#dc Fic

[batchilla]

In Any Kinder Universe - Prologue

There's a boy on your front doorstep. He looks about ten, and you would not be at all concerned, where it not for the league of assassins garb he wore. You were still fairly sure you could take him, but if you could, you would prefer to avoid beating up a child. You allow the curtain to float back down into place, and move out of the living room to the entryway. Had you known the league would come, perhaps you would have let him slip something a little more heavy duty into your bag … but then why would Ra's send a little boy? and why does he have a suitcase half his size? You open the door, looking down at him. "You lost, buddy?" "No," the boy replies, staring at you as if you've disappointed him. Wait. That stare.

"Your address was on father's computer as a safe house for code red or black scenarios." He moves into your house, leaving the case behind as if he expects someone else to collect it.

"Father's?" you echo, blinking. Oh. "My father; perhaps you are a lesser detective then I was lead to believe. It seems the trend. The Batman." Maybe it would have been preferable if Ra's Al Ghul sent him to kill you. "A son of the bat in leagues robes?" "My Mother is Thalia Al Ghul. I believe you have met. I am Damian Al Ghul, heir to the demon's head and the bat." You had indeed met Thalia. Ten years ago when you were a scrap of a girl, still learning to flip and jump and fly, yet to be given the mantle, she had come to Gotham. You saw why now, or at least the consequences. The boy's heritage was obvious. You roll your neck, flexing your hands to fight the urge to reach for something in a belt you no longer have. "fascinating as that may be, it doesn't explain why you came here." The boy levels another look you know well at you, as if he sees all you are and finds you lacking. "I understand you trained alongside Gordon and Grayson, and then Todd, later training Drake and Brown." discomfort wells in your chest as you feel the ghost of a too tight cowl suppressing your face. "I don't know that I trained alongside Babs and Dick… I came in right before the … before she was attacked and he left." "But you did in fact train with and later train every previous Robin. It is also true that you yourself were once slated to replace Grayson." You nod. "But I didn't, and then I left." "Then you quit. Soon, I will take my rightful place by my father's side, and I will not be the first denied your tutoring." Your head aches, and vision blurs slightly. "Tim isn't Robin anymore? what- what happened?" "He was replaced by the Batman's true heir. He is not dead, if that's where you went. Grayson said you were sensitive now. weak. I see why my father had you go. Still, he speaks highly of you. When I asked about you - do you know what he said?" "I'm sure you're about to tell me." you mutter, but the boy pays no heed to the bitter tone. "He named you his greatest protege. Claimed Drake and Brown flourished under your guidance. Then demanded I stay away. Leave well enough alone and let you rot here in central city suburbia." you scoff. "Healing, not rotting. I hate to burst whatever weird bubble you're in, but I am out of the game. Scram." Damian shakes his head. "No. If you are what father claims, I will study under you." "And if I refuse?" "Batgirl, turning away a Robin asking for help? Unlikely." It happens before you can think, you grab his shoulder and slam him against the door frame. "That is not my name anymore!" He grabs your wrist and tries to twist out of your grasp, but you lock in and stand as stone. It takes you a minute to realise what's happening. Thalia's boy or not, goading little shit or not, Damian was a child. You let go and take a step back. It's not your name anymore. The mantle no longer yours. Technically if he wanted Batgirl, he ought go to Stephanie Brown. But he was a child, and name or no, if you turned him away and something happened to the kid… Sick laughter rings in your ears. Jason, so broken down, sat in that chair. The shot. Your partner… your best friend and first love dead so quickly after so much pain. "Take your stuff upstairs, third door off the landing. I- I need to have a diazepam and make a goddamn call."

You stare at the contact, as if that will fix the scenario. As if you can inflict your ire on the man who lent you his last name through manifestation alone. You cannot. He answers immediately, his tone completely blank, as if he's not even registered that this is the first time you've spoken in over a year. Your first name and nothing more, clipped and short. "Bruce, hi. Lose a brat, lately?" You are proud of how level you keep your voice. "Might've appreciated knowing I had another brother before he showed up. I'd have stocked the fridge with goldfish or something." Except you didn't, you didn't have a new brother, not really. Bruce didn't truly see you as a daughter, just a toy soldier. A truth that had slapped you in the face after you'd had a breakdown and needed to step out of the cowl, and your use to him was over. He hadn't even said goodbye. Just slipped an emergency alert into your bag at some point. The one trinket you kept from 'home'. "Damian arrived safely then." Your eyebrows raise "You sent him?" "I told him to stay away. To grant you space. Someone will be around shortly to collect him." "…" you feel pathetic to ask it. "You told him I was a good teacher?" "Something like that." is the unreadable reply. "Think he has anything to learn from me?" Your voice is thick and you fight the need to let it rasp as you swallow back the panic and the fear and the hope he brings. Even now, after so much time, and anger, and therapy, some part of you is that little girl desperate for the love of the only father you have ever known. "I do." "Then… maybe he can stay, just for a little while."

INCIDENT REPORT Concerned Parties: Batman. Batgirl Metahuman - Civilian {SEE FILE}. Incident nature: Phone call. Duration: 3 minutes 34 seconds. Notable information: Damian to reside temporarily with civilian to receive training. First contact with Civilian in 13 months, 2 weeks and 3 days post incident {SEE FILE} Personal notes: Damian has broken prototypical regarding his sister. She is to be left alone, per her request. To be reprimanded on return. She sounded initially calm and making snarky commentary but swiftly became distressed. Confirms suspicion that her leaving this life is for her best health. Distance to be maintained. Greatly relieving to hear from her again. She is missed. Incident marked closed at 1900 by Batman.

Hi! Batchilla here! Repeat after me team: if I vote on the poll and don't reblog, I am a piece of shit and need to learn basic tumblr etiquette!

Files MAY become available if they do not win the poll they first appear in... but I make no promises. Thank you to @k1ssyoursister for making the divider. Thank you to @sunnie-angel for giving this a beta read. and the biggest thank you possible to @heavysighing-dreamyeyes for letting me yap at you so much about this series, you have been unreal.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Dorito my beloved, would u ever consider writing a Jason x reader blurb where reader has a bad day and in an attempt to cheer them up he either brings home their fav ice cream or frozen treat or takes them out to somewhere like cold stone creamery for ice cream, and then after a successful cheering up reader kisses him on the cheek and then he tells because COLD… it feels weird to send an ask I’ve never done it before so sorry if it comes off weird? Anyways I love your writing and I’m always pleased to see u pop up on my feed :)!

Oh what I wouldn’t give to have this man comfort me on the shitty days.

Jason knew that as of recent there was storm cloud hanging over you. You looked as horrible and you felt horrible and given how little you talked about it, the distant look in your eyes or how all you wanted to do was retreat to your room and go to sleep said it all for him. He understood that not everyday was going to be a good one but recently it seemed as though you had more of a shitty week then anything else, and you just didn’t want him to know about it, but unfortunately for you Jason was far more observant when it comes to you than most give him credit for.

And he knew just what might help ease that feeling of nothingness, of the numbness and perpetual exhaustion that riddled you right now.

‘Sweetheart?’ Jason popped his head through the doorway, spotting your unmoving form on your shared bed, taking this as his cue as he entered the bedroom to sit on the bed as close to you to you as he could. ‘I got you a little something that I know might cheer you up, even it’s a little bit.’

‘What?’ Your say shortly, already feeling as though saying any more would only drain you even further then you already were to begin with.

‘Ice cream.’ Jason replied as he sets aside quite a decent sized tub of honeycomb ice cream on the bedside table before moving to make himself comfortable in bed next to you, making sure to keep some distance between the two of you unless you asked for him to close the distance. You managed to muster out a weak ‘thank you’ to Jason as you sat yourself up against the headboard of the bed, reaching out to grab the tub of ice cream to your lap, not noticing that Jason had a tub of ice cream himself until you looked over at him shovelling spoonfuls into his mouth; which made his cheeks puff out much like that of a chipmunk.

Jason tended to be somewhat of a messy eater and it lead to quite humorous situations where you were left wiping sauce from his lips, crumbs from his cheeks and left over ice cream that had somehow missed his mouth. You might not have been feeling all that great of a week but you knew you could always count on Jason to remember things you’ve said in passing, and use it to his advantage to make you feel better despite whether or not he himself wasn’t feeling too up to it; it was something about him that you loved deeply and couldn’t help but admire.

Your sour moods, depressive states and moments of sadness never lasted long when you were with Jason as he always brought a sense of comfort, a sense of understanding when he coddled you against his chest while whispering sweet nothings against your forehead. He was your comfort, your strength and your guiding light all in one and you would forever be grateful for everything he’s ever done for you, even if you didn’t have the strength to do so but you’d always make up for it by letting him know that his hard work payed off by one simple act; smiling.

So as you continued to watch Jason inhale half of his ice cream, not waiting long enough to finish swallowing before shovelling in more of the cold sweet treat, and in a way that you worried that he would give himself major brain freeze. However you were more focused on just hoe full his cheeks were getting and the mess he was leaving all across his face, some part off you felt as though this was all an intentional shoe just to make you feel better, but another part of you appreciated that Jason was more then willing to look a little goofy and be a little silly if it meant making you forget everything that has left you wanting to wallow in eternal isolation.

You could feel the weight lift from your chest and the fog clear form your head slowly as you started to smile, only to let out a soft chuckle which caught on Jason’s ear as he stopped his shovelling to look at you with soft, attentive eyes. ‘What is it? Is there something on my face?’ He asked through a mouthful of ice cream as he began to touch his face with his hand, something that only proved in smearing ice cream further across his cheeks, which only added to the humour of it all as your cheeks were more or less hurting from how large your smile had become.

‘Yes, a lot of it if you don’t stop doing that!’ You replied as you reached over to swat away his hand in order to wipe the ice cream that had started to dry on his cheeks even, only pulling away when you were satisfied with your work. ‘There, that’s better you don’t look like a messy chipmunk now, just a full one.’ You teased as you kissed that very same cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your chilled lips from the ice cream as you smiled before pulling away, not forgetting the beautiful way his breath hitched the moment your lips met his warm skin. ‘Thank you.’

‘Whatever for gorgeous?’ Jason asks as he looked at you adoringly, happy to see you be at least somewhat better now. In truth his cheeks were starting to hurt from how much melting ice cream he was stuffing in them full, not that he’d ever tell you that as all he wanted was to offer you some light in your darkest times, much like how you did for him when he was in the same predicament you’re in now.

‘For being you, for making me feel better, for being here with me and most importantly being my anything and everything.’ You say to him as you set aside your now empty tub of ice cream to cuddle into his side, resting your head against his chest with his arms moving to keep you tethered to him, though not that you were complaining as you felt his lips cascade gently semi-chilled kisses across your face, forehead and nose.

‘You don’t ever have to thank me for anything darling.’ Jason whispered to you as he noses the side of your head, kissing it. ‘I’m just come here with one thing in mind and one thing only, to make my sweetheart smile again like they should be always.’ He adds as he hold you tighter against him, smiling to himself in victory that he had helped ease the conflict within your mind, even for a little while but Jason was more then willing to keep up the fight until you get better again to stand up on your own.

[kenobers]

what would a bat do | jason todd blurb

or jason finds you crying and decides to shoot first and ask questions later. gn!reader a/n: could be read as romantic or platonic

Jason is a lot like Bruce. He does not see this as a positive.

To be fair, "You're acting like Bruce" is the verbal equivalent of hitting below the belt for him and his siblings. Being compared to your parent is a devastating below in any sibling argument, but with their...respectively unique relationships with Bruce, it's downright lethal. Especially for Jason, who still hasn't found complete security with their father.

So, Jason only compares himself to Bruce with blinders on. He does it every time he snaps at someone just to get them off his case. He cringes every time he decides to go off the grid and shut everyone out instead of confronting his feelings. "You're acting like Bruce" echoes in his head as he draws a mental Venn diagram and desperately fills the opposing sides.

The worst is when he catches his reflection glowering back at him; if he had a nickel for every time he mistook it for Bruce sneaking up on him…

He only sees his father in himself when he's angry. When he's so blinded by the nauseating need for vengeance that the line between Hood and Bat start to blur. When all he can see is the mission. When he realizes just how much he’s chosen to isolate himself.

One of the reasons he hides as much of his face as possible is because then no one can tell him he looks just like a bat when he bares his teeth. He wears his emotions on his sleeve instead of leaving it to anyone's guess. He makes absolutely sure that there's no mistaking him for Batman.

All of this to mixed results, of course.

Because despite all of his valid issues with Bruce, deep down Jason knows that Bruce Wayne is still a good man.

And although he doesn’t quite realize it, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to admit that Bruce Wayne raised Jason Todd to be a good man.

Bruce is why Jason always holds the door open for the person behind him. Every time Jason buys a coffee, he pays for the next handful of customers, something he consistently watched Bruce do. Whenever a child talks to him, Jason always crouches to their eye level…that’s Bruce too.

That’s not to give Mr. Wayne too much credit. Jason Todd has had a good heart from the moment he was born. He never needed anyone to tell him to leave the world a better place than he found it. Just because he has an anomalous method of doing so doesn’t make that any less true.

But there are certain things, instincts, that Bruce cemented in his mind. Like knowing when to ask questions first and when to ask them later.

Like when he finds you crying just now.

He’d sent you a text earlier in the day. Something completely unrelated to your well being, something incredibly unimportant actually. Still, your lack of response made him anxious, so he went to check on you. Just to make sure you weren't, like, dead or something.

There's a split second of awkward silence as you both stare at one another. But you hardly have time to wipe your tears and blubber out, "Oh, hey, what's up," before Jason's engulfing you in a bear hug.

That's when you know you don't need to hold it together. That's when you know it's safe to completely fall apart.

Jason doesn't need to ask questions just yet. You don't need him asking questions. You both know he'll get answers, whether from you or his own investigation. For now he'll stay quiet, sans a few whispered comforts. He could try being a man of many words. He’s more than capable of waxing poetics. It’s just that he knows he can come across as mean and abrasive, even when he’s trying to be kind and soft.

Another way he’s like Bruce.

Nevertheless, he’s got two big strong arms that can speak for him. They’ve got you. They’ll protect you from whatever’s got you feeling like this.

One large hand anchors you to him. It holds you steady as your body shakes with sobs. The other cradles your head, every so often moving to pat your back whenever you hiccup.

You can hide your face in his chest. Ride along with the subtle rise and fall of it. Let the gentle sound of his heart beat drown out the sound of your stressors. He doesn’t care about the damp spot you’re leaving on his shirt. He just cares about you.

Jason is a rock, an absolute pillar of a human being. He can stand there for as long as you need. He can support your weight and hold you up if you’re too exhausted to do it yourself.

When you decide that you want to talk about it, then he tries to be all ears. He sits you on the couch and wraps an arm around you as you rest your head on his shoulder. Occasionally, his thumb drifts up to wipe your stray tears away.

He listens as best he can. He definitely would've dealt with your issue differently if he were you. In a different era, he would've let you know exactly what he would do - more likely, he would've just gone and done it for you. But he can recognize that this is probably a healthier way to deal with whatever upset you. And you know what, he can respect that too.

After you've vented until there's nothing left to say, Jason stays with you. It's that nagging voice that tells him that he has to make sure you're really okay, that you're not about to do something stupid as soon as he takes his eyes off you. After all, that's what he would do.

So he puts something on the tv. A show, a movie, a YouTube compilation, video essay - something he knows you like. He doesn't look away from you the entire time. He sits at the ready to catch any stray tears or soothe any sudden bursts of rage.

Until you fall asleep on his shoulder. He sits like that for another few minutes before he finally transfers you to your bed, tucking you in with so much care. The only sound he makes is a sharp gasp when he catches his reflection in your window.

Then he sits some more, still watching you closely. He watches until he's certain you're sound asleep, ignorant to the things that hurt you.

Then he slips out the window without a peep, off to get your justice.

That's exactly what Bruce would do.

[dark-dragon-8]

I want to see a fic where Tim and some other Batfamily member do the whole "I don't feel so good" "Maybe you're pregnant" meme, but the Batfamily doesn't know he's trans. So what happens is, he's actually panicking, thinking he may have forgotten to take his pills before sex and noting how he didn't get his period in a while (as a girl, I can confidently say that my period always feels like it's coming late or not coming at all, IDK you just forget when you're supposed to get it if you're not too attentive to it).

Que the Batkid that told him that (let's say it was Jason) laughing his ass off because Tim is actually worried about this, he's a man, he can't get pregnant yet for some reason he's getting worried.

Fast forward a week later, on the next family dinner, when Tim announces his pregnancy (the results came back positive) and lets the family know he was AFAB both at the same time. They're all speechless, not knowing if they should be worried, excited or just accepting & happy for him (which they were going to be anyway).

Bonus: In the background, Jason is blue screening because, he was right?!? And does that mean Tim would've kept on going on patrol and live life as normal if he hadn't said anything?! God, this kid, he's going to be the death of them all.

[I might actually write it, honestly, I just need to find the time, but I also want to read this from someone else's perspective on the story, so feel free to use this and please 🙏 do recommend some fic recs if you know/have any]

[axstoria]

Kissing Dick Grayson after a late-night patrol, his hands planted on your face as yours pause their tending to his wounds. He's still in uniform, mask and all, yet the top half has been peeled away to reveal a nasty gash on his side that Bruce would lecture him for had he still been in his Robin days.

Kissing Dick Grayson in front of his family for the first time. Damian is glaring daggers, while Cass and Steph are giggling like school girls, and Tim simply marks down the relationship in his mental notebook.

Kissing Dick Grayson to calm him down after he took down a trafficking ring in Blüdhaven. He's angry and hates the world, yet he feels as though he holds it all in his hands as he caresses your cheeks.

Kissing Dick Grayson after a nightmare to soothe his pains. His hands are twisted in your shirt and he's shaking, but it's okay because you're there.

Kissing Dick Grayson until the both of you are sick and grinning like idiots, happy to be together after days of being apart because of a mission.

Kissing Dick Grayson just because.

Kissing Dick Grayson because you love him.

Kissing Dick Grayson.

[girlkisser13]

being married to bruce wayne would include

• galas, charities, balls, etc. become more a part of your life than you probably ever wanted them to be.

• once you two officially become a couple, you become gotham’s "it" couple. whether you want to or not.

• in the press, the two of you are often depicted as gotham royalty.

• even before the two of you start dating, you swear you feel someone's presence at night whenever you walk home from work.

• it wasn't until a mugger attempted to steal your purse that you finally learned where that feeling of being watched had been coming from.

• when the dark knight told you to be mindful of your surroundings and to hurry home before swooping away into the night, you could only nod with widened eyes.

• you didn’t say anything until you got home, to be honest, you geeking out: it’s not every day that someone gets to meet "the batman".

• you gleefully call your boyfriend about it. he doesn’t answer it until later, but you can hear a smirk in his voice as he responds to you fangirling.

• eventually, you find out about his identity on accident.

• as expected, you’re a little upset. someone you were romantically involved with was masquerading around town dressed like every night was halloween, getting into dangerous situations.

• after the two of you talk about it, you begin to understand why he does it and while you may not necessarily agree with some of his more controversial methods, you can’t help but feel a sense of pride that he’s putting everything at risk just to make sure what happened to him doesn’t happen to anyone else.

• alfred always reports to you first whenever something happens to bruce, knowing how much he truly means to you.

• you’re the one he listens to the most (even more than alfred) when it comes to what he should be doing whether it be a complicated mission or something as simple as eating a much needed meal.

• most of the time you would find yourself waiting at a restaurant for an hour before he would text you that he can’t make it because he’s being held up.

• when he does show up, he’s late, he looks like a mess, and he greets you with a lop-sided smile and half-lidded eyes. and you melt because you remember that he did choose you and you do love him.

• bruce’s absence is always outweighed by his affection. he loves touching you even if it’s just your shoulders or your fingers or your elbows. he always finds a way to be close to you when you’re together.

• he’s always trying to make up for the lost time with you by getting you expensive gifts and trips, only for you to reassure him that he doesn’t need to do all this.

• you’re always able to tell when he’s had a particularly rough night. his usual silence feels different; heavier.

• he becomes a lot more handsy with you, more affectionate. as if you’re the last flower in a prized garden and he never noticed until now.

• if you’re asleep by the time he gets back, you may get woken up by him caressing your cheek, rubbing a thumb over your hand, or him putting his big arms around you to pull you in close.

• one of your favorite things though is definitely seeing the family. most of the time you see alfred and always try to tease recipes out of him which expertly deflects.

• whenever the bat kids are at the manor, he invites you because they love you and he knows you love them too.

• dick constantly flirts with you and teases you and bruce. you love to play along with him because it makes bruce very uncomfortable.

• he finally proposes to you after three years of the kids telling him to do so. you obviously say yes.

• the two of you decide to have a small, private ceremony at the manor. friends and family only.

• bruce 100% cries as soon as he sees you walk down the aisle in your wedding dress.

• alfred volunteers to be the wedding planner, because he always knew that you would be the future mrs. wayne. <33

[indulgentdaydream]

BEEN WAITING FOR THIS BESTIE

what about a tired and very touch-starved jason wakes up at like 2pm and fem!reader is out of bed??? and he comes and finds them and throws them over his shoulder and brings them back to bed???? because why would you leave jaybean by himself????? unnacceptable???

THIS IS SO ADORABLE WHAT

And the idea of people waiting for my requests to be open is so weird like… what do you mean you wanna read my writings and hear my thoughts??? Y’all make me smile so much I swear

Side note: I’m so sorry this is a month late. And then also another day late than I said I would post.

Side side note: if y’all saw me post this without the photo header…. No you didn’t

M.I.A

Jason Todd x gn!Reader || Domestic Fluff || Word Count: 758

Warnings: not completely proofread. Gun mention.

Jason’s pulled himself out of a bad dream. Not quite a nightmare, though something eerily close.

It was one of those rare nights that he had off of patrol. One he where the two of you got to eat dinner together, watch some TV, get ready for bed, then fall asleep in your shared bed. He enjoyed the chances when he got them.

He laid on his stomach under the comfortably heavy duvet. His left arm was bent beneath his pillow, his hand grazing the hidden .44 he had convinced you to let him keep there, the other arm laying in front of him. He kept his eyes closed, clinging to his last tendrils of sleep.

All he needed was you back in his arms and his dreams would turn good again, filled with the smell of your soap and hints of faded perfume.

Slowly, he stretches his right arm out across the sheets, sleepily searching for your form. It drags along the sheets, his entire body only half-asleep.

He’s aware that there’s this… itch in his skin. Not a physical itch. An itch that can only be satisfied by having your arms around him again.

Jason Todd doesn’t count sheep. He counts your heart beats or your breathing. Sometimes both.

He must be laying further to the edge of his side of the bed than he thought. Usually, he doesn’t have to reach this far to get to you when you two drift apart in your sleep.

His hand grazes the wall. His eyes shoot open.

You aren’t in bed.

He pushes himself up with his elbows. A tired, confused, and slightly panicked frown settled on his face, his hair mussed up and flat on one side of his head.

The bedroom window is closed. The door is cracked open.

Then he notices the sound of the tap running in the kitchen.

Jason gets up and out of bed, moving languidly. He pads his way out of the bedroom and into the hallway.

His eyes squint at the light you had turned on as he stands in the doorway. All foggy panic he felt before faded away at the sight of you, filling a glass with water, standing in one of his shirts.

He shuffles his feet. A purposeful noise that he wouldn’t otherwise make as he went about his day, one to get your attention.

You turn around, your glass of water in your hand. You take notice of your boyfriend’s large stature filling the entryway, a sleepy pout on his lips. You give him a smile. He can tell you're trying not to laugh at his fatigued state.

“Want a glass, too?”

Jason shakes his head. He makes his way across the kitchen, his brows still furrowed against the light.

He just wants you back in bed with him.

He reaches for your glass after you sip from it. You hand it to him. Jason takes the cold glass in his right hand, bends down a little, and wraps his left arm tight around the bottom of your bum. He stands back up, now with you draped over his shoulder.

You squeal out a fit of laughter, "Jay!"

He flicks off the light as he exits the kitchen, makes his way back into the hall, then kicks the door to your bedroom shut as he carries you in.

Gently, he sets you back down on the edge of the bed. Once you're properly seated, he hands your water back for you to finish. Seeing your bright smile makes his own lips tug into a small one.

Jason rakes his hands through his hair as you drink. He rubs his hands over his face, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes from a moment, trying to shake a bit of the sleep still clinging to him.

You hand him back the nearly finished glass of water. He watches you shuffled back under the covers, moving over to the wall-side. Your side. He finishes off the last two gulps of your water and sets the glass on the night stand.

He follows you under the covers, immediately pulling you close. He presses a kiss to your cheek and drops his head into the crook of your neck, an arm draped around your waist, the other tucked under his pillow. He kisses your shoulder and gently squeezes your waist once.

Your arms settle around him, "If you wanted cuddles you could’ve just asked, you know."

Jason only grumbles an incoherent response. He shuffles and presses closer to you, holding you tight.

You kiss his forehead and Jason starts to count.

Ahh!! I hope you like! This is lowkey rushed.

Also you can catch my personal headcanon of how Jason WILL keep his bed, with or without you in it, as far away from the window and door as possible. And you best believe that when you two share, you're getting the wall side so he can act as a barrier for any possible danger that may come in.

[your-local-simp-writers]

Puppy Love

Word Count: 1552

Warnings: None

Damian Wayne x Fem!Reader ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

It was a typical day after school, one of those rare moments when Damian Wayne wasn’t caught up in some sort of mission or training. The clock ticked loudly in the classroom as you stared at your class partner. Damian was sitting at his desk, meticulously packing up his things, his movements precise, as always. He had a habit of folding his papers just so, making sure everything was in perfect order before leaving. It was almost funny how much effort he put into something so mundane.

You tapped your pen on the desk, your mind bouncing with energy, as it always did. You had an idea, a crazy, spontaneous idea. The kind of idea you always had, but this time, you had to share it with him.

"Damian," you said brightly, leaning across the desk just enough to catch his attention. He glanced up, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as if preparing himself for whatever your next move was. You grinned, already knowing what he was thinking. “Do you want to go to the fair?”

His brow furrowed. “The fair?” he repeated, clearly skeptical. “I’m not sure how that could be beneficial to anything.”

You waved a hand, dismissing his doubts. “It’s just a bit of fun. You know, something different. Besides, you can’t always be training or brooding, right?”

Damian looked at you for a long moment, then sighed dramatically, an exaggerated gesture you’d gotten used to. “I don’t see the point in such... frivolity,” he said, though there was an edge of curiosity beneath the words.

You didn’t give him time to think about it. You knew he would overanalyze it otherwise. “Come on, just for a little while. You could use some downtime, and it’s not like Gotham doesn’t need a break from your endless seriousness. You’re my class partner, right? It’s just a few hours of normal fun. You’ve done worse, I promise.”

You could see the inner conflict playing out in his eyes—the part of him that was trained to be a warrior, never wasting a moment, battling with the part that was slowly learning to open up to new experiences. Finally, after a long pause, he nodded reluctantly. “Fine. I will accompany you to this... ‘fair,’” he said, his voice still laced with skepticism.

...

The fair was a short drive outside of Gotham, tucked away just beyond the noise and chaos of the city. You could tell the difference immediately, as soon as the car tires left the paved roads and hit the dirt paths leading to the fairgrounds. There was a certain charm to the place, something rustic and simple, so different from the bustling streets of Gotham or the towering Wayne mansion.

The sun was setting, casting a soft orange glow over the rows of booths, food carts, and brightly colored rides. The scent of hot dogs, popcorn, and cotton candy filled the air, and the sounds of laughter and music echoed around the fairground. It was the kind of place where people went to escape from the grind of daily life, to enjoy the fleeting moments of joy that came with a simple carnival game or a ride on the Ferris wheel.

You could see Damian’s unease as you both walked toward the entrance. His eyes darted around, taking in the overwhelming sights, sounds, and people. It wasn’t quite the same as the controlled environment he was used to. But you didn’t give him time to overthink it. You grabbed his arm, pulling him toward one of the booths.

“You’re going to love the ring toss,” you said with a grin, all too eager to get him involved.

“Ring toss?” he repeated, the skepticism still clear in his voice. “What purpose does this serve?”

“It’s fun,” you insisted, though you knew he wasn’t convinced. Still, you managed to drag him over to the booth. The game was simple enough—throw rings over bottles. It was a childish game, but you loved it, and you hoped Damian would catch on to the idea of letting go, even if just for a moment.

He stood with his arms crossed, watching you carefully. "You really think I can waste my time on this?"

You gave him a sidelong glance and a teasing smile. "Well, it’s not about wasting time. It’s about... I don’t know, enjoying the moment."

He didn’t look at you, but he did take a few rings and line them up, aiming carefully. You grinned to yourself. Even when he was trying to act all serious, his precision couldn’t be denied.

With a flick of his wrist, one of the rings flew through the air, landing perfectly on a bottle. You raised your eyebrows, impressed.

“Nice,” you said. “You’re better at this than you let on.”

Damian didn’t respond, his eyes narrowing as he picked up another ring. “I don’t do things halfheartedly,” he muttered, almost to himself. “If I’m going to do something, I do it properly.”

You watched him, a strange warmth spreading in your chest. The boy was so driven, so serious, yet you couldn’t help but admire his determination. It was rare for him to let his guard down, and even rarer for him to admit that something could be fun.

Soon enough, you had won a small stuffed bear, and Damian had reluctantly agreed to take it from you. You held it to your chest, practically skipping to the next attraction.

“What now?” he asked, clearly still unsure.

"Let’s ride the Ferris wheel," you said, already making your way toward the line.

He didn’t protest, which surprised you. Damian was a creature of habit and control. He liked to know what was coming next, not to be thrown into something unfamiliar. But here he was, following you as you led him toward the towering wheel. It was slow-moving and simple, but you could tell the height of the ride was making him a little uneasy.

Once you were both in your seat, the Ferris wheel creaked to life. The world below you began to shrink, the lights of the fair twinkling in the distance, and the sky above grew dark as the stars started to emerge, one by one. You glanced over at Damian, who was staring out at the lights, his face unreadable.

“You know, it’s nice up here,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “Don’t you ever just sit outside and stare at the stars? It’s so peaceful.”

Damian turned his head toward you, his expression stiff. “I prefer to watch... other things,” he said, his tone flat, almost as though he hadn’t really considered the question. “While I’m at it, I watch the bumper-to-bumper traffic and listen to the sounds of car horns and sirens.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at his dry sarcasm. “That is exactly why I like to be in the middle of nowhere. No traffic, no sirens, no deadlines. Just peace.”

Damian looked at you, the barest hint of amusement flickering across his face. “Peace,” he echoed, then gave a short huff. “I don’t know that I would describe Gotham as anything remotely peaceful.”

“Well, I’ll take peaceful over chaotic any day,” you said, your eyes drifting back to the sky, the colors of the fireworks beginning to light up the air. You handed him a stick of cotton candy, offering it with a teasing grin. “Besides, I think you could use a little fun, Damian. Maybe the world won’t end if you just enjoy the moment.”

He hesitated, eyeing the fluffy treat in your hand before taking a cautious bite. His eyes flickered back to you, his voice quieter this time. “Fun. I’m not sure I remember what that feels like.”

You blinked, surprised at the admission. For a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. You were so used to seeing Damian with his walls up, his rigid control always in place, that hearing him admit something so vulnerable took you off guard.

“Well, maybe now’s a good time to start remembering,” you said, your voice soft. “There’s a lot more to life than training and working.”

Damian didn’t answer, but he didn’t pull away either. Instead, he continued to chew his cotton candy in silence, staring out at the fireworks. You could tell, even without the words, that he was beginning to relax, if only for a moment.

The rest of the ride passed in a comfortable silence, the fireworks exploding around you in bursts of color. It was a strange thing, this peacefulness, and you couldn’t help but smile as you watched Damian begin to melt into the experience. For once, he wasn’t the brooding, serious heir to Wayne Enterprises. For once, he was just a boy—your class partner, Damian—enjoying the simple joy of a fair.

As the ride finally came to a stop and you both made your way back to solid ground, you felt a strange warmth between you both, something unspoken but real. You hadn’t just taken him to a fair—you’d taken him to a moment where he could simply be Damian, and for the first time, he seemed to appreciate it.

“Not so bad, huh?” you teased as you walked side by side.

Damian glanced at you, the slightest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Perhaps... just this once.”

[meiluu]

Bats

Here's some thoughts about Bruce Wayne, my husband btw

cw: Major fluff

Just imagine being the wife of Bruce Wayne. Not the playboy, or the billionaire, not the philanthropist, but Bruce Wayne. A man who had to grow up at the young age of eight, and later on becoming a young man who spent his time traveling the world. Learning all he could, fighting, languages, anything. A man who sacrifices everything for the ones he loves, hoping that he can protect them from the world that seems hellbent on taking away all the people he holds dear.

Bruce is a man of few words, but each word that leaves those beautiful lips of his has a purpose. Those quiet moments when its just the two of you, cuddled in one of the plush couches in the Wayne manor library. The moonlight flittering in from the tall windows, the crackling of the lit fireplace is the only other noise that accompanies your whispered words of love. Wrapped in his protective embrace, a body that spends nearly every night defending and protecting the innocents of Gotham is here hugging you and gently massaging your back.

You bring a level of solace that Bruce didn't think he would ever have. Given how he accepted the fact that being Batman meant that he could never really have that. Then you came in. It wasn't some massive firework show or falling from the sky. You just... walked in like you were meant to be here all along. The patience, understanding and unwavering love you showed him time and time again had Bruce wondering where you had been all this time. You were so...You.

Bruce is the husband and lover who lets you kiss his countless amount of scars that litter his body that has been sculpted to fight and endure anything that comes its way. A body that held strength in every fiber of muscle and yet he turns to putty within your loving hands. Mind, body and soul, wholly yours.

Bruce had no idea of what he was missing when you weren't in his life and now that he has you, there is nothing on this planet or universe that would ever take you from him.

Bruce is someone who will die for You, and any one of the people he loves.

[anitalenia]

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𝒄𝒘: sexual content ahead, husband!bale!batman, fem!reader on top, riding, some dirty talk, soft sex, not my best writing but fr fr don’t come for me im just trying to post things okay? ahhhhhhh 😔🤚🏻 maybe some typos 😚 i oughta be ashamed of myself fr fr 😔😔🤚🏻🤚🏻 ₊˚⊹♡

₊˚⊹♡ 𝒃𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒏𝒆; eccentric billionaire, former eligible bachelor, orphan boy, son, rich playboy.

Labels. These were all just labels Bruce never particularly cared for nor paid attention to, monickers used to try and simplify who he really was so he could be easier understood. Labels used to better classify him because rich men like him supposedly didn’t have depth or purpose beyond what the media claimed him to have.

They were just labels, words that barely scratched the surface of who he really was.

Bruce had been called many things in his life, too many awful and offensive things he had quickly learned not to pay attention to. Caring gave them meaning, he was told so early on, caring gave them significance. Now, he really couldn’t care less.

Throughout the course of his life, throughout all the tragedy and grief, Bruce had learned to ignore it all; the names, the judgments, the looks, the labels. His indifference had become second nature, an innate response to anybody trying to provoke him.

He didn’t really have a choice anyway. There were too many people praying on his downfall since his birth, too many people biting at the fruits of his labor to see if they were ripe enough for the taking. Selfish, greedy, money hungry men desperate for his demise.

Sharks lurking in untamed depths ready to snatch him up if he swam too far, hiding in the black shores with their sharp teeth bared and beady eyes hungry.

Despite what many people believed, Bruce didn’t have it so easy in the sense of work and spirit. When you were rich like he was, famous like he was, as powerful as he was, everyone believed you couldn’t possibly be burdened by anything.

That he was too spoiled by the grandness of life that it had gradually bled into a lack of work ethic, that it was his last name that gave him any status at all, that it was his reputation that gave him everything he had without him having to ask for it.

He had the money to fix any problem, the influence to hide any scandal, the face to get him out of any situation he needed to get out of.

He was CEO of Wayne Enterprises for gods sake, son to Thomas Wayne, a man that was great and beloved all in his own right. Yes, people had doubted Bruce’s ability to lead, to run a business after so long of being away from it, but then he came back and proved them all wrong as he usually did.

Being someone so honorably renowned in Gotham City, someone that carried the Wayne name at that, it came with its own barrel of familial obligation and responsibility outside of his own personal commitments. He couldn’t disappoint anyone, could never fathom disappointing his late father.

Working by day a normal man with a bullet on his back, a price on his head to any hungry buisness man willing to do whatever it took to get to the top. Then working by night as Batman with the bruises and scars to show for it. Someone every criminal and lowlife in Gotham City wanted dead.

Batman, not so much a label as he was a separate being entirely. It was Bruce, but he couldn’t find any similarities between the polite buisness man wearing a suit by day and the other man wearing a blood stained mask by night. One was forced to coerce with society in the manner of business and passive aggressive smiles, another undertaking the grueling task of removing the grime from it.

Bruce Wayne was all expensive cologne and hand shake deals, money hungry tabloids and self absorbed white collars. It was a life always on display, always the center of attention, always everyone else’s focus.

Batman was purely mystery and intrigue. Hidden from sight yet found in every shadow, heard in the trembled whisper of every breath. No one knew who he was yet he had somehow gotten all of their attention. Everyone eager to know who was behind the mask but no one ready to answer for why he existed in the first place.

The only similarities they shared were the cause for conspiracy. Whether it was Bruce or Batman they stole every headline — always someone trying to figure them out, bring their true identity to light and spread more moral quandary about whether they were right or wrong for every choice they made.

Pure opposite lives he juggled in the same two hands.

No, he did not have it easy. Always more enemies than friends and more snakes than family. Every hour, every minute, every second he spent left exposed there was always someone right behind him ready to push him if he faltered.

He had to be careful; always be passive and nice, diplomatic and respectful to those he knew wanted him gone, to the people who wanted his seat at the head of the table and the money in his bank. Bruce had to be the CEO his father wanted him to be, the one he was destined to be, the one etched into his history before he was even born.

He had a reputation to uphold, a legacy to live, a job to do.

But no, it was not always easy.

Being rich and handsome like he was did have its downsides, as meager as they may seem to less fortunate individuals. Many people hated Bruce Wayne just for those simple, superficial things alone. His looks, his status, his job he was so rightfully given. Apparently this made him an asshole, arrogant, narcissist.

It was looks of hatred and envy from men he’d never even met, women he’d abandoned after a steamy two hour hookup (not that he did those anymore but women loved to hold a grudge), businessmen who cursed him to hell and back for his amount of wealth and fame he had no control over.

He didn’t care about these people anyway. These rambunctious, single minded people who preyed on the weak and ate the hopeless. They were all self centered, arrogant, narcissistic. Self absorbed scum unwilling to put in the hard work necessary to be as successful as he was.

On the opposite side of the spectrum, Bruce was often regarded as someone lonely, someone lost, someone desolate and pitiful. He was a coward, hiding in his soulless black mansion under thick piles of money ever since the fatal death of his parents. So sad, an orphan, just depressing.

That was hushed whispers behind his back and somber stares, awkward, harrowing smiles from coworkers and the front pages of newspapers. Bruce Wayne back from hiding after all this time… living on his father’s name… will he fail or carry on the legacy of the great Wayne fortune… yada yada yada.

Just more words. Pointless and purposeless, written to appease the swill of Gotham with no real substance behind them. Gossip, false news, attention grabbing headlines that were purely speculation.

However, as much as he hated labels — more so his — whatever names he got called behind his back, Bruce couldn’t find it in sensible reason to argue that they weren’t pieces of who he really was. Fabrics of his character torn out thread by thread and poked and needled at by societies curious hands.

They were just pieces, stretched and torn so far from the truth but yet the original strings were still there, hanging on in remembrance of what he truly was chaotically intertwined in the lies and deception of what people thought him to be. Too shredded to be properly understood but still thriving in the undercurrents of whatever he was now being labeled as and people were now foolishly believing him to be.

Yes, they were just labels. But labels that were not so far from factual truths.

However again, none of those words mattered to him as much as this did, as much as the one label that he truly cared about.

Husband.

Your husband.

The only title he held in the same esteem as Batman and Wayne Enterprises CEO, perhaps even higher. It was one of the only labels that carried a semblance of true meaning, one he didn’t shy from.

Husband. It was the only honorific that mattered to him, one of the only sentiments that made him feel actual pride in who he was. Husband was something real, concrete, not some anonymous opinion in a paper or a cruel murmur in a hallway.

It was the label that pierced him through and through especially in moments like this, moments when your hips were rolling deeply on top of his and he was buried balls deep inside your warmth.

He couldn’t think about anything in this moment. Nothing and everything at the same time as your finger nails, freshly manicured and glittering, gripped into his shoulder blades as you rolled your hips once again.

Bruce winced pleasantly, jaw clenching as his head leaned back into the softness of his black silken pillows. Brown hair frazzled and stringy, his smooth skin alight with a soft, lovesick glow.

You rolled your hips once more in a soft soothing motion, nothing too rough and nothing too fast; the evening had called for something more sensual in the delicacy of Bruce’s touch and the softness of his words just an hour prior.

“Oh Bruce…” You sighed dreamily, hands pressing into his bulky arms as he sighed out a trembled breath from his nose.

Your thighs tightened around his waist, his heavy hands squeezing your hips but not as to pressure you, only to keep you connected to him at the hilt so he was never too far out of you.

“That’s good, sweetheart, get it just like that… mmhmm.” Bruce swallowed heavily, voice low and raw as his eyebrows furrowed over darkened hazel eyes. Fingers thrumming on your skin as you pulsed around him, wetness seeping out of your full entrance and gliding down his length until it could leave a memorable darkened patch on the sheets.

You whined quietly, voice high pitched and greedy as the length of him filled you up and pressed into every soft wall surrounding him. He was always thick, always perfect, always felt so fucking good it made your muscles tense and spasm.

You rolled your body in that delectable way he liked once more, barely moving yet every part of him felt the sparks of pleasure thrum through his skin and make his thighs lock up.

Bruce groaned hotly at the action, eyes flickering down to the wet mess of where your pussy was sucking him in. It was messy, glistening, shared arousal in white strings of mutual attraction. His fingers dug into the flesh of your ass from where it sat perched on his strong thighs.

“Mm, fuck, honey.” Bruce breathed out gruffly more to himself than you when the sight of your wetness smeared all over him made his heart spike.

You didn’t respond, chin down to your chest and eyes closed as you focused on the pleasure in your own lower regions, the fullness and heaviness that filled you up and refused to part.

“Ohhh, feels so good-“ You gasped as a heavy spurt of pure pleasure sparked up your tummy, hole clenching around him tightly as an obscene gush of wetness leaked down his cock and onto his thighs.

Bruce licked his dry lips, eyes staring up at you heatedly; at the tightness of your shut eyes, the sweet moans gasping out of parted lips — lips, lips that were glossy and plush from all the needy kisses you shared with him just a mere moments ago.

He was enraptured by you, by your naked physique all soft and sweaty on top of him but he didn’t care. You were just so beautiful, pussy so perfect wrapped around him, squeezing his cock so good it made his mind fog up with indescribable pleasure.

“Yes, sweetheart, god, yesss…” Bruce agreed huskily, his head resting back on his pillow once more as you bucked your hips. His thighs tensed, toes curled, a grunt sounding in his throat as his hips rose to further dig himself inside you.

He couldn’t help it; like a soul to a light he sought you out, your warmth and tightness so snug and comforting around him he didn’t ever want to be apart from you.

You whimpered at the intrusion, nails digging into his skin in a painful sting that Bruce was too fucked out to really notice.

He swallowed hazily below you, eyes closing then opening to look down at the way your pussy molded into one with his hard cock as you rocked gently against him. Deep inside you where he was meant to be, stomach and pelvis and thick thighs soaked with your gushing arousal.

Fire shooting down his legs and tummy with every soft bounce back down on him, illicit wet noises sounding in the room with every desperate grind.

He loved that sound, your wetness mashing with his thick base. But not nearly as much as your melodic sounds gasping out every so often because his cock made you feel that good.

His mouth was terribly dry from his own grunts and moans, handsome face and muscular chest flushed pink, the air so so hot he could feel his own dark hair sticking to the dew on his fevered head.

His hands, big and clammy, dug into the soft fat of your hips to help you dig into him in that way you both liked, the one that had you both gasping hotly into each others mouths as you leaned down to give him another sloppy kiss.

You couldn’t quite get it right though, too distracted by the feel of him so deep inside you that your lips stuttered on his. Moving messily against him as you whined into his mouth once more, the tip of his cock so high up inside you it almost hurt.

He was always so big, so round and tall that the stretch alone always seemed to ache pleasurably with every short thrust he made inside you.

“That’s good, sweetheart… that’s it… just how you know I like it…”

Bruce breathed heavily against your lips from where you were leaned on top of him, naked breasts mashed to his chiseled chest and hands gripping onto the headboard now.

You needed something sturdy, something unbreakable to tether you back to him when you felt the pleasure making you float too far.

His breath was hot against your sore lips, mingled with your low moans and spoken just above the subtle creaks of the bed; sounding every time you moved above him in a sensually quickened pace that had your toes curling and thighs tensing.

“So beautiful, sweetheart, so good…”

Bruce couldn’t help but compliment you even in the most nasty of times, voice clenched yet breathy, spoken through hot breaths and pressed teeth as your wetness dripped down his length once more.

You moaned sweetly at his doting words, his voice cracked and low in that gravelly salacious tone you loved so much.

You clenched around him in response, his fingers tightening on you as he let out a handsome groan from the feeling. You watched as his head sunk into the pillow beneath him, eyes clenched shut and a heavy grunt leaving his chest.

The sight was attractive, seeing him so wrecked from just a few simple back and forth motions you were carefully orchestrating.

You felt a wave of stinging pleasure spike up your thighs and down your legs, up your tummy and into your head until your whole body was tingling. Your eyes brimming with unshed tears as sweat prickled at your skin and your legs burned from sitting for so long.

You didn’t care about the pain, too drunk on the sensations of his thickness rubbing inside the most intimate part of you, your hips rolling in desperate circular motions so he was never completely apart from you. You liked keeping him inside as much as possible, to feel that fullness and that dull burn to remind you of just how big he was.

Bruce loved it too, resting inside your warmth, comfortable, letting you take him however you wanted in whatever way you needed. He was always a giver, always a good husband when you needed him to be.

“F-fuck, Bruce, you feel so good.” You gasped wantonly, voice quiet yet fragmented, needy and breathless as your nails dug into his skin.

“Yeah, honey? It feels good?” Bruce replied just as quietly, being sure to thrust up into you just a little bit harder so you’d gasp some more for him.

It was lewd, lovely, his dirty words spoken onto your quivering lips and his meaty hands gripping your thighs to help aid in your eager movements.

It felt so good, so right, being there with him in the darkness of his room with only the sound of your shared panting and moans filling the silence.

It was hot and perfect; his hands on your thighs gripping hard enough to show you he doesn’t want you to stop, your mouths ever so often pecking together in a sweet kiss you couldn’t continue, fond gazes in darkened irises.

“Feels so good, Bruce, I can’t—“ You whimpered out all cutely, sliding up from his chest until you were sitting straight up once more. You could feel him shift inside of you, hardness still prominent and throbbing. He pressed against your walls, invading every nerve point as your clit rubbed against his naval in the new position.

Bruce gripped the flesh of your ass between his hands, helping your soft rocking motions against him as he spoke, “Yes you can, pretty girl, you always do for me. You’re doing so good, sweetheart, you have no idea…”

The praise made you smile brokenly. Your skin so hot it felt burning yet every grind against your husbands hard cock made your legs go numb. You whined and bucked above him as a tightness started to stretch in your tummy.

“Always for you, baby…” You managed to mumble shakily, lovingly, hands sliding over the abs on his stomach as you sat back on his lap so not a single inch of him wasn’t inside you.

Bruce clenched his jaw at that, hands digging into your hips as he thrust his own up to meet your soft grinds. Sparks, electricity, all of the cliche metaphors for how good he was feeling shooting down his cock and into his legs as his knees tensed up.

He felt lightheaded yet completely grounded, here to his mattress. Floating in the skies yet simultaneously stuck on earth with you, his gorgeous wife who always made him feel sane and normal.

Your hair was tangled around your shoulders and falling over your flushed cheeks as you stared down at him with a fond glimmer in your eyes, bright and burning under the lust so boldly wanting.

The stretch of him inside you was so good, his gravelly moans so good, the way he was making you feel so so good.

You exhaled as you settled your weight down on his pelvis, pussy sore yet eager as you squeezed around him once more. Love struck eyes looking down at him passionately as the moon cascaded a light gray glow behind you.

Bruce felt the air escape his lungs, lips parted as he stared up at you in utter devotion; you were so beautiful, so sweet, felt so fucking good around him he couldn’t even think straight. Brain numb and thoughtless, only you and your perfect pussy, you, you, you.

You took a moment to stare back at him. Unspoken love was whispered in the shadows of your eyes bright and glittering as your movements picked up into polite, subtle bounces that had Bruce digging his hands into you, breathy sounds escaping his lips.

“Ah, Bruce…” You mumbled weakly, voice soft and needy as you tossed your head back and moved your hips up and down so his cock was hitting that sweet spot inside you he usually loved to tease.

“Such a good job, sweetheart, so beautiful like this…” Bruce spoke huskily, staring at your heaving breasts as they jiggled and beckoned him forth, beautiful and pure as you rode him to high heaven in your most organic form.

You hummed into a delicate moan, a smile quirked on your lips at his praise as you felt his hands slowly start crawling up the exposed expanse of your waist.

Warm and big and tender as they moved up, up, gentle fingers tracing over your ribcage as your flesh prickled at the touch. He was delicate, always intent on your pleasure over his as he admired your form above him, the feel of your skin under his textured hands that had hurt so many.

You trusted him, your husband, enough to see you like this. Trusted him enough to have you like this, to allow his bloodstained hands to wash over you like he himself was something pure and untainted, bestowing him your presence like a merciful deity to their promised worshipper.

You bit your lip as his palms enveloped the fat of your breasts into them, molded perfectly into his larger hands as he squeezed and admired them in a fashion so familiar for him; he always loved your breasts, enamored with the softness and weight of them in his greedy hands.

You stared down at him with a heated tenderness, the look of a wife irrevocably in love with their husband as he stared up at you with the same fervor.

When he was here, with you, there were no labels, no obligations and no judgments. With you he was just yours, another body made of flesh and blood and bone melded to yours in the conjunction of where his body ended and yours began.

He was no one but he was your everything, hands on skin and lips on collarbones, sweat amongst sweat and heady moans breathed in the gasps of kisses shared between two lovesick spouses.

In this space, in this moment, with you on top of him and his hands all over you any remnants of shame and Wayne inspired obligation was vacant. All he needed to do was sit and let you take him, sit there and be of use when you wanted to use him.

He was a good husband, the best husband to you, his perfect and lovely wife who never addressed him as anything more than yours. He wasn’t this, he wasn’t that, he was just everything and more in the confines of silken sheets under the safety of his mansion.

No cameras, no gossip, no press and no watchful eyes. Serene, tranquil, just you and him and the great love you shared that transcended any label or common sense humanity could fathom.

Yes, he was Bruce Wayne. Eccentric billionaire, former eligible bachelor, orphan boy, son, rich playboy. But those things did not define him, did not set his reality in stone so easily as your love did. He was all those things but he was so much more.

You never judged him, looked at him as anything more than the most important thing. You regarded him with love no matter his past, his present, and hopefully and most likely your shared future.

You didn’t care for labels or surface value lies like everyone else did. You ripped him at his seams, tore him apart to see what was inside and he was ever so grateful for it, for that loving animosity that bared his soul to yours. You were straightforward, heart to heart or nothing at all because then what was the point?

There was no purpose without pain, without pleasure, without love. You suffered, you loved, and you were most definitely bringing him pleasure. All blunt and raw emotions too passionate and loud to ever try and hide or make lies about. No secrets, no deception, no labels.

This night, every night just like this one — nights spent in your arms deep inside where he needed to be most, were nights where his mind was bare and he was just yours. Nights when he didn’t have to put up a face or make up a lie or tell a tall tale.

He was Bruce, he was yours, he was just this. And most importantly, he was just your husband. The only label that really mattered and the only one he ever really cared about. ₊˚⊹♡

tagging , @little-miss-chaoss , @ghostslillady , @boobaeri , @prayingal

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Hiii I’m obsessed with your blog! Can you do one where Jason thinks that the reader is cheating on him with dick but it turns out dick is just teaching her self defense hehe

Don't tell Jason

Jason Todd x Reader

wc: 1.1 K summary: Jason thinks you're cheating, almost becomes a murder again, finds out you are just learning self-defense with Dick warnings: some violence, some insults a/n: THANKYOU FOR LIKING MY BLOG!!!!11!!1! this request is so funny actually, i really like it. hope you enjoy it! (divider @saradika)

It's the second time since last week that you're coming home exhausted and slightly disheveled from some hangout. He knows you've been hanging out with his older brother, and he trusts you both a lot, but this is getting strange. Muscle ache and soreness by your thighs and arms? Just what did you both do to be this worn out? Jason actually doesn't want to think about it, but he is pretty concerned that something is happening behind his back.

It doesn't make it better that you just pretend nothing is happening and seem to be yourself as usual. Is he really that better than him? No, you would never cheat on him. You promised to never leave him and all that after all. But he also can't ask you directly and accuse you of something like cheating. Jason's already dreading the truth and the way you'll look at him once he mentions it.

Laying in bed beside you, he massages your thighs gently with his warm hands, apparently sore after hanging out with Dick. Just what is this dickhead doing with you? The second time in a row as well. A sick feeling spreads in his gut as he thinks more about it, eventually nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck to calm down while continuing his soothing motions across your thighs.

The evening ends up with you both falling asleep as usual, however Jason has made up a rough plan. He needs to find out the truth. He could technically just ask you directly and stop overthinking, see if his suspicions are true or not. But no, he doesn't want to come off as desperate or stupid in front of you. It took him a lot of time to open up and be vulnerable with you in the first place, then having introduced you to his family once he was forced to. About a year after you started dating, you met his family in a rather chaotic dinner. But you didn't seem to mind, actually seemed to enjoy his big family and could make easy friends with all of them. Hell, even Damian doesn't seem to mind you.

Once you told Jason you'll be heading out with Dick again, he made sure you didn't notice him following you getting to the manor. He was surprised as you walked in with your own key, not having realised you had a key to the manor in the first place. Shrugging it off, he follows inside, well... rather breaks in, so you won't notice him being right behind you.

He stays in the hallway and watches you walk further into the house, cocking his head to the side once you go into the elevator that's usually used to get to the Batcave. Whatever this is, he is having even more thoughts and doubts, getting an even worse feeling about it all. Have you been hiding a secret identitiy from him and are teaming up with Dick? Why didn't you tell him when you know about his own vigilante-family-circus. He needs to know more. He needs to find out.

He follows right after once the elevator doors open again, getting spooked by Alfred.

»Master Jason. What's the occasion?«

The butler looks as neutral as always, but he can see the hint of a smile in his expression. Are they all teaming up against him? »Oh, Alfred... nothing, just, uh... just a small visit. Yeah... I'll be right back.«

Jason quickly steps into the elevator and presses the button to the Batcave, feeling a bit victorious that he could escape this poor distraction attempt. Now it's time to finally find out what this is all about. His fists clench and unclench, trying to keep his cool and not throw up from all this overthinking and possible situations.

The doors open and he basically storms out as quick as a bullet, halting once he hears heavy panting and small praises. He could never mistake your voice for someone else's and his heart sinks into the floor as he listens more to it. This is bad. Really, really bad.

Jason follows from where the sounds come from, being a little confused on why you're both in the Batcave. Sure, it's probably thrilling to possibly get caught, but... seriously, the Batcave? He didn't know you were into that kind of stuff.

He finally figures out where all the panting is coming from, arriving at the training area. He peeks from the corner, feeling his heart almost explode in his chest. But what he sees is entirely different from what he thought.

Dick is standing in front of you with his hands extended for you, both of your knuckles being bandaged up. You are throwing punches at his hands, focusing on your form and stance, while he gives you some feedback and occasional praises. It seems that you are both concentrated and focused, not noticing him at all and just continuing with... what even are you doing? It doesn't really look like a sparring session. But it also doesn't look like anything he imagined you two would be doing.

Eventually, he steps up and clears his throat loud enough to get both of your attention and stop for now. You light up once you see him, smiling and immediately start talking.

»Jason! Look, we've been training together, I asked him if he could teach me self-defense and he's been teaching me since last week. I'm pretty good at it, I can throw punches, kicks and get out of several pins or locks. He said I'm a natural.«

You decide to ignore his scowl and deathly glare towards Dick as you explain and walk up to him. Jason glances to you and can't help but soften up as he sees your smile, also stepping up to you and wrapping his arm possessively around you.

»You couldn't have asked me?« He questions and keeps his sharp eyes on Dick, who winces lightly at the sight of his brother tearing him apart with his gaze. He takes the sign however and takes a few steps away, leaving you some privacy.

»You are so busy with other stuff, I didn't want to bother you any more than necessary. I was planning on asking you, but Dick is also a great teacher.« You answer him as you lean into his side, stretching your arms, looking up at him.

»Oh, I'm sure.« He grits out and finally tears his eyes away from his brother, looking back to you with a softer expression. Seems like he was indeed overthinking and thinking lowly of you. There's no way you would cheat on some prick like Dick. You notice he still seems to be more on edge, tilting your head at him.

»What did you think we were doing?« You narrow your eyes at him, making him gulp down and start to feel even more stupid.

»Nothing!« Jason manages to answer you quickly, earning a scoff and slap against his chest in return.

a/n: RIP Dick Grayson, you'll be missed. Cause of Death: Missunderstanding from Jason. Hope you enjoyed it!

←MASTERLIST

[n0cturn4]

Was it worth it?

Character: Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader Summary: In his arms, with the last breath of life Word Count: 948 Music: Hurt Like Hell - Madison Beer

The abandoned building loomed in dark ruins, like a monument to oblivion, its peeling walls and partially open ceiling letting in only scattered drops of the rain outside. The dense shadows of dusk seemed to hold a vigil around us, and the heavy air carried the smell of rust and dampness, so thick it felt as if time itself was trapped there, holding everything stagnant except for the pain.

And then, in the middle of that desolate scene, my eyes found her. She was leaning against the wall, pale, her trembling lips shaped into an expression of exhaustion that no battle could explain, one hand pressed against the open wound on her torso. Blood slipped between her fingers, slow and dark, as if each drop was being pulled from the very essence of her. My heart clenched at the sight, realizing this was no longer one of the many wounds we healed in silence. This was something far deeper, a kind of sacrifice that should never have been hers to make.

She lifted her eyes to mine as she sensed my presence, her face marked by an exhaustion that went beyond the physical, an exhaustion that burned into the soul. Yet still, she managed a tremulous smile—a smile that, somehow, seemed more of a farewell than a greeting. Leaning against the wall, her frail and fading body seemed to struggle against an invisible weight pulling her down, as if the simple act of continuing to breathe demanded every fragment of strength she still possessed.

“Why…?” The question escaped my lips in a whisper barely audible, tearing through the oppressive silence surrounding us. I moved toward her, each step heavy, each movement carrying the weight of what I knew I couldn’t fix. I knelt by her side, my knees pressing into the dirty, damp ground, but none of that mattered. I was so close that I could see the contours of the bloodstains on her clothes, the dark color I knew so well but had never wanted to see there, on her.

She tried to speak, but the sound came out weak, sliced through by the pain. Her lips trembled slightly, and I saw hesitation in her gaze, as if she was afraid to let me know everything that was inside her. I touched her hand, feeling the warmth of life slipping between our fingers as she struggled to find the words. There was something solemn and irreversible in her eyes, as if she had already accepted a fate I still refused to see.

“I… I wanted to protect you, Dad.” Her voice was faint, a breath barely reaching my ears, but every word carried the determination of someone who knew that sacrifice was inevitable. “I knew the risks… knew it would be a one-way road… but I didn’t care. It was my choice.”

I felt my throat tighten, swallowing hard, trying to contain the unbearable weight now crushing my chest. There, in the middle of the shadows, with my daughter fighting for each second of life, the mantle of Batman felt useless. I was nothing but a father, and watching my daughter fade in my arms was a suffering no battle could prepare me for. I held her hand tighter, as if I could anchor her to life, as if I could convince her to stay.

“You didn’t have to do this.” My words came out shaky, almost like a murmur of despair. “I should… I should have protected you… should have stopped you… never should have let you walk down this path.”

She gave a faint smile, that sad and tired smile that bore a courage I had never seen before. Her eyes, even weakened, met mine with a depth that destroyed me inside. She knew, knew everything, and still, she looked at me with an acceptance that felt greater than any understanding I could have.

“Was it worth it?” The question escaped my mouth almost without thinking, a mixture of pain, guilt, and the desperate hope that, somehow, her words could relieve me of this weight that seemed to crush my soul. I needed to believe that all of this wasn’t in vain, that everything she had endured had a greater purpose.

She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling almost imperceptibly. Her trembling hand touched my face, a final gesture of affection, and when she spoke, each word came out in a whisper laden with unshakable strength:

“It was worth it, Dad… it was worth it, because I would do it all over again, just to know you’re still here. I was never just your daughter… I am your shadow, and that is my part in your legacy. You gave me purpose. Now, you have to go on, even if I’m not here. You have to keep Gotham safe… that’s the path I chose, for you.”

She closed her eyes, and her hand slipped softly from mine, leaving her last breath to escape her lips. I remained there, holding her in my arms, feeling the weight of loss rooting itself within me, a profound emptiness taking over what had once been a simple desire to fight. The rain outside seemed to intensify, as if the city mourned the loss of a silent heroine, a warrior who had sacrificed herself for something greater than herself.

For a long time, the only sound that filled the space was that of the rain, like a sad melody merging with the emptiness left behind. And I knew, there and forever, that this sacrifice was the greatest Gotham had ever demanded of me—a sacrifice I would carry with me for the rest of my life, a sacrifice that, as she had said, was now an inseparable part of who I was.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Sometimes you often forgot just how big Jason was in terms of physicality.

He was like a towering monster whose shadow could encase you but it was warm, protective and secure, leaving you feeling like the most safest person in Gotham.

You often forgot how big his hands were until his callouses were pressed against the back of your hand, hiding yours completely from sight as he closed his hand fully enveloped yours whole, keeping them warm from the cold that he knew you had a love/hate relationship with.

You forgot how effortlessly you could burrow yourself into his broad back, big enough to hide yourself behind whenever you felt fear, or just needed to be close to Jason in order to feel something in general as you nuzzled your face between his shoulder blades and hearing his strong heart beat that grounded you from just about anything.

You could hide away behind him and no one would be none the wiser until Jason stepped to the side, which he never did as he always assumed his position as your wall rather seriously, too stubborn to move for anyone who wasn’t you.

Jason has the physique that is told in Greek mythology, his hands were strong, his thighs were sturdy and powerful as his back and chest were nothing to scoff at either. He was beautiful with all his scars and callouses, for he was the most beautiful man to you who never failed to read chapters from his book to help you sleep, all the while he cradled your form against his larger one.

You often forget about Jason’s physical stature because it didn’t matter to you how big he was, or how strong he was because at the end of the day he was your Jason, he was the man you loved so dearly as you kissed his scars tenderly and caressed his callouses with softness as though you’ll hurt him somehow if you pressed too hard.

He was a giant teddy bear with you and you could only see the sweet, literature dork of a man who holds you close to his chest as though you were his personal teddy bear. His stature and physique didn’t frighten you, it reassured you and comforted you in more ways than one.

You forgot about his physique when his personality shone brighter for you to pay more attention to, his big strong arms that held you from behind, pulling you to his chest were merely a bonus as you snuggled into his neck and pressed kisses to under his jaw and making him hum in content. He was your sweet jay bird who always put you first no matter what, his unwavering loyalty left no room for insecurity or doubt within your relationship as you had found the perfect man in Jason Todd.

A man with flaws and errors of the past etched into his skin, but to you he couldn’t be more perfect as he smiled and laughed with you while keeping you close to him, as though afraid you’ll disappear but you’re more then willing to cling on to him in return…even if your hands don’t meet when returning his embrace in due to how big he was in general.

Yet still he was your precious Jason who was perfectly imperfect in your eyes, his towering and intimidating stature was merely a bonus to the awkward but endearing man that laid beneath.

[shadowsndaisies]

the beginning

a/n: part one of the brightest of lights white lantern!reader AU!!! im so excited to share this with you as part of my resolution to posting more often, especially the wips that have been sitting stagnant for so long. it's the first time in a while that i get to return to jason todd, my number 1 always.

main masterlist

the brightest of lights masterlist

wc: 4.2k

“Batcave to Outlaws,” Dick Grayson’s voice flooded the speakers of your new hideout and you heard Jason let out a groan.

“What’s up, Batcave?” you smirk, answering the call.

“Why would you answer?” Jason chided as Dick’s face filled the screen. ���You know we don’t like them,” he huffs from where he was sharpening one of his blades.

“I’m bored and their calls usually give me something to do,” you muse.

“Ding! Ding! Ding! The lady is correct. I do have something for you guys,” Dick chimes with a playful smile and Jason shakes his head.

“Fine, I’ll play. What do you want?” Jason asked, moving to stand beside where you were seated at the computer.

“Batman is already on-sight but there was a major crash right on the edge of Gotham. It seems like it’s from space,” Dick teases, and your lips part in excitement as you turn to Jason.

“You had to say space, didn’t you?” Jason sighed looking at you and then to Dick.

“C’mon, Jase, please!” you pleaded.

“If you’re going to go, you should hurry, I think Batman’s gonna call Green Lantern,” a new face appeared on screen, Tim Drake, or Red Robin.

“You know you both are enabling her?” Jason says to his brothers as you shot up from your chair to grab your gear.

“Not our fault your partner’s cooler than you,” Tim smirks.

“You keep this shit up, Timbers, watch what happens,” Jason growled.

You slung your leather jacket on and put on your utility belt before moving back to the screen to grab your phone. “I will leave you here Jason,” you tell him as you slip the device into a lined pocket on the inside of your jacket.

“Damnit, (Y/n), just give me a second,” he sighed, moving from the screen.

“Thanks for the tip, Batcave,” you smile at the two.

“We know you’re a bit of an astrophile,” Dick smiled kindly.

“Yeah, you space-loving geek. What a nerd,” Tim snorted, rolling his eyes in amusement.

“See ya, boys,” you smiled into the camera, “Outlaws, out,” you finished before shutting the call off.

“I don’t understand your obsession with space,” Jason commented as you both mounted your bikes.

“My obsession? Really?” you shoot him a look as you tap your choker, the nanotechnology there crawled over your face producing a helmet of sorts.

“Hey some people like Disney, you like space, I’m not judging, I just don’t get it,” he sighed.

Revving your engine you look over to your partner, “What’s not to get?” you ask, voice slightly distorted before taking off.

By the time you arrived at the crash site, Green Lantern was there talking with Batman, “And here I thought I’d be able to get through a week without having to see him,” Jason drawled and your nanotech helmet dissolved once more leaving you with just your domino mask and choker.

“Play nice, I want to see the spaceship,” you warn your best friend.

You couldn’t see his eyes due to the red helmet but you were positive he was rolling them at your antics. Looping your arm with his you pulled Jason over to where GL and B were.

“Red Hood, I didn’t expect to see you here,” Batman’s eyes narrowed on the two of you.

“Yeah, it’s nice to see you too, Bats,” you smile at the dark knight.

“What are you doing here?” he pressed, pushing past your antics.

“Why can’t we just be doing our jobs as vigilantes to check in on crashes, like this one?” Jason asked, nonchalantly, and while the two leaguers turned to the man with the red helmet, you carefully slipped away.

You had been learning from Jason a lot lately, watching the way he walked, for someone so large and well built, he made virtually no sound. So, as light as you could, you slunk away from the three in discussion and closer to the crash site. The first thing you noticed was that there was a lot of smoke. You pulled your jacket off your body and bundled it up a bit to make a breathable mask for the moment being as you crept through. You also made a mental note to add filters to your helmet for future events like this. You weren’t really sure what you were looking for, but you kept moving, and all of a sudden you found yourself by what had to be the cockpit of his small ship.

“Damnit, (y/n), you couldn’t wait a few minutes?” Jason’s voice crackled over the comms.

You were about to respond when you saw something shift through the smoke, “Holy shit. Red, I think there’s someone alive in the crash,” you said instead, creeping ever closer to the crash.

“What?” he shot back.

“Someone or something alive is in this wreckage, Jase,” you repeat.

“Wait for me,” Jason pleads.

“Fat chance, Red Hood. Hurry up,” you decide as you find an opening.

Carefully you move through the ship, it was about the size of a shipping container, but it had broken into pieces in the crash.

“Hello?” you shouted, squinting through the smoke. “Is someone there?”

There was a flash of white light and a hushed whisper. Definitely a voice, maybe two, but you couldn’t make out what they were saying. Biting down on your lip you surged forwards. Once you cleared a very thick plume of smoke you found what you had been looking for. A body.

It was alien, without a doubt, and he was clad in a white uniform that you most definitely recognized.

“Jase?” you tapped on the comms line, with wide eyes, as you stared at the creature.

Whatever it was, it was bleeding purple blood and its eyes were shut.

“What? What’d you find?” he asked, you could hear him panting a bit.

“It’s a Lantern, I have absolutely no clue what race, but it’s definitely a Lantern,” you shared, but your eyes were analyzing the suit, it was different from the ones you’d see from the Green Lanterns, this one was white, but the design was basically the same.

“What? GL said that no other members of the Green Lantern Corps were detected on Earth,” Jason’s voice crackled a bit.

“I never said it was green,” you shoot back.

Suddenly the being coughed and its eyes opened wide, you surged forward, towards the being, dropping your jacket and your hands moving to the spots that were bleeding.

“Just hold on, alright, help will be here soon,” you whispered as you tried to help the alien.

It’s vibrant purple eyes, focused on you, as you hoped that their physiology was something like your own.

“A Terran, how unforeseen,” it spoke softly and your eyes widened.

This alien whatever it was, was speaking straight into your head.

“Forgive me, but by connecting us, I can assure a clean understanding without a language barrier,” it continued.

“Oh, okay, sure,” you swallowed, even though you really had no clue what was happening.

“I’m afraid, Terran, I will not make it through this,” the being let out what seemed to be a sigh.

“I don’t really know how to help,” you admit.

“Tell me, Terran, do you love? Have you compassion? Hope? Are there things you fear? Things you wish to claim for yourself? Are you angry? Do you possess the strength to balance all of these emotions?” the creature’s voice was gravelly in your mind but you kept your place.

“I-I mean I guess so?” you offered. “Doesn’t everybody?”

“Hmm, show me. Show me the things that you relate to these emotions,” it pushed. “Begin with Anger.”

A memory flashed before your eyes, the night you met Jason. You had just started the vigilante thing when you saw a couple kids getting cornered in crime alley. Some gang that was trying to recruit them had backed them into a dead end. You had left them knocked out and zip tied to a wall with a note for the cops. But those kids, you made sure they were okay, it pissed you off to see good kids stuck in crappy situations, and there were so many of them.

“Hmm, angry for the violence and pain inflicted on others? Interesting,” it hummed, “now, what of greed?” your surprise was definitely clear, this thing, whatever it was, was reading your mind.

This time the memory was the first time you walked through Wayne Manor. It was so huge, and everything you had dreamed about as a kid on the streets. Something that you had always wanted, a life of luxury, and yet it seemed so foreign, it still did.

“What do you fear?”

You saw Jason bleeding on your sofa, two bullet wounds, a cut. You weren’t much better, the two of you had barely made it out of this last fight with your lives. You remembered the day so vividly because Jason had almost died trying to save you.

“And hope, do you possess the purest of all?” he continued.

There’s a little girl on her dad’s shoulders, they’re at the park, she’s giggling and he’s smiling up at her. Jason, Roy, and Kori were with you, the group had decided to take a chill day. There were cups of lemonade, a couple of books, a speaker and you were lounging about in one of the rare sunny days here in Gotham. These were the days that reminded you why you fought so hard, they reminded you of what you were protecting.

“What is compassion, Terran?

It’s almost funny what memory surfaces this time. You’re leaning back against a brick wall in the Narrows, eyes bright as you keep watch. Jason’s crouched down with a bunch of kids around him. He’s giving them lollipops, clothes, blankets; all in all, about a grand’s worth of stuff. You knew that because it was money you had raided from Black Mask a few days earlier.

“Why are you asking me these things? Who are you? What are you?” you interrupted, this thing was reading your mind, and you were trying your best to force it out.

“I will answer your questions, but there is one more. Do you have one to love?” it asked and your breath hitched, because you knew exactly where that would send you.

You saw yourself back at the hideout with Jason; cleaning guns, sharpening blades, watching a movie, and passing out together on the sofa. He was all you needed.

“Hmm, how interesting. Maybe you Terrans have an inaccurate reputation,” it hummed. “You will make an excellent choice.”

“What are you talking about?”

“My name is Ophelius, I am the last ring-bearer of the White Lanterns. And you, you will be my successor,” Ophelius shared and your eyes bulged. “What is your name, Terran?

“Woah, what?”

“Your name,” he pushed.

“(Y/n),” you answered and he nodded.

“A white lantern must embody all the emotions, all the spectrums of the light. You must feel everything, and most of all, you must balance them. Your emotions will be your saving grace but lose balance, fall unevenly to any and you will destroy yourself and everything around you,” he warned.

“Ophelius, just hold on. A Green Lantern is on the way, he’ll be able to save you,” you tried to reason.

“No, there is no time to wait for Oa’s warrior. Listen to me Terran, remember these words, they will be your connection to all those before you, to the power of the light, and to the balance within,” Ophelius warned and he raised his hand to you, four fingers of light green skin, one of which was adorned with a white ring.

“In brightest day there will be light,” he said solemnly and the ring began to glow with a bright white light. “To cleanse the soul and set wrongs right,” he continued and the ring slowly lifted from his finger. “When darkness falls, look to the skies,” it spun carefully in the air, enveloping you and Ophelius in this white light. “A new dawn comes,” the ring placed itself on your finger, “let there be light,” Ophelius finished and the light died away, leaving you in white and Ophelius who looked even paler than before.

“Ophelius,” you muttered his name carefully.

“Be the brightest of lights, (y/n),” he whispered once more and he fell back gently against the ground.

“(Y/n)!” you heard Jason shout your name but your eyes stayed glued to the now-dead alien.

“(Y/n)!” that was Green Lantern’s voice.

“Damnit, (Y/n), where are you?” Jason called out again.

“Ophelius?” you whispered his name but there was no response, the alien was dead and he had left you with the last ring of the White Lanterns.

A hand landed on your shoulder and as you turned your eyes met the cowl covered ones of the Batman. His costume was such a stark contrast to what you were now wearing. Your previous attire had been your costume, a black armour-padded halter top, utility belt, military-grade camoflauge-printted dark cargo pants with a kevlar weave and combat boots. Now? Now you were wearing the exact same thing in white, but it felt different somehow, like there was something thrumming in each thread.

“Here,” the Bat’s gravelly voice called out.

A second later Jason came bounding through the smoke, the Green Lantern right behind him. GL’s eyes narrowed on the alien and then on you.

“That’s impossible,” he muttered.

“Woah,” Jason noted.

“He’s dead,” you whispered, staring at the pale alien and straight into his lifeless purple eyes.

“(Y/n)?” Jason crept closer and squatted down beside you.

“I didn’t think he was going to die,” you whispered, looking at the alien and then to your hands which were covered in his purple blood.

“Hey, doll,” Jason said the term softly, forcing you to look at him, “what’s going on in your head?”

“I just wanted to see the spaceship,” you admitted turning to Jason with glassy eyes.

“What did he say?” Green Lantern interrupted.

“Be the light,” you muttered.

“What?” GL pressed.

“He told me to be the light,” you repeated, eyes still glued to the dead alien.

Shakily you reached your hand out, and gently you shut the alien’s eyes, a tear slipping down your cheek, Ophelius had read our life in seconds, but his presence was still so fresh in your mind, it hurt more than you were expecting when he died.

“We need to debrief her at the Watchtower, now,” Green Lantern pushed.

“No, you need to back off,” Jason growled suddenly.

“Hood, stand down,” Batman warned.

“Back off, old man,” Jason threatened, standing back up. “She’s in shock, you robots!”

“Red,” your hand automatically moves towards his side. Gently it rests against his hip and he turns to you. “Hood,” your fingers grip into one of his thigh holsters, needing something to hold onto.

“Let’s go,” Jason huffed.

He grabbed your hand, not caring about the purple blood now on his own hands and suit, and helped you up, one hand went to your back almost immediately as he forced you to move forward.

“Jase,” you said his name softly as he pulled you away from Ophelius’ body. “Jay, stop,” you fight his hand as you force him to stop moving.

“What, doll? What is it?” he asked, hands moving to your arms.

“We have to go with them,” you mutter.

“No way. We’re not doing their dance, not today, not now,” he argued.

Your gaze dropped to your stained hands, and the ring now on your finger, “we have to.”

Safe to say Jason was not pleased to end up in the Batcave twenty minutes later. Sure, it was better than the Watchtower, but it was still more than he wanted. But you were going, and if you were going then so was he. You were his partner and there was no way he was going to leave you in any Justice League madness on your own. Your hands were still stained purple, he hadn’t even given you a chance to clean up before deciding to start the lecture. Surprisingly, it wasn’t Batman, this time it was GL.

“-absolutely reckless, going out on your own into an uncleared sight. Touching an alien that you didn’t know, talking with it instead of calling us? I mean what kind of bullheaded move is that!” you would have laughed if he wasn’t yelling at you. Hal Jordan was usually one of the more relaxed Leaguers, so this was very uncharacteristic.

“Give it a rest, Hal,” Jason finally groaned.

“I haven’t even gotten to you, yet, I mean you let her wander off,” Hal reared.

“I let her?” Jason scoffed. “In case you missed it, she’s a fully grown woman!” Jason shot back.

“Oh, for the love of god,” you interrupted. “Are you going to help me or not, Hal?” you asked him, hands flat on the table while you stood, looking at him definitely, everybody’s masks were off at this point as you addressed each other.

GL seemed taken aback by your abrupt interruption because for a second he just gaped.

“Oh, now he has nothing to say,” Jason scoffed and you leveled your best friend with a look.

“Jason, not helping,” you tell him, he simply sighed and sat back down.

“Look, Hal, this happened and you know better than anyone whether we want it or not, this ring is mine, so you can help me or you can get out of my way,” you lamented, and he sighed, shoulders dropping.

“You don’t understand,” he shared.

“Understand what?” you pressed.

“The White Lantern’s were supposed to be extinct. The power that comes with a White Lantern’s Light is categorically insurmountable,” he explained and your brows furrowed.

“What?” you repeated.

“You encompass all the colors, (y/n)! All of them! As a Green Lantern I focus on the powers of Green. We are the middle of the spectrum, we maintain the balance, but white? White is all the colors, you can’t focus solely on one in risk of losing balance. You have to learn to balance it all.”

“She can do it,” Jason argued.

“It takes years!” Hal shot back, “She doesn’t even know the Lantern’s spectrum!” he negated and your brain made the connection.

“Love, Compassion, Hope, Fear, Greed, and Anger,” you mutter.

“What did you say?” GL’s head snapped back to you in seconds.

“That’s what he asked me about, he read my mind, looked into my memories. Specifically of Love, Compassion, Hope, Fear, Greed, and Anger,” you tell them, and Hal finally shuts his mouth.

“What else did he say?” Batman spoke up for the first time since arriving back at the cave, his cowl was off as he stared at you.

“A mantra,” you tell him.

“A mantra?” Jason repeated, eyebrow quirked.

“In brightest day there will be light, to cleanse the soul, and set wrongs right. When darkness falls, look to the skies. A new dawn comes, let there be light,” you repeat, the words tugging at your gut as your fingers fidget with the new ring.

“Sounds familiar,” Bruce noted, turning his attention back to the Green Lantern.

Hal ran a hand over his face and groaned.

“I don’t get it,” you admit.

“The ring is only part of it,” He begins, unsurely. “It’s powerful, sure, but most of the colored lantern corps need to recharge the ring with a battery. We all have a, how’d you call it, a mantra? Yeah, we all have one. It’s different for each spectrum, and we use it to pull the energy from the battery to the rings, but a white lantern is different, there is no battery,” he explained and your brows furrowed.

“Okay… so how do I recharge?” you asked.

“Through your own energy,” Hal admits and you blink at him.

“What, like draining her own life source?” Jason scoffed.

“Not exactly, it’s supposed to be more like channeling the different emotions into energy for the rings, if done right there should be no negative side effects. But like I stated she’s not prepared, it can take years to learn how to channel your energy the right way, and if she’s not, she could kill herself.”

“That’s not terrifying at all,” you sarcastically assure Hal.

“Hey, I’m not the one who told you to run off!” he countered. “You were irresponsible! And reckless! Honestly, what were you thinking, galavanting off into some crash before the smoke’s even cleared!” he's shouting again and it’s starting to piss you off.

Your fist clenches and then you’re standing up again, “Stop shouting at me!”

Your chest is heaving as you glare at the lantern, but instead of glaring back at you, he’s staring with wide eyes.

“Woah,” Jason's murmur is what pulls your attention.

“What?” you snap, gaze shifting to him.

“Doll,” Jason’s voice was as soft as it’s ever been, “you’re glowing.”

Jason’s eyes were also a bit wide and when you stared down at your hands, you saw that he was right. A sort of white glow seemed to be emanating from your body, in fact it was lighting up the whole cave.

“I- I don’t-” you stuttered.

“This is what I’m talking about, you’re not balancing your emotions!” Hal began again. “You’re letting the Entity take control!”

“Hal,” Bruce finally spoke up, effectively stopping the lantern. He stalked closer to you and a heavy hand came down on your shoulder. You met his eyes and he nodded gently, “take a breath, (Y/n),” he instructed. You nodded and took a deep inhale. “Again,” he told you once you had exhaled, and you followed his instructions.

You repeated the process a few times but you noticed as the light began to fade and your heart rate settled.

He turned to Hal, “Control is teachable, Hal. Curiosity isn’t,” he reminded him.

You stared at Bruce for a second, there were moments when you could see the dad in him showing, and you could never reconcile that version of him with the Bat. They seemed like two completely different people, it was easy to understand Jason’s irritation. Living with someone who could be so different depending on the hour would take a toll on anyone for sure. Your gaze shifted from Bruce to Hal with a furrowed brow, “What Entity?” you press.

“What?” he stuttered.

“You said that the Entity was taking control, what Entity?” you asked.

Hal sighed before finally collapsing in a chair, “The White Lanterns are the physical embodiment of the Entity, which is the power of life itself. White Lanterns are dangerous and unpredictable, Kyle was closest we’ve ever seen to a true White Lantern. But even then, he was a Green Lantern first, and the Entity reverted him back to the Green Lanterns after. You’re wearing the first real White Lantern ring I’ve ever seen. It’s not like the ones Kyle created, and that’s alarming because it just reminds me that there is so much we don’t know about White Lanterns.”

“So you’re saying that the force behind the White Lanterns is life itself, and it manifests as an Entity which has no real form but white light. Which is why it needs me, a ring bearer?” you surmise, squinting at Hal as you put things together.

“Yes,” he nods and you turn back to Bruce.

“What do you think?” you asked him seriously and Bruce just stared at you.

You may not be his biggest fan most days, but there was no doubt that Bruce Wayne was a brilliant critical thinker, and if anyone could help you right now, it was going to be him. “I think the rings choose the wearer. Meaning nothing short of killing you will result in removing the ring’s attachment to you,” he begins and your brow quirked.

“We are not killing her!” Jason interrupted, and the corners of your lips quirked.

“There’s only one thing to do, train,” Bruce agreed with a small smirk.

“Train?” you repeat.

“And who do you think is going to train her?” Hal interrupted.

“I’d expect it to be you, Jordan, or any of your counterparts, though I do feel both you and John Stewart would have better luck when compared to Guy Gardner, Jessica Cruz and Kyle Rayner,” Bruce shot back and Hal’s eyes blew wide.

“Me?” Hal shot back. “What do I know about training anyone?” he scoffed.

“There’s a learning curve,” Bruce shrugged, eyes lingering on Jason for a second.

“Your nonchalance is inspiring,” you muse, eyes darting over to Jason who was now focused on Hal.

“No dead birds, Jordan,” Jason warns, and you almost choke on your responding laugh.

...

a/n: ps: i know i play a little fast and loose with the lantern rules, im open to suggestions!

everything tags: @butterfly-skinnylegend

dc taglist: @batarella @loninctzencarat @escapenightmare @uh-oh-howd-i-get-here

[dc-gotham-instincts-wild]

Four Days, Tim? Again? Really? (DC Batfam Fic)

(Summary: Tim's not sleeping. His brothers intervene.) ---

Tim opened the fridge with the practiced ease of someone who had long since memorized the layout of his kitchen. He reached for an energy drink—something to power him through the inevitable late-night work he’d be buried under soon enough.

"Hey Timmers," Jason called from the doorway, his voice light, but with that familiar edge of mischief.

Tim, without turning around, responded in his usual dry tone. "Hy J'sin."

Jason’s footsteps clicked closer, his eyes narrowed "What's the date and time right now?"

Tim squinted at the fridge’s little clock. "Mmm... last I checked, it was January 5, half-past ten PM," he muttered, taking the drink out and twisting off the cap.

Jaso paused, eyes widening, before he raised an eyebrow, stepping closer, his eyes glinting with the kind of amusement that usually spelled trouble. "Baby bird. Today's January 9."

The moment Jason said it, Tim froze, hand still gripping the half-empty energy drink can like a lifeline. His brain stuttered, calculating furiously. January 9. Four days. Four days or more of no sleep for, and—oh no, Dick was yelling.

"Get him!"

Tim's survival instincts kicked in.

Dropping the can, he spun on his heel and bolted, barely ducking the net Damian flung at him (Where did he get that?). The mesh hit the fridge with a clang and slid down uselessly.

"You're going to pay for that!" Alfred's voice rang out faintly from the next room, but it was already too late for warnings.

"Tim, stop running and go to bed!" Dick yelled as he vaulted over the counter.

"Absolutely not! I still have work!" Tim shouted back, skidding around the corner and making a beeline for the staircase. He didn't even know where he was going—he just knew he couldn't let them catch him.

Jason, however, had the predatory instincts of a bloodhound. He cut off Tim’s escape route by vaulting over the banister and landing squarely in front of the staircase.

Tim barely managed to skid to a halt.

"Whoa, hey, let's talk this out—" Tim started, but Jason’s smirk was already in place.

"Four days, Replacement. Four days -or maybe more- you’ve been up without a single nap. You think you're getting out of this?"

Jason lunged, but Tim, used to escaping his big brothers, ducked under his arms and bolted back toward the kitchen.

“DRAKE!” Damian yelled, already giving chase again.

Tim glanced over his shoulder and regretted it immediately. Damian had discarded the net and was brandishing a bola instead.

“Why do you even have that?!” Tim screeched, diving behind the couch.

“For moments like this, obviously!”

Duke walked in, and frowned. He caught Alfred's look and quickly locked the doors and windows leading outside. Then he joined the chase. With his phone camera.

“Guys, c’mon, it’s not that big a deal!” Tim yelled, already scrambling toward the hallway.

“Not a big deal?” Dick’s voice was closer now. “Tim, you passed out standing twice last month! This intervention is happening whether you like it or not!”

Tim didn’t have time to argue before Jason caught grabbed him by the back of his hoodie and hauled him into the air. He kicked his legs uselessly, trying to wiggle free.

“Jason! C’mon! Let’s be reasonable here—”

Jason’s laugh was dark and smug. “You’ve been running on caffeine and spite for four days or more, and now it’s time for your crash. Literally.”

“Put me down!” Tim shrieked, flailing like a cat being carried to the bathtub.

“Oh, I’ll put you down,” Jason said, unbothered. “Right into bed.”

Tim twisted to look at Damian, who had stopped at Jason’s side, smugly crossing his arms. “Damian, help me!”

“Tt. I am helping. I’m ensuring you stop disgracing yourself with this pathetic self-neglect.”

Duke caught up and shook his head. "I'm with Damian and Jason on this one. Sorry, Tim."

Dick appeared a second later, out of breath but victorious. “We’ve got him. Let’s move.”

“Guys,” Tim pleaded, as Jason threw him over one shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “C’mon, I have stuff to do! You don’t understand—”

“Oh, we understand,” Dick interrupted, cutting him off. “You’re gonna take a nap, and then we’ll talk about what’s so important it was worth shaving years off your lifespan.”

Tim groaned as Jason carried him up the stairs, Duke, Damian and Dick trailing behind. He knew there was no getting out of this.

“Traitors, all of you,” Tim muttered.

Jason snorted. “You’ll thank us after a twelve-hour nap, Timmers.”

As Jason dumped him unceremoniously onto his bed and Dick practically tucked him in like a disapproving mother hen (Well, more like a worried big brother), Tim realized there was no escape.

Damian stood at the foot of the bed, smug and victorious. Duke stacked up the case files on the desk and kicked the files on the bed off the bed.

The last thing Tim saw before his exhaustion overtook him was Jason taping a sticky note to his nightstand.

When he woke hours later, bleary-eyed but undeniably well-rested, he spotted the note.

"Sleep or die, Replacement. Love, your idiot brothers.

And next time, we're gonna tell Dad and have him catch you. And don't we all know that the big Bat can catch a Robin."