Red Hood Comes Back And Everything's The Same Except Bruce Doesn't Realise That While Jason's Still Pissed

hey i’m the a/b/o nonnie from the first two posts about your amazing works❤️ and i gotta say again your virgin!omega!Steve and alpha!Bucky ficlet gave me life! and bc you wrote it❤️ it’s probably my fave trope now😉 and if you could do a continuation from that first hot ficlet🥵🥵👌 that would be great!

Hello again! I know this ask is pretty old but it’s been sitting in my drafts and I did want to answer it!

So I’ve mentioned in the past that neither @howdoyousleep3 or I would be writing any continuations of that ‘verse (if we ever decide to, which I don’t think we will) until after we take care of some of our WIPs. However, I have thought about how the rest of that heat might go! (Spoilers: it’s a Trope Bomb just like everything else about this pairing, lol).

It lasts about 3 or 4 days total (shorter than Steve’s usual heats because he’s finally got a partner to sate them), and I think they’re both disappointed when it’s over. 

But man, is it something else while it’s happening. Hormonally speaking, that first time they fuck in ‘Take You With Me’ is obviously really early in Steve’s heat and while it’s definitely wonderful and pleasurable and emotional, I think that it isn’t even half of the feral-brained intensity that comes later...

Steve becomes less and less coherent as his heat reaches its peak. It worries Bucky at first because it’s been a long time since he’s been with an omega in heat and he’s never been with Steve when he’s in heat at all, but his most basic alpha instincts tell him that this is okay and that he already knows how to best take care of Steve. So he does.

Steve is sweaty and wet between his thighs pretty much constantly but there’s nothing Bucky can do about the mess other than carry him into the bath, soak there with him and shampoo his hair and fuck Steve to orgasm underwater with his fingers when Steve’s whines get too needy, whispering into his ear about how perfect he is, how “pretty you’re gonna be with my babies in you, gonna look so sweet.” 

He tries one (1) time to change the sheets but Steve all but growls at him, so he doesn’t do that after all. They writhe and fuck and sleep in their own scents and come for four days because that’s what Steve wants, what makes Steve feel right. It’s perfect.

Sometimes it’s difficult to make sure Steve is getting enough food and hydration but Bucky makes it a priority. He has to bribe Steve sometimes. Steve will wake up from a short nap (he can never sleep for very long before he needs it again) and crawl onto Bucky, try to sit on his cock and ride him and coax another knot out of him but Bucky will have to stop him, keep his hips still and hold his jaw and push their foreheads together and tell him, “yeah, sweetheart, yeah you can have it, know you need it-- but you need to give me somethin’ else too, first, yeah? Will you do that? Will you let me take you into the kitchen and show me how good you are, eat somethin’ for your alpha?” and it takes a good three or four minutes of that kind of sweet talk and sometimes Bucky has to take a cheap shot with “might be eating for two already, right sugar?” but it always ends in Steve ready to please Bucky how ever he can, even if it’s by eating a grilled cheese sandwich.

Bucky knows he’s going to wait until Steve’s next heat to bite him and bond him but it is sweet torture to keep himself from doing that every time his face is pressed into Steve’s neck while he knots him, while he fills him up. He compromises with himself by sucking and biting stark purple marks into the crook of Steve’s neck and shoulder. It makes Steve just as happy as Bucky to see them there, and even though they don’t last long because of the serum Steve is always running back to Bucky a little bit extra distressed whenever he sees them fading in the mirror, and Bucky knows what the problem is every time even though Steve can’t always get words out. He gets Steve on his back on the bed and cages him in with his body and shushes him, coos into his ear, tells him he’s “gonna knot you again, mark you up even better this time, make it darker, bigger, make it so everyone knows what I did to my omega.”

He can tell it’s almost over when Steve starts sleeping longer, his scent starting to mellow out a little. He still wakes up whimpering and wanting it, nosing into Bucky’s armpit and seeking out where his scent is strongest, but he’s not as crazy with need when Bucky starts touching him so that means that Bucky can take things more slowly again. Steve doesn’t really need opening up anymore-- his wet hole easily giving to Bucky’s cock from his heat and from days of getting fucked-- but Bucky savors the opportunity to finger him anyways. On the last day Steve is calm enough that he can focus on the other things he wants and not just a knot, like getting his mouth around Bucky’s cock again. 

Right before they fall asleep the final night of the heat Steve convinces Bucky to come in his mouth. Bucky teaches Steve how to tighten his fist around Bucky’s knot he comes and Steve does a perfect job, but Bucky doesn’t expect it when Steve purposely pulls off halfway through his orgasm to let the jets of white land all over his face and neck, and Bucky fucking howls at the sight of it. 

God himself couldn’t stop Bucky from pinning Steve to the bed afterwards and rubbing his come into every pore of Steve’s flushed skin.

***

(hope you enjoyed!)

Take You With Me on Ao3

masterlist [x]

I was rereading My Ananke and got to chapter 5. Literally all I can think about now is Obi-Wan and Anakin together on the study abroad program and how much TORTURE Obi-Wan would be in. Anyway, I love that fic. Thank you for writing!

🤍 So this is an infographic on my old school’s Rome study abroad program. Let’s investigate and see all of the ways that Obi-Wan would suffer!! I imagine that all of these Problems immediately flashed through his mind as soon as Quinlan made the suggestion.

1. Housing—Possibly be placed in an apartment near Anakin, and run the risk of seeing Anakin glistening and panting coming back from a jog in the morning. Very probably would end up walking to or from the apartments to the Rome center with Anakin, strolling through the Eternal City with a beautiful boy. Unacceptable.

2. Espresso—Guarantee that Anakin will learn Obi-Wan’s routine and preferred places and want to come stand very close to him at the bar and drink his espresso. Anakin might even get a cappuccino and get foam on his face, like the whipped Frappuccino debacle of the previous spring. Unacceptable.

3. Lecture—The Rome center is a converted fifteenth century castle, and the classrooms are filled with beautiful frescos. Anakin reading Greek in a spare classroom with fluorescent lighting is a familiar disaster, but hearing him read Latin instead, giving voice to the Aeneid or some Odes in a beautiful palace. Unacceptable.

4. Lunch—Campo de’ Fiori houses a market during the daytime, well-known for its flowers and fruit and vegetables. It would be like going to the farmer’s market near the university on with Anakin, except worse, because Anakin speaks zero Italian and would look at Obi-Wan hopefully for him to translate for him, and then gratefully when he does. Unacceptable.

5. Walking Tour—See above re: strolling around the Eternal City with a beautiful boy. Would he forced to continually remind himself that the rest of the class is there too and not just speak to Anakin tagging close at his elbow. Anakin would ask him interesting questions, listen to him explain obscure facts, look at things when Obi-Wan pointed things out and make impressed noises. Unacceptable.

AND YET all of these are relatively small, and fine, because nothing compares in terms of suffering with

6. Dinner by candlelight with abundant wine—Obi-Wan would probably try to artfully sit as far away from Anakin as possible, and then for all his efforts end up sitting directly opposite him down the long table, which is absolutely worse than sitting next to him, and he should have realized but he didn’t. He would have to keep his attention on his plate or the people close by, or else get stuck watching Anakin’s cheeks flush pinker, lips stained red with wine, eating good food and laughing, head tipped back, neck long. He’d be able to feel Anakin’s eyes all evening, more and more as the wine flowed. Would make the mistake of eye contact once, get stuck, the rest of the room falling away, and Anakin would be all he could see. Then they better not be stumbling back to their apartment building together after, or else they might get lost in an alley, against a wall, and allllllllll of Obi-Wan’s years of pining and self-control would be for nothing. Unacceptable.

More Visored/Ichigo ramblings because I just love them so much.

Is it trauma, power dynamics, or hollow instincts? The world may never know.

Jk ~ If I'm writing it then it's all three.

⚠️ Visored/Ichigo because that's my jam and I'm partying alone ⚠️

💀💀💀💀

It starts as a joke, mixed in with the stupid shit they send each other. Sending Ichigo messages like remember to eat, moron. Or stg you better get a full 8 hours of sleep tonight or I'll kick your ass.

But Ichigo does a lot better when they remind him to actually take care of himself. As much as he takes care of others, he's terrible at taking care of himself.

They make him eat when he's with them. He'll eat about half before being distracted or say he's full and try to pass it to one of them. They shove it back at him and tell him to eat, not taking their eyes completely off him until he finishes everything. He never gets sick or uncomfortable, so they're not forcing him to overeat. They think he doesn't remember what it's like to feel comfortably full, usually eating just enough that the hunger doesn't hurt.

There's a gnawing hunger that comes with their hollows sometimes, a hunger for things that Ichigo isn't ready for yet. It's not real hunger in the way humans get hungry, but it does make eating hard sometimes.

Ichigo sends them pictures of what he's eating when he's not with them, sometimes making sure to include his unimpressed face, and something about not needing to be reminded about eating like a child.

They disagree.

They also text him to remind him to actually sleep, frowning when they get responses about hollows or doing homework. The low smoldering anger for Shinigami that constantly lives in them now burns a little hotter each time Ichigo shows up with new injuries and bruises under his eyes or when their texts show read at 3am. Especially when they know that there's shinigami assigned to the town who don't seem to do anything.

They get creative. They train him until he's so exhausted he falls asleep after cleaning up, slumped against their shoulders or curled up in their bed. Convincing him to use their bed took awhile, but his hollow desperately wanted a pack and Ichigo didn't fight it too hard. They like that he'll smell like them, even though it's a warning that no one but hollows will be able to sense.

Bed may not be the word to use when it's big enough to fit all of them comfortably and has more pillow and blankets than they can even count anymore.

They all sleep together, something that started from a combination of their hollows prefering it and safety in numbers. Ichigo naps in sheets that smell like them and leaves his own scent behind every time he drags his skin across the sheets. It should be upsetting, the scent of someone who isn't them in their space but it isn't, in fact it's comforting. Especially when he doesn't stay with them. They know Ichigo isn't there with them, which their hollows huff unhappily about, but it smells like he is and it's just enough to settle their instincts.

Ichigo always ends up finding the nearest person when he's asleep. If anyone gets in the bed to rest while he's in there, he always finds his way to their side and presses in as close as he can. It's a big bed, it has to be to comfortably fit all of them even though they usually end up piled on top of each other and tangled up.

If he falls asleep sitting next to someone, his head will find their shoulder or he'll slump down until his head is on their lap. He sleeps better with skin contact, the ever present frown on his face fading when he's made skin contact.

He's bad about letting them know if he's hurt, his mindset seems to be if he can still move, or as long as he's not actively bleeding, then he's fine. Bruises are the worst, big ugly ones that they won't know about unless Ichigo wears something that shows it, it gets exposed during a spar, or he moves stiffly and can't hold back a wince.

That also means he has the bruises they give him from sparring longer, and they never claimed to be good and proper okay? Ichigo wearing marks they gave him is appealing. They'd rather give him other marks to warn people off, and they want to say that they didn't know they'd end up wanting this but Ichigo was always going to be theirs.

Someday they'll be able to make sure he's constantly covered in their scent and they can bite and suck all the marks they want onto his skin. They'll be able to keep him in their bed every night and smell him when they first wake up. They'll be able to check him for wounds or bruises he thinks aren't bad enough to mention and remind him that just because he can tolerate the pain doesn't mean he should have to.

He starts to keep some spare clothes with them but they take every excuse they can to have him wear something of theirs. On one memorable occasion he even wore a pair of Lisa's leggings, blushing and mumbling that he was cold and they felt soft. Lisa rushed to tell him he could wear them whenever he wanted, eyes flicking down to where the dark material clung to his legs. It's a soft, thin material and borderline see through in some spots where the material stretched over muscle, like his hips and thighs.

At some point Ichigo seems to catch on, and they're all able to stop pretending they're just interested in friendship.

Ichigo does his own clumsy scenting, not quite right but it's clear what he's trying to do and they don't correct him. The furrow of his brow says he's going to figure it out eventually.

He rubs their cheeks together when he's tired or hurt, or when he knows they're upset or hurt, not quite scenting but it's adorable, and his hollow is trying very hard to figure out what feels right.

He doesn't hesitate to nudge food over to them if he thinks they aren't eating enough. If they get distracted training or doing something else, he brings them food and hovers until he's able to make them sit down and eat.

They can't resist holding out bites to him occasionally and grinning at the faint blush before he takes it.

He spends a lot more time in their bed. And the kid is a fucking tease once he gets going because the amount of reasons he find to strip before rubbing his scent all over their bed is unreal. So much bare skin means his scent sinks into everything and stays, everytime they roll over or land on the mattress a burst of Ichgo greets them.

Knowing he's barely clothed, or wearing theirs, and vulnerable in their bed is incredibly distracting. He's sleep warm skin and pliant limbs, little protesting noises leaving him when they pile around or on him.

Hiyori is the first one to leave a mark, the urge to bitebitebite becoming overwhelming and she's behind Ichigo, wrapping her arms around him to keep him still and biting down on the curve of his shoulder and neck. He doesn't react, just keeps talking like he doesn't have someone clinging to his back and chewing a dark bruise onto his shoulder.

It's fair game after that and he's always got marks on his throat and shoulders, the delicate inside of his wrists and inner thighs, and the soft skin of hips and lower belly.

He leaves his own marks on them, not near as dark or deep as theirs, and it fades quicker. He bites at them with dull human teeth instead of the sharp hollow teeth he needs to make a lasting mark, another thing he's still getting the hang of.

💀💀💀💀

Do I like to think that they would all text each memes and stupid shit? Yes.

Didn't get Kisuke added in this one but I like to think he's always involved too ~

Okay, so beta!Steve weirdly enough starts lactating after the serum, but the serum turns him into an Omega, and Alpha! Bucky helps through his first heat in the war. And then helps Steve again after he gets out of cryo and his memories are restored. Luckily Bucky remembers his huge kink for tying up Steve and abusing his tits. (I have a weird lactation kink for Steve, shame on me...)

But what if Steve and everyone around him just always assumed he was a Beta, when in fact he was just too sickly to present properly.

And being around Bucky for the first time, being able to properly appreciate those Alpha pheromones – it sends him into his first heat. 

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Frank Castle x Steve Rogers - regret (ao3)

"Frank," Steve whispers, afraid to say any more for fear of breaking the moment- whatever it was.

"Yeah, baby," Frank responds, his voice low and husky, the way it always got when he had Steve naked and mewling in his bed.

One of Frank's hands reaches up to caress Steve's neck, pulling back the neckline of his sweater further, stretching the material until it exposes the expanse of pale skin that Frank used to know so well. He presses his thumb to a dark, purple bruise there, making Steve whimper.

"He do this to you? Hm?"

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64061896#main

funniest 'Jason Todd comes back as red hood and starts talking to the bats without telling that he is, in fact, Jason Todd' trope is where Red Hood starts becoming minorly friendly with the bats and lets slip that Jason Todd is indeed still alive, but not that he is him.

now this can result in multiple outcomes, however i think the funniest possible version is the version where while Dick is bemoaning about the loss of his little brother and how great Jason is and how he wants to talk to him again, and without a second of hesitation Red Hood just nods his head and goes 'oh yeah, hottest robin by far, too. sexy as shit, that guy is.'

this results in the entire bat family fully believing that Jason Todd was somehow revived and taken to the LOA where he met and fell in love with this murderous assassin known as Red Hood, and the two are currently in a relationship.

Jason, petty and pissed at his family, decides: holy shit that's funny. and he goes along with it, meaning there are multiple occasions where we get interactions such as

Batman, brooding on a rooftop: the second Robin... he has always had such a big heart.

Red Hood, cartwheeling in the background: big dick too, godDAMN

Batman: i am begging you to stop.

---

Nightwing: you're DATING my little brother? AND YOU WONT LET US TALK TO HIM?

Red Hood, full of shit: he's too busy visiting venues for our wedding next autumn. and before you ask, no, you're not invited.

Nightwing:

Batman: you mean to tell me, you're marrying my son, and you won't allow us to be at the wedding?

Red Hood: Jason's decision.

Batman:

Red Hood: Green Arrow's walking him down the isle

Batman: ok thats it-

---

Red Robin: so is your fiance happy about all this crime lord murder stuff?!

Red Hood: my future trophy husband understands that if he's going to be able to sit and look pretty for me, then I need to bring home some serious cash, now stop interrupting my work.

Red Robin:

Red Hood:

Red Hood: for real tho, Jason's so hot-

Red Robin: STOP IT

bonus scene:

Dick: Damian, did you know about this?

Damian, hasn't been paying attention: know about what?

Dick: Jason's engaged to Red Hood!

Damian:

Damian, knows full well Jason is full of shit because he grew up with the guy in the league:

Damian: hes what now

Jason in the background: *violently gesturing death threats*

Damian:

Damian: yes. i'll be travelling home in the fall to be the flower boy. I believe Todd has already picked out my suit.

Dick:

that christmas, Bruce Wayne receives a card with an obviously photoshopped Red Hood that's got his arm around Jason's shoulders, who also has a photoshopped wedding dress on. Damian is stood in front of them, a 'just married' banner in his hands, looking very much like he was paid to be there.

Dick never forgives Jason for making him think that Alfred was invited to the wedding and he wasn't.

Jason had started to notice that Bruce's gaze lingered sometimes—just a second too long. At first, he brushed it off as coincidence, that it held no deeper meaning. It wasn’t abnormal to sometimes stare while your mind was drifting off. But the glances kept happening. It had been quite late at night in the Batcave, and they were the last ones there, running through some data side by side, keeping it surprisingly civil. As they talked, Jason noticed Bruce’s eyes drift—not to the screen, but to him. Bruce’s gaze slid from Jason’s eyes, over the line of his jaw, to the curve of his lips, then back to the monitor. And once Jason noticed, it was impossible to ignore. It wasn’t just the glances; whenever Jason stood a little too close, Bruce would tense. It was barely noticeable, but easy to catch with a perceptive eye. Intrigued, Jason began testing the boundaries, seeing how far he could push before Bruce would finally tell him to stop. It started innocently enough. Just a casual touch here and there, or leaning in a bit closer than necessary. Each time, Bruce would tense, his eyes lingering before something like frustration would cross his normally stoic face. But Bruce would never acknowledge it—he never said a word. Jason was finding it harder to resist pushing even further, wondering just how much Bruce would allow.

・・・・・

Bruce sat by the edge of the couch, arm leaning against the armrest, newspaper in hand. The lamps were off and the only source of light came from the warmth of the fireplace. Its flames casted shadows across the room, occasionally making a comforting cracking sound.

Jason stood at the doorway, watching the way Bruce's eyes would scan over the articles, pretending to read, like he wasn’t drowning in his own thoughts as usual.

Without announcing himself, Jason sauntered into the room, making his way toward the couch. He could feel the warmth from the fireplace brush against his skin as he passed it, his long shadow making Bruce glance up from the paper.

He didn’t say a word as he flopped down onto the sofa, sprawling out lazily. He stretched his legs out, brushing against Bruce’s thigh as he shifted to get comfortable. Jason felt Bruce stiffen, informing him that he had the older man’s attention. He carelessly reached for a book on the coffee table, his arm extending as his shirt pulled up with the motion, exposing a sliver of his midriff.

Jason retracted back into the couch, book in hand, leaning comfortably against the cushions. His shirt was still ridden up, and when his eyes flicked sideways, he noticed how Bruce’s gaze was locked on his exposed skin. Jason didn’t move to adjust it, he simply flipped open the book as if he hadn’t noticed and it was all an accident.

Bruce shifted, just slightly, the paper crinkling in his hands. Jason sprawled out further, one arm resting sluggishly against the back of the couch, his legs extending along the length of the couch. His calf brushed against Bruce’s knee this time. Bruce lifted the newspaper, blocking Jason from view, but it didn’t stop Jason from feeling the way his body stiffened again.

He wasn’t interested in the book at all, his eyes just glossing over the words. With a casual sigh, he let his head roll back against the armrest, his shirt riding up even higher. The fabric of his t-shirt barely covered his stomach now, exposing the sharp lines of his lower abdomen to the warm light of the fire.

The sound of Jason’s exaggerated sigh seemed to catch Bruce’s attention, the newspaper lowering just a fraction. Jason angled his head slightly, peering under the book in his hand, and his eyes locked with Bruce’s. Neither of them said a word. Jason watched as the shadows danced across Bruce’s face and his furrowed brow.

He saw Bruce’s eyes briefly flick down toward his exposed skin again, the muscles in his jaw slightly tightening, barely visible. Jason let his attention drift back to the book, but the sentences were nothing but an uninteresting blur in the background.

He glanced over to Bruce again, catching him staring.

Bruce snapped the newspaper shut with a sharp crackle, then stood abruptly. His movements seemed stiff, off. “I… need to check something in the cave,” he muttered, his excuse half-hearted and weak, like even he wasn’t convinced by it.

He didn’t look at Jason as he turned on his heel, leaving the room with quick steps. Jason let out an amused breath, his lips curving into a full smirk as he watched Bruce leave. He could still feel the tension lingering in the room.

・・・・・

Jason stood in the training room, muscles tense and ready, waiting for Bruce.

Bruce entered, focused as ever. He offered no small talk, not even a greeting. He went straight to business.

“Ready?” he asked.

Jason smirked, giving him a lazy nod. “Always.”

They soon fell into the familiar rhythm of their sparring. They had done this countless times before. But after a while, Jason’s tactic shifted. He began moving closer than he needed, dragging his body just a bit too intimately against Bruce’s with every dodge and strike.

Each time their bodies connected, Jason made sure Bruce felt every inch of skin, every press of muscle. It was subtle at first, like there was a reasonable explanation behind it.

Jason threw a punch, aiming for Bruce’s side. But he quickly caught his arm with fingers tightening around Jason’s wrist. The impact made them step closer, their chests nearly touching. Jason glanced upward, looking at Bruce through his dark lashes, his breath brushing against Bruce’s jaw.

Bruce froze. His gaze dropped, landing on Jason’s lips for just the briefest of moments, and the air between them felt electric. But then suddenly, Bruce let go, stepping back. The movements were a little too sharp, like he was trying to create distance both physically and from his own thoughts. But the tension still lingered, thick like smoke.

Jason wasn’t going to give him that space, though.

Bruce looked almost rattled, clearly still unfocused. So, without warning, Jason surged forward. Bruce blocked his attack, but Jason didn’t stop. He pressed harder, his strikes swift, strong, determined. He ducked under Bruce’s counterattack, slipping past him, and then sweeping his legs out from under him.

Bruce’s back hit the mat with a solid thud, but Jason wasn’t going to give him a chance to recover. In an instant, he straddled Bruce, knees planted firmly on either side of his hips, pinning him down to the ground.

Jason leaned in, his face inches from Bruce’s, their heavy breaths mingling. “Seems like I got you this time,” he murmured with a teasing smirk playing at the edges of his lips.

Bruce said nothing, just stared up at him, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

Jason shifted slightly in his lap, and he could feel Bruce stiffen underneath his weight. There was something darker flickering across his eyes, something Jason wanted to investigate further. He shifted again, pressing down more firmly, his body aligning perfectly against Bruce’s.

He could see Bruce grinding his teeth together. And then his hands moved, gripping Jason’s thighs, fingers digging into him. In one swift motion, he shoved Jason off, rolling them over until he was standing.

“Stop playing around,” he muttered, sounding rougher than usual.

Jason chuckled at that as he sprawled out on the mat, unbothered. “Is that what we’re doing?”

Bruce didn’t reply, but Jason got up to his feet again and they began sparring. Punches were thrown and blocked in quick succession, but Jason wasn’t playing fair. He continued to push closer whenever he had a chance and each time, without fail, Bruce would be thrown off by it. It was almost unnoticeable, but Jason knew him well enough.

As they moved, the fight grew more intense and suddenly Jason found himself being spun around, slammed chest-first into the wall. Bruce’s body pressed against him from behind, one hand firmly between his shoulder blades, and the other wrapped around Jason’s wrist, holding it above his head.

Bruce had him pinned and Jason didn’t resist. He glanced over his shoulder, the smirk back on his lips. Bruce’s grip was firm, his body flush against Jason’s, trapping him completely.

Jason leaned back into the warm, steady body behind him. “Getting a little rough, aren’t we?” he teased.

For a brief second, Bruce’s grip on Jason’s wrist tightened as he seemed to tense. His breath hitched, almost imperceptibly, but Jason had noticed it, felt it. But just as fast, Bruce’s hands released him.

He stepped back, his face was unreadable and his movements seemed a bit stiff.

“We’re done,” he muttered, turning his back and walking toward the exit.

Jason’s smirk lingered as he watched Bruce leave and pretend like everything was still normal.

・・・・・

Jason pulled off his gloves and threw them onto the bench with a heavy sigh. It had been a long night, one that had left everyone involved worn out. His body was still buzzing with the aftermath of the adrenaline. Bruce was a few feet away, unbuckling his utility belt in silence, face as expressionless as ever.

Jason peeled off the top of his suit, letting the armored material fall to the floor. He removed the shirt afterwards, tossing it next to the gloves. His muscles were slightly aching after tiresome fighting, the sweat on his upper body glistening slightly in the harsh light of the cave.

Jason bent down to remove his boots. The subtle scent of sweat and leather filled the air, mixing with the slight metallic tang of blood from earlier wounds, and Bruce’s expensive cologne.

Jason glanced over, catching Bruce’s gaze lingering on him for just a moment too long before he quickly averted his eyes, focusing on removing the rest of his gear. There was a tension in Bruce’s shoulders, and he was doing that thing again where he pretended everything was normal, and Jason’s behavior was nothing out of the ordinary.

“You still owe for that back there, you know,” he said playfully, mostly to fill the silence.

Bruce grunted in response, a noncommittal sound that did nothing to contribute to the conversation. He seemed focused on his own suit, but his movements had slowed down.

Jason saw his opening. He moved closer, his fingers reaching for the clasps of Bruce’s suit before he began working them free.

Bruce froze, his head snapping up to look at Jason, eyes narrowing. “What are you doing?”

Jason didn’t flinch, didn’t stop. His lips twitched into a smirk as he worked the last clasp free. “What does it look like? I’m helping you out.”

He gripped Bruce’s gauntlets and tugged them off, letting them fall to the floor with a low thud. Jason reached for Bruce’s cape next. His arms slid around Bruce’s neck, fingers easily working the fastener that held it in place. Jason leaned in close, his bare chest brushing against Bruce’s hand and lower arm.

The shift in his posture was obvious; his body was taut and he turned his head away from Jason. But he was still rooted to the ground, eyes fixed on the wall as if he was determined not to acknowledge how close Jason was, how their skin was touching.

The cape came off, pooling below Bruce’s feet.

“I’ve got it from here,” he muttered and turned abruptly to leave, like he always did.

Jason had grown quite fond of the game they were playing.

・・・・・

The Batfamily had gathered around the long table in the cave, discussing the night’s mission in detail. Jason had agreed to assist them, now sitting at the far end by the table. Tim and Dick were currently talking over each other, and Jason wasn’t really listening to them.

Bruce was standing next to him, at the head of the table, telling them to quiet down and barking orders as usual.

Jason leaned further back into the chair as his legs stretched out under the table. His elbow rested on the table, with his thumb supporting his chin and the middle and index fingers pressed gently against his lips and nose, seemingly uninterested in the meeting.

His attention lay elsewhere.

Slowly, carefully, he let his leg brush against Bruce. The touch left no room to question whether or not it had been an accident. He let it linger. And Bruce stilled for the slightest second, a flicker of awareness passing over his handsome features before he quickly regained his composure.

But Jason wasn’t done.

Bruce was in the middle of giving instructions to Tim when Jason shifted again, this time allowing his knee to press against Bruce’s leg.

Bruce’s voice faltered for just a moment, the flow of his words slightly halting. But he refused to acknowledge it, kept his eyes ahead. He quickly cleared his throat, trying to continue. “Tim, I need you to—”

Jason shifted his knee again, rubbing it deliberately against Bruce’s upper leg. He felt him tense immediately, stumbling on the words. “To—uh… to monitor the surveillance—footage…”

Jason smirked, partially hidden behind his hand. “You okay there, Bruce?”

He received no answer to that, instead, Bruce pressed on with whatever he was talking about. “…and cross-check it with the logs Oracle has provided.”

The others nodded along, caught up in the debriefing. Bruce sat down on the chair behind him, probably thinking it would help him regain control of the situation. That was a big mistake. Because his reaction only fuelled Jason’s confidence, only spurred him on to push further, and explore where the boundaries lay. To see when Bruce would finally acknowledge him, to stop pretending nothing was going on.

Jason shifted a little, letting his fingers lightly brush against Bruce’s thigh. He felt Bruce tense immediately at the touch and heard the slight hitch in his breath. But still, he did nothing, didn’t even look at Jason. He kept his concentration on the others, jaw tight, eyes narrowing just a fraction.

His fingers continued to trace a subtle, slow line along Bruce’s thigh. Barbara was talking in the background, agreeing with whatever Dick had been saying, and Bruce nodded along, clearly trying his best to stay focused.

He let his hand slowly slide higher, and that’s when he felt it—the unmistakable hardness under the fabric of Bruce’s pants. Jason sucked in a breath by the surprise. He couldn’t deny the thrill, the way his heart picked up its pace. And Bruce could pretend all he wanted, but the proof was right there. He found this just as thrilling as Jason did.

Jason’s hand inched just a bit closer, fingers brushing over the bulge. Bruce’s entire body stiffened, the tension in his shoulders so taut it could snap at any given moment.

And then suddenly, Bruce’s hand shot under the table, grabbing Jason’s wrist, gripping it tight enough to hurt. Jason glanced up at him, watching the way Bruce tried so hard to keep his composure and focus on Tim’s yapping in the background. Bruce didn’t meet his eyes, his jaw clenched as his fingers tightened around Jason’s wrist, preventing him from moving any further.

Bruce didn’t say anything, instead, he just squeezed his wrist harder as a silent warning. Jason’s eyes gleamed with amusement as he leaned back slightly, letting his hand fall away. Bruce still refused to look at him.

The rest of the group continued to plan the mission, but Jason’s thoughts were far away, wondering how long Bruce could go on without acknowledging whatever this thing was between them. 

・・・・・

The mission hadn’t gone according to plan at all, in fact, it had gone sideways fairly quickly. It left the Batfamily stranded in one of their backup safehouses. The place was cramped with barely functional amenities. They had crashed in whatever space they could find.

Jason had ended up sharing a small bed with Dick, but every time he started to drift off, Dick would roll over, nudging Jason further and further toward the edge of the bed. He was tired and sore, and after a while, his patience wore thin.

With a frustrated sigh, he got up and left the room to find somewhere else to sleep. But every corner he checked was already taken, filled with the sound of quiet breathing or snoring. The wood boards under his feet creaked wearily as he made his way down the dark hallway. He stopped outside of Bruce’s door. Of course he had his own room.

“Screw it,” he muttered under his breath, pushing the door open.

Moonlight slanted through the moth-eaten blinds, casting a faint glow across the room. Bruce was lying on his back with his eyes closed, breathing evenly. Jason padded over to the bed and without overthinking it, he carefully lay down on the other side. The bed shifted slightly under his weight, and Bruce’s breathing changed just enough to show he was awake too.

They lay in silence, staring up at the dark ceiling. Even after a long mission, Bruce still managed to smell good.

Jason was too exhausted to pick up his usual teasing, even if now would have been the perfect moment. And somehow, the air felt different. Maybe it was the rawness of his body after the mission, or the quiet of this isolated safehouse—it felt like they were somewhere completely else, almost like in a dream.

After a long stretch of silence, Jason turned his head, just slightly, to check if Bruce had fallen asleep. But Bruce was already looking at him, the faint glimmer of moonlight catching in his blue eyes. His expression was unreadable, and the atmosphere between them felt thick in a way it never had before.

For the first time since this whole thing began, Jason didn’t dare to push it any further. Bruce didn’t look away, he held Jason’s gaze. The way Bruce looked at him made his heartbeat quicken and suddenly, he didn’t feel as bold anymore. His confidence wavered under Bruce’s steady, dark eyes. There was something so calm about it, yet intense enough to make him feel bare, exposed.

For a few long, quiet moments, neither of them moved, their breaths almost in sync at this point.

But then suddenly, in one slow, careful movement, Bruce leaned in. His body shifted slightly closer, closing the small gap between them. Jason’s breath caught, his pulse drumming in his ears, and he found himself frozen in place. He’d been teasing, pushing—even fantasizing about this—but he’d never truly expected Bruce to actually do something about it. Now, with him leaning closer, his presence invading Jason’s senses—it felt surreal.

The faint warmth of Bruce’s exhale ghosted over his skin, making his skin tingle, his pulse racing. Then Bruce’s lips brushed against his, softly at first—almost like testing the waters. Yet it was enough to send a sudden jolt of electricity through Jason’s nerves. It was only when Bruce leaned in a fraction closer, lips pressing more firmly against his, that Jason felt his mind start to unravel, his nerves catching fire.

But soon Bruce deepened the kiss with a quiet confidence, like this was nothing but another skill he’d mastered. It was like Bruce knew exactly how to kiss him, drawing sensations out of Jason he hadn’t even known he could feel, making his mind go entirely blank. He’d kissed before, sure, but nothing had ever left him this breathless, this affected.

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that, kissing lazily as if nothing else existed outside of this room, but eventually, they drew apart. Neither of them said a word. Bruce lay back down, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Jason mirrored the movement, feeling slightly dazed and more relaxed than before, finally able to drift into sleep.

When he woke, though, Bruce was already gone. Jason wasn’t surprised. He got up and stepped into the hallway, hearing soft voices drifting from the kitchen. As he made his way toward them, he saw some of the members awake, talking over coffee. Bruce was standing by the window, already dressed, hands in his pockets, his expression as unreadable as ever.

Bruce looked up when Jason entered, their eyes meeting for a split second. There was no hint of acknowledgement from last night in his gaze. He simply greeted him with nothing more than a curt nod.

Jason felt a flicker of something unwanted—disappointment, frustration—but he buried it deep, slipping into a mask of indifference. He joined the others, leaning against the counter, forcing himself not to glance in Bruce’s direction.

Jason found himself wondering how, in a game he’d thought he controlled, Bruce had so quietly taken over, leaving him feeling unsure and strangely exposed.

・・・・・

i've been occasionally writing this when i wanted to write more FUN and not so serious scenes! fyi i'll probably take a break from writing since dragon age veilguard is released tomorrow! but let me know if you'd like me to continue this, and i might need to pause dragon age lmao. (literally all it takes is for one person to say pls do this 🥺 and i'll drop everything for you cause i love validation and people telling me what to do (jk) (or am i?))

Hello. Your Koyonagi/Ichigo story is really amazing. Thank you for writing such wonderful stories. I really adore your characters. Although I wonder how Koyonagi would react about Ichigo's past when Ichigo finally told him about it. And will Koyonagi be jealous of Ichigo to anybody with whom Ichigo was close in his time, for example Kisuke? It would be interesting to see.

Thank you! I’m glad you’ve enjoyed reading my fics =D I would imagine Koyonagi’s definitely the possessive type. He’d probably take the whole time travel thing more or less in stride pretty quickly, but maybe sometimes, Ichigo points people out to him, talks about them fondly, wistfully, knowing he’ll never get them back. 

Thank you! I’m glad you’ve enjoyed reading my fics =D I would imagine Koyonagi’s definitely the possessive type. He’d probably take the whole time travel thing more or less in stride pretty quickly, but maybe sometimes, Ichigo points people out to him, talks about them fondly, wistfully, knowing he’ll never get them back. And Koyonagi doesn’t mind, he likes that Ichigo trusts him enough to speak of his past and his secrets. But then one day Ichigo says something in passing when they bump into some of the captains at a bar, maybe Kisuke is pretending to be way more drunk than he actually is in a corner and Ichigo takes one look at him and rolls his eyes and tells Koyonagi, “He’s not even a little bit drunk. I thought I was taking advantage of him when he dragged me to bed after celebrating one of the battles we won, but apparently he just uses that as a front to gather blackmail.” He snorts. “Also he has a surprising amount of poetry memorized. He recited like three of them to me just to prove I could sleep with him guilt-free.”

And okay, Koyonagi already knew Ichigo wasn’t a virgin, but also he’s self-aware enough that he can look at Urahara Kisuke and acknowledge that there’s more than a few similarities between them. Knowing Ichigo’s slept with him - even if it was a different future Urahara - sinks heat and claws beneath his ribcage, and the next time he bumps into the Twelfth Division captain, he can’t help cataloging all the potential weaknesses he can see while a voice in his head hisses that it would be easy to make the man disappear. Urahara seems to sense his animosity immediately, and his head doesn’t snap around, but he does stiffen, and when he casually turns and meets Koyonagi’s gaze across the courtyard of the Shiba estate, the silly fool facade he usually wears has almost completely dropped off his face, leaving behind flat grey eyes and a killer’s detached mien. It’s like looking into a mirror, and Koyonagi has to reflect with some amusement that Ichigo certainly has interesting tastes in men.

But then Ichigo is there, always so much more perceptive than people think he is or even remember he is, and he takes one look at both of them, rolls his eyes, pats Urahara on the shoulder with something like apology, then saunters right over to Koyonagi, and in the most public display of mine that Koyonagi has ever been on the receiving end of, Ichigo crowds him up against the tree behind him and pulls him into an aggressively filthy and wildly inappropriate kiss. By the time he pulls back, Koyonagi is half-hard and has completely forgotten Urahara as he blinks rapidly at a smirking Ichigo. Kaien is wailing something about eyes and bleach in the background but all Koyonagi pays attention to is Ichigo leaning into him and grumbling, “I’m with you, you idiot. As if anyone before can compare.”

After that, Koyonagi still gets jealous sometimes, but as reminders go, Ichigo’s are very effective.

Nicholas J Fury spent one weekend in the 90s hanging out with a cool lesbian and then spent the next twenty years trying and failing to find another superhero with her general degree of competence or emotional maturity