#bruce disappointed-dad-stare wayne

[confessedlyfannish]

DC x DP Writing Prompt 4?? 45?? 2,321?? HUT!!!

"So you eat ectoplasm," Flash says hands clasped and index fingers pressed against his mouth.

"Ayup," Phantom says, punctuating with an obnoxious slurp of his goopy ectoplasm. "Does a not body good."

"But the place you come from is made of ectoplasm."

"Ayup."

"So you are literally eating the fabric of your universe?" Flash says, voice rising in pitch.

"No, the fabric of the Infinite Realms is space-time, same as Earth, well not the same," Phantom says, scrunching up his nose. "Earth is more cotton, The Zone is kinda stretchy...huh, like spandex. Neat!"

"But you're eating up the matter that makes you you--" Flash says, hands waving.

"Dude, everything you are was once a star," Phantom says, waving a hand at all of him. "Every last bit of you and everything around you. Star. Now replace it with ectoplasm, and we just cut out all the middlemen."

Flash watches him guzzle up the last bit looking faintly green himself. "That still kind of sounds like a justification for cannibalism."

"I promise to never eat you," Phantom says with uncomfortable emphasis, suddenly solemn. He stares at Flash without blinking until Flash, deeply unnerved, backs out of the room.

"Not funny," Batman says, flipping a page in his newspaper. "He was supposed to be on Watch Duty."

"Now Batman," Phantom drapes his tail across the man's shoulders and lets his fangs elongate and multiply.

"W̵̢̛͓͉̼͔͉͖̖̥͍̪̲̥̯̞̝͎͔̩̹̙͌̽̐͜ͅh̵̨̠̳̖͔̬̭̟̗̠̹͕̟̮̬͓̺͙̊͛͒ͅo̶̧̢̡̨̨̦͚̼̞̫͈͚̤̜͉̰̱̭͙̣̼͙̱͚͓͐͌̒̋̇ͅ ̵̡̡̰͙̠̦͙̼̘̪͈̻̟̙̳͚̤̮̖̱̎̐̀̇̾͛͊͛͊̈̋̈̋̿̍͑̔̏̎͑̒͗̚͘͝͠͝ͅs̵̡̹̣̗̼̙͓͖͉̒̃͋̂̄̄̈́͋̾̈́̀̎̉̓̒̇͐̎͊̚͝͝a̵̡̧͔͍͍͙͔͖̮̦͚͍̖̲͖͖̻̍͊͆̊̿́̿̅́̈͠͠͠i̴͙͙̾̌͊̓̂̌̒͒d̶̨͚̳̟̲̻̤͇͖̞͙̹̯͙̟͓͙͇͖̺̺̎͊͐̏͌̌̅̄́̏̽̓̃͂̓͜͜͝ͅͅ ̵̧̢͎͔̜̮̼̻̫̗̼͙͍͔̺͎͐̍̈́͜͜͜I̵̢̢̛̙̤̳͈̮̜̩͇͕̠̻̫̳̟̤̭͙͖̓̾̓̇̈́̂͒͂͌̍̎̅̑̇̔̇́͌͜͝ ̵̛̣̮̩̩̞̯̻̱̻̳͍̞͙̗̤̗̥͔̭̥͒͒̌͗̿͐̓̇̈̔̌͒̋̑̽̇͜͝ͅẁ̷̧̮̳̗̗͍̠̦̃a̸̡̧̛̛̺͈͍̟̣̫̺̟̗̥̲̻̥͔͔̲̱̣̩̠̖̰̿̋̄͆̀͋́̐̈́́̈́͌͆̅͂́̈́̓͗́̇ş̵̨̨̨̛̛͔̦͚̦̝̺̯̗͓̼̟͙̼̩̣̺̠̭̘͂̏̓̋̓̋̇̏͊̃͊͊͋̊̑̀͌̂͋͐͘̚͜͝ ̶̢̧͍͓̹̘͍̱̬̜̙̮̖̒̃͊̀̀̓̈́̆̀͐̇̿̀̇̿̆̔̂̈́͘͠ͅͅj̵̯̱̇̈́̌̈͌͆̋̑̇̋̎̐̈̇̓͘͘̚͝o̷̢̙͎̹̰̟̳̼̠̖͉̦̘̺̙͑͂͑̌̉͗̑͑̉͌͜͜͠͝͠ͅk̶̡͇̈́͋̈̈́̐̀̂̈́̽̾͌̂̾̊̑͘͠ḯ̸̢̢̢̞̱̦͙͖̱̙͕̞̮̫̱̣̤̥͍͍̫̗͔͙̞̘̓̂̄͂̿̉͒̈̍̅̍̅̍̏̋̕͘͝͠͝ͅņ̴̛͉̲̮̫̩̙̠̯̤͚̠̥̳͈̝͇́̂͑g̶̛͎̻̟͍̯̪̺̬͍̲̱͇̪̩̰͆̓͊̃̅͗̆̈́̊̈́͘?"

Batman lifts his head from the newspaper silently.

"Ugh, fine!" Phantom says, throwing his hands up. "I'll take next watch."

"Hn."

[eclips-moon]

Batboys finding you sleeping in wierd places headcanon:

Damian Wayne

"Bro, you can't keep doing this." Damian finds you sleeping in the weirdest spots, and he's lowkey over it. One time, you're passed out in the Batmobile, snacks everywhere, legs hanging out the door. He just stands there, staring at you like you're the most chaotic thing he's ever seen. “How do you even fall asleep like this?” But of course, he’s not gonna leave you there. He rolls his eyes, adjusts the seat, and tucks you in (very dramatically) like, “Don’t make this a habit.” He’s not mad. He’s just... concerned? But mostly shook by your ability to sleep anywhere.

Tim Drake

“I literally told you to stop drinking so much coffee.” Tim finds you asleep everywhere—face down on a stack of papers, in the middle of the Batcave, on top of the Batcomputer. He doesn’t even act surprised anymore. He’s just like, “Well, I warned you.” One time, you’re passed out on the couch, snacks everywhere, and Tim picks up the coffee cup you definitely spilled while napping. “I love you, but this is chaos,” he says, brushing some crumbs off your face. "Next time, please at least use the chair." He leaves a note with your next coffee: “You’re welcome.”

Dick Grayson

“You’re so cute, but like, also... why???” Dick finds you asleep in the kitchen, spread out on the counter like you’ve been hit by a truck. He can't help but laugh, but also he's lowkey impressed that you managed to fall asleep there. He pulls out his phone and takes a pic (because of course he does). “I’m definitely showing this to everyone,” he says, not even hiding his grin. You wake up mid-photo, trying to act like you weren’t drooling, but Dick just chuckles. "Gonna frame this one." You’re like, “Please, no,” and he’s already texting it to the group chat.

Jason Todd

“You’re literally doing this to mess with me, aren’t you?” Jason finds you sleeping everywhere—on the floor, under the Batmobile, sprawled out on the roof. He’s got that annoyed big brother vibe, like, “You’re going to get a crick in your neck,” but the second he sees you all cute and dead to the world, he can’t help but sigh. One time, he even gently picks you up to move you. You wake up in a daze, and he’s like, “I didn’t sign up for this. But you look adorable when you're asleep, so whatever.” “No need to carry me, I’m fine,” you mumble. “I’m doing it because I have no choice,” he responds.

Duke Thomas

“How do you even sleep like this?” Duke is actually concerned when he finds you sleeping in random spots, but at the same time, it’s kinda funny. One time, he finds you passed out on the floor of the training room, head on a punching bag like it’s your pillow. He’s like, “You... you okay? How does that even happen?” He sits down next to you and gives you a little nudge. “You’re making me look bad, you know that? I’m over here trying to be all cool, and you’re taking naps in the middle of the Batcave.” He laughs but also kinda adjusts you, “Next time, at least use a pillow or something.”

Bruce Wayne

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?” Bruce, being Bruce, finds you sleeping in the weirdest places—and honestly, he’s just not even shocked anymore. One time, you’re passed out on top of the Batcomputer, legs dangling off the side like you’re part of the furniture. Bruce just stares for a second before doing the whole “I’m-not-angry-I’m-just-disappointed” thing. “Please don’t sleep in here,” he says, carefully moving you to a more... comfy spot (probably your bed, but he’s not gonna say that). He tries to keep it chill, but there's definitely a dad vibe. "You could’ve at least stayed on the couch." You wake up, confused, and he’s like, “Just... don't fall asleep in the Batsuit next time.”

[green-eyedfirework]

The first key to successful undercover work is to believe you aren’t undercover.  To truly inhabit the persona you came up with, to reach for that instead of anything else when scared or angry.  To think of real life as a particularly lucid dream instead of reality.

After half a year undercover, Dick thinks he’s pretty much got the hang of it.  It helps that the cover is so close to a reality that-could've-been--sent to juvie after his parents were murdered, ran away from his foster family after presenting as omega, on the fringes of society, wandered to Bludhaven and ended up getting in after Wilson's First Son spotted him while bartending and offered him a better job.

Also helpful that the circus never kept actual records, Dick was marked down as 'John Doe' in juvie because he refused to speak to them, and Bruce created his legal identity practically out of thin air, so there are only a handful of people that know the name Dick Grayson in the first place.  A combination of boarding school out-of-state and distance from his rich, reclusive foster father meant that he has very little of an online social presence, which of course, makes Detective Richie Wayne a great candidate for a long-term undercover job with the Wilson Mob.

The other key to successful undercover work is to develop a finely honed sense of paranoia, and right now, all of Dick's detectors are on screaming alert.

"What?" he said, staring at Wintergreen's unsmiling face.  Usually he didn't question his orders, but usually he wasn't ordered to accompany Slade Wilson to an unspecified meeting.

Every time he was in touch with his handlers, he had to tell them that Wilson was both suspicious and not stupid, it was going to take time for Dick to get close to him, but Bludhaven PD was not known for its patience.

"I said, your job tonight will be accompanying Slade as his personal guard to a dinner meeting," Wintergreen repeated, looking annoyed.

"Why me?" Dick asked, unable to fully suppress the anxiety.  Luckily, he was expected to be anxious--Dick hadn't made himself out to be ambitious and he hadn't interacted much with the elder Wilson at all.

"He requested you personally.  I didn't care enough to ask why."

"Calm down, Dickie, my dad doesn't bite," Grant snickered, his arm casually looped around Dick's shoulders.  "I've told him how well you performed on the Bulgari job, maybe he just wants to see for himself."

Dick turned to give Grant a tremulous smile and wished it was that simple.  But Dick had felt Slade Wilson's eye following him around on more than one occasion, lingering on him when Grant made his reports, and giving him casual once-overs that Dick had no trouble recognizing.

The real reason Detective Richie Wayne was sent for this undercover mission--the department had few omega police officers, and fewer that corresponded to Slade Wilson's reported tastes.  Of course, they couldn't outright come out and tell him to prostitute himself to the East Coast's biggest mob boss to get them intel, but Dick wasn't naive.  The 'hints' had starting becoming more explicit as his handler got increasingly impatient.

And now the opportunity had landed in Dick's lap.

"That makes sense," Dick said, suppressing the tight ball of dread and shoving it down.  "I won't disappoint Mr. Wilson."

Grant scoffed at the thought and dragged Dick out to head to dinner.  Wintergreen didn't say anything, just continued to stare at Dick with that unnerving gaze until Dick was out of his office.

Dick, for his part, tried to remember how to breathe.

[strawberryforks]

quite the pair // jason todd x reader

summary: you and jason are bestfriends, partners, and you’re sick.

warnings: swearing, alludes to assualt, violence, throwing up

word count: 1961

there was more to jason todd than met the eye. he didn’t make friends easily but he was a good one. he had you, who he met in the streets, back when he was living there. who smiled at him and handed him a can of corn that had it not been unopened, he would’ve swore was poisoned. or a disguised explosive. or… well, he didn’t know, but nothing good ever came for free.

he needed to repay you somehow so he stuck around. he didn’t do anything but he watched. observed.

you were skin and bones; the picture of malnutrition. you shivered and your teeth gnashed against each other while you slept, leaning against the side of a green bin. you had a blanket for the longest time and then you didn’t. he’d come back from stealing and selling tires to find the only warmth you had was your own embrace.

your arms were wrapped tightly around yourself and you rocked back and forth. the only sound in the entire alleyway, as he approached, was your breathing and the thrumming of your head as you banged it lightly on the metal behind you. you heard his footsteps, heard them get louder, heard him get closer, heard them stop in front of you but still, you kept your eyes shut tight. you didn’t have anything else to give, you couldn’t help anymore, and more than that, you couldn’t bare to see the disappointment in someone’s eyes when you turned them down.

it was dark–you recall it being around midnight because moments before the footsteps, before meeting the boy who’d come to change your life, you were staring up at the sky. clouds were thick and dark but moonlight sat behind them, just a lighter patch in the sky, waiting for it’s chance. the stars, though, there were none. the closest to that you had gotten that night was when a man flicked away the ash from his cigarette. on it’s decent to the puddle ridden asphalt it glowed a deep orange. like a shooting star, hell, like a meteor, you wished on it. you don’t remember what you wished for, just that it came true. you felt wind in your face and fabric was draped over your shoulders, then there were hands.

“up you go,” jason encouraged. he’d pulled you into his side, given you his sweater, and got some food into you.

he’d more than repaid the debt but… you did your part too. you made him smile–a feat he didn’t think was even possible, having not used what he assumed were dead and decaying muscles, in so long. you told dumb jokes but they made him laugh so you didn’t care, you called him jay and you helped when you could. he kept you as close to him at all times as he could.

gotham was a dangerous place. it was too dangerous for someone as good as you, but he couldn’t help that. he couldn’t make the world a better so he had to make you worse–because your trusting nature? your tendency to see the best in people? to smile at strangers and go without so someone else wouldn’t have to? it fucking terrified him.

he brought you with him one night, and made you a witness to various crimes. each time, he quieted you, pressed his hand over your mouth and whispered horrors he’d seen. he told you how the world was and how it worked.

but until something happened to you, until jason came back from stealing and saw a man hurting you, you didn’t believe that the whole world was awful. until jason slammed a tire rim into him, staining it red and leaving him limp, you thought there was some good. then you didn’t. you realised there wasn’t.

and then? then batman took you both in. the batman. bruce-motherfucking-wayne decided to play dad to two homeless, orphaned, violent, and thieving teenagers.

at first he just wanted to take jason. he had no interest in raising a girl but when he looked at you, watched you hug jason, whisper “goodbye,” and saw you ready to sprint away, it was decided.

the world was selfish and in a way it had made you selfish too. but there was one person you were willing to be unselfish for and it was him. jason todd. your jay. you wanted what was best for him, you’d live on the streets, die there too, if that’s what it took. then, batman, who’d decided he also wanted what was best for jason, realised that it was you. you were what he needed.

both of you were placed in the backseat of the batmobile that’s tires, much to jason’s displeasure, were still in place.

then you were brought to your new home. it had more to offer than the occasional canned food and bread crumbs. you didn’t have to dumpster dive, didn’t have to struggle. there were heaters and blankets and stocked cupboards and even a butler named alfred.

batman didn’t have plans for you, just jason, who he wanted as his robin. you never liked feeling left out so you trained too. just… privately at first. sitting on jason’s bed (you weren’t yet comfortable sleeping anywhere he wasn’t and batman came to realise that superhero–super vigilante, or whatever, it didn’t matter because there was absolutely nothing short of attaching a ball and chain to both of your ankles that he could do about it) you swung your legs over the edge, them not quite hitting the floor, and made what jason thought was small talk. idle conversation.

“so, how was training?” he dabbed at his face with a cloth, collecting sweat, and sighed. he didn’t mind training, i mean, he thought it sucked, but liked that there was a goal to work towards, and that the goal was him being stronger, and that if he was stronger no one would ever be able to hurt anyone he cared about–there was only you–ever again. “what did batman make you do today? anything different?”

“well,” said jason. “we sparred today. i ran on the treadmill, lifted weights, and i think he made me do, like, 1000 pushups.” jason may have exaggerated there, but you didn’t quite understand. sarcasm, hyperboles, they weren’t your forte. it took you a full twenty four hours, but in sets of ten, you managed. you fought one of the pillows in your room–not well, but you did, and ran around the bed that you’d pulled into the centre of the room until you were panting. the next day you couldn’t spoon fucking cereal into your mouth but six months later batman finally caved.

“train me.” you said, not begging anymore–long past that actually. “i can do just as many pushups as jason can. i can run fast. i can do good, batman. i know i can. i know there's not enough good in the world, that it’s a shit place and that there’s shit people but i’m not one of them. i’ll do good, be good. i swear.”

“you can train but for self defence purposes. robin and i have the crime fighting handled.”

“i’ve been training. i want to train with you and jay. if there's something i can’t do i’ll sit out, you won’t have to babysit me, i won’t say a single word. just let me try. if i fail i’ll drop it.”

when batman tries to make you fail your odds aren’t great. when your best friend, his sidekick, taps out before you do, they improve drastically.

with the bat’s stamp of approval you kept training and training. you patrolled with them, with jason, and while jason was robin you were batgirl. at 18 (you) and 19 (jason) the two of you go out on your own without batman, he checks on you sometimes but doesn’t feel the need to chaperone you on your crime fighting endeavours.

it’s around ten pm, when the crime picks up in the streets, and jason is beginning to get impatient. you’re not the most punctual but right now you’re really late. he could start without you, scale a building and begin searching for some drug deal to bust or mugging to stop. he could… but he doesn’t. jason–well, robin, pulls out his phone and calls you. you’re in bed, not dressed in your suit, and it’s all you can do to roll over. you slide your thumb against your screen, answering with a barely audible groan. your face is pressed into the blanket and jason’s voice spills through the speaker. “where are you?”

“m’home…” you manage.

“what’s wrong? did something happen? home as in the apartment or–screw it,” jason is standing up, he’s checking your location himself, seeing that you’re at the wayne manor and sprinting back the way he came.

“jay it’s okay. i’m fine, just sick.”

“i’m coming home.”

“no,” you whine, “you have patrol. protect the city and the people. duty and…” you cough. rub your throat, “whatnot.”

jason doesn’t respond but you know he’s not listening. you hear the sound of clothes being removed and assume he’s changing out of his suit.

you roll your eyes, he really is stubborn. you try again “you’re a hero, jay.” what’s supposed to be a motivational speech is interrupted by a coughing fit. you slam your finger down on the mute button and press your face into the big bowl you took from the cabinet, retching.

when you’re done, you hit unmute. “you’ve got to do your thing and save the world.” your voice is scratchy, your throat hurts. your ribs too. you’ve been in serious battles less painful–against two face, the joker. being sick sucks.

“i plan to. but my world’s at home in bed, coughing her lungs out. i’m stopping at the drug store and i’ll be home, ‘kay?”

“okay…”

jason makes you stay on the phone until he walks through the door. he hangs up and helps you to the bathroom. “you should’ve told me you were puking i would’ve grabbed some pepto,” you shake your head, “wouldn't be able to keep it down,” and watch as he not-so-subtly attempts to slide the bag of your favourite candies behind him. your smile comes out pained as another wave of nausea hits and you’re in the bathroom dry heaving above the toilet. he holds your hair back (if it’s shorter, he rubs your scalp soothingly) and when you’re done, helps you back to the bed.

he’s walking around you, doting. there’s a water and ibuprofen on the nightstand, he’s brought you a heating pad, filled a hot water bottle, and pulled the blankets all the way up. tucking them under your chin. he’s checked your temperature twice and walks back in front of the bed toying with the thermometer. “jay, stop pacing.”

“are you okay? should i get alfred?”

“i’ll be fine. either leave so you don’t get sick or come here,” you pat the spot next to you and jason walks over, lowering himself down onto the bed and pulling you into his arms. he kisses your forehead, “my immune system seems to be a lot stronger than yours, batgirl.”

“mhm,” you agree. “all the training in the world couldn’t help that, robin.”

jason grumbled and you raised a brow. “still mad about that?”

“that you got the bat prefix? nah, i’m happy being a sidekick named after a bird. ‘course i’m mad. not at you though.” never at you is what he leaves out, “at batman. my hero name could’ve been way cooler.”

“are you telling me you’d rather be batboy?” you ask, tone incredulous.

he chuckles, shoulders raising in a shrug. “we’d make quite the pair.”

“we already do, dummy.”

that night batman covers for you two–he patrols and you stay in your partners arms, recovering. later, he helps alfred make you soup. everything is easy with him. even getting better.

[miryum]

Sweetheart- Chapter 1

Summary: Jason Todd finds himself in a Groundhog Day situation and it won't stop until he finds his soulmate who's going through the exact same situation. But will you two stop being idiots long enough to too see what's in front of you? Not even the author knows...

Reader and Jason Todd have to repeat the same day until they realise they're soulmates, but once they do so, a soulmate mark will appear and their lives continue

Disclaimer: I know very little of the DC Universe (having never watched/read any of the movies/comics...) so please feel free to correct me on shit, but again, I took liberties with the ages and jobs (like, I know the majority of the Wayne kids aren't high school age and Bruce would never hand his job off, but I will stab canon until the pages of this fanfic run red with its blood)

ao3 link

Principal Gordon sighed and leaned back in his chair. “What is it now, Todd?”

Jason shrugged. “I have absolutely no idea. Mr. Queen just doesn’t like me.”

“Or is it that you were being disruptive in his class and harassing Ms. L/n?” Principal Gordon raised a brow.

Jason chuckled and crossed his arms. “Harassing her? I wouldn’t call it harassing. Just some harmless flirting.”

“Mr. Queen said you were throwing crumpled pieces of paper at her that had inappropriate pick-up lines written on them,” Principal Gordon said. “You also disturbed Mr. Allen and Ms. Grace?”

“Bart and Artemis are exaggerating,” Jason’s leather jacket hung around him and he shoved his hands in the pockets. “Just some friendly banter. They’re too eager to rat me out. I would take their words with a grain of salt.”

Principal Gordon rubbed his eyes. He was counting down the days until Jason either graduated or dropped out- whichever came first. “Mr. Todd, this has been the… what? Fourth time you’ve been in my office this semester?”

“Fifth, if you count the day you were out sick and Mr. James had to deal with me,” Jason added. Principal Gordon hummed and nodded in agreement.

“You’re a good kid and you know how I know that?”

“‘Cause of my dad and my brothers and sister?” Jason rolled his eyes.

“No,” Principal Gordon shook his head and he softly smiled. “Because of your grades,” he pushed Jason’s transcript towards the boy. It showed near-perfect marks. “And because of your behaviour- excluding things like this.” Jason looked down at the floor and scuffed his shoe on the tile. “It’s not just Mr. Wayne who’s convinced you’re a good kid. It’s Mr. Kent and Ms. Prince, too. You help your siblings and are extremely protective of them. You have compassion and loyalty, Jason. You simply exhibit them in different ways.”

“Yeah, uh, thanks, Gordon.” Jason stood and avoided the principal’s stare. “Now, if you don’t mind, the bell’s about to ring and I don’t wanna miss any more education than I need to. You know me- need to fill up this big brain with as much information as I can!”

Principal Gordon huffed, his moustache twitching, but waved him away. Jason grinned, gave him a salute, and dashed out of the office, slinging his backpack over a shoulder. Once he was out of the door, he let the smile drop, blowing a piece of hair out of his face. Jason’s eyes flickered to the clock, and on cue, the bells sang throughout the school. Automatically, doors opened and the halls were filled. Jason weaved and pushed through the students, intent on locating one person.

“How was ol’ Gordon?” An arm was slung around his shoulder and Jason groaned and pushed Dick off. 

“How’d you find out?” 

“Cass texted the group chat.” Jason dug out his phone and swore at the numerous messages he found waiting for him. Dick and Cass were gleeful, Damian was being a little shit, Tim hadn’t said anything, and Alfred and Bruce were overwhelmingly disappointed in him. 

Jason shoved the phone back in his pocket, ignoring the messages, and scanned the halls. 

“Idiot little brother,” Dick dramatically sighed, hooking an arm around Jason again. “But I don’t know if you’re more stupid in academics or romance.”

“Can you shut the hell up?” Jason asked, punching Dick in the torso. He rounded the corner and there you were. “Cass! Can you not rat me out next time?” He directed his attention to his sister who was leaning by your locker. 

“Jason! Can you not interrupt my conversation next time?” Cass retorted, pushing off the lockers. You shot Jason a look of disgustment and he winked back. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Jason saddled up next to you. “Did’ya like my notes?”

“Did’ya like the principal’s office?” you shot back. “They might as well give you your own chair from how much time you spend there. What’re you clocking in? Four hours a day? Wouldn’t you say that deserves some compensation?”

“You would think so,” Jason said. “But it turns out I need to join the union first.” You closed your locker and started off towards your next class. Jason wrestled your books from you and you begrudgingly let him. “What’s that?” His voice lowered and his eyes fixated on a point on your arm. 

“Hmm? Oh, the doctor had to draw some blood a couple days ago. They couldn’t find the vein right away so it left a bruise.”

“No one touched you, yeah?” He lifted a brow and you shook your head in reassurance. “Good.” He shifted your books to one arm and his muscles flexed. Not that you were looking. He ran a finger over the bruise. “You know you could tell me?” Cass rolled her eyes to Dick who snickered.

“I know, Jason. You’ve been adamant about that. Now, if you could give me back my necessary textbooks, I would love to go to Science.”

“Chivalry isn’t dead, sweetheart. Now where’s your desk?” 

“Mr. Todd,” Mr. Kent exhaled as Jason entered the classroom. “Didn’t you already grace me with your presence today? What are you doing back?”

“Good to see you too, Mr. Kent!” Jason grinned. “Just dropping off my girl and then I’ll be outta your hair.” 

“Not your girl,” you corrected, though you knew it was futile.

“If you’re not dating anyone, you’re my girl,” Jason shot back. “And as I don’t see a soulmate brand on your wrist, you’re still mine.”

“Hello Ms. L/n,” Mr. Kent tried to hide a smile at the antics of his students. 

You sat down at your desk and greeted your neighbour, Roy. “Hello Y/n. Jaybird… ” Roy gave a shit-eating grin to his friend. “How was Gordon?”

“You asshole,” Jason griped. A warning bell rang and he slowly started backing up towards the door. “Goodbye, sweetheart. I’ll see you in English.” You hummed noncommittally in reply. “Goodbye, shitface!” he called to Roy, throwing up his favourite finger. Roy blew him a kiss.

“He is whipped.” Your desk partner whistled. 

“No, he’s not,” you said. “I don’t know what we are, but I’m surprised he even looks at me, and certainly not in a romantic way.”

“Have you seen him hold anyone else’s stuff? That boy would burn the entire school down if it meant your safety.”

“Have you seen him with his girlfriends? Plural.” You opened your notebook as Mr. Kent started his science speech.

“And when was the last time he had a girlfriend?” Roy rested an elbow on the desk, completely ignoring the teacher. 

“Why the fuck are we still talking about this? Science and stuff are more critical than my non-existent relationships.”

“Y/n, I think your love life will always be the single-handedly most important thing to me ever,” Roy said honestly.

“Pity that there’s nothing to be interested in.” 

“You realise you inadvertently belittled yourself.”

“Yes, Roy, I’m aware.”

------

Jason woke up to screaming and shouts. Another ordinary day. “Jason! Get up!” Tim banged on the door. “You’re gonna be late!” Jason groaned and covered his head with his pillow. 

The door flew open and Cass waltzed in. “I think I left my book in here last night.” She started rummaging around the nightstand. 

“Get out!”

“Come on, you’ll be late to see Y/n!” Dick called from the doorway before running off to shower.

Jason paused. Dick was right. He needed to get up so he could meet you at the school doors. Not that you wanted to meet him, but he was always there anyway. 

“Oh, there he is,” Cassandra laughed. “That lovesick fool.”

“Ah, shut up. What’s for breakfast?” Jason slowly stood, stretching his sore muscles. He had spent last night at the gym in front of the punching bag. The rest of his siblings had eventually joined him in the Wayne gym. Damian had challenged him to a sparring match in which Damian and Tim teamed up on him and barely managed to win. He was going easy on them.

“Albert made pancakes.”

“Sweet,” Jason tugged on his clothes and signature leather jacket. “Do you ever find it weird that Alfred is the owner of a multimillion dollar company and he still makes us pancakes?”

“Do you ever find it weird that Bruce is the economics teacher at our school and you still wind up in Gordon’s office every other day?” Cass found her book and started out of the room. Jason followed after her.

“Do you ever find it weird,” Damian called from the bathroom, “that Dad quit his job to start teaching the youth of Gotham City and handed his company over to his butler after I was born? Clearly, we know who the favourite is.”

“Do you ever find it weird that you guys are interrupting my shower?!” Dick stuck his head out of said shower, motioning for Damian to close the door.

“Do you ever find it weird that in a house of idiots,” Tim hopped down the stairs. “I’m able to stay sane?”

“Dude, same.” Cass fistbumped Tim and they shared a secret handshake.

When the family finally arrived at Gotham High, after Jason’s bacon being stolen by Damian, Tim absent on account of before-school extracurriculars, and Alfred flipping pancakes while sporting an apron over his suit, Jason couldn’t help but scan the crowd. It was a routine he had grown accustomed to.

You were stepping off the bus, talking to Artemis and Kori. “Go on, loverboy,” Dick snickered.

“Fuck you,” was his reply.

“Hey, Todd,” Cass called. “When we get back home, I’m gonna re-dye your hair. You’re losing the white streak.”

Jason groaned. “Fine,” he grumbled, biting back a remark that it wasn’t dyed. He had lost that battle a long time ago.

“What’re you reading today, L/n?” He snatched your backpack away from you, intent on keeping his chivalrous streak alive.

“The Fault In Our Stars, a reread,” you said. 

“You don’t have to prove it to me, doll,” Jason said. 

You took a breath at the new nickname, but were quick to bite back. “Prove it? I don’t know what you mean.”

“You don’t need to tell me you’ve read it before to prove you’re smart. You’re telling me it’s a reread cause you’re showing that you could be reading harder, more complex books but you “settled” for this one. But don’t worry, doll, I know you’re smart. Might even have to get you to tutor me.”

“I’ve seen your grades, Jason. You don’t need a tutor.”

“How sweet,” Jason placed a hand over his heart, pretending to swoon. “The Lady L/n thinks me as smart as she.”

“I never said you’re as smart as me,” you corrected.

“Care to make a little wager, then?” Jason held open the school door for you. Artemis rolled her eyes when he let it swing shut after you and she pulled it back open for her and Kori. 

“No,” you deadpanned. “Because I know whatever idea you have concocting in that little brain of yours will be degrading.” You paused at your locker, tugging your bag back. You said your goodbyes to Artemis and Kori, promising to see them later without a parasite named Jason clinging to you. 

“Get a better score on the English test today,” Jason proposed. “And I’ll leave you alone if you ask me to. But if I get a higher score, I get to call you my girl.”

“Absolutely not.” You shut him down but couldn’t help your competitive spirit spark up. “However,” you swung the locker closed and you could see a glimmer alight in Jason’s eyes. “If you win, I will allow you to take me on a date.” Jason’s lips parted and his tongue shot out to moisten them. His head tilted up, eyes still locked on yours. “Maybe you’ll finally get over your obsession with me.” Your throat closed up at the prospect. Not that you would ever admit it, but you liked the attention Jason was giving you. He made you feel special. He made you feel loved.

“Obsession?” Jason whispered. He adjusted his jacket, fiddling with the zipper. “Is that what- you know what, yeah.” His supposed confidence returned. “But I’d be worried, Y/n. I’m not sure I’d be able to get rid of you if you go on a date with me.”

Rid of you. “Yeah, sure. And this is on the likelihood you’ll get a better score than me in English? That is where I thrive, Todd.”

“Same, actually.” Jason smirked. “It’s my highest grade.”

“Then let the best student win.” You stuck out your hand and Jason shook it, ignoring the warmth in his chest he got from touching you. 

“I will.”

“Funny. I was just about to say that.” 

Jason brushed a hand over your bruise. “When you’re done with Fault in our Stars, have you read The Count of Monte Cristo?”

“No. Would you recommend it?”

“Highly.”

You hummed and grabbed his hand to pull him out of the way of a group of theatre kids. “I’ve always wanted to go to Monte Cristo.”

“Sweetheart, that’s an expensive first date,” Jason joked, gripping your hand tighter when you tried to tug away.

“Eh, maybe as a fifth date.” Jason felt his face ignite at your words. He would kill for the prospect of a fifth date with you.

“I have to ace this test, first and foremost.” 

“An impossible feat.” You elbowed the boy in the side before winking at him and darting into your first class. You collapsed into your desk, your smug demeanour collapsing too. When was the last time you had openly flirted with someone? 

“I can’t wait to plan the wedding!” Kori squealed. You groaned loudly in response.

Outside the classroom, Jason couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. “You finally got an in.” Tim appeared out of nowhere and clapped him on the back. “I never thought I’d live to see the day.” 

Jason couldn’t find an insult to throw back, something that in itself spoke volumes. “How was Coding Club?” 

Tim frowned. Did Jason ever ask about his extracurriculars? “It was good…” he said slowly. “We’re designing this robot to-” he started rambling as Jason sauntered down the hall, looking as if he’d won the lottery. And he hadn’t even taken the test yet.

------

Jason glanced over at you. You had finished the test a couple minutes ago and were now reclined in your desk, copy of The Fault in our Stars propped up and Jason could almost trace the crease between your brows at your concentration. He shook his head to clear the distracting thoughts and tried to focus back on the test.

Explain the significance of John Proctor proclaiming, “God is dead!” and then reciting prayers before his execution.

 Jason started scribbling out a reply and was soon caught up in his response.

Ms. Prince surveyed her students closely, looking for any sign of cheating. Her eyes locked on you. Ms. Prince always had a soft spot for you. You communicated and spoke up in class and definitely weren’t afraid to advocate for your beliefs. But she also noticed how you and Jason tested and battled each other. She noticed how the two of you willed each other to be better. You kept each other on your toes. Maybe that was one of the reasons she sat you next to each other. Maybe she could see the harbouring feelings. Maybe she just wanted to see some drama during the 160+ days she was stuck in school. 

Jason snickered to himself and Ms. Prince silently prayed to her gods that he kept his responses appropriate. She also prayed that you and Jason would figure out your feelings before the end of the school year. She wasn’t going to sit through your countless arguments and flirtatious comments for nothing.

The class eventually came to an end and Ms. Prince announced, “the scores will be released by nine o’clock tonight. Good job and good luck.”

Jason swept out of the room, giving you a wink akin to the one he received earlier that day. 

“He’s an annoying little bitch,” Cass muttered.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything, ‘cause he’s your brother, but yeah,” you agreed. “Incredibly cocky and self-absorbed.”

“Amen,” she slapped you a high-five before bidding you goodbye. Soon, one sibling was replaced by another and Damian ran up to you.

“Y/n!” he crowed, latching himself to your arm. “How’ve you been? Good? Good. Listen, do a guy a favour, will you? I’ve been with you this entire time.”

“What the hell did you do and am I going to get in trouble for it?” you hissed, but automatically pulled him on the inside of you, instinctively shielding him from any oncoming danger.

“Nothing, nothing,” Damian promised. He had learned early on that the answer to everything was deny, deny, deny. “But Dad may be finding glitter in his desk drawer right about now.” 

“Damian,” you groaned. “That’s a fantastic prank and I love you for it, but your Dad is not the type of person who wants glitter in their files. Next time get Mr. Kent.” 

“Ooh, good tip.” The boy let out a laugh that sounded a bit too evil for your taste and you refrained from smacking him upside the head. 

“Damian Wayne!” A shout came down the hall.

“Shit,” Damian clutched your arm. “Remember, I’ve been with you the entire time.” 

“I know the drill,” you rolled your eyes. “I’ve been graced with your presence far too much to not know how to act.”

Damian paused and studied you. You quizzically stared back. “I like you,” the freshman suddenly decided.  

“Thanks? I thought that was already established.” 

“I can see why Jason adores you.”

“Excuse me?!” 

“Oh, this is my class!” Damian beamed. “Gotta go before Dad catches me! Bye, Y/n!”

“Bye? But what do you mean-” The boy ran away before you could demand answers. 

“Y/n?” You turned around to find Mr. Wayne in front of you. “Do you happen to know where my youngest went?” 

“Your youngest? As in Damian? He was with me the entire passing period, but just went off to his next class.” The lie came easily.

Mr. Wayne sighed and ran a hand down his face. “You’re lucky I like you so much, Y/n. If you weren’t friends with my children, I would have half a mind to put you in detention.” 

“But you like me,” you reminded him, smiling widely. “So… you won’t.”

“As long as you accept my invitation to join us for dinner tonight,” Mr. Wayne negotiated. “It’s been too long since Alfred fed you and he’s starting to worry that Jason scared you off.” 

“I assure you, Mr. Wayne, Jason hasn’t done anything of the sort. And yes, I would be happy to join your family for dinner.”

“Good,” Mr. Wayne said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to track down my spawn.”

“Bye, Mr. Wayne!” You managed the rest of the day without any more surprises from the Wayne family. In History, Mr. Curry was clearly nursing a hangover, so he put on the “historical” movie Night at the Museum. During Gym, Mr. Allen (Bart’s father, a fact that the boy always lorded over you for no apparent reason) was adamant on playing baseball. Luckily, Kori and Bart were both on your team, so with the combined speed-Bart- and strength- Kori (you were always shocked at how much muscle she packed under her bubbly personality)- your team won by a wide margin. Other than the bet with Jason, it had been a normal day, one you quickly wrote off in the books. Ms. Quinn, the librarian, bid you an enthusiastic goodbye at the end of the day. 

“Hey, Alfred,” you said as you entered the Wayne Manor.

“Miss. Y/n!” Alfred smothered his smile. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. How’ve you been, my dear?”

“I’ve been good. And you? How are things at Wayne Enterprises?”

“Mr. Wayne left the company in good condition, albeit I’ve been making some changes with staffing and schedules. Our stocks have been rising and I can safely say that the company is in good hands.”

“That’s fantastic, Alfred. Though I can’t say I’m surprised. After running this household, running a company can’t be too hard.” 

Alfred was about to retort when Damian ran up to you. “Y/n! Thank god you’re here! I need help with my homework.” 

“You literally have four older siblings and a teacher as a parent. I don’t think you need me,” you said. 

“But, Y/n!” Damian whined and you questioned if he was a freshman, giving how he was acting like a kindergartner. “You’re my favourite!” 

“I can’t argue with that,” you conceded. “What do you need help with?” 

“Science! Dr. Isley is kicking my ass.” Alfred shot the boy a glare and Damian corrected, “She does not like me.” 

“Isn’t Tim better at Science? Or Cass?” After some debate, you finally gave in to the boy’s pleads. “How can I help?” Damian slumped down at the kitchen table which was already occupied by Dick and Tim. You figured that Cass was tucked in her room, independently doing her homework, and you pushed the thought of Jason out of your mind.

“I don’t know… just, help!” He opened his folder and extracted a worksheet filled with equations on density and force. You grimaced. You hadn’t done this in two years and wondered if you could coax the information out of the darkest depths of your mind. You had thrown the equations in the literal and metaphorical trash the second you stepped out of that class. 

You started walking Damian through the questions, simultaneously working on your Maths homework and frequently checking your email to see if your English score had been released. 

“Look what the cat dragged in,” a smooth voice sang in your ear. You elbowed Jason in the gut and he let out a groan. 

“More like, look what your brother dragged in.” 

“The scores just came out, sweetheart,” Jason smirked. “Shall we see who’s the victor?”  Cass groaned as she walked in, heading for the snack cabinet. 

“No! I need help from my future sister-in-law!” Damian cried. Jason turned red and looked away. Dick laughed loudly and even Tim pressed his lips together to stop a laugh.

“Damn right,” You held up your hand and Cass slapped it. “Cass and I are getting married and none of you are invited to the wedding. Except Alfred, of course.” 

“Of course,” Cass agreed.

“Just show me your score,” Jason tried to return to the topic at hand. 

“Fine,” you pulled up your email, a glistening new message from Ms. Prince in your inbox. Oddly enough, you didn’t feel nervous. You would be fine with either outcome, knowing you would never tell Jason to leave you alone. But he didn’t know that. Jason’s nerves were haywire, worried that the second you got your scores, you would tell him to piss off. “What’d you get?” 

“A 97, but technically a 92.” Jason proudly said. “I got extra credit.”

“Ms. Prince doesn’t give out extra credit!” you exclaimed. “What the hell?!”

“If you ask incredibly nicely and tell her it's for a good cause,” Jason said. “Then yes, she does.”

“You fucking told her about our bet, didn’t you.”

“Why yes, yes I did.” Jason looked incredibly proud of himself and you wanted nothing more than to wipe that cocky simper off his face.

“What bet?” Mr. Wayne strutted into the room.

“Nothing,” both you and Jason answered at the same time Dick launched into an explanation of the wager. Mr. Wayne side-eyed both you and his son before peeking at Alfred. Alfred gave him a small shrug in response. 

“Just make sure no one gets emotionally hurt, Jason.” Bruce said. 

“How come you’re telling me and not Y/n!” Jason stood up, looking aghast. 

“Because Y/n is smarter than that,” Mr. Wayne said simply. 

Ignoring his father, Jason rounded on you. “Seriously, doll, what was your score?”

You glanced down at the number on your screen and a silent war raged on in your mind. On one side, your pride stood tall, but on the other, your heart begged for something else. “95,” you blurted out. 

The room went silent. Bruce and Alfred exchanged a glance and Bruce immediately took out his phone and started typing away. Cass looked over your shoulder and hummed. Tim let out a low whistle and Damian cackled. Dick closely watched his younger brother with a pleased smile. 

“Wait, actually?” Jason asked. 

“Yes, Todd,” you sighed. “Actually.” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Bruce show his phone to Alfred. Alfred raised an eyebrow and you had an inkling of who Bruce had texted. 

“Damn, sweetheart,” Jason continued. “Did you throw the test on purpose?” 

“Just take the date, Jason.” You said, “I wouldn’t dwell on it. Though I am expecting you to pull out all the stops.” 

“You won’t be disappointed, sweetheart.” Jason pressed a kiss to your forehead and you pushed him away, ignoring the twists and turns of your stomach.

[elise-51-blog]

WIP snip "Now and Then"

(in which Damian visits Kansas...where TWO Superboys live)

Jon spits out the window. He seems to have really leaned into the midwestern male thing for some reason. Damian wonders if this change could threaten their friendship in some kind of indirect way. Their respective fathers still seem close in a way Damian’s never understood. He’s always taken comfort in the difference between the two generations. However, he may have miscalculated. He hopes not. 

“Look, I need you to be nice today.”

Jon’s looking at him in that way. Hoping not to be disappointed. That hasn’t changed at all.

“I’ll be nice as long as he is,” Damian hates his own tone, so juvenile. It doesn’t happen around too many people. But really, they’ve talked about this already. 

“I just--”

“I don’t think I’ve been here five minutes, and I’m defending myself against crimes I’ve yet to commit.”

Jon stares ahead, taps his fingers against the steering wheel. He’s never still a moment. To his credit, he does look a little sorry, a little anxious.

Damian lets him off. “What’s that thing your father used to say when we came to town?”

Jon’s shoulders drop, he huffs out a laugh. “It always pays to be prepared with you Waynes. And then Bruce would go,”

Damian lowers his timbre just a bit, “That’s real cute, Clark.” 

They both laugh, trading gravely impressions: 

“Fastest man alive, and yet--”

“And yet always slowest on the uptake.”

Jon rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile there too. “Your dad’s got some good ones.”

“He’s always enjoyed a good ribbing. Especially with bumbling Kryptonians.”

Jon tilts his head like he’s listening to the sun. He might be. 

“You know he can hear you right now.”

“Of course he can. But is he listening?”

“I don’t know, Dami, is there a Wayne in town?”

“Please. He’s too busy flirting with Lex Luthor.”

“Careful, Detective,” Jon taps the side of his nose. “You might be onto something.”

Damian tilts his chin up. “I shall use the distraction to plot the downfall of all mankind.”

“And here I thought you preferred mankind. Men-kind.”

“Careful, Detective.” Damian taps the side of his nose.

Jon laughs, big and full, just like his father. Just like all the Kents. 

[autisticrosewilson]

Euthanasia: Aftermath

Characters: Willis Todd, Jason Todd (mentioned), Bruce Wayne (mentioned), Sheila Haywood (mentioned), Joker (Mentioned)

Warnings: Death, violence, implied/referenced torture, Willis loves his son but makes a lot of questionable choices, he also explicitly blames Bruce for Jason's death, this story can be read within the same universe as Spotlight Overture but like WAY in the future

Willis stares blankly at the grave in front of him. The weeping angel looms above, wings relaxed and stone gaze piercing. The sword it's holding looks real, almost out of place on a silent mourner. A vigilant protector, a sentry to look after it's charge.

He hopes she's more successful than he was. Than the Bat was.

He's surprised Wayne buried Jason in a public graveyard, but maybe he shouldn't be. Men like him don't react well to failure. Why would he want a reminder in his backyard?

Willis would scoff, but he's here to pay respects, and his little boy deserves better. Slowly, he reins in the cold anger simmering in his gut, the grief settling cold and heavy on his skin like mid morning fog.

"Hey kiddo," his voice is gruff but he doesn't care, he's honestly impressed he can speak at all around the lump in his throat, "it's been a while." What's it been, six years? Seven? He'd like to say he's been counting the seconds, but mostly it's been a struggle to make it to the next day.

Jason was supposed to be safe. He'd been content to never see his son again, as long as he was being taken care of. Jason wasn't supposed to die anyway.

He'd had so much ahead of him. School, and college, and marriage, and kids and whatever else he damn well pleased because he was a Wayne, and Wayne's always got what they wanted.

It's not a Wayne's name on the grave. This is the resting place of Jason Todd, and Todd's have always had rotten luck.

He avoids making eye contact with the grave next to Jason's, the tall headstone with the little cherubs carved into it. Sheila was no mother, no matter what that plaque says. He knows two wrongs don't make a right, but when he held Jason in his arms the first time he'd been sure his boy was the exception.

And Jason was. Smart, and witty, and sweet, and brave. Maybe if he'd been born somewhere else, to someone else, he'd have had a little more time.

Willis doesn't notice when he sinks to his knees. Doesn't care about the mud staining his pants or the rain drops starting to beat down on his worn leather jacket. He traces the letters of his boy's name with numb fingers.

"...Cathy said you were named after a hero." He tells Jason absently. "Did you know Jason means healer? You...you told me you wanted to be a doctor once. And you always made sure we kept the first aid kit full, even when the cabinets were empty. And you'd stay up late even on school nights for me to come home so you could put dinosaur bandaids on all my little cuts and bruises." His voice breaks on a wheeze and his vision blurs.

"Oh my sweet boy," he chokes on a sob, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry m'sorrym'sorry-"

He wonders, distantly, who it was Jason called for. Who he considered his dad when he took his last breath.

Wonders who Jason would be more disappointed in, if he could see both of the fucking idiots he'd trusted now.

If he were a good man he'd say he was equally to blame, that he doesn't resent Bruce Wayne, that he doesn't care who the last person Jason thought about was as long as it brought him comfort.

Most would say that he is stubborn, vengeful, and possessive. He wouldn't argue with them. Wayne had possibly the easiest kid to take care of in the world, and had still fucked it up. Wayne had all the means to take care of Jason, and yet Willis is kneeling at his son's grave. His son. His little boy. The baby he'd held in his arms, the toddler he'd helped walk, the kid he helped with homework, and took on fishing trips. The boy he taught how to fix a car and throw a punch.

He loves Jason. Has always loved him, probably won't ever stop until he's in the ground right beside him.

But there is a debt to be paid. A life lost is a life owed. The Alley has rules, and although Willis has never been good with those, this is one he wouldn't hesitate with.

The clowns back in Arkham, cheerfully locked away with hands drenched in Jason's blood. The Bat will not protect it from him. Willis will hunt it down and repay every blow tenfold.

He unzips the duffel bag at his side, digging around until under autopsy reports and bolt cutters he finds the tool he's looking for. The crowbar is long, a little rusted but sturdy. More than good enough for this job, he decides, gripping it loosely.

[zaceouiswriting]

The good Dad

Character: Bruce Wayne (father), male reader (son)

Universe: Somewhere in DC

Warnings: Fluff

You've never been more nervous than you are right now. Asking your father to talk was nerve-wracking enough, but sitting in his imposing office? That was something completely different. There are only two reasons anyone would set foot in it. Firstly, to do business with your father. Or secondly, to get yelled at. Which, unfortunately, Dick and Jason had to do many, many times.

For you, however, it was a first. Your hands were sweating, and your left leg was jumping as if you were preparing to break a world record while sitting across from your father, waiting.

Your father hasn't looked at you once. Yet your heart is beating ten times faster than it should be. Even a strange pressure affected your ears, making them unable to hear. The only thing that pops into every corner of your brain is: "What if he's gonna hate me?"

“So!“ 

The sudden, booming voice broke the self-imposed silence in your head. His gaze had lifted from the papers he had been working on, his mouth moving, but you couldn't hear anything else, terrified out of your mind.

"Son?" His voice sounded worried, which somehow had a calming effect on you.

"Y-Yes?" Your voice cracked with nervousness.

"Why did you have to talk to me?"

He didn't mention his busy schedule as he does with your brothers - to make them hurry - which made you smile inwardly as they always whine that you're the favorite, even if you don't see it that way.

"Uh-I-I..." When you tried to say it, you panicked again. Your eyes widened and even winced slightly as you imagined what might happen if you actually admitted what you were there for.

Your father rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Calm down. It can't be that bad."

"I fell in love," you suddenly blurted out. As soon as you understood what you were saying, you clasped your hands over your mouth and immediately looked away.

The older man looked at you confused and even tilted his head slightly. His two hands now lay relaxed on the table. He was worried because you've never been so nervous, especially in front of him.

"So? What's the problem? And why are you telling me this? It's not like I thought you'd never fall in love. Rest assured that I'll support you with whoever you want to be together because-"

"It's Conner. We've been doing so much together lately and-"

Without batting an eyelid, your father's calm, cheerful demeanor soured, "Absolutely not!"

Suddenly a silence fell over you both. Finally, you looked up again and stared at your father in shock. He gazed at you in disappointment, even slightly angry.

"But you just said you'd support-"

"Everyone except the Clark boy! He's bad news and would only break your heart!"

You were shocked. Conner was so sweet and caring. How could your dad even think he would do something like that?

“But Dad!“

"No buts, young man! I would care less if you wanted to be with one of your brothers!"

"First of all: Eww. Second, why? What has he ever done?“

Your father banged his hands on the table in anger. "I said no! Everyone except that boy!" He screamed. "I'll buy you the perfect boy if you want, but I won't let you date the Clark boy! Does he even know about your feelings?"

A bright red blush began to glow on your cheeks. Your father had brought up a subject that was uncomfortable for you. Even though Conner was touchy and slightly lewd, neither of you had said or done anything in particular.

Seeing the sudden sadness in your eyes, your father sighed heavily, got up from his office chair, walked around the desk, and sat on the edge right before you. He carefully lifted your head with one of his hands. "I mean it. You can be with whoever you want: I don't care if it's a boy, his age, or his ethnicity. Everyone except the Clark boy and, by extension, Clark himself."

"Why Dad? Dick and Jason never had restrictions like that!” you blurted out, getting angry yourself.

But your father just sighed. "Because they didn't want to get into the pants of people who weren't good enough for them."

"But Conner is a hard worker. Yes, he still has a lot to learn, but-"

"Little sprout!" he said sternly, silencing you immediately. "I'm just warning you this once. Don't even try to get together with Conner, do you understand?"

Defeated, you suddenly stood up. Forcing your father's hand off of you. "I understand," you mumble sadly.

"That's my good boy!" Your father said happily, pulling you into an unwanted hug. Out of nowhere, he put a kiss on your temple. "You will find someone far better, little sprout. Someone who truly deserves you!"

When he let go of you, your heart was pounding in your throat. It hurt like never before. Your father was always relatively distant. That he was like that made you wonder if it was still your father. What was refuted in the second moment, he sat behind his desk again. He ignores everything that happens around him, as he always does.

You left the room in silence, not wanting to disturb him again. With tears in his eyes, barely able to hold back the sobs, dangerously close to breaking free.

[Masterlist]

[theglidingbat]

There's a sever lack of ghostbat content and I need that to be fixed

Honestly I've been reading a lot of "bruce Wayne is not batman but his kids are still vigilantes and he's a doctor fic"

But like, what if he still went through all the training and shit like till about he gets that angsty ass break up with khoa and decides to call it quits. He goes to med school instead and becomes a doctor hiding away his trianing and shit.

I know damm well Minhkhoa went to his med school to convince him join the training being insanely disappointed that bruce chose to be a sane person.

Minhkhoa khan does not give up by the way

Finally they get into a big sparring match which bruce manges to barely win out of and they make the deal of khoa leaving gotham alone and bruce not meddling wherever his sets his camps bla bla bla

Years later minhkhoa gets the word that there's new vigilantes running around in Gotham and they're Bruce's childern

He comes to Gotham to check it out and baiscally annoys the shit out of the Gotham knights until the hero's of Gotham witness what they they was their "normal civilian doctor dad" beat the shit out of this vigilante pulling all sorts of moves while they just watch shocked.

Even better if khoa is back with bruce and the kids think that their poor father has no idea BUT NOPE

Bruce is well aware and he's more aware of his kids running around in spandex and kevlar [minhkhoa laughed at him as he a mental breakdown about it]

Bruce is also well aware that his childern are stubborn af and eventually stops trying to get them to give up without hinting he already knows.

Also the idea of batman or vigilante bruce only appearing once to save his kids or to beat khoa's ass is amazing.

The kids (escpically dick and Jason who only know the med school stuff) try to scare away minhkhoa and eventually tell their dad everything

Only to be led with a blank stare and a "is that all?" As Bruce sips his coffee in classic Tired dadtm fashion

I also just want doctor bruce patching up his vigilante boyfriend and scolding him for being care less only for khoa to scoff and go "you were and are much worse"

[authenticaussie]

May I request Sad Dad Times for WIP Weekend please? That sounds fun (for me, if not for anyone actually in the fic) 💚

Sad dad time is a two for one special!!!!!!!

"You ruined it!" Damian shouts, and then hates the drop of guilt that forces his blood from his face. It's true, and it's real, and it's Tim's fault that his Father returned, but it's not fair to say it was ruined, how could he have ruined something Damian had waited his whole life for-

But his father had been overbearing. Had been stern, quiet, and demanding, with no clear goals for Damian to exceed. But his father had been disappointed in him, had pulled away during the first few awkward attempts Damian had made to find common ground, and it - this - felt like a fracture in a wound he had never noticed.

But Damian had waited his whole life for his father's love, and his father had not been the one to give it to him.

Timothy stares at him with confusion and frustration warring in his gaze, an exasperated edge to his tone when he says, “Look, baby brat, I'm allowed to join you and B for dinner.”

----

It was with baited breath that the people of Gotham waited for Bruce's curse; with parents such as his, with a silver spoon and want for nothing, it would be strong but lovely. What price would stand in the way of another Wayne patriarch improving the city, and how often could Bruce pay it?

There was no question of if he would; you always had to, no matter what, and what Wayne would hold back from serving Gotham?

And then there was the murder.

The lovely string of fake pearls scattered along the streets of Park Row, and Bruce Wayne, too young, huddled insensate over his parents' bodies. By the time the police arrived, they were long dead, and the blood had soaked into Bruce's pants.

It was a spectacle when Gordon and Pennyworth helped him to his feet, for that was when they thought that the last Wayne had been injured too, blood blooming over his chest and dripping down his arms, and the pictures of Bruce's curse and Alfred Pennyworth were front news for the next week.

What an irony, they whispered, when the news came out, that she would have served him better alive then dead.

What an irony, that Thomas' curse had been twisted so much, in the tragedy, that Bruce's bleeding heart became reality.

It had been hard to get news of the Wayne heir after that; the pictures of him could be constituted as gore, sometimes, with the way blood would seep through any fabric he wore, and no-one in Gotham was truly comfortable with the fact that their city's most prominent figure was now the child that had seen his parents die. They were just curses - but this one felt pointed, felt sad, and while it was never easy to live with a Gotham curse, at least the fridge having teeth was a silly story to share with friends, in comparison to the constant tragedy Bruce Wayne wore.

It was almost a relief when he vanished. Even more so when, upon his return, the bleeding had eased - and Bruce had taken to wearing red undershirts under his suits, well-disguising his bleeding heart.

Alfred Pennyworth never told anyone about the blood trails through Wayne Manor, which had not abated in the intervening years, nor did he talk about what did eventually ease Bruce Wayne's curse.

After all - everyone knew you had to pay the price of your curse, and no Wayne would hold back from serving Gotham.

[dairy-farmer]

Omg thinking more about the infidelity AU where Tim gets knocked up by Bruce but tells Jason the baby is his and then getting knocked up only by people with similar coloring to Jason!

What if one night, Bruce, Dick and Tim go to a gala (Jason is studying at home and helping Alfred take care of the three kids he and Tim have by then, Tim having just had their last baby a month and a half ago) and decide to take a detour?

They go off to some out of the way bedroom and are getting ready to fuck Tim and knock him up with another baby, hopefully, but they're interrupted suddenly when someone walks in. It's Jack Drake, who followed Tim when he saw them all arrive, wanting to see what he's up to and knowing it's nothing good based on how they snuck out of the gala.

It has been four years since Jack has seen his son and he's grown so much, hardly 18 with wide hips, fat tits, a soft body, all thanks to all the brats he's been popping out for Wayne's street rat. Except, well, maybe they'll not all the street rats? He asks Tim if he's sure he's only pushed out Jason's babies, and Tim is so horny beyond any measure that he blurts out no, his first is Bruce's and his second and third could be any of the three of theirs.

Jack walks in further, his cock getting hard, and says in a rough voice "you wanna add a fourth potential baby daddy to that list, Timmy?" To which Tim moans loudly in response, begging for his dad to fuck him

When they get home from the gala, Tim has the loads of Bruce, Dick, and Jack filling his slutty little womb, a lovely plug keeping it all inside, and a few weeks later they confirm that Tim is having baby number four!

(bonus points if, out of curiosity, they test paternity for this one pregnancy, and the Batcomputer confirms that Jack Drake knocked up his only son)

jack drake putting a baby in his little slut of a son!!!!!!!!!!!!😩😩😩😩😩😩❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️👀👀👀👀👀👀👀🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

he hasn't seen tim since they kicked him out for getting pregnant while still in highschool with one of wayn'es spawn though, given the site he walked in on and tim's confession it was unlikely that was true.

jack would admit he'd thought of his boy every once in a while. janet had as well. when they'd sold their house and liquidated their real estate to travel more she'd stopped and stared at an old photo of tim as a toddler when she picked up an old photo album. but janet had her pride and jack did as well. so they never called. never reached out. never even googled images of their grandchild when they'd heard she'd been born (a girl! janet had always wanted a girl so even from the beginning she'd looked at tim with disappointment).

when jack looks at his wayward child again he doesn't feel nostalgic or sentimental...he feels...aroused. warm and hot blooded like thick alcohol is swirling in his gut.

he and janet haven't been intimate in years and with the infidelity clause in their prenup neither of them would even dare risk an affair.

and tim...his sweet tim....has blossomed so beautiful. his wide hips, his obscene milky tits held up by a lacy bra, a soft stomach with extra padding around his womb where he'd presumably carried a few wayne whelps. the promising glisten of his red cunt between his spread legs. he's not even wearing any underwear allowing jack to get a full view of those puffy cunt lips and pretty pussy.

jack can't deny the tightness of his pants as he looks at his gorgeous little son that's not so little anymore. knowing he helped create this little whore lying on their back with their legs spread is all kinds of arousing.

tim is offering to let jack fuck him first over all the others so long as he keeps quiet about what he saw. jack agrees. readily.

he sqeezes every part of tim he can get his hands on. he gropes his tits, shoves a few fingers between those plush lips and watches as the beautiful mouth sucks them down to the knuckle, he fucks so hard into that cunt that practically sucks him in and rolls his eyes so far back he almost passes out when he cums and his cock gets milked so sweetly by a miraculously tight pussy even though jack last counted three grandbabies being born from his son.

god. his son truly is a little miracle. jack waits until his balls replenish with more seed, collapsing back onto a chair and watching as his son is through fucked and creampied by his father in law and brother in law. they both take their turns and jack readies himself again to fuck into his son's pussy, determined to be the one to get him pregnant. to have a child and a grandchild wrapped into one and nurtured inside his son's sweet womb. the thought of getting his son pregnant is so erotic the thought alone will be enough to carry jack through the rest of his sham marriage.

getting to fuck his son is just a bonus. jack would have agreed to keep his mouth shut in exchange for being able to watch but getting to impregnate his son and walk around with the knowledge the baby growing in his son's belly was his?

euphoric.

[ficreadergirl]

Dangerous Inquiries (ch.6)

When you woke up you noticed the sun already up. You checked your phone. 4:00am. Your first class started at 7am. You remembered your professors gave you this week to pull yourself together but you didn't wanna spend more time in your quiet house. You decided to make coffee. You made coffee and started eating breakfast. When you finished eating breakfast you went into the bathroom to freshen up and get dressed in clothes suitable for going to school. As soon as you were done fixing up you head downstairs. Your door knocked. You looked at the peephole and saw Kory. You pulled the door open. She was carrying a bag full of books, flowers and other things. "I brought your stuff!" she smiled. "Thank you!" you hugged her tightly. "Why are you wearing these?" she asked. "I'm going to the class." you answered. "Are you sure?" she asked concerned. "Yeah. I'll be okay." She nodded and smiled. "Okay. Then I'm driving you there." "Thanks." you grabbed your bag and headed to the car. While she was driving you asked "Do you know about Jason Todd?". She looked at you confused "Of course. He's Dick's brother. Bruce's other kid. What happened him?" You explained everything. You told her what had happened. She remained silent during the whole story. After you finished talking, Kory said "You should stay away from him Y/n." "Why?" you asked. Kory hesitated for some seconds. She seemed reluctant in telling you something. "He's trouble." she said eventually. "Well. It didn't surprise me." you shrugged. Kory chuckled slightly. You arrived to the collage in time. "Thanks for the drive." "Anytime sweetheart." she said with a smile. After 2 hours of class you wanted to go to library. Library wasn't crowded. You quickly sat on one of the tables. You turned on your computer. Started to search for Jason Todd. You didn't find anything except a correction Jason T. WAYNE. There weren't any photos of Mr.Todd with other people. You started checking social media. He didn't have any account. He didn't seem to be as active as his brother. You sighed disappointed. You checked some old news about your dad. He was really famous for many things. He was really successful antiquist in Gotham. People loved him. A lot. He was always a problem solver for everyone he met. Even he was busy most of the time and always working. So how did someone like that could get murdered? You were really upset. You felt horrible. Your hands were trembling with anger. You felt like crying. You needed someone to talk to. Someone who understands your pain. Dick was the first name you thought. He also lost his parents when he was little child. He could give you guidance on how to get over this pain. While you were thinking about Dick you also remembered Jason was adopted by Bruce too. Why would he ask questions about your father's murder? His father was also murdered? You couldn't stop thinking about it. It was making you feel numb. You were looking your father's pictures and trying to not to cry. Then you went back to your Jason Todd search. Still nothing. He didn't seem to exist except being adopted by Bruce Wayne. Your head was pounding with questions. You closed the lid of the laptop. You leaned your forehead on the surface of the table. You closed your eyes tight. You felt dizzy. You were exhausted. Your stomach growled loudly. You picked up your bag filled with books and stood up. You started walking towards the exit. Suddenly you stopped. You felt someone watching you. You looked behind you to see the person. You saw white haired woman with eyepatch. She was sitting at a table near the window and was staring at you intently. You felt like she was analyzing you. You tried to remember if you knew her. But you couldn't. You didn't know her. She just watched you from afar. You felt uneasy. Her presence scared you. Without knowing why. You suddenly turned around and walked outside without paying attention to the woman.

Read more

[woods2006gal]

Chapter 04 - I'm Not A Girl, Not Yet A Woman

Eight year old Bruce Wayne sits on the swing set. It was a cold and rainy day in Gotham. The weather matched his mood perfectly. He had retreated outside to escape the sad and pitying looks from the adults within Wayne Manor. He looks up upon hearing the soft footsteps. Zoey York climbs onto the empty swing beside him. He had heard about Zoey not talking since the car accident that killed her parents. A silence settles over them.

“Do…do you get to stay here,” Zoey softly questions. Her voice was raspy.

Bruce stares at her. “I thought you couldn’t talk any more.”

Zoey lets out an annoyed breath. “I can talk. I just choose not to.”

“Why?”

Zoey shrugs. “So people leave me alone.”

“Everyone thinks you’re a weirdo,” Bruce tells her. Zoey sighs and jumps down from the swing. She walks away, leaving Bruce alone on the swing set.

The holidays had been relatively normal for the Kent household. Zoey sighs as she walks down the Kent driveway. She had zero desire to do the project that had been assigned in her business class that morning. The project was the research a well known corporation. Companies were randomly assigned. Zoey had been annoyed to be assigned Wayne Enterprises. The last thing she wanted to do was spend anytime researching Wayne Enterprises.

“Sweetheart, is everything okay,” Martha questions when Zoey walks into the house.

“Zoey’s upset that she didn’t get CRC to research in business class,” Clark answers.

Zoey shoots him an annoyed look. “I’m not upset that I didn’t get CRC. I just don’t like the company I got and would rather have a different one. But Mr. Wilson wouldn’t let me switch.”

“Zoey, I’m sure you’ll do a fine job with the company you were assigned,” Martha comforts. She holds up a thick black envelope. “This arrived for you today.”

Zoey takes the envelope. Her name and the address were written in a silver cursive script. She turns over the envelope and sighs seeing the return address was somewhere in Gotham. She had a good idea what this particular envelope contained. Reluctantly, Zoey opens the envelope and her guess is confirmed.

Zoey Stella Carmichael York

is cordially invited to the 50th Annual Wayne Foundation Gala

February 16, 2002

Wayne Manor

Gotham, New Jersey

Please respond no later than January 29, 2002

Zoey turns over the invitation and finds an unfamiliar scrawl in pencil. I’d like for you to come - B

Clark grins. “You should go, Zoey. Maybe you can meet Bruce Wayne and interview him for your paper.”

Zoey shoots Clark an annoyed look. “I highly doubt Bruce would help me.” She bites her lip before turning to Martha. “Can I go?”

Martha sighs. The last thing she wanted to do was disappoint her goddaughter. “Zoey, we can’t afford for you to go to Gotham for a weekend.”

Zoey shifts. “What…what if I talked with Uncle Max and he took care of everything?”

“Jonathan and I would have to talk about it, but I don’t see why not,” Martha answers. Zoey brightly smiles and runs up the stairs.

“Do think Dad is going to agree,” Clark questions.

“I hope so,” Martha tells her son.

~*~

Zoey wrinkles her nose as she looks in the mirror. The tea length, strapless black dress wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. “Are you sure that I can’t wear the lace one,” she questions, motioning to dress she had picked out.

“This is one is boring,” Max points out, coming to stand behind her. Max Carmichael was a tall and slender man, with short sandy brown hair. He places his hands on Zoey’s shoulders. “It’s perfect for the Gala. Don’t worry, we’ll get the other one too. So, are you going to tell me why Bruce invited you? Last time I checked neither of you liked each other.”

Zoey shrugs. “No idea.”

Zoey looks around to make sure no one was paying any attention to the catering truck. Max always had an open bar at the annual Carmichael Fourth of July party. She didn’t really enjoy the party. She hadn’t since her parents died. Too many people kept comparing her to her parents or saying how proud they would be of her. She hated it. Zoey takes another glance around her before grabbing a bottle of Jim Beam out of the cardboard box. She quickly makes her way into the woods.

She knew the path to the original Carmichael family home like that back of her hand. It was an old cabin that had been built not long after her great-great-great grandfather, Elijah Carmichael, had started to garner some success with the first Rosewood hotel in Star City. Zoey learned about the cabin from her mother. Shannon had been the one to show Zoey where it was.

Zoey twists open the bottle and takes a swig of the amber liquid. The whiskey stung as it made its way down. She coughs. She raises the bottle of take another swig. A twig snaps. Zoey turns to find Bruce Wayne. She hadn’t been aware that he had been following her.

Zoey couldn’t stand Bruce. Every year Max invited Bruce to the party. And every year, Bruce would decline the innovation. Until this year for some reason. Max had been thrilled. Zoey had been dismayed. Max had purposely sat Zoey and Bruce next to each other. She didn’t know why but Max had made it his mission to play matchmaker between Zoey and Bruce.

“Leave me alone,” Zoey tells him.

Bruce ignores her, moving closer. The only reason he was at the party was to make Alfred stop nagging him. ‘It is up to you to keep the relationship between the Waynes and Carmichaels alive. The relationship goes back one hundred and fifty years, Master Wayne,’ the butler would constantly remind him. Bruce, on the other hand, didn’t care. He thought Max was too pushy at times. And Zoey…well, he still thought she was the over achieving weirdo who refused to speak to anyone for two years. Well, except for the one time at his parents’ funeral.

“Look who’s actually talking now,” Bruce says, grabbing the bottle out of her hand. “And drinking.”

Zoey glares. She reaches for the bottle, but he holds it out of her reach. “Give it back.” He takes a swig before handing her the bottle. She grabs it and continues towards the cabin. Bruce follows her. He was curious to know where she was going.

Zoey picks up her pace. She didn’t want him to know where she was going. Her foot catches on a tree branch. She starts to fall forward. Bruce quickly catches up to her. He grabs her arm and yanks her against his chest. She turns to face him, ready to tell him off. He doesn’t miss the fact that her breasts are pressed against him. The short sundress she was wearing hugged in the right ways. She definitely wasn’t built like the girls he was used to.

Thunder erupts. Zoey moves back from him. She didn’t want to let him know that she had actually enjoyed being pressed against him. That she had noticed how firm yet soft he felt. Rain pours down on them. Zoey grabs his hand. “Come on,” she yells, then takes off in the direction of the cabin.

Bruce stands there for a moment before following her. By the time they reach the cabin, they’re both soaked. Zoey opens the door and they step in. He looks around the cabin. While it had a rustic feel, the cabin was modern in furniture. A plaid couch was against one wall. Across from it was the fireplace. Zoey sets the bottle of Jim Beam on a coffee table before making her way to the fireplace.

“How long do you think it’ll take before someone notices we’re gone,” Bruce questions, sitting down on the couch.

“It’ll take Uncle Max until tomorrow afternoon,” Zoey answers. She grabs the matches off the fireplace mantle and kneels. Bruce watches as she strikes a match and carefully lights the fireplace. She had clearly intended to come out here alone. There was a small cooler in the corner along with a backpack. “How long do you think it’ll take Alfred?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Bruce tells her. “That’s if I don’t show up for breakfast.” Zoey sits down on the couch and takes a swig of the bourbon. She holds out the bottle to him. He grabs it and takes a swig. “Alfred is having dinner with an old friend.”

Zoey shifts. “Well, uh, I guess we are hiding out here until the rain lets up.”

A silence settles over them, each wonder how they were gonna pass time.

Zoey looks out the window as the SUV drives through Gotham. It was a far cry from Smallville. And it wasn’t anything like Star City. Gotham was full of gleaming art deco buildings and glass skyscrapers. The tallest building in the city was the Wayne Enterprises building. It stood in the center of the financial district. The only symbol on the building was a giant ‘W’ at the top. It was a reminder to the citizens of Gotham of which family had built the city. Through to others it was seen as a reminder that the upper echelons of Gotham society had destroyed the city. One didn’t have to go far from the gleaming financial district to see the reality for many of Gotham’s citizens. Crime, homelessness, drugs. 

“The Wayne Foundation has dedicated itself to restoring the city of Gotham to its once famous glory,” Max says, reading the invitation of the annual Wayne Foundation gala. They were dressed in formal attire. Max in a tailor suit with his sandy brown hair slicked back. Zoey wore the strapless, black tea dress she and Max had picked out. Her hair was pulled into a slick ponytail, a light layer of makeup accented her natural features, and a simple diamond necklace.

Zoey had never been to a gala before. “Does that mean they’re going to start going after the people who actually caused the problems? Such as corporations, like Wayne Enterprises, not paying enough in taxes.”

Max shoots her an unamused look. “I see someone has been watching the opinion news shows today. And don’t let anyone hear you say anything like that.”

"Why do you want me and Bruce to be together so badly?”

“Because the Waynes and Carmichaels go back hundred and fifty years. We can’t let it fall apart now.”

Zoey leans back on the couch, laughing. The bottle of Jim Beam was nearly empty. They could still hear the rain beating against the roof of the cabin. Bruce sits down next to her, annoyed that she had him perform the chicken dance. “Your turn,” he says. “Truth or dare?”

The two teens had started to play the game in order to pass the time. “Dare,” Zoey answers.

Bruce smirks. “I dare you to kiss me.” He knew that there was no way she would do it. She was too shy.

Zoey shifts on the couch to face him. She wanted to wipe that smirk off his face. She leans forward and presses her lips against his. She didn’t care that it was her first kiss. She just wanted to prove that she didn’t back down from any challenge. She starts to pull back, ready to taunt him.

Bruce places a hand on the back of her head. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t want the kiss to end. He actually enjoyed her company, though that was something he wouldn’t never admit to anyone. Keeping his lips pressed against hers, he gently pushes her back onto the couch. Zoey shifts, trying to get comfortable. Her knee brushes his hip causing her dress to ride up, exposing the pale skin of her thigh. 

Bruce pulls back and looks down at her. “Is this okay,” he questions.

“Yes,” Zoey breathlessly answers. Her heart was racing. He leans down, pressing his lips against hers once more. His hand runs over her thigh, pushing the bottom of her dress up further. She rest her hands on his biceps. His hand brushes over the white lace panties she was wearing. Her breath hitches. 

Bruce trails his lips across her cheek. His hand continues brushing against her. “Zoey—”

“Don’t stop,” Zoey interrupts. She knew exactly where this was headed. She didn’t know if was the bourbon or something else, but she wanted to experience what she had read in the various romance novels she enjoyed. She wanted to feel desired.

Bruce suddenly sits up. Part of him wanted to continue. He was ready. She was obviously ready and willing. Yet, there was a part of him that didn’t feel right about it. “We can’t do this,” he mutters, standing up. He adjusts his pants, hoping to relieve some of the tension he was feeling.

Zoey blinks. She sits up, shoving her dress back down. “Oh.” She looks around the cabin; trying to find something to distract her from the rejection she was feeling.

“Don’t get me wrong. I want to. It just…it doesn’t feel right.”

Zoey looks at him. She glances at the empty Jim Beam bottle. She stands up and walks over to him. She wraps her arms around his neck. “Are you trying to be a knight in shining armor,” she amusedly asks. 

Bruce pulls her close; hands settling on her waist. “Like I said, it just doesn’t feel right. At least right now.”

Zoey looks up at him. “Right now? Are you saying you don’t find me weird anymore?”

“Maybe.”

Zoey sighs. The evening so far had been a wash. She hadn’t seen Bruce since she and Max had arrived at the Wayne Foundation Gala which was taking place at the Gotham Museum of Arts. She was confused. Bruce had been the one who invited her yet he wasn’t at the gala. She sits down on bench and looks up at the painting of a garden filled with roses and lillies. She’s so lost in her thoughts that she doesn’t notice someone sit down next to her. A hand lightly brushes hers and she jumps.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Bruce apologizes. 

It takes Zoey a moment to realize that he’s wearing jeans and a sweater. He clearly no intention going to the gala. “Why exactly did you invite me?”

“I wanted to see you.”

Zoey lightly smiles. “You could’ve just asked.”

Bruce shrugs. His thumb brushes the back of her hand. “This was less suspicious.” 

“Well, you did make Uncle Max very happy. I haven’t seen him this happy in years.”

“And what about you?”

“Happy. Confused. Annoyed.”

Bruce raises an eyebrow. “Annoyed?”

“I’ve had to spend the past couple of hours listening to people tell how far I’ve come and that parents would be extremely proud of me. It gets very old very fast,” Zoey tells him, then stands up. She starts to walk away from him, but he grabs her wrist. 

“I know,” Bruce tells her. He closes the gap between them. She could feel his breath on her face. She presses her lips against his. The kiss is slow and tentative. He pulls back. “Do you want to get out here?”

“I would love to get out of here,” Zoey whispers.

~*~

Zoey yawns and stretches her arms out. The sun was shining in through the window. The manicure lawns of Wayne Manor were nothing like the fields of the Kent farm. It’s at that moment that Zoey feels the weight on her waist; the heat pressed against her back. After sneaking out of the gala, the two teens had been driven back to Wayne Manor by Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce's guardian and trusted butler. They had spent the night eating pizza and catching up on what had occurred in their lives since last summer. She made the decision not to mention what happened at homecoming.

Zoey rolls over and finds Bruce staring at her. He had given her an old t-shirt that stopped just above her knees. He had chosen to sleep in a pair of boxers. She remembered him climbing into the bed sometime during the night. “Were you watching me sleep,” she amusedly asks voice husky with sleep.

Bruce remains silent. He had spent months trying to figure out what caused him to develop a sudden attraction to Zoey. He had dated a couple of girls at his school, hoping that it would help him figure things out. It didn’t. He leans over and softly kisses her. She pulls him close. Her hands on his bare skin felt electrifying. The kiss deepens. His hands run over her legs. She rolls onto her back, pulling him with her. Bruce pulls back. He looks down at her. “We need to stop,” he softly says; it was the last thing he wanted to do.

Zoey bites her lip. “What if I don’t want to,” she whispers.

“Are you sure?”

Zoey leans up and pulls him another kiss. Hands run over each other, exploring. Clothes wind up on the floor. She lets out a gasp when he swiftly enters her. She blinks back the tears. She heard that it would hurt the first time. His movements are fast and quick. He lets out a groan and falls onto her. Bruce lays there for a moment, then pulls out and lays on the bed next to her. A silence falls over them. Each of them lost in their own thoughts.

Zoey clears her throat and sits up. She ignores the stinging pain shooting through her. “I, um, I need to get back to the hotel before Uncle Max sends out a search party.”

“I’ll get cleaned up,” Bruce tells her. Zoey grabs his boxers off the floor and silently hands them to him.

~*~ Oliver lets out a groan. He had no idea who would even think about calling him so early on a Sunday morning. He glances over his shoulder and finds Tess still asleep. He sits up and runs a hand over his face before grabbing the cell phone. “Yeah,” he tiredly greets.

“I didn’t mean to wake you, Ollie,” Zoey says. “I just…I didn’t know who else to call.”

Oliver straightens up. “Zo, is everything okay? Are you okay?”

“I don’t know where Uncle Max is. His room is empty. But all his stuff is still here. I-I-I don’t know where he is. I don’t know how I’m supposed to get home, Ollie. I have this big test coming up in my environmental science class.”

He frowns. “Max told me that you both were invited to Gotham for the Wayne Gala.”

“Yes. And he’s not here. He’s missing. Oh my god, what if he was kidnapped or murdered or-or-or worse.”

“Zo, take a deep breath,” Oliver tells her, standing up. He pays no attention to the stirring redhead in the bed. “I’ll take my jet and come pick you up. Everything will be okay.”

“No, it won’t,” Zoey sobs. “Uncle Max might be dead or something. And I screwed up. Big time.”

“Tell me what happened, and we’ll fix it. Everything will be okay.”

“I-I-I had sex with Bruce. We-we-we didn’t use—”

“Zoey, when did this happen,” Oliver interrupts.

“This morning,” Zoey softly answers.

“I’ll take care of this, Zo. Don’t worry about it. Call whoever you need to and tell them the plane broke. That you’ll be home tomorrow. Okay.”

“Okay,” Zoey softly says. Oliver hangs up the phone and grabs his jeans off the floor.

~*~

It’s almost midnight when a knock comes on the hotel suite door. Zoey jumps up off the couch and runs over to her. Her heart had been racing all day. She hadn’t managed to get ahold of Max all day. The only bright side of the day had been that Jonathan and Martha believed her when she told them the plane was broken. She looks through the peephole and lets out a relieved breath upon seeing Oliver.

Zoey yanks open the door and launches herself at him. Oliver’s taken back but quickly rights himself. “It’s okay, Zo,” he tells her. He rubs a hand down her back. “Everything will be fine.” He guides her into the suite and softly closes the door behind them. Oliver walks over to the mini fridge and grabs a bottle of water. He pulls out a small vanilla envelope as he walks back over to her. He holds it and the bottle of water out to her. “Take this. It’s more effective the earlier you take it.”

“What is it,” Zoey asks, taking it from him. She opens it to find a white pill in it.

“Morning after pill,” Oliver says. “You’re going to take it. Then in a month, I’m going to visit you in Smallville, and we’re going to make sure it worked.”

Zoey puts the pill in her mouth and takes a huge gulp of water. “What happens if it doesn’t work,” she quietly questions.

“We’ll cross that bridge if we have to,” Oliver replies. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Did Bruce force—”

“No,” Zoey interrupts. She shakes her head. “No. No. Bruce didn’t force me or anything. I wanted to. I really wanted to. It’s just…it was really…disappointing.”

Oliver snorts. He pushes her towards the bedroom. “It was your first time. Of course, it was disappointing.”

Zoey spins around in his grasp. “I bet your first time wasn’t disappointing.”

“I barely remember my first time, Zo. And that means it wasn’t that good.” He brushes her hair over her shoulder. “You’re fifteen. You have plenty of time to have sex that’s not disappointing.”

The door to the suite opens, and they turn to see Max enter, wearing a pair of oversized floral board shorts and an equally oversized t-shirt with Caesar’s logo on it. “Uncle Max, you’re not dead,” Zoey exclaims, running over to him. She tightly embraces him.

Max hugs her back, frowning. “Why would think that I’m dead?” It’s at that moment that he notices Oliver standing in the suite. “What are you doing here, Oliver?”

“I called him,” Zoey answers. “You weren’t here. And I thought you were kidnapped or murdered or worse—”

“What’s worse than being murdered,” Max interrupts.

“Where have you been, Max,” Oliver questions.

Max shifts. He runs a hand across the back of his neck. “I, uh, I woke up in a hotel in Atlantic City. Tied to a bed. Naked.”

Oliver raises an eyebrow. “That explains your clothes.”

“Are you okay,” Zoey asks, still worried.

Max shrugs. “I’m fine. Pride hurts. But I’m fine, Zoey.”

Zoey turns to Oliver. “We should call the police.”

“Zoey, I’m fine,” Max snaps. He rubs his face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s been a long day. And I just want to sleep.”

Silence falls over them as Max walks into his room and closes the door. “Ollie,” Zoey softly begins. He looks at her and finds a concerned look on her face. “Can you…do you think you can talk to Uncle Max? Make sure that he’s okay?”

Oliver lightly smiles at her. “Of course,” he tells her. He guides her towards her room. “You need to get some sleep, Zo. We have an early flight in the morning to get you home.”

Zoey hugs him. “Thank you, Ollie.”

Oliver presses a soft kiss to the top of her head. “It’s no problem, Zo.”

I’m not a girl Not yet a woman All I need is time, a moment that is mine While I’m in between I’m not a girl

[ellienettie]

Timothy Drake-Wayne

There were a few things that Janet Drake taught Tim Drake as a child. It was her way of caring, in a way. She's taught him how to control and hold a company, how to manipulate people into doing your bidding, how to intimidate them into letting you do what you want to do. In a strange, slightly cold way, it was her way of showing she cared. It was her showing her expectations of him controlling the company and making it rise, continuing her legacy and letting Drake Industries rise. 

It was her way of saying she loved him enough to let him keep everything she's built for herself. Tim has had front row view to how her words can affect a person, how the way she holds herself puts a certain image and expectation into someone's view, and Janet rises above those expectations every time. Her intimidating stare was something that everyone remembers when her name comes to mind, the way she holds herself up. It was like an empress commanding her soldiers to bow to her feet, and it was something Timothy Drake has learned and mastered under her guidance and graceful hand.

Timothy Drake's childhood memories with his parents were more lessons than it was heartwarming memories, so could they really be called parents? Or were they more teachers than they were parental figures? None the less, he still loved them, still cried for them, mourned for them on their death beds. He still carries Janet's lessons with him as a way of keeping her legacy alive, to keep the way Tim knows she loved him alive. 

She's helped set an image for him, and Tim doesn't disappoint said image despite the change in his last name. He was a Drake first before he was a Wayne, and he'd rather be damned in hell eternal than to let the world forget that fact. Her lessons are what kept him alive, afloat, valid in all the circles he settles himself in. Some people can never forget that he was his mother's son more than he was his father's son, like Lex Luthor who faces full heat of Tim's version of Janet's glare, but under the name and persona of Timothy Wayne, people assume he's more like his father. Too many people do, in Tim's humble opinion.

Tim's seated on the glass table of his office right in front of a stupid cowardly man named *Bradley Ramirez* with his foot on his thigh. He pushes the heel of his left foot harder on to Brad's thigh and slightly revels in the way the man's breath hitches. 

"Have you had your fun carousing around with the company's budget, Brad?" Tim asks in a mimic of his mother's silken voice. She's used it before on her husband when he came home drunk without her permission. Tim finds it amusing that the man turned the same shade of pale as his father did. He raises a brow at the silent man in front of him. "Well?"

"S-sir Wayne--"

"Please, Mr. Ramirez. You know very well that my dad is Mr. Wayne. Call me Mr. Drake." His right foot swings idly in front of Brad Ramirez while his right hand clamped on to Brad's shoulder. "Mr.- Mr. Drake, sir. I just- i-it was extra budget, so I figured that I may as well-" He yelps as Tim squeezes his shoulder harder. Tim lets go of his shoulder to push it with his right food, and Brad's breath shudders.

"...Who gave you permission to?"

"p-pardon, sir?"

"Who gave you permission to use money you didn't make on yourself? I certainly didn't. Who did?" Tim places his hands on the table beside him and leans on his palms. "It couldn't have been Bruce too. I would know if he did!" Tim smiles at the man. It was exactly like how Robin the first would smile at the goons before tackling them. "It certainly wasn't Samantha from budgeting, she would insist on using excess funds on other projects! Tell me, Bradley, who told you to gather the audacity to misuse funds given to you? I'm so curious!"

His mother would be proud of him for how he's talking to his employee, after being immensely disappointed in him for allowing such a man to be responsible for something he couldn't handle. "According to the files on my desk, Sir Ramirez, You've managed to gather excess funds by cutting employee's pay? To do what? To cut costs that we can afford?"

"M-Mr. Drake, sir, you're stepping on my shoulder too hard-" Tim's eye twitches before he straightens his back and crosses his legs. He ignores the jolt that Bradley makes on the excess pressure on his thigh. "I'm sorry, it won't happen again. I'll use the budget wisely next time, I'm sorry sir Drake."

"Of course you won't, Bradley. You wanna know why?" Bradley visibly gulps in front of him. "B-because I'm demoted?" Tim smiles like a shark, and the glint in his eyes make Bradley wish that he was stuck in a shark cage instead. Tim chuckles a bit before sighing, still smiling.

"No, you're very funny, Mr. Ramirez. You're fired."

[i-cant-sing]

I feel like superbat kid would be scared of needles,since their a clone experiment. So the boys try to distract them whenever they need to get shots.

Dads feeling so guilty probably spoils the baby with toys and desserts.

Oh yeah definitely.

The Batfam and the Superfam are all well aware of your phobia of needles, but time for vaccination has come and they cant put it off any further. So, Bruce calls Clark over to the Wayne manor and they're all down in the batcave, discussing how to proceed. Finally, Jason is the one who brings you down to the cave, and he's distracting you by telling you a story about some weird crossover between a fairytale and Ninja turtles, but you're distracted so its working.

He hands you over to Clark, and you giggle when he kisses your cheeks and tells you how much he missed you. You're listening to him talk as he goes and sits on a chair, settling you on his lap. That's when you look around and see everybody is there, and you're oblivious to why they're staring at you with worry but you wave to them happily.

The trick was to move fast and keep you distracted. Alfred was the one with the needle, and Clark was going to hold you since he was the strongest, and the batboys were going to distract you.

Bruce begins talking to you, blocking your field of Alfred prepping the needle, but you sense something is wrong and try to look at Alfred. Dick and Tim immediately jump up and start dangling your toys in front of you, but their voices held uneasiness and no matter how much they tried to block Alfred, you had X-ray vision and thats when you saw the needle.

You began thrashing violently in Clarks arms, who tried to pacify you but you weren't listening to a damn thing. Bruce tried to hold your arms still but you were strong, and quickly yanked your hands away, knocking Damian's face in the process.

You began wailing when Alfred approached you, telling them to hold your arm still. Clark grabbed your arm with one hand and pinned it to your side, ears wincing as your sobbing got louder when Alfred rubbed your arm with an alcohol swab. No matter how much they tried to comfort you, you were inconsolable. But Bruce was noticing your breathing getting faster and your screams get louder, and when your eyes began to get red, he quickly pushed Alfred out of the way, just in time for laser to shoot out of your eyes. Clark quickly covered your eyes with his hand and yelled at them to hurry up.

Alfred wiped the sweat off his forehead and showed him the empty needle. "All done."

Clark quickly placed your head in his neck and rubbed your back, cooing into ear about how you're his brave girl and how proud he is of you, but you're still crying violently, hyperventilating. Bruce pulled you from Clark, and told you to follow his breathing, but you were like a scared animal, eyes wild and frantic. You ended up passing out in his arms and the whole family just looked at each other with disappointment.

The family then had to spend the rest of the month building up your trust again. It pained them to see how you'd flinch away from their touches or begin to shake when they placed you in their laps. You would even hide from Alfred, but they all were patient and after several cuddles and ice creams and a lot of other treats, you finally began to trust them again.

But you were still scared to go the batcave and you didn't like it when they would all be together in the same room with you.

[moonlit-imagines]

warnings:

a/n: just so everyone knows, zack snyder claims the joker-vandalized robin suit that bruce has in BvS is dick’s. idrk why he felt the need to say that but im going along w it for the sake of “canon”

not requested

“It’ll be just like before, y/n. What do you think?” Your father asked you the big question, playing the role of recruiter once more. You stared at him with the pokerface you’d learned from him as a child and tried to think of a response, which ended up being laughter.

“I think you’re getting desperate, dad.” You wiped your tears of “joy” from your eyes and shook your head at his disappointed look. “I’m not gonna be Dick’s replacement and you’re going to have to learn at one point or another that if you love someone, you don’t rope them into your dangerous business.” You explained to him with a lingering smile, baffled by his audacity.

“I thought you might miss it. Miss him. It would have been a way to honor him.” Bruce sighed, attempting to get you to see it his way, but you weren’t so gullible. You knew he was just lonely but would rather put on a bat suit than make real friends.

“I left that life for a reason, and Dick would have been proud of me for that.” You snapped at him, which just prompted him to give up and walk away, but you opted for another string of last words. “You’re never going to be at peace if you continue to let Bruce Wayne be the mask, dad. Think about it.”

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