The way you write Bruce makes me absolutely feral. I can't stop thinking about your fics. You are quite literally amazing. I mean this in the most non threatening way possible, but If you stop writing Them™️ I hope your shoelaces come untied everytime it rains, and you have to touch the cold wet fabric to retie them. Kthanksbye xoxoxo
omg thank you so much!!! even for your threat lmfao. right now i don’t have any fic ideas for them but i am only getting more invested in the DCU so i’m hoping that it will be a lasting hyper-fixation!!! xoxo
Do you by any chance have any headcanons/thoughts about Bruce Wayne being ticklish that you want to share with the class 🥺
OMG abso-fucking-lutely
I think he can hold out weirdly long while being tickled without laughing, mostly as self-preservation so his kids and colleagues don't find out about it so easily, but once he's laughing, he is absolutely not stopping
I think some of his fondest memories with his mother are from moments when she was tickling him, because she was always so soft with him
I think that after his parents died he really appreciated any affection he could get (and Alfred would try to provide as often as possible) and as a result he also probably liked to be tickled, but got less vocal about it (and increasingly more embarrassed by it) the older that he got
I think that the older his kids get the more attentive they are to it as well (I think Dick absolutely tickles him on purpose, and Tim makes sure to give Bruce hugs when he can to make sure he's getting the daily recommended dose)
I think his worst spots are his tummy and thighs, and while tummy raspberries get him bad, the moment someone pinches his thighs he is absolutely hysterical
Weirdly, I don't think it was Clark that found out Bruce was ticklish first out of the JL, I think it was probably Diana, who promised to keep it a secret, but Hal was somewhere nearby and totally blabbed about it
He isn't a huge fan of Hal or Barry tickling him, because they usually go harder and their teases lean more towards making fun of him (because he scares them), but he likes when Diana or Clark do it, because they are much softer about it
Sometimes he lets his kids tickle him, but usually he's the ones doing the tickling, though he is known to let them get revenge every once in a while
When his neck or ribs are tickled he starts to snort, and he is incredibly embarrassed by it
He likes rougher tickles more than softer tickles, just because of how embarrassed he gets when he has enough brain power to think about the situation that he's in
No matter who's tickling him, whether they're stronger than him or not, he just kind of lies back and takes it, throwing his head back and curling his arms into his chest
I think he prefers when the ler is stronger, though, because he has to worry less about hurting them
I also think that every once in a while, maybe when Bruce is injured or tired, that Alfred still gets him pretty bad (and Alfred's teases absolutely tear Bruce apart)
I wish you would write a fic where Clark realizes the best way to shut Bruce up when he's grumbling is to give him headscratches and then he proceeds to abuse that knowledge *insert angel emoji here*
I don't think I did this right, I'm sorry, I've never been good at following prompts lol, but here you go dear, a serving of headscratches (sort of) <3
..
“I never said that,” Clark sighed for the umpteenth time that night.
“You shouldn’t have a say in the matter at all.”
“That’s - Bruce, that’s not fair.”
“It is my time, my money, my life-“
“Okay, okay, hold on!” And Clark didn’t know what possessed him to do so, but he grabbed the back of Bruce’s neck, trying to get him to hold still. They never did very well with discussions when the billionaire had a large range of motion. Somehow being in close proximity to Clark seemed to calm him down, at least a little.
“I’m not saying I get to dictate your life, I’m just-“ Clark trailed off as he noticed how still Bruce was standing. Without meaning to Clark had started rubbing his thumb back and forth in a soothing manner. “Bruce?”
“Hm?”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You got awfully quiet.”
“What?” Bruce seemed to snap out of his trance. “Oh.” He cleared his throat awkwardly and stepped out of Clark’s grasp. “My point is… I can handle myself on patrol.”
“I know you can.”
“So I’d appreciate it if you didn’t interfere every single time I fall off a roof or take a hit.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“That’s all I ask.”
And huh. That was… a weirdly peaceful end to an argument that would usually have ended up with Clark flying back to Metropolis and Bruce ignoring him for a few days. Had he… accidentally found Bruce’s off button?
Clark wasn’t a journalist for nothing. He knew he needed to do proper research. And so the “Off-Button” mission began.
It started out small. Clark would put his hand on Bruce’s arm in the middle of one of his “I’m a big, strong independent bat” speeches and get shrugged off. Okay, so it wasn’t about Clark touching him.
Then he’d greet Bruce in the morning with a soft touch to the back of his neck and the reaction was instant. Bruce’s mouth would unfurl from that near permanent tight line and it wasn’t quite a smile, but it was something.
The further into Bruce’s hair, the better, Clark soon found out. The neck touching was a good way to stop Bruce was spiraling but when Clark actually scratched his fingers through Bruce’s hair? He was almost certain Bruce would let him burn down the cave if he’d wanted to.
It became a Thing™️. Every time Bruce was huffing and puffing about something stupid (because Clark wasn’t a moron. He knew couples fought, it was a part of a relationship) or was working himself into a hole he couldn’t get out of, Clark would run his hand through his hair. He’d scratch at his scalp, play with the dark strands or simply just run his hands through it, over and over, until Bruce was more puddle than man.
Bruce knew, obviously, though not as quickly as he’d have liked. He didn’t mind because who doesn’t like head scratches? Let Clark think he’d found his weakness. Not like you could put head scratches in a Krystal and lace weapons with it, unlike someone else’s stupid weakness.
So I think I had a stroke while tagging your venom fic?? That, or Tumblr mobile's shittiness strikes again. But whatever. It was amazing! I didn't even realize I cared about venom?? Like I'm not in that fandom?? But your writing and characterizations are just the best. You sucked me in, at least for any five you write in the fandom 😂 seriously you're probably my favorite writer on this site. You're so good.
I saw your tags and CACKLED omg. I really broke you with this one, huh?
Thank you so much gahhhh 🥺 I’m definitely not crying, you’re crying, shhhhhh. That means wholly means the world to me omg,,, I read fics I’m not in fandoms for all the time but somehow I can’t imagine anyone doing it with my fics??? for some reason??? and FAVORITE???? Okay, yeah, I’m definitely crying. Love you so much <333
I used to be fickletiction a few years ago, and before that I was berry--gum. I’m back!! Well..back for about two months probably, and then I’ll vanish again. But I decided to make a temporary profile to reblog a bunch of really good fics I’ve come across the last few days so here I am!
Thank you for that sweet sweet validation. Also I'm pretty sure this is my second time following you. Let's see if this one sticks. Seriously what's up with that Tumblr???
yes I remember your username! but thank you so so much for this response! I ddi really enjoy your fic! mostly bc i’d only ever really seen lee!kirk fics, so lee!bones was soooo refreshing
*shoves all the responsibility over to @fickle-tiction*
There. I did it. I wrote SuperBat for Bruce’s birthday, because a professional brain-poker told me to. How the hell do you keep motivating me when I can barely string two sentences together? Thank you, darling
Happy belated (one of your) birthday(s), Bruce Wayne. Let’s celebrate it by having you be super awkward, your kids being bullies and getting you a boyfriend. Have a first kiss on me<3
“He’s never gonna come around if you keep doing that.”
Bruce didn’t flinch, he didn’t. He was merely slightly surprised by Dick’s sudden appearance in his office. He wasn’t surprised at all that his oldest son was followed by both Tim and Jason. An ambush then. Great.
“What?” He asked, trying to buy himself some time. They both knew what Dick was referring to but Bruce desperately wanted to pretend like he wasn’t so easy to see through. They’d been after him for weeks now, but cornering him in the office? That was a new tactic.
“That. The whole –" Dick waved his hand around as he searched for the right word.
“The brooding vigilante thing,” Tim supplied helpfully.
Bruce barely refrained from rolling his eyes. Why had he invited his kids over for dinner again?
“I am a vigilante,” Bruce pointed out, ignoring the brooding comment. He wasn’t brooding. That was just how his face looked.
“Why don’t you Brucie him?” Jason said offhandedly. He was flipping through a book, but he wasn’t fooling anyone. He was just as much in this ambush as the others.
“What?” Bruce croaked intelligently.
“Brucie him,” Dick said, a smile growing on his face. “That’s actually a good idea, Jay.”
“I only have good ideas.” Nobody wanted to comment on that.
“I can’t – that’s not actually a thing –"
“C’mon, you do it all the time, B,” Tim said.
“I don’t –"
“Last week at the benefit? That lady wouldn’t have given a dime if you hadn’t slid in all Brucie Wayne and –"
“Alright, I get it. I just don’t think that’s the right approach. Clark is –”
“Superman,” Jason deadpanned. “Who is used to rescuing damsels in distress. What is Brucie if not a damsel?”
Bruce opened his mouth to argue. He knew Jason was mostly saying it to get a rise out of him, but he wasn’t offended on his own behalf, not much anyways, he was offended on Clark’s behalf. Superman may be the golden hero, but Clark was much more than that. Before he could get a word over his lips, a light knock came from the still open door.
“May I make a suggestion, sir?” Oh, thank God for Alfred. Perfect timing as always.
“Please,” Bruce sighed. He could use some support against his three well-meaning attackers.
“Why don’t you just be honest with Master Kent?” Never mind.
Bruce crossed his arms over his chest and raised a brow.
“Honest?” He asked with a frown. He’d tried being honest. He’d tried being direct. But how do you ask out the world’s strongest hero when you’re not even sure if he’s interested?
“Show him how you feel, sir,” Alfred clarified. “Seeing as your words are failing you.”
Bruce narrowed his eyes at the badly concealed mocking.
“That’s perfect, Alfred, that’s what we’ve been saying!” Dick said before turning back to Bruce. “Show him your vulnerable sides.”
“I don’t have any.”
Every single person in the room rolled their eyes. Bruce huffed and crossed his arms tighter.
“Be vulnerable. Open up. Talk. To. Him.”
“I –"
“Why are we all gathered in father’s office?” Damian. Bruce breathed a sigh of relief. Excellent timing.
“We’re not,” Bruce said as he stood to herd his children and butler out the door. “You are all leaving.”
“Think about what I said, Bruce!” Dick yelled through the door as it shut in his face.
And Bruce did think about it. So much so that he found himself distracted during patrol, which made his children even more insufferable. Bruce made a decision – he decided to try.
---
Try was the keyword, because Bruce was failing miraculously.
He tried asking Clark for help on a case, which nearly cost him his entire pride. Just uttering the words had him choking on every principle he held dear. It hadn’t been long since he’d told Clark not to come near Gotham and now he was practically begging for Superman to spend time in his city.
The case had gone smoothly, of course, no hiccups, but Bruce hadn’t been able to make a single normal conversation during their time together.
He thought of Alfred’s advice – showing Clark how he felt – and he’d reached out more than once. Not to pull Clark in for a hug or anything as bold as that, but simply to touch his shoulder or squeeze his arm. Every time he’d pulled back, afraid what the reaction would be or the conversation it would start.
So he’d tried at a league meeting. Staying a little later than normal, making small talk. Again, tried being the key word. Because if there was one thing Bruce was not good at, it was small talk. Brucie on the other hand…
He nearly caved and approached Clark at another benefit but changed his mind at the last second. There was no way he could pretend Clark was just another person to charm. And he did not want to risk a public rejection.
It wasn’t even about confessing – Bruce knew he wouldn’t have the guts to get that far yet – it was about letting Clark know what he meant to Bruce. That Bruce cared about him. That Bruce appreciated him. But while Brucie Wayne never had trouble finding words and Bruce himself was fluent in over forty languages, he had absolutely no idea how to convey that to Clark. At least not without sounding like a fool.
If Clark thought he was acting weird, he didn’t say anything for which Bruce was both eternally grateful and horribly embarrassed, because there was no way he didn’t notice Bruce’s weird behavior.
---
Bruce dragged himself up the stairs from the cave after a long patrol, heaving a heavy sigh. Tim and Duke had taken over early for him and yet he was exhausted. He’d changed into sweatpants and he knew Alfred wouldn’t be at the manor, so he’d opted for bare feet and a ratty old t-shirt. No way he was dressing up for a night alone.
He patted into the kitchen to grab something to eat when unfamiliar noises finally reached his ears. He froze for a short second before he recognized the noises, then he frowned. He looked to the stove where Clark Kent was standing, stirring a pot.
“Happy birthday,” Clark said with a warm smile.
“What?”
“It’s your birthday, isn’t it?” He asked, even though he clearly knew the answer. He’d been talking to the kids. Those sneaky little bastards... They knew he preferred a quiet evening alone on his birthday, as opposed to how Brucie Wayne celebrated.
“Yes?” He didn’t mean to sound unsure, but seeing Clark in his kitchen was not an every day sight. It wasn’t an unwanted one, just an unfamiliar one.
“So I’m wishing you a happy birthday,” Clark clarified. His voice was gentle but Bruce could clearly hear the hidden laughter.
“In my kitchen.”
“Yes.”
“Making food.”
“Yes.”
“For – for me?” Bruce tried. He didn’t want to assume, but why else would Clark be in his kitchen at - he checking the clock on the wall - 9.30pm? It wasn’t exactly normal dinner-time.
“For us, you idiot,” Clark said. He stirred once more before abandoning the pot and taking a few steps closer to Bruce.
“Us?”
“This is me asking you on a date,” he said, smile still soft and gentle.
“This isn’t really asking,” Bruce found himself saying. Later he’d want to smack himself for his reaction, but for now it was all he could think of to say.
“No, it’s not,” Clark agreed. “But I got tired of waiting for you to ask.”
“Why would I ask?” Knee-jerk reaction. Defense mechanism, Dick would say. Bruce winced at his own words.
“Bruce.”
Bruce swallowed thickly but didn’t say anything else. This was why he didn’t want to do the whole talking thing. He never came out sounding right – it wasn’t like he set out to sound like an asshole.
“You’re not as subtle as you think you are,” Clark told him.
Bruce said nothing, but Clark didn’t seem deterred. It wasn’t like Clark wasn’t right. If both his children and Clark had figured him out, he couldn’t have been hiding it very well.
“So?” Clark prompted after a moment of silence. He’d walked even closer to Bruce now, within touching distance. Bruce didn’t move.
“So?” He asked instead.
“No ‘thank you’ for making you dinner?” Clark laughed. Ah, and there it was. The nerves Bruce hadn’t seen before. There was a slight hesitation in Clark’s breath, in his steps.
“You’re making mac and cheese,” Bruce said, even as he felt a smile tug at his lips. The breath he’d felt trapped in his lungs finally released.
“It’s still dinner, isn’t it?” It was, Bruce couldn’t argue with that.
“Thank you,” he said, not entirely sure if it was a response to the ‘happy birthday’ or the dinner. He didn’t have time to think it through, because the next second he felt satin soft lips against his own.
It was a gentle kiss, nothing hot or dirty about it, yet Bruce felt like he was a teenager who’d just made out with his first love. His cheeks were on fire, and he felt like he’d sprinted seven miles.
“Took you long enough,” Clark said softly before turning back to the stove.
Omg I have a great prompt for you! How about *insert plot point* *insert plot point* *insert witty banter* *insert poe fucking asking for it* *insert more plot* and then Poe gets ticked to within an inch of his life and is a blushing happy mess?? How about that???
Incredible. Everyone else go home, this is the best prompt I’ve ever received.
ilysm omg 💕
you know what? I’m actually gonna do this. You’re lucky I love Poe so much. <3
