sleepingdiaryzzz

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

So fucking jealous of the authors who knows how to not care about other's opinions and writes for themselves 😔 teach me your ways king🧎‍♀️

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

Who's that guy eating apple slices in ur gif👀 I wanna know who's obsessed w me

IT'S......

*drum sounds*

......Shang-chi from marvel!? Girl I thought you post DC people!

Y'all.... I thought dis was Tim Drake... 😭 there was probably another pic of dis on the poll... Let's jst pretend dis is Tim

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

I read the dickkory throuple asks, I have the following thoughts: BARK BARKBARK BARKBARK BARK BARK!!!!!!

Dickkory? Hmm tell me more

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

Can you please write Dick and Kory with a low energy reader?

Sorry if this comes off as rude or demanding, I've never requested before so I'm unsure of how to do this.

ᴡɪᴛʜ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴇs ᴛᴡᴏ ᴄʟɪɴɢʏ ᴀss ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ

ɴɪɢʜᴛᴡɪɴɢ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x sᴛᴀʀғɪʀᴇ

Hope y'all like it! 😁❤

ᴍᴏʀᴇ!

The first time Kory sweeps you off your feet—literally, both hands under your arms like a mother scooping up a particularly sluggish cat—you think about telling her to put you down. You don’t. That would take energy, and frankly, you don’t have it. Instead, you let your head tip forward until your forehead rests against her collarbone, warm like she’s been absorbing sunlight all afternoon. She makes a pleased noise, something like a purr, and spins you in a slow, weightless arc before setting you down on the couch.

"You should eat," she says, hovering, hands still on your shoulders like you might collapse sideways without her touch. "Have you eaten today?"

You shrug. "Probably."

"You do not know?" Her eyes go very round. "Richard, they do not know if they have eaten."

Across the room, Dick sighs, upside down from where he’s hanging off a pull-up bar. "You can’t just put them in a chair like a neglected houseplant and hope that fixes it, Kory."

"I would never!" Kory gasps, offended, already moving toward the kitchen. "Houseplants need sunlight, and they have not left the apartment all day!"

You slump further into the cushions, letting the argument flow around you. It’s not unpleasant, exactly. They talk loud, talk with their hands, talk like every word is worth saying even when it’s stupid. Kory’s voice carries like a song, her vowels stretched and rounded. Dick is clipped in that very particular way that means he’s making jokes to keep from saying something real.

"Here," Kory says, reappearing with something bright orange in a bowl. "You like soup."

"Do I?"

"Yes," she says firmly, pushing the spoon toward your hands.

There’s no argument to be had, not really. You let her press the spoon into your fingers, let her nudge the bowl closer, let yourself be cared for. It’s easier than resisting. Easier than explaining.

Dick drops down from his pull-up bar, shaking out his arms. He crouches next to the couch, eyes skimming over you like he’s checking for injuries. Maybe he is. Maybe it’s just a habit, like the way he tracks exits in every room.

"You okay?"

You blink at him, slow.

"Sure."

His mouth pulls sideways, not quite a smile. He raps his knuckles lightly against your knee and stands up.

Kory sits beside you, taking up more space than a person should. She does everything in abundance. When she laughs, she throws her whole head back. When she loves, she wraps her arms around the entire world.

When she worries, she brings you soup and cups your face in her hands and hums under her breath like she's willing you back to life with the sound of her voice.

And Dick—Dick worries in corners. He worries in clipped jokes and lingering touches and the slight crease in his brow when he thinks you aren’t looking.

It’s not bad, being loved by them. It’s just a little heavy.

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

I loved your defiant darling for your nightwing x reader x star fire series

Can I request maybe a darling who after being kidnapped starfire maybe tries to do their makeup or their hair because they think their depressed after being kidnapped

ᴘᴀɪɴᴛᴇᴅ ʙɪʀᴅ

ɴɪɢʜᴛᴡɪɴɢ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x sᴛᴀʀғɪʀᴇ (ʏ)

I shall return 🙌

ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ!

The room smelled like vanilla and something floral, sweet in a way that clung to the air, thick as honey. It wasn’t yours. You didn’t own anything that smelled this soft, this saccharine. Your things smelled like detergent, like soap and the fleeting ghost of fresh air from when you could still crack open a window and decide how much of the world you wanted to let in. Here, the air was controlled. Stagnant. Even the artificial light was curated, warm enough to feel like a sunset but never dim enough to invite the comfort of darkness.

It was a prison dressed in soft linens and foreign perfumes, and Kory had the audacity to hum while she rifled through her little acrylic containers of makeup.

“You are looking most sad,” she said, eyes flicking to yours in the mirror, half-lidded and unreadable. “Dick worries.”

It wasn’t a question.

She picked up something small and glossy—a tube of pinkish-gold—before setting it down and reaching for something darker.

“I do not believe the sadness is good for you,” she continued, tone light, like she was discussing something as inconsequential as a rain forecast. “Your body is unhappy. Your shoulders are tense. Your lips are dry.” Her eyes flicked back to the mirror, assessing. “This shade would be very nice on you, I think.”

You didn’t respond. It was easier not to. Easier to stare at the mirror with the kind of dull resentment that made your bones feel old, aching under the weight of fury that had nowhere to go.

Dick had tried to talk to you earlier. He had that damn patience, the kind that stretched and stretched like old elastic, never quite snapping. He’d sat on the couch, all loose limbs and easy charm, something bright in his eyes that never matched the sharpness of his mind. He had always been too good at talking. Always been too good at getting people to listen.

“You can be angry,” he had told you, voice softer than you wanted it to be. “But you have to understand that we’re doing this for you.”

And Kory—Kory, who was strong enough to tear through metal like paper but touched you like spun glass—was here, running a warm hand over your temple, brushing a stray strand of hair away before pressing something cool against your cheek.

Foundation. Or concealer. Some liquid thing meant to even out your skin tone, to smooth over imperfections, to make you presentable.

“You will feel better when you see how beautiful you are,” she assured, her smile unwavering, her fingers too gentle, too warm. “When you look good, you feel good, yes?”

The laugh that tore from your throat was sharp and humorless.

“Kory,” you said, flat and dull, staring past her to your own reflection. “I’ve been kidnapped.”

Her expression didn’t change. Not really. A flicker of something, maybe. Something too brief to catch before it smoothed back into certainty.

“I know,” she said, voice still light, still sweet. “That is why you are sad.”

Not because your freedom had been stolen. Not because Dick had taken away your phone and Kory had melted the lock on the door and their eyes were always on you, tracking your movements, patient, unwavering, like you were something fragile.

You let out a slow breath, something cold curling in your chest. “I’m not playing along with this.”

She hummed again, pressing her thumb against your jaw, tilting your face a little more toward her. “You do not have to. I will take care of it for you.”

The thing in your chest coiled tighter.

Her grip was light, but you knew, in the same way you knew how fire burned and ice numbed, that it didn’t have to be. If you jerked away, if you tried to move, she could hold you still like it was nothing.

But she wouldn’t.

Because she thought this was love.

Because she thought she was taking care of you.

Because she thought sadness was something that could be brushed away with mascara and foundation and the careful sweep of blush over your cheekbones.

Kory was still talking, something about color palettes and how your undertones suited golds and warm shades, and you wondered if she actually believed this would help or if she just wanted to make you easier to look at.

You let your eyes drift back to the mirror, to the way her fingers moved, precise and delicate, like she was painting something that belonged to her.

The air still smelled too sweet.

And when the door creaked open and Dick stepped in, blue eyes scanning, assessing, always watching, the thing in your chest curled so tight it hurt.

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

.. wait so you don’t answer ur anons to stay relevant?? 😭

I do answer themm, I've always wanted to answer them but my schedule is filled to brim and I barely even got time on myself 💔😭 so I don't, because I can't, answer anons for a very long time these days 😔, plus it's not always that I got ideas in my mind, got the motivation or strength (becuz I'm always tired, work...☕️) to answer them so I am really sorry y'all 😿 ily

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

My other anons watching me answer my other anons and disspear and come back answering other anons

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

Hi!! It’s 🪼 anon here

I took a break from tumblr for like a month BUT IM BACK!!! It’s awesome to see your new theme and read your new posts :D

I especially loved the one where reader takes a chunk outta Jason (I’m a sucker for when reader actually fights back at every chance)

❤️ from 🪼

OMGGG WELLCOME BACK POOKIE

so that's why I felt like something was missing all along

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

I want... A yandere romantic/platonic batfam (n other characters) x reader... That's not.. Neglected ☹️

Those neglected reader fics r fire as fuck, yeah, but I think I am getting sick of it always being the same ideas that I could predict the plot or always being the same concept... NO HATE TO THOSE WHO MAKES EM AND THOSE FICS I REALLY THINK ITS GREAT I jst wanted to see other things, other concepts, more on the romantic side (bc I'm desperate leyk dat 🤷🏽‍♀️) or maybe more of the characters on DC (like there's more DC characters that other than the batfamily that could be written a yandere fanfic of)

It's jst that I want to explore (😏) more of yandere DC fanfic ifyk what I mean, if not, I mean I want thengs like romantic yandere DC x reader or a platonic one that's the exception of neglected reader concepts. and I think I've read all of the yandere romantic and platonic (thats apart from the neglected reader) Dc x reader ffs

So Chat If you got recommendations help dis gal out cuz she hungry 😣😿😵💔

(Also dis just a short ramble of mine cuz I've been dying to yap dis out to everyone, no hate directed to anyone)

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

Hii!! Your work is compelling, especially with the lack of recent work in the genre you write for. Is there any chance you'd write for the newer yj team, though? Your writing for the old team is awesome, I just don't see a lot for the outsiders at all, it'd be refreshing ❤️

HI!! I'm sorry for replying late asf😭 but yes, I could also write a ff for the outsiders/young Justice 1998 members 💓

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

DID Y'ALL SEE THAT...

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

Imagine a reader ends up biting one of the Batfam members but it's not just any bite but a very strong bite that tears off part of the flesh, so how would the Batfamily react to that? (Bonus: and the reader ends up swallowing this piece of meat)

ᴛᴀsᴛᴇ ᴏғ ɪʀᴏɴ ♥︎

ʙᴀᴛғᴀᴍɪʟʏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ʏ!)

Ho, is y'all sharks?

More here!

Jason’s grip is iron. Too tight. A gauntleted hand wraps around your wrist, the other pressed to your shoulder, heavy with intention. There’s no struggle from him, no hesitation, just certainty—like you’re some cornered thing meant to be subdued.

And maybe you are.

The Batfamily took you. Dragged you down into the depths of Gotham’s hidden places, where light doesn’t stretch and choices don’t exist. You had fought—clawed, spat, burned through every ounce of defiance like a fire unwilling to die. But they’re patient. They wear you down. A wolf pack that never tires, circling and circling, waiting for you to make a mistake.

Jason, though? He’s different. Not a shadow like Bruce, not methodical like Tim. He meets violence with violence, and right now, he’s underestimating you.

His mistake.

Your teeth sink into his forearm with the kind of force that shatters bone if the angle is right. Jason’s sharp inhale is more surprise than pain, and for a moment, you think he’s going to shake you off like a dog with a bad habit. But then you tear—not just a bite, not a warning, but something deep, something meant to wound. Skin gives way. Muscle rips beneath your jaw. The taste of iron spills over your tongue, hot and thick, a rush of something primal tearing through you as Jason jerks back—too late, too slow.

The chunk of him stays in your mouth.

Somewhere behind Jason, someone moves. A chair scrapes. The air shifts. But you don’t look away from him, and he doesn’t look away from you. He cradles his arm, blood seeping through the ruined sleeve of his jacket, dripping in uneven patterns against the floor.

And then, without thinking, without planning—

You swallow.

Jason watches.

The room goes silent.

Tim is the first to speak, voice low, horrified. "Jesus.”

Dick stands, expression unreadable. His usual warmth, the easy charm he carries like second skin, has slipped. “They need to be restrained.” A glance at Bruce, waiting for the order.

Bruce, silent and still. You can’t see his eyes, but you feel the weight of them.

Jason flexes his injured arm, expression unreadable. He should be angry. Should be throwing you against the nearest wall, spitting curses through clenched teeth. But he just looks at you, blood slick between his fingers, and exhales something close to a laugh.

It’s not humor. Not really.

“You actually took a chunk out of me,” he says, like he’s still processing it. He rolls his shoulder, assessing the damage, before locking eyes with you again. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

You say nothing.

Your tongue sweeps over your teeth, tasting what remains.

Jason’s face shifts. The amusement—the disbelief—slips beneath something colder. He steps forward, ignoring the way Dick moves like he wants to intercept, ignoring the warning in Bruce’s silence. His good hand reaches out, fingers curling around your jaw.

You don’t flinch.

“Say it,” Jason murmurs. His voice is different now. Quieter. Interested. “Say you did that on purpose.”

Your lips part, not to speak, but to bite again.

Jason jerks back before you can sink your teeth in a second time, but the grin that stretches across his face is a dangerous thing. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“This one’s got fight,” he mutters, and there’s something in his voice that sets the others on edge. Tim watches like he’s cataloging data points, trying to piece together a reaction that makes sense. Dick’s frown deepens, a flicker of unease there now.

Bruce doesn't speak, he doesn't move.

“…You’re lucky,” Jason continues, tilting his head, gaze flicking to his arm. Blood still drips, slow but steady. “Anyone else, and you’d be missing a few teeth right now.”

His words should be a threat. Maybe they are.

But you meet his stare, unblinking, and you smile—soft, slow, just enough to show the stain of red between your teeth.

Jason laughs again.

He wipes more blood from his arm, still staring at you. “Yeah,” he mutters, voice low, almost to himself. “We’re keeping you.”

And this time, it sounds like something closer to acceptance.

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

ᴇᴄʜᴏᴇs ᴏғ ʀᴇɢʀᴇᴛ

ʙʀᴜᴄᴇ ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ x ɴᴇɢʟᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

I keep seeing neglected reader on my tags so I just wanted join in 🤗

ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ!

The Batcave was eerily quiet, the usual hum of machinery and the occasional rustle of paperwork replaced by the soft sound of a child’s muted whimpers. Bruce stood in the shadows, his eyes fixed on the small form curled up on the couch, barely visible beneath the pile of blankets and pillows. The child, no longer the one he'd once pushed aside, seemed to exist in a world far beyond his reach.

His heart clenched when they shifted, those silent tears that fell like raindrops that he'd never quite been able to catch. He hated that he couldn't fix what he'd broken, no matter how hard he tried. All the wealth, all the power, none of it could mend the distance he'd created. But now, in this cavernous space where shadows ruled and secrets whispered, Bruce was trapped in his regret.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice softer than he'd ever let it be before, as he approached the couch, bending down to meet their eyes.

Reader's gaze was fixed elsewhere, lost in the memories that lingered like ghostly echoes. A broken sigh left their lips. Bruce had made mistakes, but this—their distance—was one he could never bridge with words alone.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” they murmured, their voice almost inaudible beneath the weight of the years. “Nothing will change it now.”

They curled deeper into themselves, the soft rustle of fabric only adding to the bitter silence. Bruce frowned but kept his distance. His hands twitched with the desire to reach out, to hold them close, but he was well aware that doing so would only bring more pain. The walls they'd built were taller now, sharper. There was no way in.

It hadn’t always been this way, of course. Once, they had trusted him—believed in him as a father, as the man who could protect them from anything. But those days had been forgotten in the cruel labyrinth of his own failure. He'd seen it, watched them grow from afar, sure that his way of loving them—distant, reserved, and ever cautious—was enough. But he hadn’t realized that love was not a thing to be claimed, a thing to be controlled. It was something to nurture, to build, to protect with patience and understanding. Something he'd lacked.

He took a step forward. “I know I failed you,” he said, but this time there was no deflection. The words were heavy, real. “But I am trying to make it right, and I’ll keep trying. You don’t have to be alone.”

The words fell like a hollow echo in the stillness of the cave. Reader shifted, pulling the blankets tighter around them. There was a coldness in their gaze when they finally looked up at him.

“I don’t need you now. I didn’t need you then,” they whispered, their voice steady but laced with a bitterness that cut deep. “I had another family… one that didn’t abandon me.”

Bruce’s breath hitched, the pain of the truth settling deep in his chest. The weight of their words pressed against him like a thousand stones, heavier than any enemy he'd ever faced.

"Don't say that," he murmured, his hand reaching for them, but they pulled away, the rejection too swift, too sharp. The distance between them seemed vast, a gulf that no gesture could cross. "I know I made mistakes... but I’m here now. You’re not alone anymore."

They stared at him for a long moment, as if weighing every word he'd spoken, every action he'd taken. They’d been so small when he'd first met them, so innocent in their trust. He thought back to the days when their laughter had filled the Manor, when they'd looked at him like he was their world. It felt like someone else’s life now, a time when he wasn’t as broken as he was now.

“I miss my dad,” [name] said softly, so quietly that it almost seemed like a plea. Their eyes were distant, lost in memories Bruce would never be able to share. “I miss the family that actually cared about me.”

Bruce’s hand faltered, falling to his side as the weight of those words crushed him. They were right. He hadn’t been a father to them, not in the way they needed. His life, wrapped up in Gotham’s shadows and the endless pursuit of justice, had left no room for the most important thing: them.

A wave of guilt surged through him, drowning out everything else. "I’m here, sweetheart," he whispered, though he knew how hollow it sounded. There was no magic in those words anymore. They had no weight, no warmth. Just the coldness of regret.

[Name] didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge his words. Their gaze was elsewhere—lost to the past, to the family they had once known, the family who had cared for them when he couldn’t. The emptiness in their eyes spoke volumes, far more than any word could.

"I never needed you to come back," they said quietly, as if the words were simply a fact now, not an accusation. "I survived without you."

Bruce stood there, struck mute by the truth of it. The echoes of his failures rang louder than anything else. All the money, the power, the endless resources of the Wayne family had never mattered when it came to the one thing that would have truly made a difference: love. The kind of love that nurtured, protected, and understood.

He didn’t know how much time passed before they spoke again, but the silence stretched on like a wound that refused to heal.

"I don’t want your pity," they murmured, their voice so small that it cut him to the core. “You can’t fix me now. You can’t fix this.”

Their words were quiet, but they were final. The finality of it hit Bruce harder than any punch. He had been a hero to Gotham, had saved lives, had put down enemies. But when it came to the one thing that mattered most, he had failed utterly.

They were slipping away from him, even now. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Bruce stepped back, the weight of the truth settling into the hollow space between them. For a moment, he allowed himself to feel that emptiness, to understand just how much he had lost. He had missed out on a life that could have been, a life he could have shared with them if only he had been there.

He swallowed hard and turned, the overwhelming weight of regret pulling him deeper into the shadows.

"I’m sorry," he repeated, even though he knew it would never be enough.

But the words hung in the air like a fragile thing, doomed to fade before it could truly be heard.

And [name]? They simply lay there, wrapped in their own world—a world Bruce could never return to.

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

Yandere dick and yandere kori x adrenalin junkie reader?

ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴜʀɴ ✬

ɴɪɢʜᴛᴡɪɴɢ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x sᴛᴀʀғɪʀᴇ (ʏ!)

omg anon I am so sorry for the late reply you were deep inside(🤯) my inbox😭 ilysm anon dear so sorry for making u wait and making dis short boring ass reply💗😢

ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ!

There’s something about the moment right before impact. A razor-thin stretch of time where gravity abandons you, where air turns solid, where your body sings with the promise of a fall. It’s the kind of sensation that makes your pulse hammer against the cage of your ribs, that makes your fingers twitch, that makes you feel alive.

And they know it.

They watch you like fire watches a wick.

The three of you sit on the edge of the rooftop, the city stretching far beneath your feet. It’s an old, crumbling structure—one you had to shimmy up a drainpipe to reach, one that swayed ever so slightly in the wind. The kind of place that would send lesser mortals scurrying for safer ground. But for you?

You tip your head back and laugh, staring up at the sky, heart hammering as the air thins. You feel the weight of their eyes before you turn to meet them.

Kory’s gaze is molten, bright and all-consuming. Not in the way fire burns recklessly, but in the way it chooses what to devour. It’s worship and hunger wrapped in one, barely softened by the way she smiles, golden hair glinting under the neon haze of the city. Her legs dangle over the edge beside you, completely at ease, yet you can feel the tension in her muscles—ready to move, ready to save you if you fall, even if she has to burn down the world to do it.

Dick, on the other hand, is all restraint. He leans back on his palms, casual, like this is just another night, just another thrill. But you’ve known him long enough to see through the act. His fingers curl against the concrete, tapping out a rhythm against the rooftop—one-two, one-two-three. A habit. A tell. He’s measuring something. Calculating.

"You're thinking about it, aren’t you?" His voice is smooth, teasing. He already knows the answer.

You glance back over the edge. The streets below seem distant, the flickering streetlights turning everything into a distorted dream. Your grin widens. "Maybe."

Kory hums, tilting her head. "Would it be fun?"

"Absolutely."

Dick exhales through his nose, amusement laced with something deeper. Something darker. "You really want to give me a heart attack, don’t you?"

Your lips part to answer, but then—you move.

The wind howls in your ears. The world tips sideways. Your stomach twists into a sharp knot of weightlessness, and for a heartbeat, there is nothing but the drop. The rush. The moment where your body isn’t quite sure if it should prepare for impact or revel in flight.

But, of course, they catch you.

They always do.

Kory’s arms close around you first. A streak of fire, the heat of her body pressing against yours as she lifts you, her grip as unshakable as the stars. Dick is right behind her, the familiar coil of his grappling hook pulling both of you back toward the rooftop. They move like a unit. A force. A gravity all their own.

The landing is rougher than necessary. Not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you—they didn’t appreciate that little stunt.

Dick is on you in an instant, fingers digging into your waist, his breath sharp. Kory doesn’t let go either. Her arms remain wrapped around you, a lock of gold falling over your cheek as she leans in, forehead brushing yours.

"That was reckless," Dick murmurs.

"You do reckless things all the time," you counter, breath still uneven.

"Yes," Kory agrees, her voice warm. "But we are not willing to watch you fall."

You should be annoyed. You should roll your eyes, brush them off, tell them you had it under control. But there’s something in the way they look at you that makes your heartbeat stutter. Not anger. Not frustration.

Something deeper.

Something like devotion.

Dick’s thumb drags against your jaw, featherlight. His expression softens, but it does nothing to hide the storm behind his eyes. Kory’s arms tighten around you, pulling you close enough to feel the warmth of her skin through your clothes.

"You don’t get to scare us like that," Dick says, and there’s something final in his voice.

"Not ever," Kory whispers.

The way they hold you—it should feel suffocating. But instead, it feels like gravity.

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ɪᴛ...ᴘᴜᴘᴘʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ♥︎

ᴊᴏɴ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

platonic, ig? Jon is 10 while you're 18+ in this LMAO in which Jon has a crush on you but you, despite being a 18+ year old ahh vigilante is oblivious to all of it. Not a yandere content, jst chill rn

ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ!

The Kent farm always felt like a second home to you. The golden fields stretched endlessly, kissed by the late afternoon sun, and the gentle hum of the wind was a melody you had grown fond of over the years. It wasn’t uncommon for you to find yourself here, sitting on the porch with Lois and Clark, sharing laughter and stories about the League, or helping Jon with his homework at the kitchen table.

Jon had always been a sweet boy—bright, cheerful, and endlessly curious. You had known him since he was a wobbly infant, drooling on your shoulder as you cradled him. You remembered the way he giggled when you’d tickle his tiny toes or sing lullabies softly enough to lull him to sleep. Those memories made your heart swell with affection for him, even now that he was ten years old and growing faster than the crops in the fields.

But lately, something about Jon had changed.

“Y/N, are you staying for dinner?” Jon’s voice piped up from the living room, where he sat cross-legged on the carpet, pretending to read a book. His eyes, however, were fixed on you like you were the most fascinating story in the world.

You glanced up from the kitchen counter, where you were helping Lois chop vegetables for the evening meal. “If it’s okay with your mom and dad, sure. I don’t want to impose.”

Jon’s face lit up like Christmas morning. “You’re not imposing! You can stay as long as you want!”

Lois, standing beside you with a knowing smirk, muttered under her breath, “He’d probably ask you to move in if he thought you’d say yes.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “He’s just being polite, Lois. He’s such a thoughtful kid.”

Lois froze mid-chop, her knife hovering above the cutting board. She turned to look at you, arching a brow. “Thoughtful, huh? Y/N, sweetheart, I love you, but you’re dense”

You frowned, tilting your head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Jon likes you,” she said bluntly, the words hanging in the air like the stillness before a storm.

You blinked, momentarily taken aback. Then you laughed, the sound light and airy, brushing away the tension Lois was trying to create. “Of course, he does. I’ve known him his whole life. We’re close.”

Lois groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “No, Y/N. He likes you. As in, he has a crush on you.”

Your laughter faltered, replaced by a puzzled expression. “Lois, come on. He’s just a little boy. He’s sweet and affectionate—that’s all it is. Kids are like that.”

Lois stared at you, her lips pressing into a thin line as she fought the urge to bang her head against the counter. “Right. Sure. Just a sweet little boy. Nothing else.” She shook her head and muttered something about needing a Pulitzer for dealing with this level of obliviousness.

Meanwhile, Jon, who had overheard the entire exchange from his spot in the living room, felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. He buried his face in his book, hoping the ground would swallow him whole.

The truth was, Jon’s crush on you wasn’t just a passing whim. To him, you were the most incredible person in the world. You were strong, kind, and effortlessly cool. He’d seen you fight alongside his dad and the Justice League, holding your own with a grace that made his young heart race. But it wasn’t just your power that captivated him—it was the way you smiled, the way your laughter filled the room, and the way you always treated him like he mattered.

When you were around, Jon felt like the most important person in the world. And he wanted to be worthy of you.

Clark, ever perceptive, tried to broach the subject later that evening while you sipped tea on the porch swing. The sunset painted the sky in hues of gold and crimson, and the air was thick with the scent of freshly tilled earth.

“You know, Jon talks about you a lot,” Clark began, leaning against the porch railing with an easy smile.

You looked up from your mug, your lips curving into a soft smile. “Does he? That’s sweet. He’s such a bright kid—always curious about everything.”

Clark nodded, his smile faltering slightly. “He looks up to you, you know. You’re a big part of his life.”

Your heart swelled with warmth at the thought. “I love that kid, Clark. He’s like a little brother to me.”

Clark hesitated, his brow furrowing as he searched for the right words. “Right, but maybe he sees you as...more than that.”

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “Clark, he’s ten. Kids get attached to people they admire—it’s normal. He’s just a kind-hearted little boy.”

Before Clark could say more, Lois stepped onto the porch, her arms crossed and her eyes filled with exasperation. “For the love of God, Clark, give it up. She’s as clueless as you were when we started dating.”

Clark straightened, looking mildly offended. “I wasn’t that clueless.”

Lois snorted. “You didn’t even realize I was flirting with you until I spelled it out.”

As they bickered, you sipped your tea, completely oblivious to Jon peeking through the screen door, his heart sinking with every passing second.

Jon decided that if words weren’t enough to make you notice, he’d have to try harder. Maybe he’d write you a poem, something that captured how he felt when you smiled at him. Or he could bake you a cake, like the ones he saw on TV shows, with “You’re amazing” written in frosting.

But for now, all he could do was watch you, his young heart beating wildly every time you glanced his way. To Jon, you were a constellation in human form, shining brighter than any star in the sky. You were the one who made the world feel magical, who turned ordinary moments into memories he wanted to keep forever.

When you smiled at him later that evening, ruffling his hair affectionately, Jon felt like he could fly without his powers.

“You’re going to grow up to be such an amazing man, Jon,” you said warmly. “The world’s lucky to have you.”

Jon swallowed hard, his cheeks turning pink. “Thanks,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

Lois, watching from the kitchen, slapped a hand over her face. “This is painful to watch,” she muttered to Clark.

“Give it time,” Clark said, though even he looked concerned about how long it might take for you to catch on.

And so, the cycle continued. Jon adored you, wearing his heart on his sleeve, while you remained blissfully unaware. To you, he was just a sweet kid you’d known forever. To him, you were everything.

But Jon was nothing if not determined. One day, he promised himself, he’d make you see. For now, though, he was content to sit by your side, basking in your presence, while his dreams of the future danced in his young mind like fireflies in the twilight.

Jon n you fr:

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑐𝑢𝑝 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑒𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑦..

𝐹𝑜𝑟 𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑒

ᵀʰᵉ ᵈᶦᵃʳʸ ᵒᶠ ᵃ ᶜʳᵉᵉᵖ!

Disc! ✭

ʚ the subjects written down below includes obsessive behavior, angst, fluff, poly, gxg, mxm kidnapping, yandere behavior, ect.. If you are disinterested in the subjects mentioned, please leave immediately. Do not leave any hate or death threat comments on my account. Feedbacks are apprised, if you don't find my writing satisfying; please deliver immediate feedback for me to improve to your taste! The reader's satisfaction are very dear to me and I am determined to make my writings more better. Now before you continue remember; this is just a fan fiction, there might be some errors on the characteristics which makes the character not act like their canonical character.

Thank you and enjoy!

✿ – ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇ

Part of the family - Batfamily

Just a friend – Wally n dick

✿ – ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛ

A loving feeling – Connor kent

Sucker punch? More like suck at punch – batfamily

Stuffed day – justice League

Escapade – justice League

Unicorn poop – batfamily

My love, your life – Connor kent

The taste of iron – batfamily

✿ –ᴏɴᴇsʜᴏᴛ

Puppy love – Jon kent

✿ – sᴇʀɪᴇs

Book of love – yandere Starfire x reader x yandere Nightwing

Dear diary... – yandere young Justice x reader

Book of shadows – yandere batfamily x neglected reader

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

Embrace the urge, make it so every time I visit your blog I’m hit with a new theme

Or don’t embrace it, Idk man 🧍‍♀️

Love from 🪼

Lowkey da itch starting to get burn thou😖 I wan start a new ass me just wait up a sec n when u blink I've changed to pink KSNJSDJSJSBSK