#—ooh read this

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

my masterlist

THE BATBOYS x YOU:

dick grayson/nightwing

ex boyfriend!dick grayson:

distraught // trouble // atonement

wayne heir!dick grayson (x socialite reader):

talk talk

cowboy!dick grayson:

blue on black

divorced dad!dick grayson:

love thy neighbor

former cheerleader!dick grayson:

be impressive, b-e impressive!

jason todd/red hood

your boyfriend!jason todd:

stories left untold

biker!jason todd:

shameless

tim drake/red robin

CASUAL:

prologue // chapter one // chapter two/two and a half // chapter three // chapter four // epilogue

wayne executive!tim drake:

headcanons

roy harper/arsenal/red arrow

pool boy!roy:

guilty pleasures

quick fics

your boyfriend!jason todd:

jason todd, but..

your boyfriend’s clothes

cuffed

just roommates

misc. batboys:

wanna see you undo it

moodboards

tim drake:

wayne executive!tim drake

emo boy!tim drake

dick grayson:

wayne heir

social media AUs

your boyfriend's instagram:

jason todd

wally west

dick grayson

roy harper / proud dad

damian wayne

tim drake

requests ..i'll do 'em when i do 'em

ex bf!tim drake returns

fluff w/ dg and jt

dick grayson x vigilante!reader

jason todd//size kink

love at first sight//cowboy!dg

hurt/comfort dick grayson

bruce wayne nsfw alphabet

divider courtesy of this lovely post

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

someone on here wrote the craziest delicious long roommate jason fanfic and i just what to say whichever one of you it was i love u and think about that fic very fondly and very often

[jq37]

You gotta hand it to Fig. All of the Bad Kids were given foils this season and they got to decide how much they wanted to engage with that part of the plot. Gorgug only interacted with Mary Ann in passing despite them both being on the Owlbears. Fabian noped out of chatting up Ivy once she crossed a line with Mazey. Riz was so busy that he truly had no time to engage with Kipperlilly even though she's obsessed with him. Kristen interacted a bit with Buddy but spent way more time verbally sparring with Kipperlilly. And Adaine was somewhat interested in Oisin but never overtly acted on it.

But Fig?

She's in Ruben's WALLS. She's in his DREAMS. She's faking her alter emo's death. She's got the Fantasy FBI after her. She's SO SO tiny. No one is doing it like Fig's doing it.

[sexy-sapphic-sorcerer]

Black Sails, S4.E03 /// Ursula Le Guin

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

siiigghhh.....

Loving on Jason Todd after a long night of patrol.

He's sitting in the bathtub, the water pooling around his limbs stained pink from all the blood washing off his skin—none is his, and you're thankful for that.

Your hands gently scrub his hair as he sighs, relaxing against the white porcelain. You take extra care in scrubbing the sweat from the white streak in his night-black hair. Soap-lathered fingers scrape at his scalp, gently ridding the grime of the Gotham streets from his body.

It's nothing sexual when you help him wash, running a cloth over his arms and legs and scarred chest, taking careful measures to not go too hard over the 'Y' that runs under his pecs and down his belly. You kiss his heart, and he breathes a huff of relief at the sheer domesticated feel of it all.

Jason loves being pampered by your hands, the ones that have never harmed him. He feels safe, even though he is in his most vulnerable state. He'll lazily follow the motions of your hands with his eyes with a little grin on his lips, leaning into every touch, soaking in every soft word.

My boy, you call him, and the world seems all sunshine and rainbows for as long as you're with him. He wishes you'd stay forever, be his forever.

Jason loves you a little too much.

[a-lurking-fae]

◇ SYNOPSIS ¡ — in which a girl is born, only to live in conplete and utter tragedy.

◇ WORD COUNT ¡ — 1.4K

◇ SERIES ¡ — BATFAM X FONTAINE! NEGLECTED READER

The sounds of a baby's wails plague the halls of the Wayne Manor, Richard Grayson— the adopted son of Bruce Wayne, who watches on his father's misery. His mother, well, adopted mother, has just passed away from childbirth. Her child (Name) is being held by their most trusted butler, Alfred.

Bruce holds his wife's hands as if it was his only lifeline, his screams of anguish mirror the infant’s cry for their mother. The night is filled with horrible memories, forever to be remembered.

────୨ৎ────

(Name) walks the halls quickly and quietly, afraid of the monsters that may take her if she is not careful. She opens the door to Jason's room. He was recently adopted by Bruce and was a delight to be with. Jason was her only refuge for warmth in this cold manor, although she was not oblivious to their… nightly activities.

She smiles at her brother, who just came from a mission, holding a book in her hand. “Hey bub! Do you want me to read you that one tonight?” Jason beams at you. A cute little sister to see him after he gets home? YES.

Jason lifts you to his bed, setting you near the wall to make sure you don't fall. He picks the book up and starts reading. After lulling you to sleep, Jason kisses your forehead, wishing you sweet dreams.

Jason is dead. That is what you can think about. Your father held a funeral for him to honour his memory. You hold onto his stuff. Sometimes, you sneak in his bed and sleep in it. The remnants of him were preserved in that room. You wished he could have seen you sing the songs dedicated to him on stage.

Tim came into the picture. He saw you as a weakness in the family. You could easily be kidnapped, an innocent civilian never meant to be here. But he cared for you in his own ways, how could he not? You were a bit younger than him, a cute little thing with doe eyes and chubby cheeks.

He maintained his distance, making sure not to get attached. He never really knew how to handle things like family after all. Barbara came to the manor sometimes, although you both never really had much interaction. Damian came into the picture. He was cute but a demonic thing nonetheless.

Cassandra, Stephanie, and Duke came to the family, with them being Orphan, Spoiler, and Signal. You were pretty jealous of Cass. She always seemed so… loved. You truly wanted to bond with them all.

They always spend time with each other, and heck, Dick sometimes came to the manor to spend time with Damian! He had time for everyone except you. Jason? He's avoiding you like the plague! You don't really understand why though, did you do something you weren't aware of? Tim, the boy barely interacted with you!

Damian? Nope. Barbara? Too busy for you, apparently. Cassandra? She's a bit scary, but she's fine. Stephanie? Also too busy! Your own biological father (who should definitely just be called sperm donor), ignored the fuck out of you.

You went to the beach to let out some stream. After all, can tears be seen and shed underwater? You swim to the far sea, the waves soon taking you deep. You try to reach the surface, but you can't. You breathe and— wait, breathe??

You open your eyes to unfamiliar waters, you see land and quickly swim towards it. Coughing up some water, you see two men, a flying snowball, and a very pretty lady. You feel dizzy, your eyesight is blurry, and… you lose consciousness!

You wake up, lain in soft silk sheets that definitely beat yours. You look around to see some people surrounding you. “Hello, dear. I am Furina de Fontaine, the Hydro Archon, God of—” She gets cut off by the snowball, “Just get to the point already!” she huffs in the air, kicking in frustration.

“Fine, fine!— Man in blue, My Iudex, Neuvillette. Man in black? The Duke, Wriothesly. Blondie, Lumine. Flying pet, Paimon.”

“I am not a pet!—”

Ms. Lumine— you believe, covers her mouth and takes her away with Mr. Wriothesly behind them. “Right, back to the topic, do you know this person, little one?” Mr. Iudex points to a painting, and you froze.

The painting looks hauntingly like the woman plastered on the walls of the manor— “Mom…” they both look shocked at your response, nodding at each other. “I am your grandmother, my dear. He is your grandfather. Do you think you could tell us what happened?”

“I… She's dead. She passed away after giving birth to me.” You look away. They're sure to hate you, too. Furina embraces you tightly, tears roll down her cheeks. The loss of a child is never light. Neuvillette pats her back, and you hear a light drizzle outside. It quickly becomes a turbulent storm, as Iudex weeps as well. The three of you embrace each other, unwilling to let go.

You eventually figured out how to get between the two worlds with your mother's diary. It was kept by Iudex, and not an inch of dust has reached its pages. You read about her adventures, how she ended up in Gotham, and how she decided to leave Fontaine.

“Your mother was a cheerful person. You certainly took after her the most. ”Neuvillettes's eyes softened at you. “My dear, do you truly have to return to that place? You could simply stay here—” Furina looks at you, you were an adventurer, she never really had the ability to keep you down. After all, she knew what that felt like.

“Nana, I like to explore, a trait from my mother. I have two vast worlds that allow me to see magical places. Who am I to refuse such sights?” You stuff your mouth with cake, it was your favourite flavor.

“The abyssal corrosion is taking me slowly, I believe I have enough time to explore more. That is my wish, nana.”

You smile at them, their expressions are unreadable. Neuvillette clenches his teacup, nodding at you. “If that is what you desire, then so be it my dear.” Tea time soon ends, and you return to Gotham.

You lay in your bed. ‘One last chance, then I'll stay in Fontaine forever.’ You think your performance was coming up soon. If they didn't come, then that is it.

The next few weeks were certainly nerve-wracking. On the day of the show, you get up on the stage, and do your absolute best. You sang your heart out like never before, people shed tears during your performance. They were nowhere to be seen. You should have expected this.

“Great job, (name)!” A stage designer came up to you, handing you some gifts from the crowd. You adorned a smile, pearls on your neck lit up at the lights. There are so many praises from people you don't know, yet not a single family came.

You return to the manor, quickly writing a letter to Alfred. You knew it couldn't be helped. You make your way to the beach, Alfred came home right when you left.

The letter sat on his desk, opening it shook him.

Dear Alfred,

It has truly been a delight to be with you. It is hard to simply leave you, so I leave you this letter. I hope that you may find your peace in this manor, thank you for all these years.

Truly yours,

– (Name) de Fontaine.

Alfred quickly went to the batcave, calling everyone on patrol. He accessed every camera nearby, trying to find you. Were you trying to kill yourself?

“Alfred?” Dick spoke first. The rest listened. “Ms. (Name) might be trying to kill herself, I'll try to find her.

Bruce is shook. What parent wouldn't be after hearing that. He doesn't know where to start looking, so he and Damian search the places your mother would go to.

Alfred finally finds you heading to the beach. You loved that place. “She's at xx-road, heading to xx-beach.” They all rush to the coordinates, hoping they weren't too late—

There you were, in a white dress, you could get sick in that! “Goodbye.” You start to turn to foam. They rush towards you, but they are too late. Your shawl floats to Bruce. He grabs it, trying to find a semblance of you. They'll find you soon, just wait for a bit.

You return to Fontaine, going to Palais Mermonia, munching on some pasta Furina made, as they both work.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────

NOTE : Whew, so that was chapter 1! I'm loving the gradient hehehehe. (If I learn more I will become unstoppable)

[batstronaut]

I wrote an incredibly self indulgent second chapter of baby CaitVi bein' cute at the function hbd caitlyn kiramman u r the character of all time

you can check out my first drawing for the fic here

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

₊⋆☾ welcome back…☽⋆₊

REMINDER: MINORS DNI.

18+ ONLY

“it’s nice out…

.｡.:* i’m ness rose, or ness. 19.*:.｡.

.｡.:*☆ please reblog.. i appreciate it !! ☆*:.｡.

☆*:.｡.currently writing for: the batboys, xo.｡.:*☆

.｡.:*☆ m.list ☆ rules ☆ about me ☆ forms ☆*:.｡.

☆ ★ requests are now closed ★ ☆

© under no circumstances is my (@delusionsofgrandeur13) work to be reposted, copied, translated, or fed into ai. tumblr is the only place you will find my original work.

…want to go out?”

divider

[jjklover365daysayear]

AYAYAYAYAYYAYAYA I LOVE THIS FLUFF ITS SO CUTEEE

jason todd has a hoodie. the hoodie. oversized with sleeves long enough he can pull them down to swallow his hands when he’s anxious. thick, jersey knit cotton in a rich red that’s been worn down and washed out to something more faded. a deep hood that can block out the world down to what’s in front of him. a front pocket big enough to fit a medium sized paperback. it’s a feature he’s abused often. the elbows are worn soft, not thin, and it’s perfectly broken in, fibres soft from heavy use.

it’s his favourite hoodie. one of the first things he bought just for himself after his resurrection. the first bit of creature comfort he had allowed himself. a little silly, but it feels like a magic charm. he pulls it over his head fresh from the dryer and poof, nothing bad can touch him.

that’s why when he drops it into your lap one day, it means something. his two lucky charms, bundled up together. you run covetous hands over the thick material, still warm from his skin, and he knows he’s gonna be finding it draped around you in the future. the hoodie finds itself in the bedroom floor time after time but jason doesn’t really mind. he’ll just pop it in the wash on the regular cycle, then in the dryer with the wool dryer balls you cajoled him into getting, and it’ll be good as new. ready and waiting to work its magic whenever he needs it.

[mobydyke]

[sexting] no live organism can continue for long to exist sanely under conditions of absolute reality; even larks and katydids are supposed, by some, to dream. Hill House, not sane, stood by itself against its hills, holding darkness within; it had stood for eighty years and might stand for eighty more. within, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone of Hill House, and whatever walked there, walked alone.

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

oh lord

thinking about… height difference with Jason

An angry sigh left your lips, alerting Jason that something was about to go down.

Stomping into the living room where he was reclined on the sofa, feet up and book open. You stood at the doorway, your crossed arms and paused lips demanding attention.

“what’s wrong, princess?”

“what’s wrong? Can you stop putting everything on the top shelves?!"

Jason is almost thankful for his years training under Bruce as he holds his face neutral. Practiced poker face refusing to make way for a smile that fought to break through.

“Every time I want to grab anything, I have to scale the side of a small building because my boyfriend’s a fucking skyscraper,” You continue, getting swept away in your exaggerated rant. “How am I ever supposed to do anything for myself?! I can’t work in these conditions!”

The corner of his lips began to twitch as he set his book side during your dramatic speech. In a few long strides he makes his way over to you, towering over you he simply replies, “you’re cute when you’re mad. ”

Pout still etched into your features, you look up at him through your lashes causing him to suck in a sharp breath, god how did he ever get so lucky.

“I just wanted to bake for my man,” you sulked.

“You didn’t have to do that, sweetheart.”

“But I wanted to. Now lean down before I kick you in the shins and get you down here myself,” you reply, pawing at the collar of his shirt, pulling it to close the distance between your lips.

[nyxi-pixie]

Drop another fanfic and my life is yours

AAAAAAAAAAA HELP MEEWNFKENFKSJFIEJJWJFJEJ comicified version of my compliments 5+1 ?!?!?!??!!?! ive fallen to my knees and DIED!!!!!

im CACKLING everybody come look at these

[wisteriagoesvroom]

in the center of this room

📃 1.4k words, rated T ⚢ a lesbian!charles x lewis ficlet (with a short girl!landoscar cameo) 🏎️ for @supercollide who sent sports car as a mini song prompt 🤓 now on ao3!

p.s. so i heard y'all going crazy about the new promo pics... p.p.s. this is an AU where lewis drinks ok, just roll with it

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

“It’s not as if I don’t like her. I am just becoming… accustomed. Like many other things,” Charlie says, over the music. She tucks her bangs behind her ear, hoping it looks as nonchalant as she admittedly doesn’t feel.

“Yeah?” Lando’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. And technically Charlie has lied, as Lewis was unlike many other things. No other person has won almost eight driver championships, for that matter.

“I mean, it is not really an easy thing, you know? Changing teammates.” 

“Oh, believe me mate, I know.” 

“Well.” Charlie casts her eyes towards another corner of the room, where Oscar, with her barely touched drink and her very practical bootcut jeans, is trying very hard not to stare at them both. “It seems yours is rather…”

“Socially awkward?” Lando offers.

“I was going to say enamoured. But I don’t really think that will be an issue with Lewis.”

“What– doesn’t bat for the team?”

“Please! In this house, darling, we all bat for one thing only. And that’s Ferrari.”

Lando doesn’t look like she believes her, but then she's distracted from the topic of Lewis, because she looks over at Oscar again. Charlie’s eyes follow. For all of the Australian driver’s F1 reaction times, she is basically rendered useless in any social setting by Lando’s mere presence. Case in point, she almost drops her entire drink down her front. 

“Maybe you should go rescue her?” Charlie says. 

Lando sighs, but she doesn’t seem that cut up about it. “Be back in a bit.” 

Charlie gives a courteous nod, and watches her go – watches as Lando’s curly hair mop of hair beelines through the crowd, and Oscar perking up as Lando heads towards her. 

Just as Charlie wonders if it is written in a motorsport manual somewhere to have strange psychosexual relations with your teammate, she turns to the bartender and orders herself another apple martini. When she turns around–

“Buonasera,” Lewis says, with a downward tilt of her chin. That voice, like rich velvet. It’s Lewis, who is dressed in bright yellow, in what might be described as street couture construction chic, in the kind of clothing that Charlie could only ever aspire to wear, without being the butt of a joke. (She now feels very underdressed and uncool, even in her finest next-season Jacquemus.)

Now, Charlie is no spring chicken. People throw themselves at her all the time, the predestined child of Ferrari. And she's well aware of how the temperature changes when she walks into a room. The value of her technical skill and social capital and that gnashing, unwieldy thing that is the rosso corsa brand, bleeding and beating and alive in her palms. She is well aware of her status as a patron saint, the vaunted subject of the tifosi's hopes and dreams and hymns. She loves it, even.

And yet. To walk with Lewis is to understand anew what it is to be anointed.

Because it’s Lewis. Multiple time world champion, multi hyphenate, philanthropist, game-changer – Lewis who has herself struck down other giants to stand tall in the pantheon of greats, the same one that Charlies dreams of being one day. And knows herself to be capable of, even if the results don't show it yet.

It seems Lewis however has no such concerns about their difference in status. Instead, she smiles. “That what you’re drinking?” 

“It’s my usual!” Charlie exclaims.

“Nah. We’re doing shots. Celebrating the pre-season in style.” 

“Aren’t we supposed to be good before the season starts?”

Lewis tilts her head, and her microbraids jangle slightly with the motion. She’s had them woven through with silver and yellow stars. Charlie had tried not to stare at how beautiful she’d looked at the photoshoot they did last week. 

“I think you’ve been plenty good,” Lewis says. "Haven’t you?”

“Are you joking with me, or trying to butter me up?”

“Can’t it be both?” Lewis demurs. So maybe she has a point there.

Charlie opts to smile back cordially, instead of having a meltdown about what this all means, in the middle of a Monaco nightclub. At any rate, Lewis doesn’t wait for a response. She just flattens both palms on the bar and kind of, poses radiantly, in that Lewis-like way, one stiletto heel crossed behind an ankle, not calling for service per se but with the utter confidence that the gravity in the room will eventually tilt towards her in some way. To Lewis’s credit, this pose also makes her ass look pretty incredible. Charlie diplomatically opts not to say this part aloud.  

Meanwhile the bartender, who has made themselves scarce, materialises like a bee zooming towards a puddle of sugar water. Perfectly timed. Lewis and the bartender exchange a couple of words, and the bartender disappears, ostensibly to find the most outrageously priced organic and ethically produced liquor bottles in the entire +377 area code. 

Charlie's throat suddenly feels dry. Music shimmers in the back, switching to something with a growling bass. Lewis doesn’t shimmy, but does drum her fingers on the bar to the beat. 

“This sounds like a song I knew before,” Lewis says. “Maybe Nico played it for me.”

“I don’t think they do 2000s music here. That’s for Thursdays,” Charles says.

Lewis pins her with a stare. “Charlie. Did you just call me old?”

Charlie puts one hand on her chest. “I would never, Ms. Hamilton.”

Lewis shakes her head, and the earlier tension eases a little. 

“Do you dance?” Charlie feels the need to ask. She’s not entirely sure why she’s asking. Lewis might as well be a god. She somehow can’t picture a god dancing. Gods are meant to be observed in ancient pictures, static and unmoving, or their likeness protected behind museum glass. She is not sure which category she considers Lewis to be in right now. She is equally surprised at her own rapacious curiosity, to find out if there’s a beating heart in there after all. Some flesh and blood for her to sink her teeth into. 

(It’s not the first time she’s felled a god. But at least Seb still takes her calls.) 

For her part, Lewis laughs. “‘Course I dance. Right song, right person.”

“And am I I the right person?” Charles asks.

Lewis holds Charlie’s gaze, and the music builds again. So much Charlie feels its pulse, from the tips of her toes to the back of her calves, the gentle quake up her spine– lust and hunger notching its way into the soft and vulnerable places where she hadn’t allowed it before. Not with Lewis, at least. 

And for a moment, so quick she almost notices, Lewis’s expression changes. Mouth curling at the corners in surprise, eyes lighting up with interest, as if she has been waiting for Charlie to drive on the limit with her, too.

But quick as the moment arrives, it passes. The shots appear on a tray, and Lewis’s attention is elsewhere. Always pulled in many directions, a woman with many ambitions, and short on time. 

She picks up the pair of shot glasses, and passes one to Charlie. When she leans on the bar again, the muscles in her arms flex, and Charlie tries again not to stare.

Charlie isn’t quite sure how to proceed. So she says the first thing that comes to mind. 

“What is it that we are drinking to, then?”

“Life. Love.” Lewis shouts. She leans closer to Charlie. Lewis smells like water and cocoa butter and something oudsy. It makes Charlie a bit dizzy, but maybe it’s just the lights and her harder-than-usual run this morning. It’s not like she was getting competitive about the season already. Of course not.

“And to winning, again.” Lewis says, low and conspiratorial. “Forza Ferrari.”

Charlie says nothing. She’s heard the words before of course, a million times. But not from Lewis. Not like this. In her mouth, it takes on a new shape, a whole new meaning. It becomes a secret, and Charlie doesn't want anyone else to know it.

So Charlie nods. Gives her assent. She clinks her glass into Lewis’s, and they both tip their heads back. The music throbs in her ears now, and the alcohol burns all the way down, settling uneasily in her stomach.

Lewis wipes her mouth with a napkin that’s materialised out of nowhere. Charlie is conscious that there are people all around the periphery who are staring at them both, but strangely, Lewis is staring just at…her. As if waiting for her to say something. Make the first move, initiate the dance.  

And in the cavernous space, the neon lights, it feels like the moment before an honest conversation. Of camaraderie. Of wonderment.

It feels like the moment before a bruise. 

[morgana-ren]

Mate, if you unironically say things like 'corn' instead of porn, 'spicy time' or 'smex' instead of sex, or anything like 'unalive' on here, you're probably too young or emotionally immature to be engaging in any sort of content or conversations around those topics.

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

sigh........

Jason had a "bad" habit of calling you before he went to sleep. He couldn't help it, your voice brought a deep sense of comfort into his disturbed and haunted life.

He didn't care for the time or the fact that you could be asleep; he just needed to hear your voice and to make sure that you were safe.

He always called after his patrol, just a few hours before sunrise. He would dial your number as he made his way to the mess of pillows and blankets from the prior night. He'd huddle onto his bed, patiently waiting to hear you on the other end of the line.

When you'd answer, he'd greet you with excitement, his voice sweet and gentle as if it were doused with honey.

The quite hours of the night often laced his voice with an overwhelming amount of exhaustion. It made his voice sound deeper and huskier; his accent occasionally made an appearance during this time. His tired voice was warm and filled with immense emotion. It made him sound attractive, and you'd wish to hear it in person.

Jason always asked about your day and usually responded by humming or by asking short follow-up questions. Your voice felt melodic to him, like a ballade of a soothing song; Jason could listen to you all day.

The late-night conversations never lasted long though, Jason often fell asleep listening to your stories. You'd call out his name and wait for an answer, only to be surprised with a small snore. You'd giggle to yourself before wishing him good night.

You would stay on the line for another minute or so before finally deciding to hang up and letting your own slumber take over.

[hellcifrogs]

Guess what I am reading again!!