#Bruce doesn’t know he knows and it will stay that way

[mixingandmelting]

If it's not a bother for you, can you please write batfam (including Bruce) and superfam getting jealous when reader subtly mentions her ex when they do something similar to her ex bf. (e.g. reading a book/watching a show/an activity that her ex used to love etc.)

Thank you!!!

A/N: Hello Anon! Sorry that this was sitting in my drafts for so long... 😔 I wasn't sure if you were meaning literally everyone in both families (batboys, batgirls, Jace Fox, supergirls, superboys, etc.) which would've made this post even longer and taken more time... If there are characters not written here you specifically would like, let me know

BATFAM FEAT:

Bruce:

Everything he does is subtle. The stiffness in his muscles, the tick in his jaw. All you did was mention how the way he readjusted his Rolex around his wrist reminded you of your ex. But since when did the things he did remind you of the other guy? 

“Must be a thing.” He chuckles, the grip around on his mug tightening as he takes a sip of his coffee. 

Bits and pieces of his control over his emotions continue to chip off. There’s irritation building up from sensing nostalgia in your voice when he casually asks about your ex. Under the pretext of curiosity, of course. A scowl set on his face hidden behind a newspaper without him knowing he’s making one. It’s to the point where he fails to school his expression on time when you push down the newspaper. For a moment you stare at him, shock and awe meeting cold and stormy. 

“Playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne… is jealous?” 

His eyes widen for a second. To think he was that jealous to where he couldn’t keep up a facade…

He frowns when your lips curl up into a grin. Let’s just say the two of you made up real quickly afterwards when he suddenly pulls your wrist towards him.

Jason:

Sure, people can be reminded of their ex but come on. He reminded you of yours over how he shakes his hair out after taking off his helmet? That’s way too oddly specific.

“From what? Riding a street bike?”  He snorts, placing his helmet on the bench next to him with a thud from restrained strength. 

His mind knows there’s nothing to think too hard about; your ex is an ex and he’s currently yours. But clearly his heart doesn’t, churning and coiling with awful emotions he’s all too familiar with. He goes to grab a rag and wrench for “extra maintenance” when it’s actually him finding it hard to keep himself cool-headed if he doesn’t keep himself busy. 

“Jason? Jason. Look at me. It’s not what you’re thinking of.”  The only indication that he’s listening is the glance he tosses over his shoulder, still unamused and an eyebrow raised.

“I-,” The eyebrow raises higher from your sigh, “You just do it so naturally and still manage to make it attractive, okay? My ex had to try, forcing a Justin Bieber’s hair flip. That’s all.”

He gets you to break into laughter when he grabs you by the waist and cuddles you, grumbling how you should’ve said so from the start.

Tim:

His fingers hover over the keys for a second. Then he goes back typing. Nothing is amiss albeit the sounds of the mouse and keyboard clicking a tiny bit louder. He’s not bothered. Nope. Even if it was over how he cracked open his can of energy drink with a single hand, he’s not overthinking it whatsoever. 

“Yeah?” 

His voice stays steady, masking his questions as curiosity while in a small corner of the monitor, he’s pulling up and scrolling through the file on your ex. Net worth? Minimal. Job? Mediocre. There’s nothing about your ex sharing this habit or any other habits with him. But he considers that his fault, having brushed the other as unnoteworthy (which he does with anyone who breaks your heart). He can feel annoyance bubbling inside of him from your reminiscence with the other and his inability to pass it off as a simple talk about exes. Wait. Was this why? Because of the one time he mentioned about his past relationships?

“...Tim? Are you jealous?”

“W-what? No.” 

He flushes when he catches your unimpressed expression on the reflection of the screen. Instantly, he’s turned around, surprised to comforted when you start showering him with affection. Later on, he gives in and quit trying to get back at your ex for hurting you.

Minkhoa Khan/"Ghost-Maker":

Many had purposely brought up their exes to him before, trying to poke him for attention or gauge for a reaction. And most often he’d smirk and indulge them, finding the action as “cute”. 

But right now, his lips are set into a straight line. Constantly swirling the champagne in his flute rather than drinking it down. 

“Oh, I reminded you of your ex?” 

Lacking the feeling for empathy or fear, he’s never had found himself feeling jealous especially over an old flame of his partner. Right now? His mind is filled with irrationality and possessiveness. More than peeved for such a small thing to trigger an unneeded memory. 

He’s not one to usually filter or hold back on his opinion.  However, currently, there’s twice as much sass and bluntness as he shares his thoughts on the other in response to how fond you sounded when talking about your ex’s shared habit with him where your eyes widen from how out of character he was behaving. 

“Oh my god, you’re so jealous!” 

He refuses to give you the satisfaction, choosing to stay quiet and finish his glass. But when you don’t stop gloating, his hand slowly makes its way towards your shoulder to have you stop in a more… efficient way.

SUPERFAM FEAT:

Clark Kent:

“O-oh, really? I didn’t know your ex wore glasses…”

It’s bothering him so much. He doesn’t like it  that your ex does the same thing as him with the whole pushing up glasses if they were to slide down ever so slightly. It goes from him clasping his hands in his lap to resting them on his thighs in fists. More from him trying to stop said habit than anything else. 

Frustration and restlessness is how he gets, shuffling every few seconds so he’d at least feel comfortable on the bench he shares with you. His smile more awkward and his voice more strained. He wants to be the good boyfriend that would support you in every way: emotionally, mentally, and physically. So he tries to stay empathetic but his response stays as half-hearted caused by the ugly emotion coursing in his heart and brain. 

“Clark…? You’re not possibly jealous, are you?” 

Instantly flusters, cheeks matching his Superman suit while he denies that he is. 

“No! I’m not jealous whatsoever!” He tries to endure your stare, only to sigh and wave the white flag. “Yeah…. I actually am.” 

He lets out a grunt when you wrap your arms around him, finally breaking into a smile when you call him a silly man and that you’re stuck to him with superglue.

Conner Kent:

He stops and turns towards you, an eyebrow cocked up. 

“Uh, no. I don’t think so. This?” He flicks up the collar of his leather jacket in front you. “Is a Superboy signature move originating from yours truly.” 

So obviously your ex was copying him.  Not similar or “doing the same thing”.  But apparently, you beg to differ. He keeps brushing his hair back and fiddle with his shades, trying to suppress his irk of you continuing to push that he is similar to the other. Huffing at every point you make and rolling his eyes. 

He just doesn’t get it. Why he’s feeling this way and why he can’t act like normal. It’s not his first time hearing something like this from others, taking it in stride and joking how he’s that amazing that everyone wants to be him. But That’s not what’s happening right now. His hands are stuffed in the pockets of his jacket, toying with a can near his foot. 

“You’re jealous.”

“No???”

Jealous? Him? No. No way. He’s Superboy, why would he be jealous? Despite his denial, his face starts to resemble his pants as you accurately guess what was running through his mind. At least part of his dignity gets restored when you kiss his cheek, calling him cute to which he cheekily replies with a duh.

Kong Kenan:

The baseball lands into his hand with a satisfying plot while he’s looking at you with a confused gaze. 

“Me tossing baseballs… reminds you of your ex…” He’s careful and slowly enunciating each word, making sure he didn’t (more like he hopes) misheard you. 

He goes back tossing the baseball with pursed lips and blowing air through his nose. It’s only concern. Worry. There’s nothing that he and your ex share in common. So he’d think you wouldn’t stretch it that far about getting reminded over something mundane as tossing a baseball. 

His tosses get harder, his eyes straining from keeping them trained on the ball. He makes an effort to at least voice out that he gets it, quite literally saying exactly that as he proceeds to explain why you’re wrong E.g., he’s smarter. He’s skilled. He’s Superman-

“Kenan, you know you’re jealous. Right?”

He startles, snapping his head towards you.

“What do you mean? I’m just saying-”

Trust for it to happen as soon as he takes his eyes off, the baseball would come falling on his head.  Coiling over, he yelps then scowls with tinted cheeks. At least you comfort him in the midst of your laughter, rubbing circles on his back which releases the tension in him as you promise you have no intentions of leaving him.

[shortbcofkoffee]

CW: Cursing, child abuse via parentification

Bruce didn’t cry. He never cried. Bruce whined and sulked, but he never cried. Tim hated it when Bruce whined and sulked. He hated when Bruce acted like a kicked puppy because he had to take care of him. Tim thinks Alfred is happy he doesn’t have to do it anymore. Bruce is well into his 40s; he shouldn’t need this. Either way, Tim is closing Bruce’s bedroom door behind him and turning to the man in bed.

“Alfred wants you to come to dinner.” Tim sits on the foot of the bed, placing a hand on Bruce’s calf. The man is facing away from him, lying down but not pretending to sleep.

“I’m fine.”

Tim sucks his teeth and furrows his brow. “What’s wrong?”

Bruce shrugs and curls into himself. 

Tim purses his lips. “C’mon, chum. You can tell me.” Tim swallows and his stomach twists. He tells himself that it feels numb on his lips. He’d says he’s long past feeling gross, disgusted with himself, as he gently runs his thumb back and forth over Bruce’s calf. Bruce needs this, he reminds himself. He needs me.

“It’s nothing, I just-... It’s nothing.”

Tim frowned, Bruce wasn’t usually one to share but still. “Is it a case?” He knew Jason had mentioned one. Something about a seemingly normal family leaving their kid with the Falcones before the parents were murdered. It wasn’t the type of thing to stress Bruce out but it was the only one Tim could think of. Bruce didn’t answer. “Okay, well, you don’t need to tell me. But let's get some food in you, yeah?”

Bruce shifted but made no attempt to get up. Tim sighed.

“Alright, chum, I’ll bring dinner to you. Just wait here.” Tim patted his leg and stood up.

“Thanks, Dad,” Bruce said as Tim reached the door.

His eye twitched. “Anytime.”

When he steps out of the dark bedroom, he’s Brother Tim, the Tim the rest of the Waynes like. He makes his way to the dining room where everyone is filing in. Luckily it wasn’t everyone tonight. Just Tim, Dick, Cass, Jason, and Damian. They all sat at the table in their unofficial spots. Tim usually sat between Bruce and Dick with Cass right across from him. He eyed his seat, thinking maybe he could ask Alfred to bring the plate. He wanted to sit down and eat. Dick raised an eyebrow as Tim passed his chair.

“You’re not gonna sit down?”

Tim shook his head. “I will in a minute, Bruce isn’t coming down so I’m bringing him food.”

Jason scoffed. “Why do you need to bring it, ask Alfred.”

God, he wanted to. “Alfred does enough, I’ll do it.”

He could feel their eyes as he quickly moved past them to the kitchen. Alfred is there, garnishing a casserole. The Butler meets his eyes and frowns.

“I assume Master Bruce has elected to stay in his room?”

Tim nods. “I’m gonna fix him a plate.”

Tim thinks Alfred knows because Alfred somehow knows everything. Maybe he doesn’t know how far it’s gone, but he knows. He also needs Tim, but not for himself like everyone else. He needs Tim for Bruce. 

Alfred hums. “Master Timothy, please come here. I want to show you something.” Tim stepped closer, watching as Alfred cut a perfect square out of his casserole. “Master Bruce has a very particular way he likes to be served. You’d do well to memorize it. All foods must be separated by one-third of an inch, vegetables should be opposite the meat. He drinks milk right after his water, if he plans to sleep right after dinner crush two valium pills and mix it well into his milk. If they’re fully dissolved he won’t notice the difference.”

Tim nodded along. God, this was so final. He already knew most of this but Alfred never took the time to actually teach him. It took the butler less than a minute to finish Bruce’s plate, he placed it on a tray with two glasses of milk and water. He handed Tim the tray and sent him on his way.

Tim felt eyes on him again as he passed back through the dining room. There’s a pang of anxiety in his chest telling him they know, they know. He doesn’t know what he’d do if they did. They’d be disgusted, disgusted with Tim for going along with this for so long. They’d think he’s a freak, that somehow he enjoys this. Tim doesn’t know how he’d handle it. 

The walk to Bruce’s room was quiet, the whole manor was quiet. Tim had mixed feelings about long, quiet halls. It meant he was alone; either for the moment or months on end. It was lonely but there was a freedom in that emptiness. He didn’t have responsibilities, he could do whatever, whenever, however. No one was watching him, he didn’t need to be anyone. Tim took a deep breath in. As long as he was in this hallway, he’d be fine. Unfortunately, he was only a few yards from Bruce’s door.

He balanced the tray in one hand and opened the door with the other.

“I’m coming in, chum.”

Bruce turned over in his bed and sat up. “What did Alfred make?”

“Hamburger casserole, broccoli, and turmeric rice. If you want dessert, though, you’ll have to come downstairs.” Tim placed the tray on Bruce’s lap. “Spend time with your kids.”

Bruce stared blankly at his food. “What’s for dessert?”

“Tiramisu, I think. Your favorite.”

Bruce nodded and started to eat. 

Tim ruffled his hair, letting Bruce lean into his touch for a moment. It’s… a lot. “Come down when you’re ready.”

Tim was two steps from the door when Bruce spoke again.

“Wait. Dad…”

Tim turned around and shifted his weight onto one leg. “What’s up, bud?”

Bruce didn’t meet his eyes and poked the food. “Recently I was made aware of… a situation.”

“Uh-huh.” Tim walked back to the bed next to Bruce.

“Jason has let me know about a development in a cold case involving the Falcones.” So he was right. “There was a child involved. I found him, he’s… traumatized. He saw them kill his parents, he told me and I just- I… He doesn’t want to leave the Falcones. He told me he loved it there, they were nice to him. And I just left him. He wouldn’t come with me, he fought so much, I left him.” 

Tim pouted. “I’m sorry that happened, bud. You think you’ll go back for him?”

Bruce leaned onto Tim’s shoulder. “Jason said he’d deal with it. I just wish I did some more. I could’ve, I can, I just. It’d be encroaching on Jason’s territory. Where they’re keeping him. I should do something. I can.”

Tim wrapped an arm around Bruce’s shoulder and scratched his scalp. It felt weird, warm. Bruce had probably washed it earlier, poorly, but at least it was washed. “Yeah, Jason has been on edge with you hasn’t he?” Bruce nodded. “It’ll be alright, bud. Jason can handle this, and besides, this case could be a lot for you. I think you should sit this one out instead of beating yourself up about it.” Tim unwrapped his arm. “Okay?”

“Alright.”

“Good. I’m gonna go eat dinner, you can come down for dessert.”

Tim finally got away, slipping off the bed and out the door. When Tim steps outside the room again and walks a few feet before leaning against the wall. He pressed his forehead against the red wallpaper and placed a hand over his stomach. He doesn’t want to touch anyone ever again. His stomach is churning with that familiar weird feeling. It’d go away soon, a few minutes to a few days, but it’d go away. This wasn’t weird. This isn’t- Bruce needs this, he needs this. As long as Bruce needed him, Tim would be there. He couldn’t just abandon Bruce. His hand gripped his shirt and he took a deep breath. He was okay. Tim stood up straight and walked back to the dining room.

He slid back into his seat next to Dick and Bruce’s empty chair. Alfred already put his plate out, just how he liked. Tim looked around the table at the subtle differences on the other’s plates. He wondered if they noticed and if this would be his life from now on, learning the specific ways he needed to care for everyone. If it’s like that he’s happy only Bruce needs him. He was prepared for a few questions, it’d be weird if he didn’t get any. Bruce’s kids would be worried about him even if they hated to admit it.

“You’ve been fussing over the old man a bit much lately,” Jason started.

“I guess,” Tim shrugged as he began to eat. Had it been more than usual lately? It felt a little less frequent. 

“Is he okay?” Dick asked.

Tim frowned. “He’s upset about a case.” He nodded at Jason. “One of yours, actually. About the kid with the Falcones. He’s eating himself up because he wants to help the kid but he doesn’t want to piss you off. I told him you could handle it.”

“Thank God,” Jason huffed. “That asshole keeps straining my alliances every time he steps foot in the alley.”

“How old is the kid? We don’t need him trying to take another kid in,” Dick joked.

That seemed to satisfy the table as they all went back to eating and their individual conversations. Mainly small talk and meaningless arguments, Tim wanted to contribute but he still felt weird. He felt awful. The food didn't settle the churning in his stomach, unfortunately, the feeling was here to stay. Begrudgingly, his thoughts wandered back to Bruce. What would he need next? When? He could feel the man’s hair on his hand still. It was warm and a little greasy from product that hadn't been washed out. Tim roughly swallowed. He didn't like this feeling. He should be grateful, if it wasn't for this he wouldn't be needed here. Of course, he was CEO of Wayne Enterprises but his professional relationships weren't fulfilling enough to replace personal ones. He needed Bruce to feel useful. Bruce needed him to feel better. It wasn’t weird. It wasn’t disgusting. Tim was okay with it.

He didn't want to finish his dinner. He didn't want to be here when Bruce came down for dessert. Oh God, he’ll probably have to put him to bed if he’s still upset after dinner. He stood with his only half-empty plate and started to the kitchen. Cass grabbed the back of his shirt and tapped him twice, asking where he was going.

“Ah, I'm done eating. Wasn’t too hungry anyway.”

Cass frowned but waved him off but Dick stopped him too. 

“Hold on, Timmy, dude, you barely ate.”

“I'm not hungry,” he reiterated. “And besides, I have a meeting with some shareholders tomorrow, I need to prepare.” A lie so quick it surprised even him. “Do you want my food?”

Before Dick could answer Damian slammed a hand on the table. “Drake! Give me your vegetables!”

Tim quickly dumped his food on Damian's plate and walked to the kitchen. Alfred was still there, preparing dessert, and to Tim’s luck, it was actually Tiramisu. So now he didn’t accidentally lie to Bruce. 

“Should I throw this out or keep the leftovers?” He asked Alfred.

The old man looked between him and the plate a few times. “You only ate one thing.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Just place it on the counter, I’ll deal with it.”

Tim muttered a thanks as he did and left. Unfortunately, always unfortunate for Tim Drake-Wayne, Bruce was there. Smiling at his kids, carrying his tray to the kitchen. Tim didn’t have to look closely at Bruce anymore. Every line crinkle was there whether he liked it or not. He could read Bruce’s face better than anyone he knew and he hated it. Bruce’s smile faltered a little when he was Tim but no one seemed to notice. It wasn’t weird , he reminded himself. He brushed past Tim with a “hey.” The interaction was short and impersonal but it didn’t make the feeling go away. Tim left the dining room. Bruce would probably go to the cave tonight, to look over whatever he’s working on. By tomorrow morning only Dick would be back in Bludhaven and Cass and Jason would be back at their apartments. Tim hoped he wouldn’t have to scold Bruce for staying up too late. 

Tim’s lungs felt light like the air was barely tickling them. He wanted to sleep, he’d set an alarm for three and if Bruce was still up he’d drag him to bed. Soon enough he was in a quiet hallway again. Just alone with no one watching. He jumped as high as possible, fingers barely touching the high ceiling. Tim liked being alone for these small bits of time when he felt like this. It gave him just a little release when he did little things with no one else around. He jumped again. He wants to go on patrol. He wants to jump from building to building and breathe in the night air. He should do it soon, tomorrow maybe.

Tim reached his room, set his alarm for three, and let himself relax into his pillow. Bruce has been better lately, this case was gonna be a huge setback, especially if it involved Jason. Tim hated to say it because it wasn’t true but every problem he had with Bruce was because of Jason. Tim knew it wasn’t fair to blame him, he had no stake in how Bruce would mourn him, but if he never died in the first place… That was so unfair. It made Tim feel disgusting for even thinking that. Bruce wasn’t entirely to blame either, no one is how they mourn. Tim took the role of caretaker quickly and easily, it was a lot, especially for a thirteen-year-old, but Tim could take it. Tim could take everything. He did and will.

Tim didn't know when he fell asleep or if he had a dream but the alarm clock on his bedside table was screaming. Tim groggily rolled over and hit it off. If Bruce wasn't in the cave Tim could go back to sleep sooner. If he was, Tim would have to drag him to bed. Bruce needed as much sleep as possible, the holidays were coming up and that always put Batman on overtime. Tim got out of bed and dragged himself over to Bruce’s room, but of course, he wasn't there. Tim groaned, dragging a hand down his face. He found his way down to the cave and followed the sound of typing to the Batcomputer. 

“It's late.” Tim came up behind Bruce.

“I'm working.”

“And you'll have time to work tomorrow. The sooner you sleep, the sooner you wake up.” He put a hand on Bruce’s shoulder. “C'mon let's get you to bed.” 

Bruce made no effort to move and Tim leaned on his shoulder. 

“I’ll go to bed soon.”

Tim pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Listen, bud, I’m not going to sleep until you do. And I’m tired.”

“No one is asking you to do that.”

“I know you’re tired too. You’re not at your best when you’re tired, you could slip up and miss something.”

“I won’t. I slept yesterday, I’ll be fine.”

Fair, Bruce could easily stay awake for three to four days without shutting down. Unfortunately, with the aforementioned holidays, sleep would be few and far between. “Yeah, well I’m not asking. We’re going to bed.” Tim looked up at the screen. “What are you even working on?”

“I told you. The case with the Falcone kid. I haven’t updated the report yet.”

“I thought I told you to let Jason deal with it.”

“I can help.”

“He doesn’t want your help.” 

Bruce paused his typing for a moment before resuming. “Did he tell you that?”

“I told him that I told you to let him deal with it. He didn’t thank me but he was appreciative.” Tim pulled away from Bruce’s shoulder making the man twitch. “Besides, I don’t want you working this case. It won’t be good for you.”

Bruce just grunted, an unintelligible one that meant he was acknowledging but ultimately ignoring you. It’s like a toddler throwing a quiet tantrum.

“You know I’m right. C’mon, chum, let’s go to bed,” he tried again. The man didn’t answer. “Okay?” He said with more force. Bruce silently saved the report he was working on and logged off. “Thank you. See that wasn’t so hard.”

“Sorry, Dad,” Bruce grumbled. 

“Mm-hm.” Tim held out a hand and pulled Bruce from his chair.

Bruce held onto his hand as they started to walk, he seemed like he needed it. He didn’t let go until they were halfway to his room. Bruce, for someone who craved it so much, hated physical affection. He only accepted it from certain people. Alfred was one since he raised him practically by himself. His kids, obviously, he’d never turn down a hug from one of them, he actually hoped for it. Though Tim had never personally seen it, according to others Bruce didn’t seem to mind being touched by Clark Kent. Lastly, there was Tim. Tim was the only person Bruce reached out to first for affection. Usually just a hand on his shoulder or arm but sometimes Bruce wanted a hug or a hand to hold. It was always over quicker than it happened when Bruce acted first. 

Once he got Bruce to his room it was 3:14. He could still get a good amount of sleep and still be good in the morning. He yawned as he walked the dark halls back to his room. Sleep would be good, Bruce was exhausting. TIm just wanted to melt into his pillow and disappear forever. Tim jumped, almost yelped as he turned a corner and came face to face with a mop of white and black hair. Jason stared at him quietlywith his jaw locked in anger. Neither of them spoke but Jason nodded in the direction of the library. Jason was here, why was he here? Tim hadn’t noticed him come in so it must’ve been when he was dealing with Bruce. 

Oh, God, had he seen him with Bruce? The seeing wasn’t the hard part Tim knew how to lie and deflect. He could say that he asked Bruce to hold hands. It wouldn’t explain why it looked like he was guiding Bruce but it was a start. The hearing was the bad part. If Jason had heard the end of their conversation Tim doesn’t know. An inside joke maybe? That was the only thing Tim could think of at the moment. He bit his lip nervously. The disgusting feeling was back. His hands and feet felt heavy. Tim was tired, he just wanted to sleep.

“Why are you here?” He asked nervously.

“Left my commlink in the cave. Came back to get it,” Jason said.

“Ah.”

So he was in the cave. When they entered the library Jason sat down in one of the lounge chairs and motioned for Tim to sit across from him.

“The fuck was that?” Jason started.

“What was what?”

Jason leaned forward and sighed. “Okay. Are you… okay?” He asked through gritted teeth.

The question felt weird coming from Jason. “Fine. Why?”

“I heard you talking to Bruce.”

Tim is pretty sure all the color left in his face drains. He’s pretty sure Jason noticed it too. “Oh.”

“So are you okay?”

Tim pinched his fingertip with the opposite hand. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just- just forget what you heard, okay? It’s nothing weird, just an inside joke, y’know?” Tim feels a little stupid for deflecting immediately. He could’ve played it off better, but the mental exhaustion was getting to him.

“It didn’t sound like a joke.”

Tim pinched harder, sinking his nails into his skin. “Then you misread the situation.”

Jason leaned back, splaying his arms over the back of the chair. “Alright humor me. What’s the joke then.”

“If I explained it it wouldn’t be very “inside” anymore. It’s private.”

“Kay, so how long have you and him had this private “joke.””

Tim grimaced. “Don’t make it weird.”

“I’m not. Just answer.”

Tim scoffed. “Why do you care? It’s a joke me and Bruce have, that’s it.”

“Why do I-?! Why do I care?! You know I kill abusers?”

Tim took a deep breath in and rolled his eyes. “Don’t call it abuse just because you think it’s weird. I get it, you don’t buy the joke thing but that’s all it is.”

Jason was quiet for a moment before his eyes widened. “Oh my God, is that why he listens to you? Because you have this dad thing going on?”

Tim’s stomach churned. God, he wanted to throw up. He wanted to run away and hide under his cover until this was all over. “Nothing’s going on, leave it alone.”

“Listen, I’m trying to help you.”

Jason? Help Tim? When he was the reason for this in the first place? Tim couldn’t help but smile at the irony. “Yeah right. I don’t need any help, it’s fine. If it makes you feel better, I started it, not Bruce.”

“So, what, you started calling Bruce “ chum” and shit.” Tim almost gagged. “And he just went along with it?”

“It’s complicated, okay? Bruce needs someone to deal with him.”

“Why not Alfred? That’s literally his job.”

“It’s different-”

“Is it? Alfred’s practically raised him and I don’t see Bruce calling him dad.”

“It’s different,” Tim repeated. “You weren’t there, you don’t know.”

“Okay then explain it. I’ve got all night.”

Tim clenched his jaw and glared at Jason. “I’m going to bed.” He started to stand but a throwing knife stuck into the bookshelf behind him, barely missing his head.

“Sit. Explain.”

Tim sat back down. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

“When did this start?”

“Four or five years ago.”

Jason hummed. “That’s what you meant by I wasn’t there. Alright then, why is he calling you dad?”

That one was loaded. Tim wasn’t a psychic, he couldn’t read Bruce’s mind. He only had his best guess. “He likes to be parented. Talking to him like he’s a teenager sometimes helps when you need him to do something. Like shower or eat.”

“So… you act like his dad because he’s an overgrown teenager.”

“No. He only acts like that when he’s depressed, or stressed, or wasted.”

“Bruce doesn’t drink.”

“Not when you guys are around. He used to drink himself stupid after you died. That’s also why it’s me and not Alfred. Alfred was grieving too, Bruce wasn’t something he needed to deal with.” 

“So you took Alfred’s place.”

“Only when he needed it.”

“But it never stopped. You’re still doing this weird shit just to make him feel better.”

“He still needs me. I can’t abandon him.” Tim shifted uncomfortably.

“Tim, you’re 17, Bruce isn’t your responsibility.”

“He is. I need to take care of him. You don’t understand, you don’t get how bad he needs me.”

“You’re right, I don’t. He’s grown, he doesn’t need you.”

“Well he does, okay? And I’ll do it until he stops needing me.”

“Do you think of him as your son?”

Tim was silent. He didn’t like to, it made him feel gross to say it so he’d never actually verbalized it before. “It… can make it easier.”

Jason shook his head. “I don’t get you. Both of you know how fucked up this is, you kept it a secret this whole time. You’re clearly feeling shitty about it, you just never said anything. He’s not threatening you, is he?”

“He’s not threatening me, I just… He needs me. That’s all there is to it.” Tim was tired. He wanted to go to bed. “We didn’t tell anyone because we knew you would react like this. You’d think it was weird.”

“It is.”

“You’re not even making an effort to understand. You don’t get it.”

“Oh, believe me, I get it. I get all there is to get. Tim, I’m sure you know this, but I don’t like you. I think you’re a stain and you never should’ve been Robin. But I’m on your side, I’m trying to help you . Because I’m supposed to protect people like you.”

“I’m not a victim, Red Hood, I’m telling you, I’m just taking care of him.”

“You don’t need to.”

“We’re talking in circles. It’s fine if you don’t get it, just don’t tell anyone and keep it alone. Me and Bruce are fine, this has worked for years. If I left Bruce wouldn’t be able to pick himself up again. I can take care of him as long as he needs me.”

“Do you want to?”

Tim rubbed his arm. He didn’t, he liked feeling needed but he didn’t want to do this. But that’s how it was, it was how Bruce needed him. Since he couldn’t, he wouldn’t change a thing. “Yeah.” He felt disgusting.

Jason raised his hands in surrender. “Then I’ll leave it alone. But if I find out something I don’t like, I’ll act. Trust me, I will.”

Tim finally pushed himself out of the chair. “Thank you. I’m going to bed, it’s late.”

Jason stayed behind in the library leaving Tim alone in the long dark hallway. He was alone again, he exhaled a breath he didn’t know he was holding before his chest sank again. Oh God, someone knew. Jason knew, probably the last person Tim wanted to know. Jason had called Bruce an abuser and threatened to kill him. That’s the last thing Tim needed. He wanted to sleep, he should sleep.

.

Read the rest here and read the fic that inspired it here

[atlasthegreatest]

Trèfle à Quatre Feuilles/ Cassandra Cain, Laura Kinney, Cindy Moon x Male Reader

Headcanons about Cassandra, Laura, and Cindy being in a relationship with the unluckiest lucky man in the world.

A/n: This was requested by @earthboundguythatlikesmother1 hope you like this. And sorry for the long wait.

Cassandra Cain



— How did they meet? —

It was one of those brutal Gotham nights where things just spiraled out of control. Cassandra had taken down a gang in a warehouse, but not without sustaining a nasty stab wound to her side. Refusing to involve Bruce or Alfred, she slipped away to avoid being tracked back to the Batcave.

Y/n was finishing up a long shift when he decided to stop by a small diner for some late-night coffee. Cassandra in her batgirl suit stumbled into the alley next to the diner, trying to catch her breath. She hadn’t expected anyone to be there, but Y/n heard the faint sound of her staggered steps and immediately rushed over to check.

Cassandra was defensive at first, wary of the man’s intentions. She didn’t want help—she was trained to take care of herself. But when Y/n introduced himself as a paramedic and calmly explained he was just there to help, she hesitated. There was something about the sincerity in his eyes that made her pause.

Without asking too many questions, Y/n quickly assessed her wound and patched her up with supplies he had on hand. Despite her stoicism, Y/n could tell she was in pain. He cracked a quiet joke about how Gotham’s nightlife wasn’t all it was hyped up to be, and Cassandra gave him the faintest hint of a smile.

Once she was stable, Cassandra thanked him quietly and disappeared before he could ask for her name. Y/n chalked it up to just another strange Gotham encounter.

A week later, Cassandra spotted Y/n again—this time in the middle of chaos. A fight between Batgirl and a villain had spilled into the streets, and Y/n was one of the unlucky bystanders caught in the fray. Except, true to his weird luck, everything that could have hurt him either missed by inches or was deflected by sheer coincidence.

After the fight, she approached the man to make sure he was okay. Y/n recognized her instantly as the woman he’d helped, even in her Batgirl suit. Y/n couldn’t help but tease her a little: “Hey, you’re a lot better at taking punches than you are at avoiding stab wounds.”

Intrigued by the man’s ability to stay alive in Gotham’s chaos and impressed by his calm demeanor, Cassandra began to keep an eye on him. At first, it was to ensure he didn’t get hurt, but over time, she found herself wanting to know more about him.

— How did their relationship develop from strangers to more? —

Whether it’s coincidence or her silently protecting him, Y/n keeps running into Cassandra during her patrols. Each time, he strike up a conversation, trying to get her to talk more. Slowly but surely, Y/n earns her trust.

Cassandra eventually starts visiting him after tough nights. Y/n offered her a place to rest, patched her up when needed, and always treated her with kindness and patience. He doesn’t push her to talk about her past or her work, but he makes it clear she’s always welcome.

It took months, but Cassandra finally felt comfortable enough to meet Y/n outside of her Batgirl persona. She showed up in civilian clothes, nervous but determined. Y/n, of course, greeted her with the same easygoing smile and suggested grabbing coffee.

— How is their dynamic as a couple? —

On paper, Y/n and Cassandra don’t make sense. Y/n’s just a normal guy in a world of capes and criminals, and Cassandra’s one of the most dangerous fighters in Gotham. But in reality? They make each other feel safe in a way that no one else can.

The protective one x The “it’s fine” one trope.

Cassandra is hyper-aware of danger. She sees threats before they happen and constantly watches Y/n’s movements, trying to anticipate where he might need protection.

Y/n, on the other hand, is the human embodiment of “Don’t worry, it’ll work out.” And annoyingly… he’s always right.

Cassandra once tried to train Y/n in basic self-defense, but halfway through, a pigeon randomly flew into the training mat, distracting her long enough for Y/n to dodge one of her attacks. “See? I’m fine,” he grinned. She just stared.

Neither of them is overly wordy when it comes to love. Cassandra struggles with verbal expression and Y/n? He believes actions speak louder than words.

Y/n’s way of saying “I love you” is patching Cassandra up after missions, making sure she eats properly, and leaving little notes in her gear with reminders like “Don’t forget you’re amazing.”

Cassandra’s way of saying “I love you” is leaning against Y/n while they watch TV, bringing him coffee during long shifts, and quietly fixing his collar before he leaves for work.

At first, Cassandra was deeply confused by how Y/n always survive situations that should at least leave him injured. Whether it’s a collapsing building, a stray bullet, or a villainous ambush—somehow, he always come out of it without a scratch.

“You should be dead,” she says blankly after Y/n walks out of a burning building holding someone’s pet cat. Y/n just shrug and say, “I guess it wasn’t my time.”

Y/n’s just a guy who loves Cassandra.

Despite the insanity of Gotham, all Y/n really wants to do is be a good paramedic and support Cassandra. Y/n knows she struggles with emotions and words sometimes, so he makes sure to show her love through actions—bringing her food, patching her up, and just sitting in comfortable silence when she needs it.

— How does everyone react to Y/n's “luck”?—

Y/n’s luck baffles the entire Bat-Family.

Bruce runs tests. Tim investigates. Barbara tries to analyze his movements. Damian assumes he’s some ancient being with hidden abilities.

But no. Y/n was just lucky.

Cassandra still instinctively tries to protect Y/n—standing between him and danger, keeping him out of crime scenes—but somehow, Y/n always end up saving someone while dodging death himself.

One time, she tries to push him out of the way of a falling streetlight, only for Y/n to trip, dodge it, and land perfectly on a mattress someone dumped on the sidewalk.

“…Did you plan that?” she asked. “Nope. But that was convenient,” Y/n replied.

Gotham’s villains thinks he’s cursed.

The Rogues Gallery is deeply unsettled by Y/n. Joker tries to throw him into a death trap? The mechanism jams. Scarecrow douses him in fear toxin? Y/n sneezes at the exact right moment and miss the full dose.

Even Ra’s al Ghul is unnerved. “This man… he cannot be just a man,” he mutters.

One time, Y/n gets knocked out during a hostage situation. Cassandra panics, thinking this is it—only for the ceiling to collapse exactly on the bad guys while leaving him completely fine.

In the end Y/n wake up dazed, looking at Cass’s worried face. “Did we win?”

“…Yes.”

Y/n had accepted that things just… work out for him. But Cassandra? She doesn’t trust luck. She trusts skill, and she worries that one day, Y/n’s luck might run out.

“You’re not invincible,” she reminds him.

“I know,” Y/n say, wrapping an arm around her.

Y/n’s luck rubs off on others (sometimes).

It’s weird. When people stick around Y/n, they also seem to avoid disaster. Cassandra finds herself dodging things she didn’t see coming, and even Jason once grumbled about how Y/n saved him from getting shot—purely because he tripped and accidentally knocked him out of the way.

“I don’t like this,” Jason mutters. “It’s unnatural.”

“Hey, I work in emergency response. I’m basically a professional at avoiding death,” Y/n jokes.

Bonus Headcanons:

Dick: “Okay, but what do you do when something bad happens?”

Y/n: “I just… move?”

Dick: *Squints*

Barbara: Low-key worried Cassandra is dating some kind of cosmic glitch but sees how happy Y/n makes her and approves.

Damian: Highly suspicious. He’s tried to throw things at Y/n to “test” his reflexes, only for a strong breeze to blow them off course.

Bruce: Ran so many background checks on Y/n. Eventually, he just had to accept he was just a normal dude with abnormal luck.

When Y/n cooks, he always guess the perfect amount of seasoning—even without measuring.

That on-time Cassandra and Y/n ran into Bruce Wayne at a restaurant? Y/n just happened to have saved the life of one of his board members earlier that day, so their meal was covered.

When Cassandra forgets to grab an umbrella? Surprise, Y/n randomly found one on the street right before it rained.

There was one time when Y/n’s luck nearly gave Cassandra a heart attack. Y/n fell off a rooftop (long story, blame Gotham), and she thought for sure this was the end—only for him to land in a pile of mattresses that had been thrown out earlier that day.

Cassandra was not amused. She didn’t let go of Y/n for a solid five minutes.

After that, she started keeping an arm around Y/n whenever they walked near ledges.

Laura Kinney

— How did they meet? —

It all started with a dog fight.

Laura had been tracking down a group running illegal underground animal fights. When she finally found their hideout, she did not hold back. By the time she was done, the whole operation was shut down, and every animal was freed.

But one dog—a battered, half-starved pit bull—refused to leave her side.

Laura didn’t know what to do with the dog. She wasn’t exactly an animal person, but something about this one made her hesitate.

She had no idea where to take it, so she just walked into the nearest veterinary clinic—which happened to be the clinic owned by Y/n.

Y/n took one look at the beaten-up dog, then at the bloodstained (but completely uninjured) woman holding it, and sighed.

“Rough night?” The man asked, already grabbing medical supplies.

“Not for me,” Laura replied, setting the dog down carefully.

Laura was fully expecting the man to be scared or suspicious. After all, most people took one look at her and knew she wasn’t normal.

But that man? He didn’t ask how the dog got hurt. He didn’t even flinch at the blood on her clothes. He just focused on helping.

When Y/n finished patching up the dog, he handed Laura a water bottle. “You okay?”

The mutant blinked, caught off guard. “I wasn’t in the fight.”

“Didn’t ask if you were,” Y/n said simply.

The dog became the first excuse Laura used to see Y/n again.

Laura didn’t plan on coming back, but the dog needed check-ups… and she didn’t trust just anyone with it.

Y/n, meanwhile, had started mentally labeling her as a mysterious badass with a soft spot for animals.

Over time, Laura started lingering a little longer after appointments. Watching Y/n work. Listening to how he talked to animals like they were people.

Y/n noticed, of course. “You’re welcome to stick around,” he told her once. “Though I’d appreciate a name to go with the brooding presence.”

“Laura.”

“Cool. I’m Y/n.” Y/n extended his hand, but Laura just stared at it. The man shrugged and went back to work.

— When did their relationship develop from strangers to more?—

One night, Laura was walking past Y/n’s clinic when she saw a robbery in progress. A guy had a gun on Y/n, demanding money.

Before Laura could even react, the guy tripped over absolutely nothing and knocked himself out on the counter.

Y/n blinked, looking down at him. “Huh.”

Laura, still hidden in the shadows, just stared.

When Y/n noticed her watching, he waved. “Hey, Laura. You’re here for a late-night check-up?”

She stepped into the light, eyes narrowing. “How did you—?”

“Oh, the robber? Bad luck, I guess.” Y/n grinned. “Or really, really good luck on my part.”

After that night, Laura started dropping by more often. Not just for the dog, but to observe Y/n.

Y/n was just… so normal. But at the same time, completely unaffected by the craziness around him.

“You live in a world of mutants, monsters, and super-soldiers,” she said one day, watching Y/n bandage a cat’s paw. “How are you still alive?”

The man shrugged. “Maybe I’m just lucky.”

“That’s not a real thing.”

“Tell that to the guy who tripped and knocked himself out.”

One night, Y/n found Laura waiting outside the clinic after his shift.

“You okay?” he asked.

“You should lock your doors,” the mutant said instead of answering.

“I do.”

“Not well enough.” She handed Y/n a brand-new, heavy-duty lock and security system.

The man raised an eyebrow. “Laura, are you… protecting me?”

She crossed her arms. “You’re bad at it.”

Y/n smiled. “That’s sweet.”

“It’s not.”

“It definitely is.”

(She didn’t argue, but her ears were a little red.)

— How did they start dating? —

They started going on “not-dates” (Laura’s words). Coffee after work. Walks with the dog. Laura stopped by just to “check on things.”

One day, Y/n was treating a bird with a broken wing when he muttered, “Man, I wish I had your healing factor.”

Laura, watching the man from the corner, casually said, “I’d give it to you if I could.”

Y/n paused. “That might be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

The mutant went silent for a long moment before quietly saying, “That wasn’t… a joke.”

That’s when it hit Y/n—Laura Kinney, the unstoppable X-23, actually cared about him.

Y/n just smiled. “Well, I don’t need a healing factor. I’ve got my luck.”

The mutant rolled her eyes. But she also didn’t correct him.

The X-Men didn’t get it. Logan pretended he hated it (but secretly approved). Deadpool was obsessed with Y/n’s luck.

But to Y/n? Dating Laura felt natural. Like the universe had somehow balanced things out.

Y/n wasn’t strong like her. He wasn’t a fighter. But he was steady, reliable, and unfazed by the chaos around him.

And Laura, for the first time in her life, found someone who made her feel safe. Even if she still refused to believe in luck.

— How is their dynamic as a couple? —

The protective one x The “I’ll be fine” one trope (once again).

Laura is hyper-vigilant. If someone so much as looks at Y/n wrong, she’s already sizing them up. Laura is always ready to fight for Y/n. Someone looks at him wrong? She’s already sizing them up. A villain attacks? She’s got her claws out before Y/n can blink.

The problem? Y/n literally never gets hurt. He once walked straight through a fight between two mutant mercenaries, completely unharmed.

“You can’t just walk through danger like that,” Laura grumbled afterward.

“Why not? It worked,” he said, completely serious.

Laura just stared at Y/n like he was an unsolvable puzzle.

Laura doesn't know how to handle Y/n’s luck.

She doesn’t trust luck. At all. Life has never been kind to her, so she relies on skill, instincts, and planning.

Y/n? Y/n just roll with whatever happens.

One time, a car nearly hit him, but then the tire randomly blew out at the last second.

“How,” Laura muttered under her breath.

“No idea,” the man grinned. “Kinda fun, right?” the woman just squinted at him.

Laura isn’t big on words, and Y/n’s not a dramatic romantic.

Their love is shown in small, everyday gestures.

Y/n makes sure Laura eats properly. Laura fixes Y/n’s collar before he leaves for work. Y/n patches her up after missions, even though she heals in seconds. And Laura checks his clinic’s security every single night without telling him.

Laura is used to taking lives. Y/n, on the other hand, spends every day saving them. That contrast calms her. She likes watching Y/n work and seeing his gentle approach to life.

“You could’ve been a doctor,” she comments one night.

The man shrugs. “Animals are nicer.”

Laura considers that for a second. “Yeah. They are.”

— How does everyone react to Y/n's “luck”? —

Villains have given up on using Y/n as a hostage.

Someone tried once. Big mistake.

Before Laura could even rescue Y/n, the villain slipped on a spilled drink, fell into some exposed wiring, and electrocuted themselves unconscious.

“…You did that on purpose.” “I swear, I didn’t.”

Now, criminals actively avoid kidnapping Y/n. He now has a reputation.

Logan doesn’t trust Y/n at first. “A normal guy? No powers? Dating Laura? In this world?” But when he sees how Y/n keeps dodging death like a cartoon character, he just gives up trying to understand it.

Beast has run every test possible on Y/n. “There must be some scientific explanation.” Nope. Y/n was just that lucky.

Deadpool thinks Y/n’s some kind of “cosmic joke” and fully supports it. He once followed Y/n around for a day just to watch his luck in action. “This is better than TV,” he muttered as Y/n dodged another explosion without even noticing.

Laura does not trust luck. She trusts skill, instincts, and brute force. The fact that Y/n doesn’t have any of those and still survives stresses her out.

“Luck isn’t real,” she grumbles after Y/n casually avoids a Sentinel attack because he stopped to pet a stray dog.

“Maybe not,” Y/n reply, scratching the dog’s ears. “But if it is, I think it likes me.”

Gambit is a gambler. The moment he realizes Y/n’s luck is real, he starts taking Y/n to poker games.

“Mon ami, just sit next to me. I don't even need ya to play.”

Y/n doesn’t even gamble, but somehow everyone else at the table starts losing except Gambit. (He splits the winnings with Y/n, of course.)

Bonus Headcanons:

Logan does not like most people around Laura. But Y/n? He’s not a threat, and he makes her happy.

He’ll still act gruff. “If you hurt her, bub, I’ll gut ya.”

“Fair enough,” Y/n replies cheerfully.

He once saw Y/n walk through an explosion without a scratch and just muttered, “This guy ain’t normal.”

But he’ll never admit that he likes Y/n. He just tolerates the guy very enthusiastically.

Laura doesn’t do traditional romance, but she’ll casually lean against Y/n while he works. That’s her version of cuddling.

Y/n’s fridge is always stocked with protein bars because she eats like a wild animal.

Y/n has so many animals around him, and at first, Laura acted like she didn’t care… but then Y/n caught her secretly naming the clinic’s strays.

“Laura… did you name this stray cat ‘Murderclaws’?���

Silence. Then: “…It fits.”

Y/n got caught in a building collapse once. Laura saw him go under.

For a solid minute, she thought he was actually gone. Then, Y/n casually climbed out of the rubble, completely fine.

She didn’t say a word—just walked up and hugged him tight.

“Okay,” Y/n said after a moment. “I take it that was a close one?”

“I hate you,” she muttered. But she didn’t let go.

Y/n’s luck even works on animals.

Vicious dog? Loves him.

Angry stray cat? Purring in his lap.

A literal rampaging mutant bear? Somehow, it calms down when Y/n talks to it.

Laura, covered in blood and scratches from trying to take the bear down: “What the—how did you—”

Y/n, petting the bear: “I dunno. I just have a calming presence?”

Cindy Moon

— How did they meet? —

It all started with one lucky shot.

The Daily Mail wanted exclusive photos of Silk, the new web-slinging hero in town.

Y/n’s boss— J. Jonah Jameson— sent him out to get ANY shot of her in action.

“She’s fast, hard to track, and doesn’t stick around. Just get something we can use.”

Y/n figured, why not?

Cindy was mid-fight with some low-level criminals when Y/n randomly snapped a photo.

The shot? Flawless. Perfect lighting. Dramatic action pose. Background blur just right.

Y/n wasn’t even trying that hard. He just happened to be in the right place at the right time.

J. Jonah Jameson went nuts over it.

“HOW DID YOU GET THIS?!”

“Uhh… just lucky, I guess?”

Cindy noticed him. And when she saw the front page article with her as Silk, she thought: “How the hell did someone get that shot??”

She started keeping an eye on Y/n, convinced he was either: A secret agent. A private investigator or some kind of meta-human.

Cindy then decided to test him.

Cindy (as Silk) set up a fake crime scene—just some staged webbing on a rooftop to see if Y/n “just happen” to be there.

Y/n was walking home from work… and somehow stumbled onto the exact rooftop she was watching.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Cindy muttered under her breath.

Meanwhile, Y/n just looked around like, “Huh, a weird place for a crime scene.”

Cindy finally dropped down in front of the man and asked straight up: “Who do you work for?”

Y/n just blinked. “Uh… the Daily Mail?”

Y/n explained that he was just a photographer, trying to get good shots.

Cindy stared at him, processing.

“So… you’re not a spy?”

“No?”

“Not secretly a mutant?”

“Nope.”

“Not working for some shady organization?”

“I mean, the Daily Mail is kinda shady sometimes, but nah.”

Cindy kept running into Y/n (completely by accident).

No matter where she was—swinging through the city, fighting crime, grabbing coffee—Y/n was always there.

Not stalking. Not searching. Just existing in the exact right place, every time.

One day, Y/n was at a coffee shop, reading his new camera manual. Cindy (out of costume) sat next to him without realizing it.

When they both noticed each other, she blurted out: “Are you a glitch in the Matrix??”

Y/n laughed and said, “I think I’m just really, really lucky.”

That was the moment Cindy realized: Oh crap. I like this guy.

— How did their relationship develop from strangers to more? —

Cindy asking Y/n out in the most awkward way possible.

She tried to be casual. She failed.

“Hey, so, like, you’re funny and stuff. And not a spy. And, um… do you like food?”

Y/n blinked. “Yeah?”

“Cool. You should eat food. With me. Sometime. Or now.”

Y/n grinned. “Are you asking me out?”

Cindy froze. Then blurted: “MAYBE.”

Y/n just chuckled. “Alright. Let’s go get some food.”

They started dating. Cindy pretended not to be into Y/n at first, but everyone could tell she was.

“I mean, he’s just some guy.”

“Cindy, you literally watch him like a hawk.”

The fact that Y/n kept surviving ridiculous situations only made her fall for him harder.

— How is their dynamic as a couple? —

Cindy acts first, thinks later.

Y/n goes with the flow but somehow always ends up in the right place at the right time.

If a fight breaks out? Cindy is already swinging into action, while Y/n just steps to the side and avoids an explosion without noticing.

Cindy: “You should be panicking right now!”

You: “Eh, I had a feeling I’d be fine.”

She’s so stressed, but she loves that Y/n is the calm to her storm.

Cindy worries about Y/n constantly.

But no matter what happens, Y/n always survive unscathed.

“Babe, stay behind me!”

“I think I’ll be fine.”

Five seconds later, a random lamppost falls and blocks an attack heading for Y/n.

Cindy: ”…I hate you.”

Y/n: “Nah, you love me.”

She has danger-sense, super agility, and reflexes—and she still takes hits sometimes.

Meanwhile, Y/n walked through crossfire, explosions, and falling debris without a scratch.

“I train every day to survive fights. What is your excuse?”

“Just vibes.”

Cindy once made Y/n wear protective gear on a date. It somehow got damaged, but he was completely fine.

“I give up,” she mutters as Y/n sips his coffee.

Cindy has major anxiety and trust issues from being locked in a bunker for years.

Y/n reminds her to breathe, take breaks, and enjoy life.

Cindy pretends she’s the cool one in the relationship.

But the moment Y/n’s not around, she’s like: “Has anyone seen my boyfriend?”

“Cindy, it’s been five minutes.”

She loves how easygoing and funny Y/n is, but she will never say it to his face. (Until she’s half-asleep and mumbles, “You’re my favorite person.”).

— How does everyone react to Y/n's “luck”? —

Cindy is incredibly protective of the people she cares about.

Y/n? He just keeps walking through life unscathed, and it drives her nuts.

“I swear if you get crushed by a collapsing building—”

“Babe, I won’t.”

The building collapses. Y/n stepped to the side at the exact right moment.

Cindy just squints at Y/n. “This is NOT NORMAL.”

“Neither is web-slinging, but here we are.”

Spider-Man thinks it’s hilarious.

“Bro, I have Spidey-Sense and I still get hit. How do you do it?”

“No clue, man. Just vibes.”

Black Cat desperately wants to steal Y/n’s luck.

“Are you sure you don’t have powers? No magical artifact? No deals with demons?”

“Nope. Just a guy with a camera and a dream.”

Someone tried taking Y/n into hostage once.

Before Cindy could even come to the rescue, the villain accidentally knocked himself out trying to tie him up.

Another time, Y/n was trapped in a burning building… but then a freak rainstorm put the fire out.

At this point, villains actively avoid Y/n because something always goes wrong for them.

J. Jonah Jameson doesn’t know how Y/n does it.

“How do you ALWAYS get the perfect shot? Do you have a sixth sense?”

“Nope. Just good timing.”

Bonus Headcanons:

Cindy forgets to eat a lot, so Y/n always make sure she has food.

“Babe, have you eaten today?”

“Uhhh—”

“That’s a no.” Y/n hands her a sandwich.

Y/n has so many photos of Cindy (both as Silk and just as herself).

She acts embarrassed but secretly loves them.

“You make me look cool.”

“You are cool.”

Cindy keeps trying to test Y/n’s luck.

She throws things at Y/n just to see if he’ll avoid them.

Y/n always accidentally dodges at the last second.

One time, she tried to catch him off guard by webbing his foot mid-walk.

Y/n tripped—but landed on a discarded mattress on the street.

Cindy just stared at him. “That. Should. Not. Have. Happened.”

Y/n shrugged. “Maybe the universe just really likes me.”

Cindy has been through so much trauma. She’s used to losing people.

But Y/n? He always comes back, no matter what happens.

And even though she teases Y/n about his luck, she’s grateful for it.

Because, for once, she doesn’t have to be afraid of losing someone she loves.

“Hey, Cindy?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I might actually be the luckiest guy in the world.”

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Shut up and kiss me, Lucky Boy.”

[flwrkid14]

I was reading the two posts about Tim's Christmas list, and just thought of the Bat Family noticing how happy Tim is.

Maybe Damian sees the new brushes and asks why Tim has Stephanie's things?

"Oh no, those aren't her's. They're mine. Danny got them for me cause they were on my list. I've needed a new set for a few years, but I only remember when I'm on a mission and needs to use them. Isn't he so sweet? And he got me really good quality ones, too!"

Or Jason mocking Tim for finally getting new hoodies. And instead of huffing or quipping back, Tim just brightens. Smiling in a way Jason's never seen.

"Danny got them for me! They're so soft. There's some of my favorite gifts from him! It's honestly nice to have new clothes that aren't formal. I'm so happy he read my list." And kinda just bounces away.

Maybe Bruce asking if Tim finally got new cups for his office?

"Danny's so sweet, isn't he? He found my list for Christmas and decided to get me a few mugs and thermoses. It's great I don't have to worry about accidentally cutting my mouth open again." 😊

Or Stephanie (who was injured on patrol and Tim's Nest, with apartment on top, was the closest place she could get to.) commenting on the fact that Tim has a lot of blankets, pillows, and plushies.

"Danny got them for me for Christmas I love how soft and warm everything is. He even found a plushie of a sleeping ghost! It's weighted, has a heating feature, and is made of glow in the dark fabric. Matter of fact, almost all the plushies and blankets he got me were weighted! Just like I had written on my list. They make me feel so loved. After all, he wants me to feel warm and safe, what's more considerate than that?"

Cass looks for Tim, knowing he's staying in the manor overnight because of a gala the next day. She hears music coming from the bathroom, but the light isn't on. So she goes in to turn it off, just in case Tim accidentally left it on. Only to see that there is a light on. A music box made to look like a record player spinning a vinyl, projecting blue light to look like you were underwater. Tim was in the bathtub, with the music box on the rim.

After the kerfuffle of them realizing Cass walked in on Tim taking a bath, and Tim getting dressed quickly, Cassandra asks him where he got it? It's cute and sounds really nice.

"Oh, it's a gift from Danny. He gave me it for Christmas. He knows I like cute things like that. And it's nice to listen to. He even got me this cat eared fluffy hairband for when I do my skincare or makeup! So cute, right?" 🥰

And slowly, all of them realize they never got Tim what he wanted. They try to justify it by saying he put tech on the list, but they look back through past lists and realize Tim changed his list because no one ever got him what he put on the list.

omg, I love your take on my posts! Your writing is so good! And you're absolutely right—the batfamily realizing their oversight and coming to terms with is such an interesting angle to explore! I like the way you went about it, especially all the times Tim kept mentioning the items were from his list!!

That said, I also wanted to address something that a lot of people were frustrated about when reading my original post.. many were upset with the family for not reading Tim’s list, wondering if they lost it or ignored it on purpose. I realize I didn’t provide enough context on my post for how the list actually functions!

The christmas lists in the batfamily aren’t necessarily meant to be followed to the letter—they’re more of a reference in case someone doesn’t know what to get. For example, Damian’s interests are pretty well known (art supplies, things for his animals, weapons), so most of the family can buy him something without needing to check his list. But for someone like Alfred or Bruce, where their preferences might be harder to pin down, the list serves as a guide.

With Tim, the family assumes they already know what he likes. They don’t think they need to check his list because, in their minds, they already understand him. So they keep giving him things they know he uses—cameras, electronics, hard drives—without realizing he already has more than enough. It’s not necessarily neglectful; it’s just a blind spot.

Danny, on the other hand, actually looks at the list. Not only because he wants to get Tim the best gifts possible, but because he lives with him. He sees what Tim already has in abundance and what he’s been meaning to get for himself but keeps putting off. That’s why his gifts are so thoughtful—he pays attention in a way the others don’t.

I hope this explanation helps clarify things for those who were confused or frustrated!!

[ghostf1ux]

Going for the Throat

Day 1: Vocal Cords

Word Count: 3.4k

TW/CWs: Bad Dad!Bruce, me projecting onto Jason and Bruce's relationship

Part 1 || Part 2 (here)

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

Rain and thunder pound against the abandoned apartment building where two men face off.

“It's me or him. You have to choose!”

Jason watches with wide eyes as Bruce– no, Batman– turns around, as if he's ignoring a petulant child. He turns his gun from the Joker's head to Batman's.

“Choose!”

In a whirl of motion, he turns and flings his arm out. Laughter– maniacal, cackling laughter– echoes in Jason's ears. A bolt of lightning reflects off a dark, moving shape, the metal glinting dangerously.

He watches it fly towards him in slow motion.

He's too slow.

Too slow to move out of the way– to slow to process– 

Before that batarang is slicing his throat open into a cavernous ravine. 

He drops the Joker. The Joker laughs. Jason clutches at his throat– rivers of blood slipping between his fingers, filling up his throat, and he gasps but no air comes. 

He stumbles back, hand slipping off the wall, slick with his own blood. It pitter-patters against the ground in time with the rain. Green light– the color of Joker’s hair, the color of acid, the color of toxicity and pain– filters in through the windows, the little room where Jason drowns in his own blood starts to fill up with it. It pulls his limbs down, tearing and scratching and burning–

Jason shoots up with a choked gasp, skin slick with sweat. His blankets are strewn haphazardly around him, twisted in his limbs. His breathing is heavy and labored, heartbeat pounding in his ears as he takes in the unfamiliar dark room.

Right. 

He’s hiding out in a club’s back room while Bruce is conducting his investigation or whatever.

More accurately, he’s hunting Jason down while Tim does the actual investigation.

He drags his hand down his face as he gets his breathing back under control, scrubbing the last dredges of sleep from his eyes before rolling over to sit on the edge of the bed. He rests his elbows heavily on his knees, rubbing at the new scratches he’s made over the scar on his neck. Swallowing feels like rubbing sandpaper over a road rash, so he opts to stop doing that.

Only a moment later, there’s a soft knocking on his door. His immediate reaction is to point the gun he keeps under his pillow at it, slowly, soundlessly prowling closer. It’s probably just one of the girls, but his paranoia has been at an all time high these past few days he’s been staying here.

He cracks open the door, body taut with anticipation.

The soft, makeup-painted face of Kat looks back at him, those doe-eyes that make her customers swoon glancing over him. He sighs, leaning against the doorframe and opening the door a little wider.

“What’s up, Kat?” Jason asks tiredly, scratching his forehead with the back of his gun. She raises an eyebrow, though whether it’s because of the gun or because his voice sounds like it’s been through a paper shredder, he doesn’t know.

“The little one came back. Said the Bat has requested your presence.” She toes the door open a little further, just the few inches Jason will allow her to before stopping it with his foot. “Are you okay?”

Jason just grunts a vague affirmative, not quite meeting her eyes. She watches him idly rub at his neck, covering the raised scar standing out against his tan skin.

“Right, well, if you’re going to go, take a shower first. And leave the door unlocked so we know. He said he’d be waiting in the back.”

With that, she casts one last glance back at him before he shuts the door and she leaves. He sighs, the sound coming out more clipped and rough than normal.

Fuck. Of course this is the day this shit decides to act up.

Begrudgingly, he cleans up the room from his stay. He has half a mind to just let the little demon wait outside and never go to meet him, but that would just lead to him being annoyed by his siblings until he finally did listen, so it’s best to just get it over with now. The faster he can get Bruce off his back and go back to patrols, the better.

Over the next half hour, he takes his time putting the room back together, taking a shower per Kat’s suggestion, and getting back into his suit, sans helmet or domino, seeing as he hasn't been to any of his safehouses since B started hunting him.

He takes the back exit, avoiding anyone who may question why the Red Hood is in the back of a strip club without all of his gear on.

Then again, pretty much anyone who’s here knows the vague idea of what’s been happening the past few days so they probably wouldn’t question it all that much actually. 

As soon as he pushes the door open he sees Damian waiting, passively listening to the girls on break with his arms crossed, resolutely ignoring the way they’re clearly whispering about him. 

He snaps to attention when he sees Jason, straightening up. “Akhi. Father has–”

“Requested my presence, yes,” Jason finishes dryly, muttering the words once he’s closer so he doesn’t have to irritate his throat any more than needed. Damian still pauses when he hears the words, squinting at him.

“What is the matter with your voice?” He asks sharply. Jason brushes past him, waving the girls off as he takes the tarp off his motorcycle he retrieved yesterday. They head back inside, leaving the two vigilantes alone. “Answer me.”

“Nothing's wrong,” Jason huffs, wincing slightly at how the words crackle in his throat. Damian stares at him pointedly.

“Tt. You can't truly expect me to believe such an obvious lie–”

“Just drop it, Damian!” He finally snaps, taking a deep breath and pinching the bridge of his nose while resolutely ignoring the stab of guilt in his gut. “...Bad day.”

“I… see.” Damian turns to his own bike, throwing his leg over. Jason takes a moment to steel himself before doing the same, pushing through every instinct and every thought protesting the idea of returning to the manor to do just that.

The ride there is hot and dry, even with the summer wind whipping Jason's face. It almost feels dusty, or maybe ashy? There was a big fire somewhere in the city the night prior– not anywhere close to the club he was laying low at– but the effects from a fire like that would be felt city-wide. Must've been put out, if Damian is here to pick him up and now that he thinks about it, was definitely smelling of smoke. Really, the whole city does right now. 

Aka, literally everything terrible for his throat that can happen right now is happening right now. All he's missing is actually being in the fire.

Well, the day's still young, the sun just barely cresting the horizon. There's a nonzero chance he ends up in one.

This is Gotham, after all.

Anxiety twists his stomach into knots as they roll into the secret entrance to the Cave, motorcycle engines roaring quite a bit louder now that he doesn't have the helmet to muffle the sound echoing in the tunnel. Once it opens into the cave, he's almost surprised to see the whole family there until he remembers they probably just returned from patrol. Based on the fact that everyone's still in their suits, he'd wager he's right.

Jason parks his bike in his usual spot, which also happens to be the closest spot to the entrance. The Cave, usually smelling of bat shit and the cold, thick scent of cave water, now seems to be choked with the residual smells of the fire they were surely fighting just an hour prior.

Awesome. Great. Amazing. He can already feel it clogging the back of his throat, sending his ability to speak even further out of reach.

Surely he won't need it for a fucking conversation, right?

Right.

Jason struts over before Damian can, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow expectantly at the various sets of eyes on him.

“Well, I think it's clear we found the culprit–” Tim starts, before Jason raises a hand, turning his glare to the group of Bruce, Dick, and Cass.

Dick clears his throat. “I think it's safe to say an apology is in order,” he begins. “I'm sorry for jumping the gun, little wing. We should have listened to you.”

Cass nods in agreement. “Yes. I am sorry. Too fast. Ignored words.”

Jason watched with scrutiny, looking for any sign of a lie. When he finds none, he turns his glare to Bruce…

…who isn't even facing him. He's faced towards the Bat Computer, typing away at something on the screen. Jason's jaw ticks, watching the man quietly click away with laser-like focus for a solid thirty seconds before he turns to the rest of his family incredulously. Sparks of anger start to overpower the nauseous anxiety from before.

After another bit of waiting Jason loses his patience and flicks the gun with live ammo out of its holster– levels it at the screen– and fires off a shot. Cracks spider web across the monitor and it goes out, the lack of blue glow making the cave that much darker.

All this before anyone can move fast enough to stop him.

The silence of the normally cacophanous family following the resounding gunshot is heavy. Bats flutter and chitter overhead, leathery wings flapping indistinctly. Steph, Tim, and Dick watch with wide eyes as Bruce spins slowly in the chair. Cass and Alfred watch impassively, seeming unfazed, or, more likely, too good at hiding their true feelings. Damian is the same, but Jason doesn't miss the way his shoulders stiffen and his posture straightens. Everyone is tense, ready to interfere if necessary.

Maybe that should say something about the situation.

Jason dismisses it, just like he dismisses the lingering pain from the injuries he got during that chase and the way his heart climbs into his throat as Bruce slowly stands, glaring at him.

“That was an expensive monitor,” Bruce growls, all Batman in anything but mask. Jason just scoffs, holstering the gun and resuming his previous stance, keeping most of his weight on his toes, just in case. “You will pay for the replacement.”

Jason just raises an eyebrow, humming a sarcastic agreement that makes it very clear he will be doing no such thing. Hums are safe enough, he thinks. They hurt his throat like hell but they sound normal enough.

Bruce seems to accept it, because he continues to talk. “With the chaos of the fire, Firefly got away. You will be relegated to finding her. Once you do, call for backup prior to engaging so we can ensure another large fire is started before she is apprehended.”

Jason blinks.

Blinks again.

Then barks out a laugh. 

It's loud, and painful, and cracking, and doesn't carry a single ounce of humor. He doesn't miss the way several of the surrounding audience members flinch at the sudden 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jason practically wheezes, barely louder than a whisper in his bafflement.

“What was that?”

Bruce's voice distracts him from his moment of sheer incredulity. 

“I said, are you fucking kidding me?” Jason repeats louder, forcing the words out despite how it sends stabs of pain through his throat. His scar itches uncomfortably under the skin-tight turtleneck shirt he wears.

Bruce's eyes furrow, but it's Dick who speaks up. “Are you okay?”

“Fucking peachy,” Jason grinds out. “I'm here for the apology, old man. Get it over with so I can leave.”

“I summoned you here to coordinate your efforts to help the city with ours seeing as the suspect proving your innocence was apprehended.”

“Oh, that's just fucking rich.” His head snaps to Steph, who approaches him with a water bottle like she'd approach a wounded animal on the streets. He glances down at it, then at her, before forcefully relaxing his shoulders and taking it with a grunt of thanks. She nods, clearly trying to hide her concern and failing miserably. He appreciates it nonetheless.

Bruce turns back to the Computer, looking at all the other monitors. “I recommend starting in the Diamond District. That's where she was last seen. Oracle will send you the coordinates.”

Jason savors the last sip he takes before responding.

“No.”

Even the bats go quiet. The silence grows heavier, tension so thick you could cut it with a fucking butter knife.

“I gave you an order,” Bruce growls. Jason bristles, hands clenching at his side instead of twitching for his trigger like they want to.

“I'm not your good little soldier, B! I'll do what I want, whenever the fuck I want, because you don't fucking control me and you need to get it through your thick fucking skull!”

His voice grows to a hoarse, crackling crescendo before it finally breaks and sends Jason into a violent coughing fit that wracks his body, pulling at the stitches he so carefully sewed into himself. At some point someone– Steph, he thinks, by the purple fabric swaying on the edges of his vision– comes over to rub his back and takes the water out of his hand so he can rub his scrubbed-raw throat.

“Okay, I think we need to bench this conversation for today,” Tim cuts in, closer than Jason last remembered. Huh.

“No,” Jason croaks, glaring briefly at the small splatter of blood on his hand before wiping it away.

“Seriously, Jay, I think we need to get your throat looked at–”

Jason just growls his dissent, and woo that did not help.

“If you are to work with this team, you will listen to the orders you are given.”

“Fat fucking chance,” he hisses, something metallic making a small pool below his tongue.

“Okay, no, you're getting your throat checked out,” Dick cuts in, getting between Jason and Bruce to put his hands on the farmer's shoulders. “Little wing, what happened? I know we didn't do that.”

Jason laughs, the sound grating on his throat until a little blood dribbles out from his lips. “You wanna know what fucking happened? He slit my fucking throat, that's what happened, Dick! He slit my throat with a goddamn batarang and he left me to fucking die! He took the Joker and he ran without so much as a glimpse back at his supposed “son”!”

He falls into another coughing fit after that outburst that makes him fully double over, various bodies helping keep him up while trying not to encroach too far into his personal space. He takes the water from Steph's stiff hand, chugging it once he has the breath to do so. 

“I'm done, Bruce. I'm done with you. So you can fuck right off with your orders and all that bullshit. From now on, I'm cleaning up Gotham in a way that actually fucking works.”

There are a few moments of silence, where no one seems to know what to say.

“...Is that true?” Tim finally asks quietly, so painfully genuine and so close to the edge of scared. It almost makes Jason regret saying what he did.

“Father?” Damian prompts, voice so steely he knows the boy is hiding his true emotions behind a well-built wall around his heart.

Jason glares at Bruce, who simply looks back with a stone-cold expression of… disappointment? The resounding silence is telling.

“Babs, find the cowl footage,” Dick orders, grip turning tight on Jason's shoulders. Whether that's in an effort to keep Jason there or to keep himself there, he doesn't know. “Sound off.”

It's only a minute or so later the video is pulled up on the second biggest monitor (seeing as Jason shot the first one). Jason keeps his (no doubt glowing) gaze on Bruce, watching for any sort of tell, any sort of twitch that betrays his emotions.

It's also so he doesn't have to see the Joker or his own pathetic face staring back at him. He doesn't want to know what Bruce saw.

When the others gasp, stiffen, or have some other sort of outward reaction, he knows they've seen it. The moment Jason still has nightmares about and is the predominant reason he wears turtlenecks whenever he goes out.

Meanwhile, Bruce remains stoic. Silent. Stony, cold, and not a hint of fucking remorse.

Dick shakes, Jason suddenly notices. Not with fear, not with sobs, but with rage. A type of rage Jason has seldom seen on his golden-boy face. His breaths are controlled, but heavy, and– oh shit.

In a flash of movement, Dick is in front of Bruce and cracking his knuckles across the man's jaw– no one moves to intercept him. Bruce crashes to the ground under the force of that one hit.

“You could have killed him! You nearly did!” Dick shouts, all rage in his taut-as-a-bowstring form. “He is your son! I know you're an emotionally repressed piece of shit but what the absolute fuck was going through your head?!”

Bruce rubs his jaw before answering. “He was supposed to drop the Joker to move out of the way, so I had the opportunity to catch him off guard to apprehend him.”

Dick takes a deep breath. “What then, Bruce? You just cart your own son off to Blackgate? Arkham? Would you stick them in the same transport truck too? Just put your son– my little brother in the same place as his killer?” He scoffs out a laugh, more out of disbelief than anything else. “Of course you would. Because the mission always comes first. I should have fucking guessed something happened that night when you came here and scrubbed the footage from the main uploads.”

Jason watches the interaction with wide eyes, something warm curling inside him. Shit, maybe Dick actually did mean what he said before.

“I do not wish to reside here any longer,” Damian announces, though not nearly as dramatic as he usually would. He sounds disappointed. He sounds betrayed. He sounds a little more like the kid he should sound like at his age. “Someone who would so callously throw away the life of his son is not one I can trust in the field or in my own home any longer. Thus, my home shall be elsewhere.”

“Yes. You have broken trust,” Cass finally pipes up, looking down at Bruce from her perch.

“Yeahhh! Fuck Batman!” Steph cheers in vindication. “You always were an asshole, old man.”

Tim shoots her a little grin, before turning back to Bruce. “This isn't your city anymore, Bruce. I don't think it ever really was. Not after this.”

Jason looks around in wonder at his siblings all standing with him. Tears prick the corner of his eyes. He looks back down at Bruce, who, with the threat of Dick Grayson still standing over him, hasn't moved to get up. Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to stop him from speaking.

“Operating outside my purview will be grounds for me to apprehend you,” he warns. Jason grins, all sharp teeth and malice.

“I ran circles around you for months back when I was seventeen. Between all of us, you'll be lucky if you even get a glimpse.”

“And don't think I'm on your side with this either,” Babs chimes in from the Bat Computer speakers. “This is vile, Bruce. You broke your rule on your own son. Good luck attempting to even leave your cave.”

“I'll be back to pick up Dami's and Tim's things. If you want to walk around with that playboy face you so cherish, I don't suggest showing it while I'm here,” Dick snarls before turning around. “Alright, everyone, let's get going.”

Together, they pile onto their various vehicles, but Jason hesitates when he sees Alfred waiting by his bike.

“I am sorry, my boy. I… I was not aware of what had occurred that night,” Alfred murmurs. “To think we came so close to losing you again…”

“It's– it's fine, Alfie,” Jason whispers, no longer willing to force his voice into anything louder. Alfred offers him a small, pained smile, handing him a small box.

“Drink this when you return home. It will help your throat.”

Jason smiles something genuine at that, nodding. “I'll keep in touch.”

“Indeed. I would expect nothing less.”

[thegurlwhoisntthere]

Fun little thought I thought I’d share 😋

Imagine, it’s the big showdown between Red Hood and Batman, Joker’s unconscious form slumped nearby, completely bound.

Red hood, Jason, demands that Batman kill him. That after everything he’s done, all the people he’s killed, he pleads with his dad to kill the Batman (although he’d never admit that he still loves the man as a father, not yet).

There’s some dramatic back and forth where Batman refuses and Red Hood insists pleads that Batman Bruce kill the joker, until Bruce rips off the cowl and reveals that he did!

He did kill the Joker! He wore his favorite suit and grabbed two $1000 watches and used them as brass knuckles and beat the fucker to death! He burned his body and buried the ashes outside of the goddamn Fortress of Solitude so no one would find them! He folded up the bloodied suit and boxed them with the broken watches and put them a hidden compartment in the base of Jason’s memorial in the cave, where no one would ever touch or find them! He waited until Superman was off world so he wouldn’t stop him again and told no one of what he did!

And how that ends is up to y’all. I just think that it’s interesting how there are canonically 3 Jokers (possibly more if dc changes their mind) and wouldn’t it be fun if Bruce knowingly murdered one of them only for another to pop up and make him suicidal to the point where a little Timothy Drake needs to blackmail his way into being Robin so he doesn’t kill himself?

[starlooove]

I Hate tim and I hate white ppl using crashout however. That is in fact what he is.

[geraldmariaivo]

not to hijack this post for DPxDC, BUT-

The reason his aging is so wild is because of Lady Gotham.

Jason might be her favorite Robin, and she’s so proud of him even as the very murdery crime boss Red Hood -crime is a big part of her city, and thus her after all- but Bruce is her Special Boy. He was the first of her Knights, and she wants to keep him happy and healthy as long as possible.

So as he goes on and does what he will, Gotham does her best to keep him well as long as she can. Sure it takes energy, and yes she’s ill, but he and his brood do so much for her, and it takes so little compared to what she needs, so it’s a worthwhile sacrifice. She prevents a few wrinkles here and there, makes sure his joints don’t ache so much, and even learned how to play well with other magics so she could take whatever aura and trace magic is left from whatever supernatural shenanigans her little boy had while he was away and use it so she could save up a little more of her own energy. (The curses upon her land, while varied, make it very difficult to use benevolently-intended magics, but it only took a few decades to learn when she buckled down and got to it. (and begrudgingly asked Fawcett for help.))

Yes, Bruce is her Special Little Boy, her Champion, her First Knight, and Head of the Guard his brood form, and she will do everything she can to keep him hale and hearty.

Headcanon that Bruce never celebrates his birthday. He actually constantly forgets when it is. Chances are, whenever he needs to file something up, it's a random date.

Adding that up with the fact that he manages to fluctuate between looking like a 20 and 60 year old, no one actually knows how old he is. Alfred does. He won't say anything thought.

Naturally, when the bat kids throw him parties, because hey, they're glad you're alive BRUCE, the birthdays candles are different. As you can imagine, they handle it their way.

" How the fuck can he be 30?! You know what, Maybe your parents fell on purpose.''

" Jason, you're an English major. Stay out of this.'

" Look at the math. Look at the MATH, STEPHANIE."

" How the fuck did you get 12?!"

Damian's lounging on Bruce's lap, eating spoonfuls of cake, watching them all tear eachother to pieces. He absolutely instigated this.

[luv-lock]

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ A 10/10 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

𐙚 Pairing: Batboys x Fem Reader

𐙚 Characters: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne.

𐙚 Headcanon: General thought about their d!ck.

𐙚 Notes: Minors DNI. Yes I'm ashame of myself... And for people that says "but Damian is 14-16" we literally have at least 5-6 version of him as an adult, so yeah. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

𓈒   ⎯ Bruce Wayne

Let’s be real here—Bruce is packing. Not just in the Batmobile but in his pants too. You knew Gotham’s favorite billionaire had to be compensating for all the emotional repression somehow, right? Soft, he’s a solid 4.5 inches, but when he’s hard? This man is pushing 7.8 inches, and girthy enough that the first time you see it, your eyes might widen just a little (and he notices). Bruce is so well-kept it’s almost infuriating—clean-shaven, smooth, with a slight curve upwards that hits places you didn’t even know existed. The veins? Immaculate. He looks like something out of a sinful art gallery. And oh, he’s so smug about it. The type to whisper in your ear, “You’re taking me so well,” while his cock stretches you open in the most delicious way. His stamina is next level—he doesn’t cum quickly, but when he does? It’s thick, warm, and comes in heavy spurts. Not too salty either, with a clean taste (you’re welcome). He’s also quietly obsessed with how you react to him—it feeds his ego.

𓈒   ⎯ Dick Grayson

Alright, ladies, let’s talk about Dick. The first Robin, the golden boy—of course, he’s a damn gift in the bedroom too. Soft, he’s a respectable 4 inches, but when he’s fully hard that’s 7.5 inches, sleek and just slightly slimmer than Bruce’s (he jokes about being “aerodynamic”). Dick’s cock curves upward just right, a natural curve that always hits your G-spot perfectly, and his veins are prominent enough that you feel every ridge as he moves inside you. He’s smooth down there, neatly trimmed, and he has a little beauty mark just above his shaft (you discovered it while going down on him one day, and now you can’t stop kissing it). His tip is super sensitive—run your tongue along it, and he’s putty in your hands. And when Dick cums? It’s a lot. Like, a lot. He’s a messy boy—warm, thick, and he always gasps your name when he finishes, pressing his forehead to yours like it’s the most intimate thing in the world.

𓈒   ⎯ Jason Todd

Jason’s cock matches his vibe: thick, heavy, and absolutely commanding. Soft? This man is 5 inches, and when he’s hard? He’s a beast at 8.5 inches with a girth that’ll make you question if you can handle it (spoiler: you’ll love it). He’s got a slight downward curve, which hits your walls just right when he’s thrusting deep. And god, the veins. Jason’s dick looks like it was carved by a lustful Greek god—thick, prominent veins that press against every inch of you in the most obscene way. He’s not as neatly trimmed as Bruce or Dick—just enough to stay presentable, but it’s Jason, so you’d expect a bit of ruggedness. His tip is flushed and sensitive, and when you wrap your lips around him, he curses low and filthy under his breath. Jason cums hard—his orgasms are so intense that he growls through them, his whole body trembling as he empties himself inside you. His cum is hot, thick, and just slightly salty, like he’s been drinking too much coffee (which, let’s be real, he has).

𓈒   ⎯ Damian Wayne

Listen, Damian might be the youngest of the bunch, but don’t underestimate him. His cock is a masterpiece. Soft, he’s around 4.2 inches, and when he’s hard? A respectable 7 inches—not as long as Jason or Bruce, but he’s thicker than Dick. Damian is proud of what he’s got, too, the type to smirk and tease you about how flustered you get every time he pulls it out. His tip is a little darker than the rest of his shaft, and the veins are subtle but enough to feel every time he slides into you. He’s meticulous about grooming, of course—everything is perfectly trimmed, and he smells so damn good it drives you wild. When Damian cums, it’s deliberate and controlled—he’s not the type to lose himself completely, but that just makes it hotter. His release is warm, thick, and there’s always a smug smirk on his face when he watches you struggle to catch your breath afterward. He’s the type to kiss you deeply and whisper, “You can take more, can’t you?” because he loves pushing your limits.

𝒍𝒖𝒗-𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌 ☆ 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[eclips-moon]

The Batboys being clingy headcanon:

Including Duke and Bruce <3

Hope you guys like it!

Tim Drake Tim’s clinginess is low-key, but it’s also constant. He’s the type to text you “What’s up? I miss you <3” while you’re just sitting 5 feet away from him. If you so much as stand up to go get a snack, he’s immediately there, like, “Where are you going? Don’t leave me.” He’ll lean against you, his hand finding yours without him even realizing it. When you're watching TV or reading, he’s definitely leaning into your side, trying to get as close as possible without being too obvious. But if you move to shift positions? Nope, he’s following you. He’ll slip his arm around your waist, all like, “Don’t think I didn’t notice that.” He’s not a big PDA guy, but when it’s just the two of you? Prepare for cuddles, hand-holding, and small, random kisses. He’s gotta be touching you constantly.

Jason Todd Jason is obsessive, no doubt. He’s that partner who’ll try to act like he’s tough and independent, but the moment you show him any kind of affection, he’s all over you. Like, you can’t just hug him. No. He’ll climb into your lap and basically trap you there, rubbing his face into your neck like a cat. He’s gonna constantly ask for kisses, too, but not just little pecks—he wants full-on, deep kisses where he can pull you close and remind you that you’re his. If you’re doing something, like, working or even hanging out with friends, he’ll try to drag you away, be like, “Hey, come hang out with me, stop ignoring me for two seconds.” He’s possessive, but in the cutest way, constantly needing your attention. If you even talk to another person for too long, he’ll give them side-eye and pull you back to him like, “You good? You’re not gonna leave me for some random guy, are you?” He’s also the type to cling to you in bed, hogging the covers and curling up like a human koala.

Dick Grayson Dick’s clingy energy is pure gold. He’s the most affectionate of the bunch and doesn’t shy away from public displays of love. He loves hugging you from behind, nuzzling into your neck, and just randomly planting kisses all over your face. He’ll text you “miss you <3” every few hours when you’re apart, and when you’re together? It’s all about touch. He’s sitting on your lap, or leaning on your shoulder, or pulling you into his chest just because he needs to be close to you. If you’re watching a movie, he’s definitely going to have his head in your lap, just to be as close to you as humanly possible. He gets giddy when he gets attention from you, too. You could be playing with his hair, and he’ll melt. He’ll whine like, “I’m not clingy, you’re clingy. But also, I love it. So don’t stop.” Honestly, Dick doesn’t care if he’s acting like a bit of a puppy—he’s obsessed with you, and he makes sure you know it.

Damian Wayne Damian’s clingy moments are hilariously dramatic. He might start out cold, acting like he doesn’t need anyone, but as soon as you show him any affection? He’s all in. He’ll randomly grab your hand and hold it like it’s the most important thing in the world. If you try to walk away from him for whatever reason, he’ll growl and pull you back in, like, “Where are you going? You’re staying right here.” He has this whole vibe of “I don’t need anyone else, just you”, so if you’re talking to someone else or looking away from him for too long, he’ll wrap his arm around your waist and be like, “I don’t think you should be talking to them. They might steal you away from me.” In bed? He’s a hug monster, wrapping his arms around you like he’s never letting you go. He’s all about the intimacy, though—when it’s just the two of you, he’ll be soft and surprisingly vulnerable, making sure you know that he needs you more than he lets on.

Duke Thomas Duke is lowkey super clingy, but in the way that’s goofy and endearing. He loves to follow you around, like, just wherever you go, he’s tagging along. You’re going to the kitchen? He’s there. To grab something from the laundry room? He’s there. If you sit down, he’s sitting on the floor next to you, asking if you want to “cuddle and watch dumb shows together.” He’s always finding excuses to touch you—like, his hand will just casually rest on your knee or he’ll come up behind you and play with your hair. And if you don’t give him attention? He’ll pout, even if he’s trying to play it off, like, “Aren’t you gonna give me a kiss? C’mon, don’t leave me hanging.” He’s the type who’ll give you a silly smile, lean in for a kiss, and then pull you into a full-on hug like, “Don’t go. I’m not done with you yet.” He’s all about the hugs, especially after a long day. You’ll be just chilling, and suddenly he’s like, “Hug time, right? Let me get one.”

Bruce Wayne Now, Bruce is not the type to openly admit he’s clingy. He’s still the stoic, brooding billionaire who’s been through a lot, but when it’s just the two of you? He’s softer than anyone expects. He’ll always make sure you’re physically close—his hand on your lower back, your legs touching when you sit next to him, and if he’s standing near you, his hand will casually rest on your arm. When you’re working late or doing something serious, Bruce will occasionally pull you away for a few minutes just to kiss you or hold you close. He’s not great at asking for attention, but when he’s feeling clingy, he’ll show you through little gestures. You’ll find him just sitting beside you in silence, just content to be in your presence. He’s a man of few words, but when he’s clingy, it’s all about the touch—the way he holds your hand, how he presses his shoulder to yours, and how he’ll insist on driving you home or waiting up for you, just to make sure you’re safe.

[e-nonsense]

“Gonna fill you up, till you’re round with my baby.”

This prompt for Dick having baby fever with his fem!reader after seeing her taking good care of Damian (giving him praises and cookies for example).

Please and thank you!

pairing. dick grayson x reader

warning. smut

a/n. here you go anon

prompts used. “gonna fill you up, till you’re round with my baby.”

seeing you with damian was normal. the young boy saw you and dick as his paternal figures not that he’d admit it. but to see you doting over the boy. he’d ‘ran’ away from home — you’d already called bruce to tell him where damian is — and to your shared apartment.

first it started with the way you worried when he showed up at your door, a bag swung over his shoulder and his scowl set on his face.

“damian?” you stared down at the boy confused, looking around the hall way where all the other flats and the elevator could be seen.

“what’s wrong? are you okay?” your confusion switched to worry almost immediately when the boy hugged you, your arms moving around him to hug him back, gently rubbing his head.

“can i stay with you and grayson?” he mumbled.

“babe? who’s at the door—” dick’s voice trailed off when he saw damian holding onto you for dear life.

“what happened?” dick asks, the worry in his eyes matching yours.

“he needs to stay over tonight,” you murmur, glancing at dick with those puppy eyes of yours that he can’t say no to. he wanted to protest, remind you that tonight is his night off and date night but his heart flutters at the way damian clings to you like a boy would to his mother.

he doesn’t have the heart to say no, merely nodding. “sure baby, he can have the spare room.”

the next time he feels that same flutter of undistinguishable wanting is when you’re making damian late dinner for him, seeing as its midnight and you and dick were planning on a little fun tonight.

the way damian sits at the dining table, finishing his homework — because even if he’s staying here and his school is in gotham he’s still gotta keep up with school — and the way you make something quick that alfred taught you to make before sending damian off to bed.

he’s all over you after that, kissing at your neck, hands slipping under your shirt, you giggle before reminding him that his little brother is in the apartment so fun time is going to have to wait.

so he waits, a week before damian finally leaves, not that dick minds having his little brother around — lies. he does mind, he minds a lot, especially when your attention is being stolen from him.

but even that didn’t stop the way his heart fluttered with every moment you doted over like a mother would, and that’s when it clicked in his mind. he wanted a baby with you.

that’s how you got here. a week later after you’d dropped damian back to the manor, and when you came home you were talking to him about how you were concerned about damian overworking on patrols but he couldn’t hear a word over the hunger buzzing in his ears.

“mhm,” he hummed, head pressed into your neck as you rambled on. “baby, baby shhhh. lets forget about them for minute.”

“dick?” you mutter confused, his hands pressing warmly against your tummy.

“yes baby?” he asks.

“what’re you doing?” you ask.

“touching you, why? am i not allowed to touch my girl?” he replies, moving you towards the bedroom. “my pretty girl, yknow that?”

you hum in response, not sure what had come over him as he gently nudges you back onto the mattress to lay down. “i was thinking, honey. about you and me… and a little someone else.”

you catch the way his eyes drop to your stomach, his pupils blown out so much that his pretty blue eyes look different. “and who’s that?” you ask, urging him on.

“our baby.”

now that does surprise you, you and dick have never talked about having kids together, you’ve barely even talked about marriage but you know enough that he seems to like the idea of both those scenarios.

“our baby?” you question and he nods, a wide smile setting on his lips as he stares down at you hungrily.

“you’d look so pretty, honey. all round and full, full of me, of us. i’d take such good care of you too.”

your cheeks flush at the way he stares at you and the way the compliments leave his lips, like pure honey.

it doesn’t take much longer till you’re both completely bare, with you all spread out under him all fucked out as he ruts against you from behind.

he wasn’t shy with his noises, whining into your ear and groaning too. whispering praises that make you purr. “aw, look at you baby, all fucked and pretty for me to use. you want me to fill you up that bad huh?”

you nod eagerly, stomach fluttering as you spasm around him, face pressed into the pillows to bury your moaning, back arched so prettily it makes him want to never stop.

“good girl, my good girl. you like the sound of being a mommy huh?” he coos, fucking into you with no mercy, mind set of giving you a baby. a part of the two of you to love.

“that’s good ‘cause i’m gonna fill you up, till you’re round with my baby.”

© e-nonsense. do no copy/steal/translate. do it and I’ll bite your toes off

[ahqkas]

Hey so how do you think the bat boys would deal with having a s/o who doesn’t know they have hero identities yet and they find out s/o has some merch of their hero side at their house? S/o just thinks that heroes neat and uses one of the figures as a door stopper so the door does not slam when it’s windy and the windows open or paper weight for important paperwork so it doesn’t go flying everywhere?

♯SECRETS WE KEEP CLOSE TO OUR HEARTS

— gn!reader, kinda based it of the stuff i own !!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

. . . BRUCE WAYNE !

IT STARTED OUT LIKE ANY OTHER MORNING AT WAYNE MANOR. the first rays of sunshine peeked through the heavy curtains of bruce’s grand bedroom, the golden light pooling across the floor. you shuffled out of bed, your feet cold against the hardwood, and grabbed the nearest hoodie to ward off the chill. you’ve never been a morning bird. but what would change it now?

unbeknownst to you, bruce was already awake, freshly showered and shaved, nursing a steaming cup of coffee alfred made for him in the kitchen. he was going over the morning’s headlines of the gotham gazette when he heard your light footsteps approaching. a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. mornings like this—quiet, unhurried—were rare but cherished.

“morning,” you greeted, still groggy as you walked into the kitchen.

“morning,” he replied, glancing up from the paper. the casual warmth in his voice faltered the moment his eyes landed on your figure.

you were wearing that hoodie. black, oversized, and emblazoned with a bright yellow bat-symbol on the front. he recognized it immediately—he’d seen it on display in some tacky downtown gotham shop months ago. he’d even scoffed at the inaccuracies back then, not expecting you to own one, let alone wear it. and now you were draped in his merch.

bruce blinked, caught off guard, but quickly schooled his expression back into neutrality. “what are you wearing?” ( curiosity on the outside , panic on the inside ) . what if you knew of his nighttime activities?

glancing down at yourself and your choice of clothing, you tugged at the hem absentmindedly. “oh, this? yeah, i love it. it’s super comfy. got it on sale a while back.”

“you’re a fan of batman?”

you gave him a curious look. “who isn’t? he’s gotham’s hero. besides, the bat-symbol looks pretty cool.” you shrugged, heading to the coffee maker. “though i guess it’s a little weird wearing merch of someone who’s technically, like, a crime boss for good.”

bruce choked on his coffee, barely masking it with a cough. “crime boss?”

“well, think about it,” you teased, pouring yourself a mug of the dark liquid. “he’s got henchmen—like robin and nightwing—and a lair filled with gadgets. he’s just . . . on the good side.”

the batman fought the urge to laugh. he leaned back in his chair, observing you with a mix of affection and amusement. who knew he had such a lovie around his finger? “that’s one way to look at it,” he replied smoothly, though he couldn’t help but feel a small swell of pride.

you turned, leaning against the counter, and sipped your coffee. “why? you don’t like him?”

his brows arched, genuinely curious. “what makes you say that?”

“you’re awfully neutral about the guy for someone who lives in gotham. most people either think he’s amazing or a total menace. you’re, like, switzerland on batman,” you said, narrowing your eyes playfully.

“let’s just say . . . i have a unique perspective.”

. . . DICK GRAYSON !

IT WAS ONE OF THOSE LAZY AFTERNOONS WHERE THE TWO OF YOU HAD DECIDED TO STAY IN. the sun filtered through the curtains of your cozy apartment, casting warm, golden light across the room as you lay curled on the couch, scrolling through your phone, while dick was sprawled in an armchair across from you, pretending to do his own stuff at his phone but mostly watching you with a soft smile tugging at his lips.

everything was perfectly normal—until he noticed what you were wearing.

it was a t-shirt, oversized and clearly one of your go-to comfy options. but not just any shirt. emblazoned across the chest was the bold, angular symbol of nightwing, printed in that unmistakable electric blue. now that got his attention.

dick blinked, lowering the glowing screen slightly to get a better look at you. for a moment, he felt a mix of pride, amusement, and sheer panic wash over him. you had nightwing merch? did you know? were you teasing him? or had you just picked it up as a casual fan of blüdhaven’s vigilante? there were so many questions but so little answers.

“nice shirt,” he commented casually, though his voice had an edge of curiosity, asking you with saying the question out loud.

you glanced up, oblivious to his sudden attention. “oh, this?” you plucked at the hem and grinned. “yeah, i thought it was cool. i found it at this little street market the other day. plus, the guy’s kinda awesome, you know?”

he quirked a brow, trying not to look too amused. “kinda awesome?”

“okay, really awesome,” you gave in with a laugh. “i mean, he’s out there keeping blüdhaven from going completely off the rails. and unlike some other heroes, he doesn’t have a million-dollar budget or fancy gadgets. he just . . . handles it.”

your boyfriend leaned back in the plush chair, a smirk tugging at his lips. “sounds like you’re a pretty big fan.” talk about narcissism.

“well, yeah, who wouldn’t be? he’s smart, agile, and has a heart. plus, have you seen his—” you caught yourself, suddenly looking flustered and with a good reason. you were caught ranting to your boyfriend about nightwing.

“seen his what?” dick was intrigued even more now after your little slip up, leaning forward with his smirk deepening. oh, he was just starting.

you waved a hand dismissively, your cheeks flushing under his gaze. “nothing. forget i said anything.”

“uh-huh. sure. so, did you pick that shirt just because you’re a fan, or . . . ?”

you tilted your head, narrowing your eyes at his suspiciously amused tone. “what’s with the third degree, grayson? are you jealous or something?”

“me? jealous of a guy in spandex? never,” he replied with mock indignation. but the way his lips twitched betrayed his amusement—and the fact that he was having way too much fun with this.

“good,” you teased, leaning back into the pillows. “because if i ever run into him, i’ll totally make sure to tell him my boyfriend is completely secure and not at all threatened by a superhero.”

dick laughed, shaking his head a little. “oh, i’m sure he’d be very flattered to hear that.”

seeing you in his symbol was both endearing and a little surreal. part of him wanted to come clean right then and there, to tell you that the guy you admired so much was sitting right across from you, teasing you about your t-shirt. but for now, he decided to keep his secret.

still, as he watched you lounge in that nightwing tee, a soft warmth bloomed in his chest. if you only knew the truth, he had a feeling you’d still think he was kind of awesome—though he wasn’t sure you’d ever let him live down the spandex comments.

. . . JASON TODD !

IT WAS A BREEZY SATURDAY AFTERNOON, and the windows of your small apartment were wide open, letting the crisp, cool air in. papers were strewn across your desk as you worked on sorting through bills and notes. to keep the occasional gust from scattering everything, you’d grabbed the closest thing you could find—an action figure.

( not just any action figure, though. )

sitting proudly on top a stack of papers was a small, highly detailed replica of gotham’s infamous red hood, complete with his signature leather jacket, red helmet, and pistols. even the little red bat on his chest matched the original.

your boyfriend walked in, carrying takeout bags in both hands as he kicked the front door shut behind him, his boots making soft thuds against the floor. “babe, i got—” he froze mid-sentence when he spotted the figure perched on your desk. his eyes narrowed as he tilted his head, trying to process the absurdity of the situation.

no fucking way.

“is that . . . ?”

you glanced up briefly, barely registering his confusion. “huh?”

he set the bags down on the counter, crossed the room in a few strides, and picked up the small figurine. jason held it up, examining it with an almost comical mix of horror and amusement on his face.

“this,” he said, gesturing to the action figure like it had personally offended him, “is red hood merch.”

“yeah, and?” you replied nonchalantly, not looking up from your stack of papers.

“and?” he repeated, incredulous. “why do you even have this? do you collect vigilante merch or something?”

“no, i just saw it at some random shop a while ago. i thought it looked cool, so i bought it. plus, he’s kind of a badass.”

jason blinked, caught between pride and disbelief. “you think he’s a badass?”

“yeah, don’t you?” you finally looked up at him. lips curving into a teasing smile. “what, are you jealous of a figurine now?”

his jaw ticked, his expression unreadable as he turned the figure over in his hands. “jealous? no,” he muttered, though the tightness in his voice suggested otherwise. “i just think it’s funny that you’re using this to keep your papers from flying out the window. kind of disrespectful to the guy, don’t you think?”

you laughed. “oh, please. i’m sure gotham’s notorious anti-hero doesn’t care if his likeness is helping me with my paperwork. honestly, he should feel honored.”

“honored?” jason echoed, his lips twitching into a smirk despite himself. “yeah, i’m sure that’s exactly what he’d feel.”

you leaned back in your chair, watching him with a curious glint in your eyes. “what’s with the attitude? are you secretly a red hood fanboy or something?”

he rolled his eyes, setting the figure back down on your desk—albeit more carefully than he’d picked it up. “oh, yeah, totally. i’ve got a whole shrine dedicated to him at home.”

“hm, i bet you do,” you teased, grinning as you watched him retreat to unpack the takeout.

jason shook his head, his smirk lingering as he pulled out the food. internally, he was debating how to feel about the whole situation. on one hand, the fact that you admired red hood (even if you didn’t know it was him) was oddly flattering. on the other, the sight of his miniature self keeping your papers in line was downright hilarious.

as he set the table, he couldn’t resist throwing a final jab over his shoulder. “just saying, if you’re such a big fan, you should probably treat him with more respect. maybe let him do something cooler than babysit your bills.”

“oh, relax,” you shot back, laughing. “if he has a problem, he can come tell me himself.”

jason snorted, shaking his head as he brought the plates over. “careful what you wish for, babe.”

don’t be surprised when red hood comes knocking on your door, sweetheart!

. . . TIM DRAKE !

THE NIGHT WAS CLOSING IN and tim was stretched out on your couch in your apartment, his phone resting on his lap as we tiredly watched the tv. the soft hum of the crime documentary filled the background as you dug through your bag by the door, fishing around for your keys.

“found them!” you declared, holding them up triumphantly.

tim glanced over with a small smile tugging at his lips. you were adorable like this, excited over the smallest things. “that’s a lot of enthusiasm for finding keys.”

you walked over, jingling the keyring in the process. “it’s not about the keys, it’s about this little guy.”

you held up the ring, pointing specifically at a tiny lego figure hanging off of it. the miniature figure wore a domino mask and a red-and-black suit with a yellow “R” emblazoned on the chest—a miniature red robin.

your boyfriend froze on the spot. his brain seemed to hit a wall as he stared at the tiny version of himself dangling from your keys. the little figure swayed slightly, as though mocking him.

“ . . . where did you get that?”

“oh, isn’t it cute?” you beamed, completely unaware of his internal crisis. “i found it in one of those comic stores a while back. thought it’d make a perfect keychain. and it has! look at him, so heroic, guarding my keys.”

tim blinked, unsure whether to laugh or groan. heroic? lego him? guarding your keys?

“you’re a fan of red robin?” he asked carefully, tilting his head.

you shrugged, plopping down onto the spot on the couch beside him, immediately leaning into his warmth. “i mean, yeah. who isn’t? he’s kind of underrated, though, don’t you think?”

“underrated?”

“yeah!” you set the keys on the coffee table and turned to him. “i mean, everyone talks about batman and nightwing—and robin, obviously—but red robin? he’s like . . . the smart one. the strategic one. he deserves more credit, you know?”

tim raised an eyebrow, trying not to look too smug. “so, he’s your favorite, then?”

“mmm,” you pretended to consider. “he’s up there. though nightwing’s a close second. sorry, but the guy’s got moves.”

he snorted, leaning back against the couch. “can’t argue with that.”

“but red robin’s, like, the total package,” you continued, gesturing animatedly. “he’s clever, he’s got that whole detective thing going on, and he doesn’t get as much attention, so he’s probably not as cocky as some of the others.”

your hero boyfriend choked on his laugh. “not as cocky?”

“yeah, he strikes me as humble, you know?” you leaned forward, picking up the keychain again and holding it up like it was a sacred artifact. “plus, he’s got great taste in suits. red and black? iconic.”

tim bit the inside of his cheek, struggling to keep a straight face. “so you carry him around everywhere?”

“of course,” you said, grinning. “he’s like my little sidekick. protects my keys from danger. well, mostly from me losing them, but still.”

he shook his head, unable to hide his smile anymore. “you’re something else, you know that?”

part of him wanted to tell you right then and there that the figure you adored so much was literally him—but there was something too sweet, too hilarious about the situation to ruin it just yet. besides, you looked genuinely happy talking about red robin, and he kind of liked seeing himself through your eyes, even if you didn’t know it. he made a silent vow to tell you the truth soon. but for now, he let you keep your little lego protector, amused and endeared by the fact that you unknowingly carried a tiny version of him wherever you went.

[flwrkid14]

Tim Drake’s Coworkers (ft. The Fenton Family)

It’s not that Tim doesn’t like the Batfamily. He tolerates them just fine. Damian is great for sparring (if you like sparring with a tiny murder machine), and Jason’s brand of dark humor isn’t too bad once you get used to it. Dick’s a bit too much sometimes, but overall? Fine. Totally fine.

But the thing is… they’re just his coworkers.

And it never really clicks for the Bats until Danny Phantom joins the Justice League and everything starts unraveling.

———

The revelation comes during a League meeting. They’re strategizing about some ghost-related chaos, and Danny floats into the Watchtower, bright and glowing.

“Oh, hey, Tim,” Danny greets casually, giving him a little wave.

Tim doesn’t even look up from his tablet. “Sup.”

Superman looks between them, confused. “…you two know each other?”

Danny grins. “yeah, he’s my brother.”

Dead silence.

“WHAT?!” Bruce’s bellow shakes the entire room.

Tim finally looks up, unfazed. “What? Did you think I just spawned into existence?”

“You have a brother?!” Clark sputters.

“Two siblings, actually,” Tim corrects, utterly nonchalant. “Danny’s the younger one. Jazz is the older one. She’s great. Super organized. Kept me alive in middle school.”

Bruce’s eye twitches. “Why—why am I only learning this now?”

Tim shrugs. “It didn’t seem relevant.”

“Relevant?” Diana repeats, incredulous. “You’re the brother of Danny Phantom and it’s not relevant?”

Danny, who’s been munching on some ectoplasm candy, jumps in: “Honestly, Tim’s always been kind of private about his personal life. We just figured it was his way of coping with the whole ‘raised-by-rich-neglectful-aunt’ thing.”

“Yeah, about that,” Tim interjects, glaring at Danny. “Thanks so much for dumping me with Aunt Janet, by the way.”

Danny shrugs sheepishly. “Mom and Dad panicked! They thought you’d get ghost-napped next!”

“Uh, correction: Aunt Janet left me to raise myself, so that plan was awesome.”

Bruce, trying to keep up, interrupts: “Hold on. Your parents left you with Janet Drake?”

“They didn’t know she sucked at raising kids,” Tim deadpans. “And to be fair, they did call. A lot. I just didn’t pick up.”

Jason, who has been cackling this entire time, leans forward. “Wait, wait, wait—so you’re telling me that the Replacement’s entire family is a bunch of ghost hunters?”

“Yup.” Danny pops the “p” with a grin.

“You’re kidding me,” Steph says, borderline hysterical.

Tim sighs, clearly over it. “Look, it’s not a big deal. Jazz keeps the parents in check, Danny handles the ghost stuff, and I… stay out of the way. It’s fine.”

“FINE?” Damian glares. “Drake, you’ve been fraternizing with ghost hunters while working with a vigilante group, and you think that’s fine?”

Tim raises an eyebrow. “Dami, chill. It’s not like it affects work. You’re my coworkers. They’re my family. Separate categories.”

Cue collective Batfamily malfunction.

———

Later, Danny is chilling in the Batcave, feet kicked up on the Batcomputer, chatting with Alfred. The rest of the Bats are still spiraling.

“Tim, we’ve lived together for years!” Dick exclaims, sounding genuinely hurt. “How are we only your coworkers?”

“You’re not my family,” Tim explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Danny and Jazz are my family. You guys are my teammates. It’s different.”

Jason throws his head back, laughing. “Oh my god, Replacement, you’re stone cold.”

“I’m not cold,” Tim argues. “I just don’t think we need to make it more complicated than it is. We work together. That’s enough.”

Meanwhile, Danny is wiping tears of laughter off his face. “Oh man. Jazz is gonna love this.”

[deadsetobsessions]

Danny always knew tax evasion ran in his veins. His parents hadn’t been the most… morally sound of people, and less so as ecto-scientists.

He just didn’t think their lessons would ever result in a criminal empire that spanned the entire city and then some. Danny hadn’t seen it coming. His parents definitely wouldn’t have.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Wayne. Mr. Fox.”

Danny ‘the Phantom’ Fenton sat down across from a rather tense looking (to Danny’s enhanced senses, anyways) Brucie Wayne and his right hand, Lucius Fox. He smiled pleasantly, matching Brucie’s vacant smile with that touch of Midwest suburban mother smile.

With his acquisition of multiple Gotham companies, his rather newly established Fentom Co. became one of the largest holding companies in Gotham, the first being Wayne Enterprises and the second being Drake Industries. After months of constantly working his butt off while fending off assassins, reforming Gotham’s slums and cleaning up some of the streets, and taking care of his nest of street kids, Danny garnered enough power to even stand close to Wayne Enterprises in terms of financial powers.

The topic of this meeting was, of course, the proposed merger of Wayne Enterprises’ Medical R&D division with Fentom Co.’s pharmaceutical department. Usually, Wayne Enterprises wouldn’t even consider such an offer, as their Medical R&D division was the most well funded and least likely to be part of a Rogue’s scheme- and therefore most beloved- department of the same nature in Gotham. However, Danny had something the other offers didn’t.

Blackmail.

His overly polite smile widened as Bruce’s mask twitched. His eyes slid over to Lucius Fox.

“It’s an honor to meet you, sir. I’ve heard much about your genius in… research and development.”

By that, Danny meant that he knew Lucius Fox helped develop Batman’s tech.

He did a lot of stalking that week. It felt rather… invasive, even if he did get a bunch of juicy secrets.

You know what they say: dead men tell no tales… but halfas are generally blabbermouths.

“Is that so? It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. Fenton.” The man quickly glanced between the youngsters, accurately predicting that this might have something to do with Bruce’s active nightlife.

“Yes, it is such a pleasure to meet you.”

Wow, Danny didn’t think he’d ever heard anyone sound both so perky and dead inside at the same time, except for Susan at Gotham High’s bake sale.

Bruce wishes he could be a Susan. He’s at best a Becky.

“Will you be staying, Mr. Fox? You’re the head of the R&D department, correct?”

“Ah, yes-”

“Oh, Lucius! I think you had an appointment with the finance department right now! I heard Sally talk about it, you know!”

Lucius Fox sent an unreadable look at Bruce before rallying.

“Oh, it must have slipped my mind. My apologies, Mr. Fenton, it seems as though I can not skip this appointment.���

“That’s alright. I suppose it gives you… plausible deniability… should things go wrong, haha!” Danny allowed his smile to widen a little further than natural. Bruce tensed but Lucius Fox simply politely smiled and left the room.

Ignorance is bliss and all that, Danny amusedly thought.

As the door shut with a click, Bruce dropped the vacant Brucie smile and sighed.

“What do you want,” he gritted out. Danny wasn’t about to let that slide, not after he spent the better part of this month wrangling Bruce’s problem children.

“Ah, it must be because I’m from the Midwest, Brucie, but where I come from, we value these things called manners.”

You uneducated jerk, he doesn’t say.

Danny leaned back in his chair, loosening his smile into something relaxed and sharp.

“…” Oh, boy, Danny could just hear the other man’s blood pressure rising. “What is the purpose of your visit, Mr. Fenton?”

“Relax, Brucie,” Danny sing-songed in a non-relaxing way. “I’m just here to discuss a possible merger that I’m sure you’ll agree to, and give you a couple of updates on your… wayward bird.”

He heard Bruce take a slow, controlled breath. “Very well. Where. Would. You. Like. To. Start.”

Danny ignored the gritted out sentence. He passed a contract to Bruce, who took it like he was handling a live bomb.

“Here’s the proposal, Mr. Wayne. Please, look it over.”

He watched as Bruce looked over the contract with an eagle eye before lowering it, scrutinizing Danny.

“This is… very fair.”

Danny raised an eyebrow. Of course it was fair. Danny wasn’t interested in exploiting the Waynes, despite them being very able to afford it.

He’d brought fifty manufacturing sites for pharmaceuticals, and offered up a building where both companies could send their workers. He provided top notch security- that definitely didn’t have any talons on staff, what were they talking about?- that came from his own security division. Granted, most of them were reformed and trained goons, but hey, creating jobs can only help Gotham’s economy and help break the cycle of poverty, right? Guaranteed by the Wayne name and, most importantly, uncompromised medicine that was accessible to everyone would be a damn good start. He’d also have Penguin’s empire to distribute it to those who couldn’t make it to a clinic or a store, and there were plans in there to work with and establish contracts with Gotham’s welfare department. Well… once Danny finished replacing them with people who wouldn’t try to take a cut of the funds and actually cared about the people. He was thinking… the multitudes of poor grad students and parents that need income. He’s in the process of building childcare centers and…

It’s a good thing he managed to save money from the taxes (thank you, Gotham’s morally ambiguous tax experts that were in desperate need for clients! He could do it himself but having a team of accountants at the ready was seriously so helpful.) because ancients knows the government weren’t about to step into Gotham and help the people here. He needs so much money to pull all of this shit off and a lot of it has to be clean.

Danny inwardly sighed and marked another thing onto his to do list.

Make money laundering fronts.



“Of course, Mr. Wayne. You didn’t think I’d come in here demanding money, did you?”

“I considered it.”

“I am, in fact, trying to help Gotham. You might not agree with my methods, but I’d rather not damage Wayne Enterprises when it’s doing so much to help the people.”

Ugh, he was doing too much work. Danny just wanted to- hah- chill at home and read bed time stories to his kids.

Bruce Wayne, the specific blend between Brucie and Batman, regarded him silently. Danny felt like he went up a few notches in the respect ladder.

Nice.

“You’re a criminal.”

“Says the man in the bat-suit breaking into places and assaulting people.”

Bruce’s hands spasmed around the contract. Danny smiled at him, taking a sip of the coffee they’d prepared. Oo, nice!

“Ah, I heard you’re adopting- pardon, fostering- Tim Drake. Getting empty nest syndrome, Brucie?” He slipped back into using Bruce’s first name. The proposal was formal. This… was very much not.

“What about it?”

“That’s very kind of you. Speaking of which, well, of your birds, I was wondering if you remembered what I asked you to do.” Danny continued, not giving Bruce a chance to reply. “Didn’t I ask for you to keep your birds in line, Brucie?”

The CEO straightened even further, form filling out to be Batman’s imposing figure. “I did.”

“No, you didn’t. Do you know where your charge is, right now? No, not the formerly dead one,” Danny tilted his head, smile shrinking.

“Don’t you dare do anything to Tim. I swear, if you even lay a hand on a strand of his hair, I’ll-”

“Sit your Armani clad ass down, Bruce.” Danny snapped. “Your son’s in your office. I don’t harm children, and your assumptions are deeply insulting. Threaten me again, Bruce, and I’ll make sure you know exactly how much I know about your birds, your cousin, and the commissioner’s daughter.”

Bruce snarled but leashed his anger just enough to sit back down. He itched to go check on Tim, but leaving a threat like Phantom unwatched felt inherently wrong.

“Your other son,” Danny continued. “Is doing quite well. He’s learning that he has hobbies again. He’s actually working under me, you know.”

“He’s what.”

Oh, yeah, that tracks. It figured that Jason wouldn’t tell Bruce about anything. He’s still conflicted about his death. Danny got it.

“Ah, that’s precious information. You’ll have to offer something of equal value if you want to know. There is, on the other hand, a piece of information I’ll give you for free.”

Danny paused for the dramatic effect. It was lost on Bruce, the ultimate drama queen of this world.

“The League of Assassins are hanging around Hotham lately. It’s getting tedious, getting rid of them. I suggest talking to your old flame, you know, with words and what little communication skill you’ve got rattling around in your noggin to get them to pull back. Her interest is… unnaturally focused on Jason.”

Danny read the dark agreement swimming about Bruce’s face and inclined his head. “Should negotiations fail, rest assured that Jason will be protected.”

“…Thank you.”

“You are most welcome. Go ahead and discuss the contract with Mr. Fox, I am sure you’ll find little problems with it. Ah,” Danny stood up, fixing his suit jacket. “And you should probably check up on Timothy. He’s probably having a great time in your office, Mr. Wayne.”

“I’ll see you out.”

“Of course.”

Having Batman escorting him out should probably be more intimidating.

Danny stood in the elevator, waiting for Bruce’s contemplative silence to put itself into words.

Sure enough, “What… what kind of hobbies does Jason have now?”

“I’d tell you to ask him, but you two aren’t on speaking terms, are you? He likes books, of course, but recently, he’s found an interest in glass blowing. He made quite a bit of progress on his attempts at sun catchers.”

“I see.”

Well, Danny’s not about to step on that landmine any more than he has to.

——

“Danny.”

“Oh, hey, Jason. Sit down, we were about to have dinner.”

Jason clambered into the window. Danny sighed. He had a door, but by the way Jason never used it, it was like the door didn’t exist.

“Mind telling me why the old bastard showed up on my rooftops with a bunch of glass and glassblowing tools?”

Danny smiled. “No idea.”

“Uh huh.”

Danny placed a hand on his chest and put on his best woe-is-me expression. The teen’s face twitched in annoyance. “Doubt? At me? Why, I never!”

A bread roll thwacked him in the face.

[caffeinatedvigilantewriter]

So Danny is older, and lives in Gotham as a mechanic (he could be a We mechanic, a JLA mechanic, whatever) and eventually, he starts dating Bruce Wayne.

Now, Danny knows the Wayne at the bats, it’s kinda hard to hide your vigilantism from a former vigilante. But Danny doesn’t mention it, he knows the dangerous of telling your loved ones.

Jazz is alive and a therapist is Coast City (Jazz x Hal? Could that work? Idk too much about the green lanterns). Dan is undercover to investigate pools of corrupted ectoplasm that’s guarded by an assassin cult, and Dani is still traveling the world, not for pleasure, but for the Realms.

Dani doesn’t age. It’s a side effect of being a clone. She destabilized one to many times and now her ghost half won’t let her age so she won’t die.

Dani can’t exactly settle down in a city likes the others. She looks 12. And while her siblings would take care of her in a heartbeat, she needs to fill her obsession of history and adventure.

So, she starts hunting for old artifacts, especially the magic ones. It’s a great way to learn about history and get a sense of adventure.

She’s been doing this for a couple years, building a name for herself and she gotten very good. (Keep in mind she only looks 12, but she’s actually like 33 mentally and intellectually)

Eventually, she crosses paths with a bat while searching for an artifact. (Even better if its Duke. We need more Duke. Probably won’t work with Cass, we’ll use Duke for the prompt, but can be switched out)

Obviously, Duke is kinda confused as to why a 12 yo is going after a dangerous magic artifact in the middle of but-fuck nowhere and offers to take her to Gotham and drops her off there after taking the artifact.

Dani knows better, she was going to refuse, but the realized she could take this as a free ride. So she agrees.

The reach Gotham and go their separate ways, and Duke goes home immediately, didn’t even take the time to tell anyone about the girl. but when Duke is at home hanging with their civilian stepdad, Danny gets a call and says he’s inviting his younger sister over

Bruce: Jazz? Jazz is older that you

Danny: nope! I have another sister!

Everyone: ???

Bruce: how comes we never meet her?

Danny: you have! She was at the wedding! But you’ll see her again don’t worry! She doesn’t visit often so I’m excited!

They arrives, the bat opens the door and Dani walks in.

Danny: Dani!!

Dani: Danny!!

So people are confused, Duke is like omg my aunt is an artifact hunter?? while everyone else is like omg my aunt is younger than me??

Eventually, Danny opens her backpack and goes:

Dani: so I was in *insert random place in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere* and found this! *pulls out artifact* I thought you would like so I brought it for you!

Danny: aww, thanks Dani, you shouldn’t have

Duke, who put that artifact in the cave for study: 👁️👄👁️

And Dani gives them a wink.

Duke isn’t going to take that lying down and attempts to find out Dani’s secrets while shes thwarting him at every turn.

Dani stays at the manor for a while, but nobody believe Duke when he tries warning them of Dani, because Duke didn’t tell anyone about the artifact

Things become even more alarming when Danny also start thwarting him, despite not know the family secret. (Danny thinks that Duke is onto the family secret.)

Cue crack, angst, fluff, whatever your heart desires.

[timmydraker]

Tim accidently referring to the Joker as Dad but those who know about Joker Jr aren’t present and so everyone is left with the ‘realisation’ that Tim is the son of the biggest nightmare to their family.

It’s probably Jason and Steph, her there to bother Tim but Jason went to the manor for food and the two naturally started arguing. Maybe Jason tells Tim to stop costing on his case and prove a point be made against blonde, but Tim just offhandedly goes, “Later, I think my dad broke out of Arkham again but the guards aren’t doing anything. Maybe they’re in on it…”

The two present naturally look at each other with confusion and for the first time stop bickering to peak over his shoulder and see what his case is because, holy shit Tim had a villain for a dad and didn’t tell us? Only to see numerous photos of the Joker in his cell and many reports over the last week of how he’s been behaving and Jason…

Steph pushes the man out of the room when she sees his face go from frozen fear to anger, thinking it’s towards Tim and his secrecy and, while she totally gets that, now isn’t the time.

Though when they get into the Jason starts a rant about how Bruce and Dick should have told him that the monster had a child, even if that child wasn’t Tim! Jason protects kids! Did they think he’d hurt him just because of who his father is?

No!

If anything, he’d become the kids full time body guard to stop that mad man from making Tim into another version of himself!

The two naturally go to tell the others, pulling Damian, Cass and Duke into a mostly unused room and telling them what they discovered, all while Tim stays in the library working on his case.

Cass is beyond worried but also confused because he doesn’t seem to have any physical characteristics of the Joker or Harley, but maybe the mother is different? Perhaps it’s still Janet and either she had a fling with the Joker or something far worse, which makes the young girl enraged on the woman’s behalf.

Damian makes a comment about him killing Tim, not in a serious manner but more as an option, but Duke shuts it down, saying that having a villain for a parent doesn’t mean anything about who you will be. He points out those in the family of that nature and other heroes like Superboy.

When asked why they didn’t get Dick or Babs involved, Jason says they defiantly know and lied about it.

It’s only after another three hours of working that Tim catches himself referring to the Joker as dad and shuts his laptop, making his way to Bruce’s room to hide under the older man’s bed like he usually does when that happens, only to overhear what his siblings are saying.

Tim presses his ear against the door to hear better.

“If that maniac had a kid, surely he’d have told everyone he had an heir or something.” That’s Steph’s voice, filled with worry that only he and Cass could detect as she hides it under a whiney tone.

Jason is next to respond, “maybe he doesn’t know? I mean, did Tim ever even interacted with him before he became Robin?”

It doesn’t take much more than that for Tim to realise that he must have been talking aloud again or absently answered someone earlier and misspoke in front of them.

Panic fills him as he avoids telling Bruce when he gets bad, even if it’s just a small thing, because the older man will start of being a concerned parent then go into Batman mode and only just stop himself from putting Tim in the confinement cell. Sure Tim came up with the idea of the cell so he wouldn’t hurt anyone if his conditioning got too bad, but he’s learnt the signs. He’s not a mindless drone, he still knows who he is and doesn’t hear someone talking to him or anything like that.

He just… sometimes forgets the Joker hurt him.

It’s not Tim’s fault that memories of watching TV with him and Harley, tucked between them with a big bowl of ice cream felt better than most memories of his real parents.

But he knows it’s wrong, always comes back to calling the Joker his enemy.

Bruce just doesn’t get that.

Tim hears them talk a bit more, theories about who his mother might be, if Tim is safe at the manor, if Joker knows he has a son…

Opening the door, Tim stands there and stares at them as all eyes snap to him in alarm.

He doesn’t let anybody speak, cutting them all off quickly, “He’s not my dad. Go the cave and search for file number 26557933301-JJ and put in the code AGELAST, all caps.”

With that he turns and leaves, walking at first before running to Bruce’s room to hide.

He goes to family dinner and pretends not to notice the quietness or how Jason is still there, eating his food quietly and waiting for the ball to drop.

Naturally, Damian is the one to say what he wants first, “So why is okay that Tim shot the joker but I got in trouble for stabbing Bane?”

Everyone groans.