𝒱𝒾𝓇𝒹𝒾𝒶𝓃

You, his neighbor, who's two houses down with a clearly marked mailbox.

Or...he used to have beef with the mailman, until he knocked on your door one day instead of leaving the mail on your porch. The prettiest damn thing he's ever seen. Warm in your pajamas, clearly only having woke up a bit ago.

You blinked so sweet at him before asking "uhm? Can I help you, sir?"

Gaz spent...far too long fantasizing about you. About that lovely smile, how soft and gentle you are in every movement. Sometimes he'll spot you watering your garden and somehow you make those grass stained overalls look adorable.

The next time he incorrectly receives your mail, his entire face burns hotter than fire.

He opts to leave it on the porch this time.

Meanwhile, you have the mortifying experience of opening your door wondering where that handsome neighbor is only to find your bad dragon order was not shipped with discreet packaging.

The next time gaz sees you, he can hardly get a word out. Mind conjuring up images of that giant, knotted monster toy and trying to compare it to the sweet thing that moves worms off the pavement.

Damian: Grayson, why does Pennyworth leave food on the counter every night?

Dick, on his phone, not even paying attention: Oh, that's for Jason.

Damian: For 'Jason'?

Dick: Yeah. Sometimes he sneaks into the kitchen at night, so Alfred started leaving food out for him.

Damian, confused: I've never seen anyone here.

Dick: Well he doesn't always come. And last time, Bruce caught him crawling through the window and scared him away so, who knows when he'll show up again.

Damian, definitely thinking of a raccoon: So then Pennyworth is feeding a random stray that crawled out of God knows where?

Dick, annoyed: He's not a 'random stray', Damian, he's family, and he has been living in this house for way longer than you have.

Damian, trying to remember how long do raccoons live for:

Damian: I hope he doesn't die soon.

Dick: ????!!

*Later that night in the Bat-cave*

Tim, typing away in the computer:

Damian: Drake. Have you ever met Jason?

Tim: Uh. Stupid, annoying and looks like a skunk? Yes, why?

Damian, picturing a mix between a racoon and a skunk:

Damian: Is he friendly?

Tim: Well, the first time I met him, he attacked me, so...

Damian: Hmm... What did you do to provoke him?

Tim: What did I do to– Bitch–

Tim: Nothing! He just didn't like me taking 'what was his', or something.

Damian, nodding: You invaded his territory.

*The next day*

Damian: Father, when do you think Jason will visit again? I want to meet him.

Bruce: Um. I don't know, Damian. He doesn't come here often.

Damian: Why?

Bruce: Because he lives somewhere else.

Damian: Why doesn't he just live here with us instead? He would be safer.

Bruce, wincing: I don't think he would like that, Damian. He's not confortable here.

Damian: But, maybe if I befriend him I could convince him to stay.

Bruce, sighing: I don't think so, Damian. You have to respect his space.

Damian: Oh...

Damian: I hope he doesn't get rabies

He knows what he's like, has seen the carnage he can cause. Soap, more than anything, wants to keep you safe.

Which is why he internally panics when you visit him so close to the full moon. Technically it should be fine, but his ma taught him to never rely on things to go well. He's never been around a mate so close to the moon, and it has his inner wolf acting out in a qay it never has before.

Two days. Two whole days before the full moon and soap is locking himself in the bathroom and begging you to leave.

You don't. Instead, you unlock the door and get the wind knocked out of you when a giant wolf slams you into the floor.

It snarls, drool stringing between its teeth, dripping onto your skin. Then, its nose twitches, and soap is leaning down to sniff at your neck. The change is so sudden it nearly gives you whiplash, that giant terrifying creature replaced by an oversized dog in mere minutes.

He's big enough to drag you to his 'den' and does so happily.

Ages in mind: 12 yr old Damian Wayne, 19 yr old Tim Drake, 22 yr old Jason Todd, 27 yr old Dick Grayson, 40 yr old Bruce Wayne

ₓ ˚ . ୭ ˚ ○◦ ˚ . ˚ ◦○ ˚ ୧ . ˚ ₓ

Imagine…

You, a broke 21 year old college student, being hired by Bruce Wayne to be a nanny for Damian a few months after he had arrived to the manor. The Wayne’s aren’t known for hiring them as the family butler usually takes care of all his kids but Alfred has been too overwhelmed and has needed some help. The pay is extremely well, free shelter, and it’s just taking care of one kid. Can’t be that bad…except for the fact it’s the worst job you’ve ever accepted.

This kid keeps threatening to kill you just for existing in the manor or anytime you try helping him. He tries to make your life completely miserable and is always lashing out at everything you do. He gets even more mad when his pets start to warm up to you. Titus enjoys the delicious treats you give him and Alfred the Cat somehow enjoys your presence, often sitting near you when you’re watching TV. Damian finds you completely insufferable and a waste of space in his home.

It changes when your guys were in the kitchen late at night. Damian couldn’t sleep so he went to the kitchen to drink something when he saw you sitting at the table. He tries to ignore you as he opens the fridge. You take a sip of coffee, “Can’t sleep?” He scoffs at the sound of your voice. “That’s none of your business.” “It kinda is, it’s my job to take care of you.” You take another sip of coffee now looking at the irritation on his face. You stand up, making your way to the kitchen, making your way to a secret drawer in the kitchen. “Do you prefer lavender or chamomile?” “What?” “I making you some tea, it’ll help you sleep.” “I don’t need your stupid tea.” “Lavender it is, sit down I wanna talk to you.” He sits reluctantly, watching you put water into the electric kettle and put it to boil.

“Alright what’s your issue with me?” Damian was taken aback not expecting you to confront him. “What?” “Listen I’m not stupid, I know you want me gone. You’ve made it quite obvious and I want to know what’s going on.” “You don’t know what I want.” You take a deep breath as you lean in over the counter. “Damian you might not believe it but you pretty easy to read. I could tell you keep lashing out on me because you want Bruce to give you attention and I’m sorry but that’s not the way to do that. Trust me, I know what it’s like to be neglected and to want your parents to notice you but this isn’t the way to do it.” Damian stays silent, not knowing what to say to any of that. “You can ignore me and continue to be a little sack of shit all of your life, fine by me, just please make it a little easier on me.” “If you have such an issue with it, why don’t you just leave? It’s not like you actually care about me, you’re only here because my father pays you to take care of me. So why don’t you go find another job?” The tea kettle clicks behind you. You sigh and you stand up straight. “I’m just trying to help you. As I said I know what it’s like but your life isn’t gonna be any easier if you just stay like this for all your life.” You pour the boiling hot water onto the tea bag, pouring some honey and stirring it. You bring it towards Damian as you continue talking. “As much as I bet you want me to, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. You can choose to act the way you want to act, but if I was you I would rather make a little friend than try to make an enemy. It’s good to have those.” You take your stuff and walk to your assigned room leaving Damian in the kitchen alone drinking his tea.

Ever since that day, your relationship with Damian grew. It started off with him saying good morning instead of ignoring your first thing in the morning. He eventually started going out of his way to spend time with you. It feels like having a little brother that just follows you which feels nice but does come with a lot of baggage. For some reason his brothers are now interested in you. Their names being Jason, Dick, and Tim. They used to also avoid you but now seeing Damian’s clinginess, their interest in you has sparked tremendously. And if you thought they were the only ones after you, you seem to also catch the attention of Bruce.

Now having to share your attention with his brothers as well as his father, Damian begins to grow an obsession. You’re the only one who’s been here for him and now that you guys established a relationship, everyone wants to take you away from him. You’re his sister, and he swore to protect you from anyone who looks at you in any way whether it’s romantic or out of hatred.

. ・ 。 . ・ ゜ ✭ ・ . ・✫・ ゜・ 。 .

Vs

You, who notices his death glare from five miles away and is completely terrified of him cause why is the skull wearer following you around? Why is he breathing so heavily whenever he’s behind you in the elevator? and why GOD whyyyy is he always fidgeting and won’t utter a word around you? Does he hate you that much…?

Vs

Multiple rows of sharp, pointy teeth fill your mouth. The kind that has people grimacing and taking a step back. Usually you wear a mask in public, no one really questions it, but now you're with the 141 and they insist on group meals.

You try to keep to yourself, head ducked down and taking tiny bites of steak to avoid anyone noticing.

"Fuckin' hell, look at that–" only for ghost to grab your face across the table and tilt it up. Face completely expressionless while he shoves a thumb under your lips to expose your teeth "freaky shit, innit. Garrick, look–"

"Woah. Man." Kyle leans over ghosts shoulder and makes no move to save you from the humiliation. "That's fucking hot."

What.

You've never heard your teeth of all things described in any way as attractive.

"Mh, sharp, too." Ghost adds, other hand coming up to pry your mouth open fully. He tilts your head this way and that, manhandling. "Bet it feels damn good on skin."

Gaz snorts, reaches forward over ghost to prod at your teeth too "yeah, maybe to you, freak. Bet you'd love a blowie from that."

"You'd pay to see it." Ghost shoots back. You have no idea if that's a good or bad thing. Ghost looks you in the eye for a moment "think you could handle tha' without taking my dick off?"

Mostly it's impossible to think about anything besides your burning face and the fingers still in your mouth. Fuck, you've always enjoyed some manhandling, but the whole talking over you is really doing it. You can't help but imagine yourself between them, doing exactly what they want, maybe even biting if ghost asks—

"Bloody hell, can you two be normal for once? Leave the kid alone." Price grunts from down the table.

Oh shit. Yeah. Public space, middle of lunch.

Kyle sits back in his own chair with a grumble, and ghost takes his hand out of your mouth only to lick the gathered saliva off—

"Simon. I mean it."

"Sir." Ghost nods, smug as hell. He returns to his meal and leaves your face flushed down to your chest.

For the longest time, ghost has assumed himself to be a beta. No heat or rut to speak of, nothing noteworthy happening downstairs, scent always mild. He never considered the...prolonged and intense trauma throughout his whole life may have stunted presentation.

Not until you move into the apartment next to his.

You, some omega that still smells of milk-honey underneath that fresh scent. Too young in ghosts opinion to be living alone.

Ghost's body decides to completely skip an omega heat and jump straight to overwhelming paternal instincts. Instincts that have you waking up in the middle of the night to your weirdo neighbor in your fucking apartment making a nest.

"Dude. What the hell." You say, lost for words. Sure, you like your neighbor and you should probably be freaking out right now, currently you are too damn tired.

"You need proper rest, pup." He tells you, leaving the nest to make a good attempt at scruffing you.

"I am a grown adult, sir." You grunt, but he's stronger and you end up in the nest anyways.

It's....really nice. The nest smells familiar enough with his scent and blankets from your closet tossed in. It settles some part of your hindbrain, you've not gotten around to making a nest since moving in. Never saw the point in it.

Now, you get it. Snuggled in and dozing off, ghost moving quietly around the room, cleaning. His own purr kept low and soft, no need to disturb his pup. In a few hours the instincts surge will settle down and for a brief moment he will be convinced he was dosed with something. Then, once realizing what's going on, mentally claim you as his pup.

Fetch and retrieve. Usually as the go to get away driver, the escort.

Today it’s the task force 141.

Just a pick up and drop off.

And you heard they’re all big and strong, 700 pounds in total, an entanglement you pray to be far away from just from hearing how well they work together, how they’re so close knit, it gives you a weird taste in your mouth. Jealousy? You’re not opening any cans anytime soon. They all pile in the large black SUV at the airport after getting their luggage inside.

Ghost in the passenger side while the other three men in the backseat. John clears his throat, gives a smile, “Laswell said you’re the one to pick us up, it’s nice to meet you love.”

You give an unamused hum, ignoring the friendly look he’s giving you in the rearview mirror and looking towards the traffic filled airport. You tap your finger on the steering wheel, “Seatbelts.”

Gaz and Soap exchange look, Soap shrugs his shoulders, “Maybe she’s shy?”

“Looks like she doesn’t want t’ be here mate.” Gaz chuckles, trying to ease the tension.

And even in the awkwardness, it’s enough for you to turn the music up and whip out of the parking spot, the last moments of peace before you turn a 45 minute drive to the army base into a 25 minute one. Switching lanes as if you’re too indecisive, one arm rested on the car door mindlessly, while you drive with one hand, lightly humming along to the music as the backseat is filled with screams and groans. Sure Soap has threatened to throw up, Gaz holding onto dear life as John tries to get you to slow down, all while Ghost is laughing up a storm as he sits in the passenger seat, unsure if this was an attempt on all of their lives or your just pure hell on the road.

But you make it to base in one piece, Soap does throw up in the parking lot and John is already yelling up a storm about the dangers of the road but you’re not really listening. Not even when Kate comes to get you guys for the meeting that was set to be had, John is red in the face, Gaz is simply worried that you’ll actually be working under them, Soaps fanning his face while cursing up a storm and you can hear the amusement in Ghosts voice. All while you’re yawning and picking at your ear.

Kate can only sigh, asking you to wait outside for a brief moment. You oblige with a huff, door shutting behind you.

Reader! Who enters the bar in a large and poofy princess wedding dress, face full of makeup, and hair slicked up snd out of your face, veil and phone tightly gripped in your hand.

And makes almost everyone in the half empty room do a double take as you make your way to a free bar stool, small ‘sorrys’ as you lift your dress that keeps brushing against tables.

The bartender gives you a questionable look, “Can-Can I help you ma’am?”

“Can I get a strawberry daiquiri, and- do you sell wings here?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Then that too. The biggest basket ya got. With a side of barbecue sauce. Oh, and ranch!” You plop your veil in your lap and you set your phone down on the counter, that’s still rapidly buzzing.

If the 141 would have imagined such a beautiful and blushing bride walking into their live — in a dingy bar on a Thursday evening no less. Had Gaz not shoved Soap over to you, the four men would’ve all thought they were under some type of hypnosis.

“Bloody ‘ell yer bonnie.” Soaps words fall out before he can catch them.

You look over at him, half stoic from running away from your own wedding right as your ex soon to be husband said his vows in the last 45 minutes, and half thankful— you let out an airy giggle, “Well I did pay the makeup artist to do a good job.”

John comes around to you, he’s steady, poised, “Are you sure you’re alright love?”

“I feel alright, I think.” You say, sipping the fresh frozen drink sat infront of you. Okay, maybe more than two sips, but your hearts still pounding.

“No- I mean- you’re in the wrong place. Shouldn’t you meant t’ be-“

“—At a wedding?” You finish, finally meeting eyes with this beared stranger. You tap your fingers at the bar, shrugging, with an exasperated laugh, “I thought so too, before I found out that the guy cheated on me. Numerous times. And even when my mom tried me to convince me, I had to ask myself, ‘what is this for? What is any of this for?’ I didn’t want the big ass wedding to begin with, but I wanted the poofy dress. But I couldn’t even get the one I really wanted, so what’s the point? I’m fucking Barbie, and your trynna marry me to fuck all, when I want Ken!” You take another swing of your drink, burping it out and covering your mouth.

“I want Ken, and Denzel, and Keanu, and David Beckem in his prime with a big ass house and pool and not being forced to have kids for some company with no money promised to me for- some cheat! Next thing you know, I’m running and calling a fucking taxi to a bar I’ve never been to and then I got a slurpie on the way. And I’m craving wings. And I hope they enjoy that 4 tier cake cause I know for fucking sure, I chose a damn good cake.”

And maybe you’re in a movie or something because you got a handful of cheers and applause. Your cheeks burn underneath your skin with embarrassment but you’re unashamed. Eyes only matching to the other handsome men at the end of the bar who seem to be with the beard stranger.

Simon snickers and raises his pint to you, “Got a pair of balls on ya luv.”

You stick your nose up, ends of your lips cracking into a smile, “they’re pretty heavy.”

Gaz smiles, “Next one’s on me then, anything’s better than a shite wedding, yeah?”

John gives you a warm smile, hand slipping onto your upper back, “mind having your reception with us then? Don’t think we’re too shabby compared t’ the bloody muppet who fucked you over, are we?”

Your eyes swirl over the four men in front of you, biting the inside of your lip, it can’t get any more than an hour ago, can it? “No, I’d greatly appreciate it actually.”

But it's not the usual way you'd think. No glances across the bar, no shared smirks or flirty touches.

In fact, you hadn't even noticed john until another man shoulder-checked you instead of stepping the the two inches it took to get around you. The man, drunk by the smell of his breath, had whirled on you "watch where you're going, bitch."

The hand never grabbed your arm, because john stepped in.

Large body between you and the strange man, some words hissed that you couldn't focus on with the hunk of muscle un front of you. Between one blink and the next the man was flat on the floor and johns knuckles were bloody.

On the sidewalk after getting kicked out, with streetlights casting a smoky halo around john, you knew you had to take him home.

One night led to mutliple, led to staying for breakfast and coffee dates and then real dates. Led to whispered confessions and your dreams for the future slowly shifting to include your john. Led to a wedding and an even better wedding night.

On your honeymoon john insisted on taking you out of the country to meet some friends and stay in some fancy cabin.

"–And this is nikolai, but everyone calls him nik." John nods to a man you'd recognize anywhere.

"Are you...are you the man from the bar." You've never been good with subtlety. You look at price "why are you friends with the guy from the bar?"

Of course. Your husband whom you've believed to be your lucky savior since you met him has actually had his eyes on you for far longer. In his infinite wisdom, he decided staging a rescue was the best way to impress you back then.

contents :: smau. established relationship. fluff. gender neutral reader.

— BRUCE WAYNE

You weren't against the idea of a big family until your ultrasound, where the doctor confirmed two viable fetuses. "Twins?" Kyle gasps as he squeezes your hand, looking at you with a beaming smile. You stare at him wide-eyed, heart jumping in your chest as you look between the screen and his face.

"Two... Wait, no, that's not supposed to happen." You whisper, breath starting to come in short bursts. "We aren't prepared for two kids! Two babies!"

"Hey, hey, hey... Simon already built us one crib he can build another. Look at me, love, look at me." Kyle cradles your face in his hands. "I'm here. I'm here for you, and our babies."

"What if we get them confused? What if they get switched around?"

"They have medical tattoos that can tell them apart, it's okay."

"We're going to give them tattoos!?!"

Summary: Just headcanons, pretty short, based on this request.

TW: Minor sexual references.

• When he pre-makes his lunches, he’ll make you a portion if he knows that you like the meal (his egg fried rice is banging).