#Justice League Oneshot

[prismuffin]

How do you think John Constantine would react to a Male Reader lighting his cigarette with John's lit cigarette?

They were just standing outside talking about the job they were on, and Reader goes to light his cig when he finds that he forgot his lighter. So holds the back of John's head to keep him still, as he gently touches the tip of his cigarette to John's. Moving away once it's lit, talking like it's normal for them both. Even though, it wasn't, and it was a clear sign of flirting.

OOP- no cause thats sooooo wait- 😭ok her cause I think that-

He’s staring you down like your crazy. Whatever was being talked about is forgotten. Slowly his brain starts catching up with him and he’s getting more and more flustered as the scene replays in his head. God forbid you’re maintaining eye contact while this is going down or he’s done for. Just gets loud as a defense mechanism and starts questioning what the fuck that was. You say you forgot your light and he just pulls out two immediately from his jacket. “You didn’t even think to fucking ask me you dumbass??” You shrugged and smirked because at this point his face was red and it was clearer that he was actually flustered and not mad. 100% can’t stop thinking about this even after you both are done hanging out.

———

Directory

[wolfsbanesparks]

📖!?!?!?????!!!!!

Hi!!!

Yet another idea I've not had the chance to write:

This is a series of stories rather than just one because i have done way way too much world building for it.

An expansion of my medieval fantasy AU incorporating as many aspects of DC as possible. Im working on The Kingdom of the Dark Knight which is the fantasy Batman origin for the world (and ties into my other oneshot Knight of Gotham) setting up the curse on Gotham and the political upheaval of the nation as Bruce in crowned King.

Then there's the Lantern Corps as a naval fleet with magic lanterns + enchanted rings that patrol the seas for pirates and monsters.

And Kryptonians as endangered Dragonborn species from a fallen kingdom. Clark raised by farmers of a neighboring kingdom while Kara was kept in a magical stasis for years.

And the JL as a knights of the round table situation going on quests to unite the lands and protect the world from magical threats

Atlantis and Themyscira are largely the same since they are already fantastical nations.

And of course Billy (as first shown in my fic the Wizard’s Apprentice) is a young wizard learning magic and fighting monsters. He's going to find his long lost sister (raised by a noble family) and become the host of a divine lightning spirit (Cap aka Thavma) and use illusion spells to appear older to join the JL.

[batboysoneshots]

Vampires? (AU)

Hey its been literally months since I updated anything so here is a request.

Request: Can you make a fic where the Justice League realizes that the Bat-Family are vampires (wait and see if you understand me) please

(I literally bought DC VS Vampires (the graphic novel) yesterday)

Third person pov...

The Justice League Watchtower was abuzz with an unusual tension, a palpable unease that even Superman's sunny disposition couldn't entirely dispel.

It wasn't a villainous threat looming, at least not in the traditional sense. It was something far more insidious, something that gnawed at the edges of their understanding of their closest allies: the Bat-Family.

It started subtly, with observations that were too easily dismissed as quirks. Bruce Wayne, known for his nocturnal habits, seemed to avoid sunlight with an almost religious fervor.

Dick Grayson, his former ward and current Nightwing, had a startlingly fast healing rate after a recent encounter with Deathstroke.

Jason Todd, the volatile Red Hood, was seen avoiding garlic bread during a casual pizza night – a detail that, in hindsight, was a glaring red flag.

Tim Drake, Known as Red Robin and his quick strategies, was seen managing to talk down one of the villains thugs from setting off a large bomb.

Damian Wayne, the youngest Robin known for his temper and finest when fighting was seen taking down a man that was three times his size and weight with out breaking a sweat.

Then, there were the whispered rumors from Gotham's underworld. Whispers of a bat-like figure moving with impossible speed, of a crimson streak that materialized and vanished in the blink of an eye. Whispers that were quickly dismissed as the ramblings of paranoid criminals.

This confused and worried the Justice League, "There's something…different about them," Diana had said, her voice low, her brow creased with concern, during a tense meeting in the Watchtower.

At first, the others were skeptical. Superman, ever the optimist, believed there was a logical explanation, some advanced technology or a new breed of Gotham criminal responsible for the strange occurrences.

But Diana's convictions, coupled with the increasing number of unusual observations, began to chip away at their doubts.

Flash, with his super speed and ability to traverse time, was tasked with gathering evidence.

His quick trips to various crime scenes and Gotham's back alleys revealed a pattern—strange bite marks on victims, an unnatural speed during attacks, and a complete lack of any trace of conventional weapons.

The pieces slowly fell into place, building a grim picture that painted the Bat-Family, their own allies and friends, as something far more terrifying.

"Vampires," Green Lantern said, his voice heavy with disbelief. "The Bat-Family? It seems impossible."

His words, though spoken in stunned astonishment, echoed the sentiments of everyone in the room.

Superman then spoke after a moment of silence as the revelation of what the Batfamily where sunk in. "...We should confront them about it...just so we are curtain" he tells them, his blue eyes lookong around at the rest of the heroes.

Wonder Woman, Flash, Green Lantern, Martian Manhunter all give a nod of agreement with the Kryptonians words, the Justice League take the zeta tubes teleporting down into the Batcave.

As the five of them step off their arw greeted with a surprising sight, Batman was sat the batcomputer chair turned towards the Zeta rubes, Beside him stood Knightwing arms crossed as he leant against the chair.

Red Hood was standing in the shadows a book in his left hand that he was reading, Red Robin was sat to the right on the floor tapping away on his laptop.

Robin was infront of the zeta tubes, as if they knew the Justic League would come down to the Batcave, they watch the Heroes as they step off.

Superman steps forward his mouth open to speak. "...Bruce-" He's cut off by Red Hoods voice. "...bets off..you win Dickiebird" came the teens voice as he continued reading.

Nightwing cheers from his spot against Batman's chair. "..Hah! Told you...you three owe me 10 dollars each" he tells his little brothers who each groan and grumble annoyed before digging into their pockets and tossing the bills at the man's face.

Nightwing only grins as he grabs his money, Batman then speaks. "...how did you find out?" He asks the stunned heroes, Flash then speaks. "Well...it all fits in, avoidance to sunlight, speed, strength, fast healing" explains the speeders as they watch the Batfamily infront of them.

Robin speaks up watching the league. "...you aren't as idiotic as I thought then" he tells them as the Bat-Family smirk at being found out, they weren't worried about the league finding out, they just hoped that the heroes would've found out sooner.

Nightwing smirks. "...Any questions?" He asks before they get bombarded with questions from the League which they take turns answering, it was a strange conversation but in the end it made sense why they Batfamily were as mysterious as they were.

The end!

Hoped you liked this one shot so sorry for thr wait I know its been months since I last updated, sorry for any grammar and Spelling mistakes.

Requests are open!

Word count: 875

[knightbun]

As a follow-up to my other robot post that made it big, I made a favorite character bingo exclusively about characters that are robots/AI/etc. It was fun! There were a few I wanted to include but didn’t end up doing so, this was mainly my personal favorites. Feel free to fill this out, I wanna know how many of these guys people know

[thebabygronckle]

LOOKING FOR A FIC

it was a batfamily fic

i think the one im thinking of was a oneshot in a book of oneshots??

but this SPECIFIC one shot was entirely in kon's (superboy) perspective at titans tower and red hood breaks in and red robin is running from him

kon thinks jason is having another psychotic break or something just to find out that the batkids are playing some fucked up version of tag?

and after tim goes to get his target jason whirls on kon and goes "whats this about you having a crush on tim"

[batfam-fanfics]

Contrary to Popular Belief by iquirms

1 Chapter - 5093 words

Whoever had the wonderful idea to bring every single team together for a day of "bonding" at the Watchtower needed to be checked for any mental injuries. Or, physical ones whenever Bruce found out who is was. This was going to be a bad idea. He knew that, not because he had yet to share his relation to a few other teams leaders and/or members, but because the annoncement didn't specify the uniform was necassarry. And like the demons they were, his children arrived out of uniform.

In matching crop tops.

[ladygatuna]

I thought of a great uniform for Veronica, I wanted something expressive, something that said her personality, after all, she still has youth.

Her outfit is red and black, the colors of a black widow, the same one that stung her. The red part shines, giving a more mature image, after all, she doesn't have a scary appearance by far.

He's technological, after all, she had some love affairs, with people who understood that, and she's not stupid either. Having a high level of studies in this area, she simply combined the useful with the pleasant.

She loved that man!

She has those same claws as the iron spider costume, a little bigger, making her scary. She also managed to get them to shock at her command, with enough voltage to knock a person out.

One of her boyfriends created an intelligence similar to J.A.R.V.I.S, which she nicknamed ARACHNE, because she thought it was a cool name. She serves as a personal diary, which stores each Villain that has been through her journey.

I thought about it here, more or less…

(I couldn't find the artist, if anyone knows, please send me)

[lizardboiii]

INTRODUCTION•MASTER LIST

⋄ ｡･:*˚:✧｡⋄ ｡･:*˚:✧｡⋄ ｡･:*˚:✧｡⋄ ｡･:*˚:✧｡⋄ ｡･:*˚:✧｡⋄ ｡･:*˚:✧｡⋄

Hi everyone! My name is Lizardboi and I’ve decided to expand my works from AO3 to Tumblr! I plan on using this account to create mostly one shots. But most importantly, take requests<3.

Check out my bio for the fandoms I am most comfortable writing characters for. I am open to trying other fandoms but I can’t promise I will be able too.

As of right now I don’t have any one shots completed but I do have a master list planned. I also plan on posting my already created works from AO3.

Warnings!!!

A lot of my works use NSFW content and are for 18+ ONLY. I strongly discourage minors from interacting with this page.

MASTERLISTS

Last updated: 3/25

Total Works: 3

┃JUJUTSU KAISEN

┃ONE PIECE

┃DCU

Anyone (18+) is welcome to request other characters/fandoms! The ones I have listed at the moment I’m pretty hyper-fixed on so you have a better chance of me taking your request. NSFW requests will only be considered if your page clearly lists you are a legal adult.

RULES/LIMITS (WILL NOT WRITE):

•P*dophilia

•Piss/Scat/Vomit kinks

•N*crophillia

•Incest

•Vore

•Others may be added as requests come in

WILL WRITE:

•R*pe/noncon

•Unhealthy Relationships

•Adultery

•Large Age Gaps (as long as they are both above 18)

•Multi Partners (Threesomes, etc.)

•SFW

•NSFW

•Other Taboos I Have Not Listed You Can Message Me!

Thank you for visiting, I can’t wait to start filling this master list! Please visit my AO3 for already posted content!

⋄ ｡･:*˚:✧｡⋄ ｡･:*˚:✧｡⋄ ｡･:*˚:✧｡⋄ ｡･:*˚:✧｡⋄ ｡･:*˚:✧｡⋄ ｡･:*˚:✧｡⋄

[lapseinrecs]

Detainment

By DragonflyxParodies @dragonflyxparodies

On Archive of Our Own

Status: Complete; Oneshot; 3,679 words

Summary: “Do you beat your children?” Bruce asks, voice flat and odd in a way unlike any Hal has ever heard before, and Hal’s blood runs cold, and – Other Batman’s jaw clenches. He does not answer immediately. The whole fucking League visibly draws back. In which Bat has instituted very strict measures for handling alternate versions of himself, and the Justice League finds out why.

My thoughts: Ooo this is such a way of doing Batman. This is the Battinson Batman, I think.

[ispeacetoomuchtoaskfor]

Oh gosh y e s.

This is perfect and I shall have to write up some cryptid Batfam angsting and terrifying the JL tomorrow

idea: batman and the robins never acknowledge that there have been different robins. like they all act that there's only been one and that they're the same person basically.

Justice League who's used to teen dick not kid jason: who is this child?

Batman: what do you mean, it's robin.

-

Batman and Tim walking through the watchtower:

Justice League who remembers robin literally dying: ...*side eye*...

-

Flash: batman… who is this?

Batman: robin. you’ve met before. several times.

Flash: no, i met a black haired boy. this is a blonde girl!

Batman: her name is robin

-

Superman: it's time for you to explain. where are you getting all these children?

Batman: i have no idea what you're talking about.

Superman *pointing to damian*: who is this kid?!

Damian: i'm robin. i'm offended you would even ask that? don't you remember *proceeds to recite a story dick told him of his robin days*

[rizzanon]

Batdad brainrot

a bruce wayne and daughter! reader oneshot | m.list

Summary: your estranged father tries to connect with you in ways you didn’t expect him to

The argument had started as something small.

Bruce didn’t even remember what it was about. A minor disagreement, an offhand comment, something inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. It shouldn’t have escalated.

But it had.

And now, you weren’t speaking to him.

Well—not exactly. You weren’t avoiding him outright. You still responded when necessary, still showed up when he called, still acknowledged his presence. But it was different.

It was distant.

Mechanical.

Gone were the casual conversations, the random observations you used to share just to fill the silence. Gone were the moments when you’d tell him about something you found interesting, even when you knew he probably wouldn’t have much to say in response. Gone were the little efforts you made to connect—because no matter how much he had failed to meet you halfway, you had always tried.

And now you weren’t.

At first, Bruce Wayne had told himself it didn’t matter. That it was fine. He wasn’t someone who needed constant conversation, who thrived on interaction. He was used to silence. Preferred it, even.

But this wasn’t silence.

This was absence.

And it made something in him itch with discomfort.

Because suddenly, the manor felt empty in a way it never had before.

Bruce had never been good at fixing things that weren’t tangible.

A broken bone could be set. A wound could be stitched. A case could be solved, an enemy could be defeated, a mission could be completed. But this? This was different. There was no direct solution, no simple fix.

And he hated that.

Because every time Bruce saw you, he saw the way your shoulders stiffened. The way your expression remained carefully neutral, the way you answered only when necessary. The way you no longer sought him out, no longer attempted to start conversations, no longer tried—and the worst part was knowing that it was his fault.

He had spent so much time thinking he was protecting you by keeping his distance, by not indulging in sentimentality, by maintaining the walls he had built so carefully over the years. But all he had done was push you away.

And now, he was left with nothing but silence.

He thought about it more than he wanted to admit.

During patrol, during Justice League meetings, even when reviewing case files in the Batcave, his mind kept drifting back to the argument. Kept replaying it over and over, picking apart every word, every moment, trying to pinpoint the exact second he had gone wrong.

Bruce had always believed himself to be a man who thrived in silence. It was in silence that he observed, that he planned, that he found control.

But now, this silence—your silence—was unbearable.

He hadn’t realized just how much you filled the manor with your presence until it was gone. The absent chatter, the missing quips at the dinner table, the lack of commentary whenever you sat next to him in the Batcave, pretending to work while obviously keeping him company. You were avoiding him. Not just in passing, but with intent. And Bruce wasn’t used to that.

Bruce Wayne was many things, but when it came to being a father, he was painfully aware that he wasn’t the best. And now, that awareness was staring him in the face every time you walked past him without a word.

He didn’t realize how lost in thought he was until he felt someone watching him.

Bruce glanced up from the Batcomputer, already knowing who it was before he saw him.

Dick was leaning against the cave’s stone wall, arms crossed, brow raised. He had that look on his face—the one that meant he had been standing there for a while, the one that meant he was waiting for Bruce to acknowledge him first.

Bruce exhaled slowly. “Something you need?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Dick said, pushing off the wall and walking toward him. “You’ve been staring at the same screen for the past twenty minutes. Either you’re trying to solve the world’s hardest crime, or you’re brooding.”

Bruce frowned. “I don’t brood.”

Dick snorted. “Right. And Gotham is a peaceful city with low crime rates.”

Bruce ignored that.

There was a beat of silence before Dick leaned against the Batcomputer, tilting his head slightly. “So? What’s up?”

Bruce hesitated.

For a moment, he considered brushing it off. Telling him it was nothing. That he was just tired, or distracted, or caught up in work. But even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew Dick wouldn’t buy it.

And… maybe a part of him didn’t want to brush it off.

So, with some reluctance, he told him.

And by the time he was done, Dick was looking at him like he was the biggest idiot in the world.

“So, let me get this straight,” Dick said, arms crossed as he leaned against the Batcomputer. “You and (Name) got into an argument. She’s now giving you the silent treatment. And you’re freaking out.”

Bruce gave him a look. “I’m not—”

“Bruce,” he said slowly, “do you hear yourself right now?”

Bruce frowned. “…Yes?”

Dick exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re overthinking this.”

“I’m aware that’s what I do.”

“Yeah, with cases. Not with your daughter.”

Bruce didn’t respond, but the way his jaw tightened must have said enough, because Dick sighed and shook his head.

“There you go again,” he muttered. “Overanalyzing, scrutinizing, looking for some grand strategy when there isn’t one. She’s not you, Bruce. She doesn’t think like you, doesn’t work like you. So stop putting on the whole ‘Bruce Wayne’ act and trying to figure this out like it’s just another mission. Instead of thinking about how you would approach this, think about how she would.”

Bruce went still.

And just like that, his mind started turning again.

But this time, it wasn’t in the way he usually did.

This time, he wasn’t analyzing things from his own perspective—he was trying to see it from yours.

And that… changed things.

Over the next few days, Bruce found himself researching in a way he never had before.

He had read entire psychological profiles on some of the most complex minds in history. He had deciphered alien languages. He had cracked codes that entire intelligence agencies had failed to solve.

And yet nothing—nothing—prepared him for this.

It started with subtle observations. He paid closer attention to the things you watched, the things you laughed at, the things you scrolled through on your phone. He noted the words and phrases you used, the memes you sent in group chats (not that he snooped—he just happened to see them in passing), the trends you occasionally mentioned in conversation with your brothers and sister.

Then came the actual research.

Bruce Wayne was a detective. A strategist. A man who could crack the most encrypted codes, uncover the deepest secrets, solve the most impossible mysteries.

So surely, surely, understanding Gen Z slang couldn’t be that difficult.

He was wrong.

At first, it was just simple terminology. He started with the basics—words like “rizz,” “mid,” “slay,” and “delulu.” But then he found himself spiraling into deeper territory, encountering phrases that made absolutely no logical sense. “Ate and left no crumbs”? “Touching grass”? “Gyatt”?

What the hell was a “skibidi toilet”? Why was “no cap” a thing? Why did “mid” sound like an insult? What was the difference between “based” and “cringe”? Why did some of these phrases feel like they were meant to be grammatically incorrect?

He had never felt older in his entire life.

But Bruce wasn’t deterred. If anything, the confusion only made him more determined.

So, he studied. He took notes. He tried to analyze sentence structures, context, and usage patterns. He even ventured onto TikTok, only to be immediately bombarded with an overwhelming amount of fast-paced videos, most of which he did not understand.

But he persisted.

His first attempt at incorporating this newfound knowledge into conversation came during dinner.

The table was mostly silent—just the occasional clink of silverware, the occasional page turn from Tim’s book, the occasional soft exhale from Cassandra.

You were sitting across from Bruce, scrolling through your phone, expression unreadable.

And Bruce, in a desperate attempt to bridge the gap that had grown between you, cleared his throat and said, “So… I hear that a lot of things are… bussin’ nowadays.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Tim looked up from his book, squinting in suspicion. Damian paused mid-bite, staring as if Bruce had grown a second head.

And you?

You just slowly lifted your eyes from your phone, staring at your father with the most deadpan, unreadable expression he had ever seen.

“…What?” you asked flatly.

Bruce maintained his composure. “I was simply acknowledging that many things these days are… as you would say, based….?”

Your stare somehow became more bewildered.

“Father,” Damian said, voice wary. “Are you feeling unwell?”

Tim looked vaguely concerned. “Did you hit your head during patrol?”

Bruce frowned. “No. I—”

But before he could even attempt to recover, you sighed, shook your head, and went right back to your phone.

Bruce realized, then and there, that his first attempt had been a complete failure

So, he regrouped.

His second attempt happened in the Batcave.

You had come downstairs to grab something, and that’s when you saw it—Bruce sitting at the Batcomputer, scrolling.

At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Until you got closer.

And realized that your father was—oh god—scrolling through TikTok.

“…Dad.” you said slowly.

Bruce stiffened.

When he turned, there was a brief moment where he looked like he was debating whether or not to close the tab. But then, after a second of hesitation, he exhaled and faced you fully.

“There’s something I wanted to ask you,” he said seriously.

You raised a brow. “Okay?”

Bruce turned back to the screen.

“Why,” he starts, “do so many of these… influencers believe that Batman is an alpha male?”

You blinked.

He gestured toward the screen, where a video was paused on some random guy in sunglasses talking about “how Batman embodies the peak sigma mindset.”

“They claim that I—he—operates on some kind of grindset mentality,” Bruce continued, sounding vaguely irritated. “That the reason Batman fights crime is due to some misguided sense of superiority rather than a moral obligation. Some of them even say he ‘gives off major red pill energy.’”

You cringed.

Bruce’s frown deepened. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose. “B, please stop scrolling on that side of TikTok.”

“I didn’t intend to,” Bruce said. “It just happened to appear on my feed while I was doing research.”

“…Research?”

“For… communication purposes.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What kind of communication purposes?”

Bruce hesitated.

And then, in what was possibly the most botched attempt at Gen Z slang to ever exist, he slowly said, “I’m just trying to… get that W… and not be an L father. No cap.”

Silence.

Pure, unfiltered, incomprehensible silence.

You stared at him, utterly speechless.

Bruce held your gaze, waiting.

Tim, who had just entered the cave, immediately turned around and left.

It took a full ten seconds for you to finally find your voice.

“…What the actual fuck did you just say?”

“Language.”

You were baffled. Was your father hearing what he was saying??

Before you could respond, an alert suddenly blared through the Batcomputer, signaling an Arkham breakout.

And just like that, he was saved by the bell.

Bruce quickly turned back to the screen, scanning the situation, already shifting into mission mode. But before he left, he spared you one last glance.

And, in what was perhaps his most disastrous attempt yet, he said,

“Stay woke.”

Then, without another word, he swept out of the cave.

Leaving you standing there, completely and utterly at a loss for words.

You had no idea what the hell just happened.

And honestly? You weren’t sure you wanted to know.

But the next day, Bruce made one last attempt.

Bruce Wayne had faced some of the most dangerous criminals in the world. He had been thrown through walls, stabbed, shot at, and even died once (technically). He had outmaneuvered gods, masterminds, and creatures of the night.

And yet, standing outside your bedroom door, debating whether or not to knock, he found himself hesitating.

This was ridiculous.

He shouldn’t feel hesitant about this. He was your father. He had faced literal apocalypses without flinching—why was it so difficult to face you?

Was it because of his failed attempts at getting through to you these past few days?

Probably.

But he had committed to this. He wasn’t going to back down now.

So he took a deep breath, steeled himself, and knocked on your door.

A pause.

Then—“Come in.”

He opened the door, stepping inside with careful, measured movements. His eyes swept over the room instinctively, cataloging every detail—your posture, your expression, the way your fingers curled slightly where they rested on your crossed arms.

You were stiff, but not defensive. Guarded, but not hostile.

Not angry. Not anymore.

But you were distant. And that was worse.

Bruce had always relied on presence—on being there, on the sheer weight of existence as a means of maintaining connection. But now he understood that presence wasn’t the same as attention.

He hadn’t given you that. Not the way you had given it to him. Not the way you deserved.

Bruce cleared his throat, trying to find the words. “I…. would like to formally apologize for being the… goat of bad parenting. That was not very…. rizz of me.”

You blinked.

What?

A slow, deliberate blink, your expression frozen in something between shock and utter disbelief.

Bruce noted the way your brows twitched slightly, the way your lips parted just enough to indicate that you had words but were currently incapable of forming them.

Good. That meant you were listening.

He continued, tone steady. “I have, in fact, been caught in 4K being a cringe father. And that’s on me. Major L.”

The silence that followed was excruciating.

You tilted your head ever so slightly, like you were trying to determine if this was some elaborate joke.

Maybe it did seem like that to you.

Bruce pressed forward. “No cap, I have been acting incredibly mid. Probably even giga-mid.”

Still silence.

The twitch in your eye was microscopic but noticeable. The corner of your mouth jerked—barely, almost imperceptibly, but Bruce caught it.

He nodded, as if steeling himself, mentally adjusting his approach. “This whole situation has been, dare I say… a ratio.”

That was what did it.

You snorted.

A small sound, abrupt, barely audible—but it was real.

Encouraging. He could work with this.

“I have realized,” he said solemnly, “that I have been lacking fatherly rizz. A skill issue, if you will.”

Your entire body curled inward as you let out a strangled, disbelieving laugh, hands flying to cover your face as if that would somehow make this entire situation less insane.

Bruce analyzed every detail—the way your shoulders shook, the way your hands trembled slightly as you pressed them against your face, the way you leaned just a fraction forward, no longer so closed off.

Progress.

Finally, gasping for breath, you looked at him with pure horror. “Dad. Please tell me you’re not serious.”

“I am always serious,” Bruce said gravely. “This is an earnest attempt at slayful parenting.”

You made a sound that could only be described as a dying gremlin noise.

Bruce noted the way you hunched further over, like your body was physically rejecting what was happening, and yet—you were still laughing.

You peeked up again, eyes shining with barely restrained mirth. “Dad, what the hell are you saying?”

He furrowed his brows. “Am I not eating right now?”

You lost it again.

Bruce waited patiently as you continued to laugh into your hands.

Finally, wiping at your eyes, you shook your head. “Oh my god, Dad. What is this. Did Alfred put you up to this?”

“No,” Bruce said. “This was all Dick’s idea, somewhat.”

“Of course it was,” you groaned, still grinning. “I knew he was behind this somehow.”

Bruce hesitated, then walked over, sitting at the edge of your bed.

He saw it in the way you met his eyes, in the way your posture was looser, in the way you were actually looking at him now, rather than through him.

“I’m sorry.”

Your smile dimmed, just slightly. “…For what?”

“For the argument, for not listening. And for not being as emotionally available as I should be.”

You searched his face.

Bruce let you.

You studied him, guarded again. But then—softer, you asked, “Why are you trying now?”

“Because you tried first,” Bruce admitted. “And I never met you halfway.”

That got you.

He saw it in the flicker of your expression, in the way your fingers twitched slightly, in the way your gaze softened just enough for him to catch it.

Then, after a long moment, you huffed. “…Is that why you were acting so weird these past few days?”

Bruce nodded. “I will admit… it was incredibly painful.”

You laughed again, but it was softer now. Easier.

Bruce felt something in his chest loosen.

You sighed, stretching your arms behind your head. “…Fine. I forgive you. But please—never say fatherly rizz again.”

Bruce placed a hand on his chest. “I make no promises.”

You groaned dramatically, flopping onto your bed.

But you were smiling.

And for Bruce, that was more than enough.

literally based off my parents trying to act like they understand gen z slang infront of me and my sister LOL 😭 hope you guys enjoyed this 🫶

taglist (open): @k1arar3 @kingshitonly @rainnyydaysworld @ceridwyn3 @darkfaethedestroyer @blueiones @strwberryglass @lithiumval @thephantomdanny @eli-mayhaveatencats @rockyeatrock @dreaming-of-the-reality @shirp-collector-of-fixations @gneepgnorpsneepsnorp @skerbablo | ask to be added <3

[prismuffin]

I just thought of the most harlarious ask.

What if John Constantine had a black cat begin to follow him.

Like how cats are know to choice humans and refuse to leave them alone. John is just finishing up a job, and decided to head down to the pub.

While he was there, a cat started playing with his trench coat, after a while jumping up on his lap. Just as content as can be. John trying to reasoning with the small beast that being around him isn't a good idea, but in good cat fashion it doesn't care. Happy to get attention.

PLEASEEEE THIS IS SO FUNNY- Sorry it took a minute I’ve been drawing slutty men all day 😭 anyways I think—

John would be so ????

First of all, why is there a random cat in the pub and second of all why won’t it leave him alone.

“Oi, get your fluffy paws off me fucking coat!”

He sounds a little crazy yelling to this cat in a pub but let’s face it, it’s not the weirdest thing he’s done/been caught doing. After a while of wrestling his coat out of the cats paws he’s a bit pissy that this cat still hasn’t left him alone. He’d take another sip of his whiskey, sighing a bit as he holds his coat away from the feline only to feel something hit lap. His eyes shoot down to see the cat now resting on his lap, kneading at it a bit before fully laying down. He just stares for a second before clicking his tongue.

Part of him wonders if it’s a familiar because why would a normal cat be around him for this long. Slowly throughout the night he’d just become more and more desensitized to the cat and after a while he’s just petting it lightly as he sips his drink. A little company isn’t so bad, especially since it’s company that can’t speak and try and talk him out of drinking.

———

Directory

[somnoir]

Inspired by that one person who continued a fic after their best friend died...

Jason Todd had an ao3 account. Jason Todd had balls of steel and logged into the batcomputer. (Trying to figure out his username but I keep thinking BlueBird or CrimeAlleyBoy)

Bruce was well aware of this. He didn't think to log it out of the batcomputer, keeping the tab open just for Jason. He's read some of that stuff that Jason has written (mind you, the kid was an avid defender and writer of WonderBat). He found it rather cute and it wasn't like Bruce has never read fanfiction about himself (both Bruce and Batman).

And Jason? He wasn't really sure if Bruce knew but he didn't really care that much. And besides, being Robin made sure he was prepared for anything the Ao3 curse was going to throw at him. If that damn curse sent Riddler then his fist would be the solution.

There were around 20 fics in that damn account, ranging from his OTP that was WonderBat, some SuperBat, and the crack fics of Bruceman. (Jason would never allow himself to tell Dick his username but he sure as hell has his older brother beta read all the Bruceman fics. That man was one of the OGs and he wouldn't disgrace his brother.)

He avoids the Ao3 curse until it appears in the form of the Joker.

When Jason dies, Bruce keeps the tab open, making sure that the account doesn't log off. Because that was a part of his son. (When he missed Jason a tad too much at times, he'd read one of those ridiculous fics that would make his two eldest sons laugh.)

When it's around two months after Jason's death, Bruce gains the courage to post an announcement on his son's account, making sure his fans were well informed and not anticipating for the next chapter.

I'm sorry to announce that this account will no longer be posting any updates. This is the author's father and I must unfortunately inform you that my son has passed away. Thank you for being there for him and reading his stories...

The post is along those lines.

(Tim was an avid reader of that account and was utterly devastated when Robin's death was further confirmed through this post. Yes he knew this was Jason's account. Of course he did!)

But Jason comes back from the dead.

Sees his account again after getting out of the league. Sees Bruce's announcement and maybe it makes him feel a little better.

But Jason's a menace and the day he started posting fics was the day he vowed that he wouldn't let the Ao3 curse take him. He even announced that to his readers in his first story (WonderBat obviously)

He posts an entire fic of oneshots consisting of Batman with numerous members of the Justice League. In his end notes, it says:

Not even death can stop me. I write WonderBat in the face of Death and told him to fuck off.

The next few posts consist of Batman/Justice League, even a few Bruce/Justice League (yes, that includes Batman). And Bruce, with Jason's account still logged into the batcomputer, is mortified when he sees Tim shamelessly read a 5+1 fic of BatLantern on that huge ass screen.

[dreamersworldduh]

INSUFFERABLE

• DAMIAN WAYNE x MALE READER

SUMMARY — Damian Wayne is infamous for his arrogance, icy demeanor, and undeniable lethality—a product of his strict upbringing and assassin’s training. In stark contrast, Y/N Prince embodies optimism, determination, and an infectious positivity that lights up any room he enters. On the surface, they couldn’t be more different—two polar opposites in every way. Yet, beneath it all, they share one undeniable connection.

WARNING! Swearing.

WORDS! 9.3k

AUTHOR’S NOTE! This is for @dwelkisses— it was going to be a oneshot, however, I got an idea, so don’t worry this is only part one out of three! The next one is definitely spicy…i hope you enjoy!😉

NEXT PART! TWO.

Damian Wayne has always been defined by his personality—arrogant, cold, and undeniably lethal. From a young age, he carried the deadly discipline of an assassin, a legacy inherited from his upbringing in the League of Assassins and sharpened under his father, Batman. This demeanor didn't fade as he matured into adulthood; if anything, it became more pronounced. Damian was never one to engage in idle small talk or seek companionship outside the tight-knit circle of individuals he considered family. One of the rare exceptions to his guarded nature was Jon Kent, the son of Superman and Damian's closest friend.

Damian and Jon's friendship began when they were just kids—Jon was 10, and Damian 13. Despite their contrasting personalities, the two quickly became inseparable. Jon's optimistic and good-natured demeanor served as a counterbalance to Damian's stoicism and intensity. Over the years, their bond deepened, evolving into a brotherhood that Damian fiercely protected. To Damian, Jon wasn't just a friend; he was family, someone he trusted implicitly. Nothing—and no one—could shake the foundation of their relationship.

That is, until Y/N Prince entered their lives.

Y/N, the son of Wonder Woman, was a force to be reckoned with. By the time Damian and Jon were in their early twenties, both were firmly established as heroes in their own right. No longer sidekicks, Robin and Superboy had proven themselves valuable members of the Justice League, earning the respect of their legendary predecessors. It was during this time, as Damian and Jon were navigating their roles as newly minted full-fledged heroes, that Y/N stepped onto the scene. Taking up the mantle of Wonder Boy, Y/N joined the Justice League with a striking presence and a legacy just as formidable as theirs.

Y/N's arrival would alter the dynamic between Damian and Jon in ways neither of them anticipated. What began as an exciting addition to their world would soon challenge the unshakable bond they had shared for nearly a decade.

When Jon Kent first met Y/N Prince, the connection between them was immediate and undeniable. Jon, with his open heart and innate kindness, found himself drawn to Y/N's charisma and strong-willed nature. Y/N, much like his mother Wonder Woman, carried himself with a regal confidence and a sense of purpose that was hard to ignore. He had a sharp wit and a warmth that made him effortlessly likable, even among the most intimidating of heroes. The ease with which Jon and Y/N fell into conversation—playful banter one moment, deep discussions the next—only solidified the natural chemistry between them. It wasn't long before they began forming a close bond, one rooted in mutual respect and a shared passion for justice. Jon saw in Y/N someone who could inspire him, challenge him, and understand the complexities of their unique lives as the next generation of superheroes.

Damian Wayne, however, had an entirely different reaction to Y/N. From the very first moment they crossed paths, Damian found himself bristling at Y/N's presence. To him, Y/N was everything he couldn't stand in a person: confident to the point of arrogance, outspoken, and unapologetically bold. While others might have found Y/N's charm and light-hearted attitude refreshing, Damian saw it as infuriating. Y/N's tendency to challenge him, both in strategy and personality, grated on Damian's nerves. He viewed Y/N as reckless, overly self-assured, and too quick to speak his mind without considering the consequences—a stark contrast to Damian's disciplined and calculated demeanor. It didn't help that Y/N seemed to have a knack for pushing Damian's buttons, often meeting his cold glares with a smirk or a sharp comment that only fueled the tension between them.

To Damian, Y/N represented an unwelcome disruption. He had spent years cultivating his role as one of the most respected and feared heroes of his generation, and the arrival of Wonder Boy felt like an intrusion into the dynamic he and Jon had built. Worse, Damian couldn't ignore how quickly Jon had taken to Y/N. Watching his best friend laugh and bond with someone Damian found utterly insufferable only deepened his resentment. Every interaction with Y/N felt like a battle of wills, a constant clash between their polar-opposite personalities.

What Jon saw as chemistry and camaraderie, Damian saw as an unnecessary complication. And while Jon was blissfully unaware of the storm brewing beneath the surface, Damian's simmering dislike for Y/N threatened to become a fault line in their once-unshakable friendship.

Y/N often found himself tagging along with Jon and Damian during their downtime, something that seemed natural given his growing friendship with Jon. Whether it was meeting up in the Watchtower's communal areas, training together in the Justice League's facilities, or teaming up on missions, Y/N's presence became a regular occurrence in their lives. To Jon, this was a welcome development—he enjoyed Y/N's company and appreciated the way their personalities meshed so effortlessly. But for Damian, Y/N's inclusion felt like an unwanted intrusion. Every moment spent with Y/N only solidified his dislike for the newcomer.

Damian, never one to mask his feelings, made no effort to hide his disdain. At first, it was subtle: curt responses when Y/N tried to engage him in conversation, a cold demeanor whenever they were in the same room. But as time went on, Damian's distaste became more pronounced. He began to act as though Y/N didn't exist, outright ignoring him in nearly every setting.

During missions, Damian treated Y/N as if he were invisible. He would issue orders to Jon, coordinate strategies with the team, and even acknowledge the input of lesser-known members of the Justice League, but never Y/N. If Y/N offered a suggestion, Damian would dismiss it with stony silence or carry on as if he hadn't spoken at all. It wasn't just Damian's words—or lack thereof—that stung; it was the way he refused to even look at Y/N, as though acknowledging his presence would be a waste of effort.

The cold shoulder extended beyond the battlefield. In the Watchtower's common areas, when Y/N would enter the room and wave in greeting, Damian would pointedly avert his gaze, pretending not to notice. If Y/N sat down across from him during meetings or meal breaks, Damian would remain stoically focused on his food, a datapad, or whatever was in front of him, blatantly ignoring Y/N's attempts to spark conversation. Even the simplest acts of civility were beyond Damian's reach—no nod of acknowledgment, no casual glance, no sense that Y/N was even there.

For Y/N, this behavior was both baffling and frustrating. He couldn't understand what he had done to earn such hostility, and Jon, ever the peacemaker, often tried to downplay Damian's actions, insisting that his best friend would warm up eventually. But the longer this dynamic persisted, the clearer it became that Damian's animosity toward Y/N was deeply rooted, and it wasn't going away anytime soon. Y/N wasn't just dealing with the coldness of a teammate—he was facing the icy walls of a man determined to freeze him out entirely.

Growing up as the son of Wonder Woman, Y/N had always believed that handling difficult personalities came with the territory. He had spent his entire life watching his mother navigate tense situations with poise and grace, including her unique dynamic with Batman. If she could deal with Bruce Wayne's brooding intensity and unyielding attitude, surely Y/N could handle Damian Wayne's coldness. At least, that's what he thought at first.

However, as time went on, Y/N found Damian's hostility more grating than he'd anticipated. The constant dismissiveness, the refusal to even acknowledge his presence, and the palpable tension during every interaction wore on him. Initially, Y/N tried to brush it off, reasoning that Damian's attitude wasn't worth his energy. But after weeks of icy silence and blatant disregard, Y/N's patience began to wear thin. He wasn't one to take disrespect lying down, and while he admired his mother's diplomacy, he also inherited her fierce sense of self-respect. If Damian wanted to play this game, Y/N was more than ready to meet him halfway.

Gradually, Y/N's demeanor toward Damian began to shift. What had once been attempts at friendly conversation turned into curt, one-word responses. If Damian was going to act like Y/N didn't exist, Y/N saw no reason to extend him the courtesy of warmth or kindness. Around Jon, Y/N was his usual self—friendly, engaging, and full of camaraderie. But the moment Damian entered the room, his tone would shift. He spoke only when absolutely necessary, and even then, his words were clipped and to the point. Any attempts Jon made to involve both of them in a conversation were met with polite but firm refusals from Y/N. It wasn't outright hostility, but it was clear to everyone in the room that Y/N was no longer interested in bridging the gap with Damian.

Still, Y/N wasn't entirely closed off to the idea of resolving their differences. Deep down, he knew that tension between teammates wasn't ideal, especially since they were both members of the Justice League and often worked together. He told himself that if Damian ever chose to act like an adult and address the issue, he'd be willing to have a civil conversation and bury the hatchet. But until that happened, Y/N decided he wouldn't waste his energy trying to fix something Damian clearly had no interest in repairing. For now, as far as Y/N was concerned, Damian didn't exist either.

Caught in the middle of this silent war was Jon, ever the peacemaker. Jon hated seeing his two closest friends at odds, especially since he could see the potential for them to get along if they would just make the effort. He often tried to mediate, encouraging Y/N to give Damian another chance and urging Damian to stop being so difficult. But both were stubborn in their own way, and Jon's efforts seemed to fall on deaf ears. Still, Jon felt it was his responsibility to fix the situation. Whether they liked it or not, Y/N and Damian were going to be working together for the foreseeable future. And if they were going to continue hanging out with him, Jon was determined to find a way to get them to at least tolerate each other. For now, though, he was stuck playing referee in what felt like an endless standoff between two of the most strong-willed people he knew.

Jon, ever the optimist and a firm believer in the power of friendship, decided that he'd had enough of the cold war between Damian and Y/N. Watching his two closest friends silently bristle at each other every time they were in the same room was exhausting. No matter how much he tried to smooth things over, Damian's stubborn pride and Y/N's growing indifference made it impossible to create any kind of harmony. It was clear to Jon that if things were ever going to improve, he would need to take drastic action. That's when the idea hit him—a bold, perhaps reckless plan that could either bring them closer together or completely blow up in his face.

Jon's plan was, in a word, devious. It was the kind of thing Superman would probably shake his head at, but desperate times called for desperate measures. If Damian and Y/N weren't willing to break the ice on their own, Jon would force them into a situation where they had no choice but to work together—or at the very least, talk to each other. The idea was risky, but Jon was confident in his ability to execute it. After all, he knew both Damian and Y/N better than anyone else. If anyone could pull this off, it was him.

The first step of Jon's plan was to engineer a situation that would leave Damian and Y/N completely reliant on one another. He knew that forcing them to cooperate under high-stakes circumstances might break down the walls they'd both built. Whether it was an "accidental" team-up during a mission or a carefully planned training exercise gone awry, Jon was determined to create an environment where they couldn't avoid each other. His goal was simple: put them in a situation so challenging that they'd have no choice but to set aside their differences and start seeing each other as allies.

Jon spent hours crafting his strategy, carefully considering every detail. He knew Damian would see through anything too obvious, and Y/N wouldn't take kindly to being manipulated. The plan had to feel organic—like fate or coincidence rather than a deliberate setup. He toyed with the idea of isolating them in the middle of a mission, perhaps arranging for an "equipment failure" or creating a scenario where they'd need to rely on each other's unique skills to succeed. Alternatively, he considered a more personal approach, such as tricking them into spending time together outside of work, under the guise of a casual outing. The possibilities were endless, but the goal remained the same: force them into a situation where they couldn't ignore each other.

As Jon finalized his plan, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbled within him. He knew this could go one of two ways. In the best-case scenario, the shared experience would break the tension between Damian and Y/N, helping them see each other in a new light. In the worst-case scenario, it could escalate their animosity and make things even worse. But Jon was willing to take the risk. Damian and Y/N were two of the most important people in his life, and he wasn't about to let their stubbornness ruin what could be an incredible friendship.

With his plan in place, Jon couldn't help but grin. Whether they liked it or not, Damian and Y/N were about to be thrown into the deep end of this manufactured bonding experience. All Jon could do now was hope for the best—and maybe prepare for the fallout if things didn't go according to plan.

It was a quiet afternoon when both Y/N and Damian were immersed in their civilian lives, enjoying a rare moment of normalcy away from their heroic duties. That peace was abruptly shattered when they each received an encrypted video message from Jon. The message was short and jarring, filled with static and tension. On the screen, Jon appeared disheveled, his usually calm and composed demeanor replaced by clear distress. "I'm in trouble," he said urgently, before the video abruptly cut out.

A second voice, cold and unfamiliar, replaced Jon's. "Catch him if you can," it taunted, before leaving behind a cryptic clue. The video ended abruptly, leaving both Y/N and Damian frozen with the same realization—Jon was missing, and he needed their help.

Y/N reacted immediately, his heart pounding with worry for his best friend. He raced to the Watchtower, intending to alert Superman, Batman, or even Wonder Woman about the situation. If Jon was in danger, they would surely have the resources and experience to track him down quickly. Damian, however, took a different approach. True to his calculated and independent nature, he focused on the clue. He knew Jon better than most, and he trusted his own ability to solve the mystery without needing to involve anyone else.

When Y/N arrived at the Watchtower, he was met by his cousin, Wonder Girl, who delivered disappointing news. Most of the Justice League, including Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman, were off-world dealing with an intergalactic crisis. There would be no immediate backup, no cavalry to call in. Y/N realized he had no choice but to handle the situation himself. With determination fueling him, he turned his attention to the clue left in Jon's message. If no one else was available to help, then he would figure this out on his own.

Meanwhile, Damian had already begun decoding the riddle. He pieced together fragments of the message, tracing Jon's likely location with methodical precision. As always, he worked alone, fully confident in his ability to solve the puzzle faster than anyone else. He hadn't even considered the possibility of teaming up with Y/N—or anyone, for that matter.

Their paths inevitably crossed when the first clue led them both to the same location: a desolate warehouse on the outskirts of the city. Y/N, frustrated but determined, had tracked the lead on his own, and the last person he expected to run into was Damian Wayne. The former assassin was already there, standing amidst the shadows of the abandoned building, his arms crossed as he glared at Y/N.

"You've got to be kidding me," Damian muttered, his tone dripping with disdain. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Y/N shot back, equally annoyed. "I'm trying to find Jon. You know, our friend?"

Damian rolled his eyes. "I don't need your help. I've got this under control."

Y/N bristled but forced himself to remain calm. "This isn't about you or me. It's about Jon. If we waste time arguing, we might miss something important."

Despite their mutual dislike, both knew Y/N had a point. The tension between them was palpable, but neither was willing to let their animosity get in the way of finding Jon. Reluctantly, they began to compare notes, realizing that their separate investigations had led them to the same conclusion. The first clue was a riddle referencing a hidden location within the city—a clue they would need to solve together if they had any hope of finding Jon before it was too late.

As they pieced the puzzle together, the friction between them remained, but so did an unspoken understanding. Neither would admit it, but deep down, both Y/N and Damian knew that working together—however reluctantly—might be the only way to save the one person they both cared about.

Inside the abandoned warehouse, the dim light flickered above as Y/N and Damian combed through the surroundings for any sign of a clue. Their search led them to a dusty table where an old projector sat, wires trailing to a small screen mounted on the wall. The machine whirred to life as they approached, displaying a haunting image that made Y/N's breath catch in his throat.

It was Jon—unconscious, his head slumped forward and his hands bound tightly behind his back. His normally vibrant face was pale, and a trickle of dried blood could be seen on his temple. The sight made Y/N's chest tighten with worry, and he clenched his fists at his sides. Next to him, Damian's sharp eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as his mind raced to assess Jon's condition.

Before either of them could fully process the image, the familiar chilling voice echoed through the room, distorted and mocking. "Ah, you're quicker than I expected," it said with a sinister chuckle. "But Jon is slipping further from your grasp. Can you save him before it's too late? Let's see how clever you really are."

The image of Jon flickered and disappeared, replaced by a second clue. This time, it was a cryptic riddle accompanied by a fragmented map. The voice laughed once more before the screen went black, leaving Y/N and Damian standing in tense silence.

Y/N was the first to speak, his voice laced with urgency. "We don't have time for this. We need to figure out this clue now." He leaned over the table, studying the map intently.

Damian, already annoyed by Y/N's presence, scoffed. "Don't state the obvious," he said coldly. "I'm more than capable of handling this without your input."

Y/N straightened, fixing Damian with an incredulous look. "Are you serious right now? Jon's life is on the line, and you're still acting like this is some solo mission."

"Because it would be easier if it were," Damian snapped back, his tone cutting. "At least then I wouldn't have to deal with distractions."

"Distractions?" Y/N shot back, his voice rising. "You mean the person actually trying to help you save your best friend? Grow up, Damian."

Their voices echoed in the empty warehouse as they butted heads, their tempers flaring with each passing moment. Damian's icy demeanor clashed with Y/N's fiery resolve, and neither was willing to back down.

"You're wasting time," Damian said, his voice sharp as a blade. "If you stopped talking and started thinking, we might actually make progress."

Y/N glared at him, stepping closer. "And maybe if you weren't so full of yourself, we'd have figured this out already. Newsflash, you're not the only one who cares about Jon."

For a moment, it seemed like their argument might escalate further, but the sound of the projector powering down snapped them out of it. Y/N exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Fine," he said tersely, pointing to the riddle. "Let's focus on this."

Reluctantly, Damian turned his attention back to the clue, his eyes scanning the words with sharp precision. The riddle referenced a "silent guardian of the city" and "a beacon in the darkness," cryptic phrases that seemed to point to a specific location. Damian muttered the lines under his breath, analyzing each word with practiced skill. Meanwhile, Y/N focused on the fragmented map, trying to piece together the missing sections to get a clearer picture of their next destination.

Though they worked in tense silence, the underlying friction between them remained. Every now and then, Damian would scoff at Y/N's suggestions, dismissing them with a cutting remark, while Y/N would respond with an exasperated sigh or a pointed glare. Yet, despite their clashing personalities, they slowly began to make progress.

"Wait," Y/N said suddenly, pointing to a section of the map. "This part here—it's an old signal tower. It matches the 'beacon in the darkness' part of the riddle."

Damian glanced at it, his lips pressed into a thin line. "And the 'silent guardian' could refer to the gargoyle statues near the tower. It's a stretch, but it fits."

Their eyes met briefly, a reluctant acknowledgment that they were finally on the same page. Without another word, they grabbed their gear and prepared to head to the next location. The tension between them was far from resolved, but for Jon's sake, they managed to set it aside—at least for now. As they left the warehouse, the image of Jon's unconscious form lingered in their minds, driving them forward despite their animosity.

Y/N and Damian raced through the city streets toward the old signal tower, the weight of Jon's plight pressing heavily on their shoulders. The abandoned structure loomed in the distance, its silhouette cutting a stark figure against the setting sun. Despite their mutual animosity, the urgency of the situation forced them to move in tandem, their shared determination to rescue Jon driving them forward.

The signal tower, long out of commission, was eerily quiet when they arrived. Its rusted exterior and cracked windows spoke of years of neglect. Y/N and Damian exchanged a wary glance before stepping inside, their footsteps echoing in the vast, hollow space. The interior was dimly lit by beams of sunlight filtering through the broken windows, casting long shadows across the dusty floor. The air smelled of mildew and rust, and every creak of the floorboards seemed louder than it should have been.

"This place is a dump," Y/N muttered, scanning the area for any sign of the third clue.

"Stay focused," Damian snapped, already moving toward a set of stairs leading to an upper platform. "They wouldn't lead us here without a reason."

As they searched the area, Y/N's frustration grew. There were no obvious signs of a clue—no markings, no hidden compartments, nothing that pointed to their next step. Meanwhile, Damian methodically examined the room, his sharp eyes scanning every corner. The silence between them was heavy, broken only by the occasional shuffle of boots on the dusty floor.

Then, Damian's eyes narrowed. "There," he said, pointing to a small console embedded in the wall. It looked out of place among the decayed equipment, its sleek design suggesting it had been installed recently. Y/N followed Damian over to the console, and together they examined it. A faint glow emanated from the screen, displaying a single phrase: "Enter if you dare."

Before either of them could react, the floor beneath their feet shifted. There was a loud metallic groan, and suddenly the ground gave way. Y/N and Damian plunged downward, landing with a heavy thud in a dark, enclosed space.

The room they found themselves in was small and suffocating, the walls lined with reinforced steel that shimmered faintly in the dim light. A thick, mechanical hum filled the air, suggesting some kind of power source nearby. Y/N groaned as he pushed himself to his feet, brushing dust off his jacket.

"Great," Y/N said, his voice tinged with irritation. "A trap. Just what we needed."

"Obviously," Damian retorted, already examining the walls with meticulous precision. "Stay quiet. I'm thinking."

Y/N rolled his eyes but held back a comment. Instead, he stepped toward one of the walls, his frustration bubbling over. Without a second thought, he drew back his fist and unleashed a powerful punch, his super strength making the air ripple with the force of his strike. The impact reverberated through the room, but when the dust settled, the wall remained completely intact—untouched, as if nothing had happened.

Damian turned, one eyebrow raised in a mix of annoyance and amusement. "Impressive," he said dryly. "But if brute force worked, don't you think they'd have planned for that? This isn't just reinforced steel. It's likely lined with a composite that absorbs kinetic energy. You're wasting your time."

Y/N clenched his fists, his frustration mounting. "Well, excuse me for trying to get us out of here while you stand there doing nothing."

Damian ignored the jab, running his fingers along the wall's edges, searching for any hidden seams or mechanisms. "The people behind this aren't amateurs," he said coolly. "They've thought this through. If we're going to get out, we'll need to find the weak point in their design—not punch blindly like an idiot."

Y/N bit back a retort, his jaw tightening. "Fine. What's your brilliant plan, then?"

Damian didn't respond immediately, instead focusing on a faint indentation in the corner of the room. "Here," he said finally. "This looks like an access panel. If we can pry it open, we might be able to disable the locking mechanism."

Y/N moved closer, his super strength finally useful as he pulled at the panel's edges. With a metallic screech, the panel came loose, revealing a tangle of wires and circuits. Damian knelt beside it, his sharp eyes quickly identifying the control system.

"Just don't touch anything," Damian said as he began to work. "One wrong move and this whole room could collapse on us."

Y/N crossed his arms but held his tongue, silently watching as Damian's deft fingers worked the wires. Despite his irritation with the former assassin, Y/N couldn't deny Damian's skill. He had an uncanny ability to remain calm under pressure, a sharp mind that seemed to thrive in moments like this.

As Damian worked, Y/N's thoughts drifted to Jon. The image of his unconscious friend flashed in his mind, spurring him to action. "Hurry up," Y/N said, his voice tight with worry. "Jon doesn't have time for this."

"I'm aware," Damian replied curtly, not looking up. "If you stop hovering, I might be able to work faster."

The tension between them remained, but their shared goal kept them focused. Whatever lay ahead, they knew they would have to rely on each other to escape this trap and save Jon before it was too late.

Damian's hands moved with practiced precision as he worked on the wires inside the access panel. His brow furrowed in concentration, his sharp mind racing to bypass the security system and unlock the door. Y/N stood nearby, arms crossed and eyes trained on the former assassin, silently willing him to work faster. The room's faint hum grew louder, as if mocking their predicament, and the tension between them was thick enough to cut with a blade.

Suddenly, the sound of static filled the air, making both Y/N and Damian freeze. A distorted voice, the same one that had taunted them earlier, crackled through hidden speakers in the room.

"Nice try, Damian," the voice sneered, dripping with amusement. "But you really think I'd make it that easy? This isn't about hacking or brute strength. No, the two of you have a... different challenge to overcome."

Y/N's head snapped toward the ceiling, his expression twisting in confusion. "What the hell are you talking about?" he demanded, his voice echoing off the steel walls. "What challenge?"

The voice chuckled, a low, unsettling sound. "You've both been running around, bickering like children while Jon's life hangs in the balance. It's pathetic, really. You're supposed to be heroes, yet you can't even hold a civil conversation."

Damian's jaw tightened, his hands dropping from the panel as he glared upward. "If you think this is the time for games, you're sorely mistaken," he said coldly. "Release us, or I'll—"

"You'll do nothing," the voice interrupted, sharp and mocking. "The only way you're getting out of here is if you two start acting like normal human beings for once. Talk. Get to know each other. Drop the egos and actually communicate. Until you do, this room will remain your prison."

Y/N blinked, his brow furrowing deeply. "Wait, what?" he said, his voice tinged with disbelief. "You want us to... what, have a heart-to-heart?"

The voice laughed again, the sound grating on both their nerves. "Exactly! You're not leaving until you prove you can work together. Think of it as... team-building."

Damian's glare darkened, and he turned his attention back to the panel. "This is absurd. I'm not wasting time playing your ridiculous games."

"Oh, you'll play," the voice said with a knowing edge. "Because if you don't, Jon won't be the only one in danger. And don't bother trying to override the system. This room is designed to outsmart even you, Damian Wayne."

Y/N looked between Damian and the ceiling, his frustration boiling over. "This is insane," he muttered, pacing the room. "We don't have time for this. Jon is out there, and we're stuck here because someone thinks we need to 'bond'?"

Damian growled under his breath, refusing to acknowledge Y/N's comment as he crouched back down to inspect the panel. "Ignore the voice," he said coldly. "It's just trying to manipulate us."

The voice chuckled again. "Oh, you're so predictable, Damian. Always trying to brute-force your way through a problem. Newsflash: that won't work this time. You both need to figure out what's more important—your petty grudge or your best friend's life."

Y/N stopped pacing, his fists clenched at his sides. He looked over at Damian, his frustration warring with the nagging sense that the voice might have a point. "This is ridiculous," he said, exhaling sharply. "But if this is what it takes to get out of here and save Jon, then fine. Let's talk."

Damian didn't respond immediately, his fingers still working at the panel's wires. But the futility of his efforts was becoming increasingly apparent. The walls hummed ominously, as if to emphasize the voice's claim that there was no escape without cooperation.

"Damian," Y/N pressed, his voice firmer now. "We don't have a choice."

Damian's hands paused, his jaw tightening in frustration. He hated being backed into a corner, and even more, he hated the idea of bending to someone else's demands. But as much as he despised admitting it, Y/N was right. With a reluctant sigh, he stood and turned to face Y/N, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Fine," Damian said tersely. "Let's get this over with."

The voice cackled triumphantly. "Good. Now, let's see if you can play nice. The clock's ticking."

Both Y/N and Damian exchanged uneasy glances, their mutual dislike momentarily eclipsed by the weight of their predicament. Neither knew exactly what was expected of them, but one thing was clear: they had no choice but to confront their differences and figure it out together.

Y/N stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall, his jaw clenched as he stared off into the distance. Damian, on the other hand, had returned to studying the panel, though his movements were slower now, as if he were only going through the motions. Neither of them seemed willing to speak, the weight of their shared animosity hanging thick in the air.

Minutes passed, each one stretching longer than the last. The silence wasn't peaceful—it was sharp, like a knife poised to strike. Y/N could feel his frustration building, his patience eroding with every second. Damian's cold, aloof attitude grated on him, and the absurdity of their situation only made it worse. They were trapped in a room because someone thought they needed to "bond," and Damian's stubborn refusal to engage wasn't helping.

Finally, Y/N couldn't take it anymore. He straightened up, his eyes locking onto Damian's rigid form. "You know what? This is your fault," he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

Damian didn't even look up, his focus seemingly fixed on the wires in front of him. "I don't have time for your whining," he said flatly.

Y/N scoffed, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. "Oh, I'm not whining," he shot back, his tone sharp with irritation. "I'm just pointing out the obvious. We're stuck in here because of you."

That got Damian's attention. He turned his head slightly, his sharp eyes narrowing as they met Y/N's glare. "Excuse me?" he said, his voice low and dangerous.

"You heard me," Y/N said, crossing his arms. "This whole situation—us being trapped, Jon being in danger—it all comes back to you and the way you act. We're supposed to be adults, Damian, but you act like a child every time we're in the same room."

Damian stood up slowly, his movements deliberate, his eyes cold and calculating. "I act like a child?" he repeated, his voice tinged with mockery. "That's rich coming from someone who can't stop blaming others for their problems."

Y/N stepped closer, refusing to back down. "You ignore me, dismiss me, act like I don't exist—and for what? Because I had the audacity to show up and be friends with Jon? That's why we're here, Damian. Because instead of acting like a mature adult, you've been throwing this petty grudge around like we're still in grade school."

Damian's jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "You have no idea what you're talking about," he said icily. "You don't know me, and you don't understand anything about the dynamics at play here."

"Because you won't let anyone get close enough to understand," Y/N countered, his voice rising. "You've spent so much time building walls and pushing people away that you can't even see how ridiculous this is. I'm not your enemy, Damian, but you sure as hell treat me like one."

The room seemed to grow even smaller as the two of them stared each other down, the tension crackling like static electricity. For a moment, it looked as though Damian might lash out, his expression hard and unyielding. But instead, he turned away, his shoulders stiff as he tried to bury himself in the wires again.

"This conversation is a waste of time," Damian said coldly, though there was a faint edge to his voice now, a hint of something more vulnerable hidden beneath the surface.

"Yeah, because God forbid you admit you're wrong about something," Y/N snapped, his frustration boiling over. "We're trapped in here because of your ego. If you'd just been willing to act like an adult from the beginning, we wouldn't be in this mess."

Damian said nothing, but the silence that followed was heavier than before, filled with unspoken words and unresolved tension. Y/N exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he stepped back, his anger giving way to exhaustion.

"Look," Y/N said finally, his voice softer now but still firm. "We don't have to like each other, but we're stuck here. And Jon's out there, counting on us. So maybe, just maybe, you could stop acting like the world revolves around you and try actually working with me for once."

Damian didn't respond immediately, his head bowed as if he were still focused on the panel. But Y/N noticed the subtle shift in his posture, the way his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. It wasn't much, but it was enough to give Y/N hope that maybe, just maybe, they could start moving forward.

Y/N wasn't done. The frustration that had been building inside him for months spilled out like a flood, unchecked and relentless. His voice echoed off the steel walls as he paced back and forth, throwing pointed words at Damian with every step.

"You know what really gets me, Damian?" Y/N said, his tone sharp and unwavering. "It's not even that you're rude or dismissive—though, trust me, that's annoying enough. It's the fact that you act like this for no reason! You can't stand being in the same room as me, you ignore me, you snap at me, and for what? Because I exist? Because I'm friends with Jon? Because I dare to breathe the same air as you? It's childish, Damian. It's ridiculous."

Damian stood rigid by the access panel, his fists clenched at his sides. His jaw was so tight it looked like he might crack a tooth, and his usually impassive face was marred by a storm of emotions he couldn't fully suppress. But Y/N wasn't stopping.

"I tried to be nice," Y/N continued, his pacing quickening. "I tried to get to know you, to be civil, even when you made it clear you couldn't care less. But no matter what I do, it's never good enough for you. You just shut me out and act like I'm some kind of nuisance. And for what? What did I ever do to you?"

Damian's glare sharpened, his hands twitching as if he wanted to lash out—but not physically. No, this was something deeper, something he'd been trying to keep buried. He opened his mouth to speak but snapped it shut again, his pride battling with the emotions he was so clearly trying to contain.

Y/N stopped pacing and turned to face Damian directly, his frustration boiling over into an exasperated shout. "Just say it, Damian! If you hate me so much, just say it already! Because I am sick and tired of trying to figure out what your problem is!"

That was it. Damian snapped. He whirled around to face Y/N, his green eyes blazing with a mix of anger and something else—something raw and unfiltered. "You want to know why I hate you?" he shouted, his voice louder than Y/N had ever heard it. "Fine! I hate you because I don't hate you!"

Y/N blinked, completely thrown off by Damian's words. "What?" he asked, his voice softer now, confusion replacing his anger.

Damian took a step closer, his fists still clenched, his breathing uneven. "I hate you because I don't hate you," he repeated, his tone filled with a vulnerability he couldn't hide. "Because I like you. More than I'm supposed to."

Y/N froze, his heart skipping a beat as the weight of Damian's confession hit him. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. For the first time in the endless argument, he didn't know what to say.

Damian let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his dark hair as he looked away. "You drive me insane, Y/N," he said, his voice quieter now but still laced with emotion. "You're loud, you're impulsive, you're always trying to make everything about teamwork and feelings. And for some reason, I can't stop thinking about you. About how you always seem to be in my space, how you somehow get along with everyone—even Jon. Especially Jon."

He turned back to Y/N, his expression a mix of anger and vulnerability. "It's easier to push you away than to deal with this—whatever this is. Because if I don't, I might actually... I don't know. Care too much."

Y/N's breath hitched as he processed Damian's words. The room felt smaller, the air heavier, as he stood there, staring at the man who had spent months pushing him away only to admit that it was all a cover for something deeper.

"So, yeah," Damian said, his voice breaking slightly. "That's why I've been acting like a 'child,' as you so eloquently put it. Because I'm trying not to feel something I know I shouldn't."

Y/N was silent for a long moment, his mind racing. He hadn't expected this—not even remotely. The Damian he knew, or thought he knew, was guarded, cold, and impenetrable. But now, here he was, standing in front of Y/N, exposed in a way that made him seem almost... human.

Finally, Y/N found his voice. "Damian," he said softly, his tone devoid of its earlier anger. "You could've just told me."

Damian huffed, crossing his arms defensively. "Right. Because you would've reacted so well."

Y/N couldn't help but let out a small, incredulous laugh. "Honestly? Probably not. But this?" He gestured between them. "This whole war you've been waging? It's exhausting. For both of us."

Damian's gaze softened slightly, though his defenses were still up. "I didn't ask for this," he muttered. "I didn't ask to feel this way."

"Maybe not," Y/N said, taking a tentative step closer. "But it's there. And I'm not saying I know what to do with it either. But maybe, instead of ignoring it—or me—we could... figure it out. Together."

The room fell into silence again, but this time, it wasn't the suffocating kind. It was heavy with possibility, an unspoken understanding passing between them as they stood there, neither sure of what would happen next but both unwilling to take another step back.

Y/N stood in the silence that followed Damian's startling confession, his mind racing as the weight of the revelation sank in. Damian liked him—not in the begrudging, "I can tolerate you" kind of way, but in a way that ran deeper, more personal. The sheer thought of it was enough to throw Y/N off balance, but as he let the moment settle, something strange began to happen. He started to think back, piecing together little moments, subtle actions, and things Damian had done that, in hindsight, might've been signs all along.

The first thing that came to mind was how Damian always seemed to find reasons to be near him. At first, Y/N had thought it was just coincidence. They'd end up on the same missions, sit in the same meetings, or cross paths in the Watchtower's training rooms. But now that he thought about it, there had been too many of those "coincidences" to ignore. Damian wasn't the type to linger around people he didn't like—he went out of his way to avoid them. And yet, he'd always been there, on the edges of Y/N's space, as if he couldn't bring himself to completely stay away.

Then there were the glances. Y/N hadn't noticed them at first, but now they stood out in his mind like neon signs. Damian had a habit of watching him—not in an obvious or creepy way, but in fleeting moments when he thought no one was looking. Y/N would catch him sometimes, those sharp green eyes studying him from across the room. Whenever Y/N noticed, Damian would quickly look away, his expression shifting to one of annoyance or indifference. At the time, Y/N had written it off as Damian silently judging him. Now, though, it felt different, like there had been something unspoken hidden in those glances.

Y/N's thoughts shifted to their arguments. Damian had always been quick to snap at him, his words cutting and precise. But looking back, Y/N realized that Damian's harshness had always been oddly personal. It wasn't the kind of casual indifference Damian showed toward people he didn't care about—it was sharp, heated, and filled with an intensity that Y/N now recognized as something else entirely. It was as if Damian had been trying to push him away on purpose, as if keeping Y/N at a distance was the only way he could deal with his feelings.

And then there were the rare, fleeting moments when Damian's guard slipped. Y/N remembered one mission in particular, where he'd been injured in a fight. It wasn't anything serious, just a nasty gash on his arm, but Damian had been uncharacteristically insistent about treating it. He'd hovered closer than usual, his hands steady but his tone sharper than necessary as he muttered about "not being reckless." At the time, Y/N had thought it was just Damian being his usual bossy self. But now, he wondered if there had been more to it—if that had been Damian's way of showing he cared without actually saying it.

Y/N's mind kept turning, pulling together a series of small moments that, individually, hadn't seemed significant but now painted a much clearer picture. The way Damian's tone would soften, just slightly, when Y/N was upset. The rare times Damian had defended him in front of others, even if he did so begrudgingly. The almost imperceptible hesitation before Damian delivered one of his usual sarcastic quips, as if he were holding something back.

And then there were the times Y/N had caught Damian staring at him—not with judgment, but with something quieter, softer. Those moments had always been brief, gone as quickly as they came, but now Y/N realized they might've been the most telling signs of all.

Standing there, Y/N felt a mix of emotions swirling inside him—confusion, disbelief, and, oddly enough, a strange warmth. He'd spent so much time being frustrated by Damian's behavior, by his coldness and dismissiveness, that he'd never stopped to consider what might be hiding beneath it. Now that he saw the bigger picture, it was almost overwhelming.

"So, all this time," Y/N said slowly, his voice breaking the silence as he looked at Damian. "All those arguments, the glares, the snarky comments—that was... you trying to hide this?"

Damian's jaw tightened, his face unreadable as he averted his gaze. "I told you," he muttered, his voice low and almost defensive. "I didn't ask for this. I didn't want it."

Y/N studied him for a moment, his frustration giving way to something softer. "Maybe you didn't," he said quietly, his tone gentler now. "But it's there. And, honestly... I think I've been too blind to see it."

Damian didn't respond, but the way his shoulders stiffened told Y/N that his words had struck a chord. As the silence settled between them again, Y/N couldn't help but wonder how things might've been different if he'd noticed the signs earlier. Still, one thing was clear—this moment, as unexpected and messy as it was, was a turning point. And neither of them could turn back now.

Y/N stood there, staring at Damian, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. The weight of Damian's confession lingered in the air, heavy and unspoken, yet undeniable. For months, Y/N had been convinced that Damian's coldness was born out of dislike or resentment. But now? Now everything felt different. The idea that all of it—every glare, every snarky comment, every cutting remark—had stemmed from something deeper left Y/N both stunned and strangely intrigued.

And then there was the other thing—something Y/N had never allowed himself to dwell on until now. Damian Wayne was, objectively, one of the most attractive people Y/N had ever met. He was sharp, confident, and carried himself with an intensity that few could match. It wasn't something Y/N had actively acknowledged before, but standing here now, the realization hit him like a lightning bolt.

"So," Y/N began, his voice lighter than it had been moments before, a teasing edge creeping into his tone. "You have feelings for me, huh? You like me." He stepped a little closer, his arms crossed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I mean, I guess I can't blame you. After all, I am pretty amazing."

Damian's glare snapped up to meet Y/N's, his cheeks faintly tinged with red. "Don't push it," he muttered, his tone clipped but lacking the venom it usually carried.

Y/N's smirk widened as he continued, undeterred. "Oh, I'm just saying it makes sense. I mean, look at you—you've got the whole brooding thing going on, the perfectly messy hair, and those stupidly sharp cheekbones. Not to mention, your dad is Bruce Wayne, so it's kind of unfair that you also got the genes for being ridiculously good-looking."

Damian rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to the wall as if to avoid the conversation altogether. "Flattery isn't going to get you anywhere," he muttered, but the slight flush on his face betrayed him.

Y/N chuckled, stepping closer still until he was barely a foot away from Damian. "I'm just being honest," he said, his tone dropping to something softer, more genuine. "You're attractive, Damian. I'd have to be blind not to notice. But that doesn't mean I believe you have real feelings for me."

Damian stiffened at that, his jaw tightening. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, turning his head slightly to glance at Y/N out of the corner of his eye.

"It means," Y/N said, tilting his head, "that you've spent months pushing me away, acting like I'm the most annoying person on the planet. And now you're telling me you've had feelings for me this whole time? Forgive me if I'm a little skeptical."

Damian's lips pressed into a thin line, and Y/N could tell he was holding back a sharp retort. But instead of letting Damian retreat into himself again, Y/N decided to take a risk—a big one.

"Alright," Y/N said, a mischievous glint in his eye. "If you really have feelings for me, prove it."

Damian's brow furrowed, his confusion evident. "Prove it?" he repeated, his tone wary.

"Yeah," Y/N said, stepping even closer until they were practically toe-to-toe. His voice dropped lower, more challenging now. "Kiss me. If you really feel something for me, then kiss me."

Damian's eyes widened, and for a moment, Y/N saw a flicker of panic in his expression. But just as quickly, Damian's face hardened into a mask of composure, though his faintly reddening ears betrayed him. "That's ridiculous," Damian muttered, his voice quieter now.

"Is it?" Y/N countered, leaning in slightly, his smirk still in place. "I mean, if you don't have feelings for me, you've got nothing to lose. But if you do..." He trailed off, letting the weight of his challenge hang in the air.

Damian's hands clenched at his sides, his internal struggle plain as day. Y/N could see the gears turning in his mind, the way he was trying to weigh the risk against the reward. Finally, Damian let out a sharp exhale, his green eyes locking onto Y/N's with an intensity that sent a shiver down Y/N's spine.

"Fine," Damian said, his voice steady despite the slight tremor in his hands. "If that's what it takes to shut you up, then so be it."

Before Y/N could respond, Damian closed the small distance between them, his hand reaching up to cup the back of Y/N's neck as he pulled him into a kiss. It wasn't hesitant or uncertain—it was bold, confident, and full of all the pent-up emotion Damian had clearly been holding back for months.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise at first, but then he melted into the kiss, his hands instinctively gripping Damian's shoulders. It was like everything around them faded away—the tension, the argument, the very room they were trapped in—and all that was left was the fiery connection between them.

When Damian finally pulled back, his face was flushed, and his breathing was uneven. He met Y/N's gaze, his expression carefully guarded, though his eyes betrayed the vulnerability he was trying so hard to hide. "Satisfied?" he asked, his voice softer than usual.

Y/N stared at him for a long moment, his lips still tingling from the kiss. Then, a slow grin spread across his face. "Okay," he said, his voice a little breathless. "You win. You definitely have feelings for me."

Damian rolled his eyes, though there was no real annoyance in the gesture. "You're insufferable," he muttered, but the faint curve of his lips hinted at a smile.

"And yet, you like me anyway," Y/N shot back, his grin widening.

For the first time, the tension between them seemed to dissipate, replaced by something warmer, something that neither of them could ignore anymore.

“Well, I must admit,” the voice began, “this is… unexpected. It seems the camera in your little room went out at the most inconvenient moment. How tragic—I didn’t get to see whether or not you two actually talked like I instructed. Still, let’s see if you’ve earned your freedom anyway.”

Y/N and Damian exchanged a glance. Before either could respond, the mechanical hum of the door unlocking filled the room. Slowly, the heavy steel door creaked open, light spilling into the confined space. And there, standing in the doorway with a wide grin on his face, was none other than Jon Kent—perfectly fine, looking as though he hadn’t been in any danger at all.

“Hey, guys!” Jon greeted cheerfully, his hands stuffed casually into his jacket pockets. “Glad to see you survived my little… experiment.”

For a moment, neither Y/N nor Damian spoke, both too stunned by the sight of their supposedly kidnapped friend. Y/N was the first to recover, his confusion quickly giving way to disbelief. “Wait—what?” he said, stepping forward. “Jon, what the hell is going on? You’re fine?”

Jon laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he admitted. “The whole ‘kidnapping’ thing? That was me. Well, sort of. The voice and the clues? All part of the plan.”

Y/N blinked, utterly dumbfounded. “You planned this?” he asked incredulously. “The video, the clues, the room—everything?”

“Yep,” Jon said with a grin. “And honestly? It worked out even better than I expected.”

Y/N turned to Damian, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. Damian, however, was glaring at Jon with a look that could have melted steel. “You’re telling me,” Damian said, his voice low and icy, “that you orchestrated this entire charade? You wasted our time, made us think you were in danger, and locked us in a room—all because you thought it would be fun?”

Jon raised his hands defensively, though his grin didn’t falter. “Okay, maybe ‘fun’ isn’t the right word,” he said quickly. “But I had a good reason! You two have been at each other’s throats for months. I thought, ‘Hey, maybe if they’re forced to spend some time together, they’ll work things out.’”

Damian’s glare only darkened. “I should have let you stay in that room,” he muttered under his breath.

Y/N, on the other hand, couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, I’ll admit it,” he said, leaning against the wall. “It was a ridiculous plan. But… it wasn’t all bad.”

Jon tilted his head, looking curious. “Oh? Does that mean you two actually talked?”

Y/N shot a quick glance at Damian, who was still glaring at Jon with murderous intent. Then he shrugged casually. “Yeah, we talked,” he said, a teasing lilt to his voice. “I mean, if it weren’t for your little scheme, I never would’ve known about some… interesting developments.”

Damian’s glare snapped to Y/N, his eyes narrowing in warning. Y/N just grinned, thoroughly enjoying Damian’s discomfort.

“Interesting developments?” Jon asked, his curiosity clearly piqued. “What kind of—”

“Nothing,” Damian interrupted sharply, his voice cutting through the conversation like a blade. “It’s none of your business, Kent.”

Jon raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of them. There was an unmistakable tension in the air—one he couldn’t quite put his finger on—but before he could press further, Y/N clapped him on the shoulder.

“Let it go, Jon,” Y/N said, still grinning. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

Jon frowned but eventually relented, though the suspicion in his eyes didn’t completely fade. “Fine,” he said, his tone reluctant. “But hey, at least you’re not trying to kill each other anymore. That’s progress, right?”

Damian rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “If I ever find out you pull something like this again, Kent, you’ll be the one locked in a room.”

Jon chuckled nervously, clearly unconcerned by Damian’s threat. “Noted,” he said, turning to leave. “But hey, you can’t argue with the results.”

As Jon walked away, Y/N glanced at Damian, his grin softening into something more genuine. “You know,” he said quietly, “he’s not wrong. I mean, I still think the whole plan was insane, but… I’m glad it happened.”

Damian’s gaze shifted to Y/N, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he sighed, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. “Whatever,” he muttered, though there was no real heat behind the words.

Y/N laughed, bumping Damian’s shoulder lightly as they followed Jon out of the building.

Neither of them mentioned the confession or the kiss. It was their secret for now, something too raw and new to share with anyone else—especially Jon. But as they walked side by side, the unspoken understanding between them felt like the start of something neither of them could deny anymore.

[wolfsbanesparks]

Hey y'all!

I'm back with another oneshot! This one was written for @pantheonofcoffee as a part of @dcufans4palestine

Summary: Billy wasn't entirely sure how he'd managed it, but somehow he’d convinced just about everyone— his teachers, classmates, employers, and even the entire Justice League—that he was a single father of six rather than a semi-homeless preteen.

Oddly enough that might end up being a good thing

[itsvenera]

Just saw a post discussing how one of the Arcane writers said that if Vi had a prison wife she likely would've been Vastayan.. so Vi x Vastayan Reader oneshots pls?

Idk if you know greater League lore, but Vastayan are widely unaccepted, banned or hunted across Runeterra. They live in Piltover/(more) Zaun, but they hardly use magic out of fear of being found out & a lot of Vastayan stay in Ionia where it is safer for them to live!

author's note: ngl, I did have to do my research with this one because I was familiar with the greater League Lore or the Vastayan. Thankfully, Arcane did introduce their first Vastayan character in Season 2, so I did had a chance to learn a bit more about the race. <3 Thank you so much for requesting and I hope you like it! x

Honestly from all of the characters, I think she is one of the most likely to have a Vastayan partner.

I see her partner with either a fox-like features (like Ahri) or a bird-like ones (like Xayah).

Either way, if Vi had a prison wife, her character would be the same - smart, sneaky, cunning, seductive and not taking 'no' for an answer.

She was imprisoned in Stillwater a few years after Vi for smuggling Vastayan artifacts. As most of she was not welcomed warmly and it didn't take long for her to become a target for both the guards and other inmates.

Vi may have lost a lot of things, but sense of justice was not one of them. She would step up and assume the role as a 'protector' quickly, making it clear that the other inmates should back off if they want their face to remain whole.

The Vastayan would be initially sceptical about letting the pink-haired woman help her - not only she was a human, but she was also hotheaded, blunt and seemed to solve all her problems with fists, rather than words.

With time, however, both of them would grow close and their friendship would blossom into a relationship.

I totally see them as a badass duo that would climb the hierarchy at Stillwater because they balance their strengths so well. Vi is the street-smart and physically strong partner, while the Vastayan is the sweet-talking and charming one that would manage to turn many of their enemies into reluctant allies.

Vi is fiercely overprotective - not only because in her eyes the Vastayan is way too pure and precious for the prison dynamics, but also because she fears that her playing games with both inmates and guards will eventually blow up back into their faces.

Pretty intense relationship!

Neither of them is one to hold back, especially when it comes to voicing their opinions and feelings. There will be constant push and pull between how they handle things and since they are both stubborn and with the NEED to have the last word, sometimes their arguments can lead to pretty big fights.

Vi is usually the one to apologise first - even though it always comes as a reluctant and gruff 'sorry', she doesn't want to risk losing another person dear to her.

I imagine the Vastayan as the jealous partner - she would definitely not like other females approaching Vi and while she usually avoids direct confrontation, she would not think twice "baring her teeth" if she senses someone hitting up on her lover or try to catch her attention.

(Don't get me started on their dynamic once Caitlyn shows up... 👀)

Mutual admiration <3

I think both Vi and her partner would be in awe of each other's physical features and would use any chance to express this admiration.

The pink haired woman would definitely be in awe of her partner's animal characteristics - whether they are feathers or cat ears, she would often gently drag her fingers across them, whispering how beautiful she is.

"Y'know, sometimes it's hard to believe you are real... You are just so perfect. Makes me question if your existence in my life is just not too good to be true."

In return, the Vastayan would be in awe of Vi's physic and human body. I imagine she would often trace the scars on the woman's arms and back, before jokingly pulling her ear.

"How do you even hear with these small ears? At least they are cute. Just like you, my big strong wife!"

Overall, I think in prison they would have it pretty easy - they would be the 'star couple' so not many inmates would even DARE to challenge or harass them.

Once they are released, however, it would be a real challenge. It would take a lot of work from both sides in order to make it work especially when their priorities start to clash.

cc artwork: "Arcane" concept art