#jon kent x gender neutral reader

[unmotivatedwrit3r]

Cloudy Christmastime

damian wayne x reader x jonathan kent

(A/N): Before anyone protests, I headcanon the Wayne family as celebrating both Jewish holidays like Yom Kippur and Hanukkah as well as Christmas and Easter because yes, Bruce is ethnically Jewish (though may have done Christmas as well) but Dick/Jason/Tim/Steph would have likely celebrated Christmas. So they do both.

Anyway, this is a christmas gift for @glorified-red and literally the 5th take on this fic bc they first said Hallmark movie, then damijon hallmark movie, then whump. And then it took me three tries to get something I was close to happy with so I hope you enjoy. This ended up being a mix of domestic fluff and h/c.

warnings: sensory overload

wc: ~2600

~~

“Tell me again why Santa doesn’t bring us gifts if he’s real. Like our dads have met him. And he still doesn’t bring us presents,” Jon lamented from the couch, bundled up in four blankets. 

From your spot on the floor by the tree, you looked up, an eyebrow raised in amusement. “Because we’re not kids anymore? And how do you know Santa ever brought us gifts?” 

“Perhaps,” Damian added, passing Jon a cup of hot chocolate. He placed a second cup on the coffee table and lifted one to his lips. “He only brought gifts to people to make a point. I never received any from him as a child but father has gotten many over the years.” 

Jon listed to the side, head landing on Damian’s shoulder. “I think that’s worse.”

For the first time in a while, Jon felt Damian’s huff of laughter more than he heard it. Your small chuckle was similarly inaudible. Jon hated solar flaring. Not only was it a pain to deal with for the day and change—one could argue he got either lucky or really unlucky by solar flaring the morning of Christmas Eve—but it always threw his senses out of whack as they trickled back in. And, with the gray skies of Gotham’s winter, Jon was expecting it to be even weirder than usual. It was worth it though, to him, in order to spend the day itself with his partners. It was enough that the Kent family Christmas Eve was ruined by Lex Luthor. He wasn’t going to let his Christmas day be ruined too. 

“I’m sorry, mi sol,” you offered with a shrug and a smile. Jon met your grin with his own. A full-body shiver wracked his frame. Your gaze turned concerned. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” Jon agreed, “Just chilly.” Damian’s arm wrapped further around Jon, pulling their sides flush against each other. Jon maneuvered the blankets away to soak in his warmth. 

“Ameli, we can turn the heat up,” Damian offered. 

“Nope,” Jon argued, nuzzling into Damian’s neck. “This is good.” Damian’s resulting huff of air teased at the hair on the top of Jon’s head. 

“Mi luna?” You asked from the floor. Damian turned to look at you. Jon followed, eyes traveling over the mound of presents arranged under the tree. There was a pile around the back of the tree against the wall for Damian’s family (Jon still needed to give Dick his gift from the Hanukkah celebration a couple weeks ago. The blue dreidel paper was obvious against the sea of brown, red, and green wrapping paper.), and a smaller one for yours. The empty gap left behind after the Kent Christmas was already filled in with a large box Jon was like ninety percent sure was a new easel for Damian. You ordered it, not him, but Jon couldn’t think of anything else on any of your lists that was even close to that size. “Can you hand me that please?” You gestured to a precarious stack on the coffee table. 

Damian acquiesced, passing over a teetering pile of vaguely book-shaped items. Who those were for was anyone’s guess. Jon was grateful Alfred had helped you and him pay for some of the gifts for Damian. Looking at the gift tags, it otherwise would have been horribly uneven. And Damian himself wouldn’t have minded, Jon knew, but you and him would have been upset about it anyway. He deserves the world, your rohi. Damian pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of you, still arranging presents under the tree. He showed it quickly to Jon before texting it to him immediately. 

“This look okay?” You asked, peeking out from behind the tree. Jon looked it over. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for exactly, but he also wasn’t exactly the reigning opinion on artistic presentation. 

“It looks fine, hayati” Damian said, eyes still trained on his phone. You narrowed your eyes at him. 

“You didn't even look.” 

Damian turned to look at you. “Because I knew it looked fine, beloved.” His eyes scanned the presents. “And it does.” 

You shook your head at him, exasperated, before conceding and sitting heavily on the couch. Scooching in, you nearly pressed up against Jon’s other side. 

“Come closer,” He whined, untangling a hand from the blankets to grab yours. “You’re warm.” 

Jon could feel the look exchanged over his head. 

“I’m not that warm,” you argued even as you grabbed the TV remote from the coffee table and arranged the blankets so that you could fit underneath. “You’re just cold.” 

Jon shrugged. The hand that wasn’t holding yours reached underneath Damian’s shirt and he swore, grabbing Jon’s wrist to keep its chill away. Another look passed over Jon’s head. He wondered sometimes if the two of you were aware he knew what you were doing and just didn’t care. Probably. 

“Are you sure you’re okay, amorcito?” You asked. Jon shrugged. 

“It’s cold outside and I’m human but otherwise yeah. I have you two,” he added smugly. Damian’s playful shoulder hit came at the same time as your muttered “sap.” Jon grinned. “So because I’m sick—sort of—I get to pick the movie. And we’re watching Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” Despite the protests on both sides, the movie was playing before Damian could even get up to turn the lights off. To the side of the couch, the lights on the Christmas tree bathed the room in a soft white glow. 

~

Jon awoke to a cold bed. On a good day, he’d wake with the sun—or whenever it wormed its way through the bedroom’s black out curtains—or to an international emergency. Okay, not that the emergency was good, just that he was feeling good enough to know it was happening. On a bad day, all bets were off. Jon stuck his hand out of the covers, searching blindly for his phone. After a moment of finding nothing but the wood of the end table, the scratchiness of the sheets was unignorable and he gave up, flinging back the covers to get out of bed. Hanging over the side of the dresser was a dark red sweatshirt. Jon grabbed it and tugged it on, rubbing his arms to get the lingering echo of the sheets off his skin. His off kilter super hearing zeroed in on the crooning of Michael Bublé before zooming back out into the general background noise coming from the kitchen. Jon winced, squaring his shoulders. That was a bad sign. But it was Christmas; he’d be fine. 

A quick squint at his phone told Jon that it was just after noon. No wonder the bed was cold. Jon shivered, then grabbed a pair of your fuzzy socks before opening the bedroom door. 

The smell of cinnamon and chocolate coming from the kitchen was pleasant rather than unbearable. Jon let himself breathe it in as he approached quietly. He didn’t even notice you behind him—though that was often true of an average day—before there were arms around his waist and a head on his shoulder. He let himself lean back into the warmth of you. 

“Merry Christmas, mi amor. How are you feeling?” you inquired. Hot breath ghosted across his neck. Jon shrugged. 

“Fine. Excited for today.” He spun around to face you, eyes taking in your christmas pj pants and sweater with a Robin logo. Over your shoulder, Jon could see flashes of blue, likely Damian’s nightwing sweatshirt. “Merry Christmas,” he added, tucking his nose into the spot just underneath your ear for just a moment. No matter what his super senses were like, he took comfort in the smell of the two of you. A hand weaved through his hair, a kiss pressed to the top of his head. Jon pulled back just enough to give you a peck on the lips before being spun around into a kiss from Damian. 

“Merry Christmas, my heart,” Jon muttered, pressing a second lingering kiss to Damian’s jawline. A steady heartbeat pulsed under his fingers, wrapped around Damian’s wrist. 

“Good morning,” Damian said, wrapping an arm around Jon to keep him close. Jon blindly reached out and a second calloused hand found his. A second warm body curled around him. He missed your heartbeats’ song in his ears, but Damian’s pounding steadily under his ear and yours fluttering underneath his fingertips was good enough for right then. “Are you alright?” Damian continued. “It’s late.” His voice was echoey underneath Jon’s ear and Jon flinched instinctively. The two of you reacted immediately, pulling back. 

“Jon?” you asked, voice laced with concern. 

“Yeah,” he managed. “I’m mostly good. About as expected, you know?” Jon offered up a smile. By the looks on your faces, it didn’t do as much reassurance as he’d hoped. “I’m sorry I slept so late.” 

“Don’t apologize,” Damian argued. “There is no reason to.” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Jon sighed. 

“How are you feeling about breakfast, mi sol?” You asked, tangling your fingers with his. 

“Sounds good,” Jon agreed. 

~

“Oh yeah I should definitely send Dick a text to thank him. And also say Merry Christmas,” Jon said, flopping down on the couch after breakfast. With his partners looking happy, Christmas music in the background, and a breakfast of vegan pancakes in his stomach, Jon could almost forget about the buzzing under his skin. 

“Tt,” Damian scoffed. “He would have swapped with me anyway. Gordon and Father are both working tonight so it was pointless for him to have the evening off.”

Jon shrugged. “Still, doesn’t hurt to say thanks.” 

“Say hi from me too,” you yelled over the running kitchen sink. After a moment more, the water shut off and Jon released a silent sigh at the absence of an irritating bit of noise. He was lucky the x-ray vision hadn’t started acting up. Not only was that like the antithesis of Christmas presents (his mom kept presents out of the house or in a lead box until morning for that very reason), but it was also a huge pain and the hardest to hide. Screwy touch and hearing was more than enough. Dishware clanked around in the kitchen as Damian sat beside Jon on the couch. 

“No change?” He asked, reaching for a Nightwing mug of cider on the coffee table. 

Jon shrugged. “Nope, nothing yet.” Damian narrowed his eyes and Jon attempted to start coming up with excuses. At the very least, he could probably get Damian to leave it alone until after gifts. Less so if you noticed too and started teaming up on him. 

“Ready for presents?” You asked, sitting down on the other side of Damian. You raised the untouched Superman mug to your lips, eyes scanning over Jon. 

“Yes!” Jon butt in before you could say anything. “Let’s do it.” 

You and Damian exchanged a look. On the floor below, the elevator dinged, releasing a family with a horde of kids. “Okay,” you conceded, standing to grab the first load of presents.

In the apartment directly underneath, the front door squealed open. A load of presents was slammed down on the floor beside him. Three kids squealed “gramma!” in unison. Jon’s hoodie was all of the sudden suffocating him. 

Jon jumped up and yanked the sweatshirt over his head, pawing the sleeves off before yanking his socks off too. He didn’t care where they ended up. His hands went up to press against his ears. Stumbling over his own feet, Jon meandered backwards until his back slammed into a wall and then slid down, knees up and head with ears still covered in between them. Sounds zoomed in and out. All of the sudden, he could hear Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer playing eight floors down, then A Christmas Carol on someone’s TV across the street. Focus! Jon yelled at himself through all the noise. One steady beat came into focus, then another. 

Until there was a soft item brushing his feet, Jon didn’t realize he had company. A steady beat pulsed in his ears, too loud even for its familiarity. He pulled the blanket close. Something plastic nudged his shoulder and Jon grabbed it instinctively, slamming special-made headphones over his ears. The sounds faded down into something manageable. Jon took a deep breath. And then another. He didn’t need to hear to know that the two of you were there. When he reached out tentatively with his sense of smell, the usual wave of cinnamon-vanilla-brown sugar-clove and somethings just the two of you tempered by pine and peppermint was comforting rather than overwhelming. Jon let it wash over him, clutching the soft weighted blanket to his chest. 

When he cracked his eyes open, two blurs blinked into focus as his partners, leaning against the back of the couch and hands linked. Damian’s head rested on your shoulder, one of your hands tangled in his hair. Jon noticed as soon as Damian saw he was up. He almost slammed his head into your chin as he shot up and Jon huffed a laugh.  

“Ameli?” Damian asked. Your eyes locked onto Jon’s. 

“You guys shouldn’t sit on the floor,” Jon responded. “It’s bad for your backs.”

You offered Jon a hand, ignoring his remark completely. Jon’s chest ached. If you weren’t willing to banter, he’d scared you. “How are you feeling?”   

Jon took the hand and stood, adjusting the headphones so they stayed on his head. He tossed the blanket over his shoulder and reached his other hand out towards Damian before tugging the both of you up and towards the couch. 

“I’m okay,” Jon reassured you, sitting down on the couch. “I promise.” When neither of you moved, he tugged you both down on top of him, interrupting the bat-assessment written all over Damian’s face.  

“Promise like this morning?” Damian argued. Jon winced. 

“Okay, yeah maybe I shouldn’t have—”

“Been a self-sacrificial dumbass as if we don’t a) know you and b) want you to talk to us?” You cut in. Jon could read the hurt underneath the anger clear as day. His fingers brushed over two sets of knuckles, one scarred from years of fighting without protective gear, the other dry from the winter air. 

“I know. I just wanted today to be a good day, you know? We never get uninterrupted holidays.” Jon resisted the urge to pull his hands away from yours and curl into himself. The two burning gazes on him were ones of love and concern, though, not judgment. 

“And for some reason you think accommodating you makes the day worse, why?” Damian asked. Jon didn’t have an answer. 

“We love you, Jon. Eres nuestro pareja. We picked ‘partners’ for a reason, yeah?”  You squeezed his hand in yours. 

“Yeah,” he agreed, head dropping to your shoulder. Silence was heavy in the room for a moment. 

“You choose what we do next,” Damian stated, tugging the blacket from its bundled blob to instead cover you and Jon. 

Jon moved from your shoulder to halfway on top of Damian, tugging you on top of him. “You guys are going to squish me in between you while we watch a movie and then we can do presents?” 

You shot him a wicked smile. Jon shrieked as Damian pulled him bodily half on top of him along the couch, cut off when you landed nearly on top of Jon. 

“Good?” You asked. Jon let himself sink into Damian, arms coming up to wrap around your waist. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Good.”

Damian grabbed the remote. “We’re not watching Elf.”

Jon stuck his tongue out at him.  

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x reader x jonathan kent #damian wayne x reader x jon kent #jon kent x reader #damian wayne x gender neutral reader #damian wayne #jonathan kent #jon kent x gender neutral reader #emerson writes sometimes

[keenzinemugstudent]

Okay this is a new story I was thinking about when I was at work what if Clark and you were in a relationship but after he met Lois your relationship with him starting to drift and you break up you leave Metropolis and years go by Clark meets you again because the team needed your help but he also sees that you're with a child that strangely looks like him come to find out before you left you find out were pregnant and were planning to tell him but you caught him and Lois together so you left without telling him that you were pregnant with his child🤭😲😏I'm a terrible person but I love drama and Angst.

#clark kent #dc x reader #chubby reader #clark kent x reader #superman x lois #batman v superman #lois lane #bruce wayne #diana prince #wonder woman x reader #batman x reader #superman x you #clark kent x you #your name #dc x gender neutral reader #superman x black reader #black reader #jon kent #henry cavill superman #man of steel #kon el superboy #dc angst #superman x reader #henry cavill fic

[bluebirdsboi]

Guide

Hey there, I’m Jay (he/they). Welcome to my fanfic blog! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My main motivation for making my blog is because I’ve noticed a lack of male reader and/or gender neutral reader works for many of the characters that I love, but also because writing is one of my favorite pastimes.

I won’t lie, I do tend to oscillate between characters and fandoms that I’m motivated to write for, but I will try my best to maintain or improve the quality of each piece that I write. 

Below I have linked my masterlist navigation in addition to the fandom and character list as well as listing my request guidelines, fandoms I’m most motivated to write for at the moment, characters that are on hold (characters I will write for in the future but I’m not at the moment), future fandoms that I will write for, and a list of my current WIPS for any requests you may have.

** I’ve opened a taglist, so if you want to be tagged in any future fics, feel free to send me either an ask or a DM **

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Links

Masterlist Navigation

Fandom/Character List | Last Updated: 8/20/23

Fanfic Recs. | Last Updated: 7/29/23

My second blog My AO3 My Wattpad

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Currently, requests are: Open

Request Guidelines 

I will write...

- Male Character x Male/Gender Neutral Reader - Female Character x Female Reader by request only - Platonic relationships - Parent Character x Child Reader (purely familial)  - Sibling Character x Sibling Reader (purely familial) - Fluff, Angst, Hurt Comfort, and Smut (any character that is under 18 will be aged up to be over 18. Ex: ProHero!Izuku or ProPlayer!Daichi) - Songfics and some AUs (just ask) - Series, Oneshots, Headcanons, and Alphabet Headcanons

I won’t write...

- Male Character x Female Reader - Female Character x Male Reader - Ships - Yandere fics - Pedophilia and Underage Smut - Incest of any kind - Forced sex - Pregnancy and/or period fics

* If you have any questions about something I didn’t list, don’t be afraid to ask. My DMs are always open in case I close my asks. *  

** As a side note, I’d appreciate any requests to have a general idea about what you want. It doesn’t have to be extremely specific, but just something to work with. ** 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fandoms I’m most motivated to write for: | Last Updated: 8/14/23

- 9-1-1 - MCU - Spider-verse - Star Wars - The Last of Us - Triple Frontier

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Fandoms I will write for in the future: | Last Updated: 8/14/23

- 9-1-1 Lone Star - Game of Thrones - Kingsman - Narcos - Scenes From a Marriage - Snake Eyes - The Witcher

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Current WIPS: | Last Updated: 7/3/23

- Clint Barton x Male Reader - Iroh II x Male Reader  - Zuko x Male Reader - Tonraq x Male Reader (Will contain NSFW) - Mako x Male Reader  - Tonraq x Male Reader (Will contain NSFW) - Zuko x Male Reader - Iroh II x Male Reader - Mako x Male Reader - Keishin Ukai x Male Reader

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Characters currently on hold: | Last Updated: 8/20/23

- Carlos Reyes (Rafael Silva) (9-1-1 Lone Star) - Ravi Panikkar (Anirudh Pisharody) (9-1-1) - Tyler Kennedy “TK” Strand (Ronen Rubinstein) (9-1-1 Lone Star) - Clark Kent (Henry Cavill) (DC) - Gyomei Himejima (Demon Slayer/KNY) - Konro Sagamiya (Fire Force/ENS) - Atsumu Miya (Haikyuu!!) - Kita Shinsuke (Haikyuu!!) - Osamu Miya (Haikyuu!!) - Remus Lupin (David Thewlis) (Harry Potter) - Screwllum (HSR) - Frank Castel (Jon Bernthal) (MCU) - Matt Murdock (Charlie Cox) (MCU) - Peter Parker (Andrew Garfield) (MCU) - Estarossa/Mael (SDS/NNT) - Obi-Wan Kenobi (Star Wars)

#welcome #guide #fandom #fanfic #fanfiction #multi fandom

[fandom-writer642]

Street Rat Christmas

Summary: It’s (Y/n)’s first Christmas season with their new family but they don’t want to give up an old tradition. The problem? Jason and Selina are the only one’s in the family that have heard of the tradition, a Street Rat Christmas. The Batfamily, the Kent’s, and the Outlaws are going to be in for the culture shock of their lives as they find out why Christmas Eve and Christmas Morning are always so peaceful in the City of Demons, no matter the crimes that took place just before.

Note: Gender Neutral!Reader, Sweet and Friendly!Reader

Warning: Mention of Death

•••

Yet another sigh escaped from (Y/n)’s lips as they watched the snow gently fall to the ground through the window. The book that they were reading was abandoned in their lap as their (e/c) eyes watched the snowflakes shine and float down in the golden sunlight. Damian couldn’t help but frown at his sibling’s actions, he had been with his father for the past five years and he himself understood that Christmas was a time to be happy. Yet, he couldn’t seem to wrap his head around the fact that his normally happy sibling was depressed. Even Damian felt rather pleasant and calm during the two days the holiday was overly focused on.

“Is something the matter (L/n)? Typically you’re more chipper.”

“It’s just my first Christmas without my parents,” (Y/n) replied to him rather sadly. They were remembering how fun Christmas Eve and Christmas Morning always was for their family. Perhaps they could sneak out tonight and join the festivities? “It’s strange, we would be out preparing by now.”

Damian gave (Y/n) a rather quizzical look at that. He understood when they said that they would miss their parents, he couldn’t blame them. However, (Y/n) didn’t come from an amazing or rich family so the preparation note caught him off guard. (Y/n) could’ve been dubbed a street rat by many different people before Bruce had adopted them, and Damian was pretty sure that they had been called a street rat before. Hearing them say preparing was a strange thing, it wasn’t possible for their family since they couldn’t afford something big. Yet, it sounded like a yearly thing for his newest sibling to go through during the holiday season. (Y/n) shot him a smile before they left for their room, taking their book with them. Damian left the study shortly after (Y/n) had left and found himself at the enterance of the living room.

The room was lovely and had many decorations hung up around the room, making it look like the room had been part of a winter wonderland competition and the music in the background was a nice touch. Dick was sitting in an arm chair with Kori on his lap as the pair talked to Roy and Jason who sat on the closer end of the couch. Tim was talking to Kon and Lois on the other side of the couch while Cass talked quietly with Steph, Barbara, and Kate. Selina was sitting next to Bruce as he talked with Clark who had Jon at his side. The room was rather busy with chatter and far too loud for his tastes but he had learned to live with it at this point.

“Hey Damian!” Jon called out to his friend when he noticed him at the entryway. All conversation turn to a pivoting stop to the point that the sweet Christmas songs filled the air of the room. It was a known fact that Damian didn’t spend much time with his family on Christmas Eve until after lunch which was in two hours. “I was wondering where you were.”

Damian nodded his own greeting and understanding to his friend’s words. “I’m sure Jon. I’m however curious about something that doesn’t quite involve me but it does involve (L/n).”

That had caught the whole room’s attention. Everyone knew that (Y/n) was a helpful and sweet soul with little to absolutely no hurtful bone in their whole body.

“Is she alright?” Dick asked worriedly.

“Currently, I’m unaware. I’m well aware that it is their first Christmas without their family but they said something that peaked my interest.”

“What was it?”

“Well, they simply said that their family and themself would be out preparing for some sort of event at this point in time.”

Damian didn’t miss the look that Selina and Jason shared with the other, or the faint smiles on their lips. They had a look in their eyes that was similar if not identical to the one (Y/n) had held not that long ago.

“Preparing for what?” Tim asked curiously. His younger sibling tended to keep closer to Damian and Jason more than anyone else the family knew with the exception perhaps being Alfred.

Damian simply shook his head and kept himself from insulting the older boy, “I’m unaware. It simply peaked my interest because as we all know, (L/n) didn’t come from a very financially stable family. The way that they talked made it sound like an annual event.”

“A tradition on Christmas Eve? In Gotham?” Roy had almost laughed in disbelief. “That’s completely ridiculous. You said it yourself demon spawn, (Y/N) came from a pretty poor family, they don’t exactly have an overwhelming amount their family and them could do.

“No true,” Jason cut off before anyone could agree with his redhead friend. “I actually knew (Y/n) before she ever even met Bruce and moved in because of the festivities that take place on Christmas Eve and Christmas morning. Most people call it a Street Rat Christmas but the official term is a Street Rat Holiday. To put it simply, it’s the only break any street rat or poor family tends to get throughout the whole year.”

Bruce leaned forward at the newly acquired information. To him it sounded just like a charity event that takes place on Christmas Eve and Christmas in the worker side of town. The man couldn’t help but feel surprised that he had never heard of such an event even though he lived in Gotham for so long.

“How much do you know about it?” Tim asked.

“A lot,” Jason replied with a simple shrug of his shoulders. “I still tend to go every Christmas Eve no matter what. I don’t count the years I was either dead or presumably dead but I still go, I don’t care if there is a mission, I go.”

“What happens?

“Peace,” Jason smiled slightly. “We should go tonight. You guys just can’t attack or snap at anyone, you have to enjoy yourselves.”

“Why on earth would we snap or attack?” Dick spoke in surprise.

Jason couldn’t stop the small snort or the smirk pulling on his face. “Villains attend the festivities as well. There was an arrangement made between the villains, people, and GCPD that as long as they didn’t harm or make any sort of threats to anyone for that night or the next morning that they could attend.”

“And people talk and interact with them?” Kate spoke up, looking rather stunned by the information.

Selina couldn’t help but nod in agreement, “indeed. I attended a few years back and (Y/n) was there with their family while talking to all sorts of people. They mostly talked to Riddler, Two-Face, and Penguin when it came to interacting with the villains but they did interact with every villain. That includes Joker. Their family was always active in helping set up the event.

Jon had perked up like a puppy dog before speeding out of the room and up the stairs before coming back with a rather flustered looking (Y/n) in his arms. Gently he set them down on the floor which caused them to let out a small sigh of relief. It wasn’t like they didn’t trust Jon, they did, but it was different when he came into their room, picked them up and rushed them down to the living room at super speed. They were still getting used to the whole “living with superheroes” thing as it had only been two months since they moved in.

“What is going on?” They questioned after a moment.

“Just talking about how a Street Rat Christmas functions,” Jason replied to his younger sibling.

No one could miss the way that (Y/n)’s eyes had lit up at the mention of the event. They seemed happier almost immediately at the reminder of the event.

“Oh! Can we go?” (Y/n) turned to Bruce with large kitten eyes that Selina most definitely approved of. “Pleeeeaaaassseee?”

Bruce chuckled at his child’s beg for approval. He already knew what his choice was going to be but first, “I want to know more about this event before I agree to anything.”

“Well, where did I leave off?” Selina wondered. The newest family addition sat on the floor near Bruce and Selina while dragging Damian down and over with them.

“Villains,” Kori reminded.

Selina snapped her fingers with a smile, “right!”

–––

The group had arrived at a large park filled with people and laughter. A giant tree stood tall in the middle of the park and was decorated with all sorts of different and even strange ordiments that were clearly brought or made by the people at the party. Damian could help but let a faint smile appear on his lips as his sibling dragged him toward the main party.

None of the secret heroes could miss the villains in the crowd that greeted the pair with an honest to god real smile. They even saw Joker gift (Y/n) with a very pretty box, the fact made them tense at the sight but for some reason Jason was calm about it. He was calm about seeing his murderer gift his little sibling with a box that could very easily hold a trigger bomb. It made no sense and yet that is how it played out. The young Wayne had opened the gift with a smile and found it to be a purple and green scarf, something that was clearly made with the help of the Riddler.

The family moved around and tried the different activities such as a snow man building contest (Tim and Dick got third place), a scavenger hunt (Damian, Jason, and (Y/n) had easily won that), dance battle to Christmas music (Selina joined forces with Ivy and they got fifth), create an ordiment to hang on the giant tree, ice Christmas cookies, drink hot cocoa, ice skating, a Christmas song karaoke challenge, and many more events. Homeless kids and families were given blankets and clothes as well as other supplies at the end of the night. At three minutes to midnight everyone had gathered around the tree and many were talking excitedly, the kids especially.

“We wish you a merry Christmas”

The Waynes were surprised when everyone began to sing in perfect harmony, the villains, Jason, (Y/N), Selina, and many others were leading the uncertain children and newcomers in the song. Jason had a young girl in his arms who was singing along with him while looking at the glowing tree.

“We wish you a merry Christmas/ We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year”

Dick, Kori, Roy, and Steph had joined in the singing as well but to their surprise so had Damian. It was much quieter than the others but still noticeable enough.

“Good tidings we bring to you and your kin/We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year”

As everyone sang Bruce had decided one thing, he was going to have to participate in a Street Rat Christmas every year until he died. His family had been happier than they have in ages while Selina, Jason, and (Y/n) all got to keep a familiar tradition close to them and have the time to remember those that they love and miss; they all did.

•••

Merry Christmas and happy holidays! I hope you all have enjoyed this mini story and have a good holiday! I’m so sorry about lack of activity but I’ve been sooooo busy and a lot of things have been going on with my family so I’ve been stressed. Cya next time! I’m planning Batfamily x Reader x Miraculous Ladybug with Damianette in it, I’ve fallen into a hole and I can’t get out. That story will probably be a series but bare with me, I have little to know means to write as of recent do to issues.

#batsiblings #batfam x reader #have yourself a merry little christmas #street rat Christmas #gender neutral reader #dick grayson #tim drake #bruce wayne #selina kyle #jason todd #kate kane #barbara gordon #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #damian wayne #clark kent #lois lane #jon kent #kon kent #kori #roy harper #happy holidays

[fandomout]

DC

All fics are meant to be Gender Neutral. If you find one that isn't, let me know because they are supposed to be.

Dick Grayson

Dick Grayson x Reader- Healing him and feelings confronted (From the rl show)

Jon Kent (Lois and Clark)

Jon Kent Imagine/Preference CW Lois and Clark-Comforting Jon when he's upset about Eliza

Full Masterlist

#dcuimagines #dc imagine #dick grayson imagine #jon kent imagine #cw lois and clark #masterlist #dc masterlist #imagine #preference #dc preference #dc #one shot #dc one shot #gender netural reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral imagine #gender neutral insert

[kimberly-spirits13]

Superboy Jon Kent x (gender neutral) reader request 

#superboy x reader #superfamily x reader #superfam #superman #jon kent #jon kent x reader #jon kent imagine #dc comics #dc x reader #dc characters #mood board #teen titans x reader #teen titans #teen titans x y/n

[wonderswritings]

Request Guidelines

I’ve had a lot of people messaging me asking what my guidelines are for requesting because the one I have up does not have enough information on it so I’ve updated my guidelines:

*When you request something, please Be Clear with what you want. I need more than steve rogers smut or fluff? This gives me nothing to write with.

*I reserve the right to reject a request. I try my hardest to write each request I receive but it does get the best of me and I never get around to do it. If you do send in a request and I do not either:  1) know who the person is  2) you hound me repeatedly for the story, on or off anon 3) I’m uncomfortable writing it, I have the right not to write it

*If you request anything NSFW, you MUST be older than 18. I can not stress how important this is.

*I will do oneshots, drabbles, imagines, mood boards, and a short series (if needed)

If you do not follow the guidelines, I WILL delete the request.

Do NOT hound me. I understand asking about, or seeing if I’ve gotten the request because of how stupid Dumblr is, but hounding me to write it and publish it is not going to make me write it any faster or post it and there is a chance that I’ll just delete the ask. 

Here is a list of who I will write for: Marvel: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Thor, T’Challa, Clint Barton, Logan Howlett Supernatural: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester The Walking Dead: Rick Grimes, Daryl Dixon, Jesus DC Comics: Oliver Queen, Barry Allen, Mon-El, Clark Kent, Bruce Wayne Vampire Diaries/Originals: Damon Salvatore, Stefan Salvatore Klaus Mikaelson, Elijah Mikaelson Actors: Chris Evans, Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Stephen Amell, Grant Gustin, Norman Reedus, Andrew Lincoln

I am willing to write: Marvel: Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Pietro Maximoff, Wanda Maximoff, Peter Parker, Loki, Peter Quill Supernatural: Crowley, Rowena, John Winchester The Walking Dead: Carl Grimes, Glenn Rhee, Negan DC Comics: Kara Danvers, Wally West, Sara Lance, Ray Palmer, Nathan Heywood, Leonard Snart, Aquaman Actors: Tom Holland, Chandler Riggs, Daniel Gillies, Chris Hemsworth, Kit Harington,  Jason Momoa   Game of Thrones: Robb Stark, Jon Snow, Tyrion Lannister, Jaime Lannister, Khal Drogo Greys Anatomy: Derek Shepherd, Mark Sloan, Owen Hunt, Alex Karev, Jackson Avery

I will not write: Polyamory, Incest, Smut for Peter Parker, Carl Grimes, Tom Holland and Chandler Riggs

Frequently asked Questions: Do you write person of colors stories? I have never written for a person of color for the simple fact that I wouldn’t know how to write them. There’s differences between a white person and a person of color so I wouldn’t know how to portray them without offending anyone.

How do you feel writing for the LGBTQ community? I am comfortable writing for the LGBTQ community, I just tend not to unless someone requests me to. I do not want to offend anyone so most of my stories the reader is a girl, and a few stories I will do a gender neutral reader

Do you write male x male, female x female? I have written a girl x girl story where the requester asked for Supergirl to be switched as her male counterpart but I wrote it as a girl x girl story. I also have a Black Widow story that hints at a little something in the past which is a girl x girl. If someone requests a specific pairing like male x male or girl x girl, I would have no problem writing it.

How do you write Y/N? Y/N is generally based off of me. I try not to write any descriptive pieces about hair/face/body because not everyone has what I write Y/N to be. If I do describe the appearance it is most always based off of me.

How do you feel about people talking to you either on your post or through your messages/anon? I have no problem with you talking to me. You can talk to me through private messaging if you don’t want it to be public, or you can talk to me through asks. If you send in an anon, I only ask that you are nice and polite. I’ve had to cut off anon and delete a lot of messages I’ve received because of the little assholes who think they’re entitled to be a dick because I haven’t done something that they like. 

Do you have other writing profiles? Wattpad: Marvel_base001

How do you tag? On my side blog @capstags where my tagging system is, I have lists for each thing I write. Anything related to that topic, I tag you in it. I do ask that you reblog or comment to be tagged just because it shows that you are active

Will you put your beliefs/religion in a story you write? No. My religion and beliefs may not be the same as another persons and I do not want to offend anyone.

Do you have a permanent taglist? Originally, no. But recently I made a new taglist that is for permanent tags. That list, well post, is at @capstags and it should be the first post on there. 

Will you write a story for an OC? If I have to. I tend to stay away from having to write OC’s just because of the variety of readers.

Do you write ships? No. I don’t have any interest in writing any type of ships. If I do write a story that involves a character x character story and it just so happens to a be ship, it’s coincidental. I don’t really write stories where the main pairing is a ship.

How long does it take you to upload another story chapter or a new story? I don’t actually have a time frame for when I post an update to a series or a new story. I usually will post a new story when I feel as though my followers feel as though I don’t write enough or posted enough, or when notes have gone down. For my series, it’s mainly whenever I have the next part written, or whenever I actually remember to post it.

You have a lot of discontinued stories on your master list, why? Well, for starters when I started those stories, I was really excited to share them. Then after I posted one or two parts to the story, the enthusiasm I had for it dwindled because of the response I got for it so I just stopped writing it. I have added more discontinued stories to my master list because I know for a fact that I won’t update them and it’s unfair to my readers/followers to have it open where it leaves it open for a possible update when I know I’m not going to. 

Do you do challenges or anything along those lines? I have in the past done a challenge and I had only two people to actually participate. I do ships once in a blue moon but the last ships I did turned out to be a total disaster thanks to some very rude anons. I also participate in other peoples challenges. If it is a challenge that last a year or a few months (like my bingo cards) then I’ll open up a new tallest for that specific challenge, though sometimes I forget to tag that list in those challenges because I have a lot of tag lists. 

Will you ever update your old unfinished series? Honestly, probably not. I started those series because I wanted to write it and then after a while, notes started to go down and I lost motivation to actually continue to write it.

#request guidelines #alice's guiedlines

[maladaptive---daydreamer]

The Fourth Time

Fandom: DC Universe/ Supergirl

Pairing: Clara Kent x gender neutral!reader

Summary/Request: Can you do a one-shot where the gender neutral human reader is a reporter for The Daily Planet and knows that their girlfriend Clara Kent (the female version of Superman) is Superwoman and they get kidnapped by Lex Luthor and then saved by Clara? Before the reader is saved, they say to Lex "this is the fourth time this week you've kidnapped me. Don't you have anything better to do?" - Anonymous

Word Count:1281

The sound of the shower turning off and the curtain being pulled back woke you. You yawned and stretched before getting out of bed and swapping places in the bathroom with Clara. You quickly showered and brushed your teeth before exiting and eating your breakfast in your robe.

“How’s work looking?” Clara asked from across the breakfast bar.

“I have to finish writing my supergirl article and interview the owner of the USA’s largest tomato” You replied.

“Sounds riveting”

“Oh believe me it is, I could stare at Supergirl in her suit all day”

Clara laughed at your joke and put her coffee mug in the sink.

“You should get dressed, I don’t think anyone would like you showing up to work in just your robe”

“Wow, she saves the city and she’s funny. Clara Kent everybody”

You hopped off the barstool and quickly changed your outfit. thankfully, the Planet was a lot more lenient on dress code ever since an article had been published by one of your colleagues showing the effect of comfy clothes on productivity and comfort.

“Hey, I’ll meet you at the bistro for lunch, yeah?” Clara said as you laced up your shoes.

“12?”

“12.30?”

“Yeah. Okay. I love you”

“I love you too”

With that, you left for the Daily Planet. You hailed a cab and checked for any meetings you had. So far it was only an interview with a shop owner who grew the biggest tomato in the US. It was boring but no one else was doing it so you were lumped with the task. 

You went through security and up to your cubicle. You logged onto your computer and opened up a draft of a different article and continued writing that. It was based on a few heists that were happening in the area by a new villain that Cara had the pleasure of meeting a few nights ago.

“Hey Y/N” A voice called out

“Hey Charlie”

“I bought you coffee and a bagel” your co-worker smiled. You really liked her, she was one of the kindest people on your floor and the two of you soon made close friends

“Thank you! I’m starving”

“You’re welcome. I’ll let you carry on with your article”

You took the lid off the coffee to let it cool down a bit more as you continued to type. A while later you were disturbed again.

“Y/N”

You looked up to see one of the interns.

“Your interview is here.”

“I wasn’t supposed to see him until 2″

“Well he’s here now”

You muttered a ‘thanks’ as you saved what you had written and collected your notebook and phone. You got down to the lobby and saw the farmer sitting nervously on one of the sofas.

“Mr Blake? Hi, I’m Y/N. I’m going to be conducting your interview”

“Ah yes”

“If you’ll follow me to one of our interview rooms”

“No wait, I forgot my tomato in the car.”

“I’m sure you don’t need-”

“Yes I do”

“Right well I’ll wait here and you-”

“No, you need to come with me.”

“I’m sorry-”

“To take pictures, the ones they already have a bad you see”

“I don’t have a camera”

“I do, it’s in my car.”

“Right”

You cautiously followed the old man out of the building and into the side alleyway he parked in. His old beat up truck was in front of three pristine SUVs. He reached his car and the doors of the SUVs opened. Tall burly men in suits surrounded you and the old man kept mumbling about how sorry he was. Lex came through a small gap and flung a bag of money at the farmer.

“Hello Y/N” The familiar annoying voice of Lex Luthor called out

“What do you want, Lex?”

“Your girlfriend”

“You’re not getting her”

“I thought you’d say that”

“Chloroform them”

A man came from behind and put a handkerchief to your mouth. The smell invaded your nose and you could slowly feel yourself getting tired. 

You woke up god knows how many hours later tried to a chair. It was one of those comfortable spinning chairs but it was the useless kind, the one that had no wheels.

“You’re up”

“Ugh Lex, you’re boring me”

“It’s simple, you lead me to her and I leave you alone.”

“Yeah and you also experiment on her because you’re a freak.”

“No- I need her abilities”

“Well, you’re not going to get them. Lex, this is the fourth time this week you’ve kidnapped me, don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Yes I do, but I need Clara’s powers for everything”

“Maybe you should change your plans around then”

“I can’t change my plans willy-nilly, Y/N. Everything is planned in advance”

“You’re a psycho and you need help”

“We’ve established that I’m fine”

“I just need you to be here long enough for Clara to come and you will be free to go”

“Well I’m here, so let them go, Lex”

“Lovely. I’ll admit, I think I may be a pathological liar. Y/N, you’re deffooo not leaving. I can’t have any witnesses now can I?”

“Lex” Clara warned.

“Oh, I’m so scared, you’re using your adult voice on me.”

Clara surged forward and pushed Lex to the ground. She began punching him, Jon Snow and Ramsay style only he grabbed a hold of her arms and pushed her off. He jumped up and picked up a weapon that you assumed probably had kryptonite in it and began to advance towards her. Clara saw a chair on the side and picked it up, she used its legs to push Lex to the wall. With a flick of her wrist, she brought the chair upwards and slammed it into his face. He fell to the floor with a thud.

“Bravo, now untie me so we can leave” You called out wriggling your tied fingers.

Clara ran towards you and used her laser vision to burn through the ropes. You rubbed your wrists where the harsh fibres had irritated your skin for the millionth time this week.

“I’m sorry” She muttered

“It’s not your fault that Lex is crazy and is obsessed with you”

“But it puts you in harm’s way”

“But you always save me, that’s more than I could ask for.”

“Promise?”

“Promise”

Clara smiled at you and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Now, let’s go grab lunch like we planned. I am starving”

“When are you not?”

“When you feed me”

The two of you walked out of Lex’s building and into a cab. The cab dropped you off outside the bistro and the two of you took your seats outside since it was such a nice day. You nipped into the inside and gave your order and table number and returned to Clara.

“So what are you going to do about your article?”

“Continue writing it.”

“No about the tomato interview”

“I’ll just say I got kidnapped for information on Supergirl since I was writing the article. I told them what I knew, which is what the rest of the city knew and they let me go. Hopefully, then someone else will be stuck with the article instead of me”

“That sounds too good to be true”

“I’m dating someone who can fly, too good to be true doesn't exist in our vocabularies anymore”

#clara kent #clara kent x reader #clara kent imagine #clara kent oneshot #clara kent one shot #supergirl #supergirl x reader #supergirl imagine #supergirl one shot #supergirl oneshot #dc #dc imagine #dc oneshot #dc one shot #dc fanfiction #dc fan ficition #dceu #dcu

[unmotivatedwrit3r]

One in Eleven Million - masterlist

a damian wayne x reader x jon kent series in which everything that can go wrong on a trip home does go wrong

warnings: airports, airplanes, anxiety, mention of minor injury, sensory overload, consumption of food, mild cursing, emergency landing

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6

chapter 7

chapter 8

chapter 9

chapter 10

complete!

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader x jonathan kent #damian wayne x gender neutral reader #damian wayne x reader x jon kent #jonathan kent #jon kent x reader #jon kent x gender neutral reader #jon kent imagine

[unmotivatedwrit3r]

One in Eleven Million (ch. 5)

damian wayne x reader x jon kent

(A/N): A few more chapters to go. I'll try to post more regularly but honestly dates get away from me so fast. I hope you all enjoy!

Series masterlist linked here.

warnings: sensory overload, planes

wc: ~1100

~~

Jon swore that boarding time had only gotten longer the second time around. You attempted to shove him towards the already packed boarding lines. 

“You guys have carry-ons and you need to find a spot for them so go.” You insisted. Over the loudspeaker, airline employees began allowing passengers in group two to board. Damian opened his mouth to argue again. Jon cut him off. 

“You’re right; we should.” 

You turned towards him, surprised, but took the opportunity. 

“Thank you, Jon. I swear I can in fact survive twenty minutes without you guys. I did take a whole other plane here before I met you.”

Jon wrapped his hand around Damian’s elbow and walked him to the gate. Damian’s eyes roamed over Jon’s face, calculating. 

“Are you alright?” There was a slight pause. “Overstimulated?”

Jon nodded. Even with his earbuds in, the people and the noise grated on his senses. Until his powers came back in their entirety or settled out, they’d be in flux, and Jon wanted nothing more than to get out of the simultaneously open and crowded gate. The dim space of the plane sounded like a haven, even enclosed as it was. Any other day, he would have argued more about staying back with you. 

Damian passed Jon his own sunglasses and took the lead, scanning his boarding pass then Jon’s and guiding him into the boarding bridge. The lights, unnatural and piercing as they were, were dulled by the sunglasses. Jon relaxed the tension in his forehead, now looking more so than squinting at Damian. 

“Thanks.” He pulled a deep breath in then let it out through pursed lips. 

“You know you can just tell me things like that right?” Damian nudged. The line moved and they stepped further down the bridge. 

“Yeah I just—everything’s weird and off balance and I’m missing the-“ His voice dropped to a whisper. “-powers that I’ve had since I was a kid so it’s-”

“A lot,” Damian nodded. 

“Yeah.”

Jon dipped his head in response to the flight attendants’ greetings as he passed them by, following the line as it continued on towards the end of the plane. 

“You take the end,” Damian instructed. “You’ll have window control and the corner if you need it.” He reached his hand out to take Jon’s carry-on.

Jon didn’t argue, sliding clumsily to the end of the row. He turned the small TV — built-in to the headrest in front of him — off before sinking into his seat. It let out a puff of air as he sat down. Above his head, the sound of wheels on plastic illustrated Damian lifting both carry-ons into the overhead bins. Jon realized belatedly that he shouldn’t have let Damian do that with his arm injury. Too late now. 

After a moment, Damian maneuvered — much more gracefully — into the chair beside Jon, shoving his backpack under the seat in front. His arm curled around Jon’s shoulders. Jon followed the movement, forehead tipping down to the crook of Damian’s neck and eyes fluttering closed. One of Damian’s hands combed through his hair. The other wrapped around Jon’s wrist. Damian did that sometimes — often. In some ways, Jon appreciated it: Damian’s own way of checking his heartbeat in turn. Sometimes, like today, a move like that made Jon feel small. But Damian was safe. Jon could be small with him. 

There were a few minutes of indeterminate noise before you arrived. Jon felt your appearance more than anything else and even then, mostly in the change in Damian’s posture. 

“Hey.” Your voice was low. “Jon okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m good.” You were addressing Damian but Jon answered anyway. “The airport was just loud.”

Damian’s hand didn’t move from his hair. Jon’s eyes stayed closed as you situated your bag under the seat and sat down. He assumed there’d been some sort of nonverbal communication over his head, but he couldn’t prove it. 

Jon sat up, eyes blinking open underneath the sunglasses. He recognized the worried look on your face — and didn’t that say something about how ridiculous the last twelve plus hours had been if he knew that face well already?

“I’m okay.” 

Your eyes narrowed in disbelief. 

“Or I’m getting there,” Jon amended. You seemed to take that answer better. In the middle seat, Damian huffed a laugh and switched to holding Jon’s wrist with his left hand. Jon didn’t pull away. Having Damian nearby, the warmth of his hand wrapped around Jon’s wrist, made all the difference. 

“Just let me know if there’s anything I can do.” Your eyebrows were still furrowed in concern. “Seriously.” 

Damian seemed to take you at your word so Jon nodded. 

“Thanks.” 

“Yeah, of course,” you reassured him. “We’re in this together now.” 

A flight attendant bustled down the aisle, shutting overhead storage and checking that everyone was wearing seatbelts. You moved your hands away from your waist and both Jon and Damian copied the movement. The flight attendant moved on. 

Jon dropped his head back to Damian's shoulder, eyes following as you reached down into your bag and pulled out the craft project from the day before. 

“What are you making?” Damian asked. You looked up at him, eyes flicking down to your lap then back up. 

“Oh, nothing special honestly. I just found this pattern and liked it. And it’s nice to have something like this to do when watching TV, I think. Or like when you’re on the phone with someone. To have something to do with my hands.”

“It’s beautiful.” Jon readjusted his position against Damian’s shoulder as Damian leaned towards you. “You’re talented.”

“I’m not, honestly. It’s not really art, just string and a pattern I found online.” 

“Tt,” objected Damian. “There are many forms of art.”

“Good morning ladies and gentlemen and welcome once again to flight 1221 nonstop to Gotham International Airport. Thank you all for your patience and adaptability around the delays. We are fourth in line for takeoff and running smoothly so we should be up in the air in no time. Please be aware that there may be some turbulence as we get up in the air so seatbelt signs will remain on until it is safe to remove them. Thank you all again, and have a great flight.” 

The loudspeaker was silent for a moment. Jon opened his eyes from whenever he’d squeezed them shut. The crackling in the pilot’s voice as it filtered through the speaker was more audible than it had been the night before. 

Jon winced as the flight safety video began playing. He was spared the flashes of light from the darkened TV screen but not the sound projected over the entire plane. Pulling his hood over his eyes, Jon curled away from Damian and into the corner of the plane, closing them once again. 

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x reader x jonathan kent #damian wayne x reader x jon kent #damian wayne x gender neutral reader #damian wayne #jonathan kent #jonathan kent x reader #jon kent x reader #jon kent x gender neutral reader #jon kent #emerson writes sometimes

[unmotivatedwrit3r]

One in Eleven Million (ch.7)

damian wayne x reader x jon kent

(A/N): this is where the real-life experience I took to write this story runs out so please take any and all airplane/airline logistics with a grain of salt. And with that said, enjoy! I want to get the rest of this series out by the end of fall to hopefully have room to post the holiday fics I want to write so look forwards to the coming final chapters. And apologies, this is a short one.

edit: forgot to link the masterlist so here it is!

warnings: airplane travel, turbulence, emergency (not crash) landings, panic

wc: ~750

~~

The next forty five minutes passed in some part conversation and some part Jon showing you dozens of pictures on his phone. He had a few really good ones of Superman (the older one) and some stunning ones overlooking Metropolis. 

“My parents are reporters so they–they know people who take photos like this,” Jon explained to you, crunching on the airplane pretzels he’d reclaimed from Damian.  

You pulled out a few photos of the Gotham skyline to show the boys in turn. Your photos didn’t live up to theirs, but with your not-high-tech phone camera, those were about the best you had. 

A stronger bout of turbulence rocked even you, hands instinctively gripping the hard plastic of the armrests. A quick glance at Damian gave away that he didn’t find it regular either. 

Jon’s “This is weird right?” overlapped with the concerned cries of other passengers. You turned to Damian. 

“It feels more like a train right now than a plane.” 

“I agree. This is irregular at best.” 

You nearly missed the crackle of the loudspeaker from underneath the raised voices of those around you. 

“Ladies and gentleman, there has been a slight issue with one of our regulators. As of now, all passengers and attendants are to remain seated for their safety. Our next step is to make an emergency landing at the Philadelphia airport where there will then be connecting flights to Gotham. If you would rather find an alternate method of transport, let the front desk know as soon as we arrive so any luggage is forwarded to baggage claim.” 

You could barely process the new information over the sudden uproar. 

“This has never happened to you, I assume?” Damian spoke loudly. 

“No, nothing like this. I’d never even had a delay this bad before but this? No it-it’s crazy.” The answer to your question was chiseled into the shaken expression on Damian’s face but you asked anyway. “Either of you?”

Twin shakes of the head confirmed your assumption. 

“It’s not an emergency right? Like I know it’s an emergency landing but not a fall out of the sky kind of emergency right?” Jon’s blue eyes were wide. You shrugged helplessly.

“I want to say they’d tell us if it was but-”

“But they’ve been less than forthcoming so far so why begin now?” Damian finished. 

“Yeah,” you agreed. “Exactly.” 

Beside your seat, the emergency exit lights lit up. 

“That doesn’t bode well.” Damian pulled the words out of your brain. “But panicking,” he hissed at the woman lamenting in the row behind you, “will not solve anything.” 

You didn’t think Damian realized Jon was clinging to his hand. You didn’t think he knew he was holding yours.  

“Jon, you’re shaking the floor.” The words came out harsher than you intended. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be-I just-it’s-”

“Sorry I just-” Jon switched from tapping his foot to holding Damian’s left hand in his, focus tuned on his fingers. Damian’s gaze was locked on where his right hand was linked with yours. You pulled away as if his gaze burned you. “I’m never flying commercial again,” Jon finished. 

The laughter that bubbled out of your mouth was more hysterical than you intended. 

Another bout of rough turbulence wracked the plane. You kept your hands to yourself his time, arms crossed against your chest to squeeze at your biceps. 

You barely heard Jon’s whispered cursing underneath the panic rising throughout the rest of the plane.

Damian stayed quiet, but the hand that wasn’t held in Jon’s was tightly clenched. If he wasn’t human, you might have expected there to be holes bored into the head of an older man across the aisle. You wanted to quiet the guy yourself; his catastrophic ranting was only adding into your own anxiety. Instead, you spent a couple minutes making sure all of the stuff in your backpack was tucked away. 

“He does know everyone else can hear him, right?” You asked as you sat up. Both boys chuckled. Jon’s fingers tapped rapidly on his thigh. 

“Alright folks,” the pilot’s voice interrupted the catastrophizing. “We’ve begun the landing process. Please be aware that further turbulence is normal. We should be on the ground soon.”

“How much longer can they call turbulence normal?” Damian ground out. You didn’t have an answer for him. 

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader x jonathan kent #damian wayne x gender neutral reader #damian wayne x reader x jon kent #jon kent imagine #jonathan kent imagine #jonathan kent #jon kent x reader #jon kent x gender neutral reader #one in eleven million #emerson writes sometimes

[unmotivatedwrit3r]

One in Eleven Million (ch. 6)

damian wayne x reader x jon kent

(A/N): So I think this ends up being ten chapters? I'll try to post more frequently; I've tortured you all long enough haha. Though I'm hoping to get a couple different things out in the next couple of weeks, so you'll get more from me, just not always of this.

As always, masterlist linked here.

warnings: air travel, turbulence

wc: ~1300

~~

Damian turned from where he was watching you continue your project to face Jon. He pulled off his zip up sweater, tugging down the sleeve of his long sleeved shirt to hide the bandages Jon did at the hotel earlier in the morning, before passing it over to Jon. 

“Here.” Damian nudged him. “For the sunglasses.” 

Though he could feel your eyes on the back of his neck, Damian ignored you for now, taking his sunglasses back from Jon’s outstretched hand. In the corner, Jon curled into a ball, head tilted against the wall and face buried in Damian’s sweatshirt. Damian watched him for a moment, chest tight. No matter how many times he’d been through this with Jon, it didn’t get easier seeing him in pain. Jon flicked him a thumbs up and Damian relaxed, turning back to you. Overhead, the safety announcement came to a close. 

“He’s okay?” You asked, eyes fixed on Jon. Your arms, already wrapped around yourself, tightened. Damian nodded, eyes straying back to his left for just a moment before returning to you. 

“He will be, once we get up in the air and away from the chaos of the airport.” He tipped his chin at the project left abandoned in your lap. “How long have you been doing that?” 

“Oh a couple of years maybe? I’m not sure exactly. Do you,” you hesitated. “Do you do some kind of art? And you read Arabic, right? I saw the book you were reading last night.” Damian’s eyes scanned your face. You looked nervous, though genuine, and he found himself not minding the questions. It felt more like curiosity than idle small talk. He hated small talk.

“I do. And speak it.” Your eyes lit up. 

“Cool,” you breathed, smiling. “I’m not great at languages but I would like to be fluent in a few one day. And art?” 

“I draw,” Damian revealed. “And paint.” He fought to keep from mirroring your smile.

“That’s awesome. I write a little bit, but only as a hobby.”  

“Really? About what?” He asked genuinely. 

“Whatever I get motivation for I guess? I wish I had a better answer but I just like it.” 

“Doing things for liking them is an answer.” Damian could almost see you mulling the words around in your head. He took the moment to observe your features up close: beautiful eyes and an unexpectedly striking smile. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

“I know.” 

Your startled laugh tore the last of his self restraint down. Damian’s face split into a grin.

The two of you spent the next while talking about everything and anything. You shared your reasons for being on the plane at all, your favorite color, your other hobbies. In turn, he showed you pictures of his art, his cat and dog, and gorgeous shots of Gotham at sunrise. He had a lot of pictures of him and a brown man with shaggy dark hair and bright blue eyes. In the recent pictures, Damian began to overtake him in height. “My oldest brother,” Damian offered when you asked. 

“You’re the youngest?” He nodded. 

“Of several. I am one of the tallest, though.” 

“Oh boy,” you laughed. “I bet your older siblings hate that.” 

“They do.” 

And then there were the pictures of Jon. Jon by himself or with Damian’s pets, Jon captured in Damian’s art, and Damian and Jon together. 

“Where was this?” You asked. In the picture, Damian was standing on a pathway covered in a dusting of snow, bundled up and on crutches. Jon, in a blue zip-up and jeans, was making a snow angel on the ground in much deeper snow beside him. 

“A few winters ago. In Gotham.” 

“I remember that snowfall” You thought back to the remnants of a Mr. Freeze plot. Following Batman’s intervention, all that was left was a snowy cold front. “But mostly I stayed inside and caught up on work during the snow day. And watched too much TV.” Damian huffed a laugh. 

On his other side, small snores emanated from the pile of denim and red fabric. Jon didn’t wake when the flight attendant came around with snacks. Damian accepted Jon’s pretzels for him.

“How long have you two known each other?” You asked, some time in. Damian looked over at Jon. The lights in the cabin were dim, and both boys were bathed in shadow. 

“A decade or so, now,” he said. Then, a little quieter. “He’s my best friend.” 

“You’re a good friend Damian.” Your eyes followed his over to Jon. He looked smaller than you’d ever seen him, all 6ft something curled up in an economy airplane seat. “He’s lucky to have you.“And I know I don’t know you guys that well but I can tell he’s a good person. And that you’re lucky to have him too.” 

Damian didn’t argue. 

“I am.” 

Two hours in, Jon stirred, pushing the hood off his head and blinking slowly. 

“Hey,” he mumbled. Your breath caught unwittingly in your throat. Jon’s voice was rough and his hair was mussed from where it had been smushed underneath his hoodie. You curled your fingers into your palms, resisting the urge to push back a curl that had dropped onto his forehead. Jon rubbed the backs of his hands against his eyes, dislodging his glasses. “Did I fall asleep?” 

“Morning,” you managed. Some part of you was surprised you managed to get out any words at all, much less in a tone that wouldn’t pass for a squeal. 

Damian took his sweatshirt back from Jon’s offering hand. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah,” he said, attempting to stretch while crammed in a seat with no legroom. You just watched, chest squeezing pleasantly. Damian was watching similarly. What am I doing? You wondered to yourself. He’s not yours, neither of them are. 

“You needed the sleep,” Damian said beside you. Jon snorted out a laugh. 

“Thanks Dames,” he said dryly. 

“Always.” 

You wrenched your attention away from the boys, turning your phone over in between your hands. It was too late, you knew. You were already attached. But this was a plane, a vehicle to get you from place to place. There was no reason they would be any different, just a passing point in your life. Selfishly, you hoped they might be more. 

A tap on your shoulder from Damian brought you back into the conversation. 

“Huh?” Two sets of concerned eyes were watching you carefully. Your eyes met green then blue for only a moment. “What’s up? I zoned out for a moment, sorry. Tired.” 

Damian looked like he wanted to argue with you. You hoped he wouldn’t; you might have only met him the day before, but you had a feeling he’d figure it out anyway. 

“Do you know how far we are?” Jon asked instead. 

“Oh sure I can check that one sec.” You opened the airline map on your phone. “About an hour and a half away.” The little airplane icon on your phone screen placed the plane somewhere above the Chicago area. “See?” 

“Oh that’s cool!” Jon said to Damian, taking the device from you. “Kinda looks like the thing your dad has for my dad.” There was context you were missing, you assumed. Damian huffed a laugh. 

“It’s a similar technology.” 

“What do your dads do?” You asked them. 

“He’s a journalist,” Jon offered. 

“Businessman.” Damian’s lips quirked up. “Family business.” 

That did not clear it up for you whatsoever. You snapped your mouth shut on any follow-up questions at the jump of turbulence. Your shoulders stiffened instinctively for a moment before you relaxed back into your seat. This wasn’t your first batch of turbulence and it probably wouldn’t be your last. Damian didn’t seem shaken. Jon, though, looked terrified, one hand gripping Damian’s wrist and the other tapping furiously against his thigh. 

“Is this normal? On commercial planes?” 

“Sometimes,” Damian assured. “The pilot warned of turbulence earlier.” 

“They usually come over the loudspeaker when it happens, just to reassure people.” 

Your prediction came true with a crackle of the intercom. 

“Just an average bit of turbulence folks. All numbers are still in the green, so no need to worry. As a precaution, the seatbelt signs are going back on so please stay seated if possible.” 

The pilot’s voice seemed to reassure Jon. You, for one, were tired of hearing it.

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x reader x jonathan kent #damian wayne x reader x jon kent #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x gender neutral reader #jon kent imagine #jon kent x gender neutral reader #jon kent x reader #OIEM series #emerson writes sometimes

[unmotivatedwrit3r]

One in Eleven Million (ch. 4)

damian wayne x reader x jon kent

(a/n): so...it's been a month. But in my defense, I wrote a play.

Previous chapters linked here, here, and here.

wc: ~1800

warnings: airports, consumption of food, anxiety

~

Your alarm went off at 1am and you reached blindly across the end table to silence it. The dark hotel room came back into focus and you sighed. The sky outside was dark, just like it was when you finally went to sleep two hours ago. 

A large part of you desperately wanted a shower. Between the exhaustion, time constraints, and lack of everything from personal toiletries to clean clothes, though, you resigned yourself to brushing your teeth and an attempt at finger-brushing your hair. You shoved your phone in your pocket and fumbled your way into the bathroom. 

“Already dressed,” you deadpanned in the mirror, still squinting in the bright bathroom lights, “great.” 

There wasn’t much of your usual morning routine that you could scrape together in the twenty minutes you had. You felt a little stale in clothes that had already seen two airports, two airplanes, various vehicles, and your hotel bed, but you were also running on limited sleep and even more limited options so what was there to do?

The wooden toothbrush and tiny tube of toothpaste — and you meant tiny; the thing looked like it would be more at home in an American Girl doll house than your bathroom sink — you had was hotel provided, and you washed your face with hotel face soap. It was a weird texture, but you decided it was better to feel a little bit cleaner and just deal with it for the minute you had to than feel greasy the entire rest of the day.  

By 1:23am, you were walking out of the elevator and into the hotel lobby. You recognized a family already sitting there from the shuttle last night. Did it count as last night if you’d only gotten to the hotel for two hours of sleep? 

Closer to the door, though, were the people you were looking for. A part of you wondered if the friendship — you hesitated to call it friendship but what else could it be really? — you’d built yesterday was just a fluke. There was a chance the boys didn’t show up for the shuttle you’d all planned to take. Even worse, you worried that they would be there and just ignore you. It had already been a long trip, and a larger part of you than you wanted to acknowledge was craving the security of not being on your own. 

Damian’s eyes were fixed on his phone, eyebrows furrowed. Jon looked half-asleep, leaning into Damian. You lingered awkwardly in the doorway to the lobby until Damian looked up and waved before quickly returning to his phone. Something in your chest settled. You took the seat across from them, failing to hold back a smile. 

“You awake there, Jon?” 

One of Jon’s eyelids cracked open at you before sliding shut once again. 

“No.” 

Damian’s huff of amusement took you a second to register under your own. He tucked his phone into his jeans pocket. 

“Jon’s not awake until the sun is.” An elbow tried to nudge Damian. Jon’s aim was suffering from not having his eyes open though, and he succeeded more in almost falling off of his chair than anything. 

You and Damian exchanged an amused glance. For the first time, you noticed his eyes—long eyelashes and dark brows accentuating green-blue orbs. Your breath caught. Nope, you’re not allowed to like both of them, your brain argued. You ignored it. 

The shuttle ride was as uneventful as it had been the night before. 

“Which line do we go in?” Jon asked, squinting at his boarding pass as the three of you crossed the threshold into the airport. You spared a mournful glance at the bag check counters before following the boys to escalators. It was weird to not have a suitcase with you. 

“TSA-pre.” Damian pointed at a sign denoting the airline’s quicker security status. “Father doesn’t often fly commercial but we have it on his account.” 

You double checked your boarding pass. You hadn’t anticipated the same symbol would be there, but it made your heart sink nonetheless.

“I’ll meet you at the end of security,” You stopped by the entrance to the general line. “Or at the gate?” 

“You don’t have it? The faster one?” Jon wondered.

“No,” you shrugged. “It’s an extra charge. I don't travel enough to make the price worth it.” 

“There’s no crowd in either line.” Damian nodded his head at the vacant security checkpoint. “It is before three in the morning.” 

“Yeah, we’ll go with you.” 

“You sure?” Your hands tightened around your backpack straps.

“It’ll be easier to find you if we all just go together, right?” Jon walked through first, clumsily pulling an ID from his pocket before presenting it to the airline employee. You did the same. Damian followed, and you shoved your ID back where it belonged as he passed through. 

“We have to take our shoes off in this line,” you reminded Damian. Jon had immediately followed your lead, but Damian had yet to take anything out of his bag. “And large things like laptops.” 

Jon’s sneakers joined your shoes on the belt. 

“Nice socks.” 

He looked down, confused, then back up at you. You could see a blush rising on his cheeks. One of his socks had superman logos, the other flash ones. 

“Mine don’t match either,” you offered, lifting your feet one at a time to showcase your own socks. 

“Oh hey, that’s cool,” Jon’s bright smile made the discomfort of socked feet on airport floors worth it. The tile was cold through the thin fabric. 

“Share a bin?” You asked Damian, pulling your laptop out of your bag. You tucked it inside, phone already tucked away with Jon’s in a smaller container. 

“Sure.” Damian’s computer was slick, a dark gray Wayne Tech and wrapped in a black case. Yours looked a little clunkier next to his, but it fit him, or what you knew of him. 

Damian’s socks did match, you realized as he passed through the metal detector after you.  

“Here Dami,” Jon passed over a pair of boots. Damian murmured a thank you, pulling them on untied before grabbing the rest of his belongings.  

“Those are nice,” You said, shoving your laptop back into your bag. Damian finished tying his shoes. 

“It’s a good brand.” 

“Yeah,” you swung your backpack over your shoulder. The weight was comforting where it rested against your back. “They're expensive but worth it.” 

“I’m kind of a sneakers guy.” Jon raised one hand, swinging his backpack on with the other. 

You chuckled, following as Damian started heading towards your terminal. It was still pitch black outside and the airport was almost eerie for its emptiness. The clacking of the wheels on Damian and Jon’s bags echoed in the open space. A go-cart shot by, sirens blaring. You sighed out a breath, heart racing. Right, airports are never quiet. 

When the three of you reached the gate, there was half an hour left to kill. You took a moment to curse the fluctuations in airport security wait times before moving on. Damian headed straight for a set of seats right against the wall. You and Jon followed, dropping your bag on the floor in front of you and draping your jacket over the chair. 

“I think there was a pretzel place open at the beginning of the terminal. Pretzels for breakfast anyone?” 

“Soft pretzels?” inquired Jon, all of the sudden much more awake than he was at the hotel. You figured it was at the prospect of food more than anything else. 

“Yeah those ones. I’m going. Anyone else?” 

Damian shrugged then stood, pulling up the handle of his carry-on to roll it, his jacket, and his bag as one. Jon followed Damian’s lead. His jacket stayed on. 

You picked your stuff up from where you’d just laid it out, jacket zipper dragging against the chair. 

“A group errand then,” you declared. Beside you, Jon snorted out a laugh. 

Between the early hour, you and Jon arguing over which pretzels were better, and Damain’s skepticism at their deliciousness overall, you were pretty sure that the pretzel stand employee was tired of the three of you already. Damian insisted on paying despite not wanting anything (“it’s like six dollars, I’ve got it,” you protested. “If you don’t let him, he’s just going to do it anyway,” Jon explained, “and you did save us from a 600 dollar hotel reservation last night.”), but he didn’t protest when Jon ordered an extra cup of the cinnamon nuggets in addition to the one for you. Jon’s own choice, regular nuggets with a very yellow cheese dip, was left all on its lonesome.

“There’s no way that’s real cheese,” you argued as he opened the dipping container. “You’re basically just eating chemicals.” 

Another pretzel covered nearly entirely in cheese disappeared into Jon’s mouth. He shrugged. You watched him for a moment before locking eyes with Damian. Matching grins spanned your faces.  

“With his taste in foods, he’s lucky he has such a strong digestive system,” Damian volunteered. 

You snorted, sinking down on top of the jacket you’d once again splayed across the chair as you shoved another pretzel nugget in your mouth. When you turned, the cold metal of the armrests bit into your side even through your shirt. 

Jon’s cheese dip lasted about halfway through the cup of pretzels. He looked mournfully into the container. 

“Aww man.” 

You tilted your bag towards him, rattling the nuggets inside. 

“Do you want one?” Jon stood up, shaking his head.

“I might actually just go get another-” Damian grabbed his arm and pulled him down. The seat let out a puff of air. You had to hold back a laugh at the startled expression painting Jon’s face, popping another nugget into your mouth. The cinnamon sugar was rough between your lips.

“You,” Damian said, “are not eating anything else horrible for humans.” 

His phrasing was a little weird, but you understood the sentiment. One container of processed cheese was more than enough for most people on a good day, and it was barely 3am.

“Oh, right.” Jon frowned. 

“They’re good with just salt,” you offered. “If they didn’t have the cinnamon ones, I would have gotten those. But I think there is such a thing as too much processed cheese for breakfast.”

Damian bit into another pretzel nugget. 

“The cinnamon ones are by far superior to the plain ones.” 

“Oh I agree one hundred percent, but if you don’t like them,” you nudged Jon, “the plain ones are okay too.”

Jon shrugged and popped a plain nugget in his mouth, swallowing morosely. 

“They’re dry.” 

You and Damian exchanged a look. 

“What?” Jon justified through your laughter. “They are!”

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x reader x jonathan kent #damian wayne x reader x jon kent #damian wayne x gender neutral reader #jon kent x gender neutral reader #jon kent x reader #emerson writes sometimes #one in eleven million

[unmotivatedwrit3r]

One in Eleven Million

damian wayne x reader x jon kent  - ch.1

(A/N): The plot of this is mostly based off of a trip I took a little over a year ago, though there are liberties taken further on. And my memory is kinda sucky so take any airport lingo with a grain of salt. Also, thanks to @glorified-red for helping me outline this while I was heading to the same place this year and also for being my beta reader. 

This is fully written and has been for two months so hopefully I'll post a chapter a week or so? I am also posting this from hawaii so here's hoping a) I get new fic material and b) i've converted the time zone correctly and this posts late EST. 

If you saw this posted yesterday, no you didn’t. Posting across time zones is hard

wc: ~2300

warnings: plane travel; anxiety

~

Your phone buzzed in your pocket as you stepped off the tram. Above your head, the sign read Terminal B in large letters. The people ahead as you stepped onto the escalator were a couple with matching, brightly colored, floral-patterned carry-ons. 

The notification was a text from the airline. You skimmed it as you walked towards your gate, weaving in and out of internal airport traffic. We're ready to board your flight to Gotham (GHM) at Gate B6 and look forward to seeing you soon! The text was right below the one telling you about yet another delay. A quick check of the time declared that making any detours would cut your arrival at the gate a little close. 

“Worth the risk,” you decided for yourself. “Let's go.” 

The escalator opened into the middle of your terminal, a dozen gates from your destination. Even though the airport you were in was spread out massively, you weren’t too worried. Your boarding group wouldn’t even get on the plane for probably another ten minutes, so you ducked into the nearest restroom before crossing to your gate. 

The time in red on your boarding pass caught your eye. 70 minutes late, it read. Any other day, a delay would have been an inconvenience. This time, the buffer actually ended up being beneficial. You needed it when trying to catch a connecting flight—the second of two on your way home—after one already delayed. Your eye caught on a pretzel stand further down the terminal. You could almost taste the pretzels; it had been a while since breakfast. The usual delicious smells were covered by the perpetual airport scent of stale air and commercial cleaner. If you wanted to get close, you’d have to cross the foot traffic. The voice over the loudspeaker curtailed that hope quickly by announcing your boarding group. You sighed. Next time. 

The boarding line was long and you silently thanked yourself for checking a larger suitcase as your primary luggage. Your only current accompaniment was your airline declared “personal item.” There was no way there would be spots for any hypothetical carry-on by the time you got on board. As if to agree with you, the airline employees over the speakers nudged passengers once again to check their carry-ons. 

Like always, it took longer than it rationally should have for people to display their boarding passes and continue into the enclosed boarding bridge. Your chest squeezed as your seat flashed on the screen. The only seat available and in your budget had been a “B”: a middle seat in the back of the plane. Middle seats were the worst, especially when traveling alone. Too often you’d found yourself next to men (and even women, sometimes) that made you extremely uncomfortable.

You scanned the numbers above the seats as the line in front of you blundered along. Someone’s carry-on bag almost smacked you in the face before the line cleared enough for you to be able to see your row. Your heart sank just a little bit when you spotted the two heads in the A and C seats. No hope for an empty seat on this flight, then. 

When you stepped closer, you could see two men—young adults and not older men, you realized, thank goodness—conversing with each other, both tilted into the middle seat. You hoped, privately, that they didn’t know each other well, if only so they wouldn’t be talking right through you the entire flight. 

“Excuse me,” you said, stopping in front of the row, “I have the middle seat.” 

The boys sat back. The one in the window seat had olive skin and dark wavy hair cropped close on the side, dripping down across his forehead and over his eyes. The other, with lighter skin and fluffy dark hair, stood to let you in. You had to take half a step back to let him out. He was tall. And pretty. Nope, Shut Up, brain. You pushed the thought into the back of your mind; he could be the most homophobic person you’ve ever met, how would you know? 

“Sorry about that, go ahead.” 

“Thanks.” You smiled at the boy before sliding clumsily into the row and landing heavily in the middle seat. You shoved your bag under the seat in front of you and sat up stiffly, shoulders pulled into yourself. The seatbelt dug uncomfortably into your thigh. Silently , you shifted, sliding on the smooth airplane seat, to free it. A few minutes passed in awkward silence as the rest of the passengers boarded. Your headphones were down in the bag you’d just squished under the seat. Was it really worth it to grab them now? Yes, you decided, leaning down to maneuver them out of your bag. The fluffy haired boy spoke across the seats. 

“Damian, I can’t get the app downloaded.” 

You sat back up slowly, chest constricting again. They did know each other. 

The boy in the window seat—Damian apparently—looked up from where his head had been bowed over a book. You couldn’t really make out the words scribbled in the margins, but both the text and the handwritten notes looked like something in the Arabic language family. He put his arm out and the other boy reached across you to place his phone into the outstretched hand. 

“You need to turn on your cellular data for the app store. There’s no internet here.” His voice was low in pitch and quiet. The kind people listened to. Window Seat Boy (it felt weird calling him Damian even if you knew his name) easily unlocked the phone—a red-cased, beat up iPhone—and started rifling through settings. 

The other boy turned his attention to you and you gave an awkward smile. 

“I kinda just realized that it’s probably really annoying to be in the middle of us so did you want to switch with me? Like so every time we talk to each other you’re not in the middle?” 

Your eyebrows raised in surprise. The offer was unexpected, but he looked genuine. You didn’t want to wait for him to potentially change his mind. 

“Yeah, um, that would be good—if you’re okay with that?” 

“Oh yeah I don’t care. I don’t fly like this often enough to have a seat preference. But sitting in the middle of two strangers would probably not be it.” 

Your response huff of involuntary laughter surprised you. He seemed sweet. Your guard dropped a little bit as he stood up in the now empty aisle to let you out. You pulled your bag out from under the seat in front of you and dropped both it and your jacket on the now vacated seat before sliding out and standing up yourself. 

“After you.” You gestured to the empty seat. He shot you a grin before maneuvering more awkwardly than you thought possible into the middle seat. 

“These are so cramped. How do people fly like this?” he muttered, then accepted his phone back from Window Seat Boy. You felt a smile tug at your lips, shoving your backpack under the seat as you sat back down.

“It’s the lack of legroom that gets me. There’s barely enough space for my bag, much less my feet.” 

Now, Middle Seat Boy turned to look at you. His eyes—shining from behind black rectangular frames—were a startling crystal blue. A smile spread across his face and you felt your chest squeeze for a different reason this time. You didn’t even have it in you to reprimand your brain; it really was a pretty smile. 

“Yeah I don’t get it. How is this supposed to be comfortable?” 

“It’s not supposed to be comfortable,” you said, “it’s supposed to make the airlines money.” 

There was a soft huff from Window Seat Boy and Middle Seat Boy’s grin widened. He extended his hand, elbow pressed awkwardly against his torso, before seemingly deciding against it and putting it back down. 

“I’m Jon. And this is Damian.” He gestured to the boy next to him, whose face was once again buried in his book. Damian—now using his name felt less like an intrusion and more like decent politeness—gave a brief nod as he was introduced. 

You stuck your hand out and Jon let out a small laugh as he took it. 

You appreciated that he repeated your name back to you when you gave it to him. Most people just barreled on with their misunderstood pronunciations. 

“Are you heading home?” Jon looked actually interested in your answer. 

You debated for a moment before deciding to be honest. There were over a million people living in Gotham.  

“Yeah, heading back. This is my connecting flight to get home. How about you guys?” 

Jon glanced back at Damian before answering. Damian stayed invested in his book. “He’s from Gotham and I’m going back with him so technically, yeah.” 

“Work trip? Or a personal one?” 

Jon opened his mouth then closed it without saying anything. “Kinda work yeah. We missed our,” he paused as if searching for a word, “original flight so now we’re here.” 

You nodded your head understandingly. 

“Oh that sucks. Hope you weren’t delayed too long.” 

Jon hesitated, wincing as he stretched out his left arm. 

“We weren’t, technically. Was hoping not to have to fly like this, though.” 

You shrugged. 

“This is my usual airline so I don’t have much to say about that.” 

Jon found that funnier than you expected, but you felt a smile crawl across your face as he laughed. The crackle of the intercom interrupted whatever he was about to say. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking. Thank you all for your patience this afternoon. As you know, weather delays kept the plane from arriving here on time and we are happy to finally have you on board. My apologies for the delay in takeoff. There’s been a slight mechanical issue, but we should get it all straightened out in the next twenty minutes so just sit tight. Thank you for your cooperation” 

You sighed heavily, eyes rolling.

“Of course there is.” 

Jon’s worried expression snapped to you. 

“What?” 

Your eyebrows scrunched down in confusion. 

“'What' what?” 

“You said 'of course there is'. Of course there’s what?”

You felt your shoulders relax. 

“Oh, another delay. Almost every plane I take on my own has some sort of delay. Like my last flight was an hour and fifteen minutes behind. And now this one. I just want to go home, you know? I’m exhausted.” 

Jon slumped in his chair. 

“Yeah, me too.” 

He looked exhausted, you realized, eyes decorated with underbags and body slouched into his seat. He was also wearing two sweaters, even though the plane was more warm than chilly. 

“Are you okay?” 

Jon shrugged, smiling. 

“I haven’t uh—I haven’t gotten enough sun recently but yeah.” 

You let out a small huh of understanding and looked out the window open across the aisle from you. It was dark out despite the fact that the sun hadn’t quite set. He wasn’t native to Gotham, you remembered. Cloudy days are the default there, but you knew a couple people who could never make it in Gotham just for that reason. 

It felt weird to put in your headphones and tune out the boy next to you now. Usually, you wouldn’t have thought twice, but you liked him and didn’t want to block him out. Instead, you tucked the headphones back in and pulled a craft project out of your bag, continuing the row of stitches you were on when you put it down at your first gate early in the morning. 

After a moment, you looked up to see Jon watching you. 

“Whatcha making?” He asked, eyes tracing the pattern of your project. You paused, hands stilling mid-stitch.

“Nothing specific really. Just something to pass the time. It’s a pattern I found online a little while back. I kinda enjoy the time on planes and the like that force me to not watch something. Even though technically there’s in-flight entertainment, there’s not too much I enjoy so I’d rather read or something, you know?” You completed the stitch, eyes flicking back to Jon as you tugged it tight. Jon’s head tilted to the side. You had to stop yourself from smiling at the movement. It was cute, a little bit like a puppy. 

“In-flight entertainment?” 

“Like movies and TV shows, whatever the airline puts on it. You didn’t know that?” Jon shook his head. “How often do you fly?” Jon’s eyes widened. For a moment you thought you’d offended him. “I’m not judging you or anything I just—”

“No! No, you didn’t. I don’t…take airplanes much.” 

“Ok well there’s a whole selection of movies on the app, if you have that. This plane has some TV channels,” you said, gesturing to his TV. It was streaming a basketball game, same as most of the others around you. You’d turned yours off before continuing on your project. A quick glance at Damian’s revealed that his was also turned off. “But there’s a better selection of stuff on the app and then you can connect your bluetooth or whatever headphones to your phone and watch with those.” You pulled your phone from your pocket, opening the app and navigating to the entertainment section. 

“See?” You hit the button for the ‘view all’ list and turned the phone to Jon. “You can’t do anything with it unless you’re on the plane but since we are, here it is.” 

Jon pulled out his phone and navigated to the same page you were on, then started scrolling down. 

“This one’s okay but I feel like I’ve seen it a thousand times.” He tilted the phone towards you, display open to a movie from a few months ago. 

“Oh, I meant to see that movie but never got to. Do you recommend it?” 

Jon returned to the main page and shrugged. 

“I think you can do better.” 

You smiled, stuffing your project back into your bag in favor of scrolling through the movie list yourself. 

“Let’s see what they’ve got.”

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #damian wayne x reader x jonathan kent #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x gender neutral reader #jonathan kent x reader #jonathan kent #jonathan kent imagine #damian wayne x reader x jon kent #jon kent x gender neutral reader #emerson writes sometimes

[unmotivatedwrit3r]

Red Sparks

damian wayne x reader x jon kent

(A/N): my apologies for being pretty MIA the last few months. My brain has been bouncing around hyperfixations, which is not helpful for when I want to write something to post. This is primarily a gift for @glorified-red, who will not know this fic exists until whenever they see this post, and who has been an amazing human overall and also helped me do a lot of brainstorming for fics yet to see completion. Since it’s a gift for the person who sometimes reads my stuff before I post, I’m the only one to have edited this. So apologies in advance for awful grammar and/or sentence structure. But I’m actually pretty happy with this one so I hope you all enjoy. 

warnings: depiction of a sensory overload 

wc: ~1500

~~

Problems originating from sensory issues were not uncommon in your household, not when all three people living in it had different sensory needs. When you moved in together, there had been a very large amount of time spent cultivating the space that is your apartment. It was a safe haven. And soundproof. And safe even to a vigilante standard.

So, while problems originating from sensory issues weren’t uncommon, they tended to be less home-focused. Instead, the apartment was where the decompression from said sensory issues came in. And you knew that voice, even when it was pushed to the brink of overload. 

“Jon?” You kept your voice quiet and shut the front door with as much delicacy as you could. It didn’t matter too much—he’d hear it as if you slammed it even so—but you did it anyway. 

You typed out a message to Damian before sliding your phone back into your pocket. It was a heads up message rather than an SOS. You knew what to do. Damian was in the middle of a WE meeting about the animal shelter system he’d been trying to set up for years. If you needed him, you’d call. 

Your shoes and bag hit the ground beside you quietly and you ventured further into the apartment. As you’d anticipated, Jon was in the bedroom. Even through closed eyes, red sparked through his eyelashes and pulsed at his temples. You stopped to grab a set of headphones before kneeling down in front of him. They didn’t cancel out everything—that was nearly impossible for someone with Jon’s hearing capacity—but they did take out a lot of higher and lower frequencies that neither you nor Damian could hear. Those frequencies were often a majority of Jon’s problem. 

You lightly nudged Jon’s hands away from his ears with the headphones and he reacted quickly enough to startle you, yanking the headphones over his head and squishing his hands back to where they were, over the headphones this time. For the first time since you’d seen him, Jon took in a deep breath. You let yourself relax, lowering as quietly as you could to the floor beside him. Slowly, the red veins around Jon’s eyes receded. 

You didn’t say anything even as you watched him, tracing the rise and fall of his chest and the ebb and flow of the tension in his jaw and shoulders. There were systems you all had now, practiced responses to handle the fallout of one of you pushed to overload. Depending on the reason for it, touch was either welcomed or the worst thing imaginable. Jon tended to want someone close by, but the choice of physical touch was always his. 

Jon’s eyebrows scrunched together, head tilted to the side. You smiled. He’d figured out that it was you. Sure, he’d recognized a place of safety before, but the joy on Jon’s face when he spotted you or Damian was something that made your chest squeeze (pleasantly) every time.  

“Hey,” he murmured, tensing as he spoke. There was a slight pause before he relaxed. “How long have you been here?” 

“Not long,” you reassured. “Ten/fifteen minutes maybe? I wasn’t counting.” 

Crystal-blue eyes opened under long, dark eyelashes. Between Jon’s Kryptonian genes and Damian’s Arab ones, your boys had some of the prettiest genuine eyelashes you’d ever seen. 

“Hi,” you whispered, face cracking into a grin. Jon was squinting in the light.

“Hi,” he whispered back. 

You opened your arms, asking a silent question. Jon shuffled over the few feet between you to instead sit in between your legs, winding his arms around you. Leaning back, you took his weight. Your back protested as it was pressed against the bed frame, but you ignored it. If it had gotten to the point of pain instead of discomfort, you’d move. Until then, you wanted to be the steadfast pillar of support Jon had always been for both you and Damian. 

Jon’s head came to rest against your shoulder and you spent a few minutes just breathing with him as you ran your fingers through his hair, avoiding the bulky headphones still fixed firmly over his ears. 

Your ribs protested as Jon tightened his grip and you tensed instinctively. He immediately let go, eyes flying open. 

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to-I-” 

You grabbed his hands from where they were hovering awkwardly in the air between the two of you and pulled them close. 

“It’s okay. I’m not hurt.” 

“But you could-”

“But I’m not.” 

Jon’s reluctance to look higher than your shoulders belied his unwillingness to believe you. You could almost feel the self-flagellation running through his head. It needed to be stopped before it could take root. 

“Okay, I have an idea. You trust me?” Jon’s head snapped up at that. 

“Always.” 

You ignored the urge to pull him into a hug at that and tell him how much you love him. That wasn't what he needed. Instead, you stood up, tugging at your still connected hands. Your joints protested as you got up—too much time on the floor would do that to you—and you took a moment to stretch them out, Jon’s concerned gaze fixed on you the entire time. 

“I’m alright, sweetheart, okay? You said you trust me.” 

“I do,” Jon insisted. 

“Okay then, trust that I’m telling you the truth. I just get stiff sometimes. Part of being human.” 

You let go of one of his hands to instead cup his chin, pressing a kiss right underneath each of his eyes. They still shined a concerned clear blue. You loved his eyes—loved the eyes of both your boys.

Once you’d directed Jon to the living room couch, you grabbed a blue weighted blanket from the chair close by. “Grabbed” was generous; it was more like lugged. The blanket was 50lbs, the heaviest weight mass-produced. Most people bought it for a large bed, for couples. You and Damian had bought it for Jon. 

It wasn’t until you’d gone for the blanket that Jon realized what you were doing. He reached for the blanket and wrapped it over his shoulders with ease. 

“Be right back,” you murmured, and he nodded. In just a few moments, you returned in clothes more suited to couch lounging than the outside clothes you’d been wearing before. The weight difference as you sunk into the couch nearly tipped you into Jon. Kryptonians were heavy. They could also float. 

Science was weird. 

Jon righted the balance as he leaned into you, his head nudging into your stomach and pillowing on your thigh. You resumed stroking his hair with one hand and pulled out your phone with the other. Damian was on his way home. You were almost certain that Jon would be asleep by the time he arrived. 

Twenty minutes later, the front door opened and shut quietly. Jon’s soft snores filled the living room as your eyes met Damian’s green-blues. 

“My laptop?” You requested quietly, pointing to the bag you’d left by the door when you walked in. Damian retrieved it and walked over to hand it to you, then pulled his own out of his messenger bag and placed it on the coffee table. He bent down to press a kiss to the corner of your lips and to Jon’s forehead. The little bit of stubble across his jaw was rough under your palms as you stopped him before he pulled away, tipping his forehead to rest against yours. 

“How’d the meeting go?” You asked, voice pitched low. You didn’t expect Jon to wake up for a few hours—sensory overloads always took a lot out of him—but you still didn’t want to be loud.

“Good. I’ll tell you both about it later.” 

“Alright.” You ran your hand over his hair before going back to cup his jaw. Damian’s lips quirked up in a smile before he dipped down to press a kiss to your temple.

“Be right back,” he whispered. You nodded and Damian headed into the bedroom, returning quickly in black sweatpants—there was a Nightwing logo high up on one of the pant legs. They were Dami’s favorite sweatpants, a gift from Dick years ago—and with his laptop for casework. It was a somewhat bulky machine, though much improved from the first one years ago. You had one too, technically, but it was easier to get most of the detective-style work done on just one device most of the time. 

“The docks case?” You wondered as Damian sat down on the couch next to you. His hand brushed over Jon’s cheek. A smile crossed his sleeping face and you melted. Damian’s eyes were bright with adoration. 

“Timothy mentioned a new warehouse earlier today,” Dami said as he settled next to you. He propped the laptop open on his knee, thigh pressed fully against yours. “I think it might be the building we’ve been tracking for the last week.” 

You hummed pensively, eyes searching the screen. On your other side, Jon slept on. 

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[unmotivatedwrit3r]

One in Eleven Million (final chapter)

damian wayne x reader x jon kent

(A/N): And we have reached the end! Thank you to everyone who has been following this story and I hope the ending was worth the wait. I also wrote at least some of this and the last chapter while delayed at a train station/on the train so any offhand references I make to either of those things are because of the haha.

And happy new year!

Series masterlist can be found here.

warnings: anxiety, train stations, small amount of cursing

wc: ~1400

~~

Jon blinked awake to Damian tapping him on the shoulder. 

“Huh?” 

“We’re almost there,” he said, nodding out the window. Outside, the scenery had changed from the green of Pennsylvania to the cloudy skyscraper city of Gotham. “Alfred’s meeting us at the station. I’ve already asked and he’ll drive them home if they’re comfortable.” 

Jon looked over at you. He couldn’t remember if you or he had fallen asleep first, but he felt privileged that you did at all. Sure, some of it might have been the exhaustion of the last day, but he had a feeling you wouldn’t have fallen asleep if you didn’t trust them to be there and wake you up. Based on your complaints about the station there, there was no way you wanted to end up in Newark. Or New York. 

Jon shook you gently. You opened your eyes, confused, then sat quickly upright. 

“Shit, I fell asleep? I didn’t mean to.”

“If it’s any consolation, so did I,” Jon shrugged. 

“I didn’t mean to miss the last hour,” you argued. 

“Last hour of what?” Damian stood up in the aisle, pulling Jon’s carry-on out from where he’d tucked it in. Jon grabbed his backpack then helped you pull your suitcase upright. 

“Of—thanks Jon—of time left with you guys.” You winced. Maybe that was too honest. Tugging your backpack over your shoulders, you followed Jon towards the exit at the end of the car. Damian stopped at the car door. You braced yourself with your suitcase to avoid toppling over as the train shuddered on the tracks. It really did feel like the plane turbulence from earlier. 

“This stop, Gotham Station,” the loudspeaker declared. One thing airplanes have going for them, you thought, better sound systems. The train’s announcements were barely audible. “Doors will open on the right side of the train. Please watch your step.” Anything further was indecipherable under the burbling of the speaker. 

“Wait, why did you say the last hour?” Jon asked as the three of you took the escalator up to the station's main area. 

“I have no idea how to contact you after this.” You pulled your suitcase over the lip of the escalator with a tug and continued on. Despite the amount of public transportation you’ve taken, Damian seemed to know the station better than you. You followed him as he weaved through the groups of people sprinkled around the area, Jon right behind. 

Damian stopped just outside a side entrance, and you moved around to his other side to avoid blocking the door. Jon followed. 

“We do all have phone numbers,” Damian suggested pulling out his phone. You assumed he was texting whoever was picking up him and Jon. 

“Oh, duh!” 

Jon’s excitement made you smile. The thought had crossed your mind earlier, but you’d dismissed it as a non-starter. You felt a little silly for that now. 

Jon’s phone was already open to a new contact sheet when he handed it to you. You weren’t sure if you’d ever actually given them your last name or if they remembered ever seeing it on your train ticket or boarding pass, but there was bound to be someone between Gotham and Metropolis that shared your first name, so you added it in anyway. Jon took it back from you and started typing. 

Your phone buzzed straightaway. You pulled it out of your pocket, smiling. 

“hi :)” the first message read. It was sent to you and a third number. Then “it’s jon”

“Huh,” you mused, reading it. “I’ve never seen anyone spell it like that before. That’s cool.”

You unlocked your phone, opened it to the group chat, and held it out to Damian. 

“Would you mind? So I don’t misspell your name?”

Damian muttered an assent and took it from you. He returned it with both contacts filled out. 

“Oh, great, thanks.” You chuckled at Jon’s contact. The name, instead of the Jon offered by the initial text, had been filled out as “Jonathan Kent.” Damian’s name, you were proud to say, was spelled the way you imagined it was. The last name was a funny coincidence, you thought, considering he lived in Gotham. 

“Wayne?” You asked, about to make a teasing joke. 

“Like Bruce Wayne, yes.” Damian said, carefully watching your reaction. 

“Like ‘Wayne Enterprises’ Wayne?” He nodded. “Holy shit. Wow, okay, I didn’t expect that. Wow.” You couldn’t read the expression on his face. Some part of you wondered if he was waiting for you to make a comment about his money or his father. 

“Why did you take the train with me?” You asked instead. The concrete was rough beneath your shoes, a noticeable contrast from the smoothness of airport flooring. “You could have easily had someone pick you up. Pick both of you up. So why–?” 

“Because we wanted to,” Jon answered simply. 

“I am not in the habit of making,” Damian hesitated, “friends and then leaving them behind.” 

“Yeah,” Your heart thudded loudly in your chest. “I’m glad we agree on that.” 

An unfamiliar black car pulled up beside you. You took a couple steps back. It was nice, but anything unfamiliar, nice or not, wasn’t worth the risk. 

Damian, on the other hand, moved in closer. He opened the passenger door and said something to the driver then turned back towards you. 

“Do you want us to drop you off at home?”

You hesitated for a moment. Jon was looking hopefully at you. Damian’s “friends” echoed in your head. 

“Yeah,” you agreed. “That would be great.” 

Jon’s face split into a grin. The corner of Damian’s lips quirked up. There was some warm feeling in your chest at the fact that you caught it. You smiled back. 

Alfred Pennyworth, as you learned his name was, stopped the car right outside of your building less than thirty minutes later. 

“I’ll get your suitcase,” Jon offered, hopping out of the car as you collected the rest of your things. 

“Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth.” 

“You are very welcome,” he answered. 

You shut the door behind you, now face to face with Jon. 

“Is a hug okay?” You asked him. “I’m not sure if that’s a thing you do but-“

Jon gives good hugs, you decided immediately. You could feel the weight and warmth of his arms where they circled your shoulders. 

“I’ll text you, okay?” He let go, hands moving to shove in his pockets. “I’ll take a picture of Metropolis when I get home and send it.” 

You smiled at him; there was something concrete to look forward to. Damian came around the back of the car. 

“You’re not a hug person, right?” You asked him. He shrugged. 

“Only for certain people.” 

You nodded, oddly disappointed. Damian opened his arms. 

“Are you sure?” You asked him. He nodded and you let him set the pace, tightening your grip only when he did. Damian was a good hugger too, you realized. You wondered if the older brother you heard of hours ago on the plane and Jon both had something to do with that. 

“You guys know where I live now,” you adjusted your backpack over your shoulder and pulled up the handle on your suitcase. “So come visit sometime, okay?” Your gaze wandered over to Jon. “Well if you’re in town, I guess. Metropolis isn’t exactly walking distance.” 

Jon chuckled. 

“I’m here pretty often.”

Damian scoffed a quiet laugh. 

“We will. And keep in touch.”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “You guys too.”

You gave a final wave before heading into your building. A cloud of melancholy followed you inside. You ignored it, pulling dirty clothes from your suitcase to toss in the hamper before heading to take a shower. 

Hair dripping but finally clean, you flopped onto your bed, reaching for your phone. Three messages were waiting for you. You answered the one from your parent, asking if you’d gotten home safe. The second was an email. You’d deal with that later, after you got some sleep. The third was a picture from Damian. 

He didn’t even make it through my shower, the attached message read. On your screen, Jon was lying on a couch underneath Damian’s large dog. He was fast asleep. 

You laughed and replied, then set your phone down. A nap would definitely throw off your sleep schedule, you knew, but Gotham was nocturnal anyway. You slept the afternoon away.

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne x reader x jonathan kent #damian wayne x gender neutral reader #damian wayne x reader x jon kent #jon kent x reader #jon kent imagine #jon kent fanfiction #jonathan kent imagine #jonathan kent #emerson writes sometimes #one in eleven million