#Is Jason a tad feral? Maybe | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spacedace · 1 month

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Got inspired by the below tiktok and the idea of the Rogues killing the Joker in revenge for Jason instead of Bruce and had to write about it.

Here, have probably way too many words (with more to come most likely, this really won't leave me alone) of the Rogue's feelings about Jason's death at the Joker's hands and everything that followed.

(also I know the timeline is a bit screwy, shhh just go with it, we're going on vibes with this one lol)

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham.

The city was hard and cruel and she didn’t care about the ages of those that were ground up and spit out in her oily black heart.

A kid could slit your throat as easy as a man grown in a place like their fine city, maybe easier even for those who still fell for the ideal of children being incapable of anything but innocence and sweetness. Children learned from the world around them though, they learned from the savagery that filled their world, the hard scrabble desperate attempts to survive. They learned what dark corners to avoid, which ones were safer to skitter down.

It didn’t mean there weren’t still some rules of decency to be honored though.

Most folks, even those in the circle of the Rogues, largely left kids out of the equation. Crossfire happened of course, hitting busy city centers always meant some kind of collateral. But there wasn’t much that they got out of purposefully hurting kids outside a black mark on their name in most levels of the grungy underbelly of the city and one hell of a big target on their back. Both from the Bat and those criminals in the dark with them that took offense to those kinds of things. They were crooks, but with few exceptions they weren’t complete monsters.

Robin had always held an interesting place in their grungy little ecosystem. Anything to do with the Bat was generally ruled as gloves-off, do what you do without hesitation. And Robin - both of ‘em - had no problem hitting hard and being ruthless. The first one in particular had a feral sort of rage to him that was a terrifying thing to be on the business end of.

But they were still kids.

Defending yourself from any kid swinging on you was fair game, a person had the right to defend themselves. Grabbing up Robin to hold hostage or bait Gotham’s local cryptid, that was all fine and dandy. You could even get away with roughing the kid up a little here and there, so long as you made sure not to go too far and always kept hits to where the kid’s armor was the thickest. No hard and fast written rules, mind, but general rules of thumbs. Lines indistinct due to the shaky ground a child dancing through the night as a vigilante left all of them on, but ones clear enough that you knew when you were at risk of going too far.

Besides, the Robins were good kids. Fucking feral little shits, of course, able to leave you bleeding just as easy from a kick as they were a sharp word. But good kids. Even most the Rogues in the Gallery liked em. It was hard not to be at least a little fond of a gutsy little punk like that.

Though they were all maybe a tad less nervous around Robin II than they were the original.

Robin I had a lot of anger burning in him, a lot of anger in him, but he was still a cheerful boy with a bright attitude that was refreshing in a world so bleak and dark as the one they all lived in. It was up in the air which was scarier about the kid: The smiled he gave when he was about to give a hands on demonstration about how much force a tiny ten year old could put into a kick when they had half a dozen spins shoved into a flip to wind up to 80 miles an hour, or the flash of his teeth when he was demonstrating the knife sharp brilliance of his belief that Batman was only as frightening as Robin was hopeful.

They weren’t sure if he realized that sometimes they felt a helluva lot more hope at the sight of the Bat when the little bird was putting the hurt on them, or if he’d simply folded that fact neatly into his core philosophy without issue.

Robin II on the other hand had this kind of quiet shyness to him - even as he was shouting the most inventive swears ever heard by human ear at someone while he kicked them in the balls hard enough to make ‘em see not just the face of their own god but a few dozen besides. He was just as unhinged as the Robin before him - seemed to be a requirement for the job really - but there was a distinct different in how the two birds flitted about the darkened skyline of the city. Where the first Robin’s smile was as much danger as it was dazzle, a fanged declaration of victory against the dark, Robin II’s was a sunny, stubborn declaration of perseverance. Kid was sassy and smart, and never - ever - flinched away from extending a hand to those he thought in need of it.

Even if the folks he offered that hand to were in the middle of an attack on some fancy Gala or Wayne Enterprises or whatever target of the week it was. Even knowing the offered hand was likely to be slapped away and followed by a right hook. Kid still always tried.

They all knew why.

The Bat was big on offering chances, on rehabilitation rather than damnation. Some of Robin II being the way he was came from the broody cryptid he followed around. But Batman couldn’t claim to be the sole reason for Robin II being the way he was, couldn’t even pretend to be the cause of most of it. Nah, they knew why the little bird was the way he was.

That unmistakable thick accent. That frame that was always a little too thin even as he got older and stronger. That unshakable, headstrong spirit.

Robin II was an Alley Kid.

A true child of Gotham.

Her polluted waters in his veins. Her smoggy air in his lungs. Her shadows clinging to his edges less like a beast looking to swallow a small bird up and more like a protective mother hiding her hatchling. He understood the world most of them came from. The one they all lived in. Knew it in a way anyone who hadn’t been swallowed up by the dark never really could.

Everyone had their favorite, but even those that claimed the first Robin as theirs couldn’t deny that Robin II was someone to be respected. Nor could they deny a fondness for the chain smoking, classic lit referencing, perpetually baby-faced little shit. They’d all had knock out drag out fights with the kid and knew how fucking unhinged the puny motherfucker could be in a fight, but he always tempered it with offers of resources, of a listening ear, of understanding.

He visited them after they’d been arrested sometimes. In Arkham, or Blackgate or wherever else they’d been locked up in after being stopped by the Dynamic Duo. The little bird would make the rounds whenever he had a broken wing or was stuck waiting as the Bat interrogated someone else or for any other reason he wasn’t out flitting about the city skyline at night. He’d bring cookies or snacks and even cigarettes from his own secret stash on the rare occasion, mask unable to hide the furtive glances around to check for the living shadow that was the disapproving Bat.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. And Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of them from time to time. He was a good kid.

But childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham.

Bad things happened to good kids all the time.

And some of the monsters that lurked in the city’s darkest shadows took the black mark of a kid killer as a point of pride.

Robin II disappeared one day. Just after that piece of shit Garzonas took the fast way down from the top of a tall building. There were a lot of Rogues with doctoral degrees to their names but even those Goons that dropped out of school before they learned to spell their own names could do that math.

The big bad Bat had benched the boy after the fierce little bird had done what any decent member of the criminal underbelly would have. There were those that thought maybe it’d been an accident, that the kid was pulled off duty because of being too upset at unintentionally crossing the heavy line the Bat drew in the sand. Those voices were drowned out pretty quick though.

Sure, Robin II was all about second chances, of doing better, of redemption. But Garzonas had chances to spare and only ever spat in the face of those offering them. Doubled down on being a monster in a way very, very few of the Rogues Gallery would. The kid was a sweetheart, but he wasn’t no push over and there were some things so heinous that there was only one way of handling them. Crime Alley had its own kind of justice system, and when faced with a monster that was beyond even Batman’s jurisdiction, Robin II did what he always did: fell back on his roots.

Or so the rumors said, at least.

That was the thing about Gotham’s seedy underbelly. It was a grimy, wretched nest of vipers and cut-throats, but it was also worse than any beauty parlor when it came to gossip. No one actually knew anything other than that piece of shit motherfucker took a dive while Robin was chasing him and that he’d not been seen on the streets since. But most had a fondness for the kid, and a distaste for the kind of cruelty Garzonas reveled in and there was no proof that Robin hadn’t gone and done the world a favor by drop kicking that barbaric sack of shit off a roof. So as far as most in the Gallery were concerned, the little bird had stepped up and been a hero.

Time passed. Not a lot. But enough. The Bat disappeared too, popping up on an entire other continent in a way that was awfully tempting. Even with other Masks playing baby sitter while the local cryptid was away. Rogues were scrambling to set plans in motion, Goons getting hired en masse, weapons and weird chemicals getting delivered to shady places across Gotham by the truck-full. The criminal underbelly was abuzz with the same excited energy of children the day before a big birthday party.

And then the news came in.

There were people in the dark who made their living finding things out. Knowing things that no one else did or could. Some even specialized, keeping tabs on Batman and Robin better than anyone else in the business were able. And when the information they found wasn’t anything handy to have tucked into a back pocket or a secret they were paid extremely well to keep? They held on to with the same tenacity a sieve clung to water.

Robin II had run off across the globe and ended up in Ethiopia. Something to do with a doctor doing aid work, the same something that had the Bat end up there was the assumption. Kid ran off to handle things himself or was sent on a separate path on purpose for some plan or other the Bat had cooked up on his hunt.

Whatever the reason, the kid crossed paths with the Clown.

Alone.

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham. The city was hard and cruel and she didn’t care about the ages of those that were ground up and spit out in her oily black heart. But Robin II was hers, the child of her heart, an exception to the rule. And besides, most folks - even those in the Rogues Gallery - largely left the purposeful harm of kids out of the equation.

The Joker wasn’t most folks.

And the little bird was a long way away from the protective shadows of his mother city.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. And Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of them from time to time. He was a good kid.

When the news broke, it broke most of them right along with it.

Plans stalled. Schemes ended. Gotham, for an unnervingly quiet stretch of time that neither its civilians or the world at large understood, went still. Crime continued, of course, but the big names weren’t seen. It was only right, by the standards of those that lived their lives in the dark, that they hold off and give the man that fought them all so relentlessly over the past years the time he needed to focus on hunting down the monster that killed his son. He didn’t need the distraction, and they all owed it to Robin II not to interfere while the Bat at last put a final end to the Clown.

And the hellish cryptid would need his full focus on this one. The Joker wasn’t one to take lightly at the best of times, but he’d set himself up neatly in the middle of a nasty bear trap. Ugly and complicated in the way everything with the Clown was. Interference from the CIA, from the UN, from Superman.

Shit went down. People heard about the Bat and the Clown throwing down in a helicopter plummeting from the sky in one hell of a water landing. Big Blue fished Batman out of the drink before he could drown but there’d been no sign of the Joker.

But the Bat would find him.

They all knew the relentless bastard would find him. It was just a matter of time. With the hellish drive of a demon straight from Gotham’s darkest shadows, the Bat would track the grinning, child killing ghoul down and make right the terrible wrong the evil motherfucker had done. Batman would hunt him to the ends of the earth and enact the justice he held up so fiercely. Robin II would have the vengeance the kid so rightly deserved.

It was just a matter of time. So they waited. And waited.

Days.

Weeks.

Months.

The Clown still lived.

The world, impossibly, began to move on. The Bat returned to his lurking in the night, picking off gangs and petty crooks and no-name gangsters as if nothing had happened at all. More vicious, more savage, but failing to turn that rise in brutality into the killing blow against the one figure that so rightly deserved it.

No one knew what was happening. There were rumors and theories, as there always were in the underground. Some thought that it wasn’t the Bat at all back in Gotham but someone else pretending for awhile, looking after his neglected city while he continued his pursuit of the Joker. Other held that it was the Bat but the whole thing was a ploy to draw the Clown out into the open. A pretense at not caring meant to get under the Clown’s skin, make the asshole mad enough to get stupid and sloppy and reveal himself.

That the man simply had given up was beyond comprehension. Beyond what any upstanding Rogue could accept. So it simply couldn’t be true. There was a trick being played. Some brilliant game of 4D chess that none of them had been able to parse out. It’d be revealed in time, and they see the brilliant trap that had been set. The Clown would be lured out, the Bat would put him down for good, and then they’d all at last raise a glass to the little bird that had been shot down far too soon and smoke shitty cigarettes and quote literary masters and mourn the loss one of Gotham’s own true children.

They just had to play along. Stumbling forward back into their usual habits, pretending that it was a choice and not the world just forcibly dragging them along. It’d make sense, eventually. The Bat had a plan. Robin II wasn’t forgotten, his killer not left free to roam and ravage unpunished for what he’d done.

And then one day there was a new bird flitting across the rooftops.

Chasing the Bat’s looming frame like a reverse shadow. Bright flashes of color in contrast to the bleak darkness of Gotham’s grimy nights. Small and thin and young.

Not the first Robin. With his showman bright grin and bloody rage and unwavering belief in the terrifying power of hope. Not the brilliant, vicious little boy that they’d seen grow over the years into the fierce and fearless Nightwing.

Not Robin II either.

Not Gotham’s soft hearted little bruiser with his unshakable belief that people could be better if given the chance, shinning so bright in the dark as he held out a hand that even the Rogues had no choice but to believe right along with him sometimes. Not the tough little songbird they’d never get to see grow up. Unavenged and unhonored. Put in a box and buried in the ground with a name none of them would ever know carved into a stone they’d never be able to visit.

No.

It was a new Robin.

A new child with the R emblazoned upon his chest.

Sharp and quick and young in the way the birds always were when they started flying at the Bat’s side. Every inch of the boy’s tiny frame a tragedy and an insult. One very, very few of Gotham’s vicious underbelly were willing to tolerate.

Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham, but there was a damn big difference between holding something sacred and not giving a damn about it at all. There were rules unspoken but understood, a way things were done. Nothing so solid or concrete as a code of conduct, more a collection of time honored traditions. Blood for blood was among the oldest and truest, and the more precious the person taken the more vital and vicious payment was to be made in kind.

The Clown had killed Robin II.

Beaten the kid half to death and then finished the job with a bomb.

Everyone knew he’d done it laughing all the way.

The Bat should have done the same in kind. Done worse. It was justice, it was what was right. You kill a kid you’re marked forever. You kill one so well liked and kill ‘em like that and you’re destined for a cruel and cold death. The Bat had first dibs. It was his kid. It was his right to put an end to that awful laughter and let his son have peace at last.

But he never did.

Nightwing had. For a bit. For a moment.

Robin I, who half the time had scared them all more than the Bat ever could. Dazzling and dizzying and dangerous. Gave back the pain and hurt the Clown had forced upon him with clenched fists and bone shattering hits. They were glad for him, that he was able to beat the monster who had taken his little brother from him to death, that he was able to have such justice.

And then the Bat stepped in.

Revived the fucking Clown.

A slap in the face. The snapping crack of a spine beneath one straw too many. The final, unforgivable insult the man had dared visit upon not just the child taken from him but the entirety of Gotham.

The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. Respected their ferocity, admired their moxie, marveled at their ability to keep shining in the dark like they did. Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of the city’s dirty criminal underbelly from time to time.

He was a good kid.

He deserved better.

Better than the silence and peace he should be granted in death to be marred by the mad cackles of his killer still running around alive and unpunished. Better than his father giving up, returning to the same old routine as if nothing had happened at all. Better than the Bat snatching up a new bird less than a year later.

Gotham and her Rogues had given the Bat time enough to do what needed to be done.

It was their turn.

#batman #batman au #batman rogues #batman rouges gallery #dc penguin #dick grayson #jason todd #jason todd robin #dick grayson robin #bruce wayne #the joker #tim drake #dc robin #gotham city #open season au #i don't go in for Jason being the 'angry' robin or the 'violent' robin #he was the lil chainsmoking ball of sunshin robin that made sure to do his homework first before going out to fight crime #dick was the scariest robin because he was BOTH incredibly violent & full of rage AND a ball of sunshine & unrelenting hope #Jason was a Gotham kid (an Alley Kid) and I think a lot of the rogues would have respected that #dick got his respect by teaching them how many of their bones a tiny 9 year old could break in a single kick #feel like there's a scene in the extended au in which Tim gets kidnapped but instead of being held for ransom or threatened #it's just the Rogues aggressively mother-henning him and trying to make sure he's alright #Dick gets a call from Harley later that the newest Robin is fine he and Riddler are coming up with deadly traps together #No she doesn't see anything wrong with that - it's just some enrichment activities for them - why do you ask?

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https-maxine-stuff · 10 months

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Chapter. 1

Vampire Empire

𓆩♱𓆪

It's not everyday that vampires try killing you on patrol.

Maybe every now and again but not nearly every night.

What concerned me the most was the way the acted. How feral they were. They never got as close to me as they'd liked, it's almost like it was a goal to get me to be one of them. That's a crazy thought though, it's not like it'll ever happen, besides the Justice League is investigating it. Everything will be fine.

- Lucia. 4/20/XX

⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧

Vampire Empire

⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧

Fear.

I've never quite felt such fear before.

It's scary how the person you love can turn into a bloodsucking monster but here we are.

I remember the smell of blood filling my noise, the metallic smell just purely in the air. My heart dropped, almost instantly.

"Tim..?" I muttered, I know I was late to getting to the warehouse, I knew I was but.. my eyes had widened. It didn't feel real, I turned to see Jason next, his body sprawled out on the floor. A single green arrow buried in his chest.

You may be wondering what even happened. I'll explain from the beginning.

⋆｡‧₊°꧁ ༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻ ꧂‧₊˚.⋆

"You have any idea why Bruce asked to meet?" Barbara's eyes meeting mine as I asked the question.

"Your guess is as good as mine, Luc." She entered the large manor. "But I'm going to sunbathe while we wait." She gave me some finger guns before leaving to the balcony.

The manor always gave off this cold feeling, not always actually, just.. today it gave off that feeling.

"Ms.Parker, I'm preparing tea for everyone, what would you like?" Alfred snuck up behind me, like always. I jumped slightly.

"Oh.. uhm.. Strawberry tea if you have it." I smiled softly.

"Of course, right away. I suggest heading to the sunroom while you await for, Master Bruce."

"Of course, thank you, Alfred." I nodded my head and turned promptly to the sunroom. Same leather chairs and seats in their standard placing.

I just stood there for a moment before taking a seat, I never thought spandex and leather wouldn't feel uncomfortable with each-other but here we are and I'm finding it hard to want to keep sitting. My mask was uncomfortably sticky today but I had to keep that thing on.

Only a few minutes later did the meeting start.

"Weird time for us to meet, isn't it, Bruce?" Dick spoke.

"And weird place to meet. Not that we all couldn't use the Vitamin D." Tim said with a tad bit of sarcasm in his tone. I watched as Alfred poured me some tea. I looked into the cup for a moment and then drank some of it.

"That is all part of it. And Alfred made some tea." Bruce chimed in.

"Yeah and mine is really good." I tipped my teacup slightly with a smile.

"Okay, do I have to be the one to say it?" Damien waited a moment. "Fine, why is the crazy one here?" He pointed to Jason.

"I thought he was the crazy one." Tim mumbled to Alfred.

"I maintain that all of you would be helped a great deal by a therapist." Alfred said. I saw a few of them side eye him when he said this.

"He's not wrong, I've seen Tim have a breakdown over spilled milk.." I replied.

"It was the LAST bit of MILK." He hissed.

"Touched a nerve it seems, sorry."

Bruce stared at us and just ignored it. "I was recently visited by Andrew Bennett. The vampire." He looked at all of the hero's in the room. "He came to the front door over there, looking for Batman."

"How?" Dick asked.

"I believe Lex Luther told him my identity."

"Luthor?! That's—" he was cut off by Bruce again.

"That isn't the part that upsets me."

"Really? Because it upsets me. A lot." He frowned drinking his tea.

"I didn't speak with Andrew. I was away at the time, but he left a note with Alfred." Bruce looked down, the look in his eyes distant. "The contents of the note are why you are all here."

"What was in the note?" I could hear Babs asking Alfred for something stronger but chose to ignore it.

"Well, I attempted to track Mr.Bennett after he left here, he was making great efforts to cover his tracks and I believe he was being followed for at least part of his journey." He looked at all of us this time. "But I know he was headed to Washington, D.C."

"Washington?" Dick mumbled.

"Then his trail went cold and I have found no trace of him since. Likewise, I can't find any trace of Luthor in the past two weeks. No one on earth has seen him."

Damien got a mug of hot chocolate.

"Andrew Bennetts letter claimed that vampires are waging a war on humanity soon."

I never thought I would look at Bruce with such utter confusion and almost.. non-belief.. but considering the shit we've all been through I decided to trust him.. enough.

"Is this a joke?" I muttered.

"He doesn't really do that." Dick whispered into my ear.

"Really? Feels like it."

"I assure I am not joking." Bruce spoke. "Years ago I encountered a man named Niccolai Tepes, The Mad Monk." He looked down. "This was before most of your time."

"Old."

"Lucia, be quiet."

"...sorry."

"Dick, will remember his female counterpart, Dala."

"I bet he will." Jason had a teasing tone as he ruffled Dick's hair slightly.

"Stop." Dick swatted his hand away.

"She was a bloodthirsty vampire who lured innocent people to their deaths at the bidding of her master, Jason."

"I wasn't judging him. Everyone's got their type." He replied, a little defensively.

Bruce just stared for a moment. "The best we can do is make educated guesses on who they'll go after. They'll hunt meta-humans of course." He then looked at me. "I want you to be more careful when you're patrolling Blüdhaven."

"I always am."

"No you aren't, I watched you fall down a fire escape LAST WEEK." Dick chimed in.

"No one asked you, Richard."

"No, no, he's right for telling me."

"Snitch."

"You love me."

"Die." I hissed.

Cassandra just looked at us all before replying to Bruce's statement from earlier. "Which ones?"

"Villains first. They go to ground prolonged stretches between jobs. It'd take us a long time to notice if they were being disappeared." Jason spoke.

"They'd need to take out telepaths and psychics, anyone who could find out their plans." Barbara chimed in.

"Magic users, that's a weakness for them too right? Sure know ones a weakness for me." He turned to me with a dopey smile.

"Oh stop it," I blushed.

Tim gave us the biggest side eye. "They're susceptible to sunlight, right? I'd totally kill people like the ray and doctor light." He paused for a moment. "I mean... if I was one of them."

"We shouldn't be thinking of just who they'd kill. Who would they convert." Bruce spoke up again.

"Young hero's. If I was building an army I'd make it 'NO OLD DUDES ALLOWED'."

"I'm sure you would little man." Jason spoke. "So where does that leave us Bruce?"

"Damien is partially right. They'll need to start making inroads into the hero community, they'll try to infiltrate us.. It's what we'd do." He placed his hand on his chin. "They may already have members in the titans.. the outsiders... The birds of prey.." he looked up. "But getting a member of the Justice League initially would be too difficult." He looked back at Damien. "They'd use the younger hero's to get to the old dudes, as you said."

"So if literally anyone could be be a vampire, why do you trust us?"

"He doesn't." Spoke Barbra once more, she was staring into her teacup.

"Did you poison my cocoa!" Damien threw his cocoa into a plant angrily.

Bruce seemed offended at the accusation. "No, Damien I didn't poison your cocoa. All your drinks were made with holy water, if you were a vampire it would've burned you."

You know when it's a really bad time to make jokes? When your talking about vampires. But Jason couldn't help himself.

"I swear to god I saw Lucia's tongue burning." He pointed at me.

"You know what I saw, Jason?"

"What?"

"You getting your head smashed in by a crowbar again, not by joker this time." I hissed.

"Rude.. I was just joking.." he frowned.

Bruce looked at us and then away again, because lord he hates being interrupted. "Anyways, we're meeting in the sunroom instead of the cave so we can all see the U.V light coming through the windows isn't hurting anyone. Now if you'll all follow me I have something to show you." He motioned for us all to follow him.

Damien got a top of his cocoa.

⋆｡‧₊°꧁ ༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻ ꧂‧₊˚.⋆

We all traveled down the stairs. Jason was speaking. "So you invited us here to spike our drinks?"

"Also I've had Cassandra studying everyone's body language and reactions for anything unusual since you all arrived."

"Anyone acting unusual?"

"Not more than usual."

"Spiked our drinks and spying on us. Anything else?"

"Yes." Bruce slipped his glove off, grabbing a cross. "I need everyone to hold this."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Okay." And one by one everyone held the cross in their hands, and everyone passed.

Everyone looked at Damien. "Everyone needs to stop looking so surprised when I pass the tests." He mumbled.

"Sorry, it's hard to believe it."

"Now we can began," Bruce pulled a curtain down revealing new tools. "These are our new tools."

"These will help us catch vampires?" Spoke Babs.

"Half measures aren't an option anymore, we aren't trying to catch them."

Dick seemed stunned by this. "So you're expecting us to kill now?"

"You can't kill them. They're already dead."

Damien was smiling so evilly. "Cool."

⋆｡‧₊°꧁ ༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻ ꧂‧₊˚.⋆

Would've been cool if half his family wasn't dead on the ground right now.

I fell back my hand covering my mouth, preventing the scream that threatened to exit my lips. I was gasping, I was terrified.

I looked around, the warehouse was destroyed, I felt sick.

"I- I need to call, Dick... and- and Babs- oh fuck where's Alfred and Damien?" My words scrambling out of my mouth as I took my phone out of my pocket, Dicks number the first one I dialed.

"Hello?" He sounded confused as to why I was calling but I started to break down in tears.

"They're dead! Dick.. they're dead!" I cried.

"Who's dead?" He asked softly.

"Tim- Tim and Jason.. the warehouse it was attacked oh god.. there's so much blood and and-"

"Where are you?"

"The- the safe house that Bruce sent us.. earlier.." I was shaking.

"..I'm on my way." He muttered, he hung up without a good-bye. I sat there in silence for a moment before I felt my phone buzzing in my hand, I looked and answered it without hesitation. It was Oliver.

"Oh thank god you are alright, Lucia where are you right now?" He spoke.

"The- the warehouse.. Tim and Jason are-"

"I know. I know." He spoke.

"..what happened?" I asked. "Jason- Jason has your arrow in his chest- ollie.." I whispered.

"Dick.. he's uh a vampire. He killed Bruce, Tim and Jason. Diana and Hal were apart of it. I killed Jason out of his own request.." he mumbled.

My blood ran cold. "What..?" My mind went blank. "He's on his way here now, Oliver.." I'm began to hyperventilating.

"Lucia. Get the fuck out of there, now." His voice held urgency to it. I don't think I've ever moved that fast before.

I bolted out of the warehouse, my legs moving faster than my mind was processing. I made it to empty field, I don't know how long I was running for before I had collapsed into tears and sobs.

I remember squeezing my eyes shut as a warm fuzzy feeling hung in the air around me suddenly. I opened my eyes realizing I had bubbled myself but that too quickly went away.

I could feel my phone vibrating in my pocket, I took it out.

Dickie❤️

📞 ❌

I slipped the phone to my ear, I could hear his heavy breathing.

"Where'd you go?" His voice sounded scared, weepy even.

"..." my mouth was dry, my words stuck in my throat.

"Lucia, where are you?"

"I.."

"Luc?"

"..Dick.. what did you do..?"

#angst #oc story #oc stuff #oc x canon #right person not enough time #soulmates #vampire dick grayson #vampire nightwing #dc vs vampires #dc comics #gore #horror?#no idea #SoundCloud

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jaalismyhusband · 3 years

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Roommates (part 5)

Title: Roommates

Pairings: Bucky x f!reader

Warnings: stalking, language, smut smut smut

Wordcount: 1.8k

Catch up: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Masterlist

Part 5

After the fight, Bucky had his breakfast in silence. Steve tried to talk to him, only to fall on deaf ears. After a half an hour of Bucky not responding to his attempts to make a conversation, he gave up.

Bucky knew he had to act quickly or he would lose the chance to get together with Y/N. And just when things were going so well for them! But no, he had to fuck up monumentally. Although, he wasn’t losing hope, yet. He just had to eliminate competition.

Determined to succeed, he left the kitchen and made his way to Y/N’s room, only to find her already gone. She must have snuck out.

“Two can play this game, doll,” He muttered under his nose and followed her to the café.

He parked his car two streets away, in order not to get recognized. Putting a black baseball cap on his head, he blended with pedestrians. Seven minutes later, he found himself just across the street from the café, with the perfect view through the glass windows. That’s when he spotted Y/N. She was about to finish ordering. Good, he wasn’t too late.

As he was watching them, he tried to figure out, if and how should he intervene. He couldn’t just show up at their table. Hey, uhm, so I have been stalking you for a while and I really don’t appreciate how close you are to my almost girlfriend - there was no way in hell he could come up to them, without compromising himself. He knew he had to stay calm and keep his distance.

However, the sight of Y/N holding hands with Jason had him fuming. In a way, he envied him. Jason had something, or someone, he wanted. And from the looks of it, Bucky won’t get his hands on her in a near future, if he doesn’t do something about it. But now, the only thing he could possibly do, was to continue to watch them. Mostly, they were talking and laughing, whilst holding hands.

After what seemed like unnecessary number of laughs to Bucky, Y/N finally stood up, as well as Jason. Bucky clenched his jaw, when he saw them hug. Although, what really hurt him, was a subtle kiss, that Y/N planted on Jason’s cheek. After they pulled apart, Jason looked lovestruck and Y/N gave him a heart-warming smile, that Bucky adored. The fact that he wasn’t on the receiving end of it, stirred something in him. He couldn’t stand watching them anymore. He got to get away. Looking around him frantically, he felt a rush of what he thought was an anger and fled the scene.

He decided to finally make her his.

Y/N felt good after the talk with Jason. Their closure brought her much needed relief. She was ready to come home, take a bath and munch on some snacks. She totally deserved it. As soon as she got to the Stark Tower, she filled her promises to herself. Warmed up after the bath, dressed in comfortable clothes and armed with a controller, she camped on the couch and took out her frustration shooting hostile aliens in her favourite video game.

There was only one piece missing of her serenity. Bucky. She hadn’t seen him throughout the whole day and was getting progressively worried and tad bit sad. Making peace with the fact that they will only stay friends, she sighed and made way to her bed. She succeeded in distracting herself from the drama, but nonetheless, her thoughts started wandering Bucky’s way anyway. No matter what happened between them, she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

She changed into her pyjamas and got under covers. Laying on her back, she zoned out, whilst looking at the ceiling. Ugh, why can’t I get over him, she huffed. Turning on her side, she fell asleep.

Bucky was miserable. He almost lost Y/N today, for good. He could always kidnap her and keep her with him, but he didn’t want to take such an unnecessary measure. If there was a chance to get her willingly, he would try. That didn’t mean, he wasn’t tempted to do so. As much as he wanted to give her space and time, he wasn’t cool with fucking around and not doing any progress in their relationship. They were stagnating during her whole fling with Jason and just when he thought, they took a step in a right direction, he made them take two back. He basically rushed her to Jason’s arms, again.

“Fuck,” he let out a frustrated sigh. He had to do something, right now.

And so here he was, standing over Y/N’s sleeping form. He learned, that she was a deep sleeper. For many nights, he tried to be as stealthy and quiet as possible, but as the time went on, he found out, that even his mumblings aren’t enough to wake her. So, he talked away the nights spent next to her. He told her about his day, then proceeded onto his dreams and plans for the future – many of them involving her. Oh, how he wished to tell her about those, while she was awake. He couldn’t help, but took her sleeping form in, admiring how her nose scrunched, when she dreamed. Sometimes he stole a cheeky kiss. Other times he tried his luck, touching himself right in front of her. Maybe he wanted to be caught in the act. He dared her to wake up. Although, she never did. But tonight, he was going to stay here long enough for her to wake.

Morning sun invaded her room, landing its rays on her face, stirring her from her slumber. Feeling refreshed, she moved to stretch her rested body, only to be restricted by handcuffs.

“What the hell?” she mumbled to herself, as she tugged on her wrists once more.

“You’re awake. Good.” A deep voice startled her. Bucky.

“What is this? Uncuff me, right now.” She wanted to sound confident, but her demand came out as a pathetic whimper once her eyes met Bucky’s dominant gaze. He was standing in front of her bed only in his underwear. Y/N zoned out, admiring his godly body and her mouth watered at the visible bulge. He was big.

“I think we both know, what will happen.” A cocky grin plastered over his face.

“Yes, you’ll untie me and then I’ll kick your ass.” Y/N said, trying to resist the wetness pooling in her underwear.

“Feisty. I like that.” Bucky smirked as he climbed on her bed. “We’ll see how long you can keep that attitude on for.” And with that, he kissed her. Y/N was in pure shock. She had to remind herself to move her lips and not only gawk at her beautiful best friend, who was finally kissing her.

So, it wasn’t one-sided after all! Or this is another dream. A very cruel dream. But Bucky’s warm calloused hands exploring her body were, for sure, real. They pulled away to catch their breaths, staring each other right in the eyes.

“I’ve wanted to do this ever since I first saw you.” Bucky cooed. Y/N replied by pulling him for another heated kiss. Bucky then descended down to her swan-like neck, marking her for everyone to see, who she belonged to from now on. She moaned desperately, as Bucky started grinding his hips against hers, while simultaneously playing with her nipples.

“Bucky, please, I need you.” She looked at him, with her eyes hooded. Hearing her beg made something in him snap. He lost control, turning feral. Tearing right through her clothes, he moaned at the sight of her bare body.

“My pretty little girl.” His words made Y/N blush.

“Please…” She squirmed under him, impatient for his touch.

“Tell me, what do you want, doll?” He wanted to make their first time slow, to devour her, to make her go crazy by the time he would finally enter her. All that was forgotten after her reply.

“I need you inside me, Bucky,” she said, her voice timid, just above a whisper. Although it was all the consent Bucky needed for wrecking her tight aching hole.

Quickly, he slipped out of his boxers, making his cock sprung free. Y/N gasped at his size, worried look in her eyes as he reassured her, that he’ll go slow.

He reached between her legs, only to find her dripping and needy for his stuffing. He plunged his two metal fingers in, making her gasp at the sudden cold sensation. Coating them in her wetness, he scissored her, while watching her face expression intently.

“Stop teasing me and fuck me already!” She huffed, clearly frustrated with him, while he only laughed and withdrew his fingers. He smeared her juices on his throbbing cock, mixing them with precum, that was leaking from his angry red tip.

Not wasting any more time, he lined himself up with her entrance. They moaned in unison as he slowly split her in half. She cried out at the impossible stretch, but soon accommodated to his girthy length. His hand wandered to her clit as to ease her pain. Soon enough, he started rocking his hips back and forth.

She struggled against the restrains, wanting to touch Bucky. She would scratch his back, rake through his hair and pull on it, make him know, how good he was making her feel.

“Tell me, who this tight pussy belongs to.” Bucky’s growl went straight to Y/N’s core.

“You, o-only you,” she stuttered, as he hit that special spot with a pronounced thrust.

He sped up, whispering filthy things to her. She could only lie there and take it. Her brain was fogged and the only thing she could think of was her nearing orgasm.

“Fuck, I know you’re close. Can feel you squeezing my cock, you little slut.” Bucky exclaimed, making Y/N moan at his dirty talk. He thrusted even deeper, getting her closer and closer with each jerk of his hips.

“Cum all over my cock, babygirl. I know you want to.” He wasn’t wrong. Not long after, Y/N came with almost a pornographic moan, as he kept fucking her through her orgasm. Her pussy throbbed from overstimulation.

“I want you to cum in me, daddy.” She whispered. Bucky lost control after hearing the title he was given and fucked her harder into the mattress. Tears started streaming down her cheeks. The overstimulation. The pain. The pleasure. It was all too much.

Bucky’s thrusts became sloppy as he shot his seed deep into her, pulling another orgasm from her, as well. Her walls tightened, milking every drop of his potent elixir. He threw his head back, as he stilled inside of her, vein on his neck bulging out. A bead of sweat rolled down from his temple, onto his jaw and neck, making way towards his muscled torso and Y/N thought, he never looked hotter.

Still sheathed deep inside of her, his lips met hers in a breathless kiss. After he uncuffed her, they both laid next to each other, basking in the post-orgasmic bliss.

“Why? Not that I’m complaining,” asked Y/N. Bucky pulled her close.

“I needed to claim you for myself.” He flashed her a toothy grin.

“Well, mission successful,” replied Y/N as she cuddled into him.

THE END

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