kitkatscabinet

[kitkatscabinet]

Early Morning Meetings

Summary: your brothers have no boundaries, guess it’s time to teach them a lesson.

Pairing(s): Platonic Batfamily x fem! reader, Kyle Rayner x fem! reader.

A/N: 18+ nsfw themes, minors evaporate! Published on my phone so unedited.

You've always been a light sleeper, even before you'd been inducted into the bat brand of paranoid lifestyle that had you jumping at shadows, living in Gotham would do that for a person.

The second you hear the slightest clatter of movement, you're up, eyes flickering open as you're already mid-roll off your bed. Beside you, Kyle sleeps on, blissfully unaware of the potential intruders in your apartment. A slight pout on his face as he unconsciously reaches for the body no longer sleeping beside him.

There's a creak, the whine of the broken cabinet door you'd yet to fix alerting you to the definite presence of an intruder. Cursing, you ran a hand down your face, reaching for the bat you conveniently kept at the side of your bed.

Phone in one hand with Oracle on speed dial and bat in the other, you swing your bedroom door open. You step out into the kitchen, winding the bat back over your shoulder ready to rain down hell, only to groan at the sight of two of your brothers.

Not wanting to wake Kyle, you close the bedroom door quietly before slumping into the seat beside Tim. Damn that man and his ability to sleep like the dead.

"Hello people who don't live here." You groaned, "And by that, I mean what the fuck are you doing in my apartment at..." You blearily blink the sleep from your eyes, swearing when your phone light blinds you, "2:18 in the fucking morning!"

"Having breakfast." Dick hummed through a mouth full of dry cereal, his silhouette illuminated by the still-open fridge door. "You're out of milk, by the way."

"I know, you finished it yesterday. And close the fridge you animal, you'll ruin my groceries."

"A baseball bat? Really?" Tim squinted in judgement.

"Oh, I'm sorry, the next time suspicious individuals break into my home at fuck ass o'clock, I'll get the Glock I keep under my pillow."

Tim eyes you warily, slightly hesitant. "You don't actually have one of those, do you?"

"Of course not", You scoff, interrupting Tim's premature sigh of relief, "I've got a colt - Dick seriously, close the fridge door!”

“I can’t see though.” He whines and you stare at him in sheer disbelief.

“Turn on the fucking lights?” One of the world’s greatest detectives your ass.

The sound of a door swinging open catches your attention and you nearly apologise for waking Kyle when you notice it’s not your bedroom door opening.

"What the fuck guys, it’s 2 in the morning." Jason’s voice is husky with sleep as he yawns, trudging into your kitchen and planking down beside you like nothing was wrong.

"Jason! What the fuck are you doing here?" You can practically feel the oncoming aneurysm. Why had you wanted brothers again? Maybe you could go back in time and convince Bruce the Wayne’s were a single child household. That could be nice.

"I was sleeping in my room." He groused.

"It's not your room, it's a guest room, and guests are supposed to let their hosts know they're here!" You hissed. Fingers twitching as you fought the urge to reach across and strangle the little shithead.

"Am I not a guest? Ergo, my room."

"Ergo." Tim mocked, barely dodging the spoon Jason had taken from Dick's hand mid-bite and thrown at Tim.

"Jason!" Three voices sing out in varying levels of despair.

Dick looks at the leftover contents of his bowl appraisingly, shrugging before tipping the ceramic back like a drink. Predictably, bits of cereal fall over his face and the floor you’d just fucking mopped yesterday.

“Murder is illegal and you love your brothers very much.” You whisper to yourself under your breath. Tim surreptitiously scoots his chair away from you.

"Baby?" A groggy voice called out, and you would have smiled at how cute your sleepy boyfriend was as he stumbled toward you, burying his face in your neck, if it weren’t for the laser focused stares of your younger brothers.

“Kyle?!” Dick choked.

“A Lantern?!” Tim moaned in despair.

“Don’t start this game with me Timothy. You won’t win.”

“People?” Kyle mumbled, finally looking up with sleepy eyes. “Baby, why are there people in our apartment.”

“Our?” Dick’s falsetto voice was honestly a little impressive.

“Because my brothers are animals that don’t understand boundaries.” You told Kyle, ignoring Dick’s ongoing stroke.

“Isn’t he unemployed?” Jason muttered with narrowed eyes, to which you flip him the bird.

“So are you fuckface! Also, I’m literally a millionaire.”

“So what he’s your sugar baby?”

“Please don’t call me that.” Kyle weakly moaned.

“He’s unemployed? How’s he going to help support you?” Dick was tugging at the roots of his hair now.

“Um wow? The 1950s called, they want their brand back.” You scoffed. "Besides, unlike you and Jason, I have no interest in cosplaying being poor. Kyle and I are both living on daddy’s money.”

Tim holds his hand up for a high five, which you grant, as Jason groans. “Please don’t ever call Bruce daddy again.”

“Oh I’m sorry, am I making you uncomfortable, Jason?” Kyle snorted against your neck, still draped over the back of your chair and hugging you as he left you to deal with your family’s bullshit.

“Stop touching my sister Rayner!” Dick was practically vibrating now.

In response Kyle reached up and squeezed your tits, causing all three of your brothers to start screaming once again as you smack his hands away. He’d definitely regret that when he woke up fully later, but for now your brother’s horrified reactions had given you an idea.

It’s a terrible one, but your head’s starting to pound a little and you’re beyond cranky and tired and you just want them gone.

Fuck it. You pull your shirt off, leaving you in just a pair of Green Lantern underwear.

Predictably, they scatter like rats, with Dick slamming into the still open fridge door.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” Jason screams as he stumbles blindly toward the window, Tim screeching about his eyes as he falls backward off the chair.

“You’ve all got about three seconds to get the fuck out of my apartment or risk witnessing me fuck my boyfriend right on this table.” You warned, already pulling a startled Kyle into a bruising kiss.

You moan loudly and obnoxiously, smirking in victory when your apartment is vacated in less than 10 seconds.

You may have just signed Kyle’s death warrant, but you’d make it up to him now, and later.

Kyle wakes before you. He’s never up before you. In the first few months of seeing each other he’d been convinced you didn’t sleep.

Frankly it’s only your love of garlic that has you beating the vampire allegations.

He’s awake before you and that means something is terribly, terribly wrong.

Turning his head to the side, his soul nearly vacates his body at the sudden sight of blank white eyes and a terrifyingly familiar black cowl.

He blinks and the bat spectre is gone. Kyle doesn’t fall asleep again. He doesn’t want to even blink for fear of suddenly seeing a bat shaped apparition.

You sleep on blissfully unaware. Even while Kyle becomes increasingly convinced he’s being menaced. You don’t even stir, because the presence of your dad isn’t a threat but a comfort.

Kyle wants to cry. You’re so lucky he loves you enough to put up with your psycho family.

He blinks and he swears he sees the afterimage of a looming Batman standing at the foot of the couch.

Ok so maybe, he loves you enough.

[kitkatscabinet]

HIYA! I just read your "You Look Like You've Seen A Ghost" and I'm now frothing at the mouth at how beautifully you wrote that piece 😭💕 I'm extremely enamored by how you wrote each characters reactions and, the Jason Todd and Bruce Wayne parts were especially my favorite. Of course Dick and Tim's were also really good but I'm a sucker for Jason and Bruce's solely for the knowledge of what they've gone through and experienced in canon stories. Like the mention in Bruce's bit where he confronted Talia and the LOA and she had to say it wasn't them like yEEEEESSSSSS ofc Bruce would assume that of LOA 😭💕 and when the reader outright smacks him with the baseball bat lol that was amazing!! Thank you for sharing such a great piece of writing :)

This literally made my whole day !!! Made me smile after a shit work day. 💙♥️

I’m actually so glad at least one person liked Bruce’s part cause I wrote it in like 5 minutes after having the rest of the boys done for days. I almost took him out but I’d already made the damn header pic and I didn’t want to redo it.

Bruce is genuinely tweaking like the League might not have been responsible for Jason’s resurrection but they took him after and so naturally that’s the first place everyone looks.

Tim’s giving Ra’s the most bombastic side eye. Damian steals a jet and flies all the way to accost the manager in person (Ra’s).

[kitkatscabinet]

Hi! First time requesting at your writing blog here ^^! Hope you have a nice day!

Could I see how you'd write the Batboys x gn!reader who they thought have died from being murdered by a villain!criminal (Joker, Harley, or Ivy, etc.) comes back alive but has no memory about the Batboys and becomes a vigilante just like them?

IM SO SORRY THIS HAS BEEN UNANSWERED FOR LITERAL MONTHS !!!!

HERE YOU GO MY LOVE

I did end up tweaking the request a little for certain boys to better fit the scenarios but I think I did pretty alright still. I hope you like it 😭♥️💙

[kitkatscabinet]

YOU LOOK LIKE YOU'VE SEEN A GHOST

Requested by @/rainbowstar

Summary: You were dead... weren't you?

Pairings: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne x gn! reader.

A/N: Unedited. Can you tell I sort of ran out of steam by Bruce :(

DICK GRAYSON

Blood stained his suit, his hands, drips from his hairline and over his domino mask. His blood sluggishly oozes from the various cuts littering his body, but it’s Slade’s blood that soaks the rooftop.

It’s Slade’s blood that’s splattered across his face and heaving chest like a macabre painting. Yet somehow, the ounces of blood spilled still pales in comparison to the sight that had greeted Dick in your apartment months ago. He still sees it in his nightmares, the blood, your blood saturating what was supposed to be your safe haven.

Slade’s gargled laughter that fills the air as he spits out mouthfuls of red tinged saliva. It’s Slade lying at his feet, at his mercy.

Mercy.

The thought of sparing the madman still smirking wickedly up at him, of granting any form of leniency for his crimes reinvigorates Dick’s fierce anger.

Slade won’t beg for mercy and Dick won’t grant it. Two truths they both know. Slade won’t beg like you wouldn’t have, and Dick won’t give any, the way Slade hadn’t.

Neither of them spoke as Dick pressed Slade’s own blade against the man’s neck, the thin scarlet line of blood that forms trickling down his skin quickly with the increase in pressure.

"Always knew you had it in you, boy wonder." There's an ounce of smug satisfaction in his tone that has him pressing the blade further into his neck.

"You seem awfully relaxed for a man on death's door." Dick sneers.

"I'm not too concerned with your ability to follow through."

Dick sees red, his arm swinging back, ready to dole out his vengeance, when a hand suddenly grabbed his wrist from behind, twisting it behind his back as a foot kicked his knee out.

He lands harshly on a knee, dropping the sword, he braces both hands on the ground, lashing out with his good leg. The assailant grunts but catches his foot forcing Dick to wrench himself free.

Slade doesn't rejoin the fight, which sets off all sorts of warning bells. Yet they all go ignore the second Dick lays eyes on his attacker. The bottom half of their face is covered by a mask, but their eyes, your eyes, are on display. Only there's no recognition there, only a cold and calculating gaze.

"Gorgeous, aren't they? Do you like my new masterpiece, Grayson?" Slade mocks, and Dick lunges, only to be stopped once more, by you.

He squeezes his eyes shut, yet when he opens them you're still there, still staring at him with those cold, dead eyes.

He's still stuck in this nightmare.

JASON TODD

Jason has a lot of regrets in his life. None so big as Ethiopia, than you. He regrets going to say goodbye to you before leaving, and more than anything he regrets letting you convince him to take you with him.

Jason's drowning in regrets but he could never regret loving you, not even if the pain of losing you was a raw wound that would never heal.

He hadn't forgiven Bruce for not killing the Joker for him. He'd begrudgingly come to accept Bruce's reasoning, but he'd never accept it, not after what that psycho had done to you.

He'd promised the Bat he'd stop killing, but as far as Jason was concerned, the next time the Joker busted out of Arkham, it was open season.

Yet annoyingly, every time it happens, one of his nosy family members is suddenly hanging off his arm. It's like they know what he's planning and make it their personal mission to ruin his day.

Not this time.

It's like fate had suddenly decided to smile down on him for once instead of mercilessly fucking him.

He'd been the closest to the asylum when news of the breakout hit the police scanners, and he'd be damned if anyone fucked this up for him.

It's not that hard to hunt down the clown, not when his grating cackles ring out through the air.

"Hoodie!" The madman greeted excitedly, laughing at the sight of the gun raised and aimed at the space between his eyes. "We both know you won't, don't wanna piss off daddy Bat— " A shot rings out, and Jason watches, stunned, as the Joker slumps, his brains splattering across the road.

"Hood!" Nightwing's caught up already, great.

"Wasn't me." He denies, the two vigilantes watching as a figure emerges from the shadows, a booted foot nudging the Joker before they empty a clip into the Joker's body.

Jason's in too much disbelief and more than a little satisfaction to chase after the masked individual but Dick isn't. He lunges with his Escrima raised, yet even Jason can tell there's not too much heat behind his actions.

Their masks slip off in the ensuing tussle, and Jason freezes in his tracks. Your name falls from his lips in disbelief. He watches with his heart in his throat as your face scrunches up in confusion.

"Who the fuck is that?"

TIM DRAKE

He can't remember the last time he slept, nor will he, not until he's found you. His family are worried, he sees the pitying glances they throw his way as they try to get him to rest, to pull him away from his all-consuming quest to find you.

Dick had even resorted to sedating him once, Tim wasn't stupid enough to fall for that one again.

They say that you're dead. That he needs to give up his useless search because you're not coming back. Tim had nearly broken Damian's arm for saying that.

He doesn't care that the amount of blood covering that warehouse, all your blood, would have been impossible to survive losing. He doesn't care that you've been legally pronounced dead because he refused to believe it. As far as Tim is concerned, until he sees your body, you're alive.

He knows he's been more violent than acceptable lately. Tim can't find it in himself to care that he may have permanently disabled a few of Penguin's goons, if anything, he wishes they were dead. One of these lowlives knows what happened to you, where you are.

It's Damian who finds him, kneeling in the warehouse he'd lost you, fingers lightly tracing the old blood stains.

"Drake." The usual scorn Damian reserved solely for him wasn't present for once but the disapproval is still evident.

"Not now, Robin." His tone is cutting, he's too exhausted to fight right now. Not here.

"Father needs you, the Court —"

"Good thing he has you and everyone else then." Tim scowled.

"What's this? Some baby birds far from the nest?" It's all the warning he gets before he has to spin and block an incoming blade. Speak of the devil. Talons.

Damian and Tim do their best to fend off their attackers, but Tim's so exhausted he's practically deadweight and they just keep coming.

He hears a yelp, Damian goes down, and he's too far away to help. Panic flares, he moves, but he's too slow. He's going to lose someone else in this godforsaken building. Except suddenly, one of the Talons is turning on their own.

Beggars can't be choosers. He'll deal with the rogue Talon later, but for now, they just have to survive.

When the dust settles, Tim's got all sorts of questions, none of which he gets the chance to ask when they remove their mask, and it's your face glaring at him.

"Why are you looking for me?"

Tim's not sure whether to laugh or cry. He does both.

BRUCE WAYNE

For years, he'd been afraid to let someone in, let someone get close for fear of them being used against him. But you were persistent and refused to let him push you away.

His children loved you. He loved you and when months passed without incident Bruce finally started to open up to you, to let you into his life and heart.

He promised to keep you safe and he did. For 8 years he'd kept you safe and protected. Nobody ever made the connection between you and Batman, none of his rogues ever even thought to target you.

But he'd let his guard down, he'd forgotten that Gotham was a cesspool of misery seemingly determined to ruin his life.

It's not the Joker that takes you from him. It's not the Joker or Two-Face or the Penguin or Freeze. It's not any of the various villains he's tangled with over the years

It's a stranger with a gun. You were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. A simple coffee date with one of your friends in a small cafe had ended with you dead, lying in the morgue, with Bruce having to make the identification. Having to tell his children why you're not coming home. Why you'll never come home again.

He moves listlessly through his days, refusing to plan your funeral or let anyone else do it. He knows he needs to put you to rest, but doing so will make it even more real.

Just another regret of his. 9 days after your death, he gets the call, your body is missing.

Bruce Wayne drowns publicly in his grief. Batman ruthlessly rains down his fury on the criminals of Gotham.

He tears through the streets like a hurricane, practically annihilating every gang and every low-life criminal apart on his hunt to find whoever took you.

Talia insists it wasn't the League; Jason rips his way through them anyway. Bruce doesn't dissuade him from the killing.

The JLA try to intervene, but Bruce nearly kills Superman for his concern. The fight is bloody and brutal, with Bruce inflicting weeks of fury and grief on his friend.

His knuckles are bloody, probably broken from Clark's stupid Kryptonian body when a voice, the voice he'd been hearing pleading for him in his nightmares screams at him.

He turns just in time to receive a wooden baseball bat to the jaw.

It would have been easy to dodge, to block or disarm them. But Bruce is so stunned by the appearance of a person with your face that he lets the attack land.

It's Superman who disarms you, attempting to calm you down as he defends Batman. Defends Batman because you, the person resembling you, don't seem to recognise Clark, let alone your own husband.

Bruce doesn't care, he hugs you tightly against him, face buried in your neck, even as you squeak and writhe in offence. To which he can't help but smile.

Memory or not. This is you, and he's never letting you go again.

[kitkatscabinet]

WOULD YOU FALL IN LOVE WITH ME AGAIN

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn! reader

Summary: you would fall in love with him over and over again.

Word count: 1k

A/N: Lyrics come from Would You Fall in Love with Me Again from Epic.

You were exhausted, work had been an absolute bitch today. You'd ended up leaving nearly an hour late, and then the grocery store had been out of the products you liked.

All you wanted to do was collapse face-first into your bed and sleep all weekend. You close the door behind you with your foot, the street lights filtering in from your apartment window your only source of light as you step towards the counter.

That same window that you very quickly realised was open, with a distinctly human-like shape crawling halfway through it.

You screech, stepping back in alarm and raising the plastic bags in your hands in front of you as a flimsy and pathetic barrier.

"No, no! Please don't be scared. It's me. It's me." The stranger pleads, stepping through the ajar window hurriedly, extending to a frankly terrifying height.

Yet any words, or screams you may have conjured die a swift death in the back of your throat.

The groceries fall to the floor with a thud, eggs cracking and vegetables bruising. Though the lighting was terrible, you couldn't help the wave of familiarity that washed over you.

It was stupid of you. It couldn't possibly be him, yet your body moved forward with single-minded determination, ignoring the warning sirens going off in your brain.

"Is it really you?" you walked dazedly forward, shaky hands reaching out to cup his scarred cheek. "Or am I dreaming once more?" Your voice is hoarse, and hesitant, distant to your ears

The man leaned into your touch, Jason, leaned into your touch. The tension melts from his broad shoulders, much larger than you remembered him being. His eyes shutter closed, brow relaxing as he basks in the feel of your gentle touch.

He was different, how couldn't he be? With the years that had come and gone, the unknown sufferings and horrors he must have undergone. Aside from the grotesque J-shaped scar carved into his cheek, his face had developed faint stress lines, dark circles lining under his eyes.

His eyes. The deep cerulean you'd loved so much was still the same, but the playful spark was gone, replaced with a weary exhaustion you longed to erase.

"I'm not the boy you fell in love with. I've done things... monstrous things." Even his voice had changed, a gravelly rasp that you suspected wasn't just from the tears threatening to spill over his misting eyes. "Any kindness, any goodness I might have possessed, has long been snuffed out. I'm not the Jason you knew before."

He's pacing now, agitated as he avoids your gaze, fearful of rejection.

You approach slowly, as if reaching for a frightened stray, fingers entwining with his much larger and calloused ones in a gentle grip, stopping him in his tracks despite how easily he could undoubtedly escape.

"What have you done Jay?" There's nothing but open acceptance in your gaze, a softness he'd forgotten could even exist. Everything about you was softer than the harsh, cutting edges of the League.

"These hands you cradle so lovingly are soaked in blood. I've become an entity of violence." He croaked. "I've callously traded lives, all of it to bring me home to you."

His chest shuddered on his next inhale as he all but rips himself out of your grasp. Instantly, you mourn the loss of contact, "It's selfish of me, but I can't help wondering. Would you fall in love with me again? If you knew what I've done? Could you even love me the same?"

He couldn't bring himself to glance in your direction, terrified of seeing the disgust in your eyes. He heard your soft footsteps approaching as he stubbornly refused to look at you, seeing only your hands reaching out to him once more.

He's too weak to pull away, even as you snake a hand up his chest to splay across his neck gently, your thumb rubbing circles against his jaw as you tilted his head up to look at you.

"I will fall in love with you over and over again. I don't care how, where, or when. No matter how long it's been, you're mine. Don't tell me you're not the same person. You'll always be my Jason."

You were exhausted, work had been an absolute bitch today. You'd ended up leaving nearly an hour late, and then the grocery store had been out of the products you liked.

All you wanted to do was collapse face-first into your bed and sleep all weekend. You close the door behind you with your foot, the street lights filtering in from your apartment window your only source of light as you step towards the counter.

That same window that you very quickly realised was open, with a distinctly human-like shape crawling halfway through it.

You screech, stepping back in alarm and raising the plastic bags in your hands in front of you as a flimsy and pathetic barrier.

"No, no! Please don't be scared. It's me. It's me, " the stranger pleads, hurriedly stepping through the ajar window and extending to a frankly terrifying height.

Yet any words or screams you may have conjured die a swift death in the back of your throat.

The groceries fall to the floor with a thud, eggs cracking and vegetables bruising. Though the lighting was terrible, you couldn't help the wave of familiarity that washed over you.

It was stupid of you. It couldn't possibly be him, yet your body moved forward with single-minded determination, ignoring the warning sirens going off in your brain.

"Is it really you?" you walked dazedly forward, shaky hands reaching out to cup his scarred cheek. "Or am I dreaming once more?" Your voice is hoarse, and hesitant, distant to your ears

The man leaned into your touch, Jason, leaned into your touch. The tension melted from his broad shoulders, which were much larger than you remembered him being. His eyes shuttered closed, his brow relaxing as he basked in the feel of your gentle touch.

He was different; how couldn't he be? With the years that had come and gone, the unknown sufferings and horrors he must have undergone. Aside from the grotesque J-shaped scar carved into his cheek, his face had developed faint stress lines, dark circles lining under his eyes.

His eyes. The deep cerulean you'd loved so much was still the same, but the playful spark was gone, replaced with a weary exhaustion you longed to erase.

"I'm not the boy you fell in love with. I've done things... monstrous things." Even his voice had changed, a gravelly rasp that you suspected wasn't just from the tears threatening to spill over his misting eyes. "Any kindness, any goodness I might have possessed, has long been snuffed out. I'm not the Jason you knew before."

He's pacing now, agitated as he avoids your gaze, fearful of rejection.

You approach slowly as if reaching for a frightened stray, fingers entwining with his much larger and calloused ones in a gentle grip, stopping him in his tracks despite how easily he could undoubtedly escape.

"What have you done, Jay?" There's nothing but open acceptance in your gaze, a softness he'd forgotten could even exist. Everything about you was softer than the harsh, cutting edges of the League.

"These hands you cradle so lovingly are soaked in blood. I've become an entity of violence." He croaked. "I've callously traded lives, all of it, to bring me home to you."

His chest shuddered on his next inhale as he all but ripped himself out of your grasp. Instantly, you mourned the loss of contact. "It's selfish of me, but I can't help wondering. Would you fall in love with me again? If you knew what I've done? Could you even love me the same?"

He couldn't bring himself to glance in your direction, terrified of seeing the disgust in your eyes. He heard your soft footsteps approaching as he stubbornly refused to look at you, seeing only your hands reaching out to him once more.

He's too weak to pull away, even as you snake a hand up his chest to splay across his neck gently, your thumb rubbing circles against his jaw as you tilt his head up to look at you.

"I will fall in love with you over and over again. I don't care how, where, or when. No matter how long it's been, you're mine. Don't tell me you're not the same person. You'll always be my Jason." 

“What? You can’t possibly…” He shakes his head in denial. He was a killer, a monster. Why couldn’t you understand, you were far too good for him; he hadn’t even meant for you to find out he was still alive. 

“Don’t presume to know how I feel, Jason.” You said sternly before your face softened once more, your fingers tracing his skin almost reverently again. 

“But — ”

“No buts. I don’t… I don’t give a fuck what you’ve done. Maybe that makes me a bad person, but the only thing that matters to me is that you’re alive. That you’re here, with me.” Despite your soft tone, there’s a fierceness in your eyes and desperation in your touch as you grasp onto him as if he may evaporate into smoke at any second. 

Jason knows that he’s not a good man. He’s selfish, greedy, and so, so weak to your touch. He’s been dreaming of this for years, of your touch, of you. Now that he finally has it again, he doesn’t think he’s strong enough to leave like he knows he should. Watching from afar, checking in to make sure you were safe, wouldn’t be enough anymore.

He whispers your name, a choked prayer as he finally allows himself to fully succumb to your loving embrace. He drops to his knees, face buried in the crook of your neck as you both hit the floor together, his arms locking you against his chest. 

The noise of Gotham’s nightlife fades to a distant blur, salty tears wetting the neck of your shirt as he urgently inhales your scent, committing the long-lost smell to his memory. 

“How long has it been?”

“Six years,” you answer through your own tears before saying the words he’d ached to hear, “I love you.”

“Truly? After all these years?” He rests his forehead against yours, raw vulnerability on display. 

“Always, " you firmly declare before pulling him into a deep kiss, and Jason temporarily forgets his worries and insecurities because all that matters is you. That after six gruelling years, he’s finally home.

[kitkatscabinet]

I know it’s been like .5 seconds but now I know you’re at least partially rocking with dc vampires… being the first person dick goes to after he turns, he tries to resist at first but you offer a little blood and every ounce of restraint he kept vanishes.

Torn between keeping you as his personal little blood bag and turning you so you’ll be together forever :((

KITKAT!! And yes, I’ve read DC vs Vampires, honestly surprised there isn’t more fanfic for it!

And Dick is definitely torn and exhausted after being turned, the remnants of his humanity being his guilt and betrayal after being lured in Pandora’s den by Melinda, and then killing Pandora and taking her spot as the Monarch.

So, when all is over and he now has a horde of vampires at his beck and call, relying on him to act in their best interest, he goes to see you first, clothes torn and bloodied because he didn’t think he would need his suit. Another regret to add to his never ending list.

So he stumbles back to your place, nearly collapsing in your arms when he enters through your window, exhaling harshly into your neck, shudders racking his body, because he’s so cold and you’re so warm

You don’t turn him away, even if he’s become an undead creature, with ice cold skin, you don’t know the insanity and sheer hunger they have. Naive in your kindness, he can’t push you away, feeding from your thighs, groaning at the taste of your blood before he turns his attention to the rest of your warmth, more than willing to repay you for the blood, since he still hasn’t had his fill, and he could never say no to dessert.

But I think he’d control himself at first, taking only enough blood so he doesn’t inhibit you, but by the time the vampires are ready to wage war against humanity, he will turn you, no matter how much you may protest. You’re in it for the long run, now.

At least, you become Queen of the vampires?? Yay!

[kitkatscabinet]

Nocturne

(Vampire Hal Jordan x Blue Lantern Reader) You would always be at his side, he’ll make sure of it.

“Hal…”

He was used to hearing you call his name. In shock. In exasperation. In pleasure.

But now you were saying his name in trepidation, the uncertainty clear on your face, as green bindings decorated your body, keeping you immobilized.

Apart of him aches at seeing you look so scared at just the sight of him, another part of him revels the same way a wolf does in sight of its prey.

“It’s going to be okay, you know I only ever want what’s best for you. That what I do is for your own good, even if you don’t see it right now,” he reassures you, hands cradling your face, forcing you to stare into warm, brown eyes, but you can only focus on the glint of his fangs as he talked, breath hitching.

Noticing your distress, he shushes you, bordering on condescending, “I know, I know, but just think about it. Us. Forever. Young and strong. You know there’s no one out there with enough will to take our rings, it’d be a never ending adventure. We’d fly and never land again.”

He still sounded like Hal. He was still Hal, and that was the scariest part. You can only lament at how this could possibly happen to him of all people.

“And at what cost?” You ask, meeting his gaze impassively, swallowing your nerves, “Feeding on others just to survive another day? Being at the heel of some cult leader fuck? You’re better than this, Hal. We can still fix this—“

He only tuts, shaking his head, “You’re still not seeing it. The whole picture. Leave it to you to never act in your own interest, nightlight.”

You exhale shakily at the nickname, and he softens ever so slightly, placing his forehead against yours.

“I need you to trust me. Trust that I’m doing this for you, even if you hate me for it. You promised we’d never part…I’m just making sure you can stick to your word,” he says, nose brushing against yours before he kisses you, gentle and sensual, hands trailing down to caress your neck.

You close your eyes before a blue shockwave pushes him away from you. The green binds don’t waver, but you only turn your attention to his ring, rapidly augmenting the ring’s capacity, until you hear his ring issue a warning as it reaches its limit.

“Stand down, Hal, I won’t let you do whatever you want,” you declare, watching him push himself up from his fallen position. Despite your threat, he looks unbothered, languidly approaching you again.

“You won’t,” he claims, smiling.

“You’re insane,” you glare, unsurprised at his audacity despite the severity of the situation.

“Isn’t that why you fell for me?” He says confidently, “You’re not fooling anyone. You can stop. No one would blame you, least of all me. You don’t want to do this. Just let me take of everything…”

You choke out a broken laugh, eyes burning. Your ring flickers before, dimming as your efforts cease. You were never much good at poker, especially when Hal was around to call your bluffs. Your restraints tighten, forcing your legs to give out as you fall to your knees, head dropping.

Hal would never call you weak of will, not when you could give any Green Lantern a run for their money, but you could never raise a hand to him. You were kind. That’s why he had to keep you, to do what you couldn’t bring yourself to ever do.

He circles behind you, before sinking to his knees, arms wrapping around your hunched form and burying his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent with a groan of satisfaction.

A sob racks your body, as he nuzzles your neck.

“I love you,” Hal breathes. Too much to even consider letting you go.

Something sharp pricks your neck.

Vampire BL/GL combo creating infinite blood hack, as Barry graciously volunteers to be in the middle of that sandwich…

Masterlist

[kitkatscabinet]

Might be a controversial take but

Dick “my partner can wear what they want cause I can fight” Grayson.

Jason “my partner can wear what they want cause I’m scared of them” Todd.

Bruce’s s’o “My man can wear what he wants cause he a hoe and I knew that when we started dating.”

[kitkatscabinet]

LANGUAGES OF LOVE

Summary: The ways they express their love.

Pairings: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Hal Jordan x gn! reader.

DICK GRAYSON: Words of affirmation

His communication skills may have suffered after a decade at Bruce's side, but the one thing he'll never fail to convey verbally is just how much he loves you.

Showers you with praises, pet names, and affirmations at every opportunity possible. You do something as simple as making him toast for breakfast that's slightly burnt? You're the light of his life, his honey pie, the greatest gift to mankind.

Will even loudly proclaim how much he loves you in front of his siblings during the family events you drag him into, much to their dismay.

JASON TODD: Acts of service

Unlike his older brother, Jason struggles to articulate his thoughts. Expressing his affection doesn't come easily, verbally and sometimes even physically he's not the best.

Has a bit of an angsty breakdown after you've been dating for a few months, tries to tell you that you deserve better, someone that can love you properly.

You know you shouldn't laugh, he's genuinely distressed but you're quick to reassure him that you know just how much he loves you. Cue the shocked pikachu face.

He buys the groceries, does the laundry, hell, he even arranges your plushies on the bed the way you like even when they take up his space. If it were up to Jason you'd never have to do anything but sit there and look pretty for him.

TIM DRAKE: Quality time

Tim's a busy man. Between vigilante life, the Young Justice Team, his family, and Wayne Enterprises, he barely has time to breathe, let alone for a significant other.

Despite this, you spend an exorbitant amount of time together. So much that even Dick thinks Tim needs to start spending some time alone. Tim thinks being away from you for even a second might kill him.

Literally has an allocated slot in his calendar/timetable entirely dedicated to spending time with you.

You two are the body-doubling template. You spend so much time together while also being separate that when Tim's working on a case, he'll automatically turn to look at you or ask your opinion even when you're not there.

BRUCE WAYNE: Gift giving

King of emotional incompetence. Spends his life throwing his money at people and problems that it definitely transfers to romantic relationships.

Early on this will be extravagant jewellery, dresses, anything you even look at slightly appreciatively for more than three seconds its yours. Hell, he bought you a kitten within the first few weeks of knowing you because of your reaction to an instagram reel.

It's shallow yes, but he doesn't really know any other way to be. Once you explain to him that you'll love him even if he doesn't spend millions on you he's still big on gifts because you absolutely deserve it.

As the months pass and he realises how much he loves you the gifts become more sentimental. Less throwing cash at you and more homemade family photo albums of you and the boys, your favourite flowers once a week, materials for whatever new hobbies you want to take up.

BONUS! HAL JORDAN: physical touch

We all knew this one was coming. Pretty much always needs to be touching you. There is no escape. Dread it, run from it, Hal's going to touch you.

Insists you sit on his lap when you watch movies together, always cuddling you when you're in bed, even when you protest that he's too hot. You give him a hand to hold as a compromise, only for you to wake up in a sweat hours later with him stuck to your back.

The type of guy who insists you wear pants/skirts with pockets on the butt so he can stick his hand in there.

"Hal, you're not gonna die if you're not groping my chest for like five seconds"

"You don't know that!"

Please just let him touch your tits, it's the quickest way to shut him up.

[kitkatscabinet]

do you do headcanons? if so can I get all the batboys (all of age ones of course + Bruce) just getting the BEST head of their lives? like im talking, legs being held up by their partner as they suck the literal SOUL out of them? (Its 3 AM and I am very deranged) if not 100% okay. I just needed to get this idea out lol

IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME LIKE 9 MONTHS BUT HERE

in hindsight it’s not exactly what you asked for but I hope you still like <3

[kitkatscabinet]

SUCK, SUCK, BLOW

Requested: by anon

Summary: Giving the batboys that sloppy toppy (I personally hate sucking dick so I hope this is alright lol)

Pairings: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne x gn! Reader.

A/N: 18 + minors evaporate !! Unedited.

DICK GRAYSON

This man is a FREAK, since you've started dating, the two of you have done just about every position possible. That being said, he's obsessed with giving you head. And by the time he is ready to cum he wants to do it whilst fucking you, not in your mouth.

It takes some manoeuvring, catching him after a long patrol or work out when he’s slumped against the couch (you don’t let him get the sheets sweaty if it’s not from sex). But the second your hand wraps around the base of him and you’re pressing a teasing kiss to the tip of his dick he’s putty in your hands.

He’s got a trembling thigh thrown over your shoulder, hands clutching the closest couch cushion as he babbles incoherently.

Tries to pull you off several times cause “baby, He’s not gonna last. Honey, he’s gonna cum before he can fuck you” :((.

Somehow still doesn’t get that that’s kind of the point. Ends up accidentally overstimulating himself cause he’s trying not to cum while you’re trying very hard to make him.

JASON TODD

It's not often that Jason's in the mood to let you suck him off, not when he deals with and sees so much fucked up shit every day. When you do fuck, he wants to hold you close. Wants to kiss you senseless and bury his face in your neck.

Your best bet? Wake him up with it. Jason’s a light sleeper, he’ll pretty much wake up if you shift even an inch beside him but it’s not impossible. It still takes his brain a few seconds to kick the sleep from his system and if you’ve already got your lips wrapped around his dick then he’ll simply malfunction.

Forgets your name, forgets his name, forgets where the fuck he is the only thing he knows for sure is the glorious warmth sucking his soul out.

Tries to hide his groans by burying his face in his arm, you’re not afraid to use a little teeth to warn him otherwise.

Genuinely meets god for a few seconds after he cums, hips jerking as he moans so loud the neighbours are definitely gonna complain later.

TIM DRAKE

Blowjobs are how you often bribe him into spending time with you.

He’s working on a case for too long? Hand in his pants, until you can get your mouth on him, a lot harder for him to smack you away.

Busy dealing with WE shit? You’re on your knees beneath the desk until he’s dragging you home/to bed.

You really, really want something? He’s so fucking weak to the feel and sight of your tongue sliding against his dick that you can get him to promise you anything in the moment. Though he probably will forget about it so you need to record him making those promises :))

Cries. No matter how often you suck his dick he never gets used to it. It’s like he’s a virgin and it’s the first time anyone is ever touching him Every. Single. Time.

He’s so overworked and exhausted all the time that it honestly doesn’t take much before he’s trying to tug you off as tears line his lashes cause sweetheart you’ve already made him cum twice. He’s sensitive. He can’t go again yet!

(Spoiler alert: he can. Though he might need a few hours to recuperate after)

BRUCE WAYNE

We all know he's done some questionable shit to maintain his secret identity. Once you've been dating for a while you're even willing to sometimes help him nurture the Brucie Wayne act. It's never anything super raunchy, but one encounter with a slightly too friendly-for-comfort Selina Kyle later and it's you who's acting up.

Pulling him into an abandoned corridor of whoever's sprawling mansion this party is taking place in and dropping to your knees. He puts up a token protest, (you both know he could easily stop you) as you undo his slacks but the second your lips wrap around him he's a goner.

Listen, he’s disciplined. He’s withstood literal torture but the way you swirl your tongue against him before you take him so deeply your nose brushes his pelvis is probably the most overwhelming sensation he’s ever experienced.

Keeps one large hand on the back of your neck, forgets to even use it for leverage he’s so out of it, thighs shaking and head thrown back against the wall as he bites his lip hard enough to draw blood.

Hell, he’s so lost in the heavenly feel of your warm mouth he doesn’t even notice the scandalised giggles that ring out before disappearing as not one, but at least three separate couples stumble across you.

[kitkatscabinet]

SING FOR ME BABY

Summary: The Batboys with a famous musician for an s/o

Pairings: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake x fem! reader.

DICK GRAYSON: Nu Metal

Everyone expects him to end up with a popstar, if anyone famous, someone typically feminine/fashionable to match his charm. They forget they're talking about the og crashout kid. After the incident that sees him stepping away from Robin and, subsequently, Bruce, he spends months thrashing bands like Limp Bizkit and Linkin Park

It's Roy that ends up introducing him to your band when he's suddenly unable to attend the concert he'd gotten tickets for. In typical Dick fashion, he forgets all about it until the day, attending on a whim and becoming a little mortified when he realises 1) he doesn't know any of your songs & 2) you're gorgeous. And oh my god, you're looking at him. You're laughing at him he swears!

He watches you smash a guitar into smithereens like it's nothing and he thinks he's in love. Actually shoves someone out of the way to catch the pick you throw.

It's you who slides into his DM's after the show, one of your bandmates having recognised him. He asks you out almost immediately, who cares if it's a little desperate? This man is determined to have you hanging off his arm by the next Wayne gala.

Being in a band lends you at least some anonymity outside of your fanbase, all of which is completely shattered once you go public with Dick. Not just because he's a Wayne and therefore pretty famous himself, but because he's so obsessed with showing you off, playing your music for anyone that will listen (and the people that don't want to).

JASON TODD: Pop

You're passing through Gotham whilst on tour when the inevitable happens, someone takes the opportunity to kidnap you. Enter the Red Hood, who just happened to be in the area.

Despite the hyperfeminine persona you display for your audiences, you know how to throw a punch. Which is the sight that greets Jason as he bursts through the window of one of the hundreds of warehouses in Gotham picked out by the amateur kidnappers, you, kicking the shit out of a thug whilst still in high heels.

For a few seconds, he forgets he's supposed to be saving you, too busy watching the woman decked out in pink sequins and glittery makeup kick ass. He gets his head in the game when a gun gets pulled and he's pulling you into his arms (totally unnecessary but he's not gonna pass up the opportunity. Hopes you don't notice how bricked up he is.)

You give his helmet a kiss of thanks afterwards, leaving a glossy mark whilst slipping him your number, neither of which he notices until hours later after a full day of patrol. He's never regretted the helmet over the domino mask more.

He can't exactly show his face in your music videos, but you can bet your ass he's not gonna let anybody but himself play the sexy muscular dude touching you up in them.

TIM DRAKE: Indie/alternative

He is the type of guy who sits with his iPad, phone, personal laptop, and even the bat computer open as he waits to snag tickets to your concert. He's getting those motherfucking backstage VIP passes if it kills him (or he has to kill someone else to get them).

Actually cries when he somehow still fails to secure one. Damian takes a photo and posts it on Twitter. Tim's too distraught to even care, that is until you message him. One of your friends showed you the post, and you thought he was cute. Bruce bursts into his room when he suddenly hears hysterical screaming, convinced his son is being murdered, only to back away slowly when Tim yells something about VIP tickets and some singer.

Nearly faints when you ask him out on a date after the show. He's sweaty, dishevelled and a massive mess after having a near-religious experience from hearing you live. He's honestly not convinced he's still alive, blacks out for a few seconds before all but screaming yes! in your face.

This man is your no.1 stan, and yes, that's a title he regularly defends on social media. Especially after you begin dating. Constantly gets into fights with the legions of lesbians who are distraught that you've got a boyfriend.

[kitkatscabinet]

[kitkatscabinet]

[kitkatscabinet]

Kurt reading the Bible for the first time

[kitkatscabinet]

scott summers save me

[kitkatscabinet]

love the batman ships where, batman autistic ass always never notices the other liking him one way or another like (like the other flirting with him, etc) . it just flys over his head i think we should do it more perchance.