicken nuggets by Lilac_hyacinth (Bernard Dowd/Tim Drake) 7k “So…” Duke drawled, sounding suspiciously wide-awake for the day shift kid at two-thirty in the morning. “If I said Damian and I are in a bit of trouble, on a scale of Jason to Cass, how likely are you to kill us?” Clearing his throat and rubbing his eyes to try to wake himself up, Tim grimaced. “What the fuck did you do?” “Nothing.” Or Tim and Bernard get out of bed at two in the morning to go across town and pick up Tim's reckless little brothers.

Pick a Pocket Full of Pennies by Trekkele (gen), 24k, Found Family, Fluff, AU-No Powers The life and times of Dick Grayson, unintentional ringleader to a gang of pickpockets, and how he learned to let go and get adopted. Or something.

SPIDER-MAN

Death Before Inaction by hppjmxrgosg (gen), 37k, BAMF Peter Parker, WIP “Fuck off, Nicky.” “Hasn’t anyone ever told you spider-napping is illegal?” “You can’t hold me here, I know my spider-rights.” “God, you guys are so old. What are you? Like 27?” “Scale of 1 to 10, how upset would you be if I told you I banged your mom?” - Or, I got my grubby little hands on the spider-man time line and fucked around a little bit. Not much (everything) changes.

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kittyball23 · 5 months

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Hot Tubbing (a Trolls fanfic)

Summary: After babysitting his 13 nieces and nephews, Branch unwinds in one of Vacay Island’s jacuzzi-like hot springs… and is soon joined by Poppy

A/N: November 17th is finally here!! Welcome to the first story of my new oneshot collection "Grown-Up Stuff," (also found on AO3, Fanfiction.net, and Wattpad under the same name in addition to being posted here on Tumblr) which will mostly be centered around Broppy, but may feature some Cliva and other couples in the future :)

FYI this fic has been Rated M, as it will have adult themes present, though nothing explicitly written. You do not have to read if these topics are something you are not comfortable with. If you do decide to go forth, all I can say is enjoy! 💕

__________________________________________

"Ahhh…"

Now that felt good. While the water had stung a bit upon entering, it didn't take very long at all for it to work its magic and ease the soreness in Branch’s muscles. Pretty soon, he was leaning back, his arms on either side of him and a sigh of satisfaction escaping his lips. His brother Bruce wasn't kidding. The hot springs really were a great place to unwind, especially after being tossed and wrestled by kids who were far taller than Trolls. Most of the time, this type of experience befell Bruce, but, given that he and Brandy had taken the night off to have some alone time, babysitting duty had fallen upon Branch.

For the first half of the night at least.

He rotated positions with John Dory for the second half, and could now take a moment to relax properly. And on Vacay Island, everything was top-notch in that department. The potent warmth was soon working to bring a sense of sleepiness to him, and he allowed his eyes to shut. Aimless thoughts wandered throughout his mind: of Pop Village, of his brothers, but, mostly of Poppy. He could feel a smile forming on his lips even in his twilight state. Poppy... She looked good in his head, whether it was a memory or whether it was just fantasies of what their future together could bring. One of those, admittedly, was marriage and a family. Maybe not a family as big as Bruce's, but still, a few Troll kiddos wouldn't be so bad. Not bad at all. And neither would the way to go about making that happen... Branch felt as though the water got even hotter when he thought of that.

The Troll didn't think he was too far gone in his exhaustion, but somewhere he figured he must've fallen asleep to the hum of the bubbling water and wind in the foliage, because it was a soft, feminine voice that he registered next.

"You look pretty relaxed."

Branch stirred, blinking drowsy eyes up at the newcomer.

"Huh, wha?" he mumbled, rubbing an eye and registering that it was Poppy who'd spoken. She peered down amusedly at him, her lips sipping at the straw of a fruity drink and her legs slightly submerged into the water from her spot at the edge of the pool. But if the sheer presence of his beloved wasn't enough to stir him awake, then it sure was the attire she had on. The swimsuit was a powder-yellow two-piece, hugging her body snugly and extenuating her slim figure in ways that made his mind race with desire.

He sat straight up, flustered. "Oh! H-hey, Poppy," he stammered, trying to sound casual. Branch cleared his throat, and managed to speak a little more controlled the second time around. "So, um, what are you doing here? I thought you and Viva were hitting the waves."

Poppy nodded. "Yeah, we did for a little bit. But then we called it early. Veevs had other plans… with your brother."

Branch cooked his head. "Clay?"

"Yeah," Poppy confirmed with a smirk. "She wanted to spend some time with him… and I wanted to spend some time with you." She glanced down at him with a half-lidded gaze, giving a flirtatious little growl.

Branch’s eyes bugged.

"So whaddya say, Branch? Got room for one more?"

"Well, I, um, I mean… you can, um, i-if you wanna…"

Poppy smiled. "Great!"

Setting her drink down, she scooted herself over the edge of the pool and plopped inside. The water sloshed a bit, and she hissed at the temperature that befell her skin.

"Ooo, you all right?" Branch asked, concern lacing his voice.

"Oh, yeah, I'm good!" Poppy assured. "Feels really, really nice."

"Yeah," Branch agreed, smirking. "It sure does…" He surprised himself with the husky quality his voice had taken, and realized that it didn't go over Poppy’s head, either. There was a look on her face that could only be described as pleased bewilderment, and he could see a blush forming on her cheeks.

Affected so, she bore into his blue eyes with her deep fuchsia and batted her lashes. "Why don't you come a little closer," she purred, adding her own little suggestive twinge to her words.

Now it was Branch’s turn to blush. A tingle went down his spine - and in other places he wouldn't dare tell her about - but he liked it. And while he wanted to obey, he didn't see the harm in dragging out the tease, even if it was by a minute or two.

"Ehh, I don't know," he said, as though he were indecisive.

Poppy pretended to pout, sticking her bottom lip out. "Aww, come on, I won't bite!" But then she paused, giggled, and added, "Much."

Branch raised an eyebrow. "Much?" he questioned. "What do you mean by that?"

"Get over here and find out," she urged, rolling her eyes playfully.

Branch shrugged. "Fine."

Slowly, purposefully slow, he moved towards her, taking his time inching himself towards her space.

Poppy tapped her fingers impatiently against the edge of the pool. "Can you move any slower?" she whined.

"Can you be any cuter?" he quipped back, finally in enough proximity to be able to wrap an arm around her. Poppy’s arms slinked around his neck, firmly holding him to her as he brought a damp hand up to her cheek, cupping it gently. He waited a heartbeat, letting the sensual tension escalate between them, before allowing himself to lean forward and close the gap.

Poppy sighed deeply as their lips met, melting into the kiss, and Branch felt a surge of affection run through his veins. He tilted his head almost instantly, deepening the connection right away, and she moaned quietly in approval. She was extra sweet, he noted, her taste a hint of pineapple from the fruity concoction she'd been sipping, as well as her usual, strawberry flavor that seemed to permeate every part of her being. It made him feel warm and fuzzy all throughout, making it far too easy to lose himself in the experience. He made a noise of appreciation at the feeling as he pulled away just long enough to gasp in another breath and dive back in, twice as eager this time.

Turned out he wasn’t the only one eager. As he’d learned, Poppy had been the one in their relationship to test the metaphorical waters. First with the peck to the cheek he’d received on the day of the Trolls Kingdom Holiday Gift Swap, and then with the first real kiss they’d shared at Mount Rageous, after he’d successfully opened up to her about his feelings. And now, she was testing herself again.

He hadn’t known what she was up to, until she actually did it. He gasped when he felt a nip, Poppy’s teeth having caught his bottom lip upon one of their breaks for air and tugging lightly for a second before she released. The sensation sent an unexpected bolt of excitement coursing through him, the feeling stronger when he noted Poppy's dark, dilated pupils gazing hungrily at him, her breath coming quicker now. Flirty growls, or no flirty growls, Branch knew one thing - his girlfriend was turned on.

And so was he.

Their next kiss that followed was deeper, and more passionate as a result. Poppy nipped once again, at the corner of his mouth this time, and allowed her next few smooches to trail across his jawline, making a path down the crook of his neck. Branch hummed, his thoughts battling each other. One part of him enjoyed the attention profusely, while the other had him wishing his lips could claim hers again. Both evaporated, however, when he felt her reach a sensitive spot just below his earlobe and take another little nibble. He wouldn't know how to describe the sound that came out of him in response. It might have been a whimper, or it might have been a groan, but either way, it caused Poppy to giggle, the vibration of her laugh tickling Branch's skin.

It wasn't hard to admit that she had a guilty pleasure in prompting reactions out of Branch. Which is why her next idea was getting her excited.

She leaned back, ensuring that her fuchsia gaze was unwaveringly locked to his blue as her hands wandered down, below the water, reaching the hem of his swimming trunks.

Blushing heavily and bracing himself for the onslaught of sensory stimulation that was sure to come, Branch knew he wasn't going to be truly prepared for what was coming next…

… Though, not in the intimate way that he anticipated.

So focused on expecting the next feeling to be under the confines of his swim attire, Branch nearly jumped when an enormous, unforeseen SPPLLAAASH! erupted from the pool in a wave of jacuzzi water that drenched him and Poppy completely!

Poppy shrieked in surprise, ripping herself away from Branch, while her boyfriend sputtered, eyes wide.

"What the - who - ??"

“WOO! Ten outta ten on that cannonball, ay, bro?”

“Oh, nooo,” Branch groaned, already knowing that voice before he even finished rubbing the water out of his eyes completely. “John Dory, you’re not supposed to jump into a jacuzzi! And aren’t you supposed to be watching the kids?!”

His eldest brother adjusted his goggles and blew a raspberry. “Yo, chill, dude, Floyd’s got it covered. He offered to step in and help!”

Branch facepalmed. Oh, Floyd. He knew his favorite brother was big-hearted and always looking out for the rest of their crew… but taking over John Dory’s babysitting duty when not even five minutes had passed by was a little absurd! Branch could probably guess that JD hammed up his struggle just to get out of it.

John Dory then noticed Poppy. “Hey, Poppy Seed! How’s it shakin’ since the last time I saw ya?”

Poppy giggled, meeting him halfway for a fistbump, and shrugged her shoulders. “Oh, you know. Guess you could say I’ve been ‘shaking things up’ with Branch.” She gave her boyfriend a sly look, to which he became bashful, remembering what she had been about to do.

“Oh,” John Dory said, then putting it together and realizing what he’d done. “OHHH, shoot, did I interrupt something here?”

Branch’s deadpanned look told him what he needed to know.

He tittered with embarrassment. “Hehe, my bad! I could totally scoot if ya want. I’m sure there’s gotta be some other jacuzzi here on the isle!”

“No, it’s okay, we were just heading out,” Poppy said, lifting herself over the edge of the pool and reaching for the towel she'd brought with her. “But we’ll see you later, okay?”

JD looked disappointed to see them go, but understood. “It’s all right. Catch y’all later!”

As Branch and Poppy walked off hand in hand, the Pop Queen giggled. Branch glanced at her with curiosity.

“Probably should’ve told him there’d be no guarantee we’d see him later,” she said suggestively.

Branch raised an eyebrow, the heat returning to his cheeks. “Poppy… what do you have in mind?”

She glanced at him mischievously. “Wanna go look for another hot spring? I’m sure John Dory’s right, there’s gotta be more than one on the island. That way we can finish what we started…” She peers down at her place of interest for just a flit of a moment, but even then it causes Branch to blush, stammering his reply.

“S-sure!”

#trolls #trolls 3 #trolls band together #broppy #branch trolls #poppy trolls #dreamworks #fanfiction #kittyball writes #grown up stuff fanfiction #100+

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gonktroll · 3 months

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Imma need u to hand over some Bruce, Creek and Guy hcs 😳🤲🏼

Author's Note:

hiiiii nonnie i can do that for you easy peasy :3 ok so i lied its not easy,, writing is so haaardd,, but we must persist !! i'll be real these are three trolls i don't really think about often...sorry i lied again i think about creek so much...looking back there's more of him than anyone else im so sorry !! lemme know if the formatting is broken or any typos!! also feel free to send in requests also,, the box is open still

on a side note, when did the format tools on tumblr get so crappy?

RELATIONSHIP HEADCANONS

Characters: Bruce, Creek, and Guy Diamond

Word Count & Time: 2, 721 words and 10 Minutes Read. Writing took around Two Weeks. Warnings & Tags: NSFW, Minors Do Not Interact! Contains: fluffy/romantic headcanons, mentions of children & having children (bruce and guy), cake by the ocean by dnce is there i guess, insecurity (bruce and creek), dirty talk (bruce and creek), body worship (bruce), overstimulation (bruce), voyeurism (bruce), cuckoldry (bruce), depictions of a toxic relationship (creek), jealousy (creek), outdoor sex (creek), oral sex (creek), orgasm denial (creek), dacryphilia (creek), power dynamics (creek), genitalia descriptors.

BRUCE

Let it be said: Bruce wants nothing more than to take care of you, please let him nurture you. Let him secure you emotionally, psychically, and mentally. Just let him take the pressure off your shoulders, even if it's for a short while. Do you need help with cleaning up? He's already got the mop and broom ready. Are you getting started with dinner? He's hopping in the kitchen to prep with you. Sparing time is the least he can do for you. You don't even have to ask him to help out, he's already ready to go.

Wouldn't pass up the opportunity to be a little mischievous towards you. Your boyfriend has bad dad jokes, boyish pranks, and an impish banter to behold. He'll have you busting a seam from laughter but he can't help himself. Bruce thinks you look best when you're smiling.

Catching a glimpse of any giggly children and their parents makes his heart yearn for you. Would you want a family like this? What kind of trolls would both your children be? These thoughts follow him for the rest of the day.

He's actively trying to leave Brozone in the past so he can look forward to his future with you. But, sometimes he can't resist showing off to you. He has to let you know how amazing of a singer and dancer he was (and still is). Please, be proud of him.

This troll is a romantic at heart, Bruce is always planning a secret date of some kind. Whenever you briefly mention something you're interested in, he's definitely ironing out the details to make it happen. Seeing the look of surprise on your face during the date makes it all worth it.

He doesn't mind what kind of date you plan, but if you want to make him happy, he loves dates that involve water activities. For instance, a romantic bath with rose petals and soft music is something he'd appreciate. Similarly, a date on the beach with a candlelit dinner would be perfect, and he might even serenade you with 'Cake by The Ocean'.

Playing the role of 'the Heartthrob' for a long time before suddenly creating a new identity has made Bruce feel insecure. He wants to be more than just 'the hottest troll ever' to you. He is more than just a pretty face with rock-hard abs. When you acknowledge who he is and validate his emotions, his stomach starts flipping and his heart is doing somersaults. You might actually be too good for him…

Showing genuine emotions to him and sharing personal moments will get him hotter under the collar than explicit words or seductive clothing ever could. Simply being authentic with each other is enough to spark his desire to be physically intimate with you.

It won't take much to convince Bruce to try something new with you. He loves experimenting and even if it doesn't work out, both of you can laugh about it later.

Bruce isn't fond of quickies, public sex, or rushed sex, he would prefer to take his time with you and hates the idea of being interrupted. There's no set schedule, but you make time for each other. It's best when it's just the two of you and all the time in the world.

During making love, Bruce will always prioritize the experience you're making together. If your legs aren't trembling and your voice isn't hoarse afterward, then he isn't doing his job correctly.

Bruce will talk throughout the whole affair. If he wants a reaction out of you or coax your attention, words are his weapon of choice. A quick aside of sweet teasing to quickly fluster you or lecherous murmurs along the shell of your ear while his hips languidly plunge into your insatiable warmth. Feel free to return his energy and talk back to him, he welcomes it.

There will never be a session where Bruce doesn't lavish you with endless praise and worship your body. You will always be told how attractive and precious you are to him.

He secretly worries you'd find it slutty but he's very interested in watching other trolls flirt with you and has fantasies of watching you fuck someone else. It would take him time to admit it to you, but you may get suspicious of how worked up Bruce gets after someone tries to make a pass at you.

Underneath those beach-bum shorts, Bruce is packing. His sheath is chubby, giving the impression that it's petite or compact. However, make no mistake: Bruce is a grower and it's meaty at full length.

GUY DIAMOND

Get ready to date one of the most dramatic trolls of all time - Guy Diamond. He does everything with emphasis and panache, and why wouldn't he? As an iconic troll, he shouldn't have to limit himself to others' expectations, and he appreciates that you recognize this. Guy is looking for someone who would never ask him to tone it down - in fact, he wants you to encourage him to turn it up! He's not going to dim his glow for anyone, and you make him want to shine even brighter.

Every time he expresses his love, it's extraordinary. He might put on a grand musical performance, surprise you with an extravagant gift, or take you on an unforgettable date night. Guy just has to let you know how much he cares and regular displays of affection just won't do.

Guy Diamond is a unique Pop Troll, possibly the only one, with the special ability to auto-tune his voice. He loves to show off his talent by hitting high notes and emphasizing particular words, all to get you to compliment him. If you tell him how 'cool and special' he is, he will feel elated and proudly strut around like a peacock.

Guy is known as 'THEE Glitter Troll', so it's only natural that his partner should be as stylish and cool as him. However, he sometimes tries to improve his partner's fashion sense or curtail their negative personality traits. This can put pressure on the relationship, as no one likes to be told they're lame. It takes some time for Guy to realize that he is dating his partner for who they are, not who he wants them to become.

You'll have to adjust to his extreme stubbornness. It's even more frustrating when he is aware of the consequences but still chooses to proceed. Unless you have a fondness for men who behave stupidly, it will require a lot of patience until he learns his lessons the hard way.

Another way Guy expresses his affection is by pampering you. He's always looking for opportunities to help you out with anything. He reminds you to take some time out and practice self-care whenever you're feeling overwhelmed. He's also concerned with your health, making sure you eat well and get some exercise. If you haven't socialized much, Guy has no problem taking you to a party today. He reassures you that taking care of you is never a burden, and knowing that you are happy means everything to him.

Raising Tiny Diamond had a positive impact on Guy Diamond's maturity, which is clear in his relationship with you. He has grown more considerate of others' feelings, and more thoughtful about the consequences of his actions. Instead of diving in impulsively, he takes the time to discuss plans with you. He also spends more time contemplating what he wants from your relationship long-term.

Guy loves it when you plan date nights including Tiny. Spending quality time with the two Trolls he loves most makes his heart sing. Watching you show love to Tiny Diamond by playing or singing touches a special place in his heart. He may not say it aloud, but he's started to think of the possibility of having another baby - with you this time.

He doesn't have a preference for who guides or receives during sex, but he likes to lean back and let you take the lead. Guy is not selfish at all, you won't be unsatisfied that's for sure. He believes that making love with you means sharing yourself with each other - and we all know Guy Diamond isn't afraid to share himself with anyone.

When it comes to sex, he will never be afraid to be open about his interests and desires and he expects the same from you.

It's still a mystery how nude trolls hide their genitals but Guy Diamond is rather average in terms of size. And yes, the sheath and balls are glittery.

CREEK

Let's address the elephant in the room: Creek is not a pleasant troll to date.

On one hand, Creek strives to present himself as a reasonable, enlightened voice that brings positive energy to the village. He enjoys the significance he holds and especially wants your respect. On the other hand, he uses this mask to hide his judgmental nature. He is well aware of his social status and takes advantage of it to behave inappropriately. Most trolls cannot comprehend the extent of his behavior which makes it all the easier to manipulate them. You must understand that you will not be the exception as his partner.

Creek will use dating you as a 'shield' to embolden his behavior even more. He's a well-liked troll with an interesting partner and has the Queen's favor as a friend acquaintance. Surely, a well-adjusted and repentant troll like Creek wouldn't cause any issues.

Confronting him on his behavior is draining, not because there is shouting or bickering between you, but because he maintains his calm and refuses to acknowledge anything. He patronizes you and then sidesteps any issue you bring up. He won't admit his wrongdoing or promise to improve, instead suggests that you're blowing things out of proportion. He insists that you should be content with your relationship and the special bond you both share.

Despite his glaring faults, you see glimpses of the troll you love underneath. When you're overwhelmed, Creek is always there to help you calm down and plan your next steps. If someone's intruding on your boundaries, he's present to redirect them without escalating the situation any further. He's not always willing to prioritize someone else's issues over his own desires, but he would try for you at least.

Makes it a point to tell you how much he loves you and how special you are to him every day. It is disgustingly sweet, especially to anyone who may be nearby to witness. Creek lavishes you with pet names, sappy proclamations, and over-the-top public displays of affection, especially whenever Branch is around. He grazes his soft hand along your cheek with a tender declaration of his adoration or brushes his forehead against yours as he greets you first thing in the morning.

It seems that Creek has an infinite supply of affectionate nicknames just for you. These names can either make you blush with delight or annoy you to no end. Although he could simply use your real name, he prefers calling you 'Angel', 'Darling', or 'Sweetheart' as these names more accurately reflect his feelings for you. Your adorable reactions only encourage him to use them more often.

He writes songs and poems about you to express how you make him feel or reminisce about the memories you've made together. He surprises you by performing an emotional ballad at sunset, singing about how your beautiful eyes meeting his makes his heart skip a beat. Though he would never admit it, when he was held captive by Chef, those poems and songs helped him maintain his sanity.

You're both known to the village as a pair of lovebirds, despite Creek's difficult personality traits and your immense patience. It comes as a surprise when one of you announces the end of the relationship, usually accompanied by tears. Creek appears unfazed as he continues to run his meditation/yoga classes and engage in village events. He tells anyone who asks that the break-up was mutual, though you were more emotional than he. It's only partially true, he was more dumbfounded than he'd like to admit. Once you start moving on, he becomes secretly anxious and slinks his way back into your life before someone else can. It's no surprise when you're both back together within a week.

Underneath all the enlightenment chatter, manicured appearance, and insincere behavior, Creek is insecure about his place in the world and his community. He wants to control what others think of him and prove his worth to secure his position. You can constantly assure him with words, actions, and gifts, but until he feels secure in himself, it won't make any difference. To Creek, this isn't a problem; he'll just do whatever it takes to keep you around - morality be damned. He deserves happiness as much as any other troll.

Creek has included you in his yoga classes, claiming that he wants to "maintain your enchanting aura". Depending on the difficulty of the regimen, he either treats you as his top-performing student to praise and use as an example or his problematic student who needs additional attention. Despite the playful banter and flirtation, he maintains a professional demeanor in front of others. However, private classes are an entirely different matter.

Private classes for you and him are usually held at his place, where he has the necessary equipment, or out in the forest where he's previously found a quiet spot. The sessions start with some light banter, stretching, and warm-ups, followed by vocal affirmations, until Creek decides that your form is in desperate need of coaching. He starts with gentle sweeps along your limbs and then to more sensitive areas as he guides you into position. He flirts unabashedly with you, using honeyed words and heated glances to gauge your interest before nudging things further. It's a fun game to see how far you can both go.

Let him put his mouth to work on you, Creek is talented at more than just talking. He's obsessed with teasing you, his nimble fingers soothing your heat with languid motions as he watches you with eager, hungry eyes. Plead with him to give you the release you so desperately need, his tongue is dying to taste you.

Creek takes great pleasure in denying your orgasm, causing you frustration to the point of tears. Seeing those pretty streams down your cheeks as you hold back your sobs while he grinds agonizingly slow into you. You can ask him to speed up, but why should he? The turmoil painting your face is sweeter than he could have imagined.

You'll have to let Creek take control when it's time to play, he gets resistant if you try to imply that you want to take the lead. When he's in charge, it's never in an expected 'dominant' way. Instead, it's about using his words and your body's reactions to break you down into an absolute mess. Doesn't it feel good to shut off everything else and let Creek make you happy?

It takes so long to coax Creek to allow you to be dominant, skinning back layers of excuses and bitter self-reflection. He's hesitant to have you hold the reins and to just let himself relax. He's more afraid of the sentiment he may not be enough, especially if isn't able to do it himself. Like most situations with Creek, it will take a lot of patience and communication to ease his mind - and he'll never truly be at ease.

Once he discovers how relinquishing control feels, he's nearly appalled by how his treacherous body is responding to you. You praise him as you hover above him, murmuring to him about how he's doing "such a good job" and that he's your "good boy" as your hands ghost lower and lower. Creek is aghast that he isn't disgusted by this, telling himself to just flip you over and demonstrate how it's really done. All that guttural and depraved keening surely isn't coming from his mouth. Afterward, he can't deny that loss of control frightens him, but it's just so…erotic too.

This troll is both a grower - and it shows. Those low-waisted yellow sweats do little to 'hide' his sheath and he is well aware.

#bruce trolls x reader #guy diamond trolls x reader #creek trolls x reader #trolls x reader #headcanons #anon

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