#come on tim. i’m in your walls

[mishtershpock]

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[noisilyscreechingsong]

Dp x Dc short idea

Jason is Danny’s dad

Warning: Language

Jason had just returned to the family publicly about two weeks ago. It hadn’t even been that long for him to settle before something happened. The press weren’t even off his ass and he has Alfred requesting he return home for an urgent matter immediately, which is butler speak for get your ass here right now!

The family was happy but adjusting to everything. They had mandatory family dinners at least twice a month and voluntarily got together more frequently, mostly just the siblings, but every once in a while Bruce would sneak in for a movie in the family room.

Alfred was pleased with the progress the family has made over the course of many years. It finally felt like everything was coming together and maybe settling down. He knew he thought that too soon when he answered the buzzer at the front gate. They weren’t expecting any visitors and looking at the video feed it was a young woman with hands on her hips glaring back at the camera. There were two large bags with her and surprisingly enough a young child playing in the grass just a short distance behind her.

“Wayne Residence, Alfred Pennyworth speaking, how may I assist you, ma’am?”

“Lettin’ me in for starters,” she says back with venom on her tongue.

“My apologies, but you do not have an appointment.”

She snorts, “Nah, but ya see, I saw that bastard on the news and thought I’d drop off what he gave me.”

To get her point across, she turns and looks back at the little boy not paying her any attention.

“Danny!” She snaps and he jerks his head to look at, who Alfred is assuming is, his mother. “Come here.”

He hops up at his own pace and dusts off the grass on his knees before trotting over. She leans down to angle the young boy away from the camera and pushing back his hair.

He couldn’t see it well before by the way the boy was positioned before, but Alfred could clearly see a prominent patch of white hair on the left lower section by his neck. Just like the white batch on Jason.

“You gonna let us in now?” She asks rudely.

Alfred has already determined he did not like this woman. He still buzzes them in. He contacts Jason immediately followed closely with Bruce.

Alfred then helps the two carry in the bags, while subtly checking for any weapons or explosives. Instead he finds things meant for a child.

He really didn’t like this woman.

Bruce is the first one to arrive down the stairs, pausing towards the bottom. He glances at Alfred and can see the displeasure in the butler’s eyes.

“Hello, ma’am. I’m Bruce Wayne, nice to meet you.”

“Fuckin’ everyone knows who you are, Brucie Wayne,” she huffs with a roll of her eyes.

Bruce glances down at the very young child who is hearing the foul language. He couldn’t be more than five, and completely oblivious as the little boy runs a hand along the wall and looks around at everything. He particularly keeps going back to the shiny chandelier above their heads.

“Who might you be?” He asks the woman, coming back to her as she almost touches the vase on the entry table. She draws her hand back to fold her arms across her chest.

“Grace.”

The name seems ironic compared to her behavior.

“And how can I help you, Miss Grace?”

“Your thought-to-be-dead son left something of his. I’m here to return it.”

It took no detective to determine she was talking about the boy currently using the door frame to the sitting room as leverage to rock back and forth, holding on with his tiny hands. Bruce could see the splash of white among the dark hair from this angle.

Bruce hums.

“Is that so?”

“I’ve already contacted Master Jason. He should be arriving soon. Shall I prepare some refreshments in the drawing room?” Alfred informs.

“Thank you, Alfred. Right this way,” he says to Grace, directing her toward the left while pulling out his phone to ask Tim to prepare the proper equipment downstairs.

“Danny!” The woman calls with impatience. She glares at the little boy who calmly turns to look at her, then skips behind them.

Grace huffs but doesn’t say anything else as they enter the room. She sits herself in the middle of the love seat and Bruce takes one of the chairs across from her. The boy, Danny, explores the room thoroughly, walking around without pattern and investigating every nook and cabinet to keep himself entertained. Very curious little child.

Bruce tries to engage her in conversation to dig up more information, but she firmly wanted to wait for Jason before divulging anything. He did however find out that Danny is four and needs to be enrolled in kindergarten next turn. Grace works night shift but wouldn’t say where.

Alfred came with three waters, one in a smaller plastic cup for Danny, and a plate of crackers and cut up fruit.

Grace eyes the butler with a raised brow. However, the first words Danny has spoken in their presence is a cute, “Thank you, mister,” before munching on a cracker and sipping from his cup. His curious eyes flick over the fruit and wanders over to his mother who picks at a rip in her jeans. He taps her knee and she sighs.

“What is it?”

“What’s that?”

Danny points to the fruit.

“What’s what?”

He creeps forward to point directly at the blackberries mixed in with the blueberries and strawberries.

“Blackberry,” she answers shortly.

“What’s it taste like?”

“Why don’t you try it and find out?”

He must have approved of that suggestion and reaches in to clumsily wrap a tiny hand around one of the dark berries. He flips it over in his hand for a minute, observing it at all angles, feeling the texture of the little bumps, before shoving it in his mouth. Danny leans his body over the coffee table to drag the bowl closer and rummage through it for more goodies.

Really looking at him, Bruce could see Jason’s freckles and the few other similarities like his square jaw and lip shape. He hasn’t seen it yet but Bruce bets Danny has the same crooked grin as his son.

He has the woman’s pale complexion and nose shape. His hair was straight like hers instead of Jason’s curls, but Danny took his dark coloring compared to her light brunette.

The boy was an adorable mix of both his son and this woman. He almost felt the test was unnecessary, but he didn’t stop Alfred from replacing the plastic cup and take it back to the kitchen where he knew it would be handed off to Tim.

Thankfully it was a day where there weren’t any meetings for either of them to attend.

Surprisingly, it isn’t Jason that enters the room first, it’s Damian coming home from school. The fourteen year old, almost fifteen, holds a leash in one hand with Titus standing patiently next to him, ready for his after school walk.

“Father, I heard we have guests.”

The teen stops in the doorway and Danny turns with interest until he spots the animal, then his eyes bug with excitement.

“Mommy, doggie,” he whisper shouts.

She just hums in affirmative, looking the new arrival up and down.

Danny grabs a blackberry from the bowl and trots over to Damian. He holds out the piece of fruit.

“This is a blackberry,” he states proudly.

Damian blinks down at the small child. Titus tilts his head, his nose working hard.

“I’m aware.”

“You can have it, if you let me pet your doggie,” he negotiates like he needed to give something in order to receive permission.

Damian looks up to his father for answers.

“Jason will be here soon,” is what he gets instead, his father’s lips twitch.

Damian looks back down in sudden realization when he sees the similarities between the man and this boy. He sighs tiredly.

“Pennyworth. A wet washcloth if you please.”

“Right away, Master Damian.”

“Next time, you only need to ask to pet Titus, you do not need to give me anything in return,” he tells the child.

Danny looks down at the berry sitting in his stained hands.

“So you don’t want it?”

“…Maybe later.”

“Okay!”

Danny skips back to carefully set the berry off the side on the tray, as if to save it for Damian for later like he said. He jogs the short distance back to them.

“Can I pet your doggie now, please?”

Damian takes the washcloth Alfred hands him with a nod and crouches down to get level with the boy.

“We must wipe our hands first. We don’t want anything sticky in his fur,” he explains as he holds out the washcloth for Danny’s hands.

The four year old looks down at the stains to see what he means and then places his hands on the washcloth for Damian to get the juices off.

The teen then calmly explains how to properly approach a dog he does not know by letting Titus smell the back of his hand first and then to always stay calm and confident.

Titus, the gentle giant that he is, had no problems letting the tiny child pat him and run small fingers through his short fur. It was endearing to hear the giggles when Titus used his big nose to sniff at the child’s face and neck. Sitting down, Titus was taller than the child standing up, which would have been scary to some kids, but Danny seemed to love Titus instantly. The little boy easily telling the dog what a good boy he is even with the dog sitting there doing nothing.

“Titus needs his afternoon walk now,” Damian informs.

Titus stands at the word walk, clearly ready to go.

“Oh, okay.” Danny turns to the big dog to reach up and pat his head twice. “Bye-bye, Titus. Have a good walk.”

The two leave and Danny skips back over to hang over the arm of the love seat his mother sits in, typing on her phone.

“Mommy, did you see the doggie? His name is Titus. He’s a good dog.”

“Uh-huh,” she comments without really listening.

“Do you like dogs, Danny?” Bruce asks with a smile.

Danny looks at him like he forgot the man was there, tilts his head as he studies him for a moment. Bruce waits patiently until Danny deems him okay and perks back up with bright eyes.

“Uh-huh! I love dogs! Mommy says we can’t get one ‘cuz our ‘partment is too small and they’re dirty. You’s guys are lucky,” the boy rambles as he wanders around the coffee table to get closer to Bruce and away from his distracted mother.

“How do you feel about cats? Damian has a black and white one around here somewhere.”

Danny shrugs and they continue to have a rather pleasant conversation about different animals and foods and each of their houses. It takes up the amount of time for Jason to walk through the door, seemingly already informed of the situation from Alfred.

Jason was… flabbergasted. Bewildered. Caught unprepared. He was a lot of words. Mostly he was scared.

Did he really have a child? A son? If that was true then he missed so much. He missed all of his firsts. First words, first steps, first laugh, first everything.

Would the boy even like him? What if he saw all his scars and was scared of him? What if he didn’t want anything to do with Jason after not being in his life this whole time?

But the boy might not be his. There’s that. That could be… Jason didn’t like the disappointment that thought brought.

Grace was the first one he noticed. Her ripped jeans and low cut top being out of place among the antique furniture and Persian rug. She scowls at him, putting her phone down.

“Finally decided to show up?”

He bites back a comment. He broke several traffic laws to get here, it wasn’t his fault he was fourty minutes away at the time he got the call.

He glances over at Bruce and instead his eyes zero in on the child standing by the armchair Bruce was sitting in.

Just one look and he knew the boy was his.

He looks to Bruce anyway for confirmation, since he has no doubt he sent off a sample to Tim hiding like the troll he is in the basement. The man nods. Jason sucks in a deep breath and suddenly needs to sit down.

He sinks heavily in the matching armchair next to Bruce’s, separated only by a round end table. Jason can’t stop staring at those big, blue eyes that are filled with such curiosity and innocence he almost breaks down right then. But he can’t. He has to be strong. He can’t just walk away to get a handle on his emotions. He’s a dad now.

“You’re a hard man to find,” Grace folds her arms over her chest.

“I’ve been busy,” he answers lamely.

She humphs and looks away with a shake of her head.

The boy, Danny Alfred said his name was, creeps around Bruce’s legs to get closer, obviously seeing something in Jason enough to investigate. The room is quiet as they wait to see how Danny will react.

Coming to a stop right before his knees, Danny stares up at the large man with lots of scars and muscles from what he can see. He wasn’t scared. There was just something familiar that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He looks… he looks like… and he also feels almost like…

Furrowing his brows in a pout, he knows his Mommy doesn’t like it when he does it, but he still makes his eyes burn with green.

The man gasps and his eyes also swirl into an angry green.

“Daddy?” Danny asks with hope and joy.

Daddy swallows and then nods.

“Yea, buddy, I’m your dad.”

“Daddy!” The boy cheers, jumping in place with a wide smile. “Daddy! Mommy, look! It’s Daddy!”

Danny wastes no time climbing into the man’s lap and wrapping his arms around him as far as they’ll go (not very far) to press his ear to Jason’s chest over his heart. He’s practically vibrating with excitement and Jason makes sure to set a large hand on his back to hold him close.

“I fuckin’ knew it,” Grace hisses, her eyes wide at the display earlier. Both of their eyes had returned to their calmer blue and teal color, but everyone in the room saw it. “I knew he got it from you.”

His eyes narrow in warning, pulling the boy closer to his chest. He sets a hand over Danny’s exposed ear to protect him from the harsh words he’s probably already heard before.

“Do you have any idea how creepy it is to deal with a tantrum when your kid has fucking glowing green eyes?”

“Did you hit him?” Jason growls, the vibrations seeming to settle Danny even more.

“Please, I’m not my mother,” she dismisses with a sneer.

Could have fooled him.

“Everything was fine until he started doing freaky shit. I don’t know how to raise a meta kid, alright?”

“What are you talking about?”

Now he was just confused. What stuff was Danny doing that Grace thought he was a meta?

“Don’t try to pretend you don’t have powers too,” she points viciously.

“I’m not pretending. I don’t have powers. I don’t have the meta gene. What can he do?” He demands while being transparently clear.

She just glares back at him, obviously not believing him. That didn’t exactly matter at the moment.

“What can he do?” He repeats with emphasis.

She puckers her lips like she’s tasted something sour and then lifts her chin.

“Why doesn’t he just show you, huh? Danny- Would you stop babying him? Danny, show him the things you can do.”

After Jason takes the hand off the boy’s head, Danny turns to his mother warily.

“But you don’t like it,” he reminds, like she forgot.

“He wants to see it, so show him,” she waves a hand at Jason like he just asked for something he would regret.

Danny leans back to look up at his dad.

“You won’t get mad? Or scared?”

He sounds so unsure and scared. As if Jason could ever hate him. Jason really wants to punch something. Preferably something with her face on it.

“I promise I won’t.”

Another parent might have something more profound to say to reassure their child, but Jason was just starting out and honestly, it was more than Bruce would ever say.

Danny thinks for a second before wiggling to get down. He looks back once more at his mother who gives him a ‘get on with it’ motion.

The boy fidgets a little before covering his face with two hands like he’s playing hide and seek, then- disappears. Jason jerks at watching his son blink out of sight like a Martian.

“Boo!” Danny pops back into view, exactly where he was standing before with his hands out like any child on Halloween.

Jason blinks and then starts laughing. This was karma. Danny could literally become invisible, something the Bats train to do for years.

“That was good, buddy,” Jason chuckles, ruffling the kid’s hair.

Danny hesitantly smiles back, a bit of hope and pride in those eyes.

“There’s more,” Grace interrupts, seemingly uneasy with how well Jason reacted.

“Yea?” Jason directs to Danny, his focus on his son.

Danny gives a shaky nod, glancing over worriedly at Bruce who is just silently watching. Jason could see the tension in his shoulders but also the intrigue.

The boy places a hand on the coffee table and focuses on his hand. It took a few minutes of concentration before Danny’s hand went through the table like he was just dunking his hand in a pool instead of through a solid object.

He pulls his hand out and they could see it be slightly translucent.

“That one’s harder to do when I want to,” Danny mumbles.

“You mean it mostly happens on accident?”

Danny nods.

“I drop a lot. And get stuck sometimes.”

Yea, Jason can see how that could be a problem. He can’t imagine how terrified Danny was the first time a body part got stuck in an immovable object. He really wishes he could have been there for him in his panic.

“The last thing is hard too. But I’ve been practicing. Watch!”

Danny jumps once, twice, and on the third time he lingers in the air, coming down slowly like someone in water or astronauts on the moon. Danny pushes off the ground a fourth time, this time floating steadily higher like gravity meant nothing to him.

Despite the kid obviously have done this before and enjoying it with his giggles, Jason stands under him in case he falls. And falls he does. Suddenly, like the strings being cut and gravity taking hold of him again, Danny plummets into Jason waiting arms. The boy grunts on impact and then smiled sheepishly up at his dad.

“Sorry, Daddy. I promise I’m doing better.”

“That’s okay, squirt. I’m glad I was here to catch you.”

Jason plops back into the chair with his child in his lap.

“Anything else up that sleeve of yours?” He teases but is equally as serious.

Danny shakes his head enough to make his hair fluff. Jason looks to Grace for confirmation and sees she is still recovering from Danny’s fall out of the air. How many times has she had to catch him? Or wasn’t able to catch him?

She clears her throat.

“I don’t know if it’s part of it, but he never gets sick. Never even had a cough.”

Children always get sick, that’s how they build immune systems. For Danny to have never gotten even a cold, Jason doesn’t know if it’s worrying or a good thing.

“Any allergies?” Is the first thing on his mind, thinking of what Alfred will need to know.

She shakes her head with a negative hum.

“In one of the bags is a folder with all of his documents. Birth certificate, immunizations, doctor visits. I also made a list of some favorite things and things he hates. It has foods on there too.”

That was… honestly more than he was expecting from her. But it also cements the fact that she intended to drop him off with him and then never see them again. She raised him for four years and she doesn’t even want visitation? Does she not understand there are legal documents she needs to sign to transfer custody properly?

“There are some things you need to sign, but it will take some time to get it sorted,” Bruce chimes in all business.

Long nails swipe through the air like signing her rights away was trivial.

“My phone number and address are on one of the documents. Just tell me when and where.”

She stands to leave and Jason can feel Danny tense up.

“Are we leaving?” He asks worriedly, climbing down from his seat on his dad’s lap. He didn’t want to go.

“You’re staying here. With your dad,” Grace says shortly, not once looking at the boy.

“Are you going home to get the rest of our stuff?”

“No. I’m going home. You’re staying here. End of story.”

Danny visibly thinks on that for a second then scampers after his mother as she leaves the room.

“Is it like Robbie where his mom lives in one ‘partment and his dad lives in a different one?”

Grace sighs and runs a hand through her hair. She’s clearly flustered and is showing it as irritation, but Jason can’t help but trail behind in case she says something that she shouldn’t.

“No, Danny, it’s not like Robbie. I- I am leaving you here and I’m not coming back, okay?”

Jason takes a step forward to draw her attention and send her a look that says ‘choose your words carefully, this is a conversation he will remember for a long time’.

“But- but why? Is it ‘cuz of my things? I’m sorry I scared you, Mommy. I didn’t mean to. I won’t do them again, promise.”

Jason grits his teeth at how desperate his son sounds, trying to keep his mother with him. Even making a promise he can’t keep.

Grace finally looks at her baby. Sees the turmoil and tears in his baby blue eyes. She gets down on her knees to get level and places her hands on his tiny shoulders.

“You will do them again and that’s not a bad thing. Your things are part of you. That’s okay. You’re not in any trouble. I just- I’m in over my head here, Danny. I can’t take care of you the way you should be taken care of, okay? But your dad can, I hope. So I’m leaving you here. With him.”

Danny’s lip wobbles and she has to restrain herself from not hugging him like she always does when he’s upset.

“Then- then you’ll visit, right? Like Chase’s grandma visits him?”

Why is this so hard?

“I don’t think so, baby. I don’t think you’re gonna see me again. I’m sorry.”

Danny is silent for a while. He wipes his eyes and sniffs.

“Are you goin’ ‘way like Jamal’s dad?”

The ten year old in the same building as them lost his dad in a wrong place wrong time type situation. Jamal had told Danny his dad went away forever so he couldn’t see him again. Grace had told him that when people go away forever, they get put among the stars he loves so much to be remembered.

Grace wears such a pained expression Jason half thought she was about to burst into tears.

“Kinda,” she nods. “So give me a big hug, okay?”

Danny was in her arms before she finished speaking. Jason didn’t exactly know why she wanted to stop all contact, but he had a theory that if Danny really was a meta (and with his powers he was leaning toward believing it) then Grace would want to distance herself as much as possible to protect them both. He met her in Crime Alley, he knew they didn’t live in a good spot. If any one of those crooks saw Danny use any of his powers, they could steal him easily from his single mother. She didn’t want to give those kind of people leverage to get Danny and sell him off. She wasn’t trying to be cruel, she was just trying to do what was best for her kid, even if that meant cutting her out of his life.

He had a strange new respect for her he didn’t want to acknowledge.

Grace takes a heavy breath and pulls away showing Danny’s tear stained cheeks. She wipes them like it would do anything.

“I gotta go now, Danny.”

“No,” he cries and Jason’s heart breaks a little more.

“We gotta say goodbye now. Please.”

Grace is just barely hanging on. Jason knows as soon as she walks out that door she’ll break down.

“I don’t want to. Don’t want you to leave,” Danny whines, trying to keep a strong grip on his mother.

She holds his hands in hers and gives him a serious look.

“You’re going to be fine. You’re gonna be just fine with your dad.” She leans in and whispers, “You’re not alone, Danny. You are never alone. Just look up. Look at the stars, baby, and you’ll be okay.”

Danny pouts, but thinks about those words.

“I like the stars,” he mumbles.

She smiles, probably the first one in a while.

“I know you do.”

She kisses his forehead one last time and stands. Danny whines. She steps away.

“Bye-bye, Danny. I- I love you.”

“Mommy,” he cries, tears and snot coming full force now.

Jason can’t take anymore and picks up his son to hold on his hip.

“It’s okay, buddy. I got you,” he assures. He turns to Grace who is having the internal battle of her life in the foyer. “I got him.”

It’s an assurance to her too, that he will take care of Danny, that he would be there for him. It was a promise.

Grace sees it for what it is and leaves out the front door without another word.

Danny screams and cries and struggles, but Jason holds on tight, scared he’ll fall or use his powers to get away and disappear. The man walks back to the drawing room so his son wasn’t staring at the door longingly.

As soon as Jason sits down, Danny struggles harder since they stopped moving. So Jason stands again, adjusting the boy in his arms and starts pacing a path around the room.

Bruce has already disappeared, not knowing what to do with a heartbroken child crying his eyes out. Alfred has cleared away the tray of snacks, leaving two waters on the table, one in a small, plastic cup. Jason spies Damian poke his head in for a second to see what the matter was, and upon seeing no immediate threat went off wherever. Other than that, father and son were alone to figure themselves out.

Danny was going through a lot for a toddler and Jason didn’t exactly know how to handle what happened either. He tried his best with speaking reassurances into the boy’s hair, but he didn’t know if Danny even heard him over his own crying.

It was a rough first meeting to be frank, but after a while (what felt like ages) Danny cried himself to sleep and Jason felt it safe to finally sprawl out on the loveseat with the boy laying on his chest. Compared to a grueling patrol, that was definitely worse. He never wanted to have to go through that again, but knew as a dad it was part of the job description.

[mostly-imagines]

Moonstruck

jason todd x reader

aka sober thoughts and all that

warnings: intoxication

Jason has a thing about drinking around you. He’d kind of skirted around it for a while when you were first dating, but after a while you’d noticed he never really has more than a drink or two regardless of how much you had. The only times you ever see him drink more is when he’s downing whiskey as a pain mitigater when he needs stitches. You’d initially assumed he just wasn’t a big drinker, but eventually you’d come to realize it was more of a matter of not wanting to lose his inhibitions around you. 

You know he’s still working on trusting himself, even sober, because he’s terrified of accidentally hurting you. But you have a hard time imagining him losing control like that in any state and you’re nearly certain he’s just being hard on himself.

You’ve been falling in and out of less than peaceful sleep for the past few hours, having trouble easing yourself while your boyfriend is still out. You at least attempted to get to bed earlier tonight because for once he isn’t out fighting crime and risking injury, though you haven’t found much more luck than usual. 

You lie on your back, half ready to give up and turn on a movie while you wait.

You’re momentarily startled to hear Dick bellow out your name, no regard for the fact that it’s nearing three in the morning and you have neighbors. He’s not much of a shouter so you’re instantly on alert, worried that he or Jason are hurt.

You fumble out of bed and rush to the living room, surprised to find your fire escape empty. You turn, proceeding towards the front door, opening it cautiously. 

“Dick? What—” You don’t need to finish your question because the second you take one good look at the two of them, the state of them is immediately clear. Dick, who’s barely standing upright on his own, supports your boyfriend's weight via Jason’s arm slinged around his shoulder.

“Hey!” Dick grins at you, far more lively than he has any business being this late at night. “Sorry, couldn’t remember which apartment was yours.”

You nod pensively, “Well the perspective’s different than when you’re coming in through the window.”

He continues on past that without thought, “I’ve come to deliver,” he says, gesturing up to Jason with a bit of a strain. You’re pretty sure there were supposed to be a couple more words at the end of that sentence but you understand well enough anyway.

You nod, eyebrows raised and try to hide a smile. “Thanks, Dick.” He shifts your boyfriend off of his shoulder to lean him up against the door frame, where Jason places a majority of his weight.

You eye him warily, not confident in his steadiness. He seems to hold well enough against the heavy door though, his eyes drifting around the tiled floor. Your attention shifts to Dick, who’s clearly satisfied with a job well done and ready to go.

You tilt your head, seeing him turn away. “You good?”

“I’m great!” He calls out with a thumbs up. You watch as he staggers away, nearly missing the exit.

You look back over at Jason, who’s already staring at you with a soft gaze. “You’re pretty,” he fawns, irises blown out and flickering all over your face.

“Oh you’re drunk drunk.” You grin, watching him stumble forward a bit.

He shakes his head, looking a bit dizzy after, “Shoulda seen Tim.”

You pause mid laugh, “…Who drove you here?”

He falters at that, gaze falling to the floor. “Uh…” He winces, “Damian…”

You nod slowly, eyes wide, “We’re gonna talk about that tomorrow.”

“He’s better than you’d think.” You’d hope so. 

Well, at least he’s spending time with his brothers.

You sigh, straightening your posture in preparation for the job to come. “Alright, come on big guy,” you pull him up from his slant against the wall, hauling him into the same position he’d been in with Dick—though you’re struggling significantly more to hold him upright. “You gotta help me out here, Jay,” you grunt, trying very hard not to fold under his weight. You swat the door shut behind you, making peace with the fact that he’ll scold you in the morning for not locking it.

He presses an uncoordinated kiss to the side of your head as you try to shuffle him along, not interested in the least in easing your labor. His self discipline isn't quite gone, but his awareness of how big he is sure seems to be. 

You wobble from the heavy weight of his arm around your shoulders, holding onto him by his waist. You manage to get him to sidestep your cat, narrowly, though Salem hisses at him all the same. Jason takes no notice. You stumble into your bedroom with only about 30% of his usual balance aiding your effort.

He collapses onto the bed the second his legs hit the frame, pulling you down with him. You lie, somewhat awkwardly, on his chest as he holds you tight—probably tighter than he would if he were sober. It feels nice though.

You lie your cheek flat on his chest, relaxing against him. “What’d you guys do? Thought you were just having an easy night.”

He takes a deep breath before answering, “Raided Dick’s liquor c—” he stops, mulling over his words. “...Bruce’s liquor that was in Dick’s cabinet.” He annunciates every word in that sentence very carefully.

You squint speculatively, “Didn’t take Dick for the stealing type.”

He grumbles, “He’s not. ‘Less it’s Bruce.”

You can’t help the smile that breaks out on your face, “Aw, you really do take after your big brother, don’t you?” 

He scoffs at that, “I don’t. I’m the one who gave him the idea.” Yeah, that sounds right.

He taps on your cheek lightly and you pick your head up to find him looking at you with puppy dog eyes.

“What’s that look for?”

“Can I kiss you?” his eyes drop down to your lips, “I really wanna kiss you.” He’s nearly whispering and you feel your heart skip several beats at the feeling of his eyes on you like this.

You press a light kiss to his lips and he practically purrs.  

You pull back, admiring the serene expression on his face. “You taste like whiskey.”

“I like whiskey,” he says honestly.

You smile, nodding. “I know. Don’t know why, but..”

He leans in for another kiss but you parry, only letting his lips meet your cheek. He frowns grimly, attempting to chase your lips. 

“Lemme kiss you,” the pout on his face is adorable and while you hesitate to deny him, you retreat, resting your chin on his chest.

You smile wistfully, tracing his cheekbone, “You’re drunk, baby.”

“‘M not that drunk,” he tells you, though everything about him says otherwise.

Your hand falls flat on his shoulder. “Your eleven year old brother drove you here.”

He shrugs, “He can drive the bat…batcar? Bat…”

“Batmobile,” you finish.

“The batmobile.” he nods, as if he was seconds away from remembering. You suspect he wasn’t. 

“Bruce lets him drive it?” you question, wholly disbelieving.

“No.”

Enough said.

“You’re gonna be hungover as hell in the morning,” you mumble, taking in his uninhibited demeanor.

He nods that off, “‘S okay. You’ll be here, right?”

You tilt your head, observing him chalantly. “Where else would I go?”

His arms snake tighter around you at that, giving you a little squeeze before relenting. 

“I wanna marry you,” he murmurs, brushing your hair out of your face and tucking it neatly behind your ear. 

You blink rapidly a few times, “What?” You push yourself up on his chest, sitting up on his abdomen.

“Wanna marry you.” He repeats, eyes lidded as he breathes easy under you. “You’re m’favorite person…want you t’be my wife.”

Your breath gets caught in your throat. “..You want me to be your wife?”

His lips are slightly parted and his pupils are wide as he stares up at you, taking in your features carefully. “‘Course I do.” He brings his fingers up to your cheek, touching you softly with all the wonderment of a little kid. “You’re so pretty.”

You’re quick to return, “So are you.” Especially right now.

He shuts his eyes momentarily, shaking his head morosely, “You gotta stop bein’ so nice t’me,” he lets his hand fall to rest on your thigh. “Don’t deserve it.”

“Shut up,” you lour, “You deserve it more than anybody.”

“No. Not more than you,” his hands knead at your thighs like it’s an instinct. “You deserve everything.” He closes his eyes, tilting his chin up as his head sinks further back into the pillow. “Think I’d do anything you wanted.”

“Jay—”

He continues on, “Want you t’be happy. Wanna make you happy.”

Your face falls into an expression of dazed awe, “You do make me happy.”

He dwindles at that, “No, really happy. Take care of you. Build you a house, give you babies. Wha’ever you want.”

He paws at your thighs, trying to get you to come closer again to him. You lay back down on top of him and his hand instantly buries itself in your hair, stroking softly. “You’re just…you’re so perfect…” He turns his head to mumble against your forehead, “Feel like I dreamed you, sometimes.”

You breathe deeply against the crook of his neck, eyes feeling glassy. “I love you.” It’s all you can get out, and it’s not enough, but it’s all of it. 

“I love you,” he says like he’s trying to turn it into gospel. “So much. I love you so much, so fuckin’ much.” His words start to get lost in his weary babbling.

Your chest feels full and you can distinctly feel every beat of your heart against it. Or maybe it’s Jason’s heart. But what’s the difference?

You press a tender kiss to the nape of his neck. “You’re really sweet when you’re drunk, you know that?”

He hums lowly, head lulling against yours.

You still for a second, finding his breathing has slowed and his hand has seized its movement in your hair. His soft breaths fill the air as you press a kiss to his collarbone before settling in completely. “You’re gonna love when I tell you about this in the morning,” you whisper, letting your eyes shut too.

💗 likes are the poor mans reblog 💗

[deadsetobsessions]

Bruce “Sad Wet Cat of a Man” Wayne meets Danny “Sad Wet Cat of a Teenager” and immediately adopts him. A prompt? A fic starter?

——

This was pathetic, Bruce groused, wringing his cape under the mostly effective shelter of an awning. Amity’s rain was somehow more potent than that of Gotham and it managed to soak the waterproof fabric of his cape. This was not scientifically possible.

Bruce refrained from giving into the urge of slamming his head backwards into the wall.

“You’re new in town, aren’t ya?”

Bruce subtly startled, head swiveling over to the presence he somehow hadn’t detected. His heart gave a little squeeze- and, uh oh, that’s the squeeze he got when he adopted his kids. Bruce was self aware enough to see where this was going, but as usual, he was helpless to stop it.

Batman slightly dipped his head. How did the child know?

Like he read his mind, the teenager nodded. “You look like it. We know everyone in Amity. And you’re new. Tourists.” He chuckled, brushing the weird rain out of his hair. “And, you’re soaked.”

“This is waterproof,” Batman growled.

“Yeah, in other places of the world, maybe,” At Bruce’s questioning look (not that anyone other than liminal could have figured out his friendly intentions via the scary glare he had on), the kid elaborated further. “but you didn’t get Amity-made textiles. They’re made to last in any weather.”

“This is rain.”

“Ecto-contaminated rain, yeah.” The kid sighed, one hand absently fluffing up his hair and getting rid of stray green-tinged water droplets. “I’m Danny. I guess I’m your Amity tour guide today.”

Well, Bruce wasn’t the type to turn down an advantage. If this was a trap one of his enemies made for him to stumble into, Bruce had to admit it was well made and well researched. He never could turn away kids, especially ones that had that edge of work weary exhaustion to them like Danny did.

Danny, as expected, tried to fill in the silence. Alfred's technique always worked. Even on Bruce himself.

"This is the mall, by the way. It's dead right now because you're here on a Wednesday during school hours." Danny smirked to himself.

"Why are you not in school then?"

"It's called skipping. Or, for you, I guess it'd be 'playing hooky,'" Danny sassed, making quotation marks with his hands. He was exactly like Dick.

Bruce felt his heart melt. Oh no. Alfred was going to be mad again. But... it was for a good cause! And besides, what are the chances that Danny'd be a crime fighting vigilante? Can't be that high, right? (Bruce conveniently avoided the fact that statistically, the chances of him adopting baby vigilantes were pretty much at a hundred percent success rate.)

"Hng." He grunted. Danny rolled his eyes. Like Jason and Damian and Stephanie. "Where are your parents?"

He had to get the important stuff squared away first.

Danny shrugged. "Come on. There's a fabric store that way. We'll make you a rain guard first so your stuff doesn't get wet."

Ah, classic avoidance. Danny sure reminded him of Tim. Bruce inclined his head. "Lead the way."

[luv-lock]

For SpiderGirl Y/N, how would they react to her being injured or dead. I wanna see them suffer. Only if you are ok with it. Love all your stuff, btw.

If you being injured:

The mission had been brutal, the enemy relentless, and the stakes higher than ever. But somehow, they made it through. Barely. And now, there you were—injured but alive, laying on the med bay table like the biggest diva Gotham had ever seen.

“Oh, God, I’m dying,” you groaned, clutching your side dramatically. Your hand was caked in blood, but it was far from life-threatening. Still, that didn’t stop you from milking it for all it was worth.

“You’re not dying, Y/N,” Dick said, crouching beside you with a worried expression. “The wound isn’t even that deep.”

You shot him a glare, your lips curling into a pout. “Easy for you to say, Golden Boy. You’re not the one bleeding out.”

Jason snorted from where he leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. “She’s got a scratch, and now she thinks she’s in a soap opera.”

“Shut up, Jason,” you snapped, though the bite was lessened by your theatrics. “I’m injured! I could have bled out on the battlefield. The least you could do is pretend to care.”

Jason rolled his eyes but walked over anyway, leaning down to inspect the wound. “You’re fine, princess,” he said with a smirk, ruffling your hair.

“I’m not fine!” you whined, slapping his hand away. “I need love and attention. Lots of it.”

Dick’s Turn

Dick was always the softie, and you knew exactly how to play him. You reached out with a trembling hand, your eyes wide and watery. “Nightwing,” you murmured weakly, “I don’t think I’ll make it. Hold me.”

He hesitated for a moment before sighing and sitting on the edge of the table. Carefully, he pulled you into his arms, cradling you against his chest.

“There, there,” he said softly, stroking your hair. “You’re gonna be okay, Y/N.”

You sighed dramatically, leaning into him. “You smell nice,” you muttered, nuzzling into his neck.

Dick blushed furiously, but he didn’t pull away. Jason, on the other hand, gagged audibly.

“God, get a room,” Jason muttered, clearly annoyed.

Jason’s Turn

You turned your big, watery eyes on Jason next. “Jay… my favorite outlaw… my knight in shining armor… can you carry me? Please?”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Carry you? To where? The couch is like ten feet away.”

You pouted, batting your eyelashes. “But I’m injured! And it’s your fault for being so handsome that I got distracted during the fight.”

Jason stared at you for a long moment before groaning. “Fine. But only because I don’t want to listen to you whining all night.”

He scooped you up effortlessly, and you wasted no time wrapping your arms around his neck. “You’re so strong,” you murmured, resting your head against his chest.

Jason’s ears turned red, but he kept his expression neutral. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it.”

Tim’s Turn

When Tim walked in with a first aid kit, you immediately perked up. “Timmy! My hero!”

He sighed, kneeling beside the table to inspect your wound. “Let me patch you up.”

You let him work for about two minutes before you got bored. Then, with a sly smile, you reached out and pulled his head into your lap.

“Y/N, what are you—” Tim stammered, his face turning bright red.

“I need comfort,” you said innocently, running your fingers through his hair. “You’re such a good boy, Timmy.”

Tim froze, his brain short-circuiting as you hummed softly, clearly enjoying his embarrassment.

Damian’s Turn

Damian stormed into the room, clearly irritated. “Why are you whining like an infant?” he snapped, crossing his arms.

“Because I’m injured, you little gremlin,” you shot back. “Now come here and give me a hug.”

Damian scoffed. “Absolutely not.”

But when you held out your arms, looking pitiful and teary-eyed, he hesitated. Finally, with a huff, he walked over and awkwardly patted your head.

“There. Are you happy now?”

You grinned, pulling him into a tight hug. “Aww, you do care, baby bird.”

Damian squawked indignantly, struggling to escape, but you held on tight. “Let me go, you lunatic!”

Bruce’s Turn

Bruce entered the med bay last, his expression as stern as ever. “What’s going on here?”

“She’s being dramatic,” Jason said, gesturing to you.

“She’s injured,” Dick corrected.

Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Y/N, stop harassing them and let me see the wound.”

You pouted but let him approach. As he carefully inspected the cut, you leaned your head against his arm. “Daddy Bats, you’re so gentle,” you teased.

Bruce froze, giving you a pointed look. “Do you want me to help or not?”

You grinned. “I do. But a kiss on the forehead would speed up my recovery.”

Bruce groaned, clearly regretting every decision that led to this moment. “You’re impossible.”

By the end of the night, you were bandaged up, pampered, and thoroughly satisfied with the attention you’d received. And while the boys all pretended to be annoyed, they couldn’t hide the fact that they cared.

If you die:

The night was eerily silent, as though the city itself knew it was about to lose its spark. Gotham was cold and unforgiving, but it had always been alive because of you—chaotic, unrelenting, and fearless. And now? Now, you were gone.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

Dick (Nightwing)

Dick was the first to find you. Blood pooled beneath your broken body, your mask torn to reveal your face—pale and eerily peaceful. For the first time, he saw you. He saw the girl who was tired, scared, and brave all at once.

“Y/N!” he screamed, sliding to his knees beside you. His hands shook as he cradled your head, desperately searching for a pulse. “No, no, no! Stay with me, okay? You’re gonna be fine!”

But you weren’t fine. You’d fought until the very end, trading jokes for grit, determination, and a ferocity none of them had truly appreciated before. And now? Dick was left holding your lifeless body, sobbing into your blood-soaked suit.

“This isn’t fair,” he whispered, his tears falling onto your face. “You were supposed to be invincible, dammit.”

Jason (Red Hood)

Jason was next, drawn by Dick’s anguished cries. The moment he saw you, his heart stopped. You, who somehow made him laugh even on his darkest days—you were gone.

He didn’t cry, not at first. He couldn’t. Instead, he fell silent, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Who did this?” he growled, his voice trembling with rage.

When no one answered, he turned to Dick, his eyes wild. “WHO DID THIS?!”

Jason’s fury was all-consuming, but beneath it was a grief so raw it threatened to break him. He knelt beside you, brushing the hair from your face with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with his shaking hands.

“You weren’t supposed to go out like this,” he muttered. “You were supposed to annoy us forever, you hear me? Forever, Y/N.”

Tim (Red Robin)

Tim didn’t want to believe it. He stood frozen, his mind racing to find a way—any way—to fix this. You couldn’t be dead. You were the one who called him “good boy,” who smothered him with affection, who always seemed untouchable despite your reckless behavior.

“This… this isn’t real,” he stammered, his voice breaking. “She’s faking it. She’s… she’s messing with us.”

But you weren’t. And when Tim finally accepted the truth, he collapsed. He crawled to your side, his hands trembling as he reached for yours. “You can’t leave us,” he whispered, tears streaming down his face. “I need you. We all do.”

Damian (Robin)

Damian didn’t cry. He didn’t scream. He simply stood there, staring at your body as though willing you to get up. You always did when he told you to. Always.

“Get up,” he demanded, his voice cold and sharp. “You’re not allowed to die.”

When you didn’t move, his composure cracked. “Y/N, I’m serious. Get up! Stop… stop playing around!”

And then, for the first time, Damian fell to his knees. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms so hard they drew blood. “You’re a coward,” he spat through gritted teeth, his voice thick with emotion. “You left me. You promised you wouldn’t.”

Bruce (Batman)

Bruce arrived last, his face as stoic as ever—until he saw you. His shoulders sagged, and for a moment, he wasn’t Batman. He wasn’t the Dark Knight. He was just a man who had failed someone he loved.

He knelt beside you, his gloved hand brushing against your cheek. “You were just a kid,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “You deserved more time.”

Bruce had seen death before, but this? This was different. You weren’t just another casualty. You were family. And he had failed you.

“I should have stopped you,” he said, his voice cracking. “I should have protected you.”

Alfred’s Grief

Alfred was the one who had always known how to handle you, from the moment you spat in Bruce’s face as a child to the day you showed up in a spider suit, smugly proclaiming yourself Gotham’s best hero. You were incorrigible, maddening, and unapologetically yourself, and Alfred adored you for it.

When he heard the news, Alfred didn’t cry. Not at first. He simply closed his eyes, placed the tea tray he’d been preparing on the counter, and leaned against the sink. His hands trembled as he clutched the edge, the weight of your loss sinking into his bones.

“She was just a child,” he murmured to no one, his voice thick with grief. “My child.”

That night, Alfred cleaned your suit. He worked silently, meticulously wiping away the blood and patching up the tears as if you might walk through the door and demand it back at any moment. When he finished, he folded it neatly and placed it in the Batcave beside the others, his hands lingering on the fabric.

“She would have wanted it spotless,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

The Manor felt colder without you. He found himself pausing at the sound of laughter, only to realize it wasn’t yours. He missed the way you teased him, calling him “Alfie” and sneaking cookies from the kitchen. Most of all, he missed the way you brought life into a house filled with so much darkness.

The Funeral

The Manor was silent in the days following your death. No one spoke unless absolutely necessary, and even then, it was barely above a whisper. Your absence was a gaping wound none of them knew how to heal.

Jason stayed in his room, punching walls until his knuckles bled. Tim buried himself in work, desperate to distract himself. Damian trained until he collapsed, refusing to let anyone see him cry. And Dick couldn’t even look at your room without breaking down.

Bruce tried to hold them all together, but even he struggled. At your funeral, he gave a speech, his voice steady but his eyes filled with sorrow.

The Aftermath

They all dealt with your death in their own way, but one thing was constant—they would never stop missing you. Every quip, every smile, every moment of chaos you brought into their lives was etched into their memories forever.

Jason would often find himself staring at the night sky, muttering, “You’d probably call me a softie for this.”

Tim would keep a photo of you on his desk, a constant reminder of the person who always believed in him.

Damian would visit your grave, silently promising to make you proud.

And Dick? Dick would tell stories about you to anyone who’d listen, keeping your memory alive.

As for Bruce? He’d sit in the Batcave late at night, staring at your suit and wondering what he could have done differently.

You may have been gone, but you would never be forgotten. You were their light. And the hole you left in their lives would never be filled.

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

[dollishmehrayan]

BATBOYS TOXIC TRAITS / RED FLAGS + GREEN FLAGS ── .✦

a/n: the thing is, they all aren’t like problematic when it comes to relationships but they do have some things and flaws which when heard sound “oh okay that’s fine” but may be like super annoying in a irl relationship also this was a request by anon (here)! (Tags: batboys x reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

RED FLAGS:

Chronic People-Pleaser: Will prioritize everyone’s needs over his own (or yours), leading to burnout… and you having to remind him you exist.

Flirty by Nature: He’s not trying to flirt… it just happens. That waitress? Nope, not on purpose, but yeah, you’ll roll your eyes a lot.

Hero Complex: He always has to “save” people, including you, even when you’re perfectly fine handling it yourself. “I got it, babe.” No, you don’t, Dick.

GREEN FLAGS:

Emotionally Intelligent: He can read your mood like a book and knows exactly how to make you smile (with pancakes shaped like hearts).

Physical Affection Expert: Hugs, cuddles, forehead kisses—you’re basically his personal teddy bear.

Supportive King: He’s your biggest cheerleader, hyping you up in the most genuine, heartfelt ways. “That’s my girl.”

JASON TODD ── .✦

RED FLAGS:

Anger Issues: He’ll throw hands for you at the slightest provocation. Guy looks at you wrong? Jason’s already removing his jacket.

Emotionally Guarded: Good luck getting him to open up. He’s more likely to tell you his deepest fears after you’ve fallen asleep.

Reckless Behavior: He’ll drag you into the most insane situations and act like it’s no big deal. “What do you mean this is dangerous? It’s fine.”

GREEN FLAGS:

Loyal to a Fault: He’ll defend you with his life, no questions asked. “You mess with her, you mess with me.”

Soft Romantic: Beneath the tough exterior, he’s writing you sweet notes and remembering the little things, like how you take your coffee.

Protective (in a good way): He won’t smother you, but he’ll make sure you always feel safe, even if it’s just crossing the street.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

RED FLAGS:

Workaholic: He’ll forget to eat, sleep, and sometimes text you back because “the case was just getting good!”

Overthinks Everything: Spends hours analyzing your last text to figure out if you were mad or just tired. “Was that period passive-aggressive?”

Terrible Self-Care: You’ll have to force him to drink water and go to bed like a mom with a rebellious child.

GREEN FLAGS:

Incredibly Thoughtful: He remembers every detail about you, from your favorite flower to that obscure hobby you mentioned once.

Adorably Awkward: His shy smiles and fumbling over words when you flirt back are endlessly endearing.

Problem Solver: He’ll find solutions to all your problems, from fixing your computer to making your bad day better with tea and soft music.

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

RED FLAGS:

Insanely Jealous: He glares daggers at anyone who looks at you too long. “Why is he breathing near you?”

Judgmental: He might critique your taste in music, books, or anything else with his usual bluntness. “This… is what you listen to?”

Control Freak: He likes things done a certain way and will try to “help” you by micromanaging your life.

GREEN FLAGS:

Devoted Partner: Once he’s in, he’s all in. You’ll never doubt his commitment because he’s always showing up for you.

Loyal Beyond Measure: He’ll defend your honor to anyone, even Bruce. “She’s perfect, Father. You simply lack taste.”

Surprisingly Gentle: Despite his tough exterior, he has a soft side that only you get to see, like the way he pets animals—or you—so tenderly.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

RED FLAGS:

Emotionally Repressed: He’s basically a human brick wall when it comes to expressing his feelings. “I’m… fine.” No, Bruce, you’re not.

Work Comes First: He’ll disappear into the Batcave for days unless you drag him out by the cape which becomes quickly annoying.

Overprotective: He’ll want to track your every move, not because he doesn’t trust you, but because he worries too much. “It’s for your safety.”

GREEN FLAGS:

Quietly Romantic: He may not be overly expressive, but he’ll show love through subtle gestures—like a bouquet of your favorite flowers left on the table.

Ultimate Provider: He makes sure you never want for anything, whether it’s emotional support or physical comfort.

Unshakable Devotion: Once you’ve captured his heart, he’s yours forever. There’s no halfway with Bruce—he’s in it for the long haul.

[mywritersmind]

GO OUT WITH ME - LN4

summary : Lando doesn’t beg. But when it comes to y/n, he can’t help it.

listen up : nothing big to note! just cuteness

word count : 945

⋆｡‧˚⋆

“Go out with me.” He says for the third time today, watching me swipe on my strawberry lip gloss. I pocket the bottle into my jeans pocket, crossing my arms over my black vest. I look to Lando who’s behind me in his papaya suit.

“Could you please stop bothering my friend?” Oscar says, sitting on a stool in his own driver's room.

“I will if she says yes.” He looks at me with big blue eyes, smiling. Too bad I have to crush his dreams.

“No.” I shrug and look back to my childhood best friend.

“Why are you even here, Lan?” Oscar leans his head back against the wall.

“What do you mean? I love hanging out with my bestie!” He stands, messing with Oscar’s hair. I laugh a bit and his face lights up, “Go out with me.”

“Goodbye Lando!” Oscar pushes him out the door and slams it in his face. “You know he will stop if you ask him, right?”

I look at my manicure, sighing, “Yeah, I know.”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Lando won. I go to a race to watch Oscar and everywhere I turn, Landos face is being projected onto some screen. I was there in Miami and now I'm here in the Netherlands.

I’m leaving the paddock when I literally run into the man. I told you he’s everywhere!

He’s smiling like I've never seen before, sweaty and laughing before he looks up at me, “Shit, Y/n! I’m sorry.”

“No problem.” I shake my head, “Congrats, by the way.” He bites his lip, his suit unzipped and water bottle in hand.

“Thanks! You must be a good luck charm.” he winks and I'm thoroughly reminded how attractive he is. I won’t go out with him but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate him.

“You going out to celebrate?” He’s walking with me through the hall.

“Nah I want fast food and a movie.” He shakes his head, a curl falling onto his forehead. “Join me?”

“Bye, Norris.” I walk out the door.

I can practically hear the smile in his sweet accent, “See you later, Y/l/n.”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

I knock on Oscar’s door repeatedly, “Open up, Idiot!”

No reply.

My stupid best friend hasn’t responded to me all night, we had plans for me to cheer him up after his crappy race but he’s totally ditching me!

“That’s my room.” I freeze when he speaks. The British accent is one that I will not confuse with Oscars.

I slowly turn to Lando, “Oh.”

“Any reason you’ve come for a visit?” He holds a bucket of ice and a dutch chocolate bar. “Change your mind about the date?”

I pull my lips into a thin line, “No! I’m looking for Oscar.”

He walks closer to me, “We switched rooms. He's a level down.”

“Shit.” I roll my eyes, “You think he’s asleep?”

“Definitely. Seemed wiped after today.” He shrugs and eyes the bag I'm holding.

I was supposed to cheer him up after a crappy race, I bought all the Australian treats I could find, “Great.” I sigh. ”He’s leaving tomorrow morning so now I’m stuck with all these snacks.”

“Snacks?” Lando almost laughs, “Poor you, stuck with food.”

“Australian snacks! We were supposed to watch ‘How to lose a guy in ten days’ and he was supposed to complain about it!” I frown, I don’t get to see Oscar often even though he’s just come from break, I barely saw him.

Lando unlocks his room, “I’m sorry. I’d invite you in but I'm assuming you’d say no.”

“Lando Norris… Are you giving up?”

His head shoots up when I say it, “No! I’m respecting your wishes.” He opens the door and walks in, clearly waiting for me to make my decision.

I push past him and jump the snacks onto his bed, “Oscar told me you don’t like tim tams.”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

An hour later I find myself watching Oscar and I’s movie with Lando. He’s actually really funny, and genuinely thinks this movie is hilarious.

I’m caught looking at him, “Everything okay?”

I nod slowly, pretending like I wasn’t just examining his face, “Can I ask you something?” He nods, “If I said yes… to a proper date- what would you do?”

He smiles, “Probably jump for joy, if i’m being honest.”

I roll my eyes.

“You know I don’t just ask you out on some whim right?“ He’s being serious. “I like you. I want to get to know you more.” He says it so casually but I can tell he’s nervous.

I can’t breathe, “More than just Oscar's friend?”

Lando shakes his head, toying with a candy in his hand, “You’ve always been more than Oscar's friend.”

“Then, yes.” I’m certain this time.

“Yes?”

“Yes i’ll go out with you.”

He blinks.

“You better not be joking.”

“I’m not!” I laugh and he puts his head into his hands, “Lando!”

“I knew you’d come around!” He points at me before pausing again, “This isn’t some pity thing, right? Just because I’m alone after I won doesn’t mean I’m all sad or something!”

“Lando.” I try but he keeps going.

“I did win, after all! And I don’t want you to say yes because of that either because it’s cool and all but I am more than a win also I swear I have other friends besides Os-”

“Lando!” I laugh and grab his face. He stops speaking, “I want to go out with you. Because you’re you.”

I can feel his heart beating, “That’s good.”

“Very good.” I agree. His smile hits me once more and I match it, “You’re cute.”

“I think I'm dreaming.”

note : race was TOUGHHH today😭 had to write smt happy to cope. loved it for charles tho can’t lie! hope you enjoy!

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

@errorunfound1

Yandere!neglectful!Batfam x mom!reader

Wayne Manor had always felt vast, but to you, it was more of a void than a home. It was easy to get lost in its endless hallways, in the constant hum of life orbiting Bruce’s nocturnal mission. You married him for love, despite knowing the weight of the life he led. You accepted his scars, his mission, his world. But what you hadn’t expected was how little space there would be left for you in it.

Bruce was always out, chasing shadows, leaving you to navigate a family that seemed determined to keep you at arm’s length. You poured your heart into them—Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian—but your efforts were met with indifference at best and disdain at worst. You had been a mother in every way that mattered, yet the coldness you received in return made your heart ache.

“You don’t have to act like you care,” Jason sneered once when you tried to patch him up after patrol. “We both know you’re just here for him.”

Tim barely acknowledged you unless it was necessary, his head buried in his work. Dick’s smiles, once genuine, now felt like politeness masking discomfort. And Damian, always the sharpest, had no qualms about cutting you down. “You’re not my mother,” he’d said, his words a dagger that twisted in your chest.

Bruce never intervened. When you tried to tell him, his responses were dismissive. “They’ll come around,” he’d say before disappearing into the night. But they never did.

So, you stayed quiet, swallowing the hurt, letting it fester.

One night, you stood in the empty dining room, staring at the cold, untouched dinner you’d prepared. The clock ticked on the wall, counting the hours Bruce was late. Again. You could hear the faint hum of voices from the Batcave below, the family gathered around him while you sat alone.

It wasn’t anger that bubbled up this time. It was resignation.

You left that night, not with a dramatic goodbye, but with a simple bag and a note left on the kitchen counter.

“I love you, but I can’t keep losing myself in a family that doesn’t want me.”

The days without you passed unnoticed at first. Bruce buried himself in his work, assuming you needed time to cool off. The Batkids carried on as usual, their lives too busy to miss the quiet presence you’d once provided.

It was Alfred who noticed first—the meals left uneaten, the flowers on the windowsill wilting. “Sir,” he said carefully one evening, “she’s not coming back.”

Bruce stopped mid-step, his expression flickering. “She just needs time.”

But days turned into weeks, and the absence became impossible to ignore. The manor felt colder, emptier. Jason snapped more often, his temper flaring at the slightest provocation. Tim’s focus wavered, his mistakes piling up in a way they never had before. Damian trained harder, his strikes sharper, but there was a new tension in him, an unease he wouldn’t voice.

“She left us,” Damian said one night, his tone sharp but brittle. “That’s on her.”

“No,” Dick said quietly, guilt heavy in his voice. “It’s on us.”

Bruce found you three weeks later, living in a modest apartment far from the grandeur of Wayne Manor. The door was locked, but that had never been an obstacle for him. He let himself in, his imposing frame filling the doorway as you stood frozen in the kitchen.

“Bruce,” you said, your voice tight.

“Come home.” His tone was soft but firm, the same voice he used to give orders in the field.

Your laugh was bitter, hollow. “Home? That place hasn’t felt like home in years.”

His jaw tightened, the only sign of his frustration. “You belong there. With me. With them.”

“I belonged there once,” you said, your voice breaking. “But I spent years trying to love a family that couldn’t love me back. Do you even realize how much it hurt, Bruce? To be invisible in my own home?”

He stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate. “I didn’t see it. I should have. But I’m here now.”

“Too late,” you whispered, tears spilling over.

But Bruce Wayne was not a man who gave up easily. His hand reached out, brushing against yours. “You think I’ll let you go that easily?” His voice dropped, a dangerous edge slipping into his tone. “You’re mine. You always have been.”

You pulled away, shaking your head. “You don’t love me, Bruce. You love control. You love having someone waiting for you. But I won’t be that person anymore.”

The silence between you was heavy, suffocating. His eyes bore into yours, and for a moment, you thought he might let you go. But Bruce was nothing if not persistent.

“You’re coming home,” he said, his voice soft but unyielding.

Before you could respond, his hand shot forward, pressing a syringe into your arm. The sharp sting was followed by a wave of dizziness, and your legs buckled.

“Bruce,” you gasped, your vision swimming as he caught you.

“It’s for your own good,” he murmured, his arms cradling you as darkness pulled you under.

(A/n: this is why I don't take money 😅 writing shi asf 😔🔥 chat did I cook or am I cooked?)

[clockwayswrites]

Bitty Birdy Bit Part 21

Masterpost CW: mild body horror

Tim watched as under Danny’s shirt and sweater his body started to distort.

It would be the wings, Tim realized. Danny was becoming that bird creature again. The wings, the talons, the eyes… Tim met Danny’s eyes in the gleaming reflection of the elevator doors.

Immediately, Danny ducked his head, clasping his clawed hands behind the back of his neck as he curled in on himself as if trying to make himself look smaller and less threatening.

“I won’t hurt you,” Danny whispered. The voice seemed to echo around the elevator as if coming from all directions. “I know this is—I promise. I won’t hurt you, I’d never hurt you. I’m not—”

“Tch. Of course you wouldn’t,” Damian said casually. “You are protecting us.”

“I’m trying,” Danny said, the words pleading.

Danny stumbled suddenly against the wall of the elevator.

His bit back a scream was dissonant against the ding of the elevator reaching the subbasement.

Tim grabbed Damian’s arm as he started forward.

Wings—brilliant white wings marred with spots of black tore finally through the shirt, pushed through sweater, and erupted into the space.

There was a metallic screeching and it took Tim an embarrassedly long moment to realize that it was the escape hatch on tip of the elevator being pried open.

Danny’s wings blocked Tim’s view, pushing him backwards. “Get to the safe room!”

“Dr. Fenton—Danny—”

“Now Tim. Keep your brother safe. I’ll be right behind you,” Danny lied.

“No! We will not be leaving you—” Damian protested, trying to pull his arm free of Tim’s hold.

“He doesn’t know,” Tim hissed into Damian’s ear.

Damian stopped struggling; he was almost pliant as Tim pulled him back towards the safe room that was besides the hidden access to more Bat related things. And fuck if Tim didn’t want so badly to go left instead and through the hidden door so that they could come back as Robins and help Danny.

Instead he stepped inside the safe room.

Damian stood beside him. “I will never forgive you if he dies.”

“I know.”

Tim wouldn’t forgive himself either.

[writella]

Fuckin’ Favorite

Synopsis: Whose the fairest of them all? It’s you. It’s always been you. Negan’s prepared to let each one of his wives know just that tonight.

— or: Oh Lord, does Negan love his fuckin’ favorite wife!

Details: Negan Smith x fem!reader, smut— fingering, thigh riding, and penetration without protection; reader at the Sanctuary, “wife”!reader, guilty!reader because when am I not feeling guilty for wanting Negan, Negan being rude in one small part, I’m pretty sure I changed the layout of the wives quarters from the show, and a fuck load of ‘fucks’ from Negan. Mostly proofread. wc: 2.2k.

A/N: I mostly get right to it, so buckle up! And if you like this one, check out this daydream I wrote because I think it’s really cute.

—with love from writella ♡

He comes in without a knock.

The door, though brittle as it is, slams shut. The metal and leather of his jacket clink and slap as his back pounds against it. He has no care that he could break the door, or for the noise and late hour of his arrival.

This was his house. His rules.

“Good evenin’, sweetheart.”

If it wasn’t for that slight twang in his accent, or that wiley look that punctuates the end of his sentences, making everything he says just as comical as unsettling, it would have sounded more like a, Hello, Clarice— nonetheless, you still hold your breath.

“It’s half past ten,” you decide to say, looking down, making sure you don’t sound too sarcastic or displeased with his appearance. It’s just that you hated it when he came to your room, especially when all the other girls were right outside in the common room or in their bedrooms that neighbored yours. You much rather go to his room if you have to. It’s quiet and separate from the rest of the habitants of the Sanctuary. He could be as loud as he wanted— even though he always was anyway— but that would mostly be for you— so you didn’t have to feel so ashamed.

“Well would you prefer a Hey, sexy. Strip down. Ass up. then? Just get right to it?” You say nothing. “Cause I could.” Negan tilts his head sideways with a slight grin, his forehead protruding forward as he tries to find your eyes. All he sees is cheeks starting to flush, an embarrassed shake of your head, and eyes that stay stuck on your black ballerina flats.

You were sitting on the rear of your bed, only looking up sometimes. Recently, you were trying to get better with eye contact. You wanted to show that you’re not afraid of him anymore. It was supposed to be a silent statement that he wasn’t fooling you and that you weren’t softening up to him. That you know what this is, who he is; you’re cognizant of what he does to you, to the others girls, to people outside these walls. But, this didn’t work. No matter if you were looking down or up, you could never seem to get rid of that deer in the headlights look— The Roadkill Stare or The Corpse’s Bride as Negan called it— wide and bewildered, like he was going to run you over. Sometimes it made him feel sad. That there were moments where he could see you trying to resist your natural instinct to flinch when he comes near. But other times, it made him feel powerful. Not the fact that he scared you, but that he could see what was underneath it— that you were scared of yourself. He knows you like him. He knows from the way your face slightly twists as you suppress your snickers and smiles at his jokes when you two are alone, or when he makes fun of Simon for yet another one of his bad attempts at acting like him; when you think you’re doing well at maintaining that timid Tim Burton eyed version of a poker face. He knows you’re not completely scared of him, at least not anymore. Little by little, he’s learning to clock the nuances of your expressions: he sees how your eyes trail his body when he undresses in front of you, or the way you follow him as he walks to talk to this person or that, how you’re acutely aware of when and how he moves, your eyes flickering towards his hands before he gestures with them. It’s like you know too. As if you see his underneath the way he can for you. You’re becoming as familiar as he is.

He’s aware.

You can’t fool him any longer.

“Get up for me.” It’s a soft command said in his darkened voice. On instinct, you oblige. This is how it is. He walks closer, his fingertips lightly brushing slowly down your shoulder until he reaches your waist. He grabs you quick and close on both sides, pulling you straight against him. You gasp, arms swinging back slightly, back arching against him as he presses you on his lower abdomen and groin. You can feel his breath, and the heat of his intense gaze. “Kiss me.”

Your mouth is agape. Your breath shudders. You’re frozen.

You do nothing.

There you go again, his little fawn bride. If eyes could be any more rounder, symmetrical spheres, they’re yours. He could laugh but he doesn’t. He only repeats himself. Quietly, sternly, “You kiss me first this time.”

You had never done that before.

“Do I gotta say it a third?”

You shake your head. No.

Hesitantly, you reach up, touching his face with ghostlike fingertips, feeling the bristles of his beard as you bring yourself closer. Your lips are light and tentative as you finally press yours on his. For him, it was like being kissed by an angel. It makes him soften up for a moment, tilt your head up higher for you to give you more leverage. He kisses you just as sweetly. His thumb strokes your jaw.

After a few more kisses, you pull back to look at him. You hold his shoulders and he holds you by your waist. Your faces are so close, his eyes could almost be as wide as yours, and for a moment, it all feels so soft and dream-like. But quickly, the iridescence fades: before you realize it, he puts his tongue in your mouth forcefully, making your head roll back. The unexpected shift makes you gasp into his mouth.

He turns you around, slams you again your door. Your tall bureau near it bangs against the wall with you. Some of your folded clothes you had yet to put away and jewelry falls off the top as your head bounces.

Negan’s left hand runs down your body, sliding two fingers down under your dress and over your panties, pressing in at your slit. He finds wetness forming. His fingers make it more pronounced as he creates a wet spot.

“Tell me you want me,” he says as he starts to rub your clit.

You take a shaky breath inwards, covering a small moan.

Negan’s fingers slide inside your underwear and down right into your hole. He pumps slowly three times, never losing eye contact with you and then he takes them out. “Cause I want you,” and he proves it by putting the two fingers in his mouth and licking them clean, wiping his lips afterwards with his tongue. “Tell me you do too.”

Your breath remains heavy. Finally, you whisper, “I want you.”

He spins you around again. His back against the door once more, producing another slam you know all the girls will hear. He raises one of his legs and slots his thigh in between yours. His hands rest on your hips, rocking you against him. It feels good. Your thin cotton panties and bare thighs brushing and rocking against his that are rough and denim clad. You try to resist the urge to make any sounds because of how much you like it. “Tell me you need me.”

This makes you whine. “Can we—” you start to ask— and you can’t believe you’re even going to say it— “Can we just go to your room? Please?” Oh God, what would everyone at Alexandria think? They’d be so disappointed. They’d hate you. The wives have never been mean, they accepted you, understood your condition more than anyone else, but where you only had very educated guesses of what everyone at home would think of you, you had a stone hard fact of how the other girls were starting to see you. Their eyes could not lie as much as yours: you felt women’s growing glares of silent resentment whenever you were seen with Negan. He was more forgiving with you; never got too nasty about your habit of not speaking when you’re spoke to; he was gentle with his touch when others were watching; never made you hang out with any of the other men if you didn’t want to; and he talked to you, communicated more. They saw it. They knew it. They figured you were more in the know about things outside the Sancutary than they were. You tried to use it to keep them informed as well, as a way to preserve what little favor you had left, but now look at you, ruining it all as they’re forced to listen. Not only submitting to whatever he may do to you, but asking to change the location before it begins.

“No. You get me here or not at all.” You knew he wasn’t lying. His voice was stern. He looked you in the eye even if you weren’t looking back, you felt it. It told you that he wouldn’t budge, not even a little. “And you can sleep in those panties if that’s the case.”

You stay silent for a moment. Eyes peering into his wishing just your look could say it all. “Negan…” you whisper.

“Yes, baby?”

“I- I need you.”

In an instant, Negan pushes you off of him. His hands go to the ends of your dress and pull it off of you with your arms and hair flying.

“Take it off,” he demands after he throws you down on your bed.

You feet kick off your flats and you raise your hips to discard your panties, never losing sight of him as he rips off his jacket, unbuckles his belt, and crosses his arms to get rid of his shirt. You loved the look of his years-faded tattoos against his tan skin and the curves of his light muscles when he raises his arms.

You’re in a trance, not seeing that he sees that you’re doing it again. Bambi eyes trailing him down. It’s every time you guys do this. And fuck, you must think he’s sexy. He loves it. Because he knows he’s fucking sexy. He knows that pretty girls like you will always come around. You just can’t help it. His grin is as wide as your eyes because of it.

Negan is hard and he wastes no time. He’s been thinking about claiming you all day. He hooks his hands under your knees as you lay with your back flat on the bed.

Negan lines himself against you and immediately starts to piston himself inside of you, never completely pulling out. Your breast shake as his thrusts keep pushing you back. You felt like you were vibrating.

He is obsessed with this angle. Getting to see your face scrunch and twist and contort. Getting to hear your heavy pants and sighs. Getting to feel the squeeze of your pussy and he continues to push inside you fast, fast, fast.

And he’s mesmerized by your breast. The continuous bounce of your perky tits that were now his. He wants his mouth on them, he wants his dick between them, but for now he’ll just watch them jump and spring— it’s just as sexy to him. He might even have to cancel all of tomorrow's plans just to watch them fly all day like this.

Your head turns to your left side and you catch yourself in your full length mirror— the view is from head to the top of your waist. You see your left tit bouncing along with your head and stomach as Negan keeps pushing into it with no relent. Instantly you moan at the sight. Your hand swings to your face right after, your eyes closing shut.

Negan rips your fingers from off your mouth. “No,” he warns. “I know you like it—” you whine when he says that— “Stop hiding it. Look at yourself or I’ll stop.”

You don’t open them.

He stops.

“You gonna fuckin’ listen?”

Slowly, you ynclose your scrunched eyes, seeing yourself and your parted lips again.

“Good girl.” And then, Negan starts splitting you open again, making you shake. The sudden movement makes you moan, “oh- uh.”

“Tell me you want it.”

You don’t resist anymore. You continue to look at yourself in the mirror as you say, “I want it.”

“Tell me you need it.”

Your head turns to watch where your body connects with his. “Ohmygod, I need it.”

He growls as he follows your gaze, voice strained and rough like he’s going to punch something as he repeats, thrusting faster, “Tell me you fucking need it.”

“I need it.” Then you moan, “Negan, please!” You chant, “Please. Please, Negan, I need it!”

“You need it, baby?” He jeers. “You want me to give it to ya?”

You nod as you whine, tears almost coming out. Your breasts still bounce for him and you love it as much as you hate it. “Yes, Negan.”

“You know what I came in here to do, baby?”

You’re still whining, you're practically incoherent. His little fuck doll. All you can say is his name.

“Look at me when I tell you.”

Your eyes go up to his. Watching him as he continues to pump into you. You see how his body vigorously shakes in unison with yours. His skin and his pushing up and down, in and out, as he makes your body jump.

“I came in here,” he starts, losing his breath and trying not to falter from his thrusts as his face places itself above yours, “To show every single bitch in the goddamn house that you’re mine. And that you’re the only fuckin’ one.” You respond with only sex-filled sounds. You’re close to exploding. Your body still jumps along with his. Your bouncing breasts rubbing against his pex as he commands, “Tell me you want me to do it. You want me to make you come.”

As always, though this time it was because you were on the verge of losing all control, you give no answer.

His words bite at your parted lips as he repeats, “Tell me!” And he slaps the side of your ass.

The pang forces you to speak: “I want you to do it Negan please!”

Negan rises. His mouth circles as he moans. He holds your hips now, raising them off the bed as he pumps into your harder. “Say it again.”

“Do it, Negan, please. Please make me come.” With each word ending in moaning pants as you repeats, “Please- Please- Please- Please- Please-”

“Oh fuck,” his gutteral voice rasps and roars for all to hear. Your absolute submission brings him closer to the edge. He smiles widely knowing he’s about to come so hard in that tiny pussy of yours. “OH FUCKIN LORD,” he laughs, knowing he has the whole floor’s attention, not caring a single bit how any of it sounds. “GOD DAMN. THAT’S FUCKIN RIGHT. IM GONNA MAKE MY PRETTY LITTLE FUCKIN WIFE FUCKIN COME BECAUSE SHE’S- MY FUCKIN’- FAVORITE.”

[nosyrobin]

WATERBORNE

SUMMARY: a young waterbender who appears in Gotham gets the attention of a few birds a big bat. But one bird seems more interested than the others. Leaving them to be captured.

PAIRS||Yandere! Tim drake & Platonic Yandere!Batfam x Waterbender!Reader

“Nah fuck that!” Y/n yells, they immediately arises both of their arms. Water moves with the flow of his arms in the sewer. A figure with a big blue on his chest steps back. Eyes widen at rings of water surrounding the small bender. “You’re not taking me alive dick head!” Nightwing, aka Dick Grayson, nervously chuckles while putting his hands up.

“Aw cmon, how did you know my name—”

Immediately the vigilante gets hit with a wave of water, knocked onto his back by the pressure. Nightwing soon sits up coughing, shocked by the pressure knocking him back a few feet. He hasn’t even notice the hydro power house had taken off before he shook his head. Y/n, running with only an over coat and work out sneakers. They didn’t wish for these powers, they didn’t wish to be found. They didn’t wish to be anyone’s obsession! Nightwing finally got his bearings minutes later. “Damnit..” Nightwing puts two fingers to his ear, pressing down he talks.

“They’re on the run again. Tim it’s your turn.” Nightwing opened up a hologram map of the tunnels from his forearm.

“Got it.” Says another voice.

And that was Tim drake, aka Red Robin. Tim nods at the sound coming from his coms. He also had his map up as he readied his bow staff. It was electrified on the tip of it, ready to stun the young bender. He stopped pulling the map up when hearing loud footsteps and heavy breathing.

Tim grips his bow staff, leaning Against the side wall, he gets ready to swing only for him to drop his staff. He dropped it with a loud clank! There stood the hydro power house, y/n. Y/n had anger in their eyes as the other was engulfed by a hand shaped of water. Y/n held one hand out. “Won’t you damn people leave me alone?!” Tim tries to get out of the water, only for it to tighten. “I don’t know what you want from me, but I’m in no need for help. I don’t need anyone! I don’t need you, or anything!”

Tim frowns, he knew the water bender needed help. He looked about his age. Seventeen. Y/n look fatigue, not enough on their bones, messy hair, baggy eyes with reddish eyes. Before Tim could speak, he couldn’t even try.

Instantly the water bender swung their hand harshly, making Tim hit the other side of the tunnel harshly. A crack was dented there with Tim’s body. The young boy fell onto his stomach, groaning in pain. He tries to stand before gushes of water hits him, over, and over again.

“Leave. Me. Alone!” Y/n swung their hand, it was a undertossing motion as if throwing back a baseball. Y/n kept walking towards their enemy, each swing gets harsher and harsher. Tim tries to take a deep breath, but he’s practically drowning. He lays unconscious now, y/n breaths heavily. Their arms weak, sore, tired. His breathing starts to slow down, but not in the way he wants.

He leans against a wall, balling up his hands.

“Why..why am I so tired. My eyes, they’re heavy. What the hell??”

Y/N’s vision is slowly turning black, not noticing Tim standing up. Smiling widely as he walks towards the drugged water bender. “I see the narcotic worked.” Y/n tried to move their dominant arm, only to just stay limp. “What…did you do to me..”

Tim frowns, leaning towards the waterbender. “What I had to do. You need my help. You need me.” A sick grin reaches the boy’s face as Tim cups the hydro’s face. Y/n glare harshly at Tim who could only smile.

“You.. you and your damn hero complex! You should drown, drown like anyone that dare try to capture me!” Anger filled y/n’s soul. But Tim ignored it, seeing this aggression as a result of not being able to save them earlier. Tim frowns and lifts y/n over his shoulder.

“It’s okay. I’m here now, The others and Batman will help you! You won’t need to survive anywhere else.” Tim says lastly as the anesthesia kicks in fully now. Knocked out over the teen boy’s shoulder, the boy couldn’t help but smile more. When his bow staff fell, it released the drug only for you to specifically breathe in. And it worked perfectly, just like Tim knew it would.

You were now, captured.

A/N: Ayo new series? Jk.. or maybe not? Anyone wants this to continue or what? Cause I actually enjoyed writing this

[yoitsjay]

Hey I absolutely LOVE you…….(r) writing style. Do/Can you make a fic about what makes BatBoys feel like “home” with reader? Like relationship wise. If this doesn’t make sense I’m sorry, this m first time making a request 😭✌️. Ty's!

No it makes sense! Thank you for the request!

Like Home

Summary: How you're the batboys home.

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff

Bruce Wayne:

To Bruce Wayne, home isn't a place. Its you.

Typically Bruce is wary of genuine, committed relationships, his kids definitely warned him about people dating him just for his money, but when he met you, right off the bat you were so different.

From the moment you rushed to pay for dinner before Bruce could was the moment he knew he wanted you.

Home to Bruce is waking up in the morning with you still fast asleep in his arms, lips parted slightly as soft snores escape your lips. Home to him is holding you from behind as you cook breakfast for everyone instead of Alfred.

Home to him is holding you close as he- (we won't finish that sentence)

you, and all the things you do, big or small, mean the world to him, and he wants things to stay like this forever…

Dick Grayson:

Home to Dick Grayson is freedom, or it was until he met you.

He had bumped into you in a coffee shop and you were in a pretty heated argument with one of the other patrons there, defending an elderly lady who was only just trying to buy coffee.

When the guy had raised his hand to you, Dick was about to step in and stop the fight, only to see you deflect the blow, twist the mans wrist and pin him to the wall within seconds.

After that he had to ask for your number.

Then on patrol the following evening, a new hero arrived in gotham, someone oddly familiar to him.

You and Dick started working together on patrol, and in person too, since you had been one of the new interns at Wayne Enterprises, so it was a good excuse to see you more often. Though you both had no idea about each others identities until one really rough battle… and to make a long story short you ended up in his apartment, kissing him when you had accidentally knocked his mask off.

“Dick!?”

You ended up revealing yourself that night, too, and after that, you and Dick started dating. Being with you, fighting alongside you, and cherishing freedom quickly changed to cherishing you, wanting you to be his forever. You became something he wanted to come back to alive every night… and that was good enough for him.

Jason Todd:

You had always been his home. From the moment you met Jason as kids, he always loved you, cared for you, and you did the same.

When he died you were broken, you mourned for who knows how long, and everyone knew that your spark had died along with Jason.

When he came back, you were stunned.

You had just gotten home from work, and noticed your living room window wide open, and in the room itself stood a large man.

You wasted no time in attacking. Jason and you trained together as kids, and after his death you continued training under Bruce and Dick, so you liked to think you were pretty good.

But for some reason your intruder wasnt hitting you back.

He only fell to his knees and he hugged your waist tightly.

“I’m home- im home- im so sorry-” He whispered, and you froze.

“Jason…?”

“Im home baby, im not leavin’ you again”

you both cried, for a while probably, but despite the tears, the trauma he revealed to you, you did nothing but comfort and love him, and hold him close as he cried into your chest about how much he missed you.

he found his home in you a long time ago… “If only i hadnt been so reckless, i would have never lost you-”

“you didnt lose me Jason, ive been here, waiting for the time i could see you again… it came alot sooner… Screw you Thalia Al Ghul, and thank you for bringing my Jason back to me”

Tim Drake:

You had Tim had been dating for a few years at this point, it had been more on the arranged side, Your father and Bruce were really close friends, and they had agreed after finding out that you and Tim were the same age and both single, that you two had to at least meet, and talk and get to know each other.

You agreed, Tim was more reluctant.

Turns out you and him were already friends. You had been close in High School, though you both never revealed much about your family lives, so being rich in Gotham kind of flew under the radar.

You and Tim both laughed about it over lunch, though in that time you really started to get to know each other. Had you always been so beautiful?

After a little bit, he asked you out officially. You said yes, and your relationship evolved into something he couldn't ever give up. Similar to Bruce, he found comfort in the littlest things. The way you held him ran your fingers through his hair and made his shoulders sag in relaxation. That was home to him.

Damian Wayne:

Damian Wayne hated you.

he despised you, and you had no idea why.

You were Alfred’s niece, and after your parents had died you had come to gotham to stay with Alfred since he had become your legal guardian.

You tried to mind your own business, you helped alfred clean, became a maid of sorts to earn your keep, even though Bruce, more than once assured you that you didnt need to worry. You still did.

Damian took advantage of that and took advantage of the whole maid aspect, you did a lot for that guy and yet, he despised you.

Then he found out that you had been asked out on a date by someone from Gotham Academy, a school you both went too.

“You’re not allowed.”

Damian stated as he walked up to you in the manor, and you looked over from where you were cleaning. “Huh?” You questioned, unsure as to what he was talking about.

“Your not allowed to go on a date with that child. Your my girlfriend now.” Damian stated, and your eyes went wide.

You kinda… just couldnt say no.

after that Damian started treating you a lot nicer, he did a lot of small things for you, payed attention to the things you looked at or liked, and more often then not, the same item would be on your bed.

he found comfort in the things you did for him, and you had no idea, but he treated you like dog shit because of his fat crush on you.

what… The… fuck.

Tag list:

All: @only-my-unexistent-fiances @francesfarhadi

Batfam:

Bruce Wayne: @ilaiise

Dick Grayson: @ilaiise

Jason Todd: @ilaiise

Tim Drake: @ilaiise

Damian Wayne: @ilaiise

[help-itrappedmyself]

Dead on Main AU 3

Masterpost

So this one is a bit longer, but that's because part of it is the same phone conversation from the other side.

~~~~~

“Road trip!” Dick calls out. All of the- siblings(?)-younger people start to scramble before Bruce calls out for them to stop.

“This is going to be a 12 hour drive one-way, which means we won't be back until dinner tomorrow at the earliest. Not all of you can go.” This causes a lot of frowns and Danny holds in a chuckle. They start arguing over why they should be able to go and Bruce pinches his nose, right between his eyes as they shout at him.

“First and Foremost, I do believe that Masters Duke, Damian, and Stephanie have school tomorrow.” Alfred inserts. Everyone quiets to listen to him, Danny notes. Everyone else they’ll talk over, he must be important, be extra nice to him.

The three must sigh and sit back down at the table. 

“Cass, if you wouldn’t mind staying to keep them out of trouble overnight. I’m sure Alfred will see them out to school.”

Cass shrugs, then signs at Dick who responds “Of course!” Danny hadn’t realized that she was speaking sign language this whole time.

Bruce then turns to face Dick and Tim. “You have absolutely no way to keep us from coming.” Dick sing-songs.

“You both have work tomorrow.”

“Actually, Dick and I called out ten minutes ago, family emergency.” Tim shrugs. “We won’t be in for a few days unless things change.”

“Alright, go grab your things.” They both whoop and you can just tell they were both about to start running when they catch eyes with Alfred and just start walking really fast. “Pack light, and grab some changes of clothes for Jason!”

Before they can leave a phone starts ringing. They all look around before all eyes settle back on Danny. He feels around his pockets for where the phone is, before pulling it out and seeing his own number on the caller ID.

“Oh, it’s me!” Danny hurries to pick up as he hears someone mutter “Why didn’t we think of that?” from the table. Dick and Tim are almost immediately right next to him as he mumble out a hello.

“Um, hello, Jason?”

“Yeah, this is Jason. You with my family?” His heart thumps when he hears his own voice coming out the other side of the phone. It somehow makes the whole situation seem a bit more real then it did before.

“If the people that were in the room with you before are your family. I really only have confirmation that one of them is your dad.”

“Hey, we’re his family”

“We’re all his brothers and Cass is his sister.”

“Have those motherfuckers not even introduced themselves?” 

So much talking at once, Danny tries to focus on his own voice coming through the phone. It’s a little deeper than it usually is, gruffer and lilted like it’s trying to talk in an accent the mouth isn’t familiar with shaping. Danny supposes the voice he’s speaking with now must be doing the same.

“Sort of. Eventually.” Jason sighs loud enough to hear over the phone and Danny chuckles at the response. 

“Right, well your name is Danny right?”

“Yeah! Have you talked to my family yet?” They were all home the last he checked, and Jazz usually tells him before she heads out. 

“No, haven’t left your room. Your name was on your homework though.”

“Oh, please do not judge the homework.” Danny rubs a hand down his face just thinking of that - his homework- being his soulmate's first real impression of him. 

“Didn’t even look at that part. So, I’m assuming that you guys are coming to me?”

Danny shakes off the embarrassment “I think so?” 

“Of course we are!”,  “Was he not paying any attention as we decided who should go?”, “We were just planning.” There are so many people talking at once again.

 Danny pulls his face away from the phone and turns to the room at large “Stop it, buzz off!”. He turns to face a wall and takes a few steps away.  “They said yes.”

“Please tell me they’re not all planning on coming.”

Danny hums, focused on something else. “Look, I do need to warn you…” what if he goes ghost, can he go ghost with Jason in his body? What are his parents working on today? “ about a few things actually. Jazz, my sister, her room is across the hall and she’ll be able to help you if you. I sort of have… like a medical condition. I would rather explain that to you in person, but she’ll watch out for you if you go meet her.”

“I can do that. Anything I should look out for?” Weird ice mist coming out of your mouth would be pretty unexplainable at the moment, but random things shooting at him can be avoided!

“My parents leave all kinds of weapons around the house, and sometimes they’ll target me-you- at random, so try not to touch anything, and either stay upstairs or have my sister take you somewhere in town. Whatever you do, don’t go in the basement, the lab is down there.” Almost everything in that lab is to be avoided, although since he is already in Danny’s body he shouldn’t be bothered by the potential radiation.

“Kid, what?” 

“This is really an in-person talk.”

Danny does not know how he would explain this over the phone, with a room of eavesdroppers behind him. Although they’ve become respectfully quiet, more whispers than anything now. 

“Sure, okay. Find Jazz, preferably leave the house.”

“Yep!” That would be best, Jazz will definitely help him. “Is there anything I should know?”

“Shit, if I had time I would give you a warning about everyone in my family individually, but for now… I don’t know if this will translate over…” It will, but there’s really no way to explain that. “I have… I guess it’s sort of a health condition as well. My family knows what triggers it, and they should be on their best behavior right now anyways, but if you wouldn’t mind putting someone on the phone I can threaten them properly.”

Danny laughs and puts the phone on speaker before calling out to the room, “You’re on speaker!” so everyone in the room knows as well as Jason. 

“I swear to god if any of you scare him, hurt him, or anything I’m going to kill you. I know everything you love and if you don’t act normal, just know, it will be destroyed.”

“Yeah, yeah. Jay, this is your soulmate!” Dick has bounded back over to Danny, right up in the personal space. 

“Also, most of us love you so that threat doesn’t work as well as you think it does.” Steph yells from the table, where she continued eating at some point.

“Bitch, I died once, I’ll do it again. Don’t test me on this right now.”

Danny starts laughing so hard he doesn’t register everyone else in the room having frozen at the outburst.

“Oh, wow, same.” Danny gets out once he can breathe again.

The room is staring at him again, but they seem to do that a lot.

“You must be Jazz.” They hear coming through the phone. “I’m Jason.”

“Jazz!” Danny calls out. 

“Danny would like to talk to you.” There’s a small shuffle. 

“Danny?”

“Hey, Jazz! So, apparently I’m the younger, so today’s the day. I’m with his family right now.”

“You have a plan? Are you coming home?”

“Yeah, just. Would you mind keeping an eye on Jason until I get there? It’s going to be a long drive so could you make sure nothing shoots him and that he gets edible food?”

“I’ll take him to Nasty for dinner, don’t worry.” Danny sighs in relief, he knew Jazz would help, but he did not need his soulmate food fighting with dinner.

“Sounds good, he’s in my body so he shouldn’t really be poisoned but Mom and Dad still can’t really cook. Speaking of which! He is in my body so if anything happens with the, um, medical condition, help him through that as well.”

“Of course, Danny.”

“Thanks Jazz! We were just deciding who was coming along, but apparently, it's about a 12-hour drive? So, you guys won’t see us until tomorrow.”  There’s a lot unspoken in this conversation, but Danny knows she’ll do her best. “Try not to interrogate him, and no psychoanalyzing!”

[celaenaeiln]

JL: Nightwing! It’s a delight to see you! You should come by more often.

Nightwing: Thank you! I’m so sorry, work has been piling up on me but I’ll try to drop by the office party this Sunday.

JL: Ofcourse! Looking forward to seeing you there. By the way, is Batman coming late?

Nightwing: No, I’ll be filling in for him today.

JL: Did something happen?

Nightwing: Nothing much, he’s just grounded.

JL: ???

48 hours earlier

Dick: Bruce, I’m telling you now and we’ve had this conversation before but you need to build a better rapport with your children. They look up to you as a father figure and your actions influence their behavior.

Bruce: …hmrgh

Dick: And you might not be aware but you unconconscious behavior is damaging. Tim has picked up your terrible habit of constantly working in front of a screen-it’s going to strain his eyes. He’s always inside too, so you need to make him go outside more. I’m not always here, I have an entire city to run, the titans need me, I'm mentoring hundreds of heroes, the Justice League calls on me to help them, and I need to keep up with my social life. The people in Bludhaven where I teach and work also call me if I’m gone for a day-the point is-I can’t always be playing second parent here in Gotham.

Bruce: ……hmrgh

Dick: Damian always looks up to you

Bruce: *side eyes*

Dick: He does! See you don’t even realize it! He wants to make you proud and Jason gets mad when you don’t make time for him because he cares too. Stephanie doesn’t have a dad she can turn to and it would mean the world to her if you took her out to an amusement park or something. When was the last time you spent time with her.

Bruce: ….hmrgh

Dick: And-

1 hour later

Dick: -that’s why you need to stop working, go to them right now, and bond with them.

Bruce:

Dick:

Bruce: ……...hmrgh

Dick: I’m waiting.

Bruce: *dragging himself off the batcave chair and begrudgingly trudging upstairs under Dick’s watchful eye*

Bruce: *listening to the sounds of his kids in the living room and pumping himself up* Better relationships mean better teamwork. Better relationships mean better teamwork. Better relationships mean better teamwork. And Dick. Do it for him.

Bruce: *entering* *clearing his throat* Children. We will be going-

*The living room is in utter chaos. The cushions are strewn and ripped with stuffing coating the couches and floor which for some reason is stained yellow, the flower vase is shattered and so is the table it was sitting on, there’s string confetti on the chandelier, there’s spray paint and neon goo across the walls and in Tim’s hair, Jason has deep claw marks down his face as he wrestles with Damian who’s sporting massive bruise on his cheek and trying his hardest to bite him, Stephanie is dunking Tim’s face in a tub of soda which splashed everywhere while he’s ripping out Jason’s hair and also trying to kick Damian with his foot, the tv has massive spiderwebs and looping on tellatubies like a broken record machine, Titus is spitting out a feather while a random goose runs around honking while Alfred the cat chases after it at full speed, knocking down decades old paintings.*

Bruce:

Bruce:

Bruce:

Bruce: *rolling up his sleeves and stomping forward to join the fight* HMRGH.

[luv-lock]

Who do you think would cry/throw up/MURDER first if Pervert!Spider Reader tried rizzing up Thalia or Rhas Al Ghul?

1. Damian: Murder Mode Activated

Damian would 100% be the first to lose it. Seeing you even remotely flirt with his mother or grandfather would flip his already short fuse.

If it’s Talia, he’d go full-on angry bird mode, glaring daggers at you while sputtering, “YOU INSOLENT WOMAN! HAVE YOU NO SHAME?!” before likely drawing his katana.

If it’s Ra’s, he’d genuinely threaten you, saying something like, “You’ve gone too far. I’ll end this madness myself,” while trying to intimidate you with his deadliest glare (which you’d probably find adorable).

No amount of kisses or teasing would calm him down immediately. He’d probably need Jason to hold him back.

2. Jason: Punches a Wall (and Maybe You)

Jason would go straight into rage and denial mode, particularly if you started sweet-talking Ra’s. You jokingly tell Ra's, "You've got a whole 'silver fox with a kingdom' vibe going on. Very attractive," and Jason snaps.

"Oh, hell no. This wrinkly bastard doesn't get to breathe the same air as you!"

He'd unload an entire clip at Ra's while dragging you behind him protectively.

“You’re flirting with the Demon’s Head?! ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!”

If it’s Talia, he’d be equally furious but also extra petty. “Oh, so you’re into hot assassins now? Great. Guess I’m not enough for you,” he’d grumble while trying not to visibly sulk.

Despite his anger, there’s a 50% chance Jason might step in to challenge Ra’s directly, because he refuses to be shown up.

3. Dick: Throws Up in the Corner

Dick would probably cry and throw up first, especially if you flirted with Talia.

He’d be heartbroken, looking at you with those big, sad puppy-dog eyes. “Why would you do this? I thought we had something special,” he’d say dramatically, clutching his chest like he’s in a soap opera.

If it’s Ra’s, he’d look physically ill. “You’re flirting with a literal centuries-old warlord?! What’s wrong with you?” he’d exclaim, pacing in disbelief while the others try to calm him down.

4. Tim: Overthinks Himself into Oblivion

Tim wouldn’t react physically but would go into full mental meltdown mode. Poor boy is so emotionally fragile when it comes to you. Seeing you openly flirt with either Talia or Ra's would break him completely.

He’d probably mutter something like, “Wait, are you doing this as a joke? Or do you actually like them? Is this part of some elaborate plan I missed?” while spiraling into paranoia.

You casually compliment Ra's on his tailored robes, and Tim, who's watching from the Batcomputer, starts hyperventilating. "She... she doesn't mean it. Right? She's just messing around. RIGHT?!" Then he bolts to the nearest bathroom. If it was Talia? He'd straight-up faint from the stress.

Tim would definitely research ways to counteract the Lazarus Pit just in case you’re actually serious.

He’d also probably cry a little, but only in private.

5. Bruce: Quietly Contemplates Murder

Bruce wouldn’t react immediately. Instead, he’d sit there in silence, arms crossed, radiating pure disappointment.

“Ra’s Al Ghul? Really?” he’d say in that deep, gravelly voice, making you laugh even harder.

If it’s Talia, he’d rub his temples and mutter, “I’ve dealt with a lot from you, but this… this is a new low.”

He wouldn’t say anything outright, but the tension in the Batcave afterward would be suffocating.

The Aftermath:

Damian would sulk for days and try to “punish” you during training by going extra hard.

Jason would get over it by pretending it never happened, but he’d glare at Ra’s every chance he got.

Dick would be clingier than ever, needing constant reassurance that he’s still your favorite.

Tim would probably never trust you around the League of Assassins again.

Bruce? He’d just pray to whatever deity he believes in for patience.

[sea-lanterns]

SILENT HILL

synopsis: (slasher! AU) you travel to an old town to find your missing wife.

featuring: dehya

rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)

warnings: sub! afab fem reader (though she becomes more bold later on), dom! character who gets more subby later on, mentions of blood, reader is grieving, reader gets chased, transfem! dehya (she has a di.ck), fing.ering, unprotected se.x, cream.pie, masked se.x, size difference, size ki.nk, lap se.x, reader passes out, probably ooc, heavy pwp.

art credits: gokurakugai

It had been a while since you last came to this town. Through the thick fog and semi-chilly air, you took a deep breath and let your body relax after the long car ride. You had finally arrived at the small town that plagued your thoughts for months; Silent Hill…a quiet and eerie town that was the root cause of your recent sleepless nights, after you had mysteriously received a letter from your long deceased wife telling you to come here. 

You looked down at the faded envelope in your hand, the handwriting of your wife; Dehya, was unmistakable to a grieving widow such as yourself. Though it had been three years since she disappeared and “died” of unknown causes, you knew you had to come here. If your wife was still out there, still alive somehow and living in this rickety old town, then you would drive any distance just to see her again. 

Slamming your car door shut, you began making your way towards the town on a dimly lit path. Whether this was a hoax or not, you were clinging onto that string of hope that it was somehow real. After all, this town was known for its conspiracy theories and stories of cults and rituals. If any place were to have things that defied death and logic, it would be here.  

The town of Silent Hill was an ugly one. It was hard to feel any semblance of hope when everything was cloaked in a blurry gray. You had forgotten how mundane it was to live here, the residents of Silent Hill always appearing depressed or anxious. You felt a shiver go down your spine when a possum scurried across the road, so close to your feet and making you stumble. 

“Dehya–!” you stopped yourself before you could finish your sentence, shock coursing through your body when you remembered Dehya wasn’t with you anymore. Whenever the slightest of things scared you, you would always call her name and she’d come running to comfort you and defend you from anything. But now she isn't here by your side…

‘Oh…’ Your shock disappeared and replaced itself with grief, wanting nothing more than to run into your wife’s arms again and have her hold you close. You closed your eyes and remembered how bright her smile was, a motivator to why you were here in the first place, before carrying on towards the gloomy motel where you’d be staying for the foreseeable future. 

After checking in with the motel clerk and moving your bags in with you, you settled down in your room and plopped down on the bed. This motel was severely outdated, the hideously patterned wallpaper peeling off the walls, the ceilings stained with something yellow and questionable, if your wife were here, she’d tell you “at the very least I’m here with you!”

You felt yourself crack a small smile at the memory, loving how positive she was no matter the circumstance. 

“I might get mold poisoning staying here,” You said to no one in particular, almost like you were trying to talk to Dehya beside you. 

“No you won’t! I won’t let my princess get sick on my watch.”

You could almost hear her laugh as she said that, her chivalrous attitude making you swoon even after all these years. No matter how much time had passed, you would always love how she treated you like a princess. 

“...I’ll save you this time, Dehya.” You said to yourself again, hugging one of the pillows to your chest and snuggling into it. It was far from the softest pillow you’ve ever felt, but during this time of vulnerability, it felt like the most comforting thing in the world. “You don’t have to save me this time. I’m going to find you.” 

With all those years of regret and guilt building up, you let it shrivel away and burn into motivation. This was a lead. One step closer to finding out what happened to your wife, and possibly finding her. 

You closed your eyes and went to bed, exhausted after spending several hours on the road. 

You got up earlier than usual. Usually you would sleep in late on days like these, too depressed to even crawl out of bed, but this time you had a purpose to get up. Your body was already awake before your alarm went off, sliding out of bed and getting dressed to find some answers. 

Even in the mornings, Silent Hill was a town of misery. The sky was still a dull, muted gray, and the air was even chillier than before. You pulled your coat even tighter around your figure, your nose letting out a small sneeze as you stepped into the outside world. 

You would spend the entire day just walking around, asking locals about the whereabouts of your wife, if they’d seen her or even heard of her. You would always be met with a dead end answer, but you wouldn’t give up. That letter was sent to you for a reason, and you were determined to get some closure on your wife if that was the last thing you did. 

The sky began to grow darker the longer you stayed out. Your fingers and your toes were stinging from the pain, almost numb from how cold you were. Your heart felt heavy, your body leaning against a nearby wall to catch your breath from running around town. You were exhausted, but you couldn’t give up. Not now, you still weren’t done. 

Deeper within the alleyway, you heard heavy footsteps, causing you to perk up and immediately regain some stamina. Maybe there was somewhere in there who could help you? You pushed yourself off the wall and began making your way deeper within the alleyway, the street lights turning on and casting the area in a cold, white glow. 

“Uhm…excuse me,” you turned a corner and saw a tall, muscular figure facing away from you, wearing something odd on top of their head. “Can I just have a moment of your time? I am looking for my wife, and…”

You trailed off when the figure slowly turned towards you, wielding what appeared to be a giant blade in their hand, and dressed in a beige, tattered up cloth that revealed most of their muscular figure. The figure had no face, or rather, their face was obscured by a strange, pyramid-looking helmet that sat on their head, looming over you like a great executioner of death. 

“Ah…” You had no idea what you were feeling right now. Shock, fear, confusion? You had no idea who you were looking at either, but at the very least you could discern that they had the figure of a woman. “S-Sorry…I didn’t mean to bother you…” 

What the fuck was that.

Your eyes glanced at the blade in their hand, the light from the streetlight shimmering across it and showing the faint splatters of crimson on the edge. Blood. You gulped and took a step back, the pyramid head figure tilting their head and taking a step forward. 

“I…I will leave now. Goodnight!” You whimpered and immediately began walking away, but your fears quickly caught up to you when the figure started walking towards you as well. 

You continued moving away but she kept getting closer, taking long strides towards you with her long legs. Immediately, you began getting nervous, walking a bit faster before breaking out into a run. 

Well, that was a mistake. Because now the Pyramid Head woman began running after you as well, her heavy footsteps thudding through the street and dragging her rusty blade across the ground. The noise was horrible, a grating sound that made the hairs on your skin prick like needles. You just wanted to find your wife! What were the chances that you’d run into a deranged, monstrous serial killer?!

As you continued running, you let out a shout for help, looking around desperately to see if there was anyone out tonight. Unfortunately for you, it seemed everyone had decided to go home early, all the porch lights turned off and leaving you the only one alive with the woman. 

The grating noise of her blade met your ears again, causing your heart rate to spike like crazy. You began to run your way back to your motel room, but it was on the other side of town and at this point your body began to exhaust. There was a sharp burning sensation in your lungs, the cold air not helping you breathe whatsoever as you felt yourself lose steam. Damn, it had been a while since you ran like you meant it, Dehya did always say you should workout at the gym with her to build some stamina, but you never really took her seriously.  

You definitely regret it now. Your legs buckled and you found yourself collapsing in the midst of another dark alleyway, the pavement scratching up your knees and making you grunt in pain. No matter how hard you tried, your body was tired, cold, and weak. After spending the entire day outside and begging for help, this was your limit. 

You stumbled on your footing and found yourself at the dead end of the alleyway. A large, rusted gate towering over you and cornering you with nowhere else to run. The grating noise of the killer’s blade drew closer and closer, trapping you in the box you’ve locked yourself in. 

“Dehya…” you whimpered, feeling all hope drain away as you scuffled to the edge of the gate, too weak to stand or even attempt to climb the gate for your survival. Was this it? So this was how you’d find your wife, by dying at the hands of a killer and joining her in the afterlife. 

You sniffled and looked up to see the looming Pyramid Head staring down at you, rusted blade in hand and tattered clothing blowing hauntingly in the wind. She looked almost like a ghost, like someone that was not meant to be here but was. The wind continued to howl, the silence between you two almost deafening. 

“...I’m sorry. I just want to find my wife.” You whimpered, still gazing at the Pyramid Head woman. “Is this my punishment for that?”

You were spewing random nonsense at this point. You were so tired and cold, your body shivering and looking like a frail little bunny in the eyes of the Pyramid Head. She tilted her head, almost conveying a unique kind of communication despite her gristley appearance. 

“...”

“...”

Neither of you spoke for a few seconds after that, your head starting to throb and making you wince in pain. You felt so dead at this point, your head feeling heavy as you lowered yourself closer to the ground, looking like a kicked dog. “Dehya…I really wish you were here right now.” You would imagine her protecting you, fiercely telling you to run or standing her ground and being your knight in shining armor. 

“Run baby! I'll protect you!”

You can’t, and you felt the bitter coldness swallow you in. Were you going to die from the killer or hypothermia? You didn’t know anymore at this point. 

Your eyes began to droop, watching as the Pyramid Head walked closer and closer to you. She swung the rusted blade over her shoulder, her hand reaching for your head before your vision blurred and you dropped limp to the ground. 

I’m sorry I couldn’t find you, Dehya. 

Your body felt very, very warm. Was this what heaven felt like? It felt like Dehya cuddling you from behind again, spooning you in her muscular arms and running her hands all over your tummy. You missed this, the feeling of laying with someone so warm and gentle. Perhaps you really were dead and this was your eternal fate, to be cuddled by your lover for the end of time. 

You wouldn’t mind that. However, your other senses began to awaken, telling you that you were merely asleep. Your touch began to come back, the feeling of a soft bed and warmth beneath you. Your hearing began to come back, the sounds of a soft fire crackling in the distance. Taste, smell, you tasted the dryness in your mouth, and inhaled the smell of burning wood and ash. 

Finally, your sight. Though you were initially reluctant to open your eyes, your body did so anyway, letting your eyes land on the rotting ceiling above. Well…this was a sharp contrast to the other sensations you’ve experienced.

Your neck craned to look at the side, your vision still somewhat blurry before focusing on the figure beside you. 

Dehya…? 

You could vaguely make out her long, brown hair and warm smile, joy filling your chest at the familiar sight. 

Dehya…? Dehya…!

You closed your eyes for a brief moment and opened them again, expecting to see your wife more clearly, but instead being greeted with the Pyramid Head woman that chased you before. Instantly, all that joy vanished as quickly as it came, fear and shock filling you and making you hyperventilate. 

“Wha…Wha…!” Your eyes went wide as you gasped for air, the panic settling in that the sight of your wife was a mere hallucination. A delusion.

The Pyramid Head loomed over you, her height absolutely intimidating and making you nearly whimper upon instinct. She was even taller up close, her muscles defined and scars exposed, looking like a modern day Amazonian if you had to describe her…

You scrambled on the bed you were on, backing up against the headboard and looking at the woman in disbelief. Were you going insane? You saw your wife! Why was she here? Why hasn’t she killed you yet? You gasped when she suddenly dropped the blade she was holding, the metal hitting the floor and causing it to echo across the walls. The sound made you flinch, and upon seeing how afraid you were, the Pyramid Head reached her hand over to touch you. 

“No–!” You flinched, but she didn’t move away, a warm, heavy hand cupping your face and holding it firmly. It was quite shocking actually, to see just how large her hands were in comparison to your face, squishing it with ease and making your lips form a cute pout up at her. The Pyramid Head tilted her head to the side, almost as if she was thinking underneath that behemoth of a helmet. 

‘Soft.’ 

Though the Pyramid Head was a quiet one, she couldn’t help but enjoy squishing your face. Despite the biting cold of October, your face held a familiar warmth that the figure could not put her finger on. Strange…she should’ve slaughtered you by now, but it seems like you were the one person that came here to not be punished for their sins. 

Perhaps, it was your desperate attachment for your wife that made the Pyramid Head manifest in a more…loving form. 

“Mmpf…” You attempted to speak, but she held your face in such a grip that your words came out muffled. Upon seeing that you were trying to communicate, she let go, but not before using one of her thumbs to prod at your lips, forcibly making you open your mouth. 

Well, this is very awkward. 

You let out a yelp when she suddenly pushed her thumb into your mouth, brushing over your tongue and seemingly admiring how small it was. Compared to her, everything about you was so much smaller, something that the Pyramid Head seemed to love. She was so confused, tilting her head as she continued sticking her fingers in your mouth, feeling the soft muscle of your inner cheek. 

“Hey–pffck–” You had enough, pushing her hands away and coughing as you wiped the spit from your lips. “You can’t just stick your fingers in someone’s mouth without their consent! That’s weird!” 

You hadn’t expected to raise your voice at this gristly-looking killer, but to your surprise, instead of getting angry and chopping you to bits, the Pyramid Head looked surprised and jostled back, her hands raising in the air as if to prove their innocence. 

That…motion. 

Your eyes widened as a flash of recognition triggered in your memory. Dehya. Now why was that appearing again? There’s no way that this completely coincidental motion would remind you of your wife. Surely not…

But still, there was a gut feeling in your chest, telling you to try again. You looked up at the Pyramid Head with curiosity, before uttering her name hesitantly on your lips. “D…Dehya?” You didn’t expect any results to be honest, but your breath hitched when she tilted her head, almost like she recognized it. “...No, it can’t be.” 

You felt your heart start to thump wildly in your chest, before you had an idea. If this truly was your Dehya, then she would always wear her wedding band on her left hand, engraved with your initials. “Can I see your left hand?” you asked softly, causing the Pyramid Head to oblige almost immediately. Cute, she was almost like an obedient dog. 

She gave you her left hand, shock coursing through your face when you actually saw the wedding band on her finger. Though a bit discolored and dirtied from being in a grim state, you could make out your initials on the front of the band. 

“Oh…my god.” You whispered out, excitement and shock coursing through your veins. “It really is you.” At this point, you didn’t care that your wife appeared as a horrifying killer, as your mind began to close the gaps and find other similarities in the Pyramid Head. Your fear must’ve blocked out all the clues, because as your eyes trailed over most closely, the resemblance –besides her face which was still hidden– was clear. 

You hugged her, your smaller frame clinging to her like a leech while you buried your face in her chest. The Pyramid Head –or rather, Dehya– let out a grunt when you suddenly engulfed her, her large arms instinctively coming around to wrap around your figure. Immediately, warmth and familiarity raised in your senses, her taut muscles flexing around you and making you break down into tears at being in her embrace again. “Dehya…I’ve missed you.” 

Dehya grumbled and looked down at you, running a calloused palm over your cheek. Even though she didn’t speak much, it was clear that she (or this manifestation of her) felt a deep connection with you and couldn’t bear the thought of hurting you. Almost like instinct, she pulled you closer to her, your body straddling her thighs and making you yelp in surprise. 

“Mmmm…Mine…” She croaked under the mask, her voice raspy yet very much like your Dehya. Her voice sent so many shivers down your spine, a sound that you’ve missed after all these years of being alone. “I’m yours, Dehya. All yours. I’m not leaving.”

She seemed pleased by the response, her arms scooping you up by the thighs and pushing you down on the bed. You gasped when you felt your back plummet into the mattress, her tall figure looming over you and trapping you under her large frame. “I..I see you’ve missed me too.” 

She nodded and let out an almost primal growl, wanting to get closer to you if not for her helmet blocking the way. She seemed frustrated at the fact and pawed at your clothes, her blunt fingers wanting to tear off every pesky cloth you wore. “Off…” She grunted, the sound muffled but command clear. “Take it off…” 

You let out a small giggle at how eager she was being. After three years of not seeing each other, it seems that she was very touch starved. “Sure baby, I’ll take them off for you.” 

Though you weren’t sure if she could see clearly, she was definitely keeping her eyes on you as you removed each article of clothing. Everything felt so sudden but so comforting, your nudity being revealed by the second as Dehya resisted the urge to just pounce on you right there. 

Finally, you laid there in your nude glory, sliding your panties off and dropping them before Dehya couldn’t hold back anymore. She grabbed you by the waist and easily hoisted you upwards, plopping you on her lap and making your bare entrance sit atop her clothed member. Though it was limp before, it seems that just watching you strip was enough to get her hard, stiffening under your touch and rising to life.

She let out a soft groan and moved her palm to rest on your ass, clearly aroused and wanting you now. But, since this was Dehya we were talking about, she held back and gently swirled her thumb over your clit, wanting you to be wet enough first before taking her. After all, Dehya knew more than anyone how big she actually was…

“I’m already wet…” you pouted, wanting her to fuck you right away. Yet despite your needy pleas, Dehya shook her head, letting out a grunt of disapproval and continuing to finger your pussy. She knew better than to cave into your whines, and you wanted to comment playfully on that, if not for your lewd whimpers leaving your throat. “Dehya…!”

Her fingers were quite wide and thick, pushing past your folds and thrusting at a gentle pace. She really was a gentle woman, even in this new form of hers, waiting for you to become wet enough so she wouldn’t hurt you. God, this felt so nostalgic, your wife’s fingers burying them all the way down to her palm, before adding a finger or two to stretch you to her liking. 

You threw your head back at the sensation, your moans echoing through the room and making you arch your back in pleasure. She continued fingering you, admiring your lovely form and keeping a rough hand on your ass. “Good…?” she asked softly, sliding her fingers out before shoving them back in. “Good.” You repeated, eyes fluttering shut in bliss while she plunged in repeatedly, filling you up on just her fingers alone. 

If you felt this full from just her fingers, you could only imagine how full you’d feel with her actual cock inside you. 

Finally gauging that you were wet enough, Dehya slid her slimy fingers out of you and seemed satisfied at the aftermath. By now, she was already rock hard, her member straining against her dress and forming a tent under your lap. She was so cute…you’d remember how desperate yet controlled Dehya was whenever she was horny for you, wanting to wreck you into an incomprehensible mess but restraining herself because you were simply too delicate for her. She’s always treated you like a princess, and even now she was your knight in shining armor. Albeit, she wore less of a metal plate and more of a metal…pyramid head. 

“You look so pent up.” You commented suddenly, causing her to look up at you. You smiled and gently ran a hand across her dress, feeling her muscles tense up before relaxing when you trailed lower. “Don’t you want to get there already?” 

“...So small.” Dehya comments softly, her hand cupping your needy pussy and brushing over it. “Need to be patient.” 

You huffed and cupped her stiffie under her dress, causing her to gasp. If she wasn’t wearing that metal helmet you were one hundred percent confident that she was blushing like mad right now. “I have been patient…! I’ve waited three years to be with you again, Dehya. I need you inside me nowww…” 

Your whines struck a chord within her, Dehya grumbling to herself and shifting you on her lap. She was getting antsy, the feeling of your soft hand on her shaft making her lose control of her lust for you. She let out another grumble and complied with your demands, lifting up her dress and allowing you to see just how turned on she was for you. Wow, now that was a sight you’ve certainly missed. 

Though it had been a few years since you’ve last had sex with Dehya, you remembered her very vividly. She was quite large, mostly girthy but it was nothing that a bunch of lube and slick can’t fix. No wonder Dehya took so much time in prepping for you, though you knew she was always big, you always overestimated yourself and needed Dehya to wait like five minutes for you to adjust to her size. 

“...I’ve certainly missed this too.” You chuckled, gently running your hand up her shaft and feeling it twitch under your hold. Dehya groaned, getting needy as she wrapped a hand over your wrist and made a subtle nudge for you to hurry. You gave her a few steady pumps, a few beads of precum starting to form at her tip, before you guided her cock to your awaiting entrance. 

Dehya’s breath hitched under the heavy metal of her helmet, her head leaning backwards and letting you take over. You guided her tip to nestle sweetly against your folds, gently sliding it back and forth through your wetness before easing yourself downward. Though you were already quite wet, you definitely felt the tight stretch as Dehya’s girth split you open on her cock and made you stop halfway. 

You were already breathing quite heavily, sweat trickling down your brow as you struggled to accommodate her size. Dehya noticed you stopping, tilting her head when she realized that you were struggling quite a bit to go down the other half of her. “Sorry…” She whispered softly, holding onto your waist and gently massaging your skin. “I…I will try to be smaller.” 

“Sweetie, that’s kind of impossible right now.” You whimpered, but appreciated her attempts at comforting you. You placed a small kiss on the edge of her pyramid-shaped helmet, causing her to jolt in surprise before giving yourself a few bounces to continue easing down. With each small bounce, Dehya grunted and resisted the urge to slam your hips down to her lap, steadying you in her arms while you slowly took in more inches. 

Down…Down… Finally, you found yourself sitting right on her lap, your pussy feeling so full and hot from how deep Dehya was inside you. Now that she was buried to the hilt, Dehya grumbled and gently squeezed your hips as if silently asking for permission to move you. You had planned on just riding her and letting her sit back and watch, but it appeared that your wife wanted to be more active than you thought. 

“You can move me,” You responded, “Just…be gentle. You’re still quite big.” 

She nodded and slowly lifted you up in her lap, sliding out until only her tip was in you before softly pushing you back down. Her strength, plus the external force of gravity allowed for a very hard (and very pleasant) thrust, causing you to moan loudly and cling to her shoulders. 

Dehya growled and seemed to enjoy the feeling of your tight pussy around her, moving you up and down with ease as she wanted to feel more. She gripped your hips with a certain air of possessiveness, wanting to claim you and keep you all to herself, her blunt nails leaving small crescent moon shapes in the plushness of your thighs. “Mine…” She growled again, beginning to up the pace the more she grew addicted to your pussy. “My wife…”

She slammed you down on her hips a bit harder, her fat tip smashing against a rather sensitive spot inside you and making you arch your back. Dehya picked up on that easily, lifting you so that she could realign her cock to hit deeper. 

At this new angle, Dehya could move further, starting to thrust into you at a hotter rhythm than before. You had forgotten how rough Dehya could be when she wasn’t being your doting knight, grunting and panting while she pushed you down to the hilt. You didn’t even have to move or anything during your sessions with Dehya, as she would always serve you with the utmost devotion. 

“D-Dehya– Dehya…!” Your words came out all choppy and disorganized, her rough thrusts pushing each syllable out of you before you were ready. “B-Baby slow down…!”

She whimpered and hugged your waist tighter, resisting the urge to continue her brutal pace and obeying your command. She dragged her hips more languidly across your walls, making you feel every twitch and vein while your pussy grew more sensitive around her. “Dehya…I think I’m close…” 

She let out another pleased moan at your words and you felt her cock twitch more inside. It appeared you also weren’t the only one getting close, as Dehya was getting close to release herself. “Can I…nngh, come?” She whispered raspily, panting in desperation. “Inside? I want to come inside you.” 

Your cheeks grew hot at her ask, but you couldn’t deny her. Not after you’ve just found her again. “You…You wanna do it inside?” you whimpered, a small smile spreading across your face. “Alright then…Just try not to make too much of a mess.”

Dehya seemed quite happy at that, ramming herself faster until she felt her impending climax come. She thrusted once, twice, three times, until finally she felt herself tense up and release hot spurts of cum, triggering your own climax simultaneously while you were filled to the brim. 

Your womb felt so full. All hot and filled by Dehya while she continued thrusting to ride out both your orgasms. She definitely did not fulfill your request of not making too much of a mess, but that was okay. You were quite pleased with being filled with your wife’s seed, and being by her side again was all that mattered to you at this moment. 

Her thrusts soon slowed to a halt, but she didn’t pull out yet. Instead, she kept her cock still firmly deep within you, and simply readjusted your position so that you were lying more comfortably against her chest. “Did I do good?” she whispered, looking down at you through the small holes of her helmet. 

“Very good…” You whispered back sleepily, your body succumbing to exhaustion as you laid atop your wife’s body, her cock keeping you nice and warm inside. “I’m so glad I found you again.”

“Mmm.”

She gently caressed the back of your head with her hand, the other one resting lazily against your thigh, making you feel all safe and secluded. As you were slowly lulled to sleep in the comforting embrace of your lover, your thoughts began to reminisce in the journey that brought you here. The town of Silent Hill was one not known for its warmth and welcoming structure, but in this town of darkness and gray, you found the one thing that would make you stay forever. 

You had finally found your wife again, and you were never leaving her side.