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ahqkas · 14 hours ago

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♯ I PLEDGE ALLEGIANCE TO MY DAD . . . for teaching me everything he knows ( dick grayson & jason todd as dads ! )

— fem!reader as mom, fluff, not edited, based on this req.!!

. . . DICK GRAYSON !

dick was always great with kids; his natural warmth, patience, and humor made him a magnet for them, even before he became a father. he often thought back to his days as robin, remembering how bruce wayne took him in and gave him stability, and he wanted to offer that same feeling ( and definitely more ) to his children.

when you two first talked about having kids, he was equal parts excited and nervous about it. dick worried about balancing family life with his vigilante responsibilities, but he couldn’t wait to start a family with you. he knew that no matter what, you’d face it together

your first child, a boy, inherits your husband’s bright energy and natural charisma. from the moment your son was born, dick was a hands-on dad. midnight feedings? no problem. diaper changes? a breeze ( well, almost ). he approached fatherhood the same way he approached everything else—with passion and a healthy dose of humor

he’s not just the dad who builds the coolest blanket forts or makes pancakes shaped like bats; he’s the dad who listens, encourages, and shows up, no matter how tired he might be after a long night of patrol. even when exhaustion clings to him like a second skin, his kids come first. if his son wants to show him the new drawing he made, dick will sit down and marvel at it as if it belongs in a gallery. if his daughter has a nightmare, he’s at her bedside in seconds, stroking her hair and whispering how she’s okay and nothing’s gonna hurt her while he’s here until she drifts back to sleep

he’s the dad who remembers every detail about his kids’ lives—their favorite bedtime stories, their least favorite vegetables, the songs that make them smile—and makes sure they feel seen and heard every single day. when he’s with them, he’s fully present, setting aside his worries about blüdhaven or the weight of his world. to them, he’s not nightwing; he’s just dad, their safe place, the person they know will always be there no matter what

he teaches your son how to ride a bike, holding the seat steady as those wobbly first attempts make an appearance. “you’ve got this!” dick encourages his son, jogging beside him. when the first scrape happens—knees meeting pavement in a blur of surprise and pain—he’s there in an instant, crouching down with the kind of gentle urgency only a dad can master

his strong arms wrap around his son in a hug that says, i’ve got you, even as tears well up in the young eyes. he’s quick with jokes to soothe the sting, brushing dirt and pebbles off tiny palms. “hey, you know what? you’re officially a biker now. all the pros have scars to prove it.”

it doesn’t matter if he’s running on just a few hours of sleep or if his legs are sore from the night before. he’ll stay on that sidewalk all afternoon if it means helping his son find the courage to get back on the bike

when your daughter is born, it’s as if a new light ignites in dick’s heart, one that’s softer and warmer than anything he’s ever felt before. from the moment he holds her—tiny, delicate, and swaddled in pastel pink—he’s utterly smitten by the baby. his breath catches in his throat as her little fingers curl instinctively around one of his. it’s the smallest thing, but to him, it’s everything. he gazes at her with an awe that rivals the first time he stood under a gotham sunrise after a long patrol as robin

every little thing she does—every yawn, every sleepy coo, even the way she scrunches her nose—melts him completely. he’s the first to volunteer for late-night feedings, cradling her against his chest while whispering soft lullabies. “it’s okay, princess,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing, as if the sound of it alone could shield her from the world

she’s the spitting image of you, but she’s got dick’s sense of curiosity and mischief. as she grows, it’s clear she’s a daddy’s girl through and through. dick spoils her with affection, often carrying her on his shoulders or letting her “style” his hair, even if it means showing up to patrol with hair ties

she’s the one who always convinces him to stay for “just one more bedtime story,” and dick can never say no to those puppy eyes. he does all the voices, acting out scenes with a dramatic flair that leaves her giggling uncontrollably

family movie nights are a regular occurrence. dick lets the kids pick the movie, even if it means sitting through the same animated film for the fifth time. he doesn’t mind—he’s just happy to have everyone snuggled up together

. . . JASON TODD !

jason never thought he’d be a dad. gotham wasn’t kind to kids, and in his darker moments, he felt like it had swallowed the boy he used to be whole. he worried his own traumas—nights spent cold and hungry on the streets, the ache of betrayal, the sting of abandonment—might cast shadows over the kind of father he’d want to be. how could he teach love and trust when his world had been built on survival and second chances?

the thought of holding a child, so small and fragile, scared him more than any villain ever could. what if he didn’t have it in him to be the kind of dad they deserved? what if his sharp edges cut too deep, or worse, he failed to protect them from the city that had failed him? jason had spent so long fighting his way through life that the idea of creating a safe, warm space for someone else felt like trying to plant flowers in a wasteland. and yet, the thought of building something good—something untouchable by gotham’s darkness—stirred a longing in him he couldn’t ignore.

when you told him you were pregnant with your first child, he was stunned silent for a solid minute. then came the slight tremble in his hands as he cradled your face and whispered, “we’re really doing this?” you swore you saw tears in his eyes, though he’d deny it later

he threw himself into preparing for fatherhood. between patrols, you’d catch him reading baby books, jotting down notes in that same serious way he planned missions. ( “what the hell is a diaper genie, baby? is it a genie for diapers, or does it genie them away?” )

when your first daughter was born, jason held her for the first time with an awe. he whispered promises to her, things like, “you’ll never go through what i did,” and “i’m gonna give you the world, princess.”

jason’s daughters own him. his rough, serious ide of personality melts into a puddle of mush when they so much as giggle at him. one pouty face, and he’s done for

when they’re little, he becomes a human jungle gym. they’ll climb all over him, pull on his hair, and stick stickers all over his face while he sits patiently, letting them “decorate” him. ( “you’re turning me into a unicorn, huh? cool. just don’t let your mom take pictures—too late? figures.” )

as they grow, he keeps a close eye on everything, from their friends to the neighborhoods they walk through. he’s not overbearing but has serious dad-radar. if they so much as mention a creepy guy or a mean teacher, he’s all, “do i need to handle this? no? you sure? okay, but say the word.”

by age eight, they’ve both mastered basic self-defense, thanks to “daddy’s fun time karate sessions.” he makes it a game—lots of laughter and encouragement—but underneath it, he’s deadly serious

when they’re older, he teaches them how to change a tire, handle their own money, and, much to your exasperation, how to throw a punch. ( “jason, they don’t need to know how to disarm a grown man at ten years old!” “baby, it’s gotham. yes, they do.” )

he’s the kind of dad who makes pancake breakfasts on weekends, complete with smiley faces and way too much syrup

on father’s day, his daughters surprise him with handmade cards every year. jason’s tough demeanor cracks every time he reads their scrawled messages: “daddy, you’re my hero.”

and jason as a father to teenage girls? lord, help us all.

when his eldest goes on her first date, he plays it cool—for all of two seconds. he grills the poor kid with subtle threats hidden behind a charming smile. ( “so, you like my daughter? good. treat her right, or you’ll have a real bad night. understand?” )

you have to remind him not to tail them when they go out. “jason, they’ll know you’re following them.” “i’ll stay a block behind. they’ll never see me.”

but despite his overprotectiveness, he’s their anchor during tough times. when they experience their first heartbreaks, he is there with hugs, ice cream, and the kind of pep talks that make them laugh through their tears. “anyone who doesn’t see how amazing you are isn’t worth crying over. you’re the todd girl. we don’t settle for less.”

deep down, jason worries about failing them. he knows what it’s like to lose everything, and the thought of his girls experiencing even a fraction of that makes his stomach churn

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xenop0p · 19 hours ago

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It was too late man I’m srry

𝗗𝗘𝗔𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗡 𝗜? - 1𝘒 𝘊𝘌𝘓𝘌𝘉𝘙𝘈𝘛𝘐𝘖𝘕

pairing. dick grayson x fem!angel!reader [wc. 1.6k]

warnings. john constantine, alcohol use, bad smoking habits, you use your brain, mentions of demons and magic, incorrect comic knowledge, dickhead grayson, bad ending

apart of my 1k celebration masterlist repost because first one got a community label

Aleksander, your boyfriend was a great guy, he was tall, handsome, with sandy brown hair and hazel eyes that looked gold in the sun. But on top of that he treated you like a Queen.

He didn't have too much money, but he worked his ass off to give you a good lifestyle. So you never understood why your best friend Dick Grayson didn't like him. Dick was a great guy, if you had to admit you used to have a small crush on him but that quickly went away when you met your boyfriend.

Over time it got awkward for you if you wanted to hang out with both of them, thankfully everytime the three of you met up Dick always brought Kori along. You were never sure why —although it seemed she did and it only amused her further when you didn't realise— but the two of you always got along, you liked Kori and you wished the best for her and Dick's relationship.

You said it to them the first time you met and they seemed so touchy, what concerned you was the angry look in his eyes and the way Jason choked on his drink then started laughing.

You knew what your closest friend was like with women and that's what made you get over him faster than anyone else. He broke more hearts than anyone could count, no matter what persona he took on at night you knew you weren't ready for that kind of heartbreak.

So when you were invited to a Wayne Gala —by Bruce who always thought of you as his daughter— you asked Aleksander to be your plus one.

You stood off towards the side with a few of the original teen titans, reminiscing the times you all had. "remember the time n/n dropped Dick when she was flying?"

You groaned, "to be fair Garth I was rushing around trying to save you all from being poisoned"

"You dropped him?" Aleksander snorted. Normally someone would've been a little concerned but your boyfriend had seen you in action just as you'd seen him.

You were an incarnation of an angel and Aleksander was a very powerful warlock with dark magic, it was fate that the two would meet. It was easy to hide your golden wings thanks to him.

Your head shot up when you saw Roy Harper accompanying Jason Todd, "Roy!" the man turned his head towards the sound of his name and grinned when he saw you, "N/n!"

The two of you met in the middle and he pulled you in for a dramatic hug. You hadn't seen Roy in months after being swept away with your responsibilities helping The Endless. "It's been forever babe!"

You heard Jason muffle laughter behind you. "Hi Jase, let's dance"

Just as you pulled him away a slow song started, looking back you saw Roy wipe a fake tear mouthing something like "they grow up so fast" to Aleksander who was fake crying and holding onto Roy.

Jason let out a huff of amusement when Roy pulled your boyfriend to dance. "Where’ve you been?”

You looked up into his eyes and smiled, “Y’know saving the world, stopping magical entities who want to destroy the universe”

“Oh so the usual?” you hummed, “but that’s not why I wanted to dance with you”

“Oh?”

“Jase, is your brother mad at me or something?”

Jason tilted his head to the side like a puppy, “Dickhead?” you felt bad for asking because Jason really looked like he was thinking hard about why his brother would be mad at you.

He spun you around and once he pulled you back in he muttered, ”I think I might know why big birds mad”

You looked at him with a curious glint in your eyes, “you can’t tell him I told you”

“I promise”

"Aleks he likes me?"

Your boyfriend sighed, "Why do you make it sound like it'd be hard to be in love with you?"

"I— wait what?" you watched as a grin spread across his features. "What?"

"Baby" you whined as he shook his head, "nuh uh, what were you saying before?"

"I love you— wait no that wasn't it" you groaned, "I can't remember—"

"I love you too but we were talking about your friend" he lent back onto the wall pulling out a cigarette and a light —smoking was a habit he picked up from John Constantine, he raised you and he was the man who trained your boyfriend.

"Jase said that he likes me in that way and that's why doesn't like you"

"mhm" he nodded blowing out smoke from between his lips, "I know"

"You knew?!"

"baby, I see the way everyone looks at you" he tugged at your hand, "have to scout for possible competition y'know" his accent was thicker the lower he talked.

When Aleksander heard the door slam open he pulled you into him, dropping the cigarette onto the floor, summoning a few of his guard dogs.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" came Dick Grayson's angry voice, when one of the silver dogs leaped at him obviously sensing its master's distaste for the man in front of them.

"Well, when someone slams open a door it's usually never good" you were hidden from view and you hadn't made your presence known.

You heard Dick mutter, "you bitch, I don't understand why she's with you."

Aleksander let out a mocking laugh, "because she loves me?"

"I doubt anyone could love you"

Aleksander raised a brow, "what do you think love? Can anyone love me?"

Dick's head snapped up to see you protectively held in the other man's embrace and glared at the hand around your waste but his eyes softened when he met your disbelieving gaze.

"Why would you— how could you say something like that?"

"Y/n" when he moved forwards you scrunched your nose in distaste at the strong smell of alcohol, he noticed and stopped moving.

"N/n..." the two of you somehow always managed to read each other's minds.

"what do you want me to do Dick— I can't leave him"

"not even for me?"

You looked away, thinking back to when you first met him.

"Come on! why isn't it working?!" You watched silently from across the room —behind John Constantine— as Dick slammed his fists onto the desk.

"S'alright kid" you looked at John, "don't call me kid"

"Alright then sunshine" you gave him a look and he snorted, "pumpkin patch" he grinned when he saw you facepalm. John didn't understand why he took care of you, he didn't have he knew that but he did regardless. Maybe because deep inside no matter how hard he fought it he was scared that you'd turn out like him.

He knew he saw his reflection in your eyes, he saw the boy he was. Rash, unpredictable, a bit arrogant... scared of not being enough.

You couldn't remember why you were in the batcave that day but you were happy to be there and you made a friend.

You looked at Aleksander who was waiting for you, hand outstretched. It reminded you of when the two of you had first met.

"Hey! Get away from her!" you didn't see much when a bright purple light came out of nowhere.

You were confused, you'd seen magic like this before but not in this form. "Are you alright?" you found yourself face to face with a boy, overgrown sandy hair falling into his eyes, hazel eyes that you'd swear was glowing. He was around the same age as you 15 or 16.

"you're pretty" the words came out of your mouth before you realised you were thinking them. you watched a pink slowly dusted his face and he grinned, "you're prettier"

He pulled you up, steadying you and then let go. "I'm Aleksander"

"Y/n!" you whipped around and was brought into warm arms, "fuck, pumpkin patch I thought you were hurt"

"Sorry Johnny" if anyone the two of you knew were to see this they'd think they were on drugs, mostly because everyone knew John as an arrogant prick who only did things for his own benefit.

You didn't protest when he brought your face into his hands, inspecting for injuries. Instead you scanned his face for any cuts or bruises you could heal for him. You lifted you hand up reaching for the faint tint of purple below his eye, once your hands reached his face they were glowing a faint white-yellow.

"Thanks pumpkin patch" he grinned and moved his eyes to the boy behind them, "who are you?" his tone came off rude and harsh.

"Johnny!" you slapped his arm, he rolled his eyes and the boy behind you smiled. "I'm Aleks"

"Did you do that?" John asked, motioning to the dead demon that was slowly disintegrating. Aleksander nodded and watched as John whispered something in your ear that seemed to make your face light up.

John walked away to smoke, muttering "stupid kid, making me soft." You explained to Aleksander that John offered to take him in and teach him how to control his magic. If the boy had to admit the older man made him nervous but your company made him feel a little more at home. When John came back he looked at you expecting an answer but instead you shrugged as he opened a portal and walked through.

You moved towards the portal and held out your hand towards Aleksander.

Back in the present time you sighed, "he's very dear to me"

"dearer than I?"

Just as Aleksander took your hand that day, you took his today. "I'm sorry Dick" And in a flash of white light you both were gone.

Leaving the man in silence and quiet, he scoffed bottle in hand, he walked away.

#i have no regrets #dickory #oc x reader #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson angst #nightwing x reader #nightwing imagine #nightwing angst #enzo's 1k followers celebration

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natsukicookies · 2 days ago

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The sinful allure

Summary

What you thought was the life of a side character turned out to be the life of the main character!

On your 18th birthday, you discover you're a succubus, and everything you thought you knew about yourself changes.

What’s more, your newfound powers don’t just come with supernatural abilities—they make you act... different. Flirty, confident, and completely unlike your usual shy self.

As if that wasn’t enough, the Batboys have somehow gotten tangled in your life. Balancing secrets, powers, and the chaos they bring? Yeah, happy birthday to you.

< masterlist > chap 1

Your eyes couldn’t leave your phone’s screen as they were locked onto the calendar app. You eyed a specific date with barely contained anticipation noticing that your birthday was approaching. In just a few days, you would turn 18. You were finally going to be an adult. You weren't sure if you felt excited or anxious-maybe a little of both.

With a sigh, you tried to focus back on the teacher's lecture, though your mind was elsewhere.

Turning 18 meant you'd finally be the same age as everyone else in your year.

The class ended, before you realise that, whatever the teacher spoke went in one ear and out the other, Fantastic! Now you were clueless about the chapter and would have to head to the library to study. "Just amazing," you muttered sarcastically under your breath.

As you left the classroom, someone bumped into you in a hurry. "Sorry!" the guy called out as he rushed past. You recognized him instantly-Tim Drake, one of Bruce Wayne's adopted sons, and one of the richest guys in Gotham.

He's one of the 3rd years, in the computer science major, same as you. The two of you even share some of your classes. And yet despite this.

You hadn't talked to him, or really to anyone at this college if you were to be honest. You were more of an introvert... wait, don’t introverts also have friends, but you didn't. A small laugh escaped you at the thought.

It wasn't always like this though,. You used to have friends, but then COVID happened, and all your social skills vanished. There wasn’t much to begin with, but it dropped to zero after that.

And iIf that wasn't bad enough, your mom got transferred to another city for her work, and guess what? It was Gotham City, the crime capital. Thankfully, the one year you'd spent here had been normal,well as normal as it could be in Gotham.

Being suddenly moved, in the middle of your last year of high school mind you, wasn't great. By the time you arrived everyone had their own friend groups, and you didn't fit into any of them. Your lack of social skills not helping either.

High school came and went, college started, but your chances of making friends? Nope, that still seemed like a pipe dream that would never happen.

You headed to your next class, passing the art club where you overheard people talking about Damian Wayne.

Another Wayne? You rolled your eyes at the name. You weren't really fond of the rich kids- most of them weren't great.

But then again, this was Gotham State University, and a lot of rich kids were here. To this day, you still had no idea how your mom managed to get you into this college. Did her job really pay that much? Definitely not.

Not caring much about it, you took a seat in an empty spot and watched the day fly by.

That was your norm- going to college, judge people,head home to do your course work and other stuff, then repeat, it was a cycle

It was seriously boring.

Guess that's the life of a side character for you.

Your attention shifted as you heard your name being called by your mom. "Are you still wearing that pendant?" Of course, that was the question she always asked. You knew her obsession with that pendant all too well. Whenever you were asked, she would respond with, "You must wear that pendant forever and never take it off, even for a second."

At this point, you were used to it, but still, her asking the same question every week for years kind of got on your nerves. "Yes, Mom, I am." You couldn't help but roll your eyes as you continued to watch TV.

Your mom did her usual routine, reminding you not to open the door for strangers (typical mom) and telling you what food was in the refrigerator before heading off to work.

Your mom was hardly home; like 90% of the time, she was at work. You didn't blame her for that now that you were older. She was a single mom working hard to support both of you.

Well, you tried not to blame her, at least. But there were still those moments.

Now the movie you were watching didn't seem fun anymore because of those thoughts. Cursing under your breath, you turned off the TV and headed to your room, passing by the mirror.

Stopping in your tracks and stepping back, you stared at your reflection. You looked normal; nothing seemed out of place, but you could have sworn you saw something whilst walking past it.

You shrugged it off and went to your room, chalking it up to your imagination.

The next few days went by and it's the night before your birthday. You're alone in the house, because of course your mom has work to take care of.

The next few days passed in a blur, and soon it was the night before your birthday. You were alone in the house, of course, since your mom had to work -again.

You were her only child, yet she didn't even have time for your 18th birthday. "Amazing mom," you muttered, trying to push down the bitterness creeping in. You scrolled aimlessly through your phone, distracting yourself from the thoughts swirling in your mind.

You watched the clock hit 11:48 and decided you might as well get that cupcake out and blow some candles- that's the only thing you can blow anyway.

As you moved around the kitchen, you kept catching glimpses of strange things out of the corner of your eye-like objects floating slightly before settling down. But every time you turned, everything seemed perfectly normal.

You shook your head, Maybe you were getting sleepy? You really hoped that was the case because you were not up for a ghost fight on your birthday.

By the time you set up the cupcake, the clock read 11:58. Just two more minutes, and you'd officially be 18- meaning you won't be able to use your 'sir I'm a minor' card but hey, you could at least legally drink wine now... if you could afford any.

You quickly lit up the candle and waited till the clock hit 12

"Happy birthday to me" you wished right on midnight as you closed your eyes to blow out the candle "I hope for a change this year"

Opening your eyes expecting to see the same old living room only to be met with a pair of bloody red eyes staring at you from High up.

A wave of fear washed over you making your body freeze. As you took in your surroundings, you were indeed not in your living room anymore. This wasn’t what you meant when you wished for a change this year...

"Worry not, my child," a deep voice echoed. you can't see its face or what it is, all you see is a shadow like figure on a throne which was placed on.... your eyes widened as you realized it was human skulls.

Oh you were a goner, you just knew it.

"You are not a goner" Did he- guessing by the voice- read your thoughts? You weren't even gonna question how, none of this was making sense so it's better to just not use the logical side of your brain and just roll with it.

"You must have a lot of questions," he spoke, amusement clear in his voice, as he rested his cheek on his hand.

You nodded, you definitely did.

"Good, let's add one more" he pointed at you, more specifically at your clothes.

"Huh?" You looked down and felt your face heat up. Your outfit wasn't the one you'd been wearing-it was something much more revealing, leaving you scrambling to cover yourself with your hands.

"What is going on?" you stammered, cheeks flushed.

The figure burst into laughter, seeming to enjoy your reaction a little too much. Finally, after calming down, he explained.

According to him, you were a succubus. A... what now?!

And hence the reason for things floating around in the air and you seeing stuff in the mirror.

Did it make sense? No, absolutely not. Was he gonna explain more? It didn't seem like it.

"So you’re saying.... that I have to have.... sex with.... guys now?" you asked, cutting to the question weighing on your mind

"Girls work too," he replied you could hear the smirk from his tone.

Your jaw dropped at his casual response. "Girls work too"? This was insane. You barely managed to talk to people as it was, and now you were expected to seduce them? The thought alone made you want to dig a hole and hide in it.

"So, let me get this straight," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "You're telling me that, overnight, I turned into... a succubus. And now I have to... you know... with people? Just to survive?"

The shadow figure leaned back in his throne, still smirking. "That's the short version, yes. But it's not quite as dire as you're imagining." He seemed amused, as if he could see the whirlwind of emotions playing out on your face. "You'll get used to it. Besides, a succubus's charm is automatic. Your appeal will increase naturally, even without you trying."

You blinked, taking a shaky breath. This was all too much. "But why me? Why now? I've gone my whole life without... without feeling like this."

"That's the way it works," he said simply. "Eighteen is the age when your powers awaken. And now that they have, you'll start to feel new urges and... influences."

Influences? That didn't sound reassuring.

"Here's how it works," he continued, clearly enjoying your unease. "When you're in your succubus form, your personality will shift to help you attract... let's say, energy sources. You won't even recognize yourself. And in your regular form, you'll be-"

"Shy and quiet?" you guessed dryly, crossing your arms over your revealing outfit. "Because that's how I normally am."

"Precisely," he replied, giving you an almost fatherly nod. "But in your other form, you'll become... well, let's call it 'confident.' All of this will be second nature soon enough."

This wasn't exactly reassuring, but you nodded, still struggling to process everything. Then a thought struck you, and you bit your lip. "So... if I need energy, does that mean I... you know... with anyone who-"

"Relax," he cut in smoothly. "You don't have to go that far if you're not comfortable with it. Succubi draw energy in a lot of ways: touch, presence, even just eye contact. What matters is connection. The deeper the connection, the stronger the energy you receive."

You let out a sigh of relief. That, at least, took some pressure off. But even then, none of this felt remotely possible for you.

"How will I even know when to... when to switch forms or get energy? I have no idea what I'm doing!"

The figure let out an amused chuckle "Ah, but that's the fun of it, isn't it? You'll learn as you go. The instincts are within you, even if they're dormant right now. When you need them, they'll surface."

He rose from his throne, the shadowy shape growing even larger as he seemed to loom over you. "And remember, child," he said, his voice suddenly serious. "You have a gift. Use it wisely-and sparingly. Too much charm, too quickly, could draw attention... and not the good kind."

With that final ominous warning, he snapped his fingers, and the room around you began to swirl and blur, as if reality itself was being pulled out from under your feet.

Before you could react, you found yourself back in your living room, alone and staring at the cupcake in front of you, the candle still flickering.

You blinked, heart racing. "Did that... really happen?"

Just then, your phone buzzed, snapping you back to reality. A birthday text from your mom.

You ignored the message and blew out the candle, the excitement from earlier completely drained. As you reached out to remove the candle, you froze. Your clothes... they hadn't changed back to normal.

So, that really did happen...

Heart pounding, you ran to the mirror. Standing in front of it, you realized two things. First: you actually looked... really hot. And second: your appearance had changed. Your eyes were now a striking pink, and small, barely-there horns peeked out from the top of your head.

Curious, you reached up to touch one of them- only to let out a surprised whine. Sensitive. Those little horns were tiny but extremely sensitive.

"How do I change back to normal?" you muttered with a nervous laugh,thinking of every scenario this could go wrong.

Shoulders slumping, you trudged back to your cupcake, peeled off the wrapper, and stuffed the whole thing into your mouth. You probably looked like a chipmunk, but who cared? You had bigger problems-like, for instance, the horns or the bright pink eyes.

As you chewed, you couldn't help but wonder who-or what-that shadowy figure was. He seemed to know way more than he was letting on.

But... how exactly were you supposed to summon him again? You tried doing a strange little "summoning dance," waving your arms around in a circle, but nothing happened.

Wait a second. Weren't succubus supposed to have superpowers? That would be amazing! You'd always wanted powers like Superman or Wonder Woman.

The real problem was... how on earth were you supposed to activate these so-called powers?

Stepping out onto the balcony, you stared at... the wall across from you. Not the most inspiring view-just the brick wall of the building next door, practically in arm's reach. You let out a sigh. "Well, it's not like I'm swinging across rooftops anytime soon," you muttered.

Still... maybe you could try something. Like super strength! Or maybe some kind of powerful leap? Not that you were about to actually jump off the balcony- you weren't that reckless, but if you had powers, how were you supposed to... what, think power on? Activate?

You stretched your arms forward dramatically. "Powers, activate!" Nothing happened. You waved your hands around a bit, wiggled your fingers, even struck a ridiculous pose for good measure. Nada.

"Well, that's disappointing," you grumbled, heading back inside quietly before anyone saw you looking like a wannabe superhero.

Or so you tried to-until you stepped right onto that one loose board on the balcony. The next thing you knew, your ankle twisted in the ridiculously high heels that came with this outfit, and suddenly, you were tilting forward with nothing to grab onto.

And just like that, you found yourself tumbling over the edge.

"Oh, crap! Crap, crap, crap!" you screamed in panic as you fall from the third floor, arms flailing like a bird that had no idea how to fly.

Your mind raced in pure panic as the ground rushed closer. 'This is it' you thought. You just became a succubus and You're about to be a splat on the pavement. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for impact.

But... it never came.

Instead, you felt a strange pull at your core, and you slowed down, hovering just a few feet above the ground. You opened your eyes cautiously, and sure enough, you were floating there mid-air, bobbing slightly like a very confused balloon.

You blinked, stunned. "Did I... just fly?"

Testing it out, you tried to move forward. You wobbled awkwardly, managing to drift a few feet before tilting sideways, nearly tipping over. Okay, this was gonna take some practice.

Still floating, you managed to get back up to your balcony, though not without a few embarrassing bumps along the way.-we don't talk about that- When you finally got back over the railing and landed safely, you let out a deep breath, half-relieved, half-excited.

"So I have powers," you muttered, grinning in spite of yourself.

And behold, this was the moment a very dumb idea went through your head. Did I mention it was dumb? Because, yeah, it was very dumb.

Without a second thought, you decided you might as well check out Gotham at night. Hey, it was a great excuse to test out your powers, right?

With that brilliant thought in mind, you stepped onto the railing of your balcony and, this time, willingly jumped off. Floating in midair, you felt that thrill again-flying was actually getting easier! Or, so you thought. One glance to the left, and suddenly you were veering off course, wobbling wildly as you struggled to stay steady.

You almost crashed right into the huge Wayne Enterprises billboard, narrowly avoiding it by flailing your arms and kicking your legs like a panicked duck.

You found yourself butt-landing onto a fire escape, the metal steps clanging loud enough to make you wince. So much for a graceful first flight.

"Ow," you muttered, rubbing your sore backside. At least you didn't end up face-first in a dumpster. That was something, right?

You pushed yourself up, dusted off, and looked around to make sure no one had seen that very professional landing.

Thankfully, this part of Gotham is usually empty half the time, sparing you from total embarrassment.

You considered that maybe flying wasn't the best idea after all, so you opted for the stairs instead-only to regret that decision a second later.

Those metal stairs combined with your high, pointy heels-which you had no idea how you managed to walk in-were a disaster waiting to happen. Your heels kept getting stuck in the small gaps between the stairs, turning what should have been a simple task into a clumsy game of balance.

Somehow, you managed to get down the stairs and stayed in the shadows, not wanting to attract unwanted attention. As you walked, you stumbled upon what appeared to be a bank robbery.

The bank was small, tucked away in a shady area-no wonder there were no police around. Let's be honest: the police in Gotham really don't do shit anyway. And God knows where vigilantes were...

You gripped the little clothing you had on, your feet glued to the floor-not because of the metal stairs this time, but out of sheer hesitation.

Here's the thing: you may have newfound powers, but you weren't a vigilante. You had no idea how to fight or even how to use your abilities yet. Rushing in recklessly to save people you didn't even know? Not the best plan.

Plus, Batman or one of his allies would probably show up and handle the situation, right?

That was the plan, right...?

Then a loud scream echoed through the air, followed by a gunshot, and your heart stopped. Someone could be dead right now, and you had the power to save them.

But you weren't a vigilante; you were merely a succubus, a very new one too.

"Go," a calm but familiar voice echoed in your ear, and before you could process what was happening, you found yourself sprinting toward the bank. Peering through the windows, you spotted three masked men holding a few bank staff hostage. Luckily, there weren't any customers inside-thankfully, they were closed for the night.

If you remembered correctly, the shadow figure had mentioned that you had the ability to charm people. Maybe that could come in handy?

Glancing around, you searched for a way in. The front door was clearly not an option, and as you walked around the building, you didn't find a back door either. But then, you spotted it: a bathroom window just large enough for you to squeeze through.

Were you seriously about to do this?

You took a deep breath, letting the anticipation wash over you. "You're supposed to do crazy things on your 18th birthday, right?" With an awkward laugh, you opened the window and began to climb in-only to find yourself stuck halfway through, your legs kicking awkwardly as you tried to free yourself.

"Yeah no I'm not going to end up being the stuck stepsister of the night," you muttered, finally wriggling yourself free and tumbling into the small bathroom with a thud.

You glanced around, taking a moment to catch your breath. "Okay, focus," you whispered to yourself.

It seemed the loud thud had caught the attention of one of the thieves, and the door swung open to reveal one of them standing in front of you, gun in hand.

"Um..." you stammered awkwardly, standing there like a deer caught in headlights. How were you supposed to charm this guy again?

You tried winking-after all, that's what people do to charm someone, right?

"Who the fuck are you?" he growled, his expression a mix of confusion and irritation.

Yep, that didn't work at all. You were definitely done for.

"I... I'm just a girl," you blurted out, trying to sound as harmless as possible.

But instead of calming him down, your words seemed to fuel his anger. He raised the gun and fired, but thankfully, you managed to duck just in time, letting out a small scream as you covered your head with your arms.

"Actually... you don't look so bad," he said, his eyes darkening as he sized you up with a new, unsettling interest.

You cringed at his words, hearing his footsteps approach as he towered over your crouched form. Just as he leaned in to grab you, you shot up, your head colliding with his chin. He staggered backward and dropped to the floor, completely knocked out.

Wait... did that actually work? That hadn't exactly been your plan, but hey, you weren't complaining.

Seeing him sprawled out on the ground made you feel a spark of confidence. You grinned and stepped over his unconscious form, making sure to grind your heel into the hand that had nearly grabbed you. "Oh," you muttered, noticing his gun. Quickly, you grabbed it-you might need a little extra help.

Alright, one down, two more to go.

Peeking out the door, you saw one of the other robbers tapping his foot impatiently. "What's taking that idiot so long?" he grumbled, glancing around.

Most of the bank staff were tied up, while two unlucky ones were filling a bag with cash at gunpoint. You bit your lip, trying to think. Maybe you could lure one of them away? You definitely can't two men at once, especially since this was your first time.

"Where are the vigilantes when you need them?" you mumbled, pressing your face into your palm in frustration. "If only I could turn invisible..."

Suddenly, you noticed your hand start to go translucent. You stared, wide-eyed, as the rest of your body began fading too. "I'm not freaking out... I'm not freaking out... I'm freaking out!" you whispered to yourself, resisting the urge to yell.

You'd wanted to turn invisible, but this was surreal-like being a ghost!

Were you going to complain? Absolutely not. After your momentary panic, a wicked grin spread across your face. you rubbed your hands together like a fly- wait why like a fly?

You crept out of the door without a sound, approaching one of the robbers. With a swift punch to his face, he crumpled to the ground, catching the attention of his partner. Before he could react, you followed up with a well-placed kick to his...pp area. Both men went down, groaning on the floor.

Quickly, you gathered their weapons, but after glancing around, you realized you didn't have any rope or anything to tie them up with. Letting out a sigh, you began thinking of your next move, when your ears picked up stood steps approaching.

It seems your senses have been improved.

The front doors burst open, and a vigilante strode in. You quietly tiptoed to the side, raising an eyebrow. What kind of hero just barges in through the front door? You rolled your eyes, watching as he surveyed the scene in confusion.

Just as you thought you could slip out, he whipped out a baton and threw it your way. "Wha-!" You barely managed to dodge it, shooting him side eyes.

"Can't have you sneaking away now, can I?" he said smoothly, his gaze following your movement. Wait... could he see you? You glanced down, still invisible. How did he know?

Picking your jaw off the floor, you started to say something, but quickly changed your mind. He was nightwing, trained by Batman himself, so of course he'd sense someone was there.

You let out a small sigh and turned off your invisibility, meeting his now slightly widened eyes. He recovered quickly, though, looking unfazed.

"There's one unconscious in the bathroom," you said confidently, gesturing with a nod toward the door.

He glanced down at the two men on the ground, too dazed to move. "You... did all this?"

You nodded, but before he could ask another question, you bolted toward the door-or at least, you tried to. Just as you were about to step outside, his hand shot out, grabbing you firmly and stopping you in your tracks.

"Ah-!" you squeaked, pausing with a pout. "I'm not a villain," you insisted, crossing your arms with as much indignation as you could muster.

He raised an eyebrow. "Then who are you?"

You blinked, holding his gaze, before a mischievous smirk spread across your face. Your eyes glowed a little more pink as you leaned in, voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "The girl who's going to haunt your dirtiest dreams."

Before he could even react, you somehow slipped out of his grip, leaving him standing there bewildered as you sprinted out of the bank.

Not looking back, you floated all the way back to your apartment, bumping into things left and right. Each impact made you cringe a little harder-not just from the bumps, but from the embarrassing line you'd dropped earlier. "The girl who will appear in your dirtiest dream?" Seriously? You wanted to disappear just thinking about it.

As soon as you got inside, you headed straight for the couch, burying your face in a pillow with a groan. The scene replayed in your head on a loop for a good 30 minutes before you finally managed to shift your focus to something else: how on earth to turn back to normal.

Rolling onto your side, you caught a glint of something under the coffee table. Reaching out lazily, you pulled it closer and realized it was the pendant-the one you were supposed to keep on you at all times. Without thinking, you slipped it back around your neck.

And just like that, your clothes transformed back to normal.

You rushed over to the mirror and sure enough, you looked like yourself again-mostly. Your eyes still held a slight hint of pink, but you doubted anyone would notice.

Curious, you decided to test your theory. Taking off the pendant, you watched as the tiny horns reappeared. So that was the trick!

"Oh, cool" you mumbled under your breath, putting it back on.

Maybe it was the adrenaline finally wearing off, or the sheer chaos of tonight catching up with you, but you felt yourself teetering on the edge of exhaustion, just one step away from crashing right there in the living room.

But no-somehow, you managed to scrape together the last bit of energy to drag yourself toward your bedroom. Your steps were slow, heavy, almost zombie-like. If anyone saw you now, they might actually mistake you for the undead, stumbling down the hall with only the thought of collapsing on your bed keeping you moving.

You let out a tired sigh, replaying flashes of the night in your mind. The discovery, the thrill, the whole insane twist your life took in just a few short hours. And now...you were supposed to go back to normal? Act like this was just another day at college?

Flopping onto your bed, you closed your eyes, leaving the problems to the future you to deal with as you let the sleep fairy take you to the dreamland.

Yall thank @purplexing-writing-and-concepts for beta reading it <33

I have no idea when chap 1 will be out, hopefully in a month or so.

✎ ∙︓⋅⠄✯∘⠄✧

Taglist: @xingyunny @4rachn3

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ozuuoou · 1 day ago

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☆ edging bluebird? fuck yeah.

On rare occasions, vigilantes get days off. In particular, you and Dick Grayson, aka Nightwing. For your day off, both of you wanted a slow and lazy day, not going out, just laying together and enjoying indoors, doing recreational activities.

All was well. You baked cookies together, watched movies, made each other bracelets, and whatnot. But now, it's the evening, and both of you are situated in the bathroom, with Dick sitting on the chair and you positioned on top of him, gently placing the collagen masks that you put on yourself every night during skincare time.

It was supposed to be cute, until it wasn't. With your shuffling and bustling on top of him, something else needed some tending. And god, does he hate himself. Mentally, he's berating himself. I mean, look at you-so determined to put the products on his face-and he's just sitting there, tensing up.

And yes, it got worse. When you stood up to get the mask, and when you sat down on him a little rougher than the last time. That, that was the time when his head was about to blow off. But thanks to your cute Hello Kitty headband, his head is still luckily intact. Unable to do anything, he just sat there, looking at your serious face, imagining a whole lot of scenes. He could practically taste your presence, imagining you sitting down and grinding right on top of him instead of doing whatever the hell is happening outside his trance.

He shifted and tried to subtly adjust himself in his soft, cotton Batman-printed pajamas, taking a few shaky breaths. Maybe if he just relaxed for a moment, he could get his head back on track. But no, all he feels is the way your breathing hitches as you start to press yourself even closer to him, how you moan as he grabs your hips a little tighter. His mind wanders even further now, thinking about you being in his lap, how your legs would wrap around him as you lean over and move down to kiss his neck.

Suddenly, he was snapped out of his little bubble when you called his name for the nth time, telling him to rinse his face. Flustered and praying you didn't notice, he got up and started to let the cold water run on his heated face.

But when he closed his eyes, hoping to relax, he could practically hear the sound of your voice in his ear, whispering things to him in a soft tone, maybe telling him how he's a good boy or how he's doing so well, or how he's not allowed to touch you until you say so. Fuck you. No, wait, fuck him.

And when he's finally done, you greet him with a towel, drying him off ever so slowly. It's hard doing so when you're on your tippy toes, you know. He sees this and thinks it's sensible to just carry you, settle you on the sink, and trap you with his ever-hardening... rod.

Overall, he just seemed in a daze, and seeing this struck concern on your face because earlier he seemed alive, but now he's basically limping.

#dick grayson #nightwing #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dc smut #dick grayson x female!reader

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sillygoose067 · 2 days ago

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A Masked Promise

Ch.6

Dick Grayson (Nightwing) x Reader

The door to The Chariot swung open, breaking the calm of a quiet afternoon. You looked up, expecting another regular, but instead, your gaze landed on a familiar face. Dick Grayson—tall, broad-shouldered, with those striking blue eyes that always seemed to see right through you—was standing in the doorway.

It had been weeks since he’d last stepped through the door, and you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of surprise, mixed with something else you couldn’t quite name.

“Mr. Grayson,” you greeted, your voice a little more startled than you intended. The words felt almost too formal after all the playful teasing between you. You made yourself smile, trying to mask the flurry of thoughts in your head.

He raised an eyebrow at you, his lips quirking into a faint, amused grin. “Still calling me ‘Mr. Grayson’? Thought we were past that.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I mean, what else am I supposed to call you? Sir Grayson?” You raised your eyebrows teasingly, sliding a mug across the counter toward him. “You’re not getting a free pass on the whole ‘Dick’ thing. That’s just… weird.”

His grin widened, and he took the mug, his fingers brushing yours for a brief moment. It wasn’t anything, really, but there was something about the touch—something that made your heart race just a little bit faster.

“Sir Grayson, huh?” he mused. “I think I can get used to that.”

He took a sip of the coffee you’d made for him, settling onto the stool across from the counter like it was the most natural thing in the world. You tried to act casual, to pretend you weren’t immediately thrown off by the fact that he was here—after so long—and that he seemed so… comfortable.

“Been a while,” you remarked, your tone light but curious. “What’s been keeping you busy, Mr. Grayson?”

He shifted slightly, that all-too-familiar guarded look crossing his features for just a split second. But then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the easy smile he usually wore. “You know. Life. Things. Nothing you’d be interested in.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused but not pressing further. You knew better than to ask about the ‘other’ side of his life, especially after how elusive he was with how he wanted to help Rachel. It wasn’t something you expected him to open up about, not here, not now, and certainly not with you.

“How about you?” he asked after a pause, his gaze shifting back to you. “How’s everything going?”

“Same old, same old,” you said, waving a hand around the café. “Work, coffee, customers. Nothing groundbreaking.”

He nodded, taking another sip. “It’s good to see you, though,” he said, looking directly at you. His voice was softer now, more genuine. “I’ve missed coming here.”

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, but you quickly masked it with a laugh. “Missed me, huh?” you teased, trying to keep things light. “Don’t worry, Sir Grayson. I won’t let you go too long without your coffee fix.”

A quiet moment passed, and you found yourself oddly aware of the space between you. It wasn’t the usual easy banter you had when he visited. This time, something felt… different.

Finally, after what seemed like a pause too long, Dick set his mug down. His expression changed, becoming more serious, and you blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift.

“I was wondering,” he started slowly, his voice low and steady, “if you’d like to go out with me sometime.”

You froze, the words hanging in the air between you like a dare. You blinked at him, trying to read his face, but he wasn’t giving anything away. You wanted to laugh it off, to make some snarky comment about how this was the punchline to some elaborate joke, but you didn’t. Instead, you tried to mask the sudden wave of nerves rising in your chest.

“Like a date?” you repeated, trying to keep your tone light and playful, though the words felt a little heavy. You leaned back against the counter, crossing your arms as you gave him a teasing smile. “Guess I’m doing pretty well if someone like you is asking me out.”

Dick raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise in his blue eyes. “You’re laughing it off because you’re nervous, right?”

Your breath caught in your throat. You could feel the nervous heat creeping up your neck. “Oh, no! Not nervous, I’m just… you know, not really a date person.” You quickly waved your hand, trying to shrug it off. “I’ve never really done the whole ‘date’ thing. But, uh, you’re not the first guy to ask, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

There was a beat of silence, and you quickly tried to cover up your discomfort with a forced laugh. “Honestly, I just kind of… well, I figured people like me don’t really get asked out, so… you know, I never bothered. Guess it’s nice to know I’m not completely off the radar, though.”

But Dick didn’t laugh. His expression softened, the usual lightness gone. He leaned in slightly, those piercing blue eyes studying you intently, as if searching for something in your gaze.

“You’ve never been on a date?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost incredulous.

You felt a twinge of discomfort wash over you. “Yeah, well… I’ve been busy, and it’s not like anyone’s exactly lining up to take me out.” You shifted uncomfortably. “I’m used to it, really. It’s fine. I don’t need anyone to—”

Dick cut you off, his voice firm but not unkind. “That’s not true.” He paused, his eyes not leaving yours. “And I’m asking because I want to. Not because I think you need someone to fill some empty space. You’re not invisible.”

You felt your chest tighten at his words, the weight of them sinking in deeper than you expected. The humor you’d been trying to mask it with slipped away, and for a moment, you just stood there, caught off guard by his sincerity.

“Okay, okay,” you said after a beat, your voice a little quieter now, as if you were still trying to find the right words. “I’ll go out with you. Just… don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’m terrible at this whole thing.” You added a wry grin, but there was a new softness to it. “But I’ll try.”

Dick’s lips curled into a smile, one that made you feel like you were the only person in the room. “I’m not worried. We’ll make it fun. I’ll pick you up tomorrow night after your shift. I’ll take care of everything.”

You nodded, a mix of excitement and nerves filling you. “Alright, Mr. Grayson. I’ll see you then.”

As he turned to leave, you couldn’t help but notice how your heart beat a little faster, how the simple thought of tomorrow made everything feel just a little more… possible. Maybe you were finally stepping out of the routine, out of the boundaries you’d built for yourself. Maybe, just maybe, this was the start of something new.

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vinamari · 5 months ago

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How it feels going to bed after reading some words

It was angst

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dollishmehrayan · 3 days ago

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# BATBOYS WITH A CLASSIC LITERATURE LOVER ── .✦ ( batboys with a s/o who loves/majors in literature )

a/n: this is requested by my amazing @kvfkas 🫶💕, I Lowkey for some reason also love literature too but like it’s hard for me to open a new book because I’m like so busy almost everyday but anywayss && I still can’t get over that one of my record players BROKE. So I can’t play my vinyls until I buy a new one which I ordered yesterday. Tags: (batboys x classic literature lover)

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Dick thinks it’s adorable how much you love classic literature. He often finds you curled up with a book that looks like it’s been through several lifetimes, the pages dog-eared and filled with your meticulous annotations.

He loves watching you get animated when you talk about your favorite books, even if he sometimes gets lost when you start referencing ancient Greek tragedies or 19th-century poetry.

“Wait, so you’re saying Achilles was in love with Patroclus? Why didn’t they just say that in school?”

If you major in classics, Dick would try to support you by attending your lectures or even helping you prep for exams. He’d quiz you on authors and historical contexts, even if he can barely pronounce some of the names.

Romantic Moments: On your birthday, he surprises you with a first edition copy of your favorite book, complete with a handwritten note tucked inside the front cover. “I don’t understand half of what’s in this book, but I know it makes you happy, so that’s all that matters.”

He’d ask you to read to him sometimes, enjoying the sound of your voice as much as the words themselves. "You make these stories sound even better, you know that?"

JASON TODD ── .✦

Jason is completely enamored with how passionate you are about classic literature. He gets it; books saved his life, too.

He finds your annotations fascinating and sometimes steals your books to read through them, not just for the story, but to get a glimpse into how your mind works.

“You think Heathcliff is a terrible person, but you still love him? Explain that one to me.” He’d genuinely love hearing your reasoning, even if it ends in a spirited debate.

If you’re majoring in classics, Jason would definitely tease you about it: “So, what, you’re gonna be the next Indiana Jones but with books?” But deep down, he’s incredibly proud of you. (He has dreams of being a literature professor)

Romantic Moments: One day, he surprises you with a day trip to a small, dusty bookstore he found, knowing it’s exactly your kind of place. “Take your time. I’ve got all day,” he says, leaning against a shelf as you lose yourself in the aisles.

He’d also write little notes on scraps of paper and leave them in your books when you’re not looking: “You’re way cooler than Jane Eyre.” “That’s a lie jason.”

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Tim would be absolutely in awe of your love for classic literature. He’s a voracious reader himself, so he’d immediately start asking for recommendations.

He’s amazed by how thoughtful and detailed your annotations are. He’ll flip through one of your books and go, “You should publish these. People would pay good money for your insights.”

If you’re majoring in classics, Tim would make it his mission to help you however he can. Need to translate something from Latin or Greek? He’s on it. Got a big paper due? He’ll proofread it for you.

Romantic Moments: On a particularly stressful day, he sets up a cozy reading nook for you, complete with your favorite snacks and a stack of books he thought you’d like. “Figured you could use some time to unwind.”

He’d get into the habit of reading the same books as you so he can discuss them with you. “Okay, but why does everyone hate Tess of the d’Urbervilles? I think she deserved better.”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Damian would find your love of classic literature incredibly admirable. He appreciates intellectual pursuits and sees your passion as a sign of your depth and intelligence.

He’d be the one to challenge your opinions on certain characters or themes, sparking debates that sometimes last for hours.

“I fail to see why Mr. Darcy is considered romantic. He was insufferable for most of the novel.” But he secretly loves how animated you get defending your point.

(I’m gonna age him up for this one NO NSFW THOUGH HE’S STILL A MINOR BUT JUST FOR THE SAKE OF MAJORS) If you’re majoring in classics, Damian would take great pride in your academic achievements. He’d even start reading some of the books you mention, just so he can keep up with you.

Romantic Moments: He’d commission a custom leather-bound edition of your favorite book, embossed with your initials on the cover. “For someone as remarkable as you, only the finest will suffice.”

He’d also secretly annotate one of the books you’ve been wanting him to read and leave it for you to find. His notes are sharp, insightful, and, of course, slightly snarky.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Bruce has always been a lover of knowledge, so he’d find your love for classic literature incredibly endearing.

He’d be genuinely impressed by your annotations and sometimes ask to borrow your books just to see your thoughts on them.

“You’ve given me a new perspective on The Great Gatsby,” he’d say after flipping through your copy.

If you’re majoring in classics, Bruce would offer to fund any research or study trips you need. “A visit to Greece would certainly enhance your studies. Consider it an investment.”

Romantic Moments: He’d host a quiet evening in the Wayne library, just for the two of you. The fireplace crackles softly as you sit side by side, reading and sharing passages that resonate with you.

He’d also make a habit of surprising you with rare editions of your favorite books, each one more breathtaking than the last.

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sirxlla · 2 days ago

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Flashing the batboys in the middle of an argument

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

Dick: "Oh...Oh. Okay? Um... Where were we?" His mind went fuzzy like a cloud of cotton candy. It was like you put his brain into a mixer he completely tried to remember his entire point and it was right there on the tip of his tongue but he was completely distracted and missing it entirely

Jason: "Babygirl, don't start something you can't finish." He smirks, the entire argument clearly leaving his brain as he walks twords you with lust clear in his eyes. The both of you can agree how stupid the fight was but you could also both agree that the makeup sex was gonna be great.

Bruce: The way this man doesn't even remotely realize because the fact of the matter is his mind's on something entirely different even as he was arguing with you. Even as he's looking directly at you his brain isn't even remotely registering what's in front of him because he's distracted by his thoughts and whatever other shit is going on in Gotham.

Tim: The second it happened is cheeks are flooded with color and he covered his mouth shyly and turned away smiling and blushing. His whole entire being had forgot the entire argument and the fact that you were even arguing in the first place.

Damian: Dont even try it, he isn't even remotely happy with that idea and irritation in his face gets even more great "Are you kidding me right now? This conversation is important. Be serious about this, this isnt a joke." As much as he loved your body, he loved you being alive to be in it and he was serious about the topic at hand. He was never one to get into arguments for stupid shit or over someone he didnt care about. If he thought it was dumb he wouldn't take the time or effort to even have a conversation, let alone have an argument.

Masterlist

#batboys x reader #bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader #tim drake x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #batboys

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screamingplastictoenail88 · 2 days ago

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Someone resuscitate me

need to watch dick's biceps flex as he bullies his fingers in my cunt

MINORS DNI 18+

NOTES: DC is for December Event! — request DC characters.

“You like the show, baby?” DICK GRAYSON asks with a hint of amusement, goading you into a response he knows you’ll struggle to be capable of. You pant through your open mouth, the sensation of his fingers plowing your guts all that courses through your mind through now. The acrobat seems to forget you’re not as flexible as him as he forces you to curl to watch your own pussy get battered. An ache thrums through your neck while he pulls your head forward with his other palm at the back of your neck, keeping that eye contact on exactly where he wants it to be.

The wet stain of your squirt still glistens on his forearm, spattered up to his elbow in little dots. You bite your own lip at the sight, and peer up through your lashes to follow it. Every vein of his is pronounced in his arms, swollen from the effort of directing your every movement, and drilling that spongy spot inside of you. You keen a little higher each time, your body beginning to squirm under his touch, but he wrestles you back where he wants you, continuing to bully your g-spot.

Fingering you is a work-out, and one he takes great pride in. As if all his training as been for maintaining a constant pace in his natural piston, scooping the inside of you with three dizzying fingers. You can see it in the way his biceps flex keeping you in place by the scruff of your neck, and fucking you on his other hand. Your expression twists up, tears burning your eyes as you’re nearing the edge, your body tensing up. “That’s it, baby, that’s it. That’s what I want. Give it to me.” he encourages you, talking you through it.

#ch: dick #dick grayson drabble #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson smut #nightwing x reader #x reader smut #me fr fr

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gaypirate420 · 7 months ago

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Dick Grayson by Dan Mora you will always be famous.

#nightwing #dick grayson #robin dick grayson #dan mora #batfamily #nightwing x reader #dick grayson x reader

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ellana-ravenwood · 2 months ago

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“Batman, you need to-IS THAT A BABY ?!” - Batfam x Fem!reader

Synopsis : Bruce and Batmom bring their newborn daughter to the Watchtower, so she can meet their friends (or vice versa). Includes an overprotective Damian, League members who cannot believe the Batman is smiling, and other shenanigans.

Oop, I’m back (?). My dudes. It’s been TWO YEARS since I last posted here. Two. Years. I posted like, two life update...don’t know if some of y’all saw it, but long story short : I got married, I have a son now, and everything is going so well in my life that I didn’t really need the validation I got from writing online...Buuuuuuuuuuuuut, I still love writing. And so, after quite a long break, here I am :). Hope you will enjoy this, don’t hesitate to let me know if you do :

Please, do not repost my stories anywhere else, under any other form. Do not translate and then repost them either. Thank you.

My masterlist : @ella-ravenwood-archives

________________________________________________

“You’re evil, you know that right ?” You say, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, my love.” He answers, a small smile on his lips. You turn to him and...Oh that smug look, that smug look you loved so much. He definitely DEFINITELY knew what he was doing.

And that it was utterly...evil.

“It’s going to be FUN !”

Ah, and here’s his little devil. Damian himself. He loved this. Partly because he thought it was funny to mess with everyone, partly because he liked showing that you guys were a family.

“They won’t believe their eyes !” His little voice kept going, followed by a big roar of laughter that sounded, by all means, more childlike than devilish.

“That they won’t, they always seem so surprised when Bruce acts like a human.”

Jason. Still not calling Bruce “dad” (except sometimes, by “accident”, and even him don’t realize he did), he’d only slowly been back at the manor, with all of you. And, for sure, a certain important event which happened about four months ago made it so he came back to live at home.

Dick chuckled and added : “Who would blame them ? We’re talking about a man who eats his burgers with a knife and fork !” He gestured to his father with his left thumb, his other hand shielding part of his mouth as if he was telling them all a secret, as if he was trying to be discreet, so his dad wouldn’t hear...Always quite the little clown, that eldest son of yours. With his exaggerated mannerism, and that sparkle in his eyes, in his smile.

“I’m certain some of them thought he was genuinely a cyborg for YEARS” Tim added, quite seriously, his tone the opposite of his older brother (and that was just his way of joking...you think). And honestly ? Yeah, you were pretty sure some of your friends at the JLA thought your husband was a robot, at one point.

Oh yes. That’s where you were going, to the JLA’s headquarters. To execute Bruce’s plan. Quite the evil plan indeed.

“Hell, even I thought he was one before I met you guys !” Duke chimed in, and that made Cassandra smile widely, as she shook her head up and down pointing at Duke as if to say : “what he just said”.

And in a very Bruce manner, your husband kept a straight face, ignoring his children’s teasing. Only you, saw that twinkle in his eyes, that smile that might not reach his mouth, but was definitely dancing in those bright blue eyes.

Oh yes. Yes, your friends were in for quite the surprise.

************

Meanwhile, in the Justice League headquarters :

“Oh, hey ! Look, Batman’s zeta tube is turning on ! We haven’t seen him in a while right ?”

Indeed they haven’t. Because, well, let’s put it this way : Batman’s wife just had a baby.

A baby girl (finally, right ? You and Cass weren’t TOO outnumbered anymore).

And Batman had been VERY busy doting over his baby girl.

Batman had been busy being Bruce Wayne.

Just a man, who thought he’d never be happy again, not knowing how to handle all those feelings he had for his wife (for you), for his children.

That was happiness then, right ?

So, yes. Batman hasn’t been much at the JLA’s headquarters lately. But your husband thought, it was finally time to go see his friends a little bit. He knew they were all up there, because it was their monthly reunion (once each month, they gathered to talk about the state of the world, the universe, what threat lingered, what lurked beyond...and to get very drunk, and see their friends, the only ones who knew what it meant to be a “hero”).

And that what’s made him particularly evil.

He knew, they would all be there. He knew what their reaction was going to be. After all, his memory was amazing, he definitely hadn’t forgot the way they reacted the first time they saw you, the first time they learned he had children (childrEN, plural !).

And he knew they were a little worried about him.

He had missed their last three reunions, and only answered : “Everything is ok�� to their messages asking if he was alright (they hadn’t dared to go see if he was indeed ok, because last time they did that, they found him bed ridden with all the bones in his body broken, and he got so mad at them for butting in his business he worked twice as hard when he was fine again, and didn’t talk a WORD for months...that was, of course, years ago, before you were in his life, but the experience was still in their minds and so, they decided to respect his privacy, he would come to them when ready). And he never pushed his “red button”, him, or anyone in the family.

They just assumed he was busy, they hoped it wasn’t anything bad.

Yes. They were worried. For him. For you. For your kids. For Alfred. For your dogs, your cats, your cow...They. Were. Worried.

And Bruce knew.

You told him, when your pregnancy was confirmed, to tell his friends. That they would be happy. But after his own initial happy thought, his surge of hope and love at knowing he was going to be a dad again, he started to make his plan.

Why tell them, when you could toy with them ?

“They deserve it.” He told you, and you weren’t sure if they did, but you weren’t about to fight him on that. After all, you too, thought it could be amusing. Amusing to hide your pregnancy, making up excuses as to why they couldn't come see you, and you didn’t come up the headquarter. Amusing, to even hide it quite expertly from any form of news (Bruce was a MASTER of disguise, not only for himself), so it would be a real surprise.

Amusing, to have your little girl in secret, with only your family. Amusing, but also what you wanted. For this good news to be just between you, your children, and Alfred. Your close family. Because you had too few things that just were yours.

This had to be yours. Your thing, your secret, your own happiness. Yours, and only yours. And you found it was good, that you guys spend the first few months of your daughter’s life only between yourselves.

It was nice, to go out “disguised” as a normal couple, and show your daughter Gotham (and how her little eyes already tried to take the entire world within them).

It was nice, to live in total privacy for a little bit.

So, yes, you had been a little selfish. And he had, too. You knew it wasn’t just to prank his friends, he kept it all a secret. That it was also to have some quality time with his family. To spend the first few months of his daughter’s life being the only one being utterly smitten with her.

Though, this last thing wasn't true...You were, too. And your children ? Let’s just say your daughter had not been alone ONCE since she was born. And she seemed to love it.

Whenever she made the slightest sound, smiled, laughed (or cried), they were there, Bruce was there, absolutely loving that little baby.

She was almost 4 months old now, and Bruce thought that the gist had to be up. What scale did he use to measure this amount of “readiness” ? You had no idea. You thought he was just now ready to share his happiness with his friends, and not just his close family.

And so here you were, after months of secrecy carefully crafted and orchestrated by your husband, in the JLA’s headquarters, along with your family, the little new addition to said family in your husband’s arms.

Evil. Your husband was downright evil.

He knew that what was about to happen would have a massive impact on his friends. He. KNEW.

And as the zeta tube brought all your family up there, you knew that as he saw their faces, your husband was a little TOO happy with himself for his little “prank”.

************

“Batman, are you al- IS THAT A BABY ?” Very typical, very in character : the first to react was Flash himself.

None of the other noticed, and they seemed inclined to think Barry had lost his mind but then...

Bruce’s face didn’t move an inch, he just held that little “package”, and had his same stoic expression except...Except there was a little hand grabbing at his chin.

Then another hand appeared out of that bundle Batman carried, with a bat plushie bunched in a tight fist, shaking it and...Cooing.

Cute little sounds, and the way- EXCUUUuuUuuuUSE ME ?

The way Batman just softly looked at her, the way his cold expression was replaced by a tender one as he lowered his eyes to her ??

WHAT ?!

They knew. They knew he had THE softest spot for his family. They knew his scary aura greatly dimmed when he was around his wife and children. They knew that when they weren’t there, he was only made of shadows. They were his light, his salvation.

They knew he didn’t have the same face expression, when they were around.

Well, when they were looking at him...Barry swore that Batman loomed around his family, standing menacingly behind them, his eyes cold and calculating as if he was ready to fight any seconds to save his loved ones, and then whenever they turned to him his feature would instantly soften. He will ALWAYS remember the first time he met little Dickie, 9 years old and so full of joy and life, and how whenever he would look at Batman and talk to him, said Batman got a softer expression somewhat, but then when Dick turned around, Batman looked about to murder them whenever they came too close from him.

Once, Tim, also 9 at the time, years after the JLA met Dick, told Barry matter of factly : “He doesn’t kill people. He could break your knee caps though” in a very Tim fashion. The kid was serious. And had noticed the aura surrounding his dad, how it changed when he was around (he noticed more than his siblings, because for a while, Bruce had been really cold and distant with him, since he met him not long after Jason’s death..understandable. So he was the only one who had this sort of behavior aimed at him, the shield Bruce put in front of him to keep everyone away so he wouldn’t be hurt, the shield that now was lowered for them and only them).

It was his eyes. His eyes that were always hard and cold, became different when looking at you or his children.

Not to say that his family never exasperated him, or that he never had his “mask” around them. After all, Bruce’s stoic expression was his face by default. It’s just that he was often too focused. And that he spend years practicing hiding his emotions, practicing keeping a blank face. Because Barry also remembered seeing Dick perched on his father’s shoulders, letting himself dangle in his back, his head upside down, whistling and kicking his feet, and Bruce having this stoic mask on, concentrated.

Anyway, they knew all that. It had been years, since Bruce finally trusted them enough to bring his wife here, and his kids. But yet, yet they were still surprised sometimes.

Like today.

The picture of Batman holding a baby was...a little weird.

Even if he opened up to them over the years, he was still mostly very cold, distant and aloof. You know, Batman. That’s just who he was. So sometimes, to see him so devoted to his wife or kids, it was odd to say the least.

And right now, as he walked towards them with a baby in his arms, the shock was real. Damn it, will there be a day when the Bat didn’t surprise them with something ?

How did none of them notice you were pregnant ? Proof again Batman was a master of his craft. And that little girl...

Oh your daughter was such a beaming ray of sunshine, that in his arms it was particularly a jarring image.

The big scary bat, tall, broad shouldered, muscular in every way, his face void of expressions, holding a tiny baby who kept smiling at everyone around, and playing with her plushy.

Odd.

Yet, sweet.

Were they surprised ? Yes.

Were they a little mad he hid something (AGAIN) this important from them ? Definitely.

Were they shocked that his daughter was so darn cute and smiling and laughing that much ? Not really, because you were his mom too.

Were they happy for him ? For sure.

Were they going to adore that little girl ? Probably as much as they adored his other kids already, which meant...yes. Yes they were going to.

Damn that bastard Bruce. Always so sneaky.

Hal, couldn’t help but think : “First, he’s not a vampire, then, he’s married with children, and now, he has that cute baby. This guy ??!!”

***********

The initial shocked passed, and only after your children MOCKED all of your friends (you had to give it to Dick, he knew how to imitate them so well..and when Damian joined in ? Oh, oh it was a fit of laughter impossible to fight that attacked them), did they approach your daughter.

“Her name is Martha.” Bruce said “We named her after my mother.” and it wasn’t his usual flat tone he used as Batman. No, it was a soft voice he usually only reserved for his kids. And the reason he was using it now ? Well. He didn’t want to scare his daughter, as he still held her.

She beamed at him when she heard her name, and babbled some baby nonsense. She then turned towards all those new faces, and you saw Bruce’s hand hold her a little tighter.

Your beautiful, sweet soul husband. He clearly was worried she’d be scared, meeting all those new people. Especially since they all wore mask. But Martha-

Martha let go of her bat plushy (which Damian caught before it touched the floor, rolling on the ground in a way you thought was quite comedic. Oh, that boy), and lifted her arms up towards-

“What a sweet little girl !” Diana said with a voice you NEVER heard her use. You realized it was her “voice reserved for babies and domestic animals”, and it made you smile. It was higher than her usual voice, and full of softness.

You thought your daughter reached for her because she could feel the warmness in your friend. And after all, amongst all of those gathered here today, she was probably the one that adored babies the most.

Diana looked at Bruce, who only inclined his head a little to give her the ok to lift her from his arms but-

Another arm stopped her, and took the baby away.

Damian.

Damian, the one who took his role as a big brother a little too seriously.

He held Martha protectively against him, and literally sneered at all your friends.

************

Damian deemed most of them unworthy to hold his baby sister, and only Clark ended up being allowed to carry her. And that was partly because Clark was the only one who knew about Martha, the only one who saw her already, and he had months to convince your son to trust him with her.

Being an extremely close friend and all, you just couldn’t hide this from him and... no, really, you literally couldn’t hide this from him as he was the immediately noticed that second heartbeat when he listened in to make sure you and your family were safe. Bruce hated when he did that, but Clark wasn’t about to let them be in danger without moving an inch.

Anyway, Clark was allowed to hold her, but he gave her back to you rather quickly because your son’s stare made him uncomfortable. If eyes could kill, right ?

Damian took his job as an older brother very seriously. He would protect her at all cost. And you had no doubt that he would be the kind of person to burn the entire world down if it meant saving his family.

Damian only glared at everyone, letting them approach ONLY after they put on a surgical mask so they wouldn’t give her their “viruses or whatever”.

You had to admit he was a bit much, and you asked him nicely to calm down a little. He relented on the face masks, but made them all wash their hands (twice).

You ruffled his hair affectionately, what a sweet little boy. It broke your heart, how so many people judged him too fast. He really was, a nice kid. With a heart of gold. He just didn’t have much luck for the first few years of his life.

But he chose to be like this. Chose to love, instead of hate. Chose to protect, instead of attacking.

Although, right now, as Diana came back towards his sister, he definitely seems ready to high kick her (which definitely wouldn’t have hurt the amazon).

************

It was a hassle, to convince Damian to let go of his sister so they could hold her. As per usual, it’s Dick who managed to convince him, saying Martha was all soft and cute, and everyone deserved to hold her at least once. Adding that if one of them dropped her, he would be allowed to do whatever he wanted to them.

Some of the mightiest heroes of the planet were gathered hear, but the threat didn’t fall on deaf ears. Damian could be a little intense, and scary sometimes.

They weren’t fooled by Dick’s agreeable smile either. A smile that didn’t always reach his eyes. They knew if they messed up, he would find every way to rip them to shreds. Dick was often seen as the calmest of your children, but his anger issues from when he was a child were never far. And he could be ruthless.

Diana held her first, and your daughter babbled to her excitedly.

Of course, being only 4 months old, she just talked gibberish. And it was so sweet, how Diana answered her : “What ? *babbles from your daughter* Noooooo. *more babbles from your daughter* I can’t believe he said that. And then what ? *babbles babbles babbles*”.

After that, Dick took her back, and asked if someone else wanted to hold her, under yours and Bruce’s watchful eyes.

Then again, in the room, many were also already parents and knew how to hold a baby. They weren’t too worried, except-

Except Dick, that little sh-, had found a new game in recent weeks. Whenever he gave his little sister to someone else...he pretended to drop her.

And it made him laugh and laugh and laugh, to give mini-heart attacks to EVERYONE whenever he gave them his baby sister to them, as they always all panicked and screamed seeing her dropped (Dick always had her secure, he only pretended to drop her of course).

“Oh no careful !” He’d scream, dropping his arms suddenly (she looooved it) while still gripping her, and they’d scramble to catch her, and he would just laugh.

“You little-” Hal’s colorful words were...imaginative. And Damian was inclined to agree, since his brother pranked him oh, I don’t know, only about A HUNDRED TIMES since their little sister was born.

You wouldn’t admit it, but it made you laugh a little too. Even if he got you a few times as well, pretending he was going to drop her. Then again, you trusted your eldest son. Once you and Bruce wouldn’t be around anymore, you knew he would hold this family together.

************

Martha was a calm baby. She let people hold her, curious enough to not fuss and watch them all intently. It made Barry uncomfortable, how she held his gaze and would just stare at him.

She would stare, and stare, and stare, and her bright blue eyes were EXACTLY like Bruce’s, it felt like being stared down by a miniature version of Batman.

He didn’t like it. So he gave her back to whomever was closest, which happened to be Jason

Jason, who was always very delicate with his little sister. He handled her as if he’d break her. It broke your heart, to know he probably literally thought that.

He refused to hold her at first, sure he would hurt her. But she kept reaching for him, crying when he wouldn’t take her, and she was so adorable and-

He caved, of course. After a little while. And he was oh, the fixture of a patient older brother. You knew he would ALWAYS be part of her life, and step in whenever she needed to.

Right now, she was grabbing his hair, which were getting quite long, and pulling hard on them as babies do and- He didn’t say anything. He just let her do it.

You really hoped she wasn’t going to take advantage of this when she’d get older, even if you already had visions of her having her brothers and father wrapped around her little finger, having her sister too, and...apparently, the entirety of the JLA.

************

“How can such an a-hole make such a cute baby ?” Hal said, looking at the little girl he held. She was sort of dozing off, which for sure was adorable.

Bruce only glared at him, which amused Hal greatly. He just gave him the shock of his life, he could laugh at his expense a little, right ?

“I believe, to make a baby, you need to-”

“Um, no, Jon, please, I know how to ! It’s just-Oh, forget it.”

Flustered, Hal Jordan was flustered. Jon J’onzz didn’t seem to get why, but then again, human sarcasms and irony were still very foreign to him. He always answered pragmatically to people.

Talking about pragmatism. Hal handed back your daughter to Tim, who slipped her in his favorite new contraption : the baby carrier 3.0 (of his own design). Made so he could do all sort of work while having her strapped to him. Keeping an eye on her at all time.

Tim adopted the use of a baby carrier, so he could still work while taking care of her (he stole the idea from his dad, who definitely hung around with his daughter EVERYWHERE with that thing...which was the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen, this tall broad man and this tiny baby attached to his chest).

It was so cute to see her little feet dangling while he was working. Damian nearly lost it when he found Tim WELDING two pieces of metal together with the baby carrier on his front. Tim merely said : “I made her baby sized goggles and a fireproof pyjama, she’s fine, and she likes it” and indeed, your daughter didn’t have a scratch, and cried when Damian hauled her away from the sparks. Ooooh the smug look on Tim’s face as his brother gave her back reluctantly. Damian’s was utterly vexed.

Vexation he forgot just a few minutes later, when Martha decided she had enough of sparkles and made little sounds of protest (not quite cries), and reached her little arms to him.

As of now, Tim had her in this baby carrier again, and was strolling around the JLA headquarters, showing his new little sister to everyone.

************

Cassandra didn’t say a word, as per usual. She never liked big crowds, only spoke to those she trusted the most. Her brothers, her parents.

She only gestured to others. Remained quiet. But she monitored every little movements.

Hawkgirl approached her sister ? Noted. Carefully studying every move. Martian Manhunter asked if he could hold her ? Noted.

Superman made little babbling sound at her, while her dad held her ? Noted, with amusement. It was funny, to see one of Earth’s mightiest hero grimacing to a baby to make it laugh, while said baby was held by another mighty hero who was utterly stoned face. Cass’ smiled at her dad, who smiled back for a fraction of seconds before Clark shifted his head up to look at him too, and Bruce went back to his : “ -_-” face, by reflex really.

Cassandra never spoke much, but she loved a lot. And her way of loving her little sister ? It was to always keep a watchful eye on her, so she could react to whatever she needed. And give her space when she needed to.

She had many brothers, she often joked that if she lost one, she could just replace him (a joke you didn’t like much, because you knew it was just a self-defense from her, to shield her heartbreak at the mere idea of loosing a sibling), but only had one sister...

Yes. Your youngest child definitely held a special place in everyone’s heart.

And you could see her slowly creep in every members’ of the Justice League’s heart too.

Gods, you couldn’t even imagine what would happen to the person who would one day try to hurt her. You could bet, though, he wouldn’t get out of it unscathed (to say the least).

************

Martha was particularly fond of Duke’s inuit kiss. He had the capacity to instantly calm her, and he could easily feel her inner emotions.

As she was passed around everyone, and she started to be tired and cranky, he simply retrieved her and brought her to Bruce, because he knew that was her preferred spot to fall asleep.

He kissed her on the forehead, and sure enough, she was asleep before he could pull away. Your husband put a warm hand on Duke’s head, a warm smile on his face. That boy could always tell what others felt. It was a gift, really, and sometimes a curse as others’ feelings could leak into him. Which is to say that sometimes, when others were sad, he would be too...

But for now, he felt content. At peace. Because his dad was, too.

And indeed, Bruce, holding his sleeping daughter against his heart, his hand supporting her head gently, was utterly at peace.

He loved the idea that his arms were his daughter’s favorite place to sleep, and never refused to hold her to help her sleep. You sure were a little jealous, but he told you : “They all always come to you when they need comfort, one kid out of six, you surely can give me, right ?” and though you knew he was joking, it broke your heart a little.

So, you let go of your jealousy, and let him have this indeed. Martha was definitely a daddy’s girl. And that was good. You could see the impact on your husband, how having a baby in the house soothed him.

He loved his kids so damn much. He often said they were his lights. And the fact Martha found comfort with him ?

It reminded him of his own parents. How he would go to his mom, a Martha too, to find the same comfort. To fall asleep in the same way.

You let go of that small jealousy, as you saw her falling soundly asleep, cuddled up against her dad. And it was funny, how Bruce would take his usual Batman persona, stone faced, standing straight and-

Having one of two fingers held tightly by both of his daughter’s little hands. She grabbed them as he took her, one hand holding her (she was so tiny...and he was a big dude), the other, she used as a sort of comfort plushy. She held them with all her might, as she slept.

And Bruce was speaking battle plans, and you had to fight the laughter in you as all your friends couldn’t help but stare at the scene, not knowing how to feel.

Hal snickered at one point, and he made a gesture for him to zip it, and it was quite an odd scene, as he held his daughter and did that childish gesture.

Seriously. That guy !!

************

Batman smiling was...different.

They all got caught staring at him, when he had his daughter in his arms. Staring because his broad smile was-

Well. Broad.

It wasn’t his signature smirk. It wasn’t a soft smile. It wasn’t a half-smile. It wasn’t a smile that you could only see in his eyes.

It was a full on big ass smile (as Barry would say).

And sure, they already saw him smile like that (although he schooled his face back to “stone mode” when he noticed them looking), never that much.

As if the birth of his daughter gave Batman another new light, and it was just impossible to yield to his old demon, to brood, when holding that ray of sunshine.

It made them all feel...soft. And warm.

It was nice, to know the bat wasn’t just a machine. They forgot it sometimes, that he was, in the end, “just” a man. They forgot why he became Batman. The pain and guilt he held inside. But moments like this, they were reminded of it.

That the Batman didn’t exist because of hatred, but because of love.

Because he loved his parents, his city, and now-

His family.

It was nice, to get reminded that there was a man below the mask. And though he could be an “a-hole” sometimes, there, holding his baby, he was just that.

A loving man, who wanted to protect others.

************

You made a note of every moments you would cherish forever of you introducing your daughters to them all :

1. The shock on their faces as they beheld the sight of THE BATMAN holding a baby against him, and being so delicate.

2. Your daughter being the star of the show, all of them smitten with her !

3. Your friends wanting to hold her, and how they beamed at her (and she beamed back, except with Barry, whom she only stared at for some reasons).

4. Dick’s “game” of pretending he dropped her, and their panicked reaction.

5. The success of Tim’s baby carrier, and how now, there was always one up in the tower.

6. Diana and how it definitely seemed like she would move mountain for that child.

7. How Clark’s eyes filled with tears again, as he looked at Martha. Because it made his friends so happy. You and Bruce. And especially Bruce. And Clark was an emotional man, who suffered too, and was just so happy “The Batman” was happy.

8. How Jason seemed at peace with his little sister, and how whenever he held her, he seemed less weary than usual around everyone. Like Cass, he didn’t like much being amongst too many people. But now, it felt like he had an “emotional support baby”. Ah.

9. Their reactions, past the shock, welcoming that new life in the world.

10. How Bruce monitored his daughter being held by his friends, holding your hand. Even after all those years, when he acted close to you in his Batman costume, it made you...feel things. He always kept a facade as Batman. A facade that would crumble with his kids, and especially with you. PDA weren’t rare. And even after years at his side, it always made your heart beat wildly when he showed affection towards you in public, because it meant-

Oh it meant so much.

And you had so many more moments forever ingrained in your heart from that day spend up at the JLA’s headquarters.

Too many to count. Some sweet, some hilarious-

All positive feelings.

And as you and your family stepped back in the zeta tubes, your friends saying “byyyyye” to Martha especially, with their baby voice (making Bruce roll his eyes), and as she waved at them-

Waved for the FIRST TIME ever oh.

Oh it felt like you would die of happiness.

And still, Bruce’s hands held yours tightly.

He knew.

He knew, you were the source of this happiness he thought he could never find again.

He knew.

He never loved like that before.

Yes. It felt like you could just die of happiness.

__________________________________________________

And here we are. I hope you enjoyed this. Don’t hesitate to comment and/or reblog, it’s always greatly appreciated :).

Also, initially, the child was going to be Thomas (their son in my “main” storyline, if you already read a few works from me), but last minute, I was like : “wait no, I want to give Bruce a daughter, and the boys a sister. Also, poor Cass eh ?” and here we are. I really hope you liked this; I’m nervous for some reasons. Anyway. See you soon with another one ?

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ahqkas · 2 days ago

Text

“WHEN YOU’RE LOST IN THE DARKNESS, LOOK FOR THE LIGHT — dick grayson.

PAIRING dick grayson 𝒙 fem!reader SYNOPSIS he was completely frustrating. him with his cheeky grins and perfect teeth. maybe that’s why it didn’t anger you when he took an interest in you WORD COUNT 5.6k WARNINGS / TAGS artist!reader, cursing, mention of reader’s hair, unedited NOTES yes the title is inspired by tlou & yes i compared dick to a blue jay. i decided to mix 2 different reqs ( req 1 & req 2 ) because they worked well together for me soo i hope it’s okay! © ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

IN ART, WHAT WE WANT IS THE CERTAINTY THAT ONE SPARK OF ORIGINAL GENIUS SHALL NOT BE EXTINGUISHED.

Said Mary Cassatt, and her words had echoed in your mind for as long as you could remember. There was something comforting in the idea that creativity—pure, untouched, and entirely your own—could endure even such cruel punishment as darkness. Darkness was a language you understood well, especially living in Gotham, where shadows devoured the city inch by inch until there was nothing but colorless void. The darkness wrapped itself around you, slowly seeping in to claim your soul as well, like the chill of a cold winter night creeping into your bones.

But even in a city this unfair, you believed there was still some beacon of light. Hidden, of course, but not extinct.

And so, you painted. You drew. You created. Every stroke of your brush and pencil felt infinite. Art was the closest thing you felt to immortality, and you clung to that belief like a child did to innocence.

Your small apartment was more than just a simple place where you lived. Every inch of the space bore a trace of you and of your determination to carve something special into the world. The walls, once peeling and beige, were now alive with color. A breath of life you granted the old home. It wasn’t much, your apartment, but it was yours.

The darkness couldn’t quite reach you there, and the light found you within your search for it.

It was late past midnight when you met him. The hour of the night was silent despite the fact you were living on one of the most dangerous streets of Gotham. Silent, but far from safe. The full moon hung high in the sky, its pale light struggling to pierce through the dark clouds that blanketed the whole night. Every so often, the moonlight would break free and shimmered a silver beam that barely softened the shadows.

You sat curled up on your old, beaten couch in your living room, aching legs tucked beneath you. The thrifted mustard-yellow couch sat beneath a gallery wall you’d arranged with so much focus you were unmistakably proud of the piece. The light from the fairy lights strung above the paintings softened the sharp edges of your apartment.

The pencil between your fingers moved along the paper with practiced movements of an artist as you clutched the sketchbook close to you with your free hand. You brought the drawing of a blue jay to life. Its small, delicate body was perched on the middle of the page, its head tilted slightly to the side as if caught mid-movement. The blue jay’s wings began to take a lively form beneath your hands.

You loved sketching birds—the way they had an open opinion of freedom in their feathers, how they could fly away from the weight of everything below on earth.

The quiet was broken by a dull thump.

Your pencil stilled, the sharp tip pressing into the delicate beak of the blue jay as you tilted your head towards the sound. It came again, heavier this time, right outside on the fire escape under your living room window. Living in Gotham meant you knew better than to ignore suspicious and strange sounds, especially at this hour.

Setting the sketchbook down on the coffee table, you slid off the couch with a pounding heart and bare feet padding softly against the wooden floor. The window was already cracked open, letting in a cold breeze of night air. It prickled at your skin and sent a wave of goosebumps down your spine.

You moved with an intention to investigate, your hand gripping the window frame when you leaned forward slightly to catch a glimpse of the intruder. Before you could fully stick your head through the opening, something shifted — a flash of movement so sudden that you instinctively took a step back to avoid bumping your head. Then, just as quickly, a figure shot up from the darkness surrounding your fire escape and you watched as his top half leaned against the window frame with effortless grace.

Anyone could recognize the symbol gracing his chest.

Nightwing was on your fire escape, practically with one of his halves in your apartment.

You blinked at him, startled at the unexpected visit from Gotham's (wait, wasn’t he supposed to be in Blüdhaven?) acrobatic vigilante. He stared back without shame. His face was partially illuminated by the soft glow of your fairy lights and his forehead, plus the top of his eyes, were hidden beneath the dark strands of his hair. Damp with sweat and light spray of rain. The black domino mask was doing little to hide the attractiveness of his handsome face, although it did not tell you his identity. Or the color of his eyes. The white lenses didn’t show any signs of life, it would be almost unsettling if it wasn’t for the other features of his face.

His jaw was sharp, the bone ready to cut through glass, and his lips held a shadowy grin in them. His chest heaved as if he’d just ran a marathon, or in his case, as if he’d just been in a chase. And his suit—a sleek, midnight black with that striking blue emblem—was marred by faint fabric tears and streaks of grime.

When he spoke up after a minute of analyzing you, his voice was breathless but warm, like he hadn’t just scared the life out of you by his entrance. “Hey. Sorry about the dramatics. Mind if I, uh, come in?” He glanced over his shoulder briefly, as though checking to see if someone had followed him.

You swallowed the lump that formed in the back of your throat, fingers still gripping onto the windowsill. You were pretty sure the surprise and disbelief etched into your face could be completely seen. “What? You’re joking, right?” those small words stumbled past your lips in a sharper tone than you intended. “You can’t just—“ gesturing vaguely to the fire escape he was standing on, you trailed off for him to finish the sentence himself.

But instead of an answer, Nightwing simply offered a grin, all perfect teeth. It was the kind that felt like it was meant to disarm you and melt you into a puddle at his feet. A swooning, pretty puddle.

“Technically, I can. But I’d prefer not to freeze out here while we debate it.”

Your reply to his cheeky comment died in your throat the moment you heard it—an angry bellow from somewhere below, followed by the unmistakable sound of boots thumping against the wet pavement. The voices were low and animalistic, only growing louder by seconds. Whoever they were, it didn’t take a genius to figure out who they were looking for.

Shooting him a pointed look with one of your eyebrows raised, you realized it was useless as he was already halfway through the window, ducking inside easily. He didn’t so much as flinch when his heavy boots hit the floor with a faint thud. You could only watch the trail of dirt and grime he was leaving behind himself. The sounds from outside faded into muffled whispers when he closed the window, and effectively scanned the room with a quick glance.

“You really have a way of making an entrance,” you mumbled under your breath as you gave him space and moved back towards the sofa. The sarcasm wasn’t meant to reach his ears but with the way one corner of his lips tugged up, you knew he heard every single word. Did this guy have super hearing?

The faintest glint of amusement danced on his features, despite the lack of emotion in his hidden eyes. You could tell by the way his eyebrows furrowed and his lips quirked up. “It’s part of the job description,” he replied to your remark casually, as if crashing into strangers’ apartments was just another Tuesday for him.

With a sigh, you shook your head and leaned back against the arm of the couch, watching him move around the living room. He didn’t sit, didn’t relax, didn’t even pause long enough to breathe out the weight of his situation. Instead, his gaze grazed over everything in clear sight — your paintings on the wall, the cluttered coffee table and its content, the pencils scattered across your notepad.

He was strange.

“What are you doing?”

“Just checking,” his response came quickly, he was probably distracted by the hand brushing against the edge of the window frame as he double-checked the latch.

You watched him carefully and tried to not let his presence throw you off. There was something unbelievable about seeing him there, in the heart of your apartment of all places, where every inch of the space was yours. Technically, he was in your territory now.

“Don’t worry,” Nightwing added with humor etching his voice when you didn’t say anything. “I’ll be gone before you know it.”

“Take your time,” the dripping sarcasm got out the exact same reaction from him just like before, and you watched as he smirked at you, the corner of his mouth tugging upward in a way that told you he was far too used to getting under people’s skin. Cheeky bastard.

This inspection of his lasted for a few more minutes before his pacing slowed down and his masked eyes landed on your beaten couch. The faint amusement in his features shifted, softening into something more thoughtful as he approached you. You stiffened when he got close enough. The light scent of cologne hit your nose from the proximity.

Gloved hand reached for your notepad, and you watched him again when he started tracing the soft pencil lines of your sketches. You seemed to watch him a lot tonight, but you didn’t dare to interrupt him. He was still a stranger and you lived alone. The vigilante could take you down without breaking a sweat, no comment.

The blue jays stared back at him from the page with their wings outstretched mid-flight, the faint smudge of pencil giving them a sense of movement, like they could lift off the paper and fly toward their freedom at any moment.

“You drew these?” the question slipped before he could think of it and the raw quietness of his tone surprised you.

You hesitated before you gave him the answer. “Yeah, I did. What, are you secretly an art critic, too?”

His lips twitched, but his eyes stayed on the sketches. “Blue jays,” the murmur was more to himself than to you. “They’re nice.”

“Nice?” you echoed back at him, a small smile ghosting your lips upon hearing his praise. “That’s your verdict? Nice?”

This time, his wide grin returned as he glanced at you from your artwork. You decided on the spot that you liked this look on him. He could be all sharp edges and rough words, but the genuine smiles and clever remarks were a part of him, too. “Hey, I don’t know the first thing about art. But they’re good. Really good. Why blue jays though?”

You shrugged your shoulders, crossing your arms around yourself tightly. His clear interest in your work made you feel strangely exposed. “They’re . . . free. They can leave whenever they want, fly away from everything. I guess I like the idea of that.”

Nightwing was quiet for a moment, his masked gaze flicking back to the page like he was seeing something more between the colors and lines you’d drawn. He really was strange. “Makes sense,” he said finally. “They’re tough, too. Survivors.”

For a man who’d just come crashing through your window, being chased by a bunch of angry goons, he suddenly seemed relaxed. The birds meant more to him than he was letting on.

“Guess that explains why you like them.”

“What, you think I’m a blue jay now?”

A smirk made its way to your lips, and you felt a slight hint of satisfaction brewing inside you. You finally got him. “You said it yourself. Tough. Survivors. Seems fitting.”

It was a strange image, seeing someone who carried so much weight on his shoulders standing here, in your little apartment, admiring a simple sketch of a bird. Most people assumed he was a machine under the suit, someone who did their job because it had to be done. But you saw the life in his smile and heard the feelings in his voice. Red flooded his system like any other human being possessed. A beating heart and marred skin. He was human, even under all that armor.

“Well,” you cleared your throat, effectively breaking the silence that followed your cheeky remark. “I’m glad my art could distract you from the mad mob outside.”

That earned you a genuine laugh, low and rich. You noted he had a nice laugh. Everything about him was nice, though. Maybe it was because it was the first time seeing him from up close or maybe it was simply that he got your attention.

⋆.˚ 𓅆 . . .

The next few days were rather busy. You had more work on your shoulders and your family kept pressing about your upcoming visit (spoiler alert; you didn’t really plan on visiting them). Your family members lived far from Gotham, which you were particularly glad for. One boring and busy day went after the other, and so did you with your life. You weren’t going to admit it, but you missed the sudden excitement the cocky vigilante brought with him. It was something new, something that wasn’t boring.

The wind carried a chill that nipped at the exposed skin of your face, numbing your cheeks in the process. The streets of Gotham were alive despite the coldness the new day brought with itself—the city never really stopped, even when it probably should have. Your tea sat untouched beside your half-eaten croissant, warm steam curling lazily above the porcelain cup, while your hand moved steadily across the pages of your sketchbook.

You were drawing another blue jay. This one was perched on a thin branch, its head cocked slightly with ruffled feathers as if caught in the same breeze that howled right now. The pencil lines of your drawing were sharper this time, more confident, though you weren’t sure why.

Maybe it was because you couldn’t stop thinking about them—the blue jays.

It wasn’t like this hadn’t happened before, your thoughts fixating on a subject, but this time it felt different. Ever since that night, when Nightwing had stood in the heart of your living room and held your sketch like it was something worth admiring, you’d been thinking about them more and more often. Birds had always represented freedom to you. A fleeting kind of beauty, one that wouldn’t last long. But now they carried something else. Something more.

You found yourself replaying his words in your mind while you shaded the curve of the blue jay’s wing, your pencil working instinctively as the low conversations and local sounds of the café faded into a hushed whisper. The bird began to take shape, its tiny body beaming with life.

The next thing you knew, the chair you were sitting on rocked slightly and your bag was violently jerked from the edge of the table.

It took you a second to process what had happened. One second, your purse was there, sitting by your side, and the next, it was gone. Snatched by a blur of unidentified movement. Your heart skipped an uncomfortable beat as you whipped your head towards the stranger, catching sight of the thief bolting through the crowded street.

Panic started to settle in. Your bag. Gone. It was gone. Everything was in there—your money, your keys, your ID. The grip of your fingers on the pencil in your grasp tightened while adrenaline surged through your veins. Without having any second thoughts, you shot to your feet. The chair scraped loudly against the floor and you bolted after him.

“Hey! Stop!”

The thief was already halfway down the block when you finally pushed past the crowd with alarming speed. Your boots moved without any more thinking. He wasn’t particularly tall, but he was quick on his feet, his figure darting between pedestrians who shouted in surprise and yelped in confusion when he pushed into them to clear his path. Your lungs burned as you tried to push against your limits and keep up with him. The strap of your bag was swinging wildly in his grip.

“Stop!” you shouted again, although you doubted he would listen. He wouldn’t. People around turned to look at the chaos, but no one made a move to help. It was Gotham, after all — everyone looked after their own self.

The thief rounded a corner, successfully disappearing into an alley, and you felt a pinch of dread forming in your stomach. You didn’t know this part of the city well, and the narrow alleyway clothed in shadows sent a wave of goosebumps down your spine. Hesitation brewed in you for a moment before you made up your mind. Fuck it. You didn’t care that chasing him was reckless. You didn’t care that you had no plan for what you’d do if you actually managed to catch up to him. All you knew was that he had your bag—your life—and you weren’t about to let him get away with it.

Whoosh!

You barely registered the sound at first. Your focus was entirely on your thief, the dark shade of his jacket disappearing deeper and deeper, just beyond your reach. The puffs of air left your lips in a sharp shape and the cold air didn’t help much. But you didn’t stop running. You couldn’t stop.

Then, out of nowhere, a dark blur descended from above, landing right in your path.

“Whoa, hold it!”

The familiar drawl of his voice ringed in your ears before you saw him. You skidded to a halt, nearly losing your balance as his figure stepped into the sight. His arms were outstretched to block your way, and you felt a sudden burst of frustration upon his appearance. After all, you still had a bad guy to catch.

“Move,” moving to the side, you tried to sidestep him and start your chase again. Key word—tried. He shifted smoothly, following your movements like a mirror.

“Not happening,” he interrupted you firmly. “You can’t go running after some guy who might be armed. You don’t know what you’re walking into.”

“I don’t care. He has my purse—my money, my keys, everything! I have to—“

“You have to stay here,” Nightwing cut you off again, and you pushed the urge to strangle him away. His presence was infuriating, even though you could see every muscle in his jawline tightening and tensing. He was holding back, that much was evident.

“I don’t need your help.”

His hands shot out the moment you tried to brush past him again, gloves catching your biceps in a firm hold. It wasn’t painful, nor would leave any marks in the form of bruising, but he held you in a grounding manner. Almost as if he wanted to calm you down.

“Yes, you do,” the glint of seriousness in his gaze made you halt in your argument. He meant every single word. “Look, I get it. You’re pissed, you’re scared, and you feel like you have to do something. But this guy could have a knife, or worse, and you’re completely unarmed. He’s probably long gone by now, too. I’ll track him down and get your stuff. That’s a promise, Blue.”

You swallowed hard as the fire that fueled your intentions died a little bit. He was right, even though you didn’t want to admit it.

“Fine, but you better catch him.”

A small, reassuring nod and a gentle squeeze was all you received from the masked vigilante before he released you and took off after the thief. A moment later, you realized he gave you a nickname.

Blue.

⋆.˚ 𓅆 . . .

The thick steam from your earlier shower still lingered in the bathroom, curling faintly in the air and clinging along the tiles and the edges of the mirror as you massaged moisturizer into your skin like you did every night. It was a routine by now. One you were excited to participate in. Your favorite playlist hummed softly from the phone propped up on the counter near the sink, the melody blending with the occasional rustle of the city outside your window.

Gotham was quiet tonight. No sirens. No shouts. Just silence.

You signed and leaned against the counter as you let the coolness of the white cream soothe your skin. The events of this day were rather . . . unpleasant. Your purse was gone, and the thought of all the things you’d lost still made your chest ache. Your keys, your ID, even your favorite pen you always kept in the front pocket—all gone, snatched in a moment. But at least you were safe. Nightwing had made sure you didn’t dive head first into what could have been a disaster.

You couldn’t stop thinking about him, either. The way he’d swooped in like some kind of a movie hero. For a man who lived his life surrounded by constant danger, he’d had this unmistakably calmness about him, like no problem was big enough to not handle.

Reaching for a soft towel, you patted your face dry with it when you finished the last step of your nighttime routine. A moment of realization hit you like a ton of bricks.

Your sketchbook.

Your heart sank deeply in your chest, and you froze, gripping the towel tightly. You’d left it at the café. It must’ve been sitting there on the table, untouched, while you chased after that thief like a reckless idiot. You would be lucky if you found it where you’d left it lying as there was a possibility of a tired barista throwing it away.

That notepad wasn’t just another notebook to you. It held weeks, months, of drawings—ideas, experiments, half-finished sketches that no one but you had seen. And the blue jays he praised . . .

The day’s exhaustion weighed heavily on your tense shoulders as you finally made your way to your bedroom. You switched off the light in the hallway, plunging your apartment into darkness save for the faint glow of moonlight spilling through the cracks in the blinds.

A dark shadow caught your eyes the second you stepped into the room and your heart nearly leaped out of your chest. There, casually perched on your windowsill was Nightwing, dressed in shadows.

His grin was the first thing you recognized on him, the wide stretch of his lips almost haunting in the darkness. His teeth appeared almost sharp, like canines of a predator. But he wasn’t here to hunt tonight. One gloved hand held your bag, dangling it from his fingers as if presenting you a beloved prize.

“Miss me, Blue?”

“Are you insane?” hissing, your palm resting against your beating heart. “You can’t just show up like that!”

A delighted laugh rumbled deep in his chest as he stepped inside like he didn’t invade your personal space and almost gave you a heart attack. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

He tossed your stolen (now found) bag on your bed with a flick of his wrist. It took you a moment to process what you were seeing but when you did, your panic gave away to stunned disbelief. “You got it back?”

“Of course. I promised you.”

The smug look on his face softened after those words left his throat. You crossed the room in quick steps, rushing to get your hand on your belongings. Once it was in your hold, you rummaged through the inside. Everything was still there—your keys, your wallet, even the blue pen you favored so much. Relief flooded your system and you finally felt your shoulders relaxing. It was all returned.

You glanced at him from the bag, suddenly feeling somehow embarrassed. “I—I don’t even know what to say.”

“How about ‘thank you, Nightwing, for saving the day’? That would do,” the arch of his eyebrows told you he was enjoying this, if only a little. Smug bastard.

Rolling your eyes, you felt your lips tugging into a smile anyway. “Thank you for getting me my bag back. Happy?”

“It’s exactly what I wanted but yeah, very.”

A minute of silence stretched between you, one that wasn’t entirely comfortable but during that time, you studied him. He was leaning against the edge of your bed, just shy away from your side.

“You’ve been drawing them a lot, huh?”

“What?”

“The blue jays,” Nightwing gestured towards your desk with his free hand, the other behind his back. He looked strange, amusing even, but you didn’t dare to point it out. You followed his movements, eyes sliding toward your desk full of stray papers. He was right, the wooden space was filled with your recent works, and among them were multiple pieces of those blue birds. “You were working on them that night. At the café, too.”

Your lips parted slightly to voice your confusion, but the words didn’t come. He had noticed? And kept track of it? You didn’t know if you should feel creeped out or honored.

You didn’t get to react much before he perked up. “Oh, almost forgot,” pulling the occupied hand from behind his back, you noticed he held a small book in it.

Not just any book, though. Your sketchbook.

“You went back for it?” the disbelief dripped from the tone of your voice as you reached for the notepad. Your fingertips brushed against his gloves when you did so, and a spark of light crossed through you at the faint touch.

“Figured you’d want it back,” he tried to act nonchalant, shrugging his shoulders without a care in the world, but even if you knew him for such a short period of time, you could tell he was just acting. The subtle tone of his voice betrayed him, along with the rosy dust painting his cheeks. Your thumb traced the broken spine of the notepad. The thought of him chasing down your thief, retrieving your stolen stuff, and then returning for your more personal thing left you speechless. He didn’t have to, but he did—again.

He was so close to you now that the faint scent of rain and city clung to him, mixing with his natural fragrance. You could inhale it all while you saw everything, too—the sharp line of the bone in his jaw, the slight furrow of his brows like he was constantly deep in his mind, and even the way the moonlight caught on the pink dusting the top of his ears.

His pose shifted lightly, in a way that made the space between the two of you feel almost nonexistent. Your instinct told you to move, but your feet didn’t move.

“You’re . . . really something, you know that?”

Your heart beat against the bones protecting your ribs so loud you swore he could hear it. The white lenses of his black mask flickered all over your face, almost like he wanted to memorize every delicate detail, like he wanted to count every lash on your eye individually.

“You barely know me.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, “but I think I’m starting to.”

No response made its way past your lips. It died at the base of your throat, and no one could rip it out of you.

His hand reached out in your peripheral vision, slowly, like he was giving you an option to stop him whenever you felt like. There was no force between you, just purity of the actions. When you didn’t stop him, he moved bolder and louder, long fingers tracing the curve of your cheek before brushing against the damp strands of your hair. He pushed it back behind your ear, his touch lingering even there.

You could feel his breath mingling with yours, becoming one.

And then, just as you felt the unmistakable pull towards him, Nightwing pulled away. He took a step back like he remembered who he was.

“Take care of that,” he nodded towards your hold that clutched your sketchbook.

You opened your to say something, anything because what the fuck was he doing when he jumped out of the bedroom window, leaving behind the what ifs if he stayed with you.

⋆.˚ 𓅆 . . .

The rooftop had become your favorite spot to disappear from your responsibilities. The view was magnificent with how the city stretched out in every direction and you could see everything. The chaos was muted up here, replaced by singing of the birds and occasional flutter of wings. This place was comforting.

You sat cross-legged on the concrete with your sketchbook propped in your lap, pencil in hand and mind open to new ideas. But the paper brewed alive with yet another drawing of a blue jay. Something about them had rooted itself in your head.

Pausing in your work to glance up at the sky, you were greeted by the most remarkable sight. Caught by the horizon where the sun dipped lower, brushing its streaks across the rooftop in a golden orange. The light breeze tugged at your hair, and you reached up to tuck it behind your ear. You managed to smudge a piece of graphite along your cheek upon the gesture. Your sketch was coming along slowly today; your mind kept wandering off and you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched.

Which you were correct about.

“Nice view,” a familiar voice drawled.

You flinched upon the sound, nearly dropping the tools on your knees as you whipped your head toward the source. There he was, perched on the edge of the rooftop, the sunset behind him painting him like some sort of an angel. Nightwing.

“Seriously? Do you ever not sneak up on people?”

The cheeky smirk made its usual appearance on his lips when he hopped down from his spot, taking slow steps towards you. It was impossible to stay annoyed at him, with that face and easy charisma. “Where’s the fun in that?”

With a roll of your eyes, you couldn’t help but smile a little. “What are you even doing here?”

“Patrolling,” he replied casually to your question, just like he did the night he came to return your bag. Trying to act all nonchalant, but deep down he cares. You know that. He’s acting again. You could tell by the experience and by the tone of his voice. It suggested otherwise from his answer. His masked eyes shifted to your knees, noting the open book. “Another blue jay?”

“I’m trying to capture the way they look when flying. It’s harder than it seems.”

You watched him while he watched your drawings. The vigilante crouched down beside you, his knee bumping against yours softly, almost as in unsaid greeting. He was saying hello while you responded hi back. “You’re getting better.”

Silence draped over the two of you after that sentence left his throat, this one much more comfortable than the one you experienced the week before in your apartment. His elbows were resting on his knees, which bumped into yours from time to time in a silent gesture. Your eyes found the white lenses behind the domino mask.

“You’re not gonna disappear this time, are you?”

“No.”

Your sketchbook lay forgotten in your lap as you gazed into the void of his eyes. You couldn’t read the emotion in them but you somehow could tell every single feeling brewing inside him. It was written across his face, open like a book.

“You’re staring,” you whispered.

“So are you,” his reply was quick, like he knew exactly what to say the moment you spoke up.

A faintest tug at your lips brought the corners up in a smile, but it faltered the moment he leaned in, taking up your personal space inch by inch. He was moving slowly, giving you the opportunity to pull away, to reject him and his touch if you wanted to. But you didn’t.

His palm hovered near the curve of your cheekbone close enough to feel the warmth seeping through the glove. He cocked his head slightly to the side, as if silently asking you a question he was too caught up in to say aloud.

“You’ve got graphite on your cheek.”

“Do I?”

He brushed his thumb across the smudge, wiping it away. He didn’t pull away once your skin was clean.

You noticed the way his eyes briefly dropped to your lips before flicking back to meet yours, searching for an answer he so desperately wanted to hear.

If you didn’t want this, he’d pull back. You knew he would.

But you didn’t want him to.

Leaning in, you closed the little distance between you, and that was all the answer he needed. His lips met yours firmly, pressing against yours like a puzzle, like they belonged there. Your hands gripped at him, fingers moving to the base of his neck to grab a handful of his black hair and pulling slightly to deliver a message.

Although the darkness around you enveloped you, clothing the day in dark, you felt a spark of light every time his lips pressed against yours more urgently, licking and biting his way inside to get a taste of you. You felt it when his gloved hands tangled in your hair, tugging you impossibly close to make you his.

His forehead came to rest against yours when you eventually had to pull away for a fresh breath of air, both his and your breaths uneven.

“Tell me I’m not gonna regret this.”

“You won’t.” That was a promise.

Because when you’re lost in the darkness, you should look for the light.

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