#he needs to straight up lose his shit or leave gotham

[mikakuna]

jason "i constantly forgive you for what you do to me but you've never once forgiven me" todd

#he's too forgiving with the bats #he needs to straight up lose his shit or leave gotham #he's always there for the bats when they need him but they can never just treat him like family #not that he needs forgiveness #but everyone has made him think he does #jason todd #red hood #batman #dc #bruce wayne #jason peter todd

[lovelybucky1]

Sweeten the Deal

Kinktober Day 4- Femdom

warnings: batgirl!reader, afab!reader, bondage, canon typical violence, implied batman x reader, degradation, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, spit as lube, unprotected sex, fade to black sex scene, 18+ minors dni

masterlist

kinktober masterlist

when you take the bag off of crane’s head, he is already conscious. he grins, though it’s lazy and dazed with his eyes unfocused.

“batgirl,” he drawls in that sickly sweet voice of his.

“crane,” you reply bitterly.

you had chased him down the streets of gotham in the rain. he had gotten some hits in, but your injuries were nothing compared to the uncomfortable squelching in your suit. when you finally caught up with him, you hit him in the back of the head with a rusty pipe and he was out. it’s not your most tactful capture, but it worked.

“i have to say, i’m a little offended they sent you after me instead of daddy. i guess i’m not as big of a bad guy as i used to be,” he smirks.

it’s a dig at your power, strength, and a slightly misogynistic one at that. you narrow your eyes at him. he can talk all the shit he wants, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s bound to a chair bolted to the floor.

crane looks around the warehouse he’s being held in, taking in the sight of the tall ceiling, dim lighting, and seeming lack of exit.

"this doesn't seem like the interrogation room they usually take me to," he notes.

you roll your eyes. "No, it isn't."

"have you bat-people finally taken over and judge and jury now, too?" crane looks far too smug for someone who is ultimately at your mercy.

"this isn't your typical trial, crane." you step closer to him. "you have information i need, so in return for your cooperation, i won't turn you in to the police."

crane leans his head back as much as he can due to the high back of his chair and raises his eyebrows at you. "you think you're doing me a favor by not turning me in? you turn me in and i'll just escape again, just like i did the last time, and the time before that. seems like those arkham employees really don't have their heads on straight," he smirks.

you pause for a moment, trying to think of a rebuttal. sure, crane has a phd, but you didn't think he'd be able to figure you out so quickly.

"how about we made a deal, then, crane?"

he looks at you with an unimpressed stare. "what, i tell you what you want to know and you stop torturing me?" he adjusts in his seat. "no offense, but a little girl in a costume doesn't really scare me." before you can respond, he's talking again. "besides, there is nothing you can do to me that i haven't already done to myself."

after that, he grins. it's unsettling, maniacal, and it reminds you that you're not just dealing with a guy who wears a costume and runs around the city. this guy is fucking crazy.

you exhale through your nose, resolving yourself to using a different interrogation method. you're not proud of it, but like crane said, there isn't any way to hurt or scare him. he already thinks you're only good for using your feminine wiles to distract enemies. what do you have to lose by confirming his suspicions?

"no, i'm not going to hurt you."

"oh, good. i have to say, i was getting pretty tired of batman breaking my ribs."

"i have something to offer you at batman can't," you say. you walk right up to his chair, almost standing between his bound legs. "sex appeal."

crane laughs, and the sound makes you feel slimy. "you must be one of those blind bats, or maybe batman really is your father." you furrow your brows behind your mask.

"but i can offer you something much more comfortable than what he would."

crane looks your body up and down, not trying to hide ogling in the slightest. "i see... so why don't you get on with it and take off that ridiculous suit."

"that's not how this works. you talk first," you say.

"how do i know you're not going to take my information and leave me here?"

you slip your leg over his hip and hold onto the back of the chair, lowering yourself onto his lap. he raises his eyebrows, looking up at you with a slight smirk on his lips.

"how about i give you some, you give me some?" he asks.

"fine. you go first," you say, not bothering to hide the annoyance from your voice. "tell me what you know."

"i know a lot of things. i'm a doctor, after all. i doubt most of it would be of any interest to you, though."

you sigh heavily. "tell me what you know about the drug supplier for arkham."

"hm, i'm not sure that rings a bell," he looks up at you with a devilish look in his eyes. you clench your jaw as you reach towards the base of your throat to grasp at the zipper to your suit. you drag it down slightly, revealing some of your cleavage.

"don't play dumb with me, crane."

"i have no idea what you're talking about."

"the original drug supplier for the asylum got bought out by some no-name company with no public records or anything."

"and why do you think this has something to do with me?"

you narrow your eyes. "because a week before the merger, the old ceo checked into arkham after a psychotic break. that has scarecrow written all over it."

crane chuckles. "it wasn't my idea. i was simply following orders."

"who's orders?"

"i don't know. i got back to my temporary residence and there was an unmarked envelope with my name on it. thirty-thousand dollars cash up front. the letter said they'd give me the rest upon completion of the job."

"so you did this without even knowing why? he was an innocent man," you say, voice almost a growl.

crane laughs mockingly. "oh, you precious thing. men like that are rarely innocent. he could've been corrupt, or an infidel, or a sexual predator. everyone is guilty of something. even batman, even you."

ignoring his bait for a reaction, you continue with your questions. "they gave you cash up front. why didn't you just take the money and run?"

"steal from a mysterious organization who knows my identity and where i'm hiding out?" crane scoffs.

"so you're-"

"if you want anything else, you better show some more skin," he interrupts.

glaring at him, you unzip your suit all the way but leave it on to show off the rest of your cleavage and down your stomach. his eyes trail over your skin hungrily.

"so you're just a hitman for hire now?" you ask.

"why, are you in the market?"

"have you done any other jobs?" you ask instead of answering his ridiculous question.

"maybe i have. maybe your precious batman is screaming and crying for you to come save him. wouldn't that be a sight? your mentor needing to be rescued from his bad dreams by you."

his voice is almost hypnotic, but you know better than to fall for his tricks. he's trying to persuade you to give into your baser urges, your jealousy, your need to be useful. fucking psychopath.

you reach around his head and twist your fingers in his hair, yanking it back causing it to knock against the metal back of the chair. he winces a bit, but it does nothing to quell the wild look in his eyes.

"shut up, crane."

"feisty," he remarks. "i did a few jobs outside the city, but those aren't in your jurisdiction."

unfortunately, he's right. outside of the city is too vague to track anyone down and connect crane to crimes.

"how did you do it?"

"do what?" he asks, looking at your tits instead of your eyes.

"do whatever it is you did to that guy."

"you want the dirty details, batgirl?" he smirks. "of how i strapped him down and injected him with my chemical that put the fear of god in him?" his hips thrust up, jostling you on his lap and making you grab onto his shoulder for support. he looks up at you with a sick smile. "he screamed and screamed, begging for mercy, for death to take him. he ripped out his hair and scratched his skin bloody. i think he was imagining spiders from what i could gather, but in my professional opinion, he just seems like your regular nutcase."

recounting his crime clearly feeds into some sick fantasy he has, but by playing into it, you're getting the information you need. you look down to see his cock straining in his pants.

"jesus, you're crazy," you say in disbelief, though you shouldn't be surprised.

"yet you still decided to crawl into my lap. you're just as crazy as i am, you're just afraid to get your hands dirty."

you can handle crane doubting your strength, your intelligence, your capability, and your worthiness to wear the bat symbol, but you refuse to let him compare the two of you.

"we are nothing alike," you hiss. "i don't torment people for my own enjoyment."

"what are you doing to me now?" he says, looking down at where your hips have shifted closer to his erection.

without thinking, you reach forward and harshly grab his cock through his pants. he winces and squirms, trying to get away from your touch or wanting more of it, you're unsure.

"you sick fucking bastard," you spit. "talking about your attempted murder got you this hard?"

"it was mostly the slut on my lap."

"you want me to hold up my end of the deal, crane? well it's going to be on my terms."

you climb off his lap and take off your suit, leaving you in your undergarments and mask. his eyes study you intently, making you feel more like a test subject than sexy.

when you step back over to him, you yank open the fly of crane's pants and take out his cock. he's hard and average sized; nothing impressive but enough to satisfy you.

standing in front of him, you spit into your hand and bring your wet fingertips down to your pussy. you open yourself up while he watches, unable to do anything else.

once you deep yourself open enough, you sit back on his lap and hold onto his dick, positioning his tip at your entrance.

"ask me for more," you say. "beg me for my pussy."

"this wasn't part of the deal," crane says, smug.

"i won't give you anything if you don't play by my rules. you're my prisoner right now."

crane rolls his eyes but resolves himself. "please give me your pussy," he says unenthusiastically.

"you can do better than that."

"please bless me with your fucking cunt, batgirl. i want you to use me." his tone could use some improvement, but the words were good enough to satisfy you.

you sink down on his length slowly to adjust to the size. by the time you're fully seated, crane is having a much more difficult time keeping his composure. his breathing is faster and small whines occasionally escape his mouth.

"how's that, crane?" you ask, voice breathy in his ear. "everything you thought it'd be?"

"looser than i expected. guess daddy treats you well," he chuckles, though it trails off into a moan.

you roll your hips a bit, gripping his shoulders tightly. perhaps you're holding on tighter than you need to, but pain clearly isn't a problem for crane.

"now you can tell all your freak friends- joker, harley, the riddler, whoever else you run with these days- that you got fucked by batgirl. i bet you'll spin it like you got me begging on my knees for you, but we'll know the truth. we know that you whimpered for my pussy like a little bitch."

“they don’t give a shit about you. but they’ll love to hear that i fucked batman’s bitch. does he know that you’re stepping out on him tonight?” he asks with a grin.

no, bruce doesn’t know what you’re up to tonight, and when you tell him, he’ll get the abridged version.

“stop fucking talking about him,” you hiss in his ear. “keep his name out of your disgusting mouth.”

crane moans at that. a genuine, low moan.

“i would’ve let myself get caught sooner if i’d known you were so easy to give it up.”

you’re riding him now, bouncing on his lap and using your grip on his shoulders as leverage. he watches as your tits jiggle in his face, staring shamelessly like the pig he is.

this doesn’t seem like much of a punishment for him, but fucking yourself on his cock is too enjoyable to care. besides, as soon as you finish, you will be promptly sending him back to arkham where he’ll be held in a much more secure wing.

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #scarecrow #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow smut #nolanverse #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #jonathan crane fanfic #jonathan crane fanfiction

[ghost-bxrd]

An idea as to how Dick finds out Selkie Jason is alive.

Bruce is out of Gotham doing something (business trip, JL shit, who knows), so Dick goes swimming with the strange Selkie he thinks is his brother's ghost.

You mentioned in an earlier post that Jason makes sure to nudge his family members back to the surface if he thinks they've been down with him too long.

So Jason tries to nudge dick to the surface, but dick doesn't want to leave the selkie that reminds him of his dead baby brother. Dick is afraid is he surfaces he will never see the selkie again. He misses Jason and doesn't want to lose this reminder.

So Jason ends up having to make it obvious that it is him, he is alive, and Dick needs to get his ass back to the surface before he dies, that idiot (affectionate).

Oh dang… that’s heartbreaking 😭

I can totally see Jason waiting until Dick (nearly) passes out underwater. In the beginning it’s out of spite, later on it’s because he refuses to show that he cares whether Dick drowns or not.

His resolve gets dashed to pieces the second Dick shows obvious signs hypoxia and he just straight to panic.

#selkie au #selkie Jason todd

[citrinesparkles]

welcome home.

jason todd x gender neutral reader. 2,086 words. notes: requested by an incredibly flattering anon as part of my hundred followers celebration! thank you again for the feedback, and for enabling me :) also was subconsciously influenced by this piece. warnings: arguing, discussion of danger, reader gets accidentally threatened, patching up wounds, lots more swearing than my usual (but it's all mild language). angst and comfort, i think. super dialogue heavy. this is so long and a little (lot) messy just. prepare yourself

"man," a robotic voice echoed dangerously through the dark living room, sending chills through you. "did you pick the wrong apartment."

luckily, the voice was familiar. "um, the one i live in?"

he choked out your name, startled, and you flicked on the light switch to find him frozen in place with a gun in his hand.

"right." you said tensely, glancing at it- which made him jerk his hand down, shoving the gun into its holster as though it burned him- and looking back up at the eyes of his helmet. "so, uh, i'll turn a light on next time."

"you shouldn't be home yet," he said stiffly.

"i texted you like, three hours ago to let you know i'd be home a day early."

he swore quietly. "my phone's in the river."

"how did it- you know what, at least that explains the radio silence. you didn't think to have someone else- anyone else- let me know?"

"uh." he paused, tensing almost imperceptibly for a moment. "no. i was, uh, i was busy. i'm sorry."

"busy, huh?" something felt very wrong, and not just the fact that he had nearly shot you. "okay, i'll bite, busy with what?"

"nothing important."

the sinking feeling in your stomach intensified and your eyes narrowed dangerously. "important enough that you forgot to tell me you weren't dead in an alley somewhere, when you knew i'd be texting to check in anyway. leaving me worrying in a hotel room in another city."

"nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to worry about." you were really getting sick of the sound of his modulator, but he continued before you could say anything. "go back to what you were doing, babe."

"yeah... uh, no." you stepped forwards and he flinched back defensively, making you freeze. "seriously, what is up with you tonight?"

"noth-"

"jason, i promise if you say nothing one more time, i'm going to lose my mind."

he shifted his foot back slightly, and you took a deep breath.

"okay," you conceded, raising your hands up in surrender and moving backwards yourself. "respecting your space now. that wasn't my best decis-"

your voice cut out when something under his jacket caught your eye.

something red.

"holy crap, jason, what the hell?"

he winced quietly. "you weren't supposed to be home yet, okay?"

"take that stupid helmet off already, would you?" you snapped, already moving to get the first aid kit.

"i would've gone somewhere else if i'd known, okay?" his voice, now clear and crisp without the filter, followed you down the hall.

"that does not make this better!"

"can you please not yell at me right now?"

you dashed back into the room, shooting a vicious glare at him. "jacket."

he slid it off gingerly, dropping it on the couch next to his helmet.

"can you get the armor, or do i need to help?"

even despite the domino mask he was wearing, you could tell he was rolling his eyes. "if i couldn't do it on my own, why would i have come here if i didn't think you'd be home?"

"hm," you took the piece he handed you and carefully set it on the couch, "maybe because you're a stubborn jackass?"

he grunted, sliding his undershirt off and passing it to you. "i don't wanna stain the couch with that."

"your priorities suck."

"it's the nicest piece of furniture we own!"

"it's still a couch!"

"it was expensive!"

"oh for crying out loud-" you threw your hands up again, this time in frustration. "fine! fine. i'll go put this in the tub and get a soak going. you-" you shoved the kit towards him pointedly- "start washing that off."

"how come you're calling the shots?" he snapped back petulantly.

"because my torso's in one piece."

"i have way more experience with this, i should be making the decisions here."

"oh, of course, my apologies!" your voice was absolutely dripping in sarcasm. "what, pray tell, would you have us do?"

he scowled at you for a moment before reaching for the first aid kit and flicking the lid open. "whatever."

you turned on your heel, stomping into the bathroom.

the shirt got thrown into the tub and the tap got tossed all the way on, and as the water crashed into the gray fabric, you took the opportunity to squeeze your eyes shut and breathe deeply.

you opened your eyes a minute later, finding the water dyed a rusty almost-red from blood.

his blood.

you turned off the tap- gently pushed the handle, this time, the fire in your chest now largely extinguished- and made your way back to the living room to find him running a rag over the space below his ribs.

"may i?" you asked softly, stopping a few feet away and holding a hand out to him.

his jaw clenched and relaxed three times in quick succession, but he finally sighed and dropped his shoulders before holding the rag out. "yeah, c'mere."

you worked in silence, being as gentle as possible. jerking your hand back and mumbling apologies when he hissed.

"s'okay, comes with the territory."

you pressed the alcohol-soaked towel back against him, and he sighed.

"that was stupid, huh."

a small laugh escaped you. "it so was."

"can we..."

"try that again?"

"yeah."

you pulled back, standing up straight to meet his eyes. "only if i can take the dumb mask off of you."

"i thought you liked the mask," he teased, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

"jason."

he chuckled, wincing again when it jostled his wounds. "ouch. uh, yeah, mask. g'head."

you gently pulled it from his face, setting it neatly on his other gear before running your thumbs across the line of adhesive it left on his cheekbones. "hi there."

"hey." he leaned into your touch, vibrant eyes fluttering halfway shut. "so uh, welcome home."

"thanks. could've done without the gun, though."

a choking sound tore from his throat, his eyes flying back open. "holy shit, baby, i almost-" he jerked back from you, no regard for his side. "you almost- shit, shit, are you- i'm so sorry, i didn't-"

"okay, woah, hey-"

"i could have killed you."

it was a whisper, horrified and harsh, and while it was technically true, his tone teetered on the edge of a dark space you had seen before and really didn't want him falling back into.

"yeah."

you desperately searched for the right thing to say, rejecting variations of "but hey, you didn't actually", "maybe you should be more careful about waving a gun at people", and one particularly unhelpful "no shit, sherlock".

finally, you settled on a quiet, calm "but i'm still right here, okay?"

his hand flew up to cover his mouth, doing absolutely nothing to hide the near panic written on his features. "i could have killed you."

"okay, so, in the future, we'll... we'll uh, we'll come up with some kind of system for letting you know when i'm home, or something."

"oh, like a phone?" he asked harshly. "the one i was stupid and sloppy enough to dunk in the harbor?"

"that wasn't- i'm guessing that you had a lot on your plate." you waved the cold, bloody towel in your hand at his wounds. it made him curl in on himself slightly, stepping backwards again until his back hit the arm of the couch.

"no excuses. i could have killed you."

"i-"

"no, i almost shot without saying anything!" he exclaimed, brow furrowed and eyes stormy. "i thought someone had broken in, and i got so- i don't even know, damn territorial or some stupid shit- that i almost put a bullet between your eyes. i could have-"

"jason!"

he screwed his eyes shut and dropped his head, roughly tugging his fingers through his hair. "i almost-"

"but you didn't. okay?" every fiber of your being wanted to hold him, to tug him into you and put his hand against your ribs and show him you were okay and breathing, heart still pumping, but he looked enough like a cornered animal that you half expected him to bite you if you tried. "c'mon, jaybird. a life like yours, can you really afford almosts?"

"life like mine, i can't afford to let anyone close to me. apparently, if the goons and thugs don't kill you, i will."

"that's not-"

"what if i hadn't said something?" he snapped venomously. "what if i'd lost more blood and was loopy from it? what if i'd come home with a concussion- again- and didn't think past 'point and shoot'?"

"jason," you finally interjected. "you think i haven't thought about that?"

his eyes, grim and vicious and so full of emotion that you thought you could drown in them, dropped to the floor.

"because it's not a secret that your life is risky. you're risky. i know that. but you're worth every ounce of danger, okay? i'm choosing this, choosing you, knowing full well what i'm getting into, because you're worth all of it."

"i'm not worth any of it."

"that's not your call to make."

"it-"

"you think i need you to make my choices for me?"

"no, of course not."

"you think im stuck here?"

"do you feel like you are?"

"absolutely not." you inched forward again. "i'm here because i want to be."

"...i just... i don't..."

"don't want me to get hurt?"

he finally looked back up at you, eyes watery and jaw tense. "or worse."

"i know, baby. i know," you sighed. "but that's part of life, right? and if the hurt's inevitable, i want the rest of my time to be as nice as possible, and you make my life better. make me better."

"by putting you in danger?"

"it's gotham, handsome, i'm gonna be in danger either way. at least with you, i know i have someone looking out for me. right?"

"always," he said immediately.

"okay then." you took the last step between the two of you slowly, watching for any resistance. meeting none, you brushed your knuckles against his. "i can't think of anywhere i'd feel safer."

"you know that's crazy, right?"

you hummed quietly. "nah."

"i'm being serious."

"me too."

he studied your face silently. you smiled softly at him.

finally, a sigh escaped him and he scooted his hand forward, wrapping his index finger around your own and squeezing gently. "you're sure you want this? i can set you up with a place downtown for a bit. you'd never have to see me again, never have to worry about... all of this."

"i've never been more sure of anything." you said it firmly, confidently, letting the words hang in the air for a few moments before popping one eyebrow up playfully. "why, need to make room for a side piece?"

a startled choking sound escaped him. "excuse me?"

"i mean, when you were talking about being busy, it felt kinda suspicious."

"what is wrong with you?" he asked, exasperation and laughter coating his voice.

"listen, you were being evasive!" his head fell forwards, resting on your shoulder as he laughed.

"i didn't want you to know i was bleeding all over the place!"

"why, didn't want me to worry?"

"exactly!"

you reached your free hand up, gently resting it on the back of his head and playing with his hair. "then maybe, just maybe, you should have gotten someone to tell me your phone went for a swim."

"fair enough."

you stood quietly for a long time, running your fingers through his hair and enjoying the feeling of his breath against your collar.

"i..." he muttered, pulling back to look in your eyes. "i don't think- um. i don't think i'm..." he groaned, gaze darting to the ceiling. "i love you. but the minute you have enough of- of all of this-"

"i won't."

"but if you do, i'll... i'll understand, okay?"

you squeezed his finger gently. "okay." you inhaled deeply, dropping the bloody towel you were still clutching and slid your hand forward to hold his completely. "can we get a bandage on that and go to bed, now?"

"....yes please."

---

"wait!" you yelled, throwing the first aid kit haphazardly onto the bathroom counter and racing after him into the bedroom, where he whirled around with wide eyes. "i love you too! i never said it back- i love you too."

"don't yell like that- i thought something was wrong!"

"me not saying it back is urgently wrong, jason!"

#citrine writes #this was. this was a monster #i sure hope you enjoy because i'm unsure how quality it is #jason todd #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #imagines #dc #dc imagines #dc imagine #blood cw #medical cw

[ritacrow-blog]

-daminette

-introverted mari

-the usual class, adrien, lila, Alya! Salt

-Chloe redemption. She appoloises but leaves for New York a few months later due to bullying from the class.

- To distract herself from all the negatives in her life she immersed herself in work.

-has trust issues with strangers. Supportive Friends (Luka, Chloe and Kagami) and Parents.

-designs and sells her designs under MDC

-Solves cold cases while hunting down hawk-moth as "Nettie". (and because of this, hacking becomes a secret talent of hers) and reports her findings to the chief of police. Sabrina's dad (I forgot his name). Using Ladybug as the messenger. Ladybug explains to the Chief that she found someone to help track down hawk-moth, but doesn't want to be known. And that she is only giving acting as Nettie's messanger for cases that she just so happens to "accidentally" come across while searching for hawk-moth. So he sees Nettie as a "Robin Hood" just without the stealing part.

-She hangs out with Kagami but also learns how to use a Katana from her as an excuse to give to her mother. Like: learning how to teach people and is using Marinette as her Guinea pig student. Which Marinette then starts to enjoy. Especially when she needs to vent and just cut something down. And she eventually gets really good at it.

-the bullying gets worse

-by this time she's already gathering evidence against Gabriel and Natalie. Also finds out that Chat noir is Adrien. (she isn't very surprised). And makes a promise to herself that she will take them down before the school year ends.

-She goes to the Chief as ladybug to report what Nettie found. So they plot.

-stealing the miraculous from Adrien first before finding Kagami to be her Black cat for the final battle. And Luka as Python (different costume for identity reasons). They sneak into the Manor going straight to the lair where she found Adrien's Mom via CCTV. Heals her (let's pretend that LB has healing abilities. Ya?) and explains everything that is going on while Panther and Python search the area for the miraculous just in case. LB talks ladybug into getting Gabriel to surrender and she agrees. But Gabriel and Natalie storm in already transformed to fight. Not noticing Emily at first. When he finally does he stops. While Angry at them she convinces Gabriel and Natalie to stand down and surrender the miraculous to ladybug and face proper judgment.

-Ladybug, Panther and Python escort Gabriel and Natalie to the police waiting outside and Emily to get herself checked by the medics. Adrien is still asleep and unaware in his room. He will definitely be having quite the shock in the morning. His miraculous is gone. His mom is alive. Emily knows about him being Chat noir through LB. Is now under Emily's strict supervision.

-The last few months of school are loud after the news. Court hearing scheduled a week after the last day of school. Gabriel reveals Lila's role. Lila tries to get out of it but is proven guilty with evidence provided by Nettie. Bye-bye Liela~

- the class find out about what lila did and try to find Marinette to apologise.

-Marinette forgives but doesn't accept them as friends anymore.

Alya: "so now that we're friends again. Think you could get me that interview with Ladybug about the Hawk-moth case?"

Mari: "No"

Alya: "Thank you so mu-... What?... Why? We're best friends! True bestfriend help each other out!"

Mari: "exactly. Best friends help each other out. But where were you when I was bullied by lila. Heck the whole class. How about the harassment with Adrien. When I was clearly over him. We're not best friends alya. Not even close to being a friend"

Alya: "when did you get over adrien??? I thaught you were dating Luka to make adrien jealous."

Mari: (-_-) "I'm not. I haven't had a crush in adrien for 3 years now. I got rid of everything related to him. And I set Luka up with Kagami. They've been dating for over a year now"

Alya: "what the hell"

-not wanting to have anything to do with the class anymore. She applies for her last year in Gotham Academy (let's just say that she likes their curriculum: includes fashion design, coding and programming, and a kendo club. Kagami successfully converted her into a katana welding badass)

-Mari gets permission from her parents to move in to her Nona's apartment in Gotham.

- She leaves without telling anyone from the class. Only her family, Kagami, Chloe and Luca know.

-She arrives in Gotham and encounters Scarecrow on her fist day there. Gets caught in the fear gas.

-She sees her old classmates. Hawk-moth. Mayura. Chat Noir and Chat blanc. The Akumas. Purple butterflies.

-fights while under the fear toxin. Attacks every "akuma" (goons) coming her way. Unknowingly fighting the batfam thinking that they're "akumas". Until Nightwing holds her down and Robin injects the antidote.

Mari: *muttering* fuck you hawk-moth and your disgusting purple butterflies. *faints*

Red Robin: What the fuck...

Red Hood: I call dibs on Pixi pop becoming my sister.

Batman:.......

Nightwing: *looks at Robin* please tell me you heard that too...

Robin:.......

-Mari wakes up in the ambulance. Feels fine so she just hops off and goes straight for her bags.

Nightwing: where are you going? You still need to get checked.

Mari: I'm fine. I've dealt with worse. I'm just gonna go and get my bags. I don't trust the security here.

Nightwing: hey! Wait!

Mari keeps walking to her bags. Picks up her katana and straps it to her back and grabs her luggage.

Nightwing: Hey! You still need to get checked anyways... And questioned...

Mari: *stares*..... Fine. But please Hury I want to get to my place before it gets dark.

Batman: how did you fight the fear toxin?

Mari: it's called fear toxin... No wonder I saw what I saw... *looks at batman* I'm used to having to deal with my fears. I've had to fight them head on in Paris constantly.

Red Robin: Isn't Paris a peaceful city?

Mari: *scoff* peaceful my ass. It hasn't been peaceful at all the past 3 years. I've seen enough deaths and magical shit to last me a lifetime.

Batfam:......

Mari: *sigh* sorry for my language. I'm just cranky from not having had any sleep in the past... 1,2,3,4,5... 6...oh shit... Anyways... Look I just landed I haven't had sleep the past few days. Got caught in the attack. Somehow fought them of. Lost consciousness... Not even sure why I even woke up considered my lack of sleep...and now being questioned... And... That pretty much it really.

Batfam:.....

Mari: what still not satisfied?

Robin: you mentioned having encountered enough magic and deaths to last you a lifetime.

Mari:..... I did?

Batfam:......

Red Robin: yes you did

Red Hood: *mutters* why do I suddenly feel like I'm looking at a female replacement....

Mari: Oh... Damn... I'm not even sure if the blackouts been lifted yet.

Batman: blackout?

Mari: the media blackout...it should be lifted soon. Not sure when....

*Phone notification rings*

Mari: speak of the devil... Here.

*she shows batman her phone*

He goes through the news and 2 videos of akuma attacks.

Mari: can I have my phone back and go now? It's getting dark.

Robin: how are you getting there.

Mari: a cab.

Batman gives her phone back

Mari: am I done here?

Batman nods

When mari is leaving...

Batman: Hood, Robin keep an eye on her and makes sure she gets to her destination safe. We're going back to the cave to look more into this.

When mari gets out of the cab. She feels like she's being watched and followed. Discretely looks around trying to spot who's following her. (ladybug sense is tingling~) She shifts her katana to her hip just in case. While going to her apartment. And instantly locks the door and checks the windows. Wonders if they followed her... Then she spots Robin on the neighboring building.

Mari: ah... Its just them... Welp I'm off to bed.

--------------------------

Robin POV

Robin: She knows she's being followed.

Redhood: I'm not blind demon spawn.

They watch her enter her apartment while on guard.

Redhood: one of us should probably pass by her window. Just to let her know we're not goons. Pixi looks wound up...

Robin: ill do it.

He swings by her window. They guessed right. She was keeping watch.

Robin: something isn't right...

Redhood: no shit sherlock.

Robin over the comm: she's in. We're heading back to the cave.

----------------------------------

Batcave

-Siren, Gigantitan, Hero's day, mourning star (saw this in a fanfiction somewhere. Its a sad one)

Redhood: Holy shit...

Batman: How did we miss this?

Red Robin: found a call on the JL emergency call log.

Batman: play it.

Video call from Ryuuko on Hero's day. Showing the chaos, requesting for help, getting controlled, dropping the phone and walking away.

Batman: who answered this call?

Red Robin:.... Green Lantern

Robin: wait... Scroll up... Its the girl from the airport.

They play the mourning star akuma video.

Mourning star: a widow that had a miscarriage. Mourning the death of her husband and unborn child. The akuma kidnapping children and killing them infront of their mothers. So that they know the pain of losing a child. (I know it's depressing... I found this in a fanfiction. Forgot the title. And it was way more depressing than what I just wrote...) (ill skip this bit)

Marinette getting children to safety. Away from the akuma. Calming them down and getting them to hide in an abandoned building. Distracts the akuma by pissing it of and luring her away from the nearby preschool. (she's badass both in and out of the suit) then suddenly transforms into a mouse themed hero while on the run. Divides herself into smaller selves. And splits up each going down different alleyways. (she never becomes multimouse again after this: she got compromised again. Let's just say that she staged this bit to get halkmoth off her trail... In case he suspected her of being LB). Then not long after Chat noir shows up looking for LB. When LB finally shows up... He starts flirting and causing even more trouble. Akuma gets caught. Butterfly gets purified. Magical ladybugs fixing everything and LB punching Chat in the face. The end.

Redhood: he had that coming.

Robin: She was a hero? Are there others?

Redhood: why? Got a crush~?

Robin: *blush* no.

Red Robin: found one. Evillustrator. CCTV footage...

CCTV: Evillustrator breaking into the top floor of a bakery. Then leaving. Chat Noir showing up. Marinette answering the door. Chat Noir flirting. Marinette sarcastic acting. More chat noir flirting. He leaves. Fast forward. She leaves the bakery all dressed up (Robin's thaughts: she looks cute... WHAT THE FUCK BRAIN!!!! NO!) (I changed it a bit hehehe)

They shift to different CCTVs until she gets to her destination. Meeting up with the akuma (Redhood: what the hell... She went on a date with an akuma?) (Red Robin: wait look... Chat Noir) (Robin: *clenching his teeth and fists*) chat noir sneaking on the boat. And laying low. Mari snatching something and throwing it at chat. Chat messed-up. Mari gets trapped with chat in a glass box with the boat sinking. Chat trying to find a way to get out of the box. Mari just standing there until she gets fed up. Grabs the baton and extends it upward while grabbing chat noir's tail/belt and flinging him towards the pier. Gives back his baton. Chat flirts again. Kisses her hand then salutes. Mari turns away of cam. (Nightwing: did that count as a date?) (Redhood: yes) (Red Robin: no) (Robin's thaughts: strong, beautiful, smart, tricky ... Just what else do you have under your belt... Shit I called her beautiful...) (Batman: follow chat noir)

Shifting again to other CCTVs. Stopping on one viewing a hotel. Chat and Ladybug already on the scene. Doesn't take long after that for the battle to end.

Batman: we need to keep looking more into this...but right now. I'm going to the tower. And deal with Green Lantern.

-----------------

-after this Robin makes sure to make Marinette's apartment to be part of his patrol route.

-Mari notices but doesn't try to call him over.

-he observes her and finds more things about her. (a designer, a gamer, a Baker and if her katana and fighting skills is anything to go by... Judo?)

-Mari knows that she's being observed so she makes sure the kwamis are hidden.

One night she decides to embroider on her balcony.

-curious... Robin comes closer to take a peek at what she was making... A dragon embroidery.

Mari: are you going to stay there or are you going to come down here and tell me what you need?

Robin:.... This place is part of my patrol route....

Mari: I noticed but I don't believe that that's all your here for.

Robin:...... you're one of the heroes...

Mari:........ *she looks at him* ex-hero... Retired hero??.... Who cares. I've been compromised.

Robin: I know... But it looked on purpose.

Mari:....... What do you want? Did you need something?

Robin:....... I don't trust you..... Your confusing...

Mari: I'd be worried if you did. Trusting people you just meet... Not a smart move.

Robin:.........

Mari:........ Anything else?

Robin: No. I'll be on my way.

Mari: wait hold on a second... Here (she gives him the extra macaroons she made) I'm a stress Baker. I made too much.

Robin:....... I thaught that we agreed that we didn't trust each other....

Mari: I don't. Not completely. But I also know your not a bad person. Protective sure. But that's to be expected considering your cutrent occupation...... Just take it.... You've been observing me the past few days. You should know by now that I'm not a horrible person...here I'll even take one. (she takes one and pops it in her mouth) see? Safe.

Robin: fine I'll take them to the idiots........thanks.......(then he leaves)

Mari: hmm... Now back to work...

---------------------

Keeps going on like this for the next few months.

Until its time for the new school year to start....

(I'm sleepy right now. I'll continue this tomorrow. I'll edit this same post. I won't be making it separate)

#daminette #Introvert marinette #maribat #mlb x dc

[stressedoutcanary]

Hold On - Jason Todd x Batgirl!Reader [PART 2]

WORD COUNT :- 2.3k

Warnings ⚠️: I don't even know if there are any...Swearing maybe?, mentions of kidnappings, actual kidnapping oh and also violence and angst :)

A/N 😋: I got lost while writing this so judge accordingly people. Also forgive me for any mistakes. I TRIED.

Part 1 , Part 3

•°•°•°•°

“JASON STOP!!!!!”, your voice echoed in the silent warehouse.

Jason stopped in his tracks as soon as he heard your voice, his mind was brimming with thoughts, questions and worst of all, emotions.

“Well, well, well, look who crawled out of her little cave”, He said smugly as he finally turned around to face you. The voice was his, you’d recognize that voice anywhere but it felt cold, devoid of emotions, hearing him like that sent a shiver up your spine. You could feel your determination slipping.

Even though you had your cowl on, Jason could still see how much his rampage was hurting you but he couldn’t stop now, not when all he had left to do was to capture Joker, beat the living shit out of that asshole and show Bruce how much of a failure Batman’s moral compass really is.

“Well? Got nothing to say now?... Why am I not surprised?”, Jason scoffed.

You took a deep breath, you were breaking down inside but you sure as hell weren’t going to let that stop you. You spoke, voice barely above a whisper,  “Jason...Jay...Stop all this...Please, come home, come back to the--”

“Manor? Home? Did you hit your head (Y/N)? Why in the hell would I ever go back to a place where NOBODY GAVE A DAMN ABOUT ME, WHERE HE REPLACED ME AS IF I MEANT NOTHING?!”, Jason didn’t want to lose control of himself, not in front of you. So with visible effort he calmed himself down, took a step forward and gave you a deadpan look.

“You all left me”

Your blood boiled at that statement.

“How dare you?! We lost you! We mourned for you! I mourned for you!”

Tears welled up in your eyes, listening to him you wondered whether he truly believed the words actually coming out of his own mouth.

“The Jason I knew was a roughed up street boy who still cared when many didn't, who called Bruce out every step of the way, who had this ridiculous favoritism for bread, who had the guts to take out a tire from the fricking Batmobile”, despite the dreadful situation you smiled remembering those sweet memories.

You looked him in the eye, pleading in a way, and you spoke softly, “The Jason I knew was The Robin to my Batgirl. This-this is just not who you are Jay, not really...So can you just stop?”

He looked unfazed by your words and cocked his head to the side.

“Princess, the only way you can stop me is if you fight me, knock me down real hard, make sure that I won't get back up again. Tell me Batgirl, can you do it? Do you actually have what it takes?”, he waited for an answer he knew wasn’t coming. As expected, all he was met with was silence.

Long, Painful Silence.

With that Jason knew what he had to do, he put on his red helmet and swung out of the nearest window, you couldn't stop him, for all your big talk, you just couldn't. He was right you failed him.

•°•°

You jumped awake with a start, bolting upright and immediately regretting your subconscious decision, the throbbing pain made you clutch the back of your head with your palm and you closed your eyes again to achieve some semblance of reality as a way of grounding yourself.

‘It was just a dream (Y/N)…just...a...dream’

You tried to lie to yourself knowing deep down that it was a memory, something you have already lived through, something you regret everyday. You swallowed the lump in your throat. It felt dry and your whole body was sore. You really should've called in early and then maybe Dick would've been the one stuck in this crapy situation and not you.

Pushing past your perplexed state you got up and took in your surroundings, there were vines hanging from the open roof, a LOT of flowers and some Venus flytraps by the corner. It wouldn’t even take being a detective to figure out where you were; The Botanical Gardens.

“How the hell did I end up here”, you muttered under your breath. This was getting out of hands.

“See Pammy I told ya Girl-Bat would rise and shine by now”

“I can see that Harls”

‘Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn, just great, is nobody in Arkham these days’

The duo descended down from the open roof through one of the vines and stood in front of you. Harley looked as happy as a 10 year old about to get their favorite toy and Ivy seemed to be interested in anything and everything that did not concern you. Classic.

“Why the hell did you both kidnap me?”

You jumped forward and grabbed Harley by the collar of her dress, in retrospect it wasn't the best move but it's not like you were thinking straight at the time anyway.

A vine wrapped itself around your waist and you were tugged back by such force that you were sure there was gonna be a big bruise there tomorrow. You skidded across the floor and finally stopped when your back connected with a bench. You were just too drained to fight back so instead you just crawled up and sat on the bench with a grunt.

‘Not fighting my way out of this one so for once let’s try talking’

“Whoa, should ya really be this obnoxious when ya got a concussion?”, Harley burst your thought bubble as she looked you over.

“Wait, Did you just call me obnoxious?!”

“But don'tcha worry I am a doctor and I got a PhD”

“In psychology!”

“I will fix ya in no time”

“Are you even listening to me?”

Just like that you saw Harley leave the room to go get some medical supplies, or well at least you thought that that's what she was going to do, you turned your face towards Ivy hoping that she can fill in the blanks.

“So you both finally done babbling? And here I thought it was never going to end.”, She looked at you from where she was petting her plant, and made her way over to you, something about her seemed genuine. You got the feeling that whatever she had to say, it won't be a lie.

“Try and not mind what Harley does, she's just happy to make new friends for girls night.” She sighed before continuing, “As for your question, last night we were near the Gotham Central Park when we saw a masked man dragging your unconscious body out of a building and into a van parked in the alley, so we kil-- we took care of him and brought you here”, She shrugged as if that explains why the Poison Ivy just saved your life.

"Wait that means Red isn't here", you whispered more to yourself than to others.

“Pam is Red!”, Harley said cheerfully as she came back out nowhere with a bunch of boxes which would've made you very uneasy if your mind wasn't already preoccupied.

“What Harley means to say is that if you are trying to ask about that gun loving leather jacket vigilante who wears a red helmet, then no we don't know where he is”

Her words sunk in and yesterday's memories flashed in your mind, your eyes widened under your mask as the realization hit you like a bus.

The missing people, the creepy mannequins, the medical journals regarding surgeries, the weirdo in the white mask instead of a face, the poster of some Pretty Dolls parlor; Now it all makes sense!

“Pyg!”

"Huh?", the women in front of you almost jumped at your sudden revelation.

“Lazlo Valentin aka Professor Pyg that's the son of a bitch who is behind all this mess, he's the one who has got Red Hood And it's all my fault! Now, He might be dead already! I should've known, I-I should've figured it out quicker, I should've done something, DAMN IT!!”, you buried you face in your hands due to the building frustration within you.

“Don't be like that”, you heard Harley's voice as a hand was placed on your shoulder, she sat down on the bench next to you, you turned your head and eyed her warily, seeing nothing but concern.

“Don't give up. Clearly this Hoodie person means a lot to ya so you get off your ass and go get him, don't you Bat People always find a way”, you looked at her for a moment, then jumped up on your feet.

“Can't believe I am saying this but you are right Harley, I need go and I will find a way to save him, but before leaving I wanna know something”, you looked Ivy in the eyes as you worded your next sentence, “Why save me?”

“It was just my way of replaying you for saving Harls from that clown once”, instead of elaborating Ivy just crossed her hands over her chest waiting for you to leave. You gave her a warm smile, something they are not used to seeing, from a bat of all people.

“Thank you Pamela”

With that you were out of that detour and onto finding the path leading up to Jason.

•°•°

Somehow you reached the safe house without running into some kind of trouble, with how your day has been going, you were completely expecting something else to go wrong. Thankfully it didn't. You took out a spare comms unit, keys for your bike and some aspirin to dull the headache.

Soon you were whizzing past vehicles at full speed triying to contact anyone available at the moment.

“Come on pick up, pick up, pick up! What's the meaning of giving us an emergency button when no one picks the damn thing up”, you spoke into a dead line, wishing you could just bang your head against a wall, on second thought not a good idea.

Two minutes later the call was finally picked up and a screen appeared on the dash of your bike, it was from the batcave and you could see Dick, Damian and Bruce in sitting in front of the computer, Tim was connected from what you assumed to be the titans tower. However Dick was the first one to pop the question.

“(Y/N) what's the emergency? Are you okay? We haven't heard from you since last night”

“Look no time to explain. Jason's been taken by Pyg and I need you guys to give me a location. Now”, you said gritting your teeth as you narrowly missed a truck for the second time this evening.

“Todd's captured? *tt* his incompetence precedes that of Drake”, Damian's snarky remark made Tim snap his head up.

“Hey!”

“Boys”, Bruce's stern voice made them quiet enough for the time being, “Batgirl you are injured and your emotions can compromise the whole rescue, go back to the safe house and let us handle this”, Bruce ended the transmission and it made you angry.

'He said that they are going to handle it, that means they know where he is, so now all I have to do is to get Dick to spill it out'

You dialed Dick back, hoping he would understand what you are trying to do.

“I know why you specifically choose to call me back and No I am not letting you go head first into danger without any of us with you especially when you are compromised”, Dick's tone was stern but laced with concern.

“Dick the last time Bruce said he will handle it, Jason died, look I know what he is trying to say, I get him, I can't blame him for wanting to look after me but you have to understand I have to be the one to get him back”

“Why?!”

“Because I can't lose him again! The last thing that I said to him was that I might never forgive him! Never forgive him for something that's not even his fault! You are my only hope at getting him back, please don't take that away from me, please”, you pleaded with him as you slowed down the bike to a stop.

The line was silent for a while, the thought about saying more to him crossed your mind; what you are feeling about Jason, how much he matters to you, how you've failed him more than once, but ultimately decided against it and instead you just waited for his reply.

You deflated as soon as you realized that the line was cut but the ping of a notification caught your attention; The map to the possible location of Jason.

“Dick Grayson, you big softie”, you smirked, your bike roared as you made your way on to the free way heading fast towards the Gotham outskirts.

Meanwhile at Professor Pyg's 'supervillain headquarters' :

Jason slowly woke up, assessing the situation he quickly came to the conclusion that he messed up and now he is tied up to what seems like dentist's chair.

“Great, there has got to be a new record I've set in this family for messing up and getting kidnapped”, Jason muttered under his breath, he tried to tug at his restraints to get free but it turned out to be fruitless. A blinding light was switch on above him and he grunted due to the intensity.

“Man, what is up with you people and light?! Turn it off already!”, Jason said as he tried to adjust his eyes accordingly, when he came to, he was met with his captor himself.

Jason just stared at the man in front, moving towards him, wearing a pig mask and holding a butcher knife. He has seen enough crazy but this guy might just rival the Joker himself.

“Pyg know you broken. Pyg make you perfect”

“WHAT THE F--”

°•°•°•°•

(I like to think I am funny)

Cute little extra note: Yes it is the second time I'm leaving you guys hanging and NOPE I do not regret my decision.

Tagging: @ladyperceval

#jason todd reader insert #red hood reader insert #batgirl!reader imagine #jason todd x y/n #red hood x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x y/n #red hood imagines #red hood imagine #jason todd imagines #jason todd imagine #jason todd x batgirl!reader #red hood x batgirl!reader #jason todd #red hood #batfamily

[ketchupqueenboiiii]

Black Cat and Desert Flower

'Kaldur, what are we doing in Paris? We finished the mission, we should be heading back home.' Said Robin, via mind-link.

'Patience, my friends, I arranged for us to have a day in the city. A vacation, if you will.' Aqualad said to the team.

'Kaldur, I don't know if you noticed but it's night.' Kid Flash was also getting impatient.

'Why are we standing under a bridge with a bunch of locks on it?' Superboy asked. He hated not knowing things.

After busting a minor league drug ring in Versailles they expected to relax in the Bioship until the arrived back in the US, not stand under a bridge.

'Can you at least tell what we need 'patience' for-' Kid Flash whined until he was interrupted by a voice.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my city?" The voice was like steel. In a way it sounded like Batman's. Not in sound, but in its tone of command. It sounded young and feminine.

'Brace your selves.' Said Robin, hands inching towards his tool belt.

'There are 6 of them. Should we attack?' Superboy adds.

'No. These are friends.' Aqualad sounded completely at ease. It would have calmed them if he wasn't always calm and collected.

Before they could refute he walked into the moonlight. They heard the voice take in a sharp breathe. So they recognized them, maybe it will prevent a fight.

"I am no less than a black cat." What? The team had no idea how this conversation took such a turn. What was she saying?

"And I am no more than a desert flower." What was their leader saying? It must have meant something because the voice squealed and a figure clad in red and black polka dots came barreling at him.

'Stand down.' He sound completely unbothered. How could he be so whelmed?

'But she's-' One tried to reason.

'Stand down, she is a friend.' He sounded, breathless? Something was going on, maybe M'gann should do a scan of his mind when they get back.

The force of the girl's impact knocked them both over. They were both smiling, eyes never straying from each others. They got a clear view to analyze the girl. She look developed and fit, but still pretty small. She shouldn't have been able to knock down a door, let alone a military trained Atlantean. Was this a secret Kryptonian?

"You're, you're here," she sounded out of breath, though clearly out of amazement rather than the run. "Oh kwami, it's been to long. Is Roy here too?" How did she know Roy? Did she know all of their civilian I.D.s?

"Sadly no, Speedy is not here. But my team and I are." He said as they stood up. They could see exactly what she was wearing. A red and black skin tight body suit with a open black leather jacket and a hood. The bodysuit was red down to her navel and black the rest of the way. Each of her palms had a black circle with a unknown ideogram in red on them. Her shoes were black army boots with red laces. So she has a theme.

She moved her gaze behind Aqualad to look at the team. They took note of her mask. Her hood covered her forehead and her eyebrows, and she wore a mask connected to her body suit that cover everything nose and down.  Leaving only her eyes exposed.

"Aqualad, who is she?" Artemis asked, hands already itching towards her arrows.

"Team, this is Ladybug. Ladybug, this is the team." He introduced, stepping away to allow them to assess each other.

"It's an honor to meet you all, Aqualad has spoken fondly of all of you. Welcome to Paris." She greeted professionally.

No one returned her greeting. They looked to Aqualad for more context.

He then gestured to Ladybug to speak. "You're probably confused as to who I am. I'm Ladybug, one of the heroes of Paris. We surfaced to reclaim a misused ancient magic artifact."

"Who is we?" Robin asked.

"Well, I realized that one city to one hero wasn't an equal ratio. So I formed a team to take some of the responsibility. Bunnix, Carapace, would you like to introduce yourselves?" A woman with an umbrella jumped from the top of the bridge and a man walked out from the shadow behind Ladybug. Both taller than her. Based on their themes, the man was Carapace and the woman was Bunnix.

"Sure thing, Boss." They said in unison and with exaggerated bows and salutes.

"Good Kwami, don't call me that." She said, pinching her nose.

"Our deepest apologies, Master. We beg your forgiveness." They spoke in unison again and with straight faces, too.

"God damn it, I'm not even fully trained-" She was interrupted by poorly muffled laughter behind her.

"Singe, you've been doing this for 3 years, and you still manage to reveal your presence in almost every situation-" Robin felt like he should interrupt before this escalates.

"Is that an umbrella?" He genuinely wanted to know.

"Are you judging? 'Cause, you shouldn't judge since you spent a year or so running around Gotham in green panties and a pole." Robin blushed in embarrassment. The team looked ready to fight these so called heroes.

"Ryu!" Ladybug reprimanded, looking affronted. Wait, Bunnix didn't say it? Then, who did?

"I'm so sorry about her. They're all really defensive about the umbrella." Okay?

"Who spoke then?" Kid Flash asked, still looking all little miffed about the comment.

"You know, Aqualad, there's enough of us for a spar." She said smirking, and ignoring Kid's question.

"If we're sparring, I want a few minutes with who ever said that stuff about Robin." He said glaring in no particular direction.

"Actually, I was thinking we do a group spar. Aqualad's team versus mine."  She suggested.

No one seemed to be against it.

"Okay then, prepare yourselves-" Aqualad started.

"Wait! I have to call of Pegasus." She brought her hand up to her ear and looked toward a building.

"Woah-woah-woah, hold up, you have a sniper?!" Kid Flash exclaimed, speedily looking around to see them.

"You have to be prepared for anything." She responded after finishing her comm-call.

"Yeah, but still, you have a sniper-"

A turquois portal appeared and a white-haired man in a brown leather bodysuit stepped out of it. His hair was held back in vertical braids gathered in a ponytail. He also wore pitch black sunglasses, even though it was the middle of the night.

"Hello." He greeted the teams before walking to stand next to Bunnix and Singe.

"Let's get ready to spar." Aqualad announced, walking not-to-subtlety towards Ladybug. The teams both walked of to strategize.

"You sure your ready to fight me again? It's been a couple months since our last spar." She quipped with pop of her hip and challenging smirk.

"If my memory is correct, you were the one with the losing streak." He smiled back with his patented sass.

"We'll see about that." They shared eye contact and a firm hand shake.

With a quick turn of a heel, "Formation!"

Bonus #1

For more context: Mari and Kaldur were not always this touchy feely. Mari spent a year or so out of Paris to train for Guardian purposes. She would have cataclysm herself before leaving Paris alone. But Tikki and Plagg convinced her that she was unstable with all of the guardian power and she would have to learn to control it. Outside of Paris. So they decided to give out the miraculous and have the new team pass around Tikki and she would take Plagg out of Paris (too many billboards and Plagg wasn't good at emotions).

So she was backpacking America, trying to find someone to help her. Unfortunately someone found her. Namely Aquaman and his partner.  Interrogating her just left them both offended.

But she did learn that she was now fluent in ancient languages, like the guardian language and Atlantean.

("What are you doing here?"

"That's not your problem."

"You sunk Atlantis! Of course it's our concern!"

"You Atlantean's think you're entitled to everything. That's why Plagg sunk your city."

"{In Atlantean} My King, should we take her to Poseidonis-"

"{in Atlantean} Excuse me, but I'm not going anywhere other than out of this cell."

"{In English} How do you-"

They call in the JL for backup and try to interrogate her, until Diana vetoes and pardons her. She offers to take her to Themyscira and train but Arthur vetoes that so now she's going to train with Roy and Kaldur. [Because they are the oldest and I believe that they worked together most pre-canon YJs1.]

{Whispers and Glares}"Atlantean bitch."

{Whispers and Glares} "Guardian scum.")

5 months and numerous fights later, Roy was tired friendTM of their shit and sat them down to make them talk. They spoke of both versions of the Sinking of Atlantis and came to the agreement that Plagg was sorry for taking things too far and that modern Atlanteans could not be blamed for the mistakes of one of their selfish past monarchs. [king whoever tried to use Plagg's miraculous to conquer and terrorize neighboring kingdoms, so in retaliation Plagg cataclysmed the entire country/city]

After getting over that they both realized, 'Hey, he/she's actually pretty cool."

Everyone kept in touch after she went back to Paris and bitched to each other about teammates and leadership and how it's, quote-unquote, 'unfair that it's legal for Mari to drink but not Roy'

I'm not good with timelines so I'm going to say that, Kaldur still has hopes for him and Tula, Mari's not entertaining anything more than friendship (no distractions), and Roy is too focused on teenaged rebellion.

#maribat #kaldinette #kaldur'ahm x marinette #reposted on ao3 and wattpad

[scarlct-vvitch]

angat prompt: "you're bleeding." - superbat 👀

The idea Bruce had proposed to Clark had been pretty simple: camp out on the highest stack of shipping crates they can find (or on top of the crane used to move them, if needed), wait until the targets showed up to make their trade (maybe twenty-five of them), and take them out. Gotham doesn’t need any more weapons.

It was supposed to be simple. It was supposed to be guns in the crates, with bullets that would bounce right off of Superman’s invulnerable chest. It was supposed to be no trouble for Metropolis’ favorite hero.

The crates weren’t supposed to be full of kryptonite.

The crates were full of kryptonite.

Bruce realizes it too late; he had sent the signal for Clark to fly down the second the crate was unlocked, hadn’t seen the eerie green glow until half a second too late.

He watches as Clark realizes, freezes, tries to fly the other direction, but it’s too late. Bruce watches as he falters mid-air before he crashes to the ground and struggles back up to his knees as the smugglers realize they’re not alone. Bruce tries to will gravity to move faster as he leaps down.

It’s chaos from the second his feet hit the concrete.

He takes down the first goon he reaches by grabbing the back of his head and slamming it into his armored knee; the man crumples. From there, it’s more shouting, more movement as the goons can’t decide if they want to scatter or fight. 

In the end, only about six or seven leave, which leaves Bruce with nearly twenty to deal with largely by himself. He risks a glance at Clark as he ducks under a punch. Clark’s on his feet, but barely, and three of the goons surround him with guns.

“Get the shit from the crate!” one of them shouts.

Bruce swears and lands his next punch hard, send the guy flat on his back. He turns to try and make his way to Clark, but five more block his path, all pointing weapons at him.

Bruce takes a moment, steadies himself. He will get to Clark before it’s too late--there is no other option.

He breathes, flexes his fingers, and dives in.

The first shot, he dodges easily, feigning left and knocking the gun out of the guy’s grip and sending it clattering to the floor before he punches him in the throat. He ducks under the next and sends out a kick to sweep his attacker’s legs out from under him. Two down.

He sends a batarang whistling through the air at the next, hearing it make a wet sound as it sticks in his bicep. The fourth he crowds, giving a quick one-two into his gut before he finishes him off with a blow to the nose. He turns to face the last when he hears Clark make a pained noise behind him.

Bruce whirls to see Clark doing his best to fend off the woman wielding an unnaturally green dagger. But hand-to-hand isn’t Clark’s strong suit, and he knows it; he’s the cannonball to Bruce’s sniper shot.

Bruce whirls just in time to see the woman dodge his punch and send the knife straight into his ribs.

Clark’s face twists in pain--dully, Bruce wonders if he’s ever been stabbed before--and he uses the little strength he has left to slam his arm into hers, and Bruce sees the bone snap before she screams.

Bruce’s world narrows until all he can see is Clark, crumpling to the ground, pressing his hand over the wound as best he can.

In an act of desperation, he grabs every smoke bomb, flash grenade, every distracting thing he has on his belt, and sets them off all at once. The air fills with smoke and light, and Bruce runs straight through it as the goons try and cover their eyes. He gets to Clark, scrapes him off the ground as best he can, and makes a run for it.

Clark grunts in his arms but manages to try and hold onto him. There’s shouting behind them as the smoke starts to clear. Bruce runs faster, just barely makes it out of sight before they get their vision back.

He crouches behind a crate and slaps a hand over Clark’s mouth to keep him quiet. He keeps them pressed into the shadows as best he can. He’s almost certain they’re going to be caught.

By some miracle, a minute passes. Two.

They must have decided the shipment was worth more than Superman’s head.

Bruce lets himself breathe a bit, turns so he can get a better look at Clark, who’s gone pale. It makes Bruce’s blood run cold. He gently peels Clark’s hand away from the wound.

“You’re bleeding,” Bruce says dumbly. As if they didn’t know.

“Really?” Clark retorts, but his voice is thin.

“Shut up,” Bruce snaps. “How do I help you?”

Clark tries to shift positions and winces. “Not much we can do. It’s dark out.”

“What are you, a plant?” Bruce quips. He yanks a piece of gauze out of his belt and starts pressing it into the wound. Clark winces, again.

“Maybe,” Clark says. He watches as Bruce briefly pulls out his phone and presses his panic button, the one that tells Alfred to send someone to him, fast. 

They’re both quiet for a moment, Bruce trying to assess their next move and Clark trying to not bleed out. Bruce breaks it with a sigh.

“I’m sorry. I should have waited before I sent you in.”

Clark makes a sad attempt at a shrug. “’s fine. I’ll live. Probably.”

“You’ll live, Clark,” Bruce says firmly. “It’s not fine. I should have--I should have known better.”

“It’s okay, Br--Batman,” Clark corrects, because even when he’s dying, he refuses to say his name on a mission, even if Bruce just did it to him.

“I should have waited. There’s no excuse for--Clark? Clark,” Bruce says, because Clark’s eyes have started to flutter closed. Bruce shakes him, not caring if it hurts. “Clark.”

Clark struggles to stay awake. “Shit, sorry,” he says, words slurring a bit.

“Stay awake,” Bruce says, because he can’t lose Clark, he won’t lose Clark. “You’re going to be okay.”

“Yeah, sure,” Clark says loftily. His eyes are closing again.

“No,” Bruce says desperately. “No, Clark, Clark--you have to stay awake.”

He presses harder on the gauze, hopes with every inch of his being that someone can show up and save him. Save Clark.

Clark’s eyes are closing. He needs to keep Clark awake with something. Anything. 

“Clark, please,” he tries. Nothing. “Clark, wake up.”

Nothing. Bruce is going to lose him.

If he is going to lose someone else, it is not going to be until he has done everything he possibly can to save them.

In one final act of desperation, Bruce hooks his fingers into Clark’s costume and hauls him up, smashing their lips together.

He feels Clark jolt beneath him, feels him being yanked back to consciousness. He puts everything he has into the kiss, willing Clark to stay alive with teeth and tongue. It’s messy and tastes vaguely of gunpowder and blood.

The kiss ends after who-knows-how-long, tilting his forehead against Clark’s. “You’re not allowed to die, Clark.”

He hears clanking behind him, something crashing into metal. He turns just in time to see Diana land next to him so hard the concrete cracks. The breath he lets out is so full of relief he almost passes out.

She moves immediately to Clark, scooping him up from under Bruce. She takes a flying leap and they’re gone, off somewhere sunny, Bruce is sure. He glances down at his bloody hands.

Clark is going to be okay. Clark is going to be okay. He’s alive. He will continue to do so. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay.

He’s definitely going to ask him about the kiss, Bruce realizes.

Maybe not completely okay, then. But Bruce will take it.

#oh my lord this got so long #but i hope you enjoy it! #answered #request #my writing #superbat #angst #superman #batman #bruce wayne #clark kent #dc #dceu #no one dies i promise #but someone gets close #i need more practice with angst #anywho enjoy #themadkatter13

[soulmate-game]

Not related to any other prompts

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Day 4: Habits

Not screwed~

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette swung through the Gotham streets, shadows playing over her maroon-and-black biker’s jacket and the occasional street light glinting off of the chunky maroon goggles she used to obscure her identity.

“Help!”

A quick change of course with her yo-yo, and the teen was hurtling in a new direction. One black-gloved hand came up to touch the spot on her specialized goggles that covered her ear, protecting it from not only weapons but also anything that might utilize sound against her.

“I’m deviating. Two streets to the north, woman yelling for help. Checking it out.”

It also doubled as her communicators.

A click sounded in her ear, admitting the professional, clipped voice of Oracle. “Copy that. I’m gonna see if I can get a look for you first— aha. Barely in view of a street cam. Looks legit, I can only see two aggressors though. Might be more out of sight. Sending Batman your way just in case, Ladybird.”

Marinette grinned, landing silently on a rooftop. As quickly yet quietly as she could, she snuck over to the ledge. “This is my first patrol with you guys, but I’m no amateur,” she retorted softly before peering over the edge of the building. Immediately, she scowled. “Shit. Trafficking ring, most likely. I’m counting eleven hostiles, five women tied up. They just knocked out the one that I heard.”

“Good thing I sent Batman. ETA three minutes.”

Marinette nodded, reaching up to turn the volume on her comms down so that it wouldn’t distract her too much before jumping down. Three minutes was enough time for her to start to make a dent without being in too much danger of something happening before her backup could arrive. Considering this was her first time in Gotham, nobody was quite expecting a tiny woman in a maroon and black motorcycle jacket, maroon high tech goggles that curled around her entire head, and knee-high black boots with charcoal gray armor down the front to land on their leader’s shoulder and knock him out with a yo-yo to the head.

But also, this was Gotham. They shouldn’t have been surprised, either.

Leader down, Marinette focused her attention on the guys that were the most heavily armed, bringing out a second yo-yo to speed up her progress. She was three thugs down and in the middle of swinging a rifle away from its owner when a familiar large shadow dropped down to join her.

The appearance of the Bat garnered much more fear, forcing the traffickers to panic and lose a lot of their combative edge. Seeing as Batman was fresher for the fight than she was, Marinette decided to take a pseudo-break to get the women a little farther from the action. She was just pulling the sixth girl, the one she had heard scream, over to the group when one of the few remaining conscious thugs snuck up behind her, gun aimed and finger on the trigger.

But Marinette was faster, having heard the guy scramble to get behind her. She spun, kicking the pistol out of his hand and grabbing it out of the air. Not having the time to grab her yo-yos from off of her hip, she adjusted her grip and slammed the handle of the gun against the guy’s head before tossing the weapon away. It was too much of a risk for misfire if she tried that move again, once was already risky. The guy shook his head, staggering back with nothing but rage and desperation fueling him as he tried again to land a hit on the small vigilante.

Marinette dodged, burying her fist in his gut. The man retched, but swallowed his vomit and tried again. Marinette sidestepped his sloppy attack and slammed an elbow on his back, forcing him to collapse to the ground. She could see he was still awake though, and scrambling for another weapon. So Ladybird raised her foot, prepared to give the guy one last hit to knock him out.

But she was yanked back by a firm hand on her shoulder, upsetting her balance just enough to make her put both feet solidly on the ground and half her attack. She whipped her head back, seeing that it was, indeed, Batman who had stopped her.

All the other thugs were out and restrained.

“Justice, not vengeance,” Batman grumbled as soon as she looked at him. Marinette barely bit back a squeak of frustration, ripping her shoulder away and slamming her foot down just in time to stop the guy from stabbing into her boot. The steel toe would have protected her, but still.

“Batman, he has a knife!” She growled right back at him, finally landing that kick and knocking him out. “I really appreciate that faith, you know. Thinking I’m gonna cross the line in such a simple situation,” she snapped back at him sarcastically, making sure he saw her furrowed brows even through her goggles before crouching down to tie the guy up with her zip ties.

“Sorry,” he grumbled after all the victims had been taken by the ambulance and the criminals by the police. They stood on a rooftop, ladybird staring down at the towering figure of Batman with her arms crossed. “It’s a habit.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” she replied, shaking her head. “I’m not Damian.”

Batman sighed, crossing his own arms. Unknowingly, that caused the two of them to be holding the exact same pose, down to the very position of shoulder blades and feet, as one another. Twins of differing height, to an outsider. A parent and his child, to anyone who was closer.

“I know that—“

“And Damian isn’t Damian Al-Ghul anymore either,” she interrupted him, finally dropping her arms to take a few steps forward. “He’s well and truly Damian Wayne. It’s been seven years since he was that abused, hurt, ultra-violent ten year old that he was when Talia first dropped him off with you. The fact that stopping him in mid fight like that is still a habit to you is a problem.”

Batman slowly exhaled through his nose, trying to remain patient with the daughter he had only had in his life for the past three years. He didn’t want to make the same mistakes with her that he made with the others, but just like always he somehow found something new to screw up.

“I haven’t had to say it to him often. Hardly at all in recent years. But seeing you looming over a man who was already on the ground brought back that reflex.”

Marinette nodded, but her jaw didn’t unclench. “It’s been more than a few times,” she told him softly. “Damian tells me, ever since we got closer. He tells me when you have to stop yourself from pulling him back. When you bark his name before seeing that he wasn’t going to use lethal force at all. You need to realize that Damian hasn’t taken a single life in six years. He hasn’t caused permanent injury unless absolutely necessary— a total of three times in twice as many years. You need to nip this habit of yours in the bud, now,” she took a few more steps forward, so that she was only inches away as she glared straight up at his face.

“We are both your blood children, but you have only apologized to me about the way you acted tonight. One day, your lack of trust in Damian could get him killed— again. You call out his name too early, and you could startle him or give his opponent the shock they need to make a sudden attack that Damian won’t be able to parry. You grabbing him and pulling him back can stop him from, like me, knocking out an opponent who is still fighting. Unlike me though, his opponent could have a gun. Or a remote to a worse weapon. He could use those seconds you just gave him to take Damian away from us again,” Marinette stopped, shaking her head and taking a deep breath.

“If you’re gonna have us work with you, you need to trust our judgement. If you want us to be a family, then you need to trust us. Period.” With that, Marinette jumped off the side of the building and swung away, leaving her father standing there with a lot to think about.

—*—*—*—*—*

Short, but angsty! I wrote this in an hour, don’t @ me. I took a thirty minute break for a late dinner.

@momothefemur @ladybug-182 @starlightshield @trippingovermyfeet @greatcatblaze @sam-i-am-0222 @bluesimani @ruelukas22 @acoolspacegirl @iamablinkmarvelarmy

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #b!dbwm2020 #bio dad bruce wayne #day four #platonic daminette #platonic brucinette

[marisandini-chu-blog]

Bruce Wayne is a Simp for Bad Bitch

OmG I can’t believe I’m writing the obvious but the idea is in my head and I need a place to word vomit. 

Okay, so it occurred to me that Bruce has a more serious and intense relationship canonically with three women, as far as I know; Andrea Beaumont, Talia Al’ghul, and Selina Kyle. All of whom are the epitome of Bad Bitch with the capital B. (Yes, I’m ignoring Rachel Dawes from Nolanverse. The only thing I like about it is the Iconic Joker. No batman movie is good enough without the Batfam.) 

Why do I raise this point, you might ask? Well, that’s because I want to rant that Bruce, my boy, my man, my childhood comfort character is actually a SIMP?!?!

Like... I’m just... urgh.... okay... I am very vocal for a healthy relationship with commitment and based on mutual love and respect. So the fact that Bruce has only bad, iffy, or casual relationships really want to tear my hair out. And why my heart don’t want to ship with any of them, even though BatCat is one of my favorite pairing! 

I am a WonderBat shipper because I love watching them in JLAU as a kid and even though I’m not slash shipper unless it’s canon, SuperBat made much more sense to me. Heck even a threesome with the Trinity would have been healthier relationship rather than whatever Bruce had with the three of them and here’s why: 

You might not have heard of Andrea, but she’s canon from the Timmverse movie called Batman and the Mask of Phantasm which is A REALLY GREAT MOVIE. Totally recommend. One of the best Batman movie at all times (Yes, I say Batman movies not Batman Animated movies). Has great plot twist and good pacing. so Spoiler Alert! Andrea was Bruce’s fiancé, making her possibly Bruce’s first love, before his journey and possibly could have stop him from becoming Batman (I would say he’s a simp in this case, but he would have had a much more happier, healthy household so it’s not bad thing) if she hadn’t disappear for being a Mob Boss’ Daughter!!! 

I repeat, a mob boss’ daughter. 

And she came back only to be a mask avenging assassin that went toe-to-toe with Batman.

And she could have choose to stay with Bruce but she didn’t because she choose vengeance over him. Like.... Bats, you should stop with the “I am Vengeance” routine you’ve got going on because she does it better than you ngl. 

So she left and I cried at the end of that movie because trauma wasn’t enough, you put heartbreak after heartbreak to my boy. Thanks DC. 

Then there’s Fucking Talia Al’ghul which is a no brainer why she’s not Bad but BAD. Like, Talia groom Jason, supervise Damian’s harsh, brutal, and abusive training, control Damian through the implant spine to kill Dick, orders Damian execution before regretting it, DRUG BRUCE when CONCEIVING DAMIAN!!! And that’s only the top of my head. 

And if you want to blame it on Morrison’s writing, THAT’S FINE. We’ve bitched about Tom King’s writing enough to know it’s valid. 

But, BUT, bUt... it needs to be address that even before Morrison, Talia CHOOSE to stay in the League of Assassin. People can tell me that she’s a complex character that’s loyal to her father but love Bruce and that her upbringing makes her complicated or whatever. Nuh-uh. You don’t get to make Talia helpless when it suited you. Talia is a fucking Bad Bitch (TM). She’s been taught to do whatever the fuck she wants according to her belief and ideal. At some point, Talia knew she wanted to be in position of power in the League rather than staying with Bruce. 

But it’s canon that Talia, if I remember correctly, doesn’t like Gotham or Bruce’s mission. She thinks being a hero is beneath them or whatever. And doesn’t understand why Gotham is special to Bruce. So yeah, you might not agree how Morrisons write her. But do not fucking tell me she’s not a character who will not be willing to do what she thinks it’s necessary to get what she wants, including training her son as an assassin. I mean, she likes being the Demon’s Daughter in the league. She may not agree with her father but Talia wants to give Damien what she wants. Power.  

Talia loves Bruce. That’s a fact. He’s probably the only person that makes her feel like she’s a person instead of the Demon’s Daughter. Bruce has a knack for that. To make people want to be better, even just a little. Talia could have chosen him, if she wanted to. The fact that she helps him so much when fighting against her father numerous times is proof enough. 

I'm highly suspecting the reason she stays is because she knows Bruce would always forgive her (SIMP ALERT) unlike her father who would straight up stab her if she ever betrays him.

I’m not saying there’s no love for her son, I’m just saying if she even looks at the batfam funny than I will raise my flamethrower on that bitch’s face. Because you can’t rely on Bruce on that. That man would give bullshit excuse for her or want to handle her himself because your “history” with her makes you entitled.  

Aaaah, don’t you just love it when there’s a great villain you can hate on so much?

I'm not saying she can't be a good person. Pre-morisson made Talia more of an anti-hero. But I do like Talia "I'mma cut a bitch" al'ghul. It's just... I like ruthless Bad Bitch like her. Though preferably she could have balance it with more of her maternal side through Damian.

Okay, I’m getting off tangent. Now comes to my favorite girl. Catwoman. Selina Kyle. The famous ship of all Bruce’s relationship sans SuperBat. 

I... am conflicted the most about this. 

See, Selina is one of the few people who understands Bruce. Who was there when he needed a shoulder to rely on. Someone who doesn’t take Bruce’s shit, and one of the constant person in Bruce’s life. 

But not... constant enough. Which is a theme of her, even in her fursona... I, I mean PERSONA, PERSONA!!! 

Anyway, I love seeing these two broken people. One handles it with violence and vigilantism, the other through thieving with a Robinhood-esque thing going on. So of course they get each other. It always helps that they try to make each other better. Selina taught Bruce to be okay of being selfish of wanting to be happy, and Bruce believed there’s good in her that makes her feel she’s not a hopeless case, y’know? It’s even canon that in one universe, they’re married and have daughter, Helena Wayne. So... yeah? Happy end! (Until they died but that’s non issue here at the moment.) 

Then Tom King (Urgh, him again) wrote Bat proposing to Cat, and by the time they’re about to be married. Selina left him at the altar. 

So yeah. 

But then they get metaphysically? Figuratively? married after the Flashpoint which they turn Thomas Wayne into a villain (At least make him from alternate universe instead of timeline!!!) and kill Alfred (WhYYYYYY?! Bruce suffered enough why do you go kill both his fathers dammit!!! Let the goddamn butler rest in peace). And basically Selina and Bruce promise each other forever. Which is sweet. BatCat Forever, am I right??? 

Yeah, here’s the problem. (And I’m just nitpicking here, okay). For all Tom King’s character assassination of Bruce, he did Selina right in one thing. Which is the fact she doesn’t like being tied down by anything.

If Talia puts importance in power. Selina puts importance in freedom and her self-independence. 

I remember as a kid watching BTAS, that Selina didn’t want a relationship with batman if it meant changing who she is. So when Selina left the altar, I wasn’t surprise at the news. Then she actually agreed to marry him, only this time, she didn’t need a judge or a paper to make the marriage legit, y’know. And I thought, yeah that’s so her. 

But the thing is Bruce. Accepts. Her. Every. Single. Time. 

Without a single thought. She asked, “Do you still want to get married?” and he asked “When?” 

Even though it’s not the first that Cat leaves him hanging. 

Tell me he’s not a simp for that. 

It’s great that he accepts her for everything she is. But I’m conflicted because Selina stays static. She stays with the cat theme in the fact she doesn’t want to held back by anything. She takes what she wants. She loves who she loves. And no one was gonna change her. But then where’s the character growth? 

Is it regressive of me to think Selina should be ‘tied down’ or express commitment when she never has been tied down before even though she loves Bruce? 

Is it not-feminist of me to think Selina has to change herself for a man? 

I just don’t like the fact Bruce and Selina enables their masked persona. Their relationship is strongly base on their cat-and-mouse chase. They nicknamed each other “Bat” and “Cat” for God’s sake. Even though yes, it’s canon that “Batman” and “Catwoman” is their real selves and their civilian life is their masks. Heck, she didn’t go for the altar because she believed (though manipulated) that making Bruce happy would make Batman insufficient, or losing him entirely (Thank Tom King for that). 

That would be true, and stay true if not for one thing. Which is some thing what Bruce has that Selina doesn’t: 

The Batfam.

Bruce’s real identity isn’t just the Batman anymore. He has to be a single father with growing children he never plan to adopt but did anyway because they needed each other. He can’t use his batman persona to be a father at his house, but he will when training them to be his partner. His family became the strength to Bruce’s fight for Justice. 

Bruce is the Batman, but he’s not everything who he is. Selina is supposed to be part of the batfamily yet sadly, I haven’t read or watch anything that has her interact with them in a positive way or actually bond with them. Heck, when Alfred inform the proposal to the batfam they were shocked and thought it was a bad idea even (And they’ve known her for almost half their life by the way.) 

The fact that Tom King implied Bruce was never happy or wasn’t happy enough without marrying Cat when his Batfam should be the source of his pride and joy?! Apparently family means nothing to Batman. Woah DC, what a great message you’re sending here. 

I guess that’s why, I was a bit iffy when Selina “marriage” with Bruce isn’t official. Because she commits to the man but she doesn’t say she’ll commit to the family (though I suppose it could be imply or I just forget stuff). The batkids are grown up enough that they don’t really need a maternal figure, but that doesn’t mean they don’t need more emotionally available people in the family. And that I haven’t seen much of her taking effort to bond with the people that’s the most important to Bruce. 

It just makes her want to commit to Batman instead of Bruce Wayne, in my eyes I guess. 

So yeah, that’s why Wonderbat and Superbat makes more sense to me. Because they’ll make an effort to be THERE for the family and they’ll be just generally be a healthier relationships because, again, emotionally available so they might talk when they have a problem instead of running off the altar when you think a Happy Batman is Bad Batman. But no, DC have to make Bruce is a simp and his life edgy. 

Anyway, I might be wrong in some things because, you know. Canon becomes a blur to me after a while. 

#batcat #batfam #batfamily #batman #bruce wayne #talia al ghul #andrea beaumont #bruce wayne is a simp #rant #rant post #word vomit #superbat #wonderbat #dc comics #headcanon #selina kyle #catwoman #tom king #fuck tom king #tom king rant

[internalsealpanic]

Dick Grayson x Mercenary Reader HCs Part 1

a/n: This is basically a Dick Grayson/ Reader thingy that has been stuck in my head for months but I haven’t plotted out an actual fic for. Basically, I have the relationship mapped out in my head but I have no scenarios. I was hoping someone could suggest a plot I can play with. This part is mostly platonic with hints of a future relationship. This is pretty much in a weird version of canon running around in my head. 

masterlist

You’re Deathstroke’s apprentice. (This version is the version from the Knights and Dragons movie so he isn't a complete and utter asshole. Look, I just really like that version.) Let's just say you had more moxie than self preservation. It also helps that you’re a meta with a pretty unique power. Anything drawn on your skin turns into a physical object. (You basically have a bunch of permanent markers on you in addition to your usual equipment.)

Dick doesn't like you because of your profession but has a grudging respect for your skill. You think Dick is annoying for getting in the way but you understand that he's just trying to do his best to help the city in his own useless way.

YOU LORDING YOUR HEIGHT OVER DICK WHEN YOU'RE KIDS AND YOU QUIETLY CURSING WHEN YOU STOP GROWING.

You and Dick never set out to be friends. You honestly had no clue when this even started. Maybe it was because you keep accidentally saving each other or maybe because you two have a lot to bond over such as murdered parents and emotionally inept mentors. 

When it actually started: You, in full  costume, recognize your least favourite bird and see that he's crying and that he not only has an ugly bruise in his face but also a bunch of other injuries. you simply sit with him and throw your arms around him letting your muscles relax as if to tell him ‘it's ok and that you’ve got him’. You let him cry into your shoulder. You understand that you have a little more in common than he's willing to admit. You use one of your motion tattoo wings as a cover from the rain and the other to keep Dick warm. When Dick finally calms down enough to think, he's jarred by how nice you are acting. your general demeanor loosened at this point you let your offense show and the very petulant look on your face draws a tired laugh out of Dick. your angry look melts to give way to something resembling relief. You stay there for a while not speaking before Dick decides he needs to leave. Without a fuss you let him go.

After that, instead of fighting each other during encounters, you two kind of just sit together and start talking about what happened since your last encounter. Or you two play rock, paper, scissors to see who ‘won’. 

Dick realizes that your personality is hilariously incompatible with your chosen profession. You rant about how Slade lectures you about learning how to lie better and when they tested how bad you were at it Dick was sure Alfred would politely word it as wooden. you had good control over your body language but you had a look caught between pain and annoyance etched on your face. 

Mini scenario: 

Dick is really stressed out with school and vigilanteing and with Bruce that he just starts wandering around Gotham. 

It was a bad idea. Wandering around Gotham is generally a bad idea especially if your head isn't on straight but there is something relaxing about just wandering around. 

Dick ends up at one of Gotham's old movie theatres. One of those businesses that you're pretty sure is a front for something because you can't wrap your head around how they could possibly still be in business. 

Then there you were a foot from the ticketing windows. His mind instantly recognizes you. You, in turn, recognize him instantly. 

When neither of you launch into an attack, you decide to watch a movie together. After bickering for 15 minutes about what movie you should watch, you decide on a coin toss. Because you won, Dick was subjected to your love of terrible movies. 

You go out for burgers afterwards and joke about the movie. You complain about the bad acting and the ridiculous story line. You even come up with how they should have done it.

Your lunch was spent outside in the parking lot of the burger joint. 

You walk around some more after you explain that you haven't been to this part of Gotham and Dick gives you a mini tour. 

You talk about a mix of mundane teenager things and some complaints about their occupations.

You check your watch and explain that you need to go to the grocery store for ingredients. 

Dick goes with you just because. He won't admit that he's having a lot of fun.

Being teenagers they fuck around. Being exceptionally athletic and intelligent teenagers you fuck around entertainingly. 

At first, you play 'the price is right' because Dick wants to prove he isn't a spoiled rich kid. He doesn't prove jack. You don't do much better but it's on the opposite end. 

You get bored and frustrated so you start a scavenger hunt much to the terror of the other customers. How would you feel about 2 terrors zooming around screaming about butter and backflipping over you?

Dick is busy gloating about his victory when the store gets robbed. Dick can't do anything because right now he is a rich boy extraordinaire and should not be capable of fighting. you on the other hand is sore from losing and just yeets a can into one of the robbers faces. 

Everyone's attention pans to your as you ready to lob another can at them. The robbers run leaving their unconscious friend on the floor bleeding. 

You still pay for the can but ask Dick to get another one. 

 Walking down the street, Dick notices how many take out places are on the way and asks why you don't just eat from there. you simply tell him you like home cooking more. He notes that for next time. 

You exchange phone numbers so you can plan a next time. 

The next time they hang out you both bring homemade snacks to sneak into the theater.

They start hanging out in civvies and do really mundane civilian stuff you want to try and that Dick doesn't get to do enough. 

You become a sort of hub of normality for Dick. He can talk to you about all the weird stuff without worrying about your not getting it or your judging him while also doing the most mind numbingly human things. 

What do they usually talk about:

Casual nerdy stuff

Weird history shit you reads about

Vigilante stuff

Funny henchman stories from the perspective of a vigilante and a higher level henchman

Sometimes they talk about trauma but they only vaguely mention it

They debate over dumb things like whether there's too much variety in cereal. Guess who's on which side. 

Sometimes they discuss fighting techniques. 

Dick teaches you Romani and about the Romani culture

You sometimes explains various myths and superstitions from your own culture

Dick sometimes talks about school and galas and you end up making fun of weird rich people. They also end up making fun of the various rich people who hire you.

You'll talk about almost everything with each other

You bring him to one of your safe houses for a home cooked meal after he tells you how he lives off of cereal. You were horrified. 

The Titans, Batman, and Alfred get really suspicious about Dick's new civilian friend. 

Slade gets suspicious of you frequently visiting certain cities. 

Somehow they figure out that you are the wraith. 

They all lecture Dick about it. 

Slade just finds the whole thing amusing and debates on whether he can actually convince you to give up some of Grayson's secrets. 

I just love the image of them casually hanging out in civvies with Batman questioning Dick's life decisions and what your has been influenced by his relationship with Catwoman while Deathstroke and Wintergreen are just quietly amused by the situation at some point they were worried about you discussing merc stuff but neither talk about current business unless it's safe to. 

Wintergreen isn't particularly worried since Grayson is a good kid. Wintergreen once joked that you should convince him to join their side. You said that Dick didn't have the right personality to be a merc. The irony of this was completely lost on your. 

You spending a ton of your hard earned mercenary money to win a stuffed toy that you think little Rose would want. Dick making fun of you for not getting it then he ends up spending too much money but he eventually gets it. You and Dick pass by a shop and you see the exact same stuffed toy in the shop window for a sixteenth of the fortune you spent at the arcade. Good news though, Rose still has the stuffed toy. 

 Both of you being petty at dance dance revolution. 

When you rant to each other in less than private areas, you rapidly switch languages.

Unbeknownst to Slade, Dick actually knows a bunch of his safe houses and unbeknownst to Dick, those are Deathstroke's safe houses.  You are technically not lying when you say it's yours. 

You have a silent pact not to blow each other's covers unless they deem it completely necessary (when people's lives are at stake). The only person who knows this pact is Jason and they have bought his silence. 

You will both go out of their way to help each other out of a bind. 

Sometimes when Bruce and Alfred are out of town and the stars align to have you visiting for a job, you end up helping Dick babysit. Jason gets confused and defensive at first. You have dealt with distrustful youngins. Neither Rose nor Joey wanted anything to do with you at first. You, however, grew up wanting siblings so you tried your darndest to look after them and it is really fucking hard to not let this munchkin grown on you. 

When you're old enough to hit the club they often go drinking together. You once tried to have you wingman for Dick. Using the ‘fantastic’ negotiating skills you got from mercenary work, you ended up getting the number for yourself. You once told Rose and Joey about it and both of them made lighthearted jokes about it. 

Dick gets confronted by Slade at sword point and asks what his intentions are with his kid (He honestly isn't at all serious but he likes how scared Dick got because the man is terrifying.)

Dick also gets interrogated by Joey and Rose because, you know, this is their big sister. 

You often insist on family dinners at least once every 2 weeks with your siblings, sometimes with their mom (Adeline is kind of not ok with you and Rose being present but is trying her best for Joey's sake), sometimes with their dad, occasionally with their uncle Wintergreen. 

You usually just casually call Slade 'pops'  and you drawls 'dad' when you’re pissed and 'papa' when you’re emotional. You try your damndest to only call him Slade or Deathstroke on the field but sometimes you slip up and calls him pops in the field

You have batnapped each batkid at least once. Batnapping meaning seeing a baby bat and throwing them over your shoulder when you’re pretty sure they’re going to get killed. This isn’t limited to kids. You still do this when they’re adults. The image of you throwing Dick over your shoulder when you two were tiny gives me life but you throwing Dick and/or Jason over your shoulder when they’re huge has me cackling.  

You basically accidentally become a de facto big sister/ mom friend to the batkids purely through your friendship with Dick.

Images from this scenario I can’t get out of my head:

Stargazing

Teaching Dick how to cook. He just ends up going to your place for a meal though. 

Running around during a rain storm huddled under a jacket with Dick because neither of you checked the weather

Casual affection you two share because you’re both tactile people. Casual affection as in just sitting on the couch in each other’s space, bumping shoulders to communicate, leaning on each other, hugging each other when greeting each other, and all that good stuff. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thanks for reading! I’m really sorry for the grammar and disorganization. 

If you guys are interested in the more bickering dialogue heavy part 2 either comment here or send an ask or pm me. *shrugs* This is just really self indulgent on my part. 

taglist: 

@idkmanicantenglish

@birdy-bat-writes (I will stop tagging you when you run out of good ideas for me.)

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson #Deathstroke #parental #Slade Wilson #BatFam #batfamily headcanon #rant #my writing #merc!reader #batboys #batkids

[wordsfromthesol]

You Confuse Pity with Love

Author: @wordsfromthesol Pairing: Damian Wayne x Reader Summary: The evolving relationship between you and Damian after you approach him at an annual charity ball. Warnings: Minor injuries, cursing Word Count: 1.9k Taglist: @zphilophobiaz

The annual charity ball was an event you had always been forced to go to. You had to keep up the façade that your family had spent years cultivating. Not that you could blame them, it was a mask that all of the Gotham elite wore. You gallivanted around, searching for something to entertain yourself when your eyes landed on Damian Wayne. The youngest of the prominent Wayne family and the only biological son of Bruce Wayne. Your eyes narrowed as a devious expression graced your features.

"Damian Wayne!" You called out, catching his attention. "Please tell me you are as miserable as I." You commented as you approached the unsuspecting bachelor.

"I would not know. Though I get no pleasure from events such as this. It is simply a means to an end."

"How debonair of you." You twirled around him, "I say we play a game."

"Game?" Damian's interested piqued.

"First person to get the watch of…" your eyes searched the crowd for an unsuspecting party-goer. "That guy, wins."

"This is childish." Damian scoffed as he rose to participate in your ill-conceived game.

"I think you're just afraid you'll lose." You winked at him before making a beeline for the chosen victim.

**

You had just ordered your coffee when you noticed a familiar face staring at you from across the café. "What, are you stalking me now?"

"Perhaps you are the one stalking me. I believe I was here first."

"Yeah, but this is my favorite place. And the closest coffee shop to my apartment." Damian stared blankly at back at you. "You're a Wayne, you could've figured that out." You scoffed at him, knowing full well that the Wayne's basically ran Gotham City.

"This is the closest coffee shop to my apartment as well. You are a Y/L/N. You could have figured that out." A faint smile donned his lips as he threw your words back at you.

"Y/N!" The barista screamed from the counter, saving you from trying to come up with a rebuttal. Grabbing your drink, you walked over to a nearby table and pulled out your laptop. You attempted to ignore the youngest Wayne heir, but you found your eyes constantly wandering towards him. An hour had passed and you were not getting nearly as much work done as you had hoped, thanks to your lingering stare at a certain someone. You glanced in his direction again, only to snap back to your laptop screen when your eyes met his.

Another hour passed and you began to pack up your things, realizing you would have to retire elsewhere if you hoped to get any work done. You walked over to his table, "I'll be here again tomorrow at 9, if you feel like stalking me more." You spun on your heel and hastily trotted out the door, screaming at yourself for being so brazen.

**

You stepped into the coffee shop the next day and stopped dead in your tracks as you saw Damian Wayne there yet again. Really you shouldn't be surprised, you did tell him exactly when you would be there. You tried your best to ignore him again, getting your coffee and heading over to an empty nearby table. As soon as you pulled your laptop from its bag, you looked up to see Damian pulling the chair out across from you. You gave him a faint smile before turning your attention back to your work. He didn't say anything, just stared at you for almost an hour before getting up.

"See you tomorrow." Damian mumbled the words as he retreated out the door.

"What the fuck…" you whispered to yourself once he left.

**

Damian was already at the coffee shop, yet again, when you arrived in the morning. This time you sat down across from him, ignoring the laptop you brought with you. "So, what's your deal?" The question slipped from your lips before you had realized what you had said.

"My deal? I assume you are asking why I keep seeking your companionship." You furrowed your brows at his odd vernacular, but nodded your head to assure him he understood your question. "You seemed entertaining at the charity ball. Then again during our first encounter here. My brothers keep hassling me to find friends outside of our family."

"Aw," your hand shot up to your chest. "And you want that friend to me?"

Damian shrugged, "You seem to be the least irritating person near my age that I have discovered thus far."

"Wow, the compliments just keep coming. I'm honored." You chuckled as you stood up to go order a drink.

"Where are you going?" Damian looked almost hurt that you were already leaving.

"Calm down, I'm only getting a coffee. Want something?"

**

The next few months went by and the two of you began hanging out outside of the coffee shop. This boy you had innocently approached at a charity ball had turned into your best friend. You weren't sure when it even happened. But there the two of you were, staring at the giraffes at the zoo, when you glanced over at him and commented, "I just really want to ride one."

"You want to ride a giraffe…" Damian auspiciously met your gaze.

"Yeah." The word resulted in an eruption of laughter from your present company. You turned towards him and that's when the realization hit you like a ton of bricks. This person had become your best friend. This person knew you as you truly were and accepted it.

"Why are you still staring at me?" Damian's words broke you from your trance, as you realized you had no idea how long ago he stopped laughing.

"Just zoned out for a minute, sorry."

"You okay?" Damian's face fell as a worried expression overtook his features. A smile lined your lips as you noticed the sudden change in demeanor. You took his hand in yours.

"I'm fine, I promise. Let's go look at the penguins!" You exclaimed, dragging him off down the pathway.

**

It was time for the annual charity ball and you knew this year's would be better than last. This year you actually knew Damian and couldn't wait to spend the entire night laughing at the Gotham elite with him. You were planning to surprise Damian at his house, so the two of you could go together. That's when everything went wrong. The car suddenly stopped, you looked around, seeing no stop sign or traffic light to warrant such an action.

"Chester?" You called out to your driver, "Is everything alright?"

"I'm sorry miss." His voice shaky, "They have my daughter."

Your eyes went wide as your mind worked out what was happening. The car door opened and two men stood before you with vile grins adorning their faces. You raced to the other side of the car, opening the door and jumping out. Before you could take off running, you felt arms wrap around you. You threw your head back, hearing the cracking of his nose.

"You little shit!" The man behind you screamed, but didn't loosen his grip. You stomped your foot down on his, causing another string of curses to spew from his lips; hisis grasp on you loosened. As you attempted to break free, a hand slapped over your mouth and nose and everything went black.

**

"Where is Y/N?" Damian echoed the question to anyone and everyone who knew you as he wandered around the charity ball in search of you. Finally, he spotted your parents. He raced over, but his face immediately fell when he noticed you weren't with them. "Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N. A pleasure to see you again. May I inquire as to the whereabouts of your daughter?"

Their brows both furrowed as the anxiety glazed over them, "She's not here? With you? She left an hour ago, saying she was meeting up with you."

"I am going to find her." The rage bubbled inside him as he ploughed through the crowd, heading straight for Dick. "I need you," was the short phrase that left Damian's lips as he approached his brother. He didn't bother to wait, knowing Dick would follow him away from the crowded room.

"D, what's wrong?" Dick called out to his brother as they arrived at the empty balcony.

"Y/N is missing. We need to find her."

"Okay…how do you know she's missing?" Dick's expression gave away his confusion.

"Her parents said she was to arrive with me. She did not."

"Why would she come with you? She probably just said that to get out of going to this stupid thing." Dick turned to leave, thinking his brother misunderstood.

"No." Damian grabbed at his brother's arm. "She would not do that to me."

"I didn’t' realize you two were close." Damian didn't bother answering his brother, partially because he didn't have the words to describe your relationship. He had been avoiding his growing feelings for you since that day at the zoo.

**

It had been nearly a day, as you sat in the cold dark cell. You didn't know who these people were or what they wanted. Though you guessed it was probably just money. That's all anyone ever wanted from you. Except Damian. Your thoughts had traveled to him more and more the longer you sat there. Your hand reached up to wipe a tear trailing down your cheek. You cringed as the pain shot through you, just from the minor touch. Unfortunately, the kidnapper, whose nose you broke, sought out revenge for the injuries. You retreated further into yourself, until you heard a loud thud right outside the door. You braced yourself for the oncoming pain, but the man who opened the door donned a red costume...and was certainly not your kidnapper. The stranger fell at your side.

"Who let this happen?" You remained silent, still unsure what was happening. "How did --" his words cut off as his hand gently caressed the bruises forming at your jaw.

"I don't need your pity," you pulled back from his touch.

"You mistake pity for love." Before the bewilderment could take over, the vigilante ripped off his mask and you stared into the familiar green eyes before you.

"Am I dreaming…" you whispered as your hand reached up to touch his face. Damian leaned his head into your touch. 

"No. I'm here. I will always be here." He pulled you into his chest just as another figure appeared at the door.

"Robin, we gotta go." Nightwing motioned around, as the sound of sirens began to fill the room.

"I am not leaving her." He mumbled as he pulled you slightly away from his chest, staring into your eyes. "I will never leave you."

Dick sighed, realizing he would lose this battle. "Fine. Bring her. We have to go."

Before you could protest, Damian picked you up and carried you out of your prison. "Damian," you whispered as he set you down in the back seat of the car. The look you gave him nearly broke his heart as in crawled in beside you. "I don't want to go home." Your voice hitched as you forced the words out. "I don't want to be alone." Damian motioned for Dick to drive before pulling you into his chest.

"I'm not going anywhere." Damian mumbled as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

#Damian Wayne #damian wayne fanfic #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x you #robin #robin fanfic #robin x reader #robin imagine #robin x you #batboys #batboys fanfic #batboys x reader #batboys imagine #batboys x you #batfamily #BatFam #batfam fanfic #batfam imagine #batfam x reader

[fidothefinch]

he will tear you with his tongue

For Dick & Dami Week 2021, day 1: "Did you really mean that?"

Dick didn’t think. The goon was adjusting his grip on Damian’s knife, aiming the blade down his neck. The man wanted revenge, and on such short notice Dick only saw one option.

Pretend he didn’t care.

(Full fic under the cut, or read on Ao3)

Dick tapped the glass of his window casually, watching the familiar buildings of Gotham speed past his view.

“TT.”

Dick angled his body toward Damian. The kid was staring resolutely at the back of the seat in front of him, obviously still pouting over losing this particular argument before they had left the penthouse. “It’s just a few hours.”

“Hours I could have spent training. Or studying. Or watching paint dry.”

Dick fought back the quirk of his lips, knowing it would only send Damian into a darker mood. “Was that a joke?”

“I assure you, it was not.” Damian glowered.

“Think of it as training,” Dick offered. “Undercover work. We have to keep up appearances, so people don’t suspect us.”

“TT.” Damian shifted in his seat uncomfortably. His hands fisted the material of the opposite sleeves.

“Be careful not to crease your suit, Master Damian,” Alfred piped in from the front, the first words he had spoken since they had embarked on their journey into the city. “I will not have time to correct it before they begin filming.”

Damian released his sleeves like he had burned them, his fingers almost imperceptibly smoothing out the small wrinkles that had formed. He still sat with his back ramrod straight, but that was nothing uncommon for the uptight kid.

Still.

“Is there something you’re worried about?” Dick asked. “It should be perfectly safe—”

“I am not worried,” Damian growled. “I am annoyed that I am being forced to waste my time being interviewed on daytime television.”

“The morning news isn’t—”

“And I am not looking forward to putting on an act of stupidity like the rest of you.”

Okay, so that stung a little. Dick bit his tongue to control his instinctual comeback. Instead he analyzed what lay underneath the statement. “So you’re afraid you’ll look stupid.”

“It would be impossible not to, with you.”

Alfred let a sharp “Master Damian,” ring across the car, and to the butler’s credit, Damian’s face twitched.

“You cannot deny it,” Damian pressed. “I am doomed to adopt the act that my predecessors have started, and I must accept the fact I will be nakedly mocked on live television and in the drivel that they call news for the rest of the year.”

“Hey,” Dick said, trying to get his attention. When Damian looked up, there was a flicker of emotion behind his eyes before he blocked it off again. They were still working on that. “Who cares what the gossip says? The people that matter know who you really are.”

For a second, Dick thought the words may sink in, that Damian would answer like a normal human with empathy. “Is that what father told you before he kicked you out?”

“Damian—”

“Master Richard.”

Something in the butler’s voice immediately caught both of their attention.

“What’s wrong?” Dick asked, leaning forward to look over the dashboard. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong with the vehicle.

“It appears that we are being followed.”

Even as Alfred said it, Dick’s eyes caught on a set of headlights in the rearview mirror, tailing a little too closely to be comfortable. A matching black van followed them on their left, and when Dick looked forward, there was another one—no license plate— several cars ahead and to their right. “More like we’re being herded,” he muttered.

“I told you we should have brought our weapons,” Damian said. “I could kill the driver behind us within—”

“We’re not killing anybody.” The phrase had grown so familiar he didn’t even blink at it. “I’ll go ahead and call the police. Alfred, try to stay on the busier streets. They won’t try anything where there are so many witnesses.” At least, he hoped they wouldn’t. It really depended on who was in the vans.

Alfred nodded, changed his turn signal, and merged seamlessly into the middle lane.

The van behind them nosed in immediately after, cutting off the driver who had let them over.

Dick dug through his pockets until he found his phone and got to work dialing the police. But the device flew from his hands when, a moment later, the car lurched.

“They hit us,” Alfred explained. “I do not believe they are trying to be subtle, anymore.”

Clearly, whoever it was, they weren’t afraid of making a scene. Time to change tactics. “Think you can shake them?”

“I will try. Please buckle your seatbelt.”

Dick nodded, ducking to retrieve his phone before scrambling back into his seat. The screen was cracked from the force with which he had dropped it.

“Master Damian, you must wear your seatbelt, too.”

Dick shifted his attention away from his broken (non-functioning) phone to see Damian, kneeling backwards on the bench to glare out the rear windshield. “Damian, sit down.”

“I am sitting,” the kid replied, his eyes never leaving the van behind them. “The man has a prison tattoo on his left bicep and a shamrock tattoo on his neck. Are you familiar with him?”

“Turn around and put your ass. . . actually.” Dick twisted in his seat to get a look. (And released his seatbelt so he could look more clearly.) “Yeah, that’s Korban Branthwaite. He was part of a crew responsible for a string of bank robberies a while ago. He just got out on parole last month.”

“I could easily leap from our vehicle to his and demand an explanation.”

“You’re not doing that. I’m not letting you do that. Seriously, Damian. Put your seatbelt on before—” Dick’s next words were cut off by Alfred’s shout. He had just enough time to grab Damian before the van barreling toward them slammed into the side of their car.

Dick pulled Damian in close to his body, twisting around the smaller boy to protect him from the worse of the impact as the world around them erupted into chaos. The windows shattered inward, the door crumpling in like a crushed tin can. Their vehicle screeched and whined, snapping side to side hard enough to give Dick whiplash as the wheels fought to regain traction. The view outside spun across the windows, road-cars-trees-dirt blurring into an incomprehensible mess.

Dick shut his eyes and held on tighter, his stomach swooping like it did on the trapeze.

After what felt like an eternity, the motion stopped.

He waited until he was sure, until the rocking of the car stilled and the only noise was of the traffic passing outside. Only then did Dick loosen his fingers, let his eyes stray down to the quiet face tucked under his chin. “Are you okay?” he asked, the slight waver inn his voice giving away his worry.

“Tt.” Damian pushed against Dick’s chest, propelling himself backward. “I am fine.”

Uh-huh.

Dick looked him over and was relieved to find nothing worse than a few scratches and bruises from the broken glass. Damian had already shifted his attention outside, where the van that had hit them rested several yards away. He smacked Dick’s hand away when he tried to brush broken glass out of his hair. “I do not believe they were trying to kill us.”

Dick pressed his lips together. “No.” Then, panic hit him with more clarity. “Alfred!”

“I am alright, Master Richard.”

Dick pushed to the front seat, knowing that he lived with a family of liars who would prefer to bleed out than admit they had an injury. Alfred was pinned back by his seatbelt, and a quick scan revealed a bleeding nose and broken arm. “We’ll get Leslie to set that,” Dick promised him.

“They’re coming,” Damian said, voice serious.

“Who?”

“Your thieves.”

Dick stooped to look out the windshield, and, sure enough, another of the black vans had pulled up, blocking their view of the road beyond. Four men trotted down the small incline toward their car. “Shit.”

“You are sure we cannot kill them?”

Dick didn’t get the chance to respond. The men reached their car and forced the good doors open hard enough to shake it again.

“Get out,” one of the men barked. He was a big guy, with a handlebar mustache and a matching shamrock tattoo, but on his arm.

“No,” Damian sneered.

Two of the men flanking the big one pulled out guns. Dick reacted on instinct, backing up and spreading his arms to block their view of Damian. He couldn’t let the kid get shot.

“I won’t tell you again,” the man threatened.

“Look, I’ll come.” Dick held up his hands non-threateningly. “Leave the kid here. He doesn’t know anything.”

The man looked him up and down with a predatory gaze that made Dick shiver. Finally, he gave a curt nod. “Grab him.”

The two men flanking him lowered their weapons in favor of reaching inside, grabbing each of Dick’s arms and hauling him out. When Dick’s feet found the grass, they wasted no time fastening zipties around his wrists and a blindfold over his eyes.

Dick breathed deeply to control his fear reaction as they shoved him blindly forward.

“Let go of me!”

“Damian?” Dick dug his heels in, stopping their progress. “You said—”

“Shut up before I decide to bring the old man, too.”

Dick pressed his tongue into the roof of his mouth as hard as he could. Alfred needed to be looked at by a medical professional; it would do him no good being dragged into this. But Damian was untested, as far as civilian kidnappings went.

If this was a kidnapping.

They frog-marched Dick to what he assumed was the van before tossing him inside. He landed hard on his stomach, his face rubbing against rough, crusty carpet. The smell of alcohol, cigarette smoke, and stale sweat assaulted his nose.

“Where are you taking us?” he asked.

A warm, bony body landed on top of his, letting out a muffled snarl of displeasure. So they had gagged Damian. That was probably a good thing.

“That’s none of your concern,” the lead man replied.

The van rocked as the rest of the men filed in. Doors rolled shut around them, the engine rumbled to life, and the car swayed as it pulled back up onto the road.

“Search his pockets.”

“Wait.” Before hands could begin roaming all over his body (a thought that made his skin crawl), Dick offered, “My wallet’s in the left breast pocket of my jacket.”

A big hand slipped into his jacket and retrieved it easily.

“Phone?”

Dick internally cringed, already knowing where this was going. “I don’t have it.”

“Search him.”

Dick couldn’t see the touches coming; he couldn’t help but flinch away from each brush of contact. “I don’t have it. I lost it in the wreck.”

There was a muffled growl from next to him. God, they were searching Damian, too.

“Found one on the kid.”

“Give it to me,” the leader commanded. A moment later, “Give me his thumb. I need access.”

The smaller body next to Dick suddenly jolted away. The movement was accompanied by deep gasps and shuffling feet.

“Fuck. The kid has a knife!”

If it were any other situation, Dick would roll his eyes. As it was, he silently thanked the heavens that Damian had managed not to lethally stab anybody yet. He reached around blindly, trying to find him.

“Well, take it away from him!”

“You do it!”

A growl. “Pathetic. You’re scared of a little boy.”

A muffled yelp.

“No! Wait!” Unable to find his brother, Dick scooted toward the sound of something dragging across the carpet. “Stop!”

He finally reached Damian’s side, only for a white-hot slash of pain to slice down his arm. He couldn’t help his grunt in reaction.

The sound of the knife falling to the floor was muffled by the carpet, but unmistakable. Dick couldn’t see, but he was positive that it was immediately retrieved by one of the goons.

Sure enough, the leader laughed, somewhere above Dick’s head. “Did daddy teach the little brat some self-defense?”

“Leave him alone,” Dick growled. He found Damian’s shirt and clung to it.

“Oh?” Hot breath fanned across Dick’s face, much too close to be comfortable. “Feeling a little. . .  protective?”

Dick’s heart jumped in his chest.

Something in his face must have showed it, because the goons around him laughed. “We must have gotten the right one, then. Norman will be pleased.”

“Who’s that?” Dick asked. “Listen, I can get you money—”

“That’s not why we’re here,” the leader said.

“Then what do you want?”

The leader’s mouth curled into a cruel grin. “You’ll see.”

A rag was closed over his lower face, the sharp stench of chloroform following. Dick thrashed his head, but between the blindfold and his bound hands he had no (reasonable) defense.

Between one breath and the next, he fell asleep.

-

“Take off his blindfold.”

Dick blinked, more for the release of pressure on his eyes than for the light, which was dim inside the small, windowless room. He was still groggy, his head pounded from the last dredges of chloroform, and his shoulders already ached from behind tied around the back of his chair, but his attention was immediately caught by his surroundings.

Four men stared down at him threateningly. One of them had his arms wrapped around Damian, who was also tied to a chair, still blindfolded and gagged.

More threatening was the knife poised over Damian’s face.

Dick’s heart hammered at the sight. “I won’t fight you. You don’t have to hurt him.”

“Ah, but we do,” called a new voice, from behind.

Dick tried to twist, but he had to wait until the man chose to step into his sightline. He had dark hair and a rat-like face: small eyes, yellow teeth, and a sparse moustache. The smirk he gave Dick held a mix of resentment and triumphant possessiveness.

“I’ve got money,” Dick tried, even remembering how the offer had gone last time. “I just need to make a phone call.”

The man clicked his tongue and shook his head. “That will not work. You see,” he offered, removing his tobacco-stained fingers from his pockets. “This has been a long-time coming. I could get money, but you’re rich, so what would that really teach you?”

This was personal. This was bad.

The man took a step forward, leaning into Dick’s personal space. “I could get sex.” Dick flinched. “But I bet you would enjoy that.”

A sick feeling rose in Dick’s stomach at the insinuation.

“I want to give you a pain that will last,” the man finished, eyes trailing over to Damian.

The goon that was holding his brother down had moved his arm around Damian’s neck, forcing his chin up and back. It would take almost nothing to break his neck.

Dick forced himself to shove aside his panic and think. This was personal; the man wanted to cause pain. He needed to keep the man’s attention off Damian until help could arrive. “Who are you?” Dick asked.

The rat-faced man turned to him with bared teeth. “My name is Norman Darth, and you’re the reason my wife left me.”

Dick blinked a few times, stalling while he racked his brain for why the name was familiar. Norman’s face grew darker as he waited for some kind of reaction. It was that look that reminded Dick where he had seen him before: caught for embezzling charity money, back during Dick’s BPD days.

“I’m sorry to hear about your wife,” he said, trying to sound sincere but firm. “You don’t have to do this.”

Norman sneered. “You don’t get it! I loved her!” He snapped his fingers, and the goons around him straightened their posture. “It’s your fault I lost the person I loved. Now it’s going to be my fault you lose yours.”

Dick didn’t think. The goon was adjusting his grip on Damian’s knife, aiming the blade down his neck. The man wanted revenge, and on such short notice Dick only saw one option.

Pretend he didn’t care.

“So, what? You’re going to threaten me with him?”

The goon frowned, and the knife pressed in, just enough to draw a drop of blood. “Don’t test me,” he warned.

“Shut up,” Norman barked. “Just kill him. Make it slow.”

Dick laughed. Damian startled at the sound, and it made it nearly impossible for Dick to keep the tremble out of his own voice. “Go ahead, do your worst. See if I care.”

The goon’s hand hesitated, not pushing any deeper into Damian’s neck. After a moment, Norman held up a hand to call him off. “You’re bluffing,” he said, almost phrasing it like a question.

Bingo.

Dick scoffed. “That would be stupid.”

“He cared about him in the van,” the big man, the one Dick had thought had been the leader, said. “Got real protective.”

Norman pursed his lips, considering Dick coldly. “Cut him,” he said, instead. “Nowhere lethal, yet.”

The man holding Damian dropped the blade to Damian’s bound arm and pierced Damian’s jacket and shirt. Norman didn’t even look back, instead raising an eyebrow at Dick’s non-reaction to the knife running down Damian’s arm like it were warm butter. Not too deep, but deep enough it definitely hurt. Maybe even deep enough to scar.

Damian managed not to make a sound, a fact that didn’t comfort Dick. What he could see of the kid’s face and body was clenched tight, trying to stay still so as not to disturb the weapon trailing along his body.

“Threatening him won’t get you what you want,” Dick promised. He didn’t know how he kept his tone so even. “He’s not worth that much.”

The man suddenly twisted the blade, opening the wound in Damian’s upper arm further. Damian yelped this time, the sound muffled by the duct tape over his mouth.

Dick managed not to flinch.

“Damn, you really don’t care about him, do you?” One of the other goons in the room asked. “Is that what money does to you?”

“He’s not my kid,” Dick said, shrugging. The words already tasted bitter in his mouth. “I’m just stuck with him.”

Damian sucked in a sharp breath. It had nothing to do with the man removing the knife and everything to do with Dick’s words.

Dick had to look away. “I only watch him because Bruce asked me to.”

A pregnant pause followed the words.

“I don’t believe you,” Norman said. He was not convincing.

Dick made eye contact, pointedly ignoring the small hands, clenched into tight fists across from him. “If I knew where his mom was,” he said, feeling his chest tighten at the words, “I’d send him back.”

Norman studied his face, his expression a deep frown of disgust. “You’re a terrible father,” he spat.

“I’m not—” Dick started, ready to continue the ruse for as long as it took to keep the attention off Damian. But he was cut off when the wall next to them fell away, nearly crushing two of the goons underneath.

Spoiler stepped through the door. “Sorry we’re late. Traffic was terrible.”

Black Bat followed her into the room, her silence speaking for itself.

-

Damian was suspiciously quiet for the entire ride back to the Cave. Dick tried to get him to let him take a look at his arm, which was still bleeding under the field dressings that Cass had applied, but Damian had brushed away his attempts with a curt “Pennyworth will take care of it.”

Okay, so the kid was being a little more moody than usual. Understandable, since he had spent the last several hours immobile, blind, and silenced. Dick didn’t push it.

But when the behavior continued into the next day, and then the day following that, he grew worried. Damian was avoiding him, for some reason. He spent his time tucked away in his own room, and he didn’t engage in conversation over dinner. Damian had always been. . . prickly, but Dick had thought they were making progress. This was something new.

They needed to talk.

Dick finally got his chance when he found Damian on the manor’s lawns, walking Titus. Dick fell into step eagerly. “Hey, Damian.”

“Tt.” Damian didn’t even look over at him. He didn’t actively try to get away, though, either, and Dick took that as an invitation.

“Nice weather, huh?”

“It is raining.”

“I know.” Dick brushed his wet hair back. “It’s nice.”

“Tt.”

They walked in silence for several minutes, and it drove Dick crazy that he couldn’t read whether it was companionable or awkward. When Titus found a spot to squat, Dick seized the opportunity. “I think we need to talk.”

“Were we not talking earlier?”

“No, something’s up.” Dick studied Damian’s impassive face. “Is something bothering you?”

“No,” was Damian’s immediate reply. But Dick had learned Damian’s tells, and he caught the way the boy’s hands flexed.

“Are you sure?” Dick prompted, gently. “You can tell me if something’s wrong. I won’t be mad.”

Damian stared at the ground, letting the hood of his rain jacket obscure his expression for him. “You do not have to pretend with me, any longer,” he declared.

Dick bit his tongue, tasting the words. “Pretend?”

“I am here only for training,” Damian continued. “You are not obligated to be involved in my life otherwise.”

“Obligated?” Dick asked, confused. “What are you talking about?”

Damian finally looked up at him, and he wore a stony expression. “You confessed your feelings towards me to Darth,” he said. “Did you really mean that?”

All of the blood fell out of Dick’s face. He felt nauseous again, like he had been freshly chloroformed. “No.”

Damian looked away again, his shoulders tight. “Okay.”

“No, Damian.” Dick grabbed his shoulders to spin him around. “I know we don’t always get along, but I care about you.”

To his surprise, Damian’s eyes were shining. “You would not send me back to mother, if you had the chance?”

Dick pulled Damian in for a hug, holding him tight and tucking head under his chin. “Never,” he said, squeezing harder in hopes it would press the words into Damian’s psyche. “You’re too important to me.”

Damian didn’t pull away.

In fact, Damian leaned into the hug, maybe for the first time ever.

“I love you,” Dick repeated.

“Tt.”

Dick smiled, understanding what went unsaid.

#dick&damiweek2021 #dick & damian #batfam #dick grayson #damian wayne #fido writes

[chilling-in-the-dark]

The Superfam as Yandere’s Part 2: Jon Kent

This is a yandere story; it mentions elements of obsession, possessiveness, death, murder, kidnapping, and physical abuse. If any of this is triggering for you, I understand, and you don’t have to read it.

As always feedback is welcomed.

You’d tripped and grabbed on to fourteen-year-old Jon Kent’s upper arm to catch yourself, and when your hand made contact, Jon felt the place you’d touched start to burn. Oh, oh. Oh shit, he thought when he realized exactly what had just happened, how is it he could know you for four years, and yet today was the first time you’d touched him.

After all, you were the daughter of Dick Grayson, younger sister to Mary Grayson. Your father was like another Dad to Damian, so of course, you spent a lot of time with him, and by extension, Jon. Damian was five years older than you, and though his real title was your uncle, he thought of you more as a little sister.

Damian was extremely protective, and Jon knew that even if he couldn’t help it, Damian would never forgive him for being your soulmate. So, he’d kept it quiet, only he didn’t need to, Damian knew and had come to the decision that so long as the Kryptonian didn’t act on the soulmate thing, then everything would be fine. Besides, Damian was busy enough with his own darling, he didn’t have time to worry about something that Jon knew better than to let happen.

To make matters worse, finding out you were his soulmate had brought up memories of Jon’s late mother. When she’d first disappeared, his father had told him that she’d been sick and that his mom was getting help, so if they were lucky, she’d be home with them soon. Jon had believed him, but as it turned out, his father was a liar, his mother wasn’t going to be back with them soon, no, she’d die in some medical mishap.

At least that’s what Clark had told him, it wouldn’t be until much later that Jon found out the truth, but that wasn’t to come not for a few years at least.

Suddenly, Jon had the urge to make you his and keep you that way. Jon hadn’t really had a conversation with his father since his mother died, maybe it was wrong of Jon to blame Clark, but he really didn’t care, his mother was dead, and his father had let it happen.

The possessiveness was because of Kryptonian instinct, at least that’s what the computer in the fortress of solitude had said, Jon would have asked his father, but he found himself avoiding home these days unable to look Clark in the eye without feeling some level of rage.

Jon fought his instincts for as long as he could, but when you were fourteen, and he was sixteen, suddenly he couldn’t anymore. According to his research into mate bonds, this was normal for someone in his situation, he was nearing the age of maturity, and it would start to affect his behavior with his mate. There was no fighting his instincts entirely, so he gave into them in small ways like lending you his jacket when a sudden cold breeze blew by, it helped him control the worst parts of him, the ones that really wanted to keep you by his side forever no matter the cost.

Jon loved the way you looked in his jacket it was like you were basically drowning in the fabric, but more importantly, he loved that it told the world you were his, but then he’d have to remind himself that you weren’t, that you couldn’t be, and that he couldn’t have you because that would be betraying his best friend.

It hadn’t taken Jon long to figure out you liked the slight accent growing up in rural Kansas had gifted him. He found himself playing it up slightly when you were around, he really couldn’t help it, the Kryptonian part of him knew you found it attractive, and it wasn’t going to let a chance to win you over pass him by.

It happened with other things too, like how Jon kept waring that blue flannel you said brought out his eyes, whenever he knew you were going to be around, and how he kept his hair in the cut and style he knew you liked. Sometimes Jon felt like a damn animal nearly shouting, hay look at me I’m healthy and attractive, want to spend the rest of your life with me.

If Damian noticed his friend preening like a peacock for you, he didn’t say anything, then again Damian had been busy with his wife, so he could be forgiven for it, and besides, with Damian busy you’d been spending more one on one time with Jon, and he was living for it.

So much so that Jon kept having to remind himself to slow down, he may have been sixteen, and more than ready to start dating, but you were only fourteen, and Kryptonian instincts be damned he wasn’t going to hurt you by going too fast.

Jon had sworn a vow to himself to keep you safe, no matter the cost, if it meant your safety then Jon would gladly die himself, heck he’d kill the whole planet if it really came down to it. You were everything to him, and in a way, how much his world revolved around you scared him a little. It would be easy to lose himself down that rabbit hole.

When Jon was eighteen he tried to quit you like a drug, avoiding you at all costs, by the end of the week he felt like he was dying, by the end of the month, Jon felt worse than any form of Kryptonite had ever made him. Even the thought of moving hurt, Jon couldn’t see straight if he wanted to, and if he was a guessing person, Jon would say he was running a fever too, judging by the fact that he couldn’t get warm.

Of course, Clark knew what was going on, so long as you were alive, Jon wouldn’t be able to stay away from you, or his body would start fighting him, and if you passed before the two of you had children, Jon would surely wither and die himself. The only reason Clark had survived the death of his wife was because a piece of her still lived on in Jon.

So, wanting to keep that piece of his wife alive Clark did the one thing he knew would save his son, he made up an excuse to leave the planet and called Dick, Clark had told your father about you and Jon as soon as he figured it out himself. Of course, Dick hadn’t been happy about a Kryptonian loving his daughter because the only soulmate bond they had record of was Clarks, and that hadn’t ended well. Though in the end, Dick had decided that he wasn’t going to stand in the way.

Sure, that might have been because while Dick had Mary wrapped around his finger, he didn’t have you because you’d seen with your own eyes how your father treated your mother behind closed doors. Dick wanted you out of the way because you knew far too much, so he didn’t even question when Clark asked you to go to the Kent farm. If you never came back, it would just mean Dick didn’t have to worry about what you knew, or how you could take his wife away from him.

You’d been concerned when Clark called and asked you to look after Jon while he was off-world. Kryptonians were supposed to be immune to earth illnesses, but when you looked at Jon, you started to question that belief.

You pressed your hand to Jon’s forehead to confirm what you already suspected; he was burning up. According to Clark, he’d already tried all of the human fever reducers he could find, and none of them seemed to work. So you’d had to settle for the old school method of bringing down a fever, a cold washcloth on the forehead. After you’d placed it on Jon’s head, he grabbed your hand, pulled it to his cheek and nuzzled into it, you could have sworn you heard him slur the word mine as he did so.

Jon said a lot of things like that for the first couple of days, and you weren’t sure if he meant them or if he was delirious from his fever, but you kind of hoped for the former because over the years you’d fallen in love with him.

Loving Jon made you feel like you were living in some teen soap opera, Damian used to be like a brother to you until you found out that he knew what Dick was doing to your mom, but he did nothing to stop it, and Jon was Damian’s best friend, that was prime drama material. Still, you’d decided that if Jon ever gave you a clear indication that he returned your affections, you’d take him up on it.

Only you couldn’t tell if feverish ramblings counted as a clear sign, on the one hand, he’d rambled for twenty minutes about how pretty your eyes were at one point, but on the other hand that had been when he still had a fever and kept calling water earth juice. So you should probably have discarded anything he said during his entire illness, but you couldn’t bring yourself to.

Jon had been better for a few days now, and you really should have gone home, but this was a nice break from your life in Gotham. Honestly, if it wasn’t for the fact that you were only sixteen, you might have never gone home.  As it stood, you were still under eighteen, and eventually, you’d have to go home, but today was not that day. Until Clark came back, you were going to enjoy your little domestic heaven with Jon.

“Breakfast smells good,” Jon mumbled as he stumbled down the stairs, obviously still half asleep. You hadn’t expected Jon to come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist as you cooked, but he did. It was at that moment that you decided to throw caution to the wind because you just didn’t hold someone like he was holding you if you didn’t have feelings for them.

You turned around in Jon’s arms and wrapped your arms around his neck to bring his lips to yours, the kiss was perfect just like everything else about the person in front of you. Jon would have been content to stay like that forever, but unlike him, you needed to breathe, so he didn’t fight you when you pulled away from the kiss.

Jon wasn’t sure what had come over him as you pulled away, but all he could think was mine, mine, mine, mine, to the point he found himself growling, “You’re mine.” As he pulled you right up against him.

“I’m yours,” You confirmed, as you pulled him in for another kiss, If you’d grown up in a healthy family the blatant show of possessiveness might have freaked you out, but you hadn’t, so honestly you found it romantic. Red flags might as well have been green lights to you, and in a way, you were lucky you’d fallen in love with Jon at least he wasn’t like Dick. Jon would never hit you like Dick did your mother.

It was later that night that Jon explained the whole soulmate thing, and for the first time in his life, he felt truly content as he slept because he had you in his arms.

It was a week later when Damian showed up, he’d been worried about both you and Jon, he was concerned about Jon because if you weren’t back, that meant there was a possibility Jon wasn’t improving. Still, Damian was also worried about you because what if Jon had gotten better and wasn’t letting you leave. Damian had seen how well those supposed soulmate bonds, worked out in the end.

Out of all the scenarios Damian expected to find, one of them hadn’t been you, and Jon snuggled up on the couch watching a movie. Damian had never felt so betrayed, his best friend and his niece together, he wanted to puke.

You smiled as you curled up into Jon’s side; part of you hoped that Clark would never come back because you’d been happier than you had been in years. That is until Damian kicked the door in and charged Jon with a sword and a shard of Kryptonite. Without thinking, you threw yourself in front of Jon, and in turn, Jon threw himself over you, shielding you from shielding him.

Damian found Jon’s willingness to die for you admirable; it still wouldn’t be enough to win him over, no it’d take a lot more than that, but maybe he was worth a chance. Damian put the Kryptonite away into a special lead-lined pouch on his utility belt after he’d done that Jon felt his strength return.

Jon shoved you behind him and glared at Damian. “If you ever hurt her, I can and will end you, do you understand me Kryptonian,” Damian said as he placed the tip of his sword to Jon’s throat.

“Yeah I do, and I would never hurt her, I love her.”

“Your father said the same thing about his wife, and yet he drove her to suicide.” Damian proclaimed venom dripping from his words.

After learning the truth about his mother's death, Jon sent you off with Damian, he called you every day only to ask you to return a week later, as soon as you set foot on the Kent farm Jon dropped down on one knee and proposed. You gladly said yes, and with your parent's permission, got married.

You never questioned why Clark hadn’t returned from space, and it was a good thing you hadn’t because Jon didn’t feel like explaining that his father had returned, but he’d died not long after.

Had Jon killed him? It was possible because, after all, it would have avenged his mother and secured a beautiful, peaceful life for the two of you. All you knew is that after you were married, Jon mostly retired from superheroing. Only going out when absolutely necessary, because he was content to be a farmer for the rest of his life, so long as you were by his side.

A/N I’m not even sure if Jon came off as Yandere in this tbh, Jon in my head is a much softer Yan then the rest, so overall, my usual amount of skin-crawling creep factor isn’t here, but shrug emoji. Also, Yes, Conner was supposed to be next, but that didn’t end up happening.

Tags:

@yanderepeterparker​ @idkmanicantenglish​ @prettyafghan @neon-phosphorecsent​

#Yandere DC #yandere damian wayne #yandere dc comics #Yandere superfam #Yandere jon kent #yandere jon #yandere kent #Yandere #yandere x reader #x reader #Yandere Jon kent x reader #Yandere kent x reader #yandere superboy #dark dc #dark fic #Dark dick grayson #reader isnert #reader is dick graysons daughter #death tw #tw

[sohotthateveryonedied]

Red Robin: Gourmet Burgers and Brews

Summary: Tim gets sued by a burger joint.

Read here on AO3!

“I can’t believe this.” “You had it coming, man.” “I can’t believe this.” “You got cocky. It happens.” Duke shrugs. “This is just the universe’s way of reminding you that the laws of society don’t cease to apply when you’re a trust fund baby who’s also the CEO of a billion-dollar company.” “But they don’t even know any of that! I could be poor for all they know.” “A poor guy with state-of-the-art equipment and weapons.” “Maybe I got it at the Salvation Army,” Tim says. “They don’t know me, they don’t know my life.” “How did you even get this?” Duke asks, picking up the thin pile of documents to look them over again. “I’m guessing they didn’t mail it here.” Tim sighs, pillowing his head on his arms where they rest on the tabletop. “A pizza guy delivered it to me while I was patrolling in the east district. Looked scared out of his mind when he talked to me.” “This is why I do the Tony Stark thing and never let people hand me things. Keeps you out of legal trouble.” Duke takes the document on top of the stack and starts folding it into an airplane. Tim frowns. “I thought his reason was a trauma thing.” “Whatever, I have trauma too. Like watching you freak out over getting served between ass-kickings. It’s terrifying.” “What’s going on?” Bruce asks as he enters the kitchen. He charts a path straight for the freezer, taking out a carton of his favorite banana ice cream—the devil of all ice creams. It’s an insult just to have it in the house. “Tim’s getting sued by Red Robin,” Duke says with glee. Tim drops his chin on the table in misery. “But...you’re Red Robin. Is this for some identity-protection scandal?” “Nope,” Tim says. He pushes the legal documents across the table. Bruce picks them up curiously. “The restaurant is suing me for violating their copyright restrictions. Apparently they got offended that I borrowed their name, even though I’m technically not the one who came up with the idea of Red Robin in the first place.” Bruce’s eyebrows raise as he peruses the details of the lawsuit. “Wow. They’re serious about this.” “Yep.” “Are you going to fight it?” Tim shrugs. “I mean, I have to, right? I can’t just come up with a new name and costume design willy-nilly. Plus, I just started getting recognized as Red Robin. No more being called ‘the new guy’ in newspaper headlines. I can’t just give that up.” “For the record,” Duke says, holding up a finger, “I called this months ago.” “You did not.” “Oh, yeah? Ask Jason. I bet him fifty bucks three months ago that the Red Robin chain would sue your ass before the new year. Perfect timing, too. I can use the money to fix my Signal-cycle.” “You need to stop calling it that.” “I will never stop calling it that.” “I’m sure you can work this out with the company’s board,” Bruce says. “The Wayne Foundation can donate a few thousand dollars to their Gotham branch or something. Easy fix.” Tim rolls his eyes. “Oh, yeah, because they’ll never question why Bruce Wayne of all people is trying to solve a vigilante’s problems with money.” Bruce shrugs. “Well, I tried.” He goes to the silverware drawer for a spoon, effectively abandoning his son’s crisis. Duke folds another paper into a lopsided crane that, if anything, looks more like a demented pterodactyl. “You could always sell out and endorse them.” “What does that even mean?” “You know, buy a few burgers. Do a commercial or two. Get their logo printed on your cape. Advertising goes a long way in the world of business.” Tim snorts. “Yeah, like I’ll just go and turn my vigilante career into an advertising platform. I don’t even eat at Red Robin.” “Doesn’t seem like you have much of a choice,” Bruce chimes in, eating his disgusting banana ice cream straight out of the carton. “Unless you want to figure out a new identity and color scheme.” “Hm.” Tim strokes his chin, as if he has any hope of ever growing a beard. Maybe it is time I get an original nom de plume. I’ve been riding Jason’s coattail my whole life, first with Robin and now Red Robin. I should do something original for once.” He squints in thought. “Like...the Goose. I can wear a white costume with a feathered cape. It’ll be cool, like ABBA.” Duke makes a face. “That’s an image I’ll never get out of my head.” “Or I could do a dragon theme, like a dark green color scheme with scaly leather boots. And a tail!” “Do you want me to vomit? Is that your goal here?” Tim throws a balled-up napkin at him. “Fuck off, it’s a good idea.” “Because all of Gotham wants to watch you parade around in scaly leather kinkwear.” “Why not? Bruce does it.” “I’m leaving this conversation now,” Bruce announces. “Good luck with your legal troubles, Tim.” “I’ve got it!” Tim says after he’s gone, snapping his fingers. “Drake!” “Drake?” “Drake. It’s perfect.” “No.” “Why not?” “It’s too obvious.” “Which is precisely why it’s perfect. No one will suspect a thing.” Duke can’t believe that he ever thought Tim was the smart one. Nobody in this family is the smart one; they all share a single brain cell and Barbara has full custody of it. “When people google you, the only results they get will be of the rapper. Is that really what you want your legacy to be?” “That’s...actually a good point.” Tim clicks his tongue in disappointment. “Damn it.” “If you call up the Red Robin corporation I’m sure they’ll be thrilled to hear you want to advertise for them,” Duke says. “Just saying.” “No. No way. Mark my words, Duke—I will never sink so low as to publicly endorse a burger joint while taking down criminals. I’m an adult. I have pride. And I can come up with a way to get out of this lawsuit without selling out to capitalism.” -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Knock it off.” “Hold still, Timbo. I need to get a good picture of this.” “It’s not funny.” “It is very funny. It’s like an early birthday present, just for me.” Jason snaps a few more pictures with his phone, not even trying to be subtle about it. His helmet is off so Tim can properly see his shit-eating grin. “This might just be the best day of my entire life.” “You’re an ass.” “And you’re a dork with a gourmet burgers and brews logo on your back. You’re in no position to be judging anyone.” “It’s only for a month,” Tim reminds him. “All I have to do is patrol with this every night and eat at the restaurant in costume once a week. Then I’m free.” Jason laughs. “Yeah, I’m definitely sending this to the entire superhero community. They are going to lose their fucking minds.” “You wouldn’t dare.” Tim lunges for the phone, but Jason is half a foot taller and keeps it just out of reach. “Too late, it’s already sent.” “I hate you.” “Fine, fine, I’ll make it up to you. How about we get dinner, on me?” Jason’s grin widens. “Say...at Red Robin?” “Choke on shit and die.”

#i'm a serious writer clearly #this was barely edited whoops #batfamily #batfam #tim drake #red robin #robin #idiot duckboy #duke thomas #dc signal #bruce wayne #batman #jason todd #red hood #fanfiction #fanfic

[ereawrites]

Tim Drake x Reader - Envy

The first time he realises it's more than a stupid crush is mid-summer, sweat across the back of his neck, ice in his drink. Bruce has had a tough few weeks, and he's learning to surround himself with the people he cares about in times like these: besides, the weather is gorgeous, a rarity for Gotham, and so Bruce throws an extended family barbecue. 'Family' has always been a little tough to define, for Tim and for many others who share the Wayne name. Some - Dick, Jason, Damian, Cass - feel as though they could be his blood siblings, like they share more than a name and a vigilante identity and a proclivity for violence. Duke, Kon, and Jon have somehow become his annoying cousins who say, let me play the games on your phone, Tim, I know you get the unreleased ones, don't lie, but he loves them all the same.

It's when he sees you talking to Steph, the distant ex who he now considers one of his closest friends, that the depth of his feelings really hits him. You're in a swimsuit - he shouldn't stare, he shouldn't, it's summer and it's hot and it's perfectly normal for you to want to enjoy the pool while you're at the manor - with a cocktail in hand, golden sun catching in your hair, a warm smile lighting up your features, eyes crinkled up at the corners with laughter. Maybe Steph is telling an anecdote about the family; perhaps you're just enjoying this perfect day.

A giggle spills from your lips, shiny with the cherry-flavoured lip balm he knows you use, right as your gaze wanders across the pool and meets Tim's own. Although he's quick to react, transforming his face into a friendly smile and giving you a small wave, he has to fight back a blush from the shame of almost being caught staring. He isn't a creep. He isn't.

"Tim!", you exclaim, as he crosses around the pool and makes his way over to you and Steph. "I didn't know you could even come out in the sun! I hope you're wearing sunscreen."

Steph smirks. "You're all... milky. How long has it been since you left your computer screen?'

Tim feels your eyes drag down over his body, probably only because Steph's just pointed out how pale he is, but he's in a swimsuit too and he can feel your gaze burning hot on every inch of exposed skin. He huffs out a sarcastic laugh. "Funny, both of you. Duke attacked me with a bottle of SPF twenty minutes ago."

You and Steph dissolve into another fit of laughter: clearly the image of his assault is amusing to you. Tim would pretend to be more annoyed than he really is, maybe play it up a little to make you both feel bad, but he knows that you're only in a good mood. Why wouldn't you be? This is the first day you've had fully to yourself in weeks - he makes a point to stay updated on your activities, but he's not a creep, it's normal to take an interest - between your schoolwork and your internship. The hard work has paid off, though, and you've just graduated at the top of your class with a path straight into a major company. He can cut you some slack for now.

"Do either of you two know where I can find Damian?", Steph pipes up suddenly after a sip of her own drink. "I've gotta talk to him."

Tim exaggerates a disgusted tremble, which only earns him a playful slap from Steph and another little giggle from you. "Poor you. He's probably walking the dogs on the other side of the garden, or something - antisocial little shit."

"Damian, antisocial? I haven't heard from you in almost three weeks, Timothy Drake! You hypocrite!", Steph cries. Three weeks? He could've sworn it was only a week ago, at most; he FaceTimed her for a catch up, and she was talking about her crush on Kon's dad, and he'd explained he'd been busy because he'd been helping you write your thesis - but, wait, it hadn't even been the final section, so it must have been longer ago than he thought, because you submitted your final draft five days ago - shit.

Tim sighs. "Sorry, Steph. Actually, sorry to both of you. I... lost track of time, I guess?"

"I'll let you off this time, Drake-", Steph narrows her eyes at him, and tips back the last of her cocktail. "But you better repay me by having another drink ready for me when I come back."

She grins widely, and heads off to find Damian: God knows why she wants to talk to him when he's being so antisocial, but she's always had a way of drawing the young boy out of his shell. Tim chuckles under his breath, and turns to smile sheepishly at you.

"And you? What do I have to do to make you forgive me?", he offers. He's half-teasing, but there's a part of him that feels guilty. It's selfish. He knows it is; he's the one who finds himself wanting to spend so much time with you, not the other way around, and he sees you more than enough. You probably haven't even realised it's been four days since you last spoke to him.

You swirl the last dregs of your drinks thoughtfully, smiling at him - God, your smile is perfect, so soft and warm and kind - and then reach out to pat him on the shoulder. "I think I'm the one who owes you, you know."

Your touch lingers for just a fraction of a second and Tim is forced to suppress a shiver. "Meaning?'

"You've spent most of your free time for months helping me with schoolwork, Timmy! There's no way I would've been able to - actually, no, I would have managed fine without help - but you made it so much easier. I wish I could do more to thank you."

Tim waves away your gratitude with a small smile. "You've done plenty - besides, I enjoyed helping you."

"Why?", you grin, and the previous playfulness you'd exhibited with Steph is beginning to spark back up in your eyes. "Because my area of study interests you so much? Or is it just because I'm your favourite person?'

There are a million ways he could play this. This stupid, summer crush has been eating at him for weeks now, and Tim knows all too well that he's bad with emotions. He has no idea which course of action he should choose: flirt, or tease, or act aloof? Dick would dazzle you with a charming grin and a compliment - Jason would make a ridiculous, suggestive joke that somehow would be flirty instead of creepy - Damian (and Tim feels indescribable shame at the fact that his younger brother would be better at this than him) would brush the teasing off in a way that only drew you in.

"...Spending time with you isn't the worst thing in the world.", Tim settles on, and he mentally kicks himself as soon as the words leave his mouth. God, he isn't a creep, but he's stupid. So stupid. Almost as stupid as he is for developing a crush in the first place.

By some saving grace, your smile only widens. "So I am your favourite person?'

He needs another drink.

"You're in danger of losing that title.", he shrugs, and begins to head for the drinks table that Alfred so thoughtfully set up - you follow without question. "But, well, I wouldn't have spent all that time with you if, you know, I didn't like you. It was actually... kind of fun."

You fix yourself your own cocktail at the same time as him. It must be your favourite, since it's the same as the last one you were drinking, and Tim has to remind himself again that he's not a creep as he wonders how it would feel to kiss the taste of sweet alcohol off your lips. It's just a crush. He's going to get over it.

"Aww - I knew you loved me! Seriously, though - I did really enjoy spending that time with you. Even if you did spend half of it vibrating from caffeine overload, and the other half shouting at me for drinking caffeine myself.", you say.

He shrugs. "It's bad for you." Hypocrisy normally gets to Tim, but he can excuse the bad habit for himself. He can't help but worry about you.

The words that spill from your fruit-stained lips in response - teasing, as always, no more than that, stop it - and the glint in your eye and the little quirk of your mouth upwards; something about it just feels different and it makes his stomach lurch. "You're a bad influence, Timmy. I like it."

Fuck. He sips at his drink, too much vodka for his liking and too little ice, but oh well: he's got bigger things to worry about, like hiding how thickly he swallows. Like pretending he doesn't notice the faint sheen of sweat coating your collarbones, and the dip of your throat, spreading across your shoulders and down, down, dipping to your stomach - he pretends he doesn't notice. It's hot. You're warm. And a bit of sweat shouldn't get to him as much as it does.

"Every person here is a bad influence. You asked me for help, anyway. I'm starting to regret doing it.". That's a blatant lie and you both know it, but Tim doesn't know quite how to react other than with sarcasm. He feels like he's dancing with you every time he speaks to you, skating on paper-thin ice but loving the thrill - don't be so fucking dramatic, it's just a crush, stop it.

You roll your eyes and place your glass down onto the table. "I'm sorry. You're a fantastic influence, and you've made the last few months far more bearable. Thank you. I mean it."

And then you bring one hand to his shoulder, a feather-light touch that still sends him practically careening into ecstasy, and before Tim quite realises what's happening, you're pressing a friendly kiss to his left cheek.

You pull back with a smile. "I'll stop giving you shit for today, but only because I'm so grateful."

You just fucking kissed him. You were barely an inch away from his lips, close enough that he could almost smell your drink on your lips, and it was only a friendly gesture and he knows you do it with everyone and he knows it doesn't mean anything, to you, at least - but, to Tim, you've just punched right through his chest and grabbed his heart and squeezed, tight, snatched the breath right from his lungs and all rational thought from his brain; he wants, so badly, to lean forward and kiss you for real this time. He would, if he had the courage. He would, if he knew you felt the same way.

This is more than a stupid, summer crush.

Tim wants you to kiss him again. He wants to take your hand and parade you around the barbecue on his arm. He would lick the sweat off your fucking collarbones, if you would only let him. Maybe he is a creep. He doesn't care anymore.

Another sip of his drink. He's so fucked.

You don't notice the way his jaw tenses, or the way his breathing quickens; why would you? You're not looking for any kind of reaction, because, for you, it was just a kiss on the cheek, nothing more, nothing worthy of a revelation of his feelings.

"Oh, Tim - look, Kon's coming over!", you nudge him with your elbow, drink back in hand. Tim's too shellshocked to do anything other than follow your gaze, right over to where Kon's walking over to the two of you. He must have been in the pool with Jon and Dick, because his hair is wet and rivulets of water are running down his chest - Tim doesn't think he'll ever really get used to his best friend being so absolutely ripped. He hates it.

Kon fixes you with a beaming grin. "Hey, guys! What's with all the drinking? I though barbecues were for having fun and eating, not an alcohol club."

Tim forces a smirk: Kon will see right through him if he isn't careful, figure out what’s going on. The smile on your face, though, is wide and genuine, almost as big as Kon's.

"Says Aquaman over here.", you giggle. Kon shakes his head, flicking water at you, and you squeal and dash behind Tim.

Droplets of pool water land on Tim's face, filling his nose with the scent of chlorine instead of the scent of your drink, and he mourns the loss. "Careful, Kon. Chlorine can burn our skin right off. You wouldn't want to hurt us, right?"

The other male's eyes widen comically, and he mouths a seriously at Tim, concern evident in his gaze. Having a half-alien best friend has its drawbacks, but it's worth it for the tricks Tim gets to play.

You peek over Tim's shoulder and, upon determining that the coast is clear, step out and pout at him. "Don't tease - Kon, don't listen. He's stringing you along."

Tim scowls at you. "Fuck - you couldn't have played along for a few minutes? Seriously?"

Kon lets out a hearty chuckle, and out of nowhere he reaches his hand out towards you - for a moment, Tim just stares at it, wondering why his best friend is offering his hand to you. Then, you take it, that soft smile on your face, and Kon's pulling you into his chest and you're squeezing his hand and he's kissing you gently on the forehead.

"I knew I could rely on you.", Kon smiles, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. The penny begins to drop for Tim, but it's as if it's in slow motion - he sees the grand reveal coming, but he it doesn't quite sink in just yet.

You turn back to face Tim, keeping your fingers interlaced with Kon's so his arm wraps around your body and settles on your waist, pressing you into his side. "I - uh, sorry, Tim. Kon's still... getting the hang of how much PDA is acceptable."

Oh. Tim should have seen this coming. He should have noticed the signs; they all spring up in his mind now, the way Kon only ever seemed to blush around you, and the way Tim's noticed you checking Kon out during training a few times (he'd not thought much of it, you'd be blind not to), and the way both of you have been so suspiciously quiet about your love lives lately - maybe to protect his feelings, to make him feel like he's not the odd-one-out of the group, to avoid excluding him.

"It's fine,", he lies. "But, well - PDA? I didn't realise you two were... close like that."

Why is he torturing himself by asking for details?

You offer him an apologetic look. "I know you've been really busy, lately - you know, with work, and stuff. I thought it would be best to hold off on telling you about anything going on until you had less on your plate."

You don't say it with pity, like you know that he's been harbouring feelings for you: no, it's just friendly concern, knowing that he would want to know about your new crush and help you navigate it, because Tim is shit with his own feelings but he's got a penchant for helping others with their own.

"Thanks for being considerate. I wouldn't have minded helping you, you know.", Tim says. Another lie. It would have absolutely fucking killed him to help you, but at least he would have seen this coming. At least he could have prepared.

Kon squeezes you into his side, and then releases you so he can pour himself a drink. His bright blue eyes, kind and piercing, prompt Tim to speak again. "And, Kon - come on, buddy. Why didn't you say anything to me?"

Kon chuckles warmly. "I guess I didn't really realise what I was feeling, you know? I mean, I knew that it was different, but I didn't exactly know what it meant... or how to explain it."

Another piece of the puzzle falls into place. There's a domino effect in Tim's mind and right now he hates how intelligent he is, wishes he could turn it off for a second if only so that he would stop making deductions about this relationship that's sprung up right under his nose.

"You made the first move, then?", he asks, directed at you, and he can feel his smile starting to slip. There are beads of water on your waist in the wake of Kon's touch.

You let out a small, almost embarrassed laugh - Kon returns to your side, not touching you this time, but still standing in a way that makes it seem as though he's protecting you. "You could put it that way. I mean, nothing's official yet - no one even knows other than you and Steph and Jon, we're still figuring it out. We don't wanna make a big deal, you know?'

Tim doesn't know. He nods anyway. "I'm happy for you both."

The smile on his lips - vodka, ice, fruit - falters just a little too much and he knows Kon notices it. Bright blue eyes soften in worry, his mouth moves to ask if Tim's alright, but Tim just glances back at you; small smile on your lips, golden sun in your hair, happy.

"I'll have to go make sure that Bruce and Jason aren't in danger of blowing us all up in a gas explosion. I'll catch up with you two after.", Tim says, just before Kon can get any words out. He gestures aimlessly in the direction of the barbecue, and you and Kon nod in unison - together, a couple - and Tim throws back the last of his drink before he leaves.

He should be happy for you - he is, in a way, glad that Kon's found someone he can be vulnerable with and you've found someone who makes you happy. He should have been more convincing - he doesn't want either of you to worry. He should have seen this coming. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He should never have let himself start feeling anything for you in the first place.

Maybe, Tim thinks as he heads into the cool air of the manor and slips into a quiet room, closing the door behind him - maybe, if you hadn't have kissed him on the cheek, it would've been easier. He could've kept telling himself that this was just a stupid, summer crush, and it would've went away by the time the first snow fell in Gotham, and if worst came to worst he could've called Steph and distracted himself for a few nights. The thought of that, of touching anyone else, makes him feel sick now.

Tim runs his hands through his hair and tugs desperately at the ends. He has no idea how he's meant to come back out to the barbecue, watch Kon kiss the taste of sweet alcohol off your lips, think about Kon's hands on your body - he can't do this. He can't.

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