#dc x reader

[dollishmehrayan]

# “WOULD YOU DO ANYTHING FOR ME?, BUY A BIG DIAMOND RING FOR ME?” ── .✦ ( how batboys act when they’re engaged w reader )

dollish note ౨ৎ: I lowkey crashed out over losing Americans on tiktok but this woke up to post on tumblr but hey, also can we talk about how trump used that as a pr stunt && thought we wouldn’t notice wtf like omgg the way many americans caught on, alsoo please leave some motivation for me because I just kinda lost motivation for this app after the tiktok thingy went down 🫠 tags: (batboys x engaged!reader)

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

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Over the moon and not afraid to show it. Dick tells everyone the second you say yes. Alfred? He knows. Random stranger in the grocery store? The metro security guy?, Yep, they know too. He’s got that goofy, lovestruck grin plastered on his face 24/7.

Wedding planning enthusiast. You thought you’d do most of the planning? Wrong. Dick’s fully invested, showing you Pinterest boards of venues, color schemes, and “Do you think Nightwing blue (dollish note: I think ‘#3366CC’ perhaps?) would be tacky for the napkins?”

Gets sappy at random times. You’ll catch him staring at you with a dreamy look, and when you ask why, he just shrugs. “I’m just thinking about how lucky I am.”, “Dick calm down you only proposed like 2 weeks ago.”

Brags to the Batfam constantly. “Guys, I’m going to be a husband! Can you believe it? Me! Richard Grayson!” Bruce pretends to be joyful a bit but he’s done hearing it for the 777x time but even he cracks a small smile when Dick won’t shut up about you.

Practices saying his vows in the mirror. You walked in on him once, and he was mortified. “Okay, but you didn’t hear the good part yet!”, “You literally finished the whole paper !!”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Acts like it’s not a big deal, but it’s huge for him. He’ll play it cool at first, saying something like, “It’s just a ring, babe.” But deep down, he’s nervous, excited, and trying not to let it show.

Keeps the engagement low-key. Jason’s not one for flashy announcements or grand gestures. He wants this to be something special between you two, not the whole world.

Protective x10. Now that you’re officially going to be his spouse, Jason is extra watchful. He’s already looking into ways to keep you safe and makes sure you’re never caught in the crossfire of his vigilante life.

Wants you to be 100% comfortable. He checks in with you constantly about the wedding plans. “We don’t have to do anything big, okay? Just say the word, and it’s done.” He’ll let you take the lead but secretly loves when you include him.

Teases you with the whole “fiancé” thing. “Hey, fiancée. Can you grab my coffee? Oh, did I mention you’re my fiancée now?” It’s his way of hiding how excited he really is.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Nervous wreck but totally in love. Tim overthinks everything after proposing. Did he pick the right ring? Did he say the right words? Is he even ready to be a husband? But every time he sees you smile, it calms him down.

Keeps it practical. Tim doesn’t want a huge engagement party or a grand wedding. He’s more focused on what your future together will look like your shared goals, finances, and making sure you’re both on the same page.

Researches marriage like it’s a mission. He has books on successful relationships, listens to podcasts, and even makes a checklist for wedding planning. You find it adorable when he starts using color coded spreadsheets.

Loves when you call him your fiancé. The first time you said it, he blushed so hard he had to look away. Now he’s low-key obsessed with hearing it. “You don’t have to keep calling me that… but don’t stop either.”

Gets emotional when he thinks about the future. You once caught him staring at the engagement ring on your finger, looking teary-eyed. When you asked what was wrong, he said, “I just can’t believe you’re actually mine.” (I would’ve smacked the shit out of him for that, I don’t do romance 🙄💪)

[ebodebo]

—thinking about jason todd being a smug bastard... MDNI

Wayne Manor was swarmed with people. 

Once again, your parents had insisted on attending one of Bruce's charity galas, dragging you along.

You couldn't help but feel like an outsider in this world of opulence and pretense.

It was fun to dress up with thousand-dollar dresses and jewels, but, Christ, the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfumes and the sound of clinking glasses, making it stuffy even in the corner of the room where you stood.

They were nothing more than a group of pretentious assholes parading around and gloating about their wealth.

The very sight of them filled you with a profound sense of disdain for the whole event, a feeling that seemed to grow with each passing moment. 

You just thanked God Bruce always provided good booze.

"Cute dress," a deep voice sounded next to you.

You know immediately who it is.

"Was gonna wear red, but I didn't want you to get all jealous, Jason," you jest, your tone oozing with sarcasm.

"Is that right?" He smirked, handing you a glass of champagne. 

"Yeah. So I settled for blue," you shrugged, grasping the champagne.

"I think red suits you better," he hummed, sipping the alcohol. 

"I bet you do, Toddy," you chirp, eyes leering over the glass as you sip.

"You think you're so funny," he mutters, referring to the silly nickname you call him to his dismay. 

"I think I'm pretty hilarious," you smile, clearly amused with yourself.

"I can tell," he jibbed, taking another swig of the alcohol, eye peering over the rim to lock with yours.

You open your mouth to speak but are interrupted by a refined, high-pitched tone dripping with an air of superiority calling out for Jason in the dimly lit, crowded room. 

"Jay," a blonde girl quipped, making no effort to greet you, only batting her lashes at him. "I wasn't expecting you to be here."

"Well, you know..." He trails off before mustering a fake smile. "Duty calls."

She lets out a horrendous giggle that has you laughing at the sheer absurdity before her eyes lock on you.

"And...you are?" Her tone is almost revolted, adding to the tension in the air. 

Just take the high road, you think to yourself. 

"I'm a friend," you plaster a ricus smile.

She purses her lips, her eyes betraying a mix of jealousy and curiosity as they dart between you and Jason.

You'll play nice tonight, sure. 

"Don't worry. I have a date of my own," you lightly smile, internally cringing, torn between maintaining your composure and the urge to flee.

"You do?" Jason asks with utter perplexity.

No.

"Yeah," you breathe out.

His eyes squint, you gulp.

"Well...where's the lucky guy?" Blondie poses, her arms crossing over her chest, her condescension palpable in her tone. 

Your eyes quickly scan the room before you hear a familiar voice walking behind you.

"There you are!" You beam, turning around, reaching for poor Dick's wrist, and pulling him next to you. 

"Dick?" She questions, her curiosity piqued.

"Dick?" Jason questions, his tone dripping with disgust.

"Not happy to see me?" Dick teases as you casually thread your arm through his.

You don't miss the way Jason's whole body tenses. 

"How...charming," Blondie quips hesitantly before she threads her arm through Jason's.

Jason doesn't miss how your whole body tenses, issuing a smug smirk at your bewilderment. 

Oh? He wanted to play dirty.

Well, two can play that game. 

"Isn't he just a charmer?" You chirp, your tone laced with unnoticed faulty admiration. "Dick's just so sweet. He just...swept me off my feet," you say, fighting back a cringe, but the sight of Blondie's scowl and Jason's stiff posture makes it all worth it. 

Dick shifts his eyes down to yours; you give him a quick wink, and he nods lightly, pulling you closer to his side.

He would do just about anything to get under Jason's skin. 

"She flatters me," Dick beams. "She's the real charmer."

You smile brightly, your eyes moving between Blondie's perplexed eyes and Jason's narrowed ones.

"Didn't think you two talked," Jason grumbled, his tone simultaneously skeptical and sour, his eyes never leaving Dick's face. 

"Yeah, I can't believe we haven't talked sooner." You smiled, your gaze shifting from Dick's bright eyes to Jason, noticing his knuckles turning white around his champagne glass. 

Got him.

"I can't believe I let you keep her to yourself, Jason. She's a great conversationalist," Dick chimes with a slight smirk at Jason's irritation.

Oh. Dick is having way too much fun. 

"I'm aware," Jason continently says, taking a sip of his alcohol. 

"Even better baker—what is it you made me the other day?" Dick questions, turning slightly to face you. 

Your eyes widen in surprise at his improvisation skills, your brain slightly scrambling before you find the words. 

Hell, if the whole superhero thing didn't work out, he could make a killing as an actor.

"Brownies," you spout after a moment.

"You made this idiot brownies?" Jasom suspires, clearly vexed. 

"I did," you smile, inwardly enjoying his apparent displeasure. 

Jason moves to speak but is quickly interrupted by Blondie.

"I'll have to have some shortbread cookies made for you, Jason," she says, smugness oozing as she pulls him closer to her side. 

Right like he would ever eat—

"I love shortbread," Jason says with a wide grin.

"You hate shortbread. You've always hated shortbread," you sputter out without much forethought. 

"Maybe I like them now," Jason shrugs, a sly smirk growing.

Your eyes narrow slightly before they widen a little in remembrance. "Oh, Dick," you tug on his arm to catch his attention. "I almost forgot you left your jacket at my apartment the other day," you prompt.

"Why was he at your apartment?" Jason instantly says, eyes staring daggers into Dick's.

"Just hanging out," Dick answers plainly, his lips quipping only slightly.

"Well, you two sure seem...close," Bondie quips, sipping champagne. 

"Yeah," Jason mutters through gritted teeth. "They do."

As you sip, your eyes leer over Jason's face over your glass of champagne.

His jaw is slightly clenched, and his eyes are narrowed.

Jason Todd, jealous?

What a sight.

"Speaking of apartments," Blondie breaks the silence, turning her head towards Jason. "Daddy just bought me a new one in SoHo. You should stop by," she says before she follows with a wink.

"Oh?" Jason hums lowly, clearly still a little irritated.

You let out a low scoff. "SoHo's kind of a detour, no?"

"It's not too far from here," Blondie says, somewhat defensively. "Plus, I wouldn't mind a long car ride with you," she brings her manicured finger up to run seductively across the pocket of Jason's tailored suit.

You tasted a slight coppery taste, only then realizing you had bit down so hard on your cheek you had drawn blood.

"If you two wanted to head out now, we wouldn't blame you," Dick remarks.

You whip your head around to face his, mouth agape in surprise.

"Would give us a chance to leave, too," Dick finishes, sending a wink your way.

"Together?" Jason poses, tilting his head to the side. 

"Of course," Dick says cooly. 

As you look back at Jason, a tiny flicker of amusement glints in your eyes. 

You can see the gears in his brain turning.

"That's a great idea, Dick," Blondie chimes. "Let's get a head start."

You breathed a shallow breath before swallowing hard, looking Jason straight in the eye.

"Jason," you murmur, voice almost pleading.

"Yeah," he simply says, barreling his way over to you and grabbing your forearm.

"Where are you two going?" Dick asks, a shit-eating grin growing on his face.

"Move, Dick," you say with much more venom than intended.

"Move it, Grayson," Jason spits simultaneously, pushing past his brother.

His arm is tight around your forearm, guiding you out of the room. 

Dick throws his arms up in defeat. "What the hell did I do?"

"Where are they going?" Blondie asks, noticeably irked. 

Dick turns to look at her, pursing his lips slightly, and sighs. 

"Just—do you wanna dance?" He begrudgingly extends his hand.

Blondie perks up almost immediately, grasping his hand and pulling him toward the dance floor.

"She's so gonna owe me," Dick mutters, referring to you, as he is being dragged to the dance floor.

Meanwhile, Jason had led you down a hallway into a nearby broom closet and locked the door behind him. 

"You know, my parents don't think you're a good influence," you say casually as Jason's lips graze your neck. 

"Is that so?" He murmurs against your skin while your fingers thread through his slicked-back hair, holding him in place.

You toy with your bottom lip between your teeth, nodding along. 

The feeling of his hot mouth on such a sensitive area feels tantalizing. 

"They think you're a very bad boy, Jason," you tease before whining as his hand wanders to fondle your ass over your dress. 

You feel him laugh against your skin as his hand skims up your back to grasp for your zipper, pulling it down. 

"What do they think I'm gonna do?" He asks, slipping the front of your dress down as you reach for his tie, pulling him to your lips.

"Make me a bad girl," you murmur against his skin. 

His lips quip in amusement before he pulls back and quickly slips his tie off. "You already are a bad girl, Baby."

You let out a small laugh as you reach out to pull his suit jacket off, fingers fumbling with the buttons on his white collared shirt underneath, before bringing your hand to rest over your heart dramatically. "Me? No. Never!"

He lets out a low laugh that has your stomach in knots as he slips off the collared shirt. 

"Don't think I didn't notice that little game you were playing," he mutters, slipping your dress down to the pool around your ankles.

"You're a little shit starter."

"I was simply evening my odds," you simply say, stepping over your dress and using your foot to push it to the side as Jason unzips his slacks. 

You tilt your head. "She your little girlfriend or something?"

He tilts his head up, mouth opening in amusement. "Come on. You take me for a cheater?" He simply asks, slipping his slacks off. 

"I take you for a lot of things," you begin, pulling him closer by his wrist to press your lips to his. "But a cheater isn't one of them."

He tips his head in appreciation before hungrily engulfing your lips with his. 

"Don't tell me your parents think Dickie would be better for you?" He murmurs in between breaths. 

Your fingers entangled in his hair yet again, pulling him impossibly closer. "Actually, yeah," you suspire. "Or Roy."

He pulls back slightly. "Harper?" Disgust is apparent in his tone.

"Hell, he's worse than me."

You let out a breathy laugh before it contorts to a breathy moan as Jason's pointer and middle fingers skim over your clothed cunt. 

"Besides, neither of them could tame this greedy pussy," he rumbles, fingers delicately moving, pressing up against your clit. "No one could."

You let out a whimper as his fingers move his ease in and out of you, your underwear adding another layer of stimulation. 

"Well, no one....except me," he dips his head to hover over your ear, lips barely brushing the skin. "Yeah?"

You don't respond.

You were too focused on his fingers moving in you and his warm breath fanning your ear. 

"Say it, Baby," he coos as his pointer and middle fingers tweak your clit. 

"Say I'm the only one who can tame this greedy pussy."

You grip his shoulders tight, shamelessly rocking yourself against his fingers to gain more friction.

Your breathy moans shoot directly into his ear as he quickens his movements. 

"Say it," he commands, low and gravelly. "Or I won't make you come."

"Okay—shit," you stutter, trying so hard to get the words out in between pants. "You're the only—one," you begin through gritted teeth. "Who can, can—tame this," his movements pick up at your cooperation. "Greedy pussy," you whine out, grinding your body down on his fingers. 

"What a good girl you are," he praises before, to your dismay, he pulls his fingers out entirely. Your eyes widen in anger, mouth contorting to reprimand him before he moves to slip his slacks and boxers off entirely, revealing his painfully hard erection.

"I'm gonna make you come, Baby. Don't worry," he assures, voice breathy. "But you're gonna come around me."

You release a shallow breath at his words.

Sure, your orgasm had dissipated when he pulled his fingers out, but, fuck, was it back now. 

He leans his head down to press a deep kiss to your lips before his hands move to grip the back of your thighs, easing you up and pushing you against a side wall. 

Your legs instinctually wrap around his waist as his fingers slip into your panties, pulling them to the side to make room for his cock. 

His eyes flick to yours, raising slightly—you sure?

You give him a quick nod before he slips himself into your slit, which was already so slick—ready for him. 

His head goes back at the contact, gripping your hips tighter to keep you in place.

You rock your hips, muttering a curse as he moves against your aching clit. 

"Was he really your date?" Jason props unexpectantly, moving his hands down to grip your ass as he plows into you much deeper. 

"Wha—Dick?" You exasperate, unsure of why his brother was now a topic. 

"Well, yeah," he breathes. "Unless you have some—some other date I don't know about," he pants through labored breaths. 

"I—why are we talking about this when you're inside me?" Your voice is already hoarse as you scramble to grip his neck tighter.

"Fuck. I like that," he groans before returning to the topic. "Just—tell me. Please," he pleads.

"No, Jason." You're surprised you found enough breath to speak. "I don't even talk to him like that," you say honestly.

A slight grin grows on his lips at the admission as his pace quickens.

"And Blondie?" You spit out.

"Blondie?" A cheeky smirk grows on his lips at the nickname before his face turns serious. "Hardly know her."

You give him a slight nod, clearly satisfied with his answer.

He leans his head down to lay in the crook of your neck, groaning and curling into your skin as he drills into you.

"Shit," you curse, starting to feel the build-up of tension in your lower stomach.

"I know, Baby. I know," He croaks into your neck. "Me too."

It only takes him a couple more thrusts for him to groan and spew curses, and you whine and moan as you both simultaneously come. 

After you both recuperate, he eases himself out of you, hissing, as he places you down gently, even helping you slip your dress back up and zipping it up, pressing a tender kiss to your shoulder blade in the process.

He slips his boxers and slacks back on as you grab his collared shirt and slip it on him, delicately clasping each button. 

You snicker when you ease the zipper to his slacks up as he groans at your touch. 

"You are a bad girl," he jests, slipping his jacket and tie back on.

You let out a breathy laugh as his hands find your waist, pulling you toward him. He presses a sweet kiss to your temple. 

"Also," he begins his voice a low murmur against your skin. "I hate shortbread."  

You smile and rise onto your tiptoes, hovering near his ear. "I know," you whisper before pulling back, your eyes locked onto his.  

"I've always known."

a/n: lmaoo poor dick

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[kenwio]

Joker's kid! reader x batfamily

• -------------------- ♤ ♡ ◇♧ --------------------•

Author's note: I've been reading a lot of batfam x reader, and today I got this idea in my mind. I don't know if someone wrote something similar, and I apologize if so.

Warnings: English is not my first language, and it may contain grammar mistakes.

All in all, it's just a quick sketch I wanted to share with the world. I hope you will enjoy reading it. And I may write something more on this.

• -------------------- ♤ ♡ ◇♧ --------------------•

Joker's kid! reader, who hates his father, because he never cared, he sees you as his pawn, way to lure Batman in

Joker's kid! reader, who, without any connection to the real world, understands, that the way Jokers acts is just not right

Joker's kid! reader, who barely has any sanity and has so many mental issues, that they don't even know how to untangle their emotions or what they feel

Joker's kid! reader, who hopes that one day, Batman would put their dad into the prison for good. But this hope is crushed every time more with every Joker's escape from prison

Joker's kid! reader, who hoped that his mother would take them with her, but when she never did, was too busy with building her new life. After that, they started to think that they were too much of the burden

Joker's kid! reader, who has to hide in the corners of the crime alley, because they have nowhere to go until Joker breaks out and find them again. They are so scared, hungry, cold, but they know there is practically nothing they can do

Joker's kid! reader, who is afraid of Batman. They themselves saw how many times their father. Yet, they can't help but feel something light bubbling in their chest as they look at him.

Joker's kid! reader, Who is weirded out by how Robin, Red Robin, Red Hood and Nightwing act around batman, but they found themselves fascinated by it

Joker's kid! reader, who saw and decided to follow Batman out of desperation. They just wanted to this all end, and at least, Batman could do that, they saw her

Joker's kid! reader, who was scared by how long Batman was silent, how he stared at them. How he crouched down to their level. It felt like he was looking in their soul. Of course he knows who their are, he just never expected them to come to him. They may never know, but he was so relived to see that the this kid was not following their father.

Joker's kid! reader, who was shocked by how gentle Batman's voice sounded, how gently he put his hand on the shoulder, how he led them to his batmobile, how he gently buckled up their belt, how he put blanket on them (why would Batman have a spare blanket in the batmobile?).

Joker's kid! reader, who had to spend so much time in the medbay, not only because they were malnourished, but because they had so much health issues.

Joker's kid! reader, who is visited by Batman on many occasions, and were shocked by his care. Why he was so caring? Gentle? Was it a part of some elaborate scheme?

Joker's kid! reader, who had to learn identity of Batman and batfamily, because they would be moved to the manor. At one hand, it was a good change, but they were so scared.

Joker's kid! reader, who recives unpleasant glances from all the family: Dick looks at them like they are sick animal, Jason looks like their are a ticking bomb, Tim like they are remnants of his nightmares, Damian like they are disgusting criminal.

Joker's kid! reader, who think they all will hate them more because they keep breaking things (they just don't know how to use them). Alfred looks at them with such an intense gaze, that they couldn't help but shiver.

Joker's kid! reader, who looks at interactions between Bruce and wounders if this is how familiar is? Is it supposed to be warm like this? Is that care? Is that what happiness is?

Joker's kid! reader, who thinks that they are so out of place. They do not deserve this, not after what their father has done.

Joker's kid! reader, who just want to have be a part of family too

• -------------------- ♤ ♡ ◇♧ --------------------•

Thank you so much for reading! Please, feel free to share your opinions. I hope you have a good day!

[arkhamsbrat]

jason todd will never admit to anyone that he’s a softie. never. not to his friends, not to his family- but it’s evident when he’s around you.

he’s proud enough to not care that his family sees him lay his head in your lap, eyes fluttering shut as your fingers comb through his hair.

proud enough to not hide just how much he loves you in public, arms wrapped around you while you stare at the case of treats in front of you at the bakery.

he is one of those men who can’t keep his hands off of you. you ground him, keep him calm when everything just gets too loud.

why would he care if Cass sees him blush when you kiss his cheek before he left to hang out? or how big his pupils get when you’re in the kitchen, baking with Alfred?

he’s never going to say it out loud, but who the hell is he to deny how much he loves his partner?

[koilikesthefishy]

Oh my goodness the Tim's part was sooooooo cute!!!! Sending a lot of kisses for you darlin 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

attractive things they do while you're dating

pairing: batboys (plus clark lol) & reader ❀ׄ ꥈ

𓍢ִ໋☕ cassidy's note: for funsies. not edited. i love reading variations of these. i haven't written since 2020. if you can like this, reblog too.

bruce 🦇ᡣ𐭩˚.

navigating paparazzi: the careful way he guides you to block the flaring flashes from cameras with his broad shoulders.

bruce wraps his fingers to pull on your waist, tugging you further behind him, ensuring no shots of you are taken on what was meant to be a private night out.

despite the urgency of the situation--his face still stays controlled and imperturbable, but his grip is firm to reassure you, as he leans down and mumbles in your ear, "just a bit farther, the car's close," before his voice cuts through the cries and shutters lowly: "we're done here."

listens intently, and remembers every single detail about you, despite whether you think it's significant or not for him to know.

bruce stores your favorite shampoo and conditioner in his bathroom when you stay the night over.

and when you're sitting on the edge of his sink, removing his makeup from under his eyes, you notice it sitting amongst his own body-wash and pine scented soap.

but when you ask him about it, he simply shrugs and waves it off.

dick 🏙ɞ♥️*

teaches you self defense: his hands gently curl over yours to demonstrate how they should look before you throw a punch.

his touch is light, "keep your thumb on the outside", dick's finger taps the inside of your palm, "if you keep it inside, you'll break it--not fun."

he whistles when you hit him solidly in the side with a wide grin, despite the force of your blow, "better."

insists on helping you put on all your jewellery and shoes.

he turns you around, and pulls your hair to one side of your neck, before fiddling with the clasp. he's clumsy at first, but eventually gets the hang of it the more he does it. his hands linger on the slope of your neck for a moment longer than necessary.

later, as you reach for your shoes, he beats you to it, kneeling in front of you. dick's motions are all exaggerated as he does it.

your hand cards through his hair when he's looking up through his lashes after he's fastened the straps, and kissing the inside of your calf slowly.

jason ❤️‍🩹⋆｡

reads on public transportation: jason pulls out a beat up paperback he picked up from a secondhand bookstore from his back pocket. it has dog eared pages and a weathered spine.

there's a baby crying on the train, but he doesn't seem to notice as he flicks a ringed finger to the page he last read.

he pulls a pencil from his jacket pocket, and traces a line in a passage--a part he thinks you'd like. when he leans forward, his shirt rides up a bit so a strip of his skin is visible to you.

doesn't wipe your lipgloss from his cheek.

the shimmer from it stains his cheek after you pressed a kiss to it. you go to wipe it with a laugh, reaching with your thumb, and jason catches it mid-air. "you've got glitter on your face jay, people are gonna-"

"next time, wear red."

tim 🪽❥˚

gnaws at his lip as he concentrates.

the hum of the keys click in the batcave and papers rustle. tim's focus is sharp as he attempts piecing together his newest case, and his teeth catch in his bottom lip. an unconscious habit.

you can't help but tease him about it, "that's a terrible habit to have, you know that?" you lean against his desk."it helps me think."

sure enough, he does it again. "you're gonna chew your lip off your face one day." his lips curve upwards at your observation, but your gaze was now intense as you observed his lip in his teeth, and before you can state another snarky remark, he shoots you a knowing look before pulling your belt loops, and kissing you.

wears your hair tie on his wrist. it was never really ever a big deal. one day you handed it to him while getting ready for bed one night as you pulled out your ponytail and he snapped it onto his wrist without much thought. now, it's routine. it doesn't matter where he is exactly, if tim's at a gala or in a meeting or out in gotham on patrol, the hair tie is around his wrist.

you heard him cursing from the other room when he misplaced it once.

clark 🌟.*☆

saves you a seat, always: whether it's evenings in or out, clark always makes you feel like you're the most important person there.

it's not something that's said but understood, as he pulls the chair next to him, letting it be out long enough for you to get comfortable, before gently scooting it inwards.

when you eat, and when he thinks you're not looking--clark will adjust your plate, and glace over at your water glass to make sure it is filled. and if you want extra bread, don't even worry because he kept an extra piece on his plate for you.

pushing his glasses up. there's something kinda charming about the way he does it that you wish you could explain it better. it's absentminded, he does it a lot!

when he's looking over articles or reading or just talking to you. in the elevator, he'll lean forward to look over the numbered floors, and they won't stay in place, sliding down the bridge of his nose. you don't say anything, but smile slightly, and he'll return it goofily and with more teeth, before he asks, "what?"

tags: @retvenkos

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄᴀʟʟᴇᴅ ɪᴛ...ᴘᴜᴘᴘʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ♥︎

ᴊᴏɴ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

platonic, ig? Jon is 10 while you're 18+ in this LMAO in which Jon has a crush on you but you, despite being a 18+ year old ahh vigilante is oblivious to all of it. Not a yandere content, jst chill rn

ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ!

The Kent farm always felt like a second home to you. The golden fields stretched endlessly, kissed by the late afternoon sun, and the gentle hum of the wind was a melody you had grown fond of over the years. It wasn’t uncommon for you to find yourself here, sitting on the porch with Lois and Clark, sharing laughter and stories about the League, or helping Jon with his homework at the kitchen table.

Jon had always been a sweet boy—bright, cheerful, and endlessly curious. You had known him since he was a wobbly infant, drooling on your shoulder as you cradled him. You remembered the way he giggled when you’d tickle his tiny toes or sing lullabies softly enough to lull him to sleep. Those memories made your heart swell with affection for him, even now that he was ten years old and growing faster than the crops in the fields.

But lately, something about Jon had changed.

“Y/N, are you staying for dinner?” Jon’s voice piped up from the living room, where he sat cross-legged on the carpet, pretending to read a book. His eyes, however, were fixed on you like you were the most fascinating story in the world.

You glanced up from the kitchen counter, where you were helping Lois chop vegetables for the evening meal. “If it’s okay with your mom and dad, sure. I don’t want to impose.”

Jon’s face lit up like Christmas morning. “You’re not imposing! You can stay as long as you want!”

Lois, standing beside you with a knowing smirk, muttered under her breath, “He’d probably ask you to move in if he thought you’d say yes.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “He’s just being polite, Lois. He’s such a thoughtful kid.”

Lois froze mid-chop, her knife hovering above the cutting board. She turned to look at you, arching a brow. “Thoughtful, huh? Y/N, sweetheart, I love you, but you’re dense”

You frowned, tilting your head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Jon likes you,” she said bluntly, the words hanging in the air like the stillness before a storm.

You blinked, momentarily taken aback. Then you laughed, the sound light and airy, brushing away the tension Lois was trying to create. “Of course, he does. I’ve known him his whole life. We’re close.”

Lois groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “No, Y/N. He likes you. As in, he has a crush on you.”

Your laughter faltered, replaced by a puzzled expression. “Lois, come on. He’s just a little boy. He’s sweet and affectionate—that’s all it is. Kids are like that.”

Lois stared at you, her lips pressing into a thin line as she fought the urge to bang her head against the counter. “Right. Sure. Just a sweet little boy. Nothing else.” She shook her head and muttered something about needing a Pulitzer for dealing with this level of obliviousness.

Meanwhile, Jon, who had overheard the entire exchange from his spot in the living room, felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment. He buried his face in his book, hoping the ground would swallow him whole.

The truth was, Jon’s crush on you wasn’t just a passing whim. To him, you were the most incredible person in the world. You were strong, kind, and effortlessly cool. He’d seen you fight alongside his dad and the Justice League, holding your own with a grace that made his young heart race. But it wasn’t just your power that captivated him—it was the way you smiled, the way your laughter filled the room, and the way you always treated him like he mattered.

When you were around, Jon felt like the most important person in the world. And he wanted to be worthy of you.

Clark, ever perceptive, tried to broach the subject later that evening while you sipped tea on the porch swing. The sunset painted the sky in hues of gold and crimson, and the air was thick with the scent of freshly tilled earth.

“You know, Jon talks about you a lot,” Clark began, leaning against the porch railing with an easy smile.

You looked up from your mug, your lips curving into a soft smile. “Does he? That’s sweet. He’s such a bright kid—always curious about everything.”

Clark nodded, his smile faltering slightly. “He looks up to you, you know. You’re a big part of his life.”

Your heart swelled with warmth at the thought. “I love that kid, Clark. He’s like a little brother to me.”

Clark hesitated, his brow furrowing as he searched for the right words. “Right, but maybe he sees you as...more than that.”

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “Clark, he’s ten. Kids get attached to people they admire—it’s normal. He’s just a kind-hearted little boy.”

Before Clark could say more, Lois stepped onto the porch, her arms crossed and her eyes filled with exasperation. “For the love of God, Clark, give it up. She’s as clueless as you were when we started dating.”

Clark straightened, looking mildly offended. “I wasn’t that clueless.”

Lois snorted. “You didn’t even realize I was flirting with you until I spelled it out.”

As they bickered, you sipped your tea, completely oblivious to Jon peeking through the screen door, his heart sinking with every passing second.

Jon decided that if words weren’t enough to make you notice, he’d have to try harder. Maybe he’d write you a poem, something that captured how he felt when you smiled at him. Or he could bake you a cake, like the ones he saw on TV shows, with “You’re amazing” written in frosting.

But for now, all he could do was watch you, his young heart beating wildly every time you glanced his way. To Jon, you were a constellation in human form, shining brighter than any star in the sky. You were the one who made the world feel magical, who turned ordinary moments into memories he wanted to keep forever.

When you smiled at him later that evening, ruffling his hair affectionately, Jon felt like he could fly without his powers.

“You’re going to grow up to be such an amazing man, Jon,” you said warmly. “The world’s lucky to have you.”

Jon swallowed hard, his cheeks turning pink. “Thanks,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

Lois, watching from the kitchen, slapped a hand over her face. “This is painful to watch,” she muttered to Clark.

“Give it time,” Clark said, though even he looked concerned about how long it might take for you to catch on.

And so, the cycle continued. Jon adored you, wearing his heart on his sleeve, while you remained blissfully unaware. To you, he was just a sweet kid you’d known forever. To him, you were everything.

But Jon was nothing if not determined. One day, he promised himself, he’d make you see. For now, though, he was content to sit by your side, basking in your presence, while his dreams of the future danced in his young mind like fireflies in the twilight.

Jon n you fr:

[thebigbadbatswife]

Morning Glory

Pairing - Bruce Wayne x F!Reader

Summary - It’s the morning after you and Bruce confessed your love for one another and there’s only one thing on his mind.

Warnings - 18+ ONLY. Established Relationship, Age Gap, Older Man/Younger Woman, Explicit Sexual Content, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Multiple Orgasms, Morning Sex, Fluff, Bruce's POV

A/N - Part of the same 'verse as Sippin' on Sunshine but both fics are complete standalones from each other so you don't have to read that one first.

Word Count - 2.7k

When Bruce wakes up, he finds you already wide awake. You’re sitting up in bed, scrolling through your phone like he might read the newspaper at the kitchen table. He lays there for a moment, simply admiring your sleepy, dishevelled state. You’ll resist him if he ever says it outloud, insisting that you don’t because how can you when your hair is a mess and you have no makeup on, but he thinks you look absolutely radiant. 

“We made the front page again,” you tell him. Not even bothering to look up from the screen in front of you.

He sighs as he rolls onto his back and stretches, which is followed by a series of loud cracks and pops from his back and joints. It’s just another reminder of his age and all of the damage he’s done to his body over the years. As he shifts in the bed to sit up, he becomes aware of how tight his pyjama pants feel.

“What did we do this time?” he asks, settling his back against the headboard. You hand him your phone so that he can see the article. It’s a picture of the two of you from late last night. You’re straddling his lap in the car and kissing him. It’s right after you told him that you loved him for the first time. His brow furrows. Even in the middle of the night, where the streets are devoid of life, neither of you can get any privacy outside of him locking you away in a bedroom.

The headline reads: “Way more than a PR stunt.” As soon as he sees the writer, he relaxes a little. Lois Lane. Though he knows he can trust her, he still skims through the article to see what she’s written. The entire article is written in defence of your relationship and even goes as far to debunk some of the things other articles have said. He’s going to have to send her a gift basket. A big one at that.

“At least it’s the Daily Planet and not the Gazette,” he says. 

“Oh no, they posted an article as well,” you reply. 

Bruce huffs. “Let me guess, Vicki?” 

“No, it was Ryder this time.”

He huffs again. “Of course it was,” he mutters. He’s really starting to get sick and tired of all of them. 

He sets your phone down onto the nightstand, switching it to silent and placing it screen down. Before you can ask him what he’s doing, in one fluid movement, he’s dragging you down the bed and pinning you to it, fingers entwinning with yours as he holds your hands above your head. 

“I’ll call my lawyers later. For now though, I have something else on my mind.”

Bruce rolls his hips, letting you feel his morning wood press up against you. You gasp as your hips buck, creating friction that has his breath stuttering. Apparently he’s not the only one who’s woken up with a problem that needs addressing.

“Last night you were fretting about your age, yet here you are. Ready to ravage me and you’ve barely been awake five minutes,” you laugh softly.

Bruce hums as he nuzzles his face against you, just under your jaw before starting to press soft kisses to your neck. “How can I resist when I’m waking up to such a beautiful woman?” 

He pulls away and you look at him like you don’t quite believe him. Before you can try and argue against him, he’s pressing his lips against yours. Any protest of his compliment dies on your tongue as you moan into the kiss. As you two kiss, you hook one of your legs over his hip and pull him more flush against you, grinding your groin against his.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groans, his cock twitching in his pyjama pants.

“I’m hoping we will,” you reply, breathlessly.

“Oh, we’re not leaving this room today.”

He untwines his fingers from yours so that he can pull your shirt off. In reality it’s actually one of his shirts, but you love to steal them from him and he’s not complaining. You look damn good in his clothes, though you look even better with nothing, but some expensive jewellery on. He chucks it to the side, not caring where it falls, and his head ducks down and his mouth is already closing around one of your nipples. He swirls his tongue around the hardened bud before gently tugging on it with his teeth. The action has you gasping as your fingers run through his hair, gently scratching his scalp. He groans again, enjoying the feeling of your nails.

He litters your chest with lovebites before repeating his actions with your other breast. You won’t be wearing anything super revealing for a while. Or maybe you still will. Show off to the world who you belong to. If he ever lets you out of this bed ever again.

Bruce loves the way that you respond to him. Back arching into his touch, fingers buried in his hair, tugging ever so slightly as the softest gasps and moans leave you. Those sweet noises of yours will only grow with his head buried between your legs. That thought has him releasing your nipple and trailing kisses down your body. 

When he reaches you underwear, he smiles. The growing, dark, wet patch on the crotch evidence of how aroused you are. He inhales your scent deeply before licking a bold stripe against your clothed cunt. The taste of you soaked into the fabric has his cock throbbing with the need to be buried deep inside of you. 

Ignoring your protests, he rips your underwear off of you and discards the ruined material somewhere off to the side. You get over the ruined garment pretty quickly, spreading your legs wider and showing off your glistening pussy. Bruce swallows thickly, his adam’s apple bobbing. He settles between your legs, hands coming up to hold your hips, getting ready to dive in and devour you. He’ll have you screaming his name in no time.

A knock at the door stops him right before his mouth comes into contact with you. Irritation flares through him and glares over his shoulder, at the door. At least, whoever it is, has the decency to knock and wait.

“What is it?” he calls, his voice sharp as he refuses to hide his irritation at being interrupted.

“Mr Kent is here. He says it’s important,” Alfred’s voice calls through the door. “And I’m afraid he isn’t going to take no for an answer.”

Bruce sighs. He’s been ignoring every text and call from him all weekend so he could be with– he had promised no interruptions– so he probably should have expected this. Still, if it’s not his public persona ruining things, it’s his mask. Sitting up, you cup his face and bring him close to you, your lips just barely brushing against his own.

“Ten minutes?” you ask.

It’s not the morning, or day, he imagined the two of you having, but it’s better than leaving you both wound up all day. He’s still going to be making it up to you later though and he already has plenty of ideas on how.

“I’ll be down in fifteen,” he calls back.

“Of course, sir. I’ll let him know.”

As Alfred’s steps retreat and eventually fade into nothing, Bruce pins you to the bed again. As he kisses you, you’re shifting beneath him. Your legs coming up to either side of his hips and your toes hooking into the waistband of his pyjamas so that you can shove them down. Finally freeing his cock from its clothed prison. He helps you get rid of them the rest of the way and then he’s spreading your legs further. He grips the base of his cock and rubs the head through your folds, coating himself in your slick. Even going as far as to tease your clit which has you sharply inhaling. Then he’s burying himself inside of you, right down to the hilt in a single thrust. The moan that leaves you is loud. Loud enough that Bruce is sure that it could be heard from well beyond the confines of the bedroom, even without super hearing.

It takes everything within him not to immediately start moving. His mind focused on giving you the time you need to adjust to his size. No matter how many times you take him, he’s still a lot for you and the last thing he wants to do is hurt you. You have other ideas though. You’re too impatient to wait for him this morning so you roll your hips, doing your best to fuck yourself on his cock. It makes holding himself back almost impossible.

“Brucie, please move,” you whine softly. Slowly getting frustrated with his lack of movement.

You always ask him so sweetly. Even without a time limit, how could he ever refuse you? The pace he sets to start with is a slow one. Dragging his cock along the inside of your sensitive walls, relishing in the way they flutter around him as a now quiet moan leaves your parted lips. That moan grows a little louder when he pushes back in. 

His pace grows a little bit each time that he pushes back in. Low groans leaving him, matching your moans. Your hot, wet cunt feels amazing wrapped around him, turning his brain to mush. Not enough though that he’s completely lost himself in the feeling of you. Well, not yet anyway. Give it some time and he’s sure he will.

Soon enough the sounds of skin against skin fill the room, alongside the squelching of your pussy every time he roughly thrusts back inside, growing louder and louder. You mewl beneath him, your cunt squeezing him tighter than before, drawing deep, throaty groans from him, desperately trying to stop him from leaving your warmth. With the way that you’re gripping him like a vice, he knows that he’s not going to last much longer.

“Fuck,” Bruce growls. He pulls away so he can hike your legs up onto his shoulders. The new angle has your eyes rolling into the back of your head as his cock reaches impossible deeper inside of you; turning you into a babbling mess.

He knows that you’re getting close to coming undone. After all, he knows your body like the back of his hand and he can see, and feel, all the telltale signs. The stuttering of your breathing, the tensing of your muscles, the way that your pussy squeezes him more and more, making it harder for him to pull out each time. All you need now is a little push over the edge that you’re teetering on. His thumb presses against your puffy clit, doing his best to rub it in time with his thrusts.

His name leaves you in a sob as your body clamps down on him, your cunt gushing around his cock as your orgasm soaks the sheets beneath you. The sight awakens something inside of him. Something almost primal. His pace slows only for a moment as his eyes become glued to your pussy, taking in the sight of your how your lower lips now glisten with your squirt. 

That moment ends as quickly as it started. As soon as his eyes break away from your pussy and come up to see the half lidded, fucked out expression on your face, he snaps out of his trance. His pace comes back tenfold, starting to fuck you harder and deeper than you would have thought possible. Not even giving you a chance to recover from your first orgasm as he has you headed straight toward the next one.

You’re a ball of oversensitivity, your back arching off of the bed and tears spilling from your eyes as you mewl his name. Whilst Bruce knows that he is completely and utterly pussydrunk. He’s known it for a while, how deep he is under your spell. His pace has completely lost whatever rhythm it once had. Uncoordinated and sloppy as he ruts into you, his cock growing harder and his balls getting tighter, ready to fill you to the brim.

He has half a mind to stay right here. Ignore Clark and spend the day doing what he had intended to begin with. Which involves him staying buried inside of you, keeping you stuffed with his cock and cum. If the previous weekend is anything to go by, it’s certainly something that you would not only enjoy, but deep down crave. Honestly, he craves it as well. 

His thumb stays pressed against your clit as he moves forward, almost folding you in half, so that he can kiss you. The kiss is supposed to be passionate, but ends up being sloppy and messy. It’s all tongue and teeth, but both of you are too far gone to actually care.

Your orgasm takes you both by surprise. Your moans are swallowed by Bruce as the feeling of your cunt clenching around his cock, doing it’s best to milk him of every drop he has to offer, sends him over the edge with you. His own moan is deep and guttural as he keeps thrusting, pushing his cum deeper inside of you, like he’s trying to make sure it takes. 

Just as it starts to become painful for him, Bruce slumps against you, letting your legs fall off of his shoulders and back down by his side; his head coming to rest against your chest. The only sound now in the bedroom is yours and Bruce’s heavy breathing as you both come down from your highs.

You run your fingers through his hair as he presses soft kisses down the valley of your breasts and underneath them. He sighs softly, enjoying the feeling of your nails gently scratching his scalp.

Slowly, and gently, he pulls out of you and rolls off of your body, to lay down by your side. Bruce’s fingers entwin with your own once more and he brings your hand up to his mouth so that he can press a kiss to the back of it. 

His reluctance to leave has you giggling. The sound brings a smile to his face. He is being rather childish in the way that he’s dragging this out. Acting like he might never see you again once he leaves this room. Which, honestly, could be true depending on what Clark has come here to discuss. He shoves the thought away, deciding he doesn’t want to think about that right now.

“I’ll still be here when you get back,” you tell him. You free your hand from his grasp so that you can roll onto your front. Draping a leg over his body, you lean up to kiss him. It’s gentle and sweet, just like you are. When you pull away, he chases after your lips, which has you giggling again.

“Go and save the world and when you come back–” you move forward more and press your lips to his ear– “I’ll do whatever you want.” 

Bruce chuckles as his hand comes down to playfully swat you ass. You gasp and playfully hit his chest. It only encourages him as he gives your ass a squeeze as he rubs his nose against your own.

“You should be careful making such promises, princess,” he says, his voice low. “It might come back to bite you.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” you reply cheekily. 

Bruce hums as he makes a move to kiss you again. In that exact moment there is a series of knocks at the bedroom door. These ones are louder and rougher. If they were a little bit harder they might forcibly remove the door from its hinges. He grumbles as you pull away and move off of him.

“You should probably go before your friend breaks the door down.”

“If he does that he can pay for it,” Bruce mutters, glaring at the door. He turns his attention back to you. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

He’s already running through the different ways that he can do that in his head. At the top of the list is another getaway, but perhaps for a week instead of just a weekend. He just needs to find someone to look after the city while he’s gone.

[punkbomb]

JULS POSTED, NOBODY MOVE

everyone adores you (at least i do!) 𓏵 gn! reader

ꪆ୧ batboys + how they love you

note 🖋️ ⠀.. fluff, sfw, implied romantic relationship, more written under the cut!

bruce wayne has always condemned emotions in his line of work as a weakness and a danger to a loved one. having feelings for someone is something, acting upon them is another. although, he was so weak when it came to you. his adopted children were well aware of the fact; seeing their father smitten was similar to seeing pigs fly— an impossible phenomenon.

the man loves with quiet intensity, possessing a steady presence that speaks louder than words. when he lets you in, it is an act of trust that he doesn't take lightly. he shows his love through protection— ensuring your safety, comfort, and never lacking anything.

but, his love isn't always easy. he struggles with vulnerability, given the circumstances of his life as a vigilante; often retreating into his own world when the weight of responsibilities becomes too much. yet, in the quietest moments, when his hand brushes against yours on a cold night, when he makes your coffee the way you exactly like it, or when he presses a kiss to your forehead as you sleep, you see the depths of his affection.

dick grayson loves with his entire heart. almost to a fault. the kind of lover who will remember everything about you— your coffee order, how you like your blankets folded, or your preferred way to be complimented. his love is expressed is actions and words, whether it’s a random invite to watch your favorite movie in the theaters or a gift full of his reassurance, which he never seems to run out of.

although everything may look perfect in the naked eye, his love feels bittersweet. dick carried the weight of wanting to be everything for everyone, and you’ll often find him hiding his exhaustion behind a playful grin. the best thing you could do is hold him— remind him that it’s okay to rest, that he’s allowed to lean on you too. his love is vibrant and warm, a consistent reminder that even in the darkest moments, there is light.

jason todd’s love is the epitome of a quiet storm. it’s not that he doesn’t feel deeply— on the contrary, he feels so much it overwhelms him. his affection shows in subtle ways: the way his arm lingers around your waist a little longer, the books he leaves on your nightstand with little notes inside, and the protective way he walks on the outside of the sidewalk.

aside from his love being a quiet storm, fitting words for it also include the words: raw and unfiltered. he doesn’t sugarcoat his love; he gives it to you straight. sometimes, he needs reassurance that he’s enough because it’s your presence that grounds him. loving him means understanding his scars while showing he’s more than his pain.

tim drake loves like a puzzle— pieces coming together slowly but purposefully. he’s analytical in everything he does, including the ways to express his growing affection. his love language is often acts of service or gifts, such as fixing something you didn’t even realize was broken or programming a reminder for something you’d forget.

he can get lost in his own head, but he always finds his way back to you. late nights spent in his arms, both of you illuminated by the glow of his laptop, are his favorite moments. he loves how you don’t demand too much of him, like how you accept his quirks and remind him to eat and sleep. his love is thoughtful and enduring, a consistent hum in the background of your life.

damian wayne’s love is intense, almost daunting at first. he doesn’t express his feelings easily, and his affection comes off as sharp and awkward. but beneath the bravado and formality lies a boy who cares so deeply it scares him. damian shows love in ways that are uniquely him— introducing you to his pets, painting something inspired by you, or quoting poetry he’d never admit he memorized for you.

it takes time for damian to let his guard down, but once he does, his love is fiercely loyal and unapologetic. he values integrity and honesty, so he appreciates how you challenge him while still embracing his softer side. loving damian means standing by his side as he grows, knowing his love burns with the intensity of a star.

© JULSVU. all rights reserved. please don't plagiarize, translate, put in other websites, copy my work, or feed my works to AI. thanks!

[marshiewritesfics]

A Night Out On the Town with the Batboys

DICK GRAYSON-

- He would want to start the night out by going to a local carnival

- Dick loves going on the rides, enjoying the fair food, and playing the games

- You share some cotton candy with each other and he wins you a stuffed animal from one of the games

- He’s charming and playful as you move throughout the carnival and enjoy a fun time together

- Later that night, he takes you back to his house to hangout and play some video games together

JASON TODD-

- Jason would invite you to an edgier hangout spot in town

- He takes you to a live music festival playing rock music

- You both go all out and dress the part, enjoy the loud music, and spend all night together partying and having a great time together

- Jason brought you into town on his motorcycle and he takes you for a ride later that night, exploring the bright lights of the city at night

- He keeps things exciting and you steal a few kisses from him throughout the night as you explore the city

TIM DRAKE-

- Tim takes you to a nice comic book store downtown that has a wide selection of comics and cool collectibles

- You each pick up a few comic books to enjoy later on

- He also takes you to a cool bookstore that has a little coffee shop attached to it with a chill vibe where you get drinks and pastries

- You hangout and relax there for a bit enjoying each other’s company while you talk and read the comics you picked out together

- Tim impresses you with his knowledge and witty humor while you hangout making it a fun time together

[comically-callous]

JASON TODD ISN’T GOOD WITH WOMEN!!!! HE HAS ZERO GAME!!!! (and while we’re on the topic, he is NOT super dominant either, this dude probably cries during sex 💔💔💔)

[coralineyouareinterribledanger]

I cannot explain, nor fathom the emotion

this work of literature has made me feel.

Including, kicking my feet, giggling,

worrying, laughing, gasping, cheering

and so on and so forth

I absolutely LOVES reading this, I am genuinely so happy I came across it<3

GO ENJOY IT POOKIES🗣🗣🗣

➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking) CHAPTER LIST

✓ COMPLETED

← back to main masterlist

official playlist!

You find yourself suddenly thrown into a universe where the silly characters in the comics you read are real, living people. Now, you have to find a way back home, so try not to get distracted by all the characters you had a crush on growing up, or the fact that you know far too much about pretty much everybody. (And definitely don't think about how this means your life is probably a comic book in another universe.)

(jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne, reader is a spider-man variant, read it on ao3)

1. we're not in kansas anymore

2. spidey luck (good or bad? you'll never know) 

3. debut 

4. way down we go 

5. good old-fashioned lover boy

6. make out fake out

7. inhibition (or lack there of)

8. connections

9. warmth

10. never wound what you can't kill

11. down came the rain and washed the spider out

12. picture perfect

13. back to our regularly schedule programming

14. please please please (let me get what i want)

15. and the world kept spinning

16. long awaited

17. home

18. the talk(s)

19. intertwined, sewn together

EPILOGUE: saturn

[sweetchillipeppers]

Jason Todd x Reader - Teacher AU

Pairing: Jason Todd x Gender Neutral!Reader

A/N: Y’all what if I actually got back into writing fics? I didn’t know I could do that. But write what you want to see. And I want to see English teacher by day, Red Hood by night Jason Todd with History teacher reader so sue me. More importantly, I want to see Damian in reader’s classroom at lunchtime bitching about his brother. I already have part two, so that will be posted soon. (And y’all get to have a look at the Red Hood!)

Also I believe this is gender neutral if anyone sees gendered language let me know and I'll fix it.

Tags: Rivals to lovers, kind of mutual pining, Teacher AU Word Count: 3368

Pt 1 Pt 2

You were warned that teaching would be just like high school all over again. The same cliques and bullies and drama that plagued the halls when you were 15, to be repeated now that you’ve returned to the school as an adult. To think that fully grown human beings are still caught up in the same scandals, doomed to the same behaviour 10 years after they should have grown out of it. You never would have believed it until you saw it yourself. Until even you devolved to your teenage years, developing a deep hatred for a fellow colleague. Okay. Hatred was a strong word for the rivalry but the dislike you held for a certain English teacher was real. And right now, he was the reason you’ve had to delay a test for your students. The email you’d received less than 10 minutes before your class was due to start did nothing but add to the rage you felt.

“10th grade English stream A2 is running over. 7 kids still need to present their projects. They’ll be late for their next class. Sorry for the delay.” 

Attached was a list of students in the class who would be late. All unsurprisingly in your history class. Mr Jason Todd had no respect for you, no respect for your time and no respect for your subject.

As the two youngest teachers at the school, you were often paired together: volunteer work, lunch duty, after school workshops. It didn’t help that your two departments, history and english, also worked closely with one another. You hated that the kids adored him. You hated that the other teachers still adored him, especially after all his flakiness. You knew that he hadn’t appeared at over half the after school volunteer work you had to do, and that he likely had an active social or dating life that was the cause, something you missed since becoming a teacher. So maybe, the hatred was all just jealousy. NOT. As if you’d be so petty.

When you first met Jason, you liked him. Like really liked him. He was pretty and smart and you are oh so attracted to competence. You trapped him in literary discussions from the Brothers York to the Odyssey but he never minded. You threw a couple joint trip ideas around to go see a local Shakespeare play after Christmas or the early 19th century writers exhibition at the museum. He was also the rugby coach and his practice on the field coincided with your volleyball team’s in the hall so twice a week you tidied the equipment cupboard together. You were so certain the two of you would be fast friends. Maybe more. So when the librarian went on paternity leave in October and Jason needed help re-cataloguing the entire library onto the new system you volunteered. A chance to spend time with someone you liked and helping out the school: a win-win. What you hadn’t expected was that what should’ve been a couple hours at most after school for a week turned into a month-long endeavour for you. Only you. Jason would stay for at most 20 minutes before running away with some kind of excuse and vanishing for the rest of the night. By the third week, you’d started cataloguing during your lunch breaks to try speed up the process (and to avoid spending any time with him while your temper simmered under pleasantries). After that you distanced yourself. He clearly had no respect for your time and you by extension. No more literary discussions in the staff room. No more joint tidies in the equipment store and no more library cataloguing. Mr Jason Todd was the most unreliable colleague you had. The bane of your existence. And yet, everyone seems to forget this fact when he flashes a smile or starts talking about classic literature. But not you. No, you could see through his gorgeous face, past those good looks into the depths of his terrible personality. And unfortunately, the only person who agreed with you was a child.

“Todd irritates me far too often. I put in a request at the start of the year that I would not be in any of his classes.” Damian states matter of factly. The two of you were sat in your classroom eating lunch. The youngest Wayne opting to spend time surrounded by history displays instead of braving the lunch hall and eating alone. And, as the teacher, it was your responsibility to encourage him to make friends. After the two of you bitch about Jason of course. 

“I wish I could put in a request to stop seeing him in the staff room. But no, he wanders in with his fancy books and his fancy teas-”

“Those would be Pennyworth’s” He confirms.

“-Flashes a smile and expects me to be nice to him after how flakey he’s been. Can you believe it?”

Damian swallows a bite of his sandwich and nods solemnly. “I can.”

“He’s incredibly unreliable. I mean how do people give him any responsibility after this?” Your arms gesturing wildly.

“Perhaps this is weaponised incompetence. I always say to Father that he is too incompetent for his job.” Damian suggests, shaking his head. “But Father says that he is one of the most competent people he knows”

It’s not too hard to be competent in front of ‘Brucie’ Wayne. But you don’t tell Damian that.

“No, he's definitely competent enough. I know he’s incredibly intelligent and I sat in for one of his classes. He clearly just has zero time management skills.”

“And he lacks respect.”

“And he lacks respect!” You shout, then realise you should probably calm down and sheepishly rub the back of your neck. Although it seems that Damian hadn’t cared about your outburst.

“I am the blood son, he should at least be respectful to the rightful heir. But no, he and Grayson make a habit of tossing me about like a basketball.”

That sounds quite sweet to you, that Damian’s older brothers treat him so nicely and the disagreement must show on your face because Damian scoffs.

“Pennyworth tells me it’s ‘Sibling Bonding’. I do not wish to think of those two imbeciles as related to me.”

“The curse of being the youngest.” you offer in response, “Although it sounds like they want to be playful with you. That they want a good relationship.”

“I can’t believe you’re defending Todd right now.”

You huff at that, changing the subject. “Maybe you should make some other friends, that way you can spend less time with your brothers. Think of it as an escape plan.”

“Are you not my friend?” 

“Um well, yes, but I meant some kids your own age.”

“Ah. Father agrees. He says that Jon is not enough. That I need more than one friend. How many friends do you have? I will achieve the same.” Damian looks determined, which means you’re at least getting through to him. You, on the other hand, feel like a deer in headlights. Honestly you can count the number of friends you have from outside work on one hand. 

“I have lots of friends.” You brag. Damian does not look convinced. “How about you aim to make two more friends? Maybe you should join a club. Ms Song says you excel in her art classes. The art club meets on Tuesday lunchtimes and after school on a Wednesday.”

“I enjoy my lunches in the history room.”

“But this would work for both of us Damian. I start lunchtime duty next week on Tuesdays. I won’t be in my classroom.” A lie, of course, but you really want Damian to make some friends and be more social amongst the other students. You’re not sure who’s timetabled for Tuesday lunchtime duty but you’ll find a way to swap. And luckily, Damian doesn’t call your bluff.

“Fine. I shall join the art club. I suppose it is only fair that I do something uncomfortable as well.”

You have no idea what Damian is talking about but he’s joining the art club so that’s a win for you. He’s putting himself out there socially and that’s all you can hope for. The bell rings and Damian packs up his things, leaving you to get ready for your next class. 

By the end of the day you were still thinking about how much you hated Jason. It’s not like he was the only thing on your mind though. In all honesty the only thing you had learnt from the earlier half of your conversation with Damian is that you were acting like a 14 year old. Not to say neither of your grievances were invalid but you suppose you should maybe give Todd slightly more grace than you do currently. Especially if he already has one enemy in Damian. You think back to the incident this morning. Maybe it really was an accident. Sometimes projects and classes over run. You have to be flexible in teaching. You gather your materials together when the bell rings and your last class rushes out the door. 

“For those of you coming on the trip on Saturday, meet outside the school bright and early!” You call, “The coach leaves at 8.30!”

You sit back down and stretch your arms out as you log into your emails, sending one to the maths teacher asking to switch to her lunchtime duty on Tuesdays. She replies yes and you smile in success. Plan ‘help Damian make friends’ has finished stage one. Wonderful! Scanning the latest reminder from your principal, someone knocks at the door, drawing your attention away. You figure it might be Janice, one of the cleaners or Alejandro the receptionist. “Come in.” you say, and turn back to your emails.

“Where’s good to start setting up?” You would recognise that grating voice in a heartbeat. Jason Todd. You swivel so fast in your chair you almost fall out of it. 

“What are you doing here?” You try to sound as neutral and as unaffected by his very presence as possible. 

“Parents' evening. We’re sharing a classroom. The email went out three weeks ago and a reminder today?” You turn back to the monitor. The last unread email. Damn. You’d agreed to share a classroom when you were still on good terms. 

“I must’ve missed it. I’m ready to start setting up right now.” You smile through gritted teeth.

You were so wrong about giving grace. That man has done nothing but step on your toes all afternoon. That display should be changed, these books should be out, example essays from each subject should have no overlap. And the worst part is that he was right on most counts. But you don’t take lightly to being ordered around by a man who does nothing but infuriate you. In less than an hour the parents will be walking into your room and judging you and the school and you again and Jason still isn’t back. He better be in the toilet having a case of explosive diarrhoea or so help him god, the principal will have to scrape his remains off the teacher car park. It’s been 20 minutes. You suppose the classroom is prepped and ready for the parents so you could just wait anxiously by yourself. You suppose nothing was tethering him here when the displays were done as long as he made it back before the parents. You suppose he wouldn’t want to spend time with someone who had become so hostile and jagged towards him. Maybe he was talking with some of the other teachers, you reasoned. He hadn’t abandoned you again. Not after the promises about turning up and being here. And certainly not after the principal’s second reminder email that seemed more like a warning. Perhaps you should go see if any other teachers needed help last minute as well. To keep your mind busy and away from the failure Jason was setting you up for. You lock your classroom and walk towards the art room.

Jason was running late again. Dick had called in an SOS and he was closest. And to make up for it he figured it wouldn’t matter if he stopped to grab a coffee for you each as a peace offering. He did enjoy your company after all. He knew that your iciness these past few weeks had been well deserved. He didn’t mean to miss all the cataloguing but it was a particularly active week for Black Mask and Penguin and then the week after that he was recovering from a stab wound he’d gotten during a routine drug bust. Getting a second job had taken some getting used to. So he could hardly blame you for your hostility. He knew he deserved it. So in order to make amends, he grabbed you a drink from the cafe two blocks from the school before he joined you in your classroom, ready for parents evening. He signed back into the office before catching a glimpse at the time. Shit. You were going to be so angry if he was late again. So he sprinted like a madman, ignoring all his very new teacher instincts about running in corridors. As Jason rushed towards your classroom he didn't notice the art room door open and you step out, waving goodbye to Ms Song. 

The apology coffee ended up all over you. Seeping through your sweater and your shirt. Your nice, white shirt, ironed and pressed for parents' evening. You take a deep breath. 

“I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t mean to-” Jason starts.

“It's okay Jason, really.” You swallow and turn to keep walking to your class. You were trying not to lose it. Not to cry or yell, when parents could walk through the door at any moment. Jason trailed behind you. When you walk into your classroom he calls your name. 

“What?” You snap. You have run out of patience and out of grace for him. He takes off his knit jumper, passing it to you.

“It’ll help cover the stain.”

“It’ll be weird though won’t it?” You question, eyebrow raised. You knew exactly what the staff room would sound like on Monday if anyone saw you. 

“Is that worse than letting the principal see you talking to parents covered in coffee?”

You don’t reply. He was right, per usual. You take the jumper, unenthusiastically and pull it on. It smells like him. Not that it would mean anything to you of course, it’s just a smell. It has absolutely zero effect on you. Jason was also not faring too well. Seeing you in his jumper was quite endearing. But it had no effect on him either. Everyone looked good in knit. Thankfully, you both hear the parents walking around the corridors and are able to break the awkwardness. 

“Ready to go?” He asks.

“People will like history way better than English.” You promise in response, looking at your display on ancient civilisations, matching your 9th grade class’s current topic. The bright colours and big posters were sure to catch everyone’s eyes.

Jason smirks, “More people like Shakespeare than you think.” He references his own display: a large, badly drawn, picture of Shakespeare with literary technique thought bubbles surrounding him. You roll your eyes, desperately trying to stop any trace of a smile. You were still angry at him. But right now, the parents need your attention.

The two of you finally finished the evening. It had been taxing, no thanks to your revived rivalry. You spent the entire evening one-upping each other to parents, as subtle as possible of course. When the principal had checked in on your pair, you were sweet as saints. No matter how much you disliked the man, even you couldn't deny how well you worked together. He apologised multiple times about the coffee. He really did feel bad about it all. The spill really was an accident. He also apologised for his flakiness, but gave no explanation as to why he had abandoned you for weeks on end. You found no reasonable explanation incredibly hard to believe. So you still didn’t trust him. 

When the final parents left and the two of you began the tedious task of tidying, you walked up to him. “Just because we’ve worked well together tonight does not mean I forgive you. I know you’ve said sorry but until you prove it I don’t believe you.” You used your teacher voice but kept it low enough that the few listening ears wouldn’t have the chance for any gossip. Jason nods, gulping. You continue to work in silence. When the two of you finished packing everything away, highly efficiently you might add, you knew you ought to talk to Jason about Damian. No matter how much his brother disliked him, you knew you needed to talk to him about Damian. You wanted his family to encourage his creativity as both an outlet and a means to relax and socialise. You casually leant against a desk and spoke up. 

“This might be too personal-” Jason perked up at your voice. “-but I was wondering if you could ask your family to encourage Damian’s art and creativity. I’m aware he doesn’t really have many friends-” Jason scoffs and you stare him down. He was a grown man. He needed to act like one.

Jason breaks the silence, “He has one friend, Jon. He lives in Metropolis. They see each other pretty regularly.” Jason shrugs. “Does he really need more?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “You need to think like a teacher. Stop looking at him like your kid brother and see him as a child having trouble connecting with his peers. I want him to have someone to talk to while at school. Someone who is not me. And not you.” You add, even though you know Damian likely ignores his entire existence. “I’ve asked him to join the art club and go on Tuesday lunchtimes. I’m sure Ms Song has told you about how talented he is.”

“She hasn’t. You’re the only teacher who knows we’re related.” Jason shrugs again. His nonchalance was getting on your nerves. 

“What?”

“The school board and principal know, obviously. But we thought it would be better that his peers didn’t. We didn’t want him being accused of favouritism.” You suppose that makes sense. That could have isolated him further. Jason stepped towards you. “And you only know because of your bitching sessions.” Your eyes widen. “Yeah I know about those.” Jason taunts. 

This man. The nerve! And after you had graciously half-forgiven him. Surely Damian had not spilled the beans to his asshole brother. No. Jason probably found out by spying or some very nefarious plot. Why would he care anyway? Everyone else at this stupid school adored him. You were indulging his kid brother and helping him talk about his feelings. You were not in the wrong here. Jason was. And he was also far too close to you now. You don’t even know when he got so close. So close to one another that you could see every freckle. Every scar. Every pore on his gorgeous face. You were too close. And you knew you were flushing. You felt so hot. FROM REVITALISED LOATHING AND HATRED OF COURSE. Not from embarrassment. Or any other emotion. You steel your eyes. He would not know how much he affected you. Stupid smirking men do not get to win. You stand up straight and look him eye to eye. “Encourage Damian’s creativity. Your brother deserves more friends.” You dodge past Jason and grab your bag from under your desk. You motion for him to grab his shit. He does so and walks out, heading straight for the office to leave. Allowing you to lock up your classroom by yourself, in the empty school, not thinking about how close the two of you had been. Never thinking about his eyes or his hair or his lips. Peeling off his jumper and staring down the ugly brown coffee stain on your shirt, only thinking about the ways Jason had wronged you.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[creeperkiwi]

book shop | Jason Todd x Reader ᯓ★ 

sumarry: Jason is a fan of a series of unknown books, there is only one bookstore in the entire city that has them so he goes every week hoping to find the next volume, the bookstore worker has a proposal in exchange for the third volume .

male reader, word counter: 2,532

masterlist

The tinkling of the bell at the door announced his arrival. Jason crossed the threshold of the bookstore with measured steps, as if he feared disturbing the stillness of the place. Despite having walked this path dozens of times, each visit was still a ritual. His cold, serene eyes shifted from the shelves to the figure behind the counter, where the worker lifted his gaze from an open book.

"Hello, Jason," he greeted with a relaxed smile, setting the book aside. His black hair was messy, as though he hadn't had time (or the will) to fix it that morning.

"Hello," Jason replied with a slight nod, emotion absent from his voice. He couldn’t remember when he had started coming to this bookstore, but the dark-haired worker always made him feel as though they'd known each other for a lifetime.

Without saying more, Jason made his way to the usual shelf. He knew exactly where the book should be, and, as always, the third volume remained a vacant spot in the collection. His jaw tightened. "Ridiculous," he thought, yet his fingers skimmed the spines of the books as if he could will the one he sought into existence.

The dark-haired worker watched him from the counter, resting his elbows on the worn wood. There was something about Jason that always caught his attention, maybe the stiff way he moved or his contained expression, as though he carried a world of unspoken words.

"So?" the worker asked, with his usual light tone of mockery. Jason turned his head.

"So, what?"

"You're not going to ask about the book?" He tilted his head, his carefree smile seeming like a challenge.

Jason sighed, crossing his arms. "I already know you don’t have it. Asking would be a waste of time."

The dark-haired worker chuckled softly, a comfortable sound, as if he had just confirmed something he had been expecting.

"That's new. You used to insist more." He straightened up and pulled something from behind the counter. Jason furrowed his brow when he saw the book in his hands. It was volume 3.

"How...?" Jason started, but the worker raised a hand to stop him.

"It’s a long story. But I’m not going to tell you here." He held out the book, but when Jason reached for it, he pulled it back. "Unless you agree to go with me for a coffee."

Jason blinked, his face remaining expressionless, but something in his eyes reflected surprise.

"What?"

"A coffee," the worker repeated, calm, as though suggesting something as mundane as exchanging a bill. "It’s the price of the book."

Jason looked at him, trying to decide if he was serious. Finally, he let out a brief sigh.

"I guess I have no other choice."

"Of course not," he replied, grinning widely while playing with the book in his hand. "I finish at 5, the café is on the corner, I’ll wait for you there."

Without another word, Jason left with an annoyed look; he couldn't believe what had just happened.

—☆—

Jason arrived at the café five minutes late. For someone like him, that was already unforgivable. He opened the door with a bit more force than necessary and scanned the place until he found the dark-haired worker sitting by a window, playing with the spoon in his cup.

"You’re late," the worker said, smiling with that carefree air that seemed to mock everything.

"Five minutes doesn’t count as late," Jason replied, sliding into the chair opposite him. He adjusted his jacket, a gesture that made him seem even more distant than he already was. "Besides, I didn’t think you'd take it so seriously."

"Of course I do." He set down the spoon and looked at him with squinted eyes, but the smile never faded. "That’s why I brought you here, right?"

Jason raised an eyebrow but didn’t reply. Instead, he turned his gaze to the steaming coffee the worker had ordered for him. He took a sip, as though needing the time to decide if it was worth continuing the conversation.

"So?" Jason finally said, placing the cup down with a slight clink. "Why so insistent on the coffee?"

The dark-haired worker rested his chin in his hand, clearly enjoying Jason’s attitude. "It’s not that complicated. I like you."

"Is that all?" Jason tilted his head, his sharp eyes relentless. "I thought there was a more interesting purpose behind it."

"Well…" The worker paused theatrically, leaning back in his chair. "Maybe you’re somewhat cute, and I knew you'd only accept if I gave you the book."

Jason stiffened for just a moment, but he didn’t let the worker see it. "Did you bring volume 3?"

"Maybe."

Jason snorted, resting an elbow on the table and looking at him with a mix of exasperation and amusement. "You’re irritating, you know that?"

"I know." The worker grinned widely, as if he took it as a compliment.

They spent a few minutes talking about trivial matters: the weather, the bookstore, the oddities of the regular customers. Jason, though cold and reserved, found himself surprisingly comfortable. After a while, his voice, always sharp, took on a slower tone.

"You know… I’ve read the first two volumes at least three times," Jason said, not looking directly at him, his gaze fixed on the edge of his cup. "It’s rare to find something so... real. I don’t know who the hell the author is, but it seems like he knows exactly how things work. It’s like he’s lived it."

The worker, who had been playing with a napkin, dropped his gaze when he heard that.

"That good, huh?" he asked, his voice softer this time.

Jason shrugged, but his expression was less indifferent than usual. "I don’t care if it’s good or not. What matters is that it doesn’t sound like all those idiots who think they understand the world. This guy... he really gets it."

A silence stretched between them until the worker finally spoke.

"Jason." His voice was laden with something Jason couldn’t identify at first. He leaned forward a bit, pulling something from his bag. It was the book. He placed it on the table, pushing it toward Jason with a casual gesture.

"Here, it’s yours."

Jason furrowed his brow. As soon as he saw the cover, he felt a mix of disbelief and relief. It was volume 3. For a few seconds, he simply held it in his hands, examining it as though it might be an illusion.

"How did you get this?" he asked, his tone more serious than usual.

The worker fiddled with the napkin in front of him, avoiding his gaze. "Let’s just say I have a certain... connection with the author."

Jason looked at him intently. There was something in the worker’s casual tone, in the way he avoided his gaze. His words started to echo in Jason’s head: "It’s like he’s lived it." He remembered the little phrases and details in the books, things that always seemed oddly intimate, as though the author was speaking directly to him.

"Connection, huh?" Jason said, his voice taking on a mocking tone. He raised an eyebrow. "What kind of connection?"

The worker shrugged, but there was a faint blush on his cheeks. "I guess you could say I know him pretty well."

Jason fell silent, observing him. His fingers drummed on the table as he processed the obvious. The worker had that same way of speaking, that same way of looking at the world with a mix of sincerity and mockery. Finally, he let out a snort, a brief laugh, but one with meaning.

"You’re the author, aren’t you?" Jason said, not breaking eye contact.

The worker looked up with a shy but amused smile. "Maybe."

Jason let out a sigh and leaned on the table, resting his chin in his hand. "So all this time, I’ve been telling you how amazing you are. Did you have fun watching me not realize?"

The worker let out a nervous laugh. "Well, it wasn’t that fun. I think this is the first time someone’s talked about my books that way."

Jason shook his head, but deep down there was a small curve on his lips, barely perceptible. "You’re an idiot."

"And you’re a passionate reader." The worker’s smile widened with more confidence.

Jason took the book but didn’t get up right away. "For what it’s worth, your books are good. Don’t change that."

The worker stayed there, looking at him, surprised by the sincerity hidden in those words.

Jason placed the book on the table, his fingers slowly tracing the spine, as though he wanted to mark every word before saying anything. The worker watched him, the tension in the air palpable, but neither of them wanted to break the silence first. Finally, it was Jason who spoke, his tone now a little softer but without losing that hint of disdain that made him unique.

"You know, I never imagined you’d be behind all this." Jason looked up, his eyes cold but with a hint of curiosity. "I thought the bookstore was just a place to... find books, not a place for someone to be both a writer and a bookseller at the same time."

The worker let out a nervous laugh, playing with the empty cup. "Well, not everyone has to be so... direct. Some people prefer anonymity, you know?"

Jason didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he observed the worker, his gaze a little warmer now. Maybe it was the proximity, or perhaps the surprise of discovering that everything he had been looking for had been right in front of him all along.

"What if one day you write something new? "Jason asked casually, almost as if he didn’t care too much, although the question had been on his mind for a while.

The dark-haired man fell silent for a moment, clearly deep in thought, before shrugging. "You never know. Though for now, the third one is the last. "He said this with a wistful smile, as if he had already accepted the inevitability of goodbye.

Jason stared at him, weighing his words. Finally, he let out a low laugh, tinged with mockery, but also a hint of interest.

"Maybe I could accept more outings with you." Jason paused, looking up and watching for the dark-haired man’s reaction. —In exchange for a fourth volume, of course.

The dark-haired man tensed, his face turning a little red, and the confident smile he had was completely gone. Something in Jason’s gaze, that almost defiant glint, made him immediately understand what the guy was truly suggesting. It wasn’t just the book that was drawing him in.

"A fourth... volume? "The dark-haired man murmured, his voice softer, hesitant. "That... isn’t in my plans."

Jason let out a small laugh, a little softer this time, and leaned forward, enjoying the other’s discomfort.

"Yeah, sure. "Jason said, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and something else, something the dark-haired man couldn’t quite pinpoint. "But, you know, we could talk about more books... if that sounds good to you."

The dark-haired man blushed even more, desperately searching for words. "It’s just that..." he took a breath, trying to maintain composure "I just... the third volume is the end, there’s... no more."

Jason leaned back in his chair, watching the dark-haired man’s reaction with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction. "Are you sure? Because you seem nervous, and not because of the book."

The dark-haired man couldn’t help but blush even more, realizing that Jason’s intentions went beyond books and reading. Jason, with his typical defiant attitude, had put him in an uncomfortable position, and now all he could do was smile shyly, unable to say anything coherent.

"It’s just... the third volume is the end, okay? " he said, his voice much softer and more nervous than before.

Jason crossed his arms, observing the dark-haired man’s reaction with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction. "Sure, sure. But maybe there’s something else you could write... in your free time." He let the phrase drop like an insinuation, enjoying watching the boy blushing in front of him.

The dark-haired man looked at Jason for a moment, his gaze thoughtful, as if he were making a decision. Then, with a soft smile, he took out his phone and slid it towards Jason.

"I think it would be a good idea for you to have my number." he said in a casual tone, as if it were something simple, but with a slight spark in his eyes that hinted at a deeper suggestion.

Jason raised an eyebrow, surprised by the offer, but in the end, he said nothing. He took the phone and, after a brief silence, added his number, handing the phone back.

"I hope you don’t bombard me with messages" he said, his mocking tone still present, but there was something softer in his voice than before.

The dark-haired man let out a soft laugh, a little amused, as he put the phone in his pocket.

"I can’t promise anything." he smiled again, crossing his arms, as if already thinking about the next conversation.

Jason made a gesture of indifference, but deep down, the idea of staying in touch with him seemed... kind of interesting. However, before he could say anything more, the dark-haired man, with his usual calmness, said in a low voice, almost like a casual observation:

"By the way, if you ever decide you’re not satisfied with just books, let me know. I’m sure you could enjoy more than one conversation."

Jason looked at him, the surprise of the suggestion briefly visible in his eyes. Immediately, he regained his posture, but the mocking tone faded a little as he tried to remain calm.

"And what do you know about my tastes outside of books?" he responded with some disdain, but there was also a touch of discomfort in his voice.

The dark-haired man leaned back with a calm smile, as if he had won the little battle. "I’ll only know if you decide to let me invite you for coffee again."

Jason snorted, turning toward the door with a half-smile. "We’ll see, then."

But before he could leave, the dark-haired man reached him at the threshold with one last word.

"Hey, Jason..." —he called, and when he turned around, the dark-haired man stared at him with a playful smile. "You don’t have to get nervous, I’m not going to do anything bad to you."

Jason looked at him, confused for a moment, until the dark-haired man, with a soft and closer tone, added:

"It’s just... you’ve already turned a little red."

Jason, surprised, put his hand to his neck, as if trying to hide, but it was obvious. The dark-haired man had already noticed, and, still smiling, turned and left, leaving Jason standing there, blushing with a mix of irritation and amusement.

Jason watched him leave, feeling an odd mixture of satisfaction and embarrassment. "You’re an idiot." he murmured to himself. But he couldn’t help the slight smile on his face.

[jscrawls]

Widows rest

My take on a Black widow! Reader x Batman and Batfam but with a slight twist, reader doesn't know the Bats but they seem to know them...

Warning: contains avengers infinity war spoilers, black widow spoilers, mentions of death, hospitals, poor writing, possible ooc,

Chapter 3: An apple a day..

You're frustrated, your limbs shake and you struggle to even hold a plastic spoon without dropping it, you've been injured and bed bound countless times sure, but this feels like the most helpless you've ever been. You feel like a toddler, limbs weak and twitching and the medicine they've got you on doesn't help at all, nausea and brain fog feel like close friends at this point. Every time the door to your room opens you wonder if it's gonna be your teammates, telling you this was all a misunderstanding, you'd almost accept a sick prank if it meant you weren't going insane in this tiny linoleum floored room by your lonesome.

The staff's not very careful with their medical equipment, you note. Even with your shaky hands you've managed to snag a syringe and a bit of tubing and hidden it under your mattress, it's hardly anything, but a weapons a weapon. it gives you a tiny piece of confidence in this situation, maybe you'll be able to take someone out if worse comes to worse.

🔹🔹🔹

The doctor's back, Doing his final sweep before his shifts over according to him, you don't trust has word though since you've heard the nurses complaining about doing too much per shift. Why is he focused on you? At the moment he's prepping another dose of Thiamine across the room, the though of him injecting anything into your IV sets you on edge in the worst of ways, but you force yourself to smile at him and look relaxed, your fists clench underneath the blanket to stop yourself from going for the syringe when he approaches. He's too cheery, too comfortable in your presence, even your co-workers aren't so calm with you, stark doesn't turn his back to you, rogers watches you too often, that's your normal, compared to the situation you're in now you’d take it over this borderline creepy behavior.

“Your scans are already looking better, mx Wayne. When you were first brought in I wasn't sure what to expect but your recovery is looking perfect at this stage.” the doctor remarks casually, disposing of the syringe after dosing you.

You sharply glance over, what did you look like when you first came in? Something related to the fall? “What caused my injuries?”

He opens his mouth to answer, looking at you with a serious expression on his face when something loud bangs outside the door -

“Wait you have to sign in!” You hear out in the rest of the facility, one of the nurses sounding frantic. Your heart rate jumps and your hand curls around the syringe just as the door to your room slams open. It's the mystery husband Mr Wayne.

His suit is slightly rumpled, dark circles under his eyes and hair unkempt like he'd ran his hand through it, a far cry from the polished man in the photo you were shown. The way he looks at you makes your skin crawl. there's too much raw emotion there, too much familiarity that you don't share. You keep your face carefully neutral as he approaches, your fingers twitching around the syringe beneath the thin hospital blanket.

“God, look at you…”

He doesn't hesitate to cup your face as soon as he reaches you, he breathes your name with such aching reverence and familiarity you'd think it was a prayer. eyes searching yours as his thumbs tenderly rub against your cool cheeks, it takes a surprising amount of restraint to hold still, let the man examine you like a chipped teacup. He let's out a shaky breath and his whole body just…sags, you don't like the way he subconsciously leans in, it's too real, the body language too genuine. You're tense enough to hurt.

“Mr Wayne, if I could have a moment.” The doctor speaks hesitantly from nearby, pulling attention to him and the hands pull from your face. You resist a sigh of relief as the stranger pulls back, your hand slowly releasing the syringe and tucking it back under the thin mattress.

Wayne straightens up, a just too thin smile stretches his face and he puts his right hand in his pocket, interesting, hiding irritation? You analyze every inch of him as soon as he looks away, you need more information then you have, Your hands clench under the blankets in veiled frustration.

Their conversation is hushed, no doubt you're the main topic of discussion, their body language is mixed, “Mr Wayne” shows agitation, shifting weight, tense hands in his pockets, head keeps turning to glance at you. The doctor is deferring to him, head slightly lowered and palms up as he speaks, Who is this Wayne man?

After hearing words like “amnesia” and “head trauma” a few times you realize he wasn't informed by the doctors, unless this is all an act for you. Trying to convince you of what though? You don't know what they're playing at yet but you're going to find out, it's what you're best at after all.

The man returns to your bedside and carefully sits, thankfully keeping his hands to himself this time as he examines you, you've got things to figure out so you put on an expression of lost, body language conveying uncertainty and tiredness you don't have to fake that part though.

“nice to meet my partner,” you give an uncertain smile, voice drained and small, you're carefully watching him and he seems to be eating it up

“It's…nice to see you, meet you…. I'm - how are you feeling?”

You smile cluelessly at him, though internally you're cringing at the syrupy awkwardness dripping from his lips. He's attached to you and you don't know anything about him.

“tired, nauseous.” You pull the appropriate expression at that. “I'm…. Confused, I don't even know…anything. How old i am, what city I live in. We're married?” You look at him dazedly, fishing for information as you twist in your hospital bed to face him better.

“Yeah, yeah we're married…we have a family, pets, vacation home in Barcelona. Do you remember any of the kids?” He sounds like he's choking on the words, his voice catching a he studies you. His eyes darting to the side of your head from time to time.

“no, kids plural?” Your brows raise, Rugrats, you? No fucking way.

“Yeah, a lot of kids…” he shakily pulls his phone out, his lock screen is a picture of the two of you, what the hell? He starts showing you pictures of the kids and telling you their names. None of them look like you, you question him about that and he chuckles quietly to himself.

“Well, they're not mine either for your information. Except for Damian that is, he's mine…. Happened before we were married.” He elaborates quickly, clearly thinking you'd get upset. “We're adoptees.”

You're silent as you take in all that information, white picket fence marriage with a gaggle of adopted children? What is this a Hallmark movie? Sickening. You lay your head against the pillow and gesture towards him when you notice his eyes on you, asking to look through the phone like you're interested in seeing the kids. You're good at acting at the very least.

🔹🔹🔹

After Bruce was kicked out of the hospital he makes a call and slowly trudged through the halls and doors until he found himself in the parking garage climbing into his car. He plugs his phone in and calls Alfred while he starts to pull out of the hospital parking.

“Master Bruce, how was it? Were they coherent? I heard they were…”

The older man's voice echoes from the dash after the Bluetooth connects, he sounds professional as always but Bruce can tell he's hesitant.

“They're amnesiac, yeah. They don't know who they are, who I am.” Bruce's hands clench around the steering wheel.

“I…I am sorry to hear that, my boy. I had hoped that the information was a fluke…” even without seeing him Bruce can tell the older man's disappointed, he can almost picture him slumping against a counter or wall.

“Alfred they're…” his voice trails, sounding offput.

“Yes?” Alfred's voice perks up again, no doubt hoping for something better to discuss.

“…they were studying me, not like they were confused. Alfred, no they were reading me.” Bruce's eyes remain in the road even though he's alone in the car.

🔹🔹🔹

A/n: hope the dialogue isn't too cringe, I'm new at this! Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter regardless ☺️

Taglist: @cxcilla @redsakura101 @mercuryathens @dind1n

[strangepoppy]

Such a cozy scene :3

boyfriend!jason todd who watch movies with you that he probably would never have the idea to watch on his own. mainly because, he doesn't do movies much. he doesn't really have time for this with his work. and when he does end up having time he prefers a good book, or/and spend time with you. 

so one day, in this time dedicated to you, in between the violence of gotham, and your tiring life, you offer him to watch something. and of course, jason agrees. he would do close to anything you ask him to, and this one is much more easier to him than not beating someone up over the 'mere' fact that they dared eyeing you weirdly, or speaking about you before him. but in those times, you'll gently rest you hand on his arm, tilt your head to the side in this way that draws him in, and tell him it's not worth it, and that if he really wants to do something for you, it's to restrain this urge to smack some random at your regular coffee because he definitely checked you over. and he would do it. for you? he would do anything. even if that's mean not using violence, the only way he thought he could show you his love -even if jason doesn't want to taint you with his violent way, but violence is the only thing he knew for a long time, the only constant thing in his life. before you. so you show him other way. and he thinks it's worth it when he sees the look on your face when he agrees to do something as mundane as watching a movie.

so jason ends up sitting on your couch, his legs propped up on the coffee table with you curled up at his side, head on his shoulder while your arms are wrapped around his torso. and he keeps you close, letting your perfume gets to his head and shut down all the worries he accumulated this week. it's only you and him. you showing him a movie you love. he wants to indulge in your interest, get to know you even better than he already does. and, boy, does he know you. knows every single mole on your body. kiss them too. knows exactly what to say to make your face lights up. knows that you like to bake when things become too overwhelming.

occasionally, during the movie, he looks down at you, watches how focused you are on the movie, making sure you're enjoying your time with him. he would lean and kiss the top of your head, lingering to watch the way your mouth curl up in a smile. sometimes, he would look down at you, and your gaze would met his. with a smile on your face. you would pester him -not convincingly but you don't intend to be anyway- about having to focus on the movie, or he will end up nagging you with questions -you don't really mind, you will answer every single one of his questions, and he would pretend to be confused only to see you getting all excited to explain. he would shake his head, a smile of his own making its way on his face -the type of smile reserved to you, and only you- and still place a kiss against your hair.

bonus : he would then end up quoting lines from these movies on a daily basis, because he loves the way your face lights up -after all, he does know what to say to do just that.

the thing is he would quote it on patrol too. dick would tell him he did a good job tonight, and jason would be like "what like it's hard?", leaving his brothers flabbergasted, mouth agape, "did he just quote legally blonde?”

[occasionalsnippets]

Important follow up for fd!mc

Do the public and criminals notice there's a new female Nightwing or does she have the suit (skin tight and only a domino mask) made to hide it?

What kind of rumors would she start?

I can't help but feel thay fd!mc Nightwing is full of malicious compliance and pettiness

Taglist: @dragondevinity, @lonely-star2044, @sheep-from-rad, @ilxandra, @thethingwiththefeathers, @star-wars-lycanwing-bat, @sackofsadstuff, @zonked-times, @paastaboi, @venfia, @fantasy-angelo, @linaisadream, @shirp-collector-of-fixations, @roseapov, @alittletiredcry

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MC as Nightwing wears padding to fill out the areas where their frame doesn't match. It's not perfect and there are some rumours like "Hey, has Nightwing's waist gotten smaller?" and "Am I crazy or has Nightwing's face gotten prettier" but no one thinks there's a new person behind Nightwing.

They can't mimic Dick's voice that well yet so they're quiet the first couple weeks which accidentally scares a couple of criminals because Nightwing??? Not cracking jokes and bantering???? Something's wrong. After they manage to get his voice down though, they're able to act as Nightwing pretty well though. Still, whenever MC fills in, they're a bit off. Something's just scarier about Nightwing recently...

Because they've been acting as Robin for a really long time, a lot of those "Robin-like" traits come through when they're filling in as Nightwing. They're very snarky. Something about wearing the costume just inspires it in them.

At least once, they go on patrol without the extra padding, does not elaborate, and the public just has to accept there was female Nightwing one night for some reason.