#i can imagine Bruce getting too into character

[mylifeingotham]

I want to see actual episodes of ‘Make it Wayne’ like imagine

Damian- I start laughing at Tim when he's crying because I can’t help it. He has this ugly crying face that he makes

Bruce- Did you guys know I’m the most googled person this week?

Jason- That’s because he Googles himself

Bruce- Dick would you stop taking pictures of yourself? Your brother’s (Jason) going to jail!

Dick- I lost my diamond plated watch in the ocean!

Tim- Dick there’s people that are dying

Then Alfred is just like- …

[acid-ixx]

Sigh.. We all should've have chosen both wally and conner...i can't imagine the faces of batfam

how to be a heartbreaker! (again &. again concept)

ft. yandere! wally west, starfire, roy harper, artemis, conner kent, bart allen x gn! neglected! reader w/ platonic yandere! batfam.

— masterlist !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

tw: age gaps but there isn't nsfw (except for conner) and the reader is described to be older than 20 in this concept and was far ignored longer than in the og story.

a/n: happy (late) halloween! 🎃 i'm praying to the gods, please don't let this post flop, i'm in my flop era fr! because i am not writing allat for it to get ignored 💔 (just kidding i love u guys, especially to all those who comment! i read all your comments even if i'm unable to reply at times). if you guys are wondering why i didn't include all the characters, it's because this is just a drabble and if anyone likes more concepts about this, please send in asks! anyways, enjoy this sweet harem au hehe.

anon, you are so right. but let me raise you this: getting together with all your siblings' teammates. i'm not just saying wally and conner, no! i'm saying the young justice, the teen titans, all their friends and old pals— the moment you come of age, hide under the radar for a few years and eventually meet them at random. you'd be giving dick, hell, even bruce, your father, mind you, a run for his money when it comes to a player reputation amongst the siblings, and the best part (or worst part for you once it's too late...) of it all is the fact that you don't even have to keep all your little relationships with them a secret when they never once bat an eye on you until recently.

the funny thing is: you didn't even have to try to attract them. it was all them approaching you at random days and getting to know you better, with you, at your lowest point, accepting any medium of attention. at first it was them feeling pity, perceptive to how your siblings chose to focus on them rather than you, but now it's them chasing after you because you're so interesting in every aspect; even if you find yourself average at best compared to your talented siblings.

maybe it's because you bring the normal out in them, or because you display such raw emotions and are an entirely separate being from vigilantism. either way, they find themselves thinking about you more often than their missions and that's harrowing.

and because you're such a pathetic, wet cat, so desperate for love; all the people you hit on develop a savior complex because of you. i don't just mean them finding you cute, or interesting, absolutely not. i mean you're constantly being thrown around like a prince or princess who needs a knight in shining armor to catch them when they fall, except you're constantly being carried in some other's arms even when you can stand on your own two feet.

you just have that special quality in you that makes everyone fall head over heels. it makes them fantasize scenarios of a home life with you; they could provide better than your current ones do, for sure. you'd be spoiled to death with kisses to your face, hands wrapped around your body, and a guarantee that you'll never feel alone or unsafe in a world full of danger that lurks around the corner.

that same quality may have also been your downfall.

wally west doesn't mind training all day to become stronger and faster to save you from every danger that lingers near your presence. hell, he doesn't complain anymore whenever dick assigns him some missions if that means he can pass by your room by the manor as an after-mission reward, loving it when you smile at him with the gentlest quip of your mouth as he hastily wraps you in his arms with the same amount of speed it took to run to your house. wally cherishes watching you in slow-time because he could worship every little part of his darling's expression, quelling the boredom he had for the entire day. he wants to be fast enough for his babe, not only just to impress them but because he wants them to see him as the only reliable individual capable enough of protecting and flirting with you. not everyone can measure up to his speed, no? nobody could keep up with this man's speed and he's known for taking you away whenever you're with someone else just to get a sliver of your time.

starfire's emotions become ablaze and so does her powers every time she notices one of your other sweethearts becoming too touchy with you, unable to comprehend why you're not even in a relationship with her yet. but you're too sweet and you bury yourself in her curly tresses to calm her down. at first that's enough! she doesn't understand the concept of physical affection and the boundaries that come with it as much as others but boy does she crave it when it comes to you. it doesn't help the fact that you're incapable of sometimes denying her affections and letting yourself be constantly kissed by the girl in every part of your face. she's very warm, though, and her curiosity about things foreign to her, paired with you teaching her more about your world, makes starfire adore her sweetheart's willingness and patience; it simply warrants another passionate kiss in the mouth from the pink-haired alien.

roy harper brings out a more rebellious side of you that you never imagine yourself sporting. his experiences in life and his rebellious relationship towards oliver queen, his adoptive father shapes him to who he is now; and he'd be damned if you drown yourself in endless misery like he did. yeah, it doesn't help that lian loves you as much as he does and he thinks you're the perfect match for him, watching you play with his little girl and care for him whenever he's injured does wonders for the fantasies that plays itself in his head, all scenarios of coming home to you after a hard day of work, just to see you and lian greet him the moment he enters your shared house with him, kissing him in the lips, telling him about the wonderfully prepared dinner you and lian whipped up for him, and watching your eyes widen at another bouquet of your favorite flowers he bought home for you. you're not in a relationship with him at all but can't a man just dream?

why dick wonders every damn time one of his friends ditch another one of their hangouts is a question never to be answered. but it's been noticeable these days that he's starting to suspect something wrong at play, especially since he's noticed tension within his comrades, and as a leader he couldn't just simply ignore the tense glares, insults to their being, and the hushed whispers; all pet names, a mantra they're used to calling you.

but dick doesn't take it seriously until it's too late.

that his baby bird long fell off the nest years ago, taken into the arms of whom he thought to be his most trusted comrades, thoroughly loved more than he could've given you. and it's not just one person smitten with you; it's an entire harem of people unwilling to share you just as much as dick who'd soon realize that he shares far more similarities with you; a heartbreaker, yet a caretaker at heart.

it's no wonder why everybody wants you for themselves. it's not only your family who loves to hear your precious laughs and gentle hands; that sets the jealousy ablaze in his heart.

jason never thought that artemis carried a softer version of her. but he's been picking up telltale signs of her donning dangling keychains, all cute doodles of her no doubt, and necklaces he's sure he's seen around the manor at times. it's not her typical style, and she never really found the appeal with cute things like crochet plushies of her; yet the designs are oddly reminiscent to someone he always called his angel. but whenever he tries to bring the topic up, he only receives a snarky reply, a protective hold on her things, and a familiar phrase telling him to mind his business. he isn't aware of how she met you one time after you've nearly been crushed to death by a car accelerating at you, if not for her taking the blunt end of the hit. ever since that day you've been seeing her regularly by alleyways watching over you as your guardian and giving her tokens of appreciation, albeit small, that she keeps as her prized properties; ones nobody has special access to touch. she's not much of a heckler for physical touch, but she occasionally gives you a head scratches and the rare peck to your lips.

jason doesn't like how jealous he is towards her, because of how the would-be stranger treats her and why he can't seem to pinpoint the primal urge to rip those little trinkets from her. sometimes he feels like a man possessed, eyeing the keychains and the random pastel bracelets longer, all warranting the same angered glare artemis reciprocates.

he swore he's seen them before, splayed across the random rooms in the manor, some even being in the library; things he loved to fiddle with whenever he was bored out of his mind. so seeing them being proudly displayed by artemis triggers visceral reactions within him.

but could jason do anything about it when he's part of the reason why your roster consists of your family's comrades? no.

if you couldn't get attention from your family, you'll just have to get it through their affiliations. yeah, some are older than you, but god are you treated like divinity with just how willing they are to kneel upon your feet just to gain a crumb of your attention. even the strongest lay weak whenever you look at them with disappointment or sadness with your wide, captivating eyes.

all the times tim drake would be with teammates, he'd notice how their eyes look at him expectantly, as if waiting for another one to accompany them. at first he ignores it, but the longer their strange behavior persists, he begins opening a case about his close friends.

he soon realizes that conner has a record of mentioning "his cute little darling," and how he'd brag to his other friends about how left his jacket and all his favorite t-shirts in your room and how you're always drowning in his scent— always quiping about just how much it smells like you and how he enjoys wearing all his clothes right after you wear them just to get a whiff of your presence in his life; you being his motivation to fight against crime just so he could see your pretty face and tell him you're proud of him. undeniably, he's the one who spends the longest time with you and he's prideful about it, being the only man with the privilege to touch every part of your skin, wishing to melt against you just so he'd be branded in your body like how your name is the only sweet thing he can taste in his mouth.

it's not only conner, but bart allen would bounce around more often demanding that it's unfair how conner gets everything and how he gets little time with you, with just how often you get thrown around by all your love interests! he'd admit just how cute he finds you whenever you coo about him and play with his messy locks of hair whenever it's his time of the week to visit you right after missions. spending time with him is arguably the most casual part of your life, because he loves to help you with your daily errands despite him complaining about the same tasks to his other teammates... he says it's because you stimulate every part of his brain to find satisfaction in every small action that you do, but it's not only that, rather, he wishes to gain all your praises that you sing for him, never finding boredom in your presence at all.

tim's the first one who pieces the jigsaw puzzle together, but he's thoroughly astounded either way at just how smitten they are with you. it makes him open an entirely different case that's just about you; where he discovers how you're connected with nearly everyone close to him and his siblings.

it makes him wonder what makes you all the more interesting. it's how exactly he spirals into a periodic cluster of events investigating your entire life and drowning himself in work, terabytes of files each analyzed carefully— all about you, your past, and present situation. tim drake never saw a person this admired that much, so much so that online stalking lead to physical stalking.

all your dm's are spammed by countless people, and you don't even take the initiative to reply because you'd be too busy being tossed around by the time the vigilante tracks your location. it's honestly amusing at first but the longer tim become a third perspective to your life, the more he craves your physical presence, just to get a taste of dissecting all the thoughts in your brain. but with just how often their friends fight over you, it'd be hard to rip you away from the clawing hands of all your admirers.

that's why he sets a plan into motion. if he couldn't have you to himself, then he could at least share you with the closest people he had in his life— not with all the strangers who think they know his younger sibling better than he does.

a simple document, many actually, so documents, were all he needed, with printed stacks of a4 paper compiling each and every known fact about you.

all in the name of love, he'd give it out to every member of the family in quick succession.

a hefty reminder to take back what once was theirs.

[sheep-from-rad]

Idea! Neglected bar singer darling.

The joint they sing in is on the very outskirts of Gotham. The bars in the basement of a restaurant.

Its pretty clear darling is saving up money to slowly inch away from Gotham and from there neglectful and sometimes (often) cold family.

So they dress as a Him/femme/them fatale and saunter up to the stage and sing there lil heart out and get both the thrill of all the attention in a room being on them and the money in there tip jar to boot.

Imagine what happens when a clip of darling singing goes fucking viral. (I'd like to think it's would be "be your baby tonight" give it a listen if you want. I like norah jones' cover)

What I'm saying is there is no way any of the batfam would approve of darlings career choice.

I love this kind of asks!~ Requests are now open again but we warned, I'm a snail paced writer T__T This took a while because I have this habit where I write it down first on paper before typing it. Like I make a draft first and reread before typing it to see if I should add more or remove some. First fic about singer reader: here and part 2 here. 😅

**DC characters belong to DC and I don't give permission to feed my writings to AI. Thank you**

Masterlist(Batfam)

Masterlist (All of my other fics)

divider by: @k1ssyoursister

Okay okay, here me out. I know you said secret bar under a restaurant but my brain read the word ‘bar’ and ran away with it 😭. 

You know what this smells like? Scandal and maybe even a disaster waiting to happen too. You know what's a famous bar in Gotham? The Iceberg lounge that is run by Mr. Cobblepot (Penguin) and  is frequented by rogues  such as Riddler. 

Life in the Iceberg Lounge isn't that bad, maybe intimidating at first but it became a small comfort. Mr. Cobblepot lets you keep the tips, the lounge beauties (Raven, Lark, and Jay) are great companies, and workplace harassment? You don't really have to worry about that. If you ever get flirted on or harassed by small fries and drunkards and then rest assured a bigger, scarier person at the back of the crowd will beat the harasser and throw them out. They might be villains but they have standards and harassing the lounge’s songbird is a big no no! 

The clip of the singer reader went viral for a ton of different reasons: (1) The singing and the amount of simps you raked 24 hours after the clip has been posted. I have a headcanon that Mr. Cobblepot will nickname you as either Nightingale or Songbird to fit the crew because the lounge beauties are nicknamed after birds.(2) People can see villains just chilling at the background of the video. Riddler's nursing a whiskey at the counter, Two face is playing chess with Penguin who is multitasking in helping mix some drinks. Hell, even Harley and Ivy are in the background having a moment with the strippers.

(3) Why is Bruce Wayne’s kid at the Iceberg lounge? I have a teeny tiny headcanon that even though the reader was neglected they are still forced to attend galas once or twice because Bruce won't and then it will be like a big media scandal. Also reader's public appearances with Bruce or with the other Wayne children might be low but they still have hundreds of followers. The Wayne name alone is basically a celebrity name because of Bruce being heavily revered by the public. Think of it like nepobaby shit. (4) That stage presence and sheer seductiveness. Being a Wayne, I'm sure the reader was taught etiquette by Alfred and was taught how to dress properly. They are also taught how to behave. However on that vid, you look like you were dressed by the Gotham sirens (Ivy, Harley, and Selena) themselves. All those good boy, good girl, good child stuff are out of the window. If the reader was just blending in the background before and the video is the opposite. It's almost commanding every viewer to look at them, pay attention to them, worship the very ground they walk on, and love them! At this point just expect simps. 

The family loves the video but at the same time they also hate it. They had their copies downloaded and saved and then they'll immediately task Barbara into scrubbing the video off of the internet but it's too late. The video has been re-uploaded to hundreds of different accounts and some  news outlets had already published articles about it. The articles ranged from sweet ones like praising the reader for their awesome stage performance and singing to downright insane clickbaits like ‘Bruce Wayne secretly allied with Gotham rogues?’ 

The whole thing is very stressful and I pray to the DC gods that Bruce Wayne is very healthy because this guy's blood pressure might as well go high up. Imagine trying so hard to keep up with the ditzy playboy public persona to hide your vigilante secret identity only for your kid to be filmed singing and being cozy at the Iceberg lounge. Not only that! You also placed yourself in danger too! It's not a secret that a lot of rouges knew Batman's real identity (Joker knows it, he just doesn't care. He's so cool for that). Sure they don't attack Batman when he's Bruce and sure they are a sweet pseudo-family to you right now but who's to say that they won't use you when push comes to shove? 

While Bruce deals with the media, Barbara and Tim work on the damage control and tracking every video, expect heavy guilt tripping and interference from Damian, Dick, and even Alfred (in his defense, he wants you safe and will only ask for you to get a better job or at least work in a place not frequented by villains). Dick will be actively poisoning the well. He'll make you sit down and read the crime archives with him (starting from the heaviest crime down to the pettiest crime) and will tell you stories about their encounters with each of them. Damian will try to keep you from getting to work and will try to keep you in your room if you haven't moved out of the estate. He'll ask you to go around with him, feed his pets with him and even asked you to watch him train (he doesn't know how bonding works, please be understanding). If you had left the estate and then expect him to show up and walk in your place like he owns it. He's one of those cats that you feed once and then suddenly shows up and won't leave you alone anymore. 

Oh, you still won't come home? You still wanna continue that dangerous job of yours? Pick your poison then. Do you want them to call Jason to get to the bar and take you home, knowing him some heads will sure go flying. Or do you want the family to stage a stakeout, infiltrate the bar, and capture and lock up all the villains forever. Go on, go choose. 

[evilminji]

Dani should Kidnap The Clones.

It's basicly protective custody. Preemptive child services, if you will. NONE of these fuckers out here makin adorable clone baby just cause they want kids!

*kicks down the door to your shady lab* Knock Knock! ITS THE POLICE! *Walker's Shock troopers swarm the place as Dani secures the kids*

Look me in the eyes. You KNOW he'd love an excuse to enforce The Rules on people technically outside his jurisdiction. It's for The Children(tm)! Why, he simply had no CHOICE!

Meanwhile? Dani is shoving all these mal-adjusted Murder Clones into her Lair? Which is? Basicly a Door style Lair she hid inside Danny's Lair for safe keeping. It's shoved behind a vending machine just outside the observatory. And the inside? Goes on for DAYS.

Like national parks and every beautiful beach she ever came across. She smashed together the BEST sights and places she's found in her travels, like a collection. Always adding more. New waterfalls, new noodle shops, new fields of wine grapes. It's... beautiful. Snapshots of every wonderous little thing about Earth, stitched together.

They can't hurt anyone. Can't achieve their "objectives". Are just treated like actual individuals and the children they truely are. Are surrounded by other Clones. So it's NORMAL here. Just? All of it.

But also?

Dani and Dan? Teaming up to make History's Scariest Adoption Agency(TM). Dan runs it. Dan wants to know why EXACTLY you want a kid. Explain yourself to Dan. What are your references? Qualifications. He's doing a home visit to inspect the premises. He BETTER not find any suspicious Labs.

And? It just? Appears out of nowhere. It's powered by Zone Bullshit. One second you're thinking "oh woe is me D:> I will never have a child to fill my lovely home, because of all my Superhero Secrets and also because government bureaucracy!" And the next?

.....wasn't that an out of business taco bell? "Zone Adoptions"?

"....Free Clone Baby?"

Okay that is HIGHLY suspicious and as a hero you are basicly legally obligated to investigate. But now it's bigger on the inside? Fancy waiting room? You are being interrogated? Wait, no, you're supposed to be the one doing the-?

Somehow? You leave with your Clone Son from another Dimension. And a pamphlet. You're scheduled for a home visit in three days. You... you never told them where you live.

Somehow that doesn't seem like it will slow them down.

Did the Fae just Suprise Baby you with a clone baby? Can they DO that? W... what's happening? What days is this? Who ARE YOU PEOPLE?! HUH!?!?

Just? Imagine. IMAGINE. I was gonna say Bruce... but?

Damian.

He finds himself... pondering What Could Have Been. Had his Clones not wanted him dead. Wondering if he could have saved them. If, perhaps, he had found them as infants. Raised them. Could he have given them a good life? Been a good father?

He gets emotional. Fatherly. He's about 14.

Dan's been around Ghosts too long to remember how humans age or how age relates to development. This one TALKS like An Adult. Must be one. Probably just short.

And Damian? Never backs down. The second Dan starts challenging him? His character is flawless and his morals divine. He has never done anything wrong, ever, in his LIFE. Fuck you. And on TOP of that? He not only will be the SINGLE GREATEST FATHER TO EVER FATHER, his home is the most loving and beloved ON THE PLANET!

In entirety of EARTH'S history, no less!

....what are they arguing about?

*is handed a baby and kicked out of Dan's adoption agency*

See you in a few days!

(o.o ) *happy gurgling from the baby* *Damian.exe has stopped working*

Smash cut, after Damian speed runs his stages of grief at his own Dumbass Life Choices, to his rocking back up at the Manor like? Congratulations, Father. I have brought you your first grandson! Do Not ask how I obtained him. It was likely dubiously legal but I will not be returning him. We have bonded.

And just? Annihilating the collective Bats on one go. You did what? You have What?! That is a baby! WHY IS THERE A BABY?! How is there a baby!? WHOS BABY!? *sirens going off and everyone panicking*

Will Damian be allowed to KEEP the Baby? Ha! Hell no. Bruce will. Damian is a child. But it will be a Needlessly Dramatic Bat Cold War Of Dramatic Drama to pry that small cherubic baby from his grip long enough for Bruce to fill out the paperwork.

Child thieving bastard that he is. How dare he. That is Damian's SON! D:<

*happy oblivious baby noises as Alfred feeds him in the background, while the Bats do their Dramatic Custody War*

@hdgnj @babbling-babull @hypewinter @nerdpoe @lolottes @mutable-manifestation

[wonderjanga]

Marvel Physically Can’t not Smile

This is related to my Barely Human Marvel post from a while ago. In that post, Marvel is basically a being that looks human, acts like a human, but isn’t a human. (Of course, Billy is human, but his Captain Marvel form is basically a doll with flesh. I don’t think I even made him able to bleed) But, in this one, Marvel’s face is literally curved into a smile all the time because Billy’s last memories of his dad all consist of him smiling.

Imagine, Black Adam is beating his face in. He’s hitting the Champion as hard as he can, and they’re literally inside of a crater that was made from Teth hitting him so hard. He’s on top of Marvel and just hitting and hitting him over and over again, and during it all, he’s still smiling. The champions nose is bleeding, and one of his eyes is bloodshot. And yet, during all the punches he’s enduring he’s still smiling. He would be lying if he said it didn’t irritate him.

Then, there was Marvel’s first run in with the Joker. The clown had come after him after Billy met him while in Gotham.

//flashback//

Marvel: “Thanks, Batman. I don’t know how bad it would’ve been if that Joker guy got his hands on the Dream Stone.”

Batman: “Hn.” (Translation: Believe me when I say I know. Now shoo.)

Marvel: “Okay, okay. I’ll get out of your hair.” *hovers off the ground and is about to leave when he does a double take* “Is that a mecha?”

Joker: *inside of giant robot Joker, looking down at them*

Batman: *sighs* “Yes. It’s a mecha.” *pulls out grappling hook and makes his way up there*

Marvel: “Huh.” *watches him go before flying away to the rock*

//flashback end//

The Joker now has a bunch of people held hostage in a little cage that’ll be filled with Joker Venom. As of yet, the Clown Prince of Crime is having a bit of a hard time deciding whether he likes or hates the fact that Marvel is still smiling in the face of many people screaming and begging for help. He decides he likes it though when Marvel tells him that he’s simply smiling because his face was made that way. Now, the reason he likes it is because he finds that hilarious because of his random ahh Joker reasons. He even burst out into laughter when Marvel told him that. He laughed harder when he found out Marvel took care of the problem by inhaling all the gas from their canisters so it couldn’t be expelled anywhere. Though, he was a little bummed to find out the gas doesn’t affect Marvel.

Speaking of the Joker, we gotta talk about Batman. At first, he thought that the whole smiling thing was just apart of his character as Captain Marvel. Then, when he met Marvel he realized it wasn’t like a role he was playing, no, he actually smiles and is positive all the time. Then, he realized, oh wait, never mind, his face is just like that. His personality on the other hand was actually sunshine and rainbows though. After about half a year of knowing the Captain though, Bruce thinks he has a pretty good read on him.

Normal big smile (normally showing teeth) = happy go lucky normal Marvel.

Normal small smile (sometimes not showing not as many teeth) = only comes out when he’s tired but seeing as Marvel, and Bruce quotes, “can’t get tired” it’s extremely rare.

Small closed smile = could be still happy, could be upset, could be annoyed. Bruce has seen it’s more associated with negative emotions though.

Wobblyish smile = definitely upset in some sort of way. It looks like he’s trying to frown but he can’t. Bruce suspects that he could frown at some point but can’t anymore for whatever reasons.

Then, there’s the time Mary nearly died and he pulled her aside to scold her. The JL decided to spy just in case anything got physical. They were then greeted to Marvel yelling. Like actually yelling. They’d never seen Cap yell. And not only that, but he was crying. While smiling. And he has one of those little wobbly smiles too. So everyone knows he’s actually really upset at this. Mary yelled back saying how he wasn’t her father and how he shouldn’t act like it. He told her he wasn’t trying to be her father. In response, he was told to stop acting like it. This caused the man to sigh and soon after the two left.

The other JL members with kids were sympathetic, but the next day Marvel was back to being himself. (Mary and him made up afterwords)

[alyakthedorklord]

Bat Poker Face Training

Dick, Steph, Cass, Tim, and Jason all crammed into someones room, with a kidnapped Duke sitting awkwardly with them, kinda scared.

Duke: “Uh… what’s going on?”

Steph, completely blank faced and standing ominously in the corner: “It has come to our attention that you require training.”

Duke: “Bruce is already teaching me really well-“

Jason, also blank faced: “That’s bat training. This is robin training.”

Cass, carefully but without a single emotion: “Sibling training.”

Dick, face just as blank as all his other siblings: “It’s much more fun.”

Duke, freaked out by the empty faces: “Am I being hazed?”

Jason: “Eh, maybe. Scared?

Tim, not giving Duke a second to reply: “Yes, he is. It’s written all over his face. And while its okay to be scared, sometimes hiding your true emotions in the field is a matter of life, death, and secret identities.”

Dick: “You’re going to be flustered. Humiliated. Terrified. Angry. Relieved. Your vigilante ID dragged through the mud in front of you as a civilian. Someone worried about your civilian ID and you need to keep them away.“

Tim: “Not just as a Bat, but a Wayne. Some dinosaur at a gala is going to say the most out of pocket thing you’ve ever heard in your life and you’ve just got to stand there.”

Duke: “So that’s the reason you’re doing the creepy thing?”

Steph: “Yes Duke. You need to have a poker face that Even Superman can’t break. That even a Fifth-dimensional Imp can’t crack! And that is the purpose of our training tonight!”

Duke, getting the program now: “Okay. I’m ready.”

Jason, allowing a creepy grin to slide over his face: “Don’t be so sure. Because what we are about to show you… it has broken Batman.”

Dick: “Damian is too innocent to see it, which is why he isn’t here.”

Steph: “If you can handle this, you can handle anything.”

Tim, tapping on his computer, chanting under his breath: “the horrors, the horrors, the horrors…”

Duke, terrified of what Tim is about to pull up, on the edge of his seat wondering what on earth can shake the Bat of Gotham, what the family considers too awful for thier arguably LEAST innocent member to see, what vile images he’s about to be shown…

Tap. The screen lights up white.

Duke: “No.”

Jason, grin widening: “We’ll be reading this aloud, for your entertainment.”

Duke, trembling and inching towards the door: “No.”

Steph, vice grip on Duke’s arm: “There’s no escaping it, Signal. This is your mission- to stay completely pokerfaced through Real Person Fanfiction of us- the Batfamily. And co, of course.”

Duke, sobbing: “Please, why… why would you do this to yourselves… oh god, is that… is that… is that Kate with Bruce? She’s a lesbian! And his cousin!”

Steph: “They don’t know that, Duke. They know nothing. And the depths of a human imagination is comparable to the depths of the ocean… there’s some weird shit down there.”

Tim, without a single emotion on his face, least of all mercy: “I had to sit through Young Justice fawning over Dick and Bruce. Do you know what they said? About my own father figure? Right in front of my salad? I was lucky I was wearing a mask. I cried, and I cried in silence. They knew NOTHING, because I showed nothing. This is what you must achieve.”

Jason: “I’ve had to listen to criminals talk about what they’d do to the ‘Prince of Gotham’ and not twitch. I’ve had to listen to both goons and civilians play fuck marry kill with our vigilante identities and not move a muscle. I know this feels like overkill, but trust me, it’s not.”

Dick: “Don’t worry, we’ll keep it mostly PG. Tim? Begin with the wildly out of character and aggressively heteronormative Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman love triangle. Then maybe we’ll work our way up to slash readers and…” shudders in horror, “…batcest.”

Duke: “NOOOOOOOO!!!”

[i-yap]

MY FAVORITE IS DICK GRAYSON FORVER WILL BE DICK GRAYSON AND HERE IS WHY

DICK GRAYSON X Y/N ( FRUSTRATED ME EDITION)

- first of all , he is the hottest character in dc (literally the comics have written this line by line)

- he is the real one with communication issues. You think jason struggles with that? NO jason uses any chance to tell me people how much he suffered. But dick? He wears a smile, he hides everything he is feeling

- the only person who gets to see the real him is YOU. The stress, the pressure, the mommy daddy issues...cmon. and bruce prolly was the worst at raising grayson and learned from his mistakes for the rest

- dick is someone who tries to be happy. Who tries to have a normal life. Who tries not to let his issues affect him . But they do which is why he has so many fucked up relationships. But when he meets you he wants to keep you, he needs to keep you with him. So he tries yet again to open up, fix his issues, love you the way you truly deserve.

- AND let us all not pretend we are all not stressed asf in life. He is so joyful and bright and will almost never dull the mood. Car karaoke ? Done. Skinny dipping in some random lake you drive by? His suggestion. Amusement parks? He is excitedly pulling you to all the rides and WILL 100% WIN YOU THE BIGGEST TEDDY

- he is deep, he js in touch with his feelings and he knows how to take care of you. Idk abt u guys but I have issues . I want a man who gives you those words of affirmation, who makes it super obvious he likes you.

- he needs you just as much as jason or tim or damian do. He also never had genuine love, he also has been a soldier a leader the person responsible all his life. He needs yo hold you, he needs that peace and quiet away from everything he has to deal with . He wants someone he can come home to and just show how drained he is .

- he is so kind to the world but he WILL BURN IT FOR YOU . I refuse to believe any other opinion on this. No matter how big a hero this guy is...remember how he killed joker for jason? Someone he said he hated? Broke the no kill rule?? Yea imagine what he will do for you.

- and how dare u suggest he isn't jealous/ possessive. He gets so cranky..not insecure and u don't have to coddle him and avoid all other men ...but u do have to give him extra kisses

-HE IS THE REAL GREEN FLAG fuck the whole " a hero will sacrifice you for the world but a villain will burn the world for you" NOT HIM NO HE WILL KILL EVERYONE OKAY cuz how date anyone suggest taking you away from him after everything he has done for the world. You are his reward and you better remember that.

- slow waltzing in the kitchen while he sings you his favorite love song, giggling in a pretty cafe while sharing a piece of cake( he is feeding you the whole thing and will kiss you when u Ask why he isn't eating any himself) , getting tipsy and walking back home all sweet and drunk and in love. He is adventurous and wants to experience everything With you.

- best part, everyone around u will love him. I'm sorry but I like it when my bf is liked by the old ladies and my parents and my boss. He will make you the power couple, even if you aren't as "powerful". He is your biggest loudest supporter always. Always introducing you to ppl as if you cured world hunger , telling everyone just how smart and kind you are taking any opportunity to talk about You. And dancing with him at galas makes you feel like a princess

- he will get the best gifts, say the sweetest things, be the most supportive kind eyes only for you guy once he genuinely falls in love.

I love jason a lot too, and tim and bruce too. Like yes I daydream about all of them But I just hate how underrated my boy here is.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

This Is Halloween - Bruce Wayne X Female Reader (ft. Batfam)

Title: This Is Halloween

Bruce Wayne X Female Reader (ft. Batfam)

Additional Characters: Damian, Jason, Dick, Tim, Alfred (Mentioned), Wally (Mentioned), random old lady, children (Mentioned), and Talia (Mentioned)

WC: 3,958

Warnings: Can be imagined as any Bruce Wayne (I just chose Bale, cause I love him), very brief mention of violence, brief mention of death/killing, italics, teasing, banter, references, nicknames, Reader is called 'mom' 'ummi' and 'ma,' Reader is mentioned to wear a dress, very brief mention of blood, good ol' family fluff, and fluff fluff

Walking down the long candy aisle, you tossed bag after bag into your shopping cart. Tomorrow night was Halloween, and you needed to be well-prepared for the horde of trick-or-treaters that were going to stop by the Wayne Manor to try and snag some treats and full-sized candy bars. Everyone knew that Bruce Wayne and his wife were mighty generous, the latter more so - especially when it came to Halloween. 

It was your favorite holiday after all. 

But, you weren’t alone. Damian followed right beside you, quiet as always. He stayed close, never straying too far from the cart - despite you telling him that he could wander around the aisle if he was getting bored. 

Honestly, you didn’t know why he insisted on coming with you, knowing full well that you were getting Halloween candy. You hoped that he was just curious about the holiday, or he wanted to spend more time with you, but you didn’t really know when it came to Damian. 

Really, it looked like he was bored; there was a small frown on his face and everything. But, normally there was always a frown on his face… So…

Stuffing his hands in the front pockets of his pants, he turned to look up at you as you continued to smile, humming along to the Halloween song that was playing from the store’s speakers; throwing bag after bag into your cart. Which was growing pretty full at this point, and kind of heavy to push but you powered through. 

“What is the point of this holiday?” Damian suddenly spoke up, eyeing you as you paused, grabbing a giant bag of assorted Jolly Ranchers.

“Well,” You began, smiling down at your youngest son, “Do you want the original lore or what the holiday means nowadays?” You asked, and Damian pursed his lips.

“Both.”

Nodding, you continued on with your candy shopping, “Alright, well,” You worried on your bottom lip momentarily, “A long time ago, people believed that spirits could come back to the world on Halloween. So, they’d light big fires and dress up in costumes to scare them away.” You glanced down at him, seeing that his eyebrows were furrowed, “Over time, it just turned into this fun holiday where we dress up and go door-to-door for candy. Nothing really spooky about it now - just good fun.” You shrugged, unable to stop the big smile from forming on your face, “It can be spooky though if you watch scary movies, or go to some haunted house attraction or something. But those kind of end up being more fun than actually terrifying most of the time too.”

Damian turned his nose up, “Ummi, I don’t understand how any of that would be considered fun.” He huffed, rolling his eyes, “It’s childish.”

Pausing your cart, you looked back down at him with a small smile. You knew Damian never really had the chance to be a kid, to act like a kid, to go and experience all the fun things that kids usually experienced. He was born and raised to be an assassin. He never got to play, never got to imagine, or learn how to be a kid. 

When you came into Bruce’s life, and in turn, the kids’ lives two years ago, Damian was still such a young boy. He had no idea what being a kid was like. He didn’t know - but was beginning to understand - that the world offered more than just going out killing someone or beating someone up. 

“Well, it is a holiday where mostly children participate,” You reasoned, trying your best to hide your amusement as the look of disgust spread across his face at the thought, “I understand that you had not grown up with it, and I understand that it does seem very childish…” You trailed off before continuing, “But, I think… If you are willing this year… That you should at least give it a try.” You shrugged once more, making Damian look up at you with a small glare. “And if you don’t like it, then you don’t have to do it next year. If you do not wish.”

Damian’s brow furrowed further, his lips curling in disdain. “Why should I care for such ridiculous traditions?” He snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. “Parading around in costumes for candy? It’s beneath me.”

You bit back a smile at his reaction, the typical arrogance still so present despite how much he had grown since you first came into his life. “I know you think it’s pointless,” You said calmly, “But it’s not just about costumes and candy. It’s about taking a moment to step away from the seriousness of the world. It’s about fun.”

“Fun,” Damian repeated, his tone laced with sarcasm.

“Yes, fun,” You nodded. “And you’re still a kid, Damian. You deserve to have a little bit of that, too.” Seeing that he was staying silent, you continued, “If you will allow it, can I show you what Halloween is really all about?” You offered, keeping your voice calm, yet hopeful.

Damian held your gaze for a long moment, clearly considering the idea - you had half a mind to think that he was always curious about the holiday, especially since most of the family loved the holiday. Finally, he let out a sigh, followed by a small, reluctant nod, “Fine. But if this turns out to be as pointless as I think, you owe me.”

You smiled, nodding, knowing this was a big step for him - a step out of his comfort zone - “Deal. I think you’ll be surprised.” You placed the last candy bag into your cart, “Do you want to go to Spirit Halloween? We can find you a costume, and one for me, too. You can help me pick, if you like.” You began walking towards the checking counter, “Your father has decided to not participate in Halloween this year, which sucks because I already bought our costumes, but hey,” You shrugged, glancing down at Damian with a mischievous grin, “That just means that there is more candy for you, me, and your brothers.”

Damian’s mind whirred with determination upon hearing your words. This holiday was obviously very special to you, and you seemed disappointed that Bruce had decided to forgo Halloween this year. He pursed his lips, a plan slowly forming in his mind. 

~~~

Later that evening, Damian found himself standing outside of Bruce’s study, staring at the closed door. Raising his hand, he knocked briskly, “Father.”

“Come in,” Bruce replied, and Damian stepped inside. Bruce looked up from his desk, hunched over a stack of papers, “What is it, Damian?”

“Why are you not dressing up for Halloween with Ummi?” He cut straight to the point - like with most things.

Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I have a lot of paperwork to finish for Wayne Enterprises. It’s not that I don’t want to-”

“You always say that family comes first,” Damian interrupted, his eyes narrowing, “Isn’t this family time?”

Looking down at the paperwork on his desk, he hummed, Bruce paused, a flicker of amusement danced in his eyes. “Well, I guess I could finish this later.”

“You can,” Damian spoke curtly, “Good night, father.” He then left the study without another word, shutting the door behind him.

Bruce smiled to himself, staring at the door, “Good night, Damian.”

~~~

“Jayjay! I haven’t seen you in forever! You really need to come and visit me more often.” You exclaimed, hugging Jason tightly as he chuckled, hugging you back. 

Resting his head against your head, he let out a sigh, “I saw you last week, ma,” He spoke, already dressed in his costume, “I’m glad to see you though.” He admitted, stepping back to look around the main entrance, “Where is everyone?”

You waved your hand randomly in the air, “Somewhere. D arrived before you, and Tim before him since his college is nearby. And Dami might be in his room, probably changing into his costume.”

At that, Jason raised an eyebrow, “Damian is coming with us?” He asked, shocked, “Did you bribe him or something?”

“I convinced him,” You emphasized, grinning as Jason just rolled his eyes, his grin matching yours.

“Of course you did.” He murmured, shaking his head, “This is going to be a disaster.”

You huffed, giving him a short look but before you or Jason could say anything more, Dick rushed out from the hallway that led towards the kitchen; wearing his ‘The Flash’ costume. Something that he and Wally had come up with to do together for some party after trick-or-treating; Wally was going as Nightwing, and Dick was going as The Flash. You thought it was quite funny.

“Mom, Tim needs help or something.”

You raised an eyebrow, “He needs help?”

Dick nodded, “Yeah, he may or may not have tried to bake last-minute cookies. He made chocolate chip ones, and then somehow managed to burn them to the point that we could probably use them as hockey pucks in the winter.”

“Why didn’t you stop him?” Jason asked his brother, only for Dick to cross his arms.

“I was busy doing something else.” Jason’s face scrunched up into a look of disbelief at his words, but you just rolled your eyes.

Hearing a loud crash from the kitchen, you turned back to your two oldest boys. “I’ll be right back. And please be nice to each other, you two. Send your father this way if you see him!” You called out to them as you speeded towards the kitchen.

~~~

True to their word, about thirty minutes later, Bruce was sent to the kitchen, where he found you helping Tim with his burnt cookie disaster. Turning around, you froze, eyes wide for a split second before placing the burnt cookies on the counter and brushing off your cookie crumb hands. You were in shock, seeing Bruce all dressed up in his striking Hades costume that you had bought him two months prior.

He wore a long, flowing black velvet robe that cascaded down to his feet, with subtle purple accents. And, underneath, he had on a fitted black tunic that highlighted his strong build, paired with dark fitted pants. A belt with intricate silver detailing cinched his waist, featuring motifs of skulls.

On his head was a silver crown shaped like twisted branches, giving him a royal yet ominous presence. He even wore the blank strapped sandals you bought him. 

“Bruce…” You trailed off, your mouth agape as he left you speechless.

Bruce stood there a bit awkwardly for a moment before clearing his throat, “I believe you wanted to see me?” He asked, reminding you that you had been wanting to speak to him.

“Oh, yeah,” You swallowed thickly, “I… I was going to try and convince you to dress up… But it seems that you’ve already changed your mind.” You muttered, a bright smile growing on your face as you simply admired your husband at this point.

He adjusted the neckline of his costume, “Yeah, you should ask Damian about that.” He confessed, and your smile softened, your heart warming at his words. “I feel very awkward.”

“Dami convinced you?” You asked, and Bruce just gave you a small, knowing smile. You let out a sigh before freezing once more. Looking down at your Halloween-themed hoodie and sweats, you cringed. “Oh! I have to get dressed!” You stumbled over your own two feet, pressing a kiss to Tim’s temple, who had been trying to hide his snickers from the whole situation happening before him. Pausing beside Bruce, you leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek, “You look oh-so very handsome, my love.” You assured him lovingly, but quickly, and before he knew it, you had sped out of the kitchen, leaving him with a snickering, and very amused, Tim. But, your sweet words did help him somewhat.

“Did Damian really convince you?” He asked, and his father nodded as he crossed his arms. Shaking his head, Tim smirked, “You’re getting soft, old man.”

~~~

“I swear, if Damian takes any longer, we’re going to miss the entire trick-or-treating window,” Jason grumbled, dressed in his V costume from ‘V for Vendetta.’ He leaned against the banister of the main stairs, arms crossed, the mask's strap looped over his arm. “What’s he doing up there anyway? Practicing his scowls?”

Dick chuckled, “Maybe he’s trying to find the right shade of brooding to match his costume.”

“And what about you?” Jason shot back, rolling his eyes, “You’re going to run out of breath from all the speedster puns.”

Tim, dressed as The Doctor from ‘Doctor Who,’ glanced over his sonic screwdriver with a teasing smirk, “At least I’m not stuck wearing spandex.”

Bruce, in his Hades costume, tried to maintain some semblance of authority as he interjected, “Can we focus, please? I’d like to enjoy this night without all of you bickering.”

“Awe, c’mon, B! What’s a little banter among brothers?” Dick grinned, nudging Bruce playfully. “Besides, you’ve got a whole ‘dark lord of the underworld’ vibe going on. It suits you.”

Just then, at the sound of footsteps, all four of them turned their heads towards the top of the stairs; the banter ceased, and the air filled with a mixture of awe and shock. You descended down the stairs, your Persephone costume shimmering under the lights of the mansion. 

You wore a flowing, floor-length dress in soft shades of lavender and pastel pink. The fabric draped elegantly over your figure, with delicate layers that swayed gently as you moved. A fitted bodice showcased your silhouette, adorned with intricate floral embroidery that spiraled around the neckline, resembling blossoming vines. 

Your hair perfectly framed your face, and on the top of your head, was a crown of flowers - daisies, roses, and lilacs. The crown sat perfectly upon your head, exuding an ethereal charm. Your eyes sparkled with mischief and bright joy, making you look just like the Goddess of Spring and Queen of the Underworld. The sight left Bruce momentarily speechless as he admired the absolute beauty before him.

“Wow, mom,” Tim’s eyes were wide with surprise, “You look like you walked straight out of a myth.”

Jason huffed with faux annoyance, “Great, ma won Halloween again.”

Dick sighed, clapping Jason and Tim’s shoulders, “Yep, better luck next time.”

Your heart soared at their reactions, a wave of pure happiness washing over you. “Thank you, my boys.”

Bruce, however, remained quiet, his expression softening as he took you in. The corners of his lips twitching upward ever so slightly. “You look beautiful,” He finally said, his voice low and sincere. The pride in his eyes was unmistakable.

You let out a sigh, your own expression softening a bit, “Thank you, Bruce.” You walked over, adjusting his collar a bit, “And thank you for dressing up. It means the world to me.” You added, before leaning up to press your lips against his in a gentle kiss. As you pulled away, the sound of exaggerated groans filled the air.

Jason immediately made a face, scrunching up his nose in mock disgust. “Ew, not in front of me!” He exclaimed, dramatically turning his head away.

Dick laughed, shaking his head as he fanned his face dramatically. “I think I just lost my appetite for candy!”

Tim pretended to gag, leaning against the banister for support. “Can we please keep the PDA to a minimum? I still have to look at you two tonight.”

Bruce merely raised an eyebrow, a small, amused smirk tugging at his lips as he watched the chaos unfold. “You all are the ones making it a spectacle,” He replied, trying to maintain his composure.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the brothers' antics. “Alright, alright! Enough, or we’ll never get out the door,” You chuckled out, your cheeks slightly flushed. “Now, where is my Dami?”

Before anyone could answer, you heard a loud huff from the stairs. Looking up, you gasped silently, clasping your hands together at your chest. 

Damian stood at the top of the staircase, dressed in a classic Dracula costume. A long, black cape draped over his shoulders, its interior lined with deep crimson fabric. The cape was fastened at his throat with a striking brooch.

His attire beneath the cape featured a crisp white dress shirt, its collar dramatically high. A fitted, white vest, and tailored trousers completed the look, giving him an air of aristocracy that was unmistakably vampire. His dark hair was slicked back, highlighting his piercing green eyes.

Jason, leaning against the wall, couldn’t help but chuckle. “Look at you, Dracula! All dressed up and ready to suck the fun out of Halloween.” He teased, a mischievous grin plastered on his face.

Dick then chimed in, “I wish I had my camera. I didn’t know we were getting a special guest from Transylvania tonight!”

Tim, always the quick wit, added, “Just don’t let him get too close - he might actually try sucking our blood or something.”

Damian narrowed his eyes at Jason, Dick, and Tim, his expression darkening slightly, “Your pathetic attempts at humor are more laughable than your costumes. If you continue, I might just find a way to steal all of your candy that you get tonight.”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Bruce’s authoritative voice spoke up.

As the teasing subsided, you felt your eyes burn with happy tears. You made your way over to Damian, your heart swelling with appreciation for his efforts. Kneeling before him, you looked up at him with a smile. 

“Damian,” You spoke softly, “Thank you for dressing up. I promise that you’re going to have fun tonight, so don’t worry, okay?”

He looked at you, his expression softening just a fraction, “I suppose it is more bearable with you.” He replied, his tone still carrying that hint of stoicism.

“Just stick with me, and I promise you’ll enjoy every moment.”

~~~

The air was crisp and filled with the sweet scent of autumn as you, Bruce, Damian, Jason, Dick, and Tim strolled down the sidewalk of a beautifully decorated neighborhood in Gotham. Colorful lights adorned the houses, their yards filled with Halloween decorations; skeletons, blow-up decor, and those styrofoam tombstones. Groups of children scampered around, their laughter mingling with the rustling leaves.

Alfred, dressed in his usual Butler attire - though, he claimed that he was dressed as Wadsworth from the movie ‘Clue’ - was stationed in one of Bruce’s cars, waiting for the six of you to arrive back in the car to drive to the neighboring neighborhood; he wasn’t bored, he was probably playing Candy Crush on his phone or something.

Jason, ever the competitive spirit, dashed ahead with Tim and Dick, challenging each other to see who could reach the next house first. Speedrunning the trick-or-treating. While, you walked at a leisurely pace beside Bruce and Damian. 

Damian stuck close to you, his empty Halloween bucket that he begrudgingly picked out at Spirit Halloween in his hands. His gaze was mainly focused on the other children as they ran excitedly to their next house, Halloween buckets or pillowcases in hand. You noticed him observing their antics, his brow furrowed in contemplation as he stopped walking.

“You’ve got this, Damian,” You encouraged gently, “Just think about all the candy you’ll get.”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, uncertainty evident, “It seems trivial.” He muttered, but his eyes betrayed him, watching as a group of kids ran up to a house.

“Want me to show you?” You asked, “And then you can do it by yourself when you feel comfortable?” 

Bruce watched the interaction silently, seeing how patient you were with Damian. You were always so patient with his boys, but especially with Damian. You had always been this way, nurturing and supportive, a steady presence in his and his boys’ lives. He had so much love and gratitude for you. 

Damian hesitated but then looked up at you, “Fine.”

“Alright then, let’s go get some candy!” You said with a smile, leading him towards the house before you, Bruce stayed back on the sidewalk, watching with an adoring and approving smile. As you approached the door, you turned to Damian. “So, ring the doorbell, and when they open the door, you have to say ‘trick or treat.’ Then, they’ll put some candy in your bucket, and then you can say ‘thank you.’ Easy-peasy.”

Damian took in your words, nodding a short curt nod, before raising his hand to ring the doorbell. The door swung open shortly after, revealing an older woman. 

“Oh, hello, young man.” She smiled, “That’s a wonderful Dracula costume you’re wearing.”

You looked down at him, placing your hand on his shoulder for support as he brought out his bucket, “Trick-or-treat,” He stated, and the woman’s smile widened as she reached into her large bowl of candy; your youngest son watching as she dropped a good, mighty handful of candy into his bucket. “Thank you.” He added, almost too quickly, his shoulders relaxing a little more.

The woman chuckled softly, “Oh, you are very welcome! Happy Halloween!”

As the door shut, Damian turned to you, a hint of pride creeping up in his voice, “I did it.”

“I am very proud of you.” You exclaimed as you both walked back down to the sidewalk, where a very proud Bruce stood. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Rolling his eyes, though, the smallest of smiles tugged at the corners of his lips. “It was tolerable.” He replied, his typical Damian tone returning.

“Well, let’s get some more candy. Don’t want your brothers to outdo you.”

Damian straightened, “I won’t allow that.” He declared, and with a new vigor, he stepped confidently toward the next house; you and Bruce followed behind, watching as he started trick-or-treating on his own.

Bruce glanced down at you, a soft smile forming on his lips. “You really have a way of bringing out the best in him.”

“Damian just needed a little encouragement,” You replied, watching as he confidently approached the next house. “He’s got a good heart underneath that tough exterior.” You smirked lightly, “Just like his father.”

Bruce mimicked your smirk, huffing, his gaze focused on Damian as he rang the doorbell at the next house. “Thank you for always being there for him… For all the boys.” He said, sincerity clear in his voice. He wrapped his arm around your waist, drawing you closer to him.

“Of course, Bruce,” You leaned into him as you both walked down the sidewalk. Damian sped ahead towards the next house, giving Dick, Jason, and Tim a run for their money. “The boys - and Alfred, of course - mean the world to me, just as you do. I love you all so, so much.”

“They love you too. And I love you too.” He leaned down to mutter. You hummed, shutting your eyes briefly as you raised your hand, cupping Bruce’s cheek as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “So,” He sighed out, returning his attention to his children, “Do you think we should implement the parent’s candy tax this year?”

“Let’s figure that out when we get home.” You laughed out, envisioning the lighthearted chaos that awaited you. 

As you continued down the sidewalk, you watched Damian dart from house to house, his confidence growing with each ring of the doorbell, and knock on the door. He was gradually gaining on Jason, Dick, and Tim, who were playfully nudging each other out of the way as they grabbed candy from a bowl on someone’s porch.

This Halloween was going wonderfully, and you had a feeling there would be many more like it in the future.

---

Main Masterlist | DC Masterlist

[frownyalfred]

Do you think new league members ever get surprised by the built-in nepotism? Like Bruce being who he is like codified rules of hero title succession (like Dick taking Bruce's place as Batman and with it, all his founder status) or the Flash being a titled with a long history of being passed down. I mean, Bruce is even planning on Dick inherenting the league to become it's leader.

Do you think new members look at the member handbook, in the students, apprenticeship, partnerships, and sidekicks, and go "huh. That seems kinda... rigged??". Because honestly? If you're great, sure you can gain a lot of respect and power in the league but you'll never gain more power (from admin power to social power to beyond) then the founding members and founding membership can be inherited.

It's an interesting question. I can't speak to the canon responses very much, but I imagine it has a lot to do with people respecting the hell out of Dick Grayson/Nightwing and knowing he truly is the best leader to inherit Bruce's role. Batman's motivations in assigning that role to Dick isn't for some personal benefit, or a continued stake he wants to maintain in the League. He's not giving the position to Dick, essentially, to benefit himself or Dick -- he's giving it to Dick because he truly believes Dick is the best person to pick up the cowl after him. If he wasn't, I don't think we'd see Bruce handing off the League and Batman to someone who wasn't ready or wouldn't ever be ready.

I will also note that this 180 on nepotism is a very very new gen z phenomenon. I'm not saying I agree one way or another, so don't reblog saying frownyalfred says nepotism is okay. But also, we need to take a step back and realize that for a very long time in this country's history, nepotism, especially in "family" businesses, was damn near expected. Parents gave their kids their businesses when they wanted to retire. Dads hired their sons in their offices, etc etc. There were shades of nepotism, too -- giving a random son a title he didn't earn, versus hiring your accomplished son who just graduated top of his law school. It's not as clear cut as people online would like you to believe, that all nepotism is horrible, that all positions are unearned if they are given by family/friends, and that the worst thing in the world you could do is commit an act of nepotism and not, like, anything else more horrible. That's a tumblr/tiktok thing, which I feel I'm allowed to call out as a fellow member of gen z.

The Justice League isn't a business per se, but it is still something Bruce built and funds. So while we might see some mutterings about nepotism, yeah, I don't imagine anyone is going to get in Bruce's face and give him grief for giving his 1) highly qualified son a 2) position he trained for, for years that 3) Dick is ready to take when Bruce is done 4) in Bruce's own damn house (satellite).

Looking at hero succession through the lens of nepotism does the characters a disservice, I believe. We're applying a 2020's phenomenon (which is shedding important light on irl inequality and inequity, don't get me wrong) and ideas of "fairness" when the subjects are vigilantes and heroes.

And, disregarding everything I just said, the League itself does things by vote -- voting in Dick Grayson and having those checks/balances to Bruce's own goals is important, which is why he built them into the League itself. He can lobby the League, propose Dick, indicate his own preferences as a voting member, but if the entire Founders' table disagrees with him? His hands are kind of tied.

[blackbirdsblackberries]

"I hate the new hero" is such a brilliant fic idea! I absolutely devoured it. 

 

Especially if we throw in some angst into it. *evil laugh*

Like, what if the harassment was too much that it affected the reader’s other life?

What was at first a way for her to hide her superhero identity.. had now made her doubt her vigilante work?

 

I know the BatBoys won’t act as low to actually physically harass who they thought was a civilian student, no matter how much they hate it, but they’ll definitely make their life worse. Online harassment, endless accusations, fake rumours that caused the reader to be hated by the entire school. 

 

Until one day you had enough. As much as reader love Gotham, wanting to protect it. But you were only a student now.. a teenage with a future to strive for, a future Gotham Academy could no longer provide you. 

 

‘Are these people the ones I risk my life every night for..?’

‘What was the point..’

All kinds of self deprecating dark thoughts swirl inside the mind of the teenage girl. 

 

After some thought, you decided. 

 

“I’m leaving Gotham,” Aranea announces, sharp eyes looking down the streets of the city from the high rooftop. 

 

Red Robin almost lost his cool, a cold shudder went through him at the horrifying revelation. It was so sudden, why are you leaving? Leaving Gotham? Leaving them? Leaving him?

 

His brilliant mind moved at an almost inhuman speed, creating hundreds of possibilities for why you would come to that decision.

 

But he just doesn’t understand. “Why?” He finally let out, his voice so low he was worried you didn’t catch it. 

 

But you did. “I have my reasons.” You sigh, your brows furrowing in distress.

 

Oh, how Tim wished he could kiss your worries away. It kills him to see you so troubled.

 

“Why? Is something wrong?” He urged, his tone sounding desperate. “I swear if Red Hood did something—“

 

“No,” You shook your head, “Nothing’s wrong. At least not with you guys.”

 

“Then what is it?” He eyes you, trying to read you. “Is it your day life? Your life behind the mask?”

 

You didn’t answer, avoiding his gaze. You were too quiet, it was such a strange sight. Your eyes held a certain sadness, your smile gone. It’s killing him.  

 

Your silence gave him all the answers he needed. “Then tell me, tell me who you are. Let us help you.” He begs; he knows he’ll do anything you ask him to, and he knows his family would do the same. 

 

“You know we can’t do that.” You shook your head. 

 

Damn, this is getting too long. Haha.. I’ll stop. But yeah. It’s a brilliant idea. 

 

Imagine how crazy he’ll react if he knew that he was the cause of your worries. He was the one who hurt you. The angst will be delicious. 

STOP YOU'RE ACTUALLY READING MY MIND!!

Not to spoil too much but in future chapters Reader will start to doubt themselves and cracks will show.

Reader may also look elsewhere for places to save. After all, Gotham already has so many heroes, what's one gone?

But they can't let the optimistic sweetheart of a hero go now, can they? You know what they say, you can take the man out of the city but not the city out the man...

Who said that?! 😮‍💨

And for the third paragraph, I absolutely agree! They wouldn't stoop so low as to actually assault Reader. But that doesn't mean they can't misuse the power they have over Gotham (both in their vigilante life and real life).

Though if I were to say one name that I think would get slightly physical (passive aggressively) I would have to say Dick.

Dick is such an emotionally complex character. Damian has learnt from his past and knows better thanks to Bruce, Bruce wouldn't risk anything and would instead just verbally cause harm, Jason doesn't actually resort to violence a lot - he yells, he punches walls, etc but he has never actually hit someone without proper reason/justification, Tim is above violence while a civilian.

The way Dick would do it would be so casual though - a hug too tight, a handshake that "accidentally" breaks a finger, a hard "pat" on the back that makes you spit out whatever you're eating/drinking, small things that don't seem like much.

I also want to state that the Reader is very complex as well with how I write them. Their true personality is cautious, ambitious, kind, sarcastic, kinda cold and loyal but they either display one part too much or too little - kind, loyal and ambitious during hero work is up to 100 while cautious, sarcastic, cold is hidden at 30. Whereas while a civilian they show caution, coldness, sarcasm at 100 with loyalty, kindness and ambition down to 30-40.

I won't say much more though, again Reader is you guys so their "true" personality is up to you - this is just how they're perceived by people.

[dontbesoweirdkira]

AH DO I LOVE YOU RANTING

about the weaponized incompetence batsis, thing is what you said is true about them not really that insistent to force reader to the vigilante route because she DOES have a valid reason. Barbara? On a wheelchair. Jason? Tortured, dead, replaced, revived. Steph and Cass? Dead and revived. Happened too many times already to kids under Batman. If anything it's called self-preservation.

I think that honestly the being peeved and possible jealousy is also true. If reader were to be skilled than most YET refuses to join? Boy. Jealousy of her skills, peeved at her indifference.

I can see potential routes to this.

A) Reader still weaponizing her incompetence, while the Batfam has mixed feelings of jealousy, peeved, disappointment yet can't bring themselves to force her because she is right! Girly just wants to remain alive.

B) If reader is petty as fuck, going foul aka bringing up the deaths and failures of her siblings during an argument with batfam, telling him that he got blood on his hands.

C) Somehow ending up as a vigilante but again, a petty as fuck one. REFUSES to be associated with the batfam, even having a really different aesthetic and working separately. Either kill like Jason OR do everything bad minus killing to the enemy to spite Batman.

D) If she has an assassin mama, goes back to her mother's side of the family because she ain't dealing with Bruce.

Hello again! I'm happy you enjoyed the last post :)))

For an interesting plot, if you were to write it, i'd say go with the kids being upset/jealous with the reader thus thrusting her into the line of fights with them. They want her to be side by side with them. Patrol is not always about crime fighting because some nights nothing happens. It's a bonding moment. They rooftop hop and act silly, they want you there with them. They feel like you don't want to be there with them...it's hurtful. They bug Bruce about it to get him to force you into it but he allows you to choose. They might be pissed because they didn't really get a choice. You're going to be here with your siblings.

Maybe they don't fully understand your worry because all of them will obviously protect you. Especially the older ones in the group. You'll be fine. You don't get to be miss perfect, Bad things happen and you don't get to escape that out of fear.

I personally would say C option. Perfect example of weaponized incompetence . Jason would be loving you so much. Ya'll would be amazing together and everyone else is like...maybe don't be so brutal?? they'd try to split you up and explain what you are doing wrong. Doesn't work obvi and you are back to being a menace with Jay.

Bruce would intervene and maybe threaten you with going back to your moms. Or maybe he'd force you to stay back like you wanted...Who knows.

But B is my personal favorite because i live for Bruce slanderrrrrrr. Spit on him too just to add extra flavor.

All of these are good options though!! A lot for the imagination. Especially depending on how you view each character. You can get insanely dark with this if you want tooo.

[queenofallimagines]

Bruce Wayne x Fem reader

Shuffles in nervously 👉🏿👈🏿 hiii

A/N: listen,,, I’ve been writing fic fie the requests and then I was dragged kicking and screaming into Bruce Wayne’s arms. Nothing I love more than a tired depressed Dilf✨ got a lot more things sitting in the drafts because it’s SO good to do a character study on them and Damian is next I think he should have a cool stepmom. Bruce Wayne I can read your mind🗣️

Cw: ambiguous age but not explicable age gap so imagine what you will, the batfam are WEAK to black women but it’s pretty ambiguous in writing, fellow vigilante reader, Bruce is shit at feelings and can’t communicate, Fem reader, Bruce thinks with his dick before his trauma, his kids are nosey as fuck. oh and like mentions of aphrodisiac chemicals used but only once or twice.

Summary: Bruce could only internally groan at his predicament. He wasn’t to say he’s not sure how he got here but he knows exactly how he ended up here. He’s too grown for a one night stand.

Bruce Wayne:

"—told you they stayed the night!"

Bruce wakes to the muffled voices of giggling adolescents. Terrible timing. Dread settles into his gut as his bleary eyes snap open.

Bruce's biggest mistake was bringing you home. Blaming it on the chemicals he and his fellow vigilante crashed into last night would be convenient. But truthfully, both of you consented before those substances burned through your inhibitions, landing you in his king-sized bed, engaging in activities that his hyper-aware mind keeps replaying. Now is not the time to reminisce, not with the voices of his kids echoing outside. He swallows a groan. You'd think he trained all that boyish cheek right out of them, because that is not how one conducts reconnaissance. He'd do the shameful thing and sneak out, but alas, this grand manor belongs to Bruce.

….Maybe he can politely kick you out without incurring Alfred's wrath and enduring hours of lectures on dignity and respect—two things Bruce has little of at the moment. The scent of coffee and toast wafting in from the doorway indicates that Alfred set up a snack cart outside his door—a subtle reminder to behave. Bruce grimaces. Damned Englishmen and their inane concept of manners. Shifting on the bed, he keeps his eyes fixed on your head and not the bare expanse of your skin that he touched. A lot. He left—his dignity won't allow him to call them 'hickeys' because grown men don't do hickeys—various passion marks on your skin.

This time, Bruce can't quite stifle his groan. He's too old for a one-night stand.

"Christ," he grunts quietly, knowing divine intervention won't be coming.

No one said Bruce Wayne ever had a proper love life. Still, he'd take any endless rant from Gordon about Nightwing's countless motor vehicle violations over his children confronting him. At your groan, Bruce's tense shoulders relax slightly. Part of him expected you to be one of those people who woke up ready to take on the world—another reminder of Bruce's age. When you shift, his muscles tense again. Bruce clears his throat, voice gruff. "Morning," he rumbles, before he's tempted to do something less than honorable. The noise, followed by shifting sheets, pulls attention to you stirring. In the soft light, you look soft and relaxed in his bed, like you belong here.

He knows that's a dangerous thought to entertain.

Bruce says and does nothing as your eyes flutter open, blinking blearily and trying to piece together the circumstances of the previous night. He looks at you for a moment, contemplating whether he can get away with offering you money to keep quiet.

“Mmmmorning..”

That yawning stretch is both distracting and endearing. It's unfair. Bruce watches your movements, taking in every detail from the slight dip of your spine to the flutter of eyelashes. It's a sight he'd become intimately acquainted with.

"Sleep well?"

He asks, already knowing the answer. Even if you slept like a log, your body would be sore from being tangled in him all night.

“Mhm.”

If you weren't so drowsy, you'd notice his jaw clench at the sight of the sheets pooling around your hips, exposing your bare chest. Like most things, it's unfairly alluring to Bruce.

"You've got a choice of coffee or orange juice," he says, nodding at the cart a couple steps from the bed. His voice is still gruff.

“Orange juice please.”

Bruce rises from bed, unashamed at his own nakedness. He crosses to the cart, ignoring the faint twinge in his muscles, and pours you a glass of orange juice. A glance back reveals you sitting up against the pillows, wrapped in his sheets like a makeshift toga. He's never seen a more enticing sight in his life. Bruce ignores the impulse to push you back down and take you again.

"Here."

He returns to the bed and offers you the glass.

“Thanks.”

Bruce watches you drink. Another mistake. He can't help imagining how that mouth felt on other places, wrapped around and- Gods. Not the time. He should've given you a robe or something. Those sheets aren't hiding much and your sitting against the pillows has the fabric slipping lower and lower- He clears his throat, trying to rid his mind of dirty thoughts as he sips his coffee.

"You're welcome," he mutters. There's a satisfied, primal part of his soul that preens knowing that you're still in his bed, his sheets draped over you like a claim.

"Did you...have fun last night?"

He cringes almost immediately afterward. Bruce's pillow talk is abysmal.

“what…?”

The events slowly coming back to you, playing behind your eyelids like a movie. A noise of realization leaves your throat as you nod. Under usual circumstances you’d would be embarrassed beyond belief but after having slept so good and still being tired you can’t really find it to care

“oh yeah. I did. ‘t was ‘fuckin amazing.”

Bruce can't help it when his lips curve in response to your praise. You're still in his bed, still wrapped in his sheets, and now telling him he was amazing in bed—damn his ego for being so smug.

"Mm, I'm glad," he hums, taking another sip of coffee. He sets the cup on the bedside table and leans back against the pillows, eyeing you appreciatively.

"Are you... sore anywhere?"

“Nah, just all over.” Bruce can't help the satisfied smirk that crosses his face at your answer. Knowing he left you in a state of boneless bliss has that primal part of him preening again, like a pleased cat.

"Good," he murmurs, a hint of male pride in his voice as he gazes at you. "It... wasn't too much, was it?" Bruce swallows thickly, the urge to touch you growing. The kids are just outside the door. He shouldn't. He won't.

But maybe he can have just a little taste.

“It was, but in all the ways I like it so you’re good.”

Bruce can't stop the quiet groan that rumbles in his throat at your admission. You look a bit like a fallen angel, all debauched hair and sleepy eyes. The sight is almost too much for his self-control, more than you realized. He shifts subtly, adjusting himself under the sheets.

"I suppose that's a good thing, then."

He keeps his tone even, casual, but his gaze is hot and intense as he drinks you in. Bruce's gaze darkens at your answer. If it weren't for the kids and Alfred, he'd be on you in a heartbeat, pressing you into the bed, and leaving marks all over you that claim you as-- His jaw ticks at the possessive thoughts. No. Not the time. Later.

"Good," he repeats, voice gruff. Still, he makes no move to leave the bed. "You... don’t have anywhere to be?"

Bruce already knows the answer. It's a Saturday, after all.

“Aside from the mission last night my schedule is fully clear to my knowledge.”

Bruce nods in understanding, taking another sip of coffee. The image of your previous mission- that you both stumbled into- flashes in his mind: chemicals, a haze of lust, the taste of you on his lips. He pushes the memories aside as his gaze flicks to your exposed shoulder, then back to your face.

"So you can stay for breakfast," he says, keeping his voice steady even as he desperately fights the urge to pull the sheets off you and devour you. "Alfred is making pancakes."

“Mmm, I haven’t spoken to him in a while it will be nice to see his face again.”

Bruce's smile is a subtle, soft thing as you mention Alfred. The older man has served as a sort of parental figure in Bruce's life. Alfred and Bruce are like family, and hearing you mention his name sparks a warm sense of familiarity.

"He'll be happy to see you."

Bruce hesitates for a moment, a flicker of vulnerability in his gaze. "Do you... want to get up?" he asks, his meaning clear: ‘or do you want to stay in bed a bit longer?’

“….Not gunna lie I’d rather stay in bed a little longer. It’s so warm and comfortable the thought of getting up and putting on clothes sounds like torture.”

Bruce gives an almost imperceptible sigh of relief as you speak. Part of him expected you to get up the minute he mentioned getting dressed. But you don't. You didn’t. You want to stay in bed, and you have no idea how happy you just made him. With a smirk, Bruce reaches out, sliding his hand under the sheet, and grabs your hip, pulling you closer. He doesn't miss the way the fabric slides farther down your torso, revealing more tantalizing skin.

"You are very articulate in the morning."

“Mmm I’m like barely awake right now honestly. Less of a filter or any sort of shame.”

Bruce smirks at your admittance. You're clearly still half asleep, your guard down, and more unfiltered than he expected.

"You're normally more stoic, less open," he muses, tracing his fingers lightly over your hip. "I like it. It's refreshing."

His eyes take in every inch of skin visible to him, making a mental note of the various passion marks he left behind. It makes him want to see how far down they go.

“I’m more relaxed now. And in a hell of a good mood.”

Bruce chuckles, the sound deep and rich. His hand continues to explore your skin, mapping every curve and contour with gentle, yet possessive touches. His thumb brushes over a mark on your skin, and his gaze darkens a fraction.

"And whose fault is that?" he muses, his voice a low rumble, the sound more intimate without the Batman modulator.

“Yours obviously. Haven’t felt this sore in a while. didn’t know I needed an attitude adjustment that bad.”

Bruce's smirk spreads into a wolfish smile as you mention your soreness. A sense of pride swells in his chest. Knowing he made you feel so good last night that your entire body aches from it makes that possessive part of him purr.

Bruce's touch wanders to your thigh, his hand trailing higher and higher up your skin, his eyes fixed on yours as he speaks:

"I’d be happy to give you another one."

“Yeah? jeez going to tire me out before it’s even noon? Didn’t really expect that from you, B.”

Bruce’s expression is somewhere between a cocky smile and an affectionate smirk. It's almost like he's challenging you. The way you say his nickname in such a low, sultry tone is driving him insane. He continues stroking your skin, his fingers tracing a path up the inside of your thigh.

"If it gets you moaning and crying my name again," he murmurs, his voice dropping in register, "then I think it’s worth it. Besides..."

Bruce's other hand reaches out, his fingers gently grasping your chin as he looks you in the eye.

"You underestimate me.” he rumbles, his hand still stroking your thigh. "I have excellent stamina."

“Ooh wow just like that huh? Ready to go in the morning again? Can’t even enjoy the next morning soreness before you need to start all over again. I won’t be able to walk downstairs to breakfast if you’re that insatiable….Never expected you to be the frisky type. Aside from the sexual tension breaking in the air last night I never got that vibe from you.”

Bruce laughs lowly in response, his hand still tracing over your skin. The sound vibrates through his chest. When your hair falls into your eyes, he gently moves it out of your face. He watches you through half-lidded eyes, his gaze dark and intense. Your words make him smile, and he leans closer, his thumb brushing over your jaw.

"You're a tease," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. "You have no idea how much restraint it's taking me not to flip you over and show you just how frisky I can be..."

“Lord, don’t say that. My insides are getting flashbacks.”

Bruce’s laugh is sultry and almost sinister. Your words only feed his hunger. You’re right in front of him, skin bare and marked by his mouth, and still he can’t touch you the way he wants. The way he craves. He can’t give in. Not now. His lips brush over your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

"Mmm,” he purrs, nipping at your pulse point. "I can still taste you. All over my mouth. It's driving me feral."

“Jesus Christ B. You sure those weird chemicals we got hit with aren’t still in effect?.”

Bruce smirks against your neck, his teeth grazing over your pulse point. His hand continues to stroke your skin, his touch like a caress. His voice is low and rough with desire:

"I can promise you, it's all me."

He nips at your earlobe before pulling back, his gaze roaming over your marked body. He wants to add more. Leaving you marked, bruised, sore…

“With you talking like this, it’s a wonder we made it back here last night.”

Bruce releases a low, dark chuckle at your comment. The memory of last night, of stumbling into the manner, shedding clothes and tearing at each other’s skin, flashes in his mind. He doesn’t reply immediately, instead leaning down to press open-mouthed kisses up your neck. His voice is a warm, gruff whisper against your skin:

"It was a close thing, I won't lie."

“It still feels unreal almost, but you’ve got that same look in your eye you did last night. starving. I didn’t think my teasing would make you snap like that not gunna lie.”

Bruce hums against your skin, his lips trailing over your shoulder. The way you tease him is going to be the death of him. The sounds of your chuckles only add fuel to the fire. He can still feel the ghost of your nails digging into his skin, your moans echoing in his ears. He pulls back, eyes dark and glittering as he speaks.

"It took a lot of control, trust me," he says, his voice a low rumble. "If it were up to me, we never would have left that lab."

“Pfft, if it were up to you we’d never leave this bed.”

Bruce chuckles, his hand continuing to roam over your skin. The thought of spending hours, days, in bed with you is incredibly tempting, but he can't. The kids are right outside, and Alfred is waiting in the kitchen. Besides, he has work to do. He sighs, his thumb tracing a lazy circle on your thigh.

"I'd love to stay here forever," he admits, his voice low and rough, “But I'm afraid there are other responsibilities to attend to."

“There usually is-…. There are children behind that door.”

Bruce hears the hushed giggles and whispers on the other side of the door. He knows exactly what’s going on. He can feel the kids’ heartbeats through the wood, like a bat detecting its prey. They’re excited, curious. And they’ve likely been listening for the past hour despite him doing his best to keep his voice low to mask the conversation. Bruce sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly as he acknowledges the reality.

"Yes," he says, his voice dry. He glances at the door, then back to you. “There are kids behind that door.”

“I guess we have to get up then. Wonder if I can actually find all my clothes…”

Bruce’s lips twitch into a smirk at the thought of your clothes. His eyes trail over your naked form, taking in every tantalizing inch, then glance down to the floor. There is a trail of crumpled clothes leading to the bed. No doubt, you’ll have to walk through the minefield of evidence at some point if you want to get dressed. He sighs, sitting up in bed.

"Considering how fast we undressed, I’d say it’s going to be difficult.” He chuckles.

“Yeah I bet.”

Bruce’s eyes rake over your naked form, unabashedly appreciating the view as the sheets fall away. God, you’re beautiful. He has to force himself to look away before he snaps, ripping the sheets off the bed and pinning you back down. His voice is a gruff rumble as he responds.

"No fair," he mutters, reluctantly sitting up on the edge of the bed, his back to you as he tries to reign in his need to touch you all over again.

Chuckling you glance over your shoulder at him as you pick up your costume and start putting some pieces back on.

“Hey,don’t start pouting now. I agreed to stay for breakfast yeah? Can’t get rid of me that easily Bruce.”

His name rolls off your tongue teasingly. It had definitely been a surprise to find out Batman was Bruce Wayne last night but in the haze of trying to rip each others close off the surprise was lost. Even now looking at him like this you can’t help but see Batman and want to tease him. Saying his name felt forbidden in a way,making you want to say it more.

“Anyway, you should get dressed too.”

Bruce's shoulders tense slightly at the sound of his name falling from your lips. Hearing you say it is an odd juxtaposition. At this moment, sitting on his bed, he is Bruce Wayne, but the mention of his name has hints of Batman, Gotham, the mask. He glances over his shoulder at you as you get dressed. Bruce bristles at your teasing tone, his hands clenching into fists in his lap. The way you say his name in that sultry tone makes him want to throw everything aside and drag you back into that bed. But he doesn’t. He stays sitting on the edge of the bed, his back to you, his eyes fixed on the floor. He takes a deep breath before responding, his voice low and rough.

"Trust me, the last thing I want is to get rid of you.” he mutters, his jaw clenching. “I’m getting dressed.”

Bruce listens to the sound of clothing rustling, his back still to you. Part of him resents the fact that you’re getting dressed, leaving him here alone. He watches as you put on your clothes, covering up the marks he left on your skin. It sends a primal pulse of possessiveness through him. But he resists the urge to reach out and pull you back into his lap, or at the very least, make sure his mark is still clear on your neck. His jaw clenches as he speaks:

"I’m surprised they haven’t tried to barge in yet.”

“Hah! Even in a drug induced haze of lust I still remembered to lock the door. I wasn’t about to take that chance.”

Bruce huffs out a quiet laugh, a small smile on his lips. You’re as smart as you are beautiful. Locking the door was a wise decision. If you hadn’t, the kids would have been listening to a very different conversation for the past hour. He glances over his shoulder at you, taking in your now clothed form. It seems less appealing now that you’ve covered up the results of their night together.

"Impressive," he rumbles. You had the presence of mind to do that? While his brain was full of nothing but the smell and taste of you? He almost finds it adorable that you think you have such self-control. His lips twitch with a smirk, his voice a low rumble:

"You definitely have more control than I do."

“Once you have a situation happen like that once the anxiety never lets you forget. And doing it inconspicuously while not ruining the mood just was dumb luck on my part.”

Bruce snorts, a chuckle escaping his lips. You’re not wrong. One time was enough to learn that lesson. He knows that from experience. He should be grateful that you’re more reasonable than he is. It’s no wonder things with his previous conquests always ended the way they did. There’s a long, heavy silence as Bruce considers his next words. Instead Bruce sighs, standing up from the bed. He stretches his arms over his head, his bare chest on full display for you. He can feel the marks you left on his skin, stinging slightly in the air. He smirks at the memory of your nails raking down his back. He’s going to have a hard time keeping his hands off you in front of the kids, especially now that he’s had a taste of how good you feel. He groans quietly, running a hand through his messy hair.

“What’s up? I can tell you’re thinking thoughts with that look in your eye. Say whatever it is you’re thinking so hard about.”

Bruce notices your stare, the way your eyes drink in every inch of his exposed flesh. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes linger on his body, appreciating the view. His lips twitch into a smirk, a flash of possessiveness coursing through him. But he’s snapped out of his thoughts as you ask your question. He knows exactly what you’re asking. He looks at you, his gaze intense. He’s thinking of all the things he wants to do to you, all the ways he wants to touch you. But instead of saying any of that, he simply responds with a low hum. He should be grateful that you’re more reasonable and straightforward than he is. It’s no wonder things with his previous conquests always ended the way they did. There’s a long, heavy silence as Bruce considers his next words. He finally speaks, his voice a low rumble, his back still to you:

"You… You didn’t expect to see me again after this, did you?”

“Eh? I… don’t know what you mean?? We work together as vigilantes so it would be kinda stupid not to mention difficult to avoid you especially when you could find me anywhere I managed to hide in Gotham. You’re not exactly easy to run from. Even if it was some awkward tension i wouldn’t let that stop me from doing my job. I feel like that’s a dumbass question even for you B.”

Bruce clenches his jaw at your response. He knows you’re right. Working together as vigilantes would make it near impossible to avoid each other, especially in a city like Gotham. And even if you did manage to run, he’d find you. His eyes are narrowed as he looks at you, studying your nonchalant expression. He can’t tell if you’re being oblivious on purpose or if you’re just dense. His eyes searching your face for any hint of… something. What? He doesn’t know. But the way you answer his question with such plain honesty throws him for a loop. Usually, the women he sleeps with would want to forget about him. It was less messy that way. But here you are, talking about the work you do together like a conversation about the weather. Either way, his tone is a little sharper than he intends when he speaks.

“You’re not getting what I’m hinting at.”

“Please elaborate then because I didn’t understand that at all.”

Bruce huffs, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration. You’re being intentionally obtuse. It’s pissing him off, yet he can’t stop the surge of jealousy and possessiveness that he feels towards you. You’re still standing there, looking at him like you don’t understand what he’s saying. Part of him wants to grab you and push you against the wall, to make sure you understand his point clearly. But he doesn’t. You’re forcing him to be direct, to be open and explicit, and he doesn’t like feeling this vulnerable. He turns to face you fully, his arms crossing over his chest. His eyes are intense as he looks at you, his voice a low, tense rumble:

“You didn’t expect to still be speaking to me after tonight, at least not for anything other than work-related business. Right?” He lets out a long sigh, struggling to keep his voice even as he tries to make you understand.

He can just barely make out you tensing up in surprise for a second before shifting your weight to the other foot, expression not giving anything away.

‘You resist the urge to grit your teeth or give away any other actions on how you’re really feeling. It’s silent for a second before you exhaustedly roll your eyes.’

“Do we run into each other at all outside of work? I’m not changing my schedule.”

You’re internally sighing at the back of your mind. You’ve know better than to push against his typical self sabotaging nature. If he was going to push you away. You’d let him until he eventually comes back before the guilt of his actions eat him alive. You have seen him do it enough times to the people around him including the justice league and his kids. Mindful not to start an argument with his kids having their ears pressed up against the door probably trying their best to hear despite you both speaking lowly. You respond back in an equally sharp none keeping an air on nonchalance to mask the hurt.

Bruce clenches his jaw, a mix of frustration and jealousy coursing through him. You’re being infuriatingly stubborn, just like usual. He knows he should back down, let it go. But he can’t. Your words are like a barbed wire around his heart, tightening the more you speak. Your nonchalant attitude is irritating the hell out of him but also causing a wave of desire to shoot through him. How badly he wants to reach out and press you against the wall, to make you understand. But he doesn’t. Is it this annoying for others when he close’s himself off?

“No. You’re right, we don’t-“

“So then that answers your question. Wow you sure do overcomplicate everything.”

Your response only pisses him off more. He wants to grab you and shake you, to make you understand the point he’s trying to make. Yet, a part of him is surprised, impressed, and amused by your stubbornness. It’s just like you to take everything he says literally and not get the hint. His eyes narrow, a hint of annoyance and humor in his tone:

“You’re being deliberately obtuse. Don’t play dumb. It’s not a good look.”

“Boy, If you don’t speak plainly and make your point already.”

Bruce scowls back at you, not backing down from your glare. A part of him wants to back down, to avoid a fight. But the more stubborn part of him, the part that wants you to understand, won’t budge. He lets out an annoyed huff, his voice low and intense:

“I meant that, after tonight, I wouldn’t expect to see you again - on a personal level. As in-” He hesitates, struggling to find the right words. “Not just for ‘work related business.’ ”

“Wait you- Jesus Christ you are needlessly confusing and it’s so aggravating. That wasn’t my intentions at all. Like not even a little bit. At what point did you come to this conclusion in your own brain if I never said anything like that? I know your ass can’t read minds so who gave you this information? Because it’s wrong.”

Bruce scowls, his irritation peaking, his body tensing under your glare. His eyes narrow, the sharp edges of his jaw clenching. He’s annoyed by your stubbornness, by your inability to see what he’s trying to say. Your frustration makes his heart ache and his irritation flare. But your question catches him off guard. He doesn’t think before he speaks.

“No one had to give me that information. It’s just logical. How many of your one night stands do you see again afterwards?”

“Do you think you’re the same as them?? because this is a vastly different situation if you haven’t noticed.”

Bruce’s eyes narrow further at your response, his irritation growing. Part of him knows you’re right, that this situation is different. But his doubts and insecurities are flaring up, causing him to be more defensive and closed off than usual.

“It’s still a one-night stand, isn’t it? They usually end up not talking afterwards for a reason.”

“Bruce. This isn’t a regular one night stand. You’re jumping to hella conclusions, because I’m already thinking of the next time I can wake up in your bed.”

Bruce freezes, his body tensing at your words. He’s caught off guard by your bluntness, but also secretly pleased, excited even. He can feel something stirring in his stomach at the thought of you wanting to be in his bed again. He tries to hide it with a scowl, to keep himself under control. But your statement makes him want to grab you, to feel your body against his again. He doesn’t want you to see how much he’s affected by your words, so he grunts gruffly:

“Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Aawww, don’t go shutting me out now! We just had a lovely night together followed by a soft morning after. Don’t start getting scared of being vulnerable now. I’ve already seen every inch of you nothing left to hide from me, love.”

Bruce huffs in irritation, his scowl deepening. He knows you’re right - you’ve already seen him in his most vulnerable state. His body, his scars, the pain and pleasure he’s felt in your arms. But he can’t shake off the feeling of vulnerability, of baring his soul to you. It’s not something he does lightly.

“I’m not scared, I’m being practical. It’s not healthy to get emotionally attached.”

“Ugh and here you go with that again. Humans aren’t meant to just go through life alone superhero or otherwise. It’s okay to admit you care about people. And too bad I’ve already gotten attached. After my attitude adjustment I’m going to be in the most pleasant mood for the next 5 business days.”

Bruce glares at you, his irritation growing with your nonchalant attitude. He’s frustrated by your stubbornness, your damnable optimism. He wants to push back, to make you understand the danger of getting attached. But your words cause his heart to skip a beat, his chest tighten with emotion. He clenches his jaw, struggling to keep himself in control.

“This isn’t a joke. Relationships don’t work for me. I can’t afford the risk-“

“Blah blah blah. Yeah, I know and I’m not letting your paranoia self sabotage yet again. Go ‘head and schedule me in for 11:30 on Tuesday by the way. You can’t escape me or my affections, not that I was stingy in giving it to you anyway.”

Bruce lets out a frustrated huff, his scowl deepening at your dismissive wave. How easily you just brush off his concerns, ignore his past experiences. He doesn’t want to admit how much he’s tempted to give in to you. To hold you against him, to taste your skin again, to feel your body writhing under his touch.

“It’s not paranoia, it’s experience. It’s logic, practicality. The city need-.”

“The city needs you to get laid. You think people wouldn’t immediately vouch for Batman to get his dick wet?? Like why jinx it? You and your annoyingly exhausting self sabotage destructive tendencies are truly tiring for everyone around you to constantly be the victim of. And then you feel guilt which makes you repeat the cycle all over again. You deserve to be happy too?? Not sure anyone’s told you that before.”

Bruce’s irritation turns to frustration as you list off his flaws. As if he’s not fully aware of his own issues, as if he doesn’t hate himself for them. As if it’s a choice. He clenches his jaw, his body tensing further as you continue your lecture.

“You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know I’m the one that causes problems, that hurts people? You think I’m not living with the guilt every goddamn day?”

“Yeah and it’s making you go through this exhausting cycle. Allow me to at the very least snap you out of that for a while. Normalcy would be good for you….Also me and Alfred have been talking about you needing it for ages now-“

Bruce’s irritation immediately turns to surprise and embarrassment as you mention Alfred. Of course Alfred would be behind this. He can’t help but wonder what you’ve been saying to him and what you’ve been scheming. The thought of you two talking about his personal life causes his heart to skip.

He scowls, his voice frustrated, defensive, and mildly defensive as he crosses his arms over his chest:

“What exactly do you two talk about?”

“You and your shenanigans.”

Bruce lets out a huff, his irritation growing once more. It’s bad enough that you’re pushing his boundaries and questioning his decisions. But the fact you’ve been talking to Alfred about it, that you’re both ganging up on him behind his back, makes him feel outnumbered, vulnerable.

He glares at you, a mix of frustration and vulnerability evident in his voice:

“I do not have ‘shenanigans’.”

“Yes the hell you do. Also do you like dark blue? Or black better?”

Bruce’s scowl deepens at your persistence. He doesn’t like being ganged up on, and now you’re talking about colors? He looks at you, slightly bemused, still frustrated but also curious.

“What does it matter to you what color I prefer? How did that even come up in conversation?”

“Because I’m thinking of what to wear for Tuesday. So what color?”

Bruce’s irritation eases slightly at your question. He’s momentarily thrown off guard by the realization that you’re already planning for the next time you see each other. He looks you up and down, taking in your appearance, his gaze lingering on your curves longer than it should.

“Black.” he grunts out, trying to hide the hint of desire in his voice.

“Got it.”

Bruce swallows, his gaze not leaving your body. He notices the way your curves fit your clothes, the way your muscles move under your skin. He can barely restrain himself from wanting to reach out, pull you close, and feel your body pressed against his again. His voice is low, a hint of desire in it as he speaks:

“Why are you even asking me about colors?”

“Because. I want to wear nice lingerie under my clothes so I figured I’d ask what color before I go choose an outfit myself.”

Bruce’s heart skips a beat, his body tensing at your words. The image of you in black lace under your clothes is almost too much for him to handle. He swallows, trying to keep his composure but almost failing.

He scowls, trying to hold on to his stubborn resistance, his voice gruff and strained:“Why do you care what I think?”

“Huh? Because if I��m going to show up to get fucked stupid I want to at the very least look nice.”

Bruce lets out a huff of frustration, his annoyance returning in full force. He can practically hear the eye roll in your voice. How are you so damn confident and stubborn at the same time? It drives him crazy.

“You always look nice. You don’t need to wear fancy lingerie or anything for me.”

“Yes, but I rarely have a reason to wear them so let me have this and just enjoy it when you see it. And thank you.”

Bruce rolls his eyes, still trying to resist giving in to you. But the image of you in black lace is still stuck in his mind. It’s making it increasingly more difficult to not act on his desire for you.

“Fine. I’ll look forward to it. But don’t get too cocky just because one night together went well.”

“I’m confident the next night will be equally if not more electrifying.”

Bruce lets out a huff, his irritation fading once more. Your confidence and stubbornness are exhausting, but he can’t deny they’re also endearing. He’s starting to question his own resistance to this situation.

“Cocky, aren’t you?” he grumbles softly. His heart is beating too fast for comfort, his thoughts swirling with images of you, bare and writhing under him in lace.

“Absolutely. If you think I can’t feel your eyes burning a hole through clothes from here you’re dead wrong.”

Bruce doesn’t answer immediately. He’s caught, guilty as charged. His gaze has indeed been roaming over your body, taking in every curve, every muscle. He can’t deny he wants you again, badly. Your confidence just makes him want you even more, and it’s driving him crazy. He scowls, pretending to look away as if he wasn’t just mentally stripping you with his eyes.

“Shut up.”

“mhm, let’s go get breakfast. I’m actually hungry now and teasing children will not deter my stomach.”

Bruce grunts, still a little flustered and frustrated with your confidence and stubbornness. But he admits that he’s a little hungry too.

“Fine. We can go to the kitchen. The brats will be there and we’ll have to deal with their stupid comments.”

He stands and starts heading out of his room, with you following behind him.

“And quit calling them children. They’re like 18-26 years olds.”

“And yet they were outside the door giggling and whispering like 7 year olds.”

Yeah, this will be a long morning indeed..

This was the cute version. The other versions is longer and Bruce fucks you like a man possessed😔✊🏿 wasn’t sure if I should post that one or this so here’s a little snippet of that:

“Mkay…. next time leave it in when we go to sleep. Feels ‘snicer that way.”

Jesus Christ-.

Bruce's breath hitches, a low growl slipping past his lips before he can stop it. He forces himself to focus on your sleepy glance, watching you nuzzle into his chest like a content puppy.

He shifts his body, trapping your hips with one muscled thigh, his grip on your hip tightening.

His voice is roughened, filled with desire.

"That an invitation, sweetheart?"

“mhm. You can do it even when I’m asleep I trust you.”

Christ, you're going to be the death of him.

Your sleepy admission to trust him makes his chest ache, a pang of something he refuses to acknowledge hitting him right there. You sound like you mean it, too. Bruce lets a low, strangled moan slip, nuzzling your hair and wrapping his free arm around your middle.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, his hand going even lower, possessive and greedy.

"Can I, right now?"

“Yeah.”

God.

He’s going to start calling you a vixen instead of sweetheart, with those bold little words. Every breath of yours against him feels like a flame to the gunpowder that’s his body. He lets out a hoarse sound, part of him still in disbelief that this is happening.

“You drive me insane,” he grumbles, his low voice filled with unbridled desire. But even after everything, even after a night of letting instincts take over, a night of being completely open and vulnerable with someone, Bruce hesitates.

He needs for you to be sure, for you to want this, even if you’re only half awake.

He keeps his hand on your hip, his other hand gently tilting your chin up so he can look at you, his eyes meeting yours.

“Tell me you want this, sweetheart. Tell me you want me.”

“Bruce if you don’t fill me up and stop waking me up from sleeping I’m going to be real irritated.”

His breath hitches. Hard.

Bruce grits his teeth as he growls, feeling the last of his self-control drain away. He can’t hold in his possessive desire anymore, not with you looking up at him, needy for him.

He’s not a good man, he might even be a bad man. But you look at him like he’s your everything, and it drives him over the edge. His grip on your hip tightens, his breath hot against your ear.

“Can’t have you irritated, sweetheart.”

His voice is deep, roughened, the sound of it sending shivers down your spine.

He grabs your leg, slinging it further up against his body. His eyes are dark, nearly feral as he kisses right below your ear, his teeth nipping your skin. His voice is deep, roughened, the sound of it sending shivers down your spine.

“I’m gonna take care of you, sweetheart. Gonna make sure you feel good.”

He tightens his grip on your hip, his other hand tilting your chin up. His lips brush your ear as he growls between ragged breaths,

“Close your eyes, sweetheart. I’ll make you feel good .”

“Bruce’s heart clenches at your sleepy little nod. How did he end up here, this morning, in bed with you, feeling more real than he has in years? He doesn’t know, but he’s not going to question it.

He tightens his grip on your hip, his other hand tilting your chin up. His lips brush your ear as he growls between ragged breaths, “Close your eyes, sweetheart. I’ll make you feel good.”

Your surrender, even in your sleepy state, makes his chest tight. He can’t remember the last time he’s felt this wanted.

He presses his lips against your skin, leaving a trail of kisses across your jaw, your neck, your collarbone.

“Good girl. Stay just like that.”

His hands glide and roam across your body, touching and caressing you, wanting to re-familiarize himself with the curves of every inch of you. He’s possessive, a bit rough, even. He needs to remember every inch. He needs to touch you, to make sure you’re real and not a mere dream that’ll disappear the moment he wakes up. His mouth never strays far from your skin, as if starved for the taste of you. He’s almost feverish in his desire, his hands and mouth working to find every sensitive spot that makes your breath hitch and your body arch. He’s hungry, needy, desperate to keep you in his arms, to make everything else fade away besides the feeling of your skin against his.

Feeling a familiar ache in his core he sucks more bruises into your skin. keeping your leg resting where it is he shudders as he reaches down to press into you. an unholy sound crawls out of his throat as his entire body shudders. it feels like his entire body is engulfed in flames and he doesn’t mind burning up. Biting down on his lip hard as he feels you react in your sleep, he distracts himself with kissing your scalp and holding you close. He can’t comprehend how you’re so cute and So sinful hair a mess on his pillows and you dead asleep.

His teeth leave dark marks on your skin, claiming you as his. His fingers dig into your hip, holding you close, anchoring himself to you as the fire burns hot between his legs. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears, the sound of your name on his lips like a prayer.

“I can’t… I need…” He doesn’t even finish his sentence. He just moans, low and guttural, his breathing ragged and rough. His teeth leave dark marks on your skin, claiming you as his. His fingers dig into your hip, holding you close, anchoring himself to you as the fire burns hot between his legs. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears, the sound of your name on his lips like a prayer.

“You’re so good, sweetheart. So perfect. So goddamn mine, whether you realise it or not.”

He nuzzles your hair, his eyes closed as he relishes the feeling of your warmth against him. He nuzzles your hair, his eyes closed as he relishes the feeling of your warmth against him.

[bia-wayne-west]

Mom has a tattoo [Tim Drake x Batmom]

Synopsis: Tim Drake discovers that his mother, Batmom, got a tattoo without anyone knowing.

Characters: Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne and Reader[You]

A/N: I wrote this in a few minutes, I hope it’s good. I made this imagine inspired by the fantastic imagine of @ellana-ravenwood. I hope that you who are reading have fun and enjoy what I wrote. Apologies for bad grammar

Requests are open

MASTERLIST

It was a surprise for your baby Tim. When he saw the birds drawn on his skin, Tim was by tour side when he noticed.

It all happened when you decided to watch a new TV show on Netflix. First, you made sure all your children, your husband, and Alfred were busy somewhere. Whenever you sit on the big sofa in the living room, one of your babies runs to sit next to you, demanding all your love and attention.

But this time you got confused and forgot to check if Timothy had his eyes on the video game. You were wearing a sleeveless t’shirt and old leggings. Your feet were covered in socks you stole from Bruce's closet.

You were watching the TV show's protagonist lie to her boyfriend. You felt like you were being watched and noticed your third child standing at the entrance to the room with a box of chocolates in his hand. You smiled at Timothy and patted the couch next to him. The boy ran with the candy in his hands, throwing himself next to you with a huge smile on his face.

“I was going down to the Batcave when I noticed you were watching Netflix alone. I came to keep you company, mom.”

“Oh my baby. Thank you for staying here with me.”

When you leaned over to pick up a bag of jelly beans, your hair fell to the side and tour shoulder was exposed. Timothy let out an exclamation of surprise when he saw that you had four birds tattooed on your shoulder. When you returned to your normal position, you noticed your baby looking at you with surprised eyes.

“DO YOU HAVE A TATTOO?” He shouted, pursing his lips.

You laughed and rolled down your shirt sleeve so the boy could see your tattoo in full.

“I did this a month ago. It has a meaning. I have four chicks and I made four birds to have my beautiful chicks with me until the end.”

“ Ah, it’s a beautiful meaning. But I would never have imagined that my mother would get a tattoo. Tattooing is something for young people.”

“Oh my god, Timothy, this really offended me.” You said, placing your hand on your chest while laughing. “ I want to have you with me even when I'm in a coffin and now I have you marked on my skin.”

“We will always be with you, mom. I love you and my brothers too.”

He hugged you tightly, smiling. You smiled back, thinking about the fact that Timothy rarely called Dick, Jason, and Damian brothers. It was unique to see that he really cared about his family.

“I love you, my little bird.”

Your lips kissed Tim's warm forehead. His head touched your shoulder and the two of you continued watching the TV show.

“Mom, when I'm sixteen, can you convince Dick and Jason to get a family tattoo? Like birds or a bat?”

“Of course, my dear. We can also include Bruce and Alfred and of course Damian when he's older."

[emptyultimatum]

GOOD GIRL

Avenger Loki x gender neutral!reader In which Loki changes things up a little

~ SMUT!! [ fingering, praise, light breast play, light oral, references to vaginal s3x ]

~ TW!! [ character injury but mild ]

I meant it as a joke, you thought to yourself, half ruefully, half gleefully. But as the quivering, spread legs before you revealed a dripping, fluttering cunt, you could hardly call your thoughts regret. 

It all started with the mission. Twenty-four escaped convicts, an easy night out for the Avengers. Technically, it was below Avenger status (not exactly world-saving, after all), but Tony was trying to make a good impression on the U.S. government, so the superhuman heroes spent a lot of time running errands for the White House. You and Peter were on it, an easy fix. Honestly, either one of you could’ve done it alone. 

You went left, Spider-Man went right. There were supposed to be an even split, but the numbers changed too quickly to communicate. You soared over the frigid treetops, angel wings beating the air, when a harpoon speared through your feathers. You crashed to the ground, keening with pain. 

Six criminals got away. Peter handled the other eighteen, but the damage was done. They sent Vision after the last six and helicoptered the two of them back to Stark Towers. 

Loki, as one can imagine, was distraught. 

“What happened? Parker, who did this to her? She needs medical assistance—”

“What do you think I’m trying to do, Curlicues?” Tony Stark gestured to the corner with his chin. “Go over there and sit like a good girl.”

An unfamiliarly dangerous spark lit Loki’s features. You cocked your head curiously through the pain, but Tony blew him a kiss. Loki hissed through his teeth, but backed off, letting Tony scan your gaping wound.

“You know, I always wondered if these things were illusions,” Tony mused, tapping on his holographic screens. “They appear out of nowhere, it doesn’t make sense, unless—” 

“Pocket dimension,” you gritted, as Bruce Banner and Tony snapped their fingers in unison. 

“That does make sense,” Bruce said brightly.

A red syringe-shaped arm popped out of the side of the medical bed. It blasted freezing nanoparticles over the gash in your wing, then retracted. Enhanced healing patches were placed over the bruises and road rash along your arm and thighs, and Tony gave you a jar of skin-repair salve for later. A few adrenaline injections to the arm later, and you were feeling much better. 

“Can I see my boyfriend now? He might tear a hole through all nine realms if you don’t let him check on me,” you rolled your eyes, beckoning Loki over. 

He pushed past Tony, elbowing him out of the way. “Darling, are you okay?”

“You’re welcome,” Stark said. “No problem. I’ll just go over here and lick my ass, I guess.”

“Yes, do that,” Loki muttered. Tony winked at him, deadpan. 

“I’m much better,” you reassured him, flexing the wing and drawing his attention. “I heal quickly, remember? The worst was the pain, but it won’t linger.” 

“Good. Then let’s get to your bed. You need rest.” Loki scooped you up. The world wavered in a flash of green, blinding and strong, and suddenly they were back in their old, cozy room. A sweater lay, forgotten, on a chair. A few snack wrappers and… other kinds of wrappers lay scattered about the floor. 

“Oh it’s a mess,” you smacked your forehead. “Good thing they healed me in the med bay and not here.” 

“I’ll clean it up, don’t worry,” he assured you, his eyes sincere. “Just take it easy, dearest.” 

“What’s got you all worried, Lo?” you laughed, cupping his cheek. “I’m fine. I’ve been hurt worse before.” 

“Yes, but that was before we were together. Additionally, I fear I’m facing some… insecurity, as it were.” He glanced away, cheeks pinking. 

“Insecurity? About what?” 

“I- nothing. It’s no matter. We shall discuss later,” he brushed you off, standing. “Please, let me clean for you.” 

You grinned up at him. “If you say so. Thanks for cleaning for me, Loki. You’re such a good girl.” 

You put a growl on it, a low, sultry purr. The tone of voice you usually said good boy or beg for me in. You meant it as a joke, a demeaning one, a call back to Tony’s patronizing snub. 

Instead, you saw something liquify in Loki’s eyes. That same look he got when his cock was in your hands, or your teeth were sinking into his skin. 

And being yourself, you capitalized on it. 

“Do you like that?” you cooed, arching an eyebrow. “Do you want to be my pretty girl, Loki? My good little obedient princess?”

Oh, you had him cornered. His bottom lip trembled with thinly held control, his eyes darting back and forth, warring with himself. 

You reached up, pulling him back down, so that he kneeled before her. You locked his gaze with her own. 

“If you want to be my good girl,” you said gently, “You can.”

Loki shuddered, and slowly, his shoulders began to slough down and round off. His frame turned slighter, more slender, and his chest swelled. He was daintier, but still with the shoulder-length choppy hair and wild silver eyes. He was no he at all. She was Loki. A tall, wiry, masc Loki, with a dripping mess between her legs. 

Loki whimpered as you laughed aloud, running your hands through that silky black hair. “Oh, you pretty girl, so many tricks up your sleeve! Why don’t you strip for me, so we can see what pretty trick you have up your pants.”

You had never seen Loki undress so quickly. 

And so, here you were, Loki breathless and growling beneath you, your fingers sliding into Loki’s slippery, throbbing mess. You curled your fingers acutely, and Loki bucked up into your hand. 

“Naughty,” you cooed. “Bad girls don’t get to cum. Stay still.”

“Please, love,” Loki begged, her cheeks flushed red. “Please let me cum.” 

“Behave,” you scolded. “And maybe I’ll consider it.” 

Loki let out the prettiest keening sound you’d ever heard. You giggled, leaning forward, wrapping your lips around Loki’s pulsating clit. You sucked, hard, and she moaned again, her legs clamping around your head.

“Is this the insecurity you were dealing with, pet?” you asked, stroking the pad of your thumb over Loki’s sensitive, aching clit. “Were you lost?” 

She nodded, eyes screwed shut with pleasure and humiliation. “I wasn’t sure how you’d —fuck— react.” 

You smiled, running your hand flat up her belly, cupping a tender breast, and squeezing. “Pretty girl. I’d never want you to be anything less than yourself.” 

Her eyes opened, beautiful and silver as always. Loki smiled up at you, holding your hand over her breast. “Sweet love,” she murmured. 

“Besides,” you gave her a sharklike smile. “Now I get to fuck you. Spread your legs.” 

With a whimper, she complied. 

[fancyfade]

Objectively correct list on which Batfam members would swear

Bruce: no clue if he swears canonically or not outside of miller's all star b&r, but he should not. Look I am very opinionated on this. I do not think Bruce swears. Bruce values control over his own mind so much you know he would not want to do things that would make him look as if he is not in control of himself, even when he is not in control of himself. However, I do imagine that teenage bruce swore, as when Damian cusses Alfred out Alfred is like "Ah, memories" or something. Bruce was an angry teenager.

Damian: Canonically swears and would swear. him meeting the batfam by cussing out alfred is iconic i will not hear a word against it. he can be mean to people without swearing, too, of course. he just has a lot of tools in his arsenal.

babs: look, does Barbara canonically gamer-rage? Not really*. but she deserves it let her swear in anger when people are doing stupid stuff.

dick: I don't think dick is opposed to swearing on principal, but I don't think we have a lot of panels of him doing it in proportion to how long he has been in comics and not done it. I imagine it being more of in the "What the fuck" instances like when something weird or unexpected happens (and only when he's an adult or teenager, b/c as younger robin he was doing the 60s exclamations or whatever that everyone did)

stephanie brown: like dick I don't imagine her being opposed to swearing but I don't see her doing it a ton. I see her doing it more often in anger, since she's got quite a lot of anger locked up pre-Batgirl 2009 and possibly still in batgirl 2009

cass: cass isn't opposed to swearing, but given her propensity for mimicking the speech she sees around her in batgirl 2000, I don't think she'd do it a ton until she sees it on the videos she watches to figure out how 'normal people' talk. then she does do it, though I imagine it's less in anger and more just casually, since i headcanon that cass gets less verbal the more overwhelmed emotionally she is (which... IIRC is supported by canon? She stopped talking at some point in batgirl 2000 when she was on the outs with Bruce if I recall, it's been a bit since i did a read through)

duke: duke is another character I don't see as opposed to swearing, but I don't think he does it out loud on account of his mom clearly not liking it (at least he doesn't do it around his mom, or didn't back before she got joker-ified XD). he does in his internal monologue though sometimes

Tim: Tim canonically censors his own internal monologue IIRC in Robin 1993 you know he does not swear. possibly inspired by whatever cheesy 50s/60s exclamations his icon dick grayson made when he was robin.

*We do see her yelling and saying things she'd regret over comms, but also saying things you regret is like batfam 101 if you don't do it they kick you out.

[sanguineterrain]

could I request a fic with insomniac!reader and tim? i love your writing im excited to see how you make his character your own! <3

thanks for the request! first time writing tim... kinda nervous like I'm on a first date 🫣 hope you like! this one isn't as mushy gushy as my usual fics (jason) so yeah. also my knowledge of yj is purely through fic 🤙

tim drake x gn!reader. tw insomnia, tim being so awkward but maybe... there are feelings... who can say. tim's character is so interesting to me (probably because I identify with him the most lmao).

****

It's really, really nice of the team to let you stay over tonight. Like, really nice.

You haven't even done much. You're pretty much a nobody in the superhero world, not even a D-list hero. Certainly not anybody that should be hanging out with the likes of Wonder Girl and Superboy and, God, Tim freakin' Drake.

Kon was just overly generous in his cool, brash way, herding you into a spare room after last night's battle. After tonight, you'll politely break away from the team to give them some reprieve. It didn't escape your notice that they didn't hang out last night like they usually do.

You've been awake for an hour now, listening for sounds of life in the corridor. If you were home, you'd already be on the couch watching crappy TV. But you really don't want to run into anyone here.

Maybe you have some chamomile tea leftover from the last time you stayed over. You hadn't stayed the whole night, slipping away without interference as most of the team had gone to their own homes.

You get up, stretching and popping joints. It's always a little cold in the Tower, and it wakes you up as you walk to the kitchen first. You're as quiet as you can be in heating the water and finding the tea.

You take your mug and head to the den. As you enter, you freeze.

Tim turns his head from his place on the couch. The blue light from the TV makes him paler, and his eyes bluer. Sometimes, he looks so much like Bruce Wayne, it startles you.

"Oh," you say, unsure what else to say. Your brain is tired and fried. "I... was just looking for my watch."

That's definitely your dumbest lie. You don't have a watch. Tim sure as fuck knows that.

His eyes flick to your wrist, as if reminding you both how stupid your lie is, then to your mug. He mutes the TV.

You stay where you are. Tim stands, obviously shouldering his own bout of insomnia.

"It's... you can come in," he says, just as awkward as you.

That's comforting. Tim's usually so suave, the few times you've interacted. He's all Gotham Heights, his upbringing never quite sloughing off no matter how many times he's probably tried to blend in and not be so... private school.

"I was just going to bed," he says quickly.

"No, you weren't," you say. You don't mean for it to come out so shrewd. Tim looks a little startled.

"I mean, you don't need to go," you add. "I'll take this to my room. It's fine. Sorry."

"No, I've been here too long anyway. I should work on my case."

Here's the thing. It's not that Tim avoids you because in order to do that, you'd have to see him more than three times a year.

But there's a distance. You've tried not to take it personally, tried to chalk it up to the fact that you're introverted and Kon and Bart are Kon and Bart, and Cassie's too straightforward to beat around the bush, and you've somehow won her over, which is nice.

And Tim is just... cautious. Paranoid.

Those are understatements, and you can't imagine the psychological damage caused by being raised by Batman, but, well, you've seen the previous and current Robins, so you can hazard a guess.

Anyway, Tim kind of acts like an unsocialized cat with you. You once mentioned it to Kon, in nicer words, but he dismissed you, saying, "Whaddya mean? Rob likes you!" Which had assuaged nothing, but whatever.

"I won't be here long," you say, as a last-ditch effort to not make it feel like you're kicking Tim out of his own space. "I just, uh, couldn't sleep."

He watches you in that freaky Bat way, like he's trying to determine if you're a threat or not. Jesus.

"It's hard for me to sleep after a battle," you add, trying to show your belly. That's how it feels, being around Tim Drake. Like you always need to be vulnerable first. Like you're in a battle of wills you didn't know you entered.

He doesn't sit down, but he does say, "Me too."

You nod and drink your cooling tea. "There's more tea in the kitchen if you want. Chamomile."

"I'm... good. Thanks."

You edge over to the armchair diagonal to the couch and sit.

"You can work in here," you say. "Unless, uh, it's too distracting. I'll keep the TV muted."

His laptop is on the other side of the couch. Tim is still, only his eyes moving from you to the laptop.

"I don't wanna push you out," you say.

"It's really fine," he replies immediately.

It's so not fine. This isn't boding well for your insomnia. You're definitely going to be agonizing over this interaction all week.

"I won't bother you," you say.

"I didn't say you would."

Then what's the problem?

Slowly, Tim returns to the couch. You look away, so it doesn't seem like you're watching his every move (you are), nor is Tim clocking your every move (he is).

He settles on the couch and opens his laptop. You drink and try to figure out what's playing on TV. It looks to be a rerun of Columbo. You smile.

"You like Columbo?"

Tim looks spooked that you're still talking to him, but he answers. "Yeah."

"Me too."

You watch Columbo silently look for clues. Tim types, fingers flying over the keyboard. Then his fingers pause.

"I used to watch it with Dick," he says. "When I first became Robin."

You nod, giving him your full attention. "Yeah? He seems like the type."

"He does a pretty good impression of him. He likes detective shows."

"You don't?" you ask.

Tim shrugs. "They're fine. I guess I just hate how predictable they can be."

"Of course the boy genius would say that," you say, smirking.

Instantly, Tim's face turns to stone. He hums, looking back at his laptop. You blink. What happened?

"Sorry. That was a joke," you say.

"I know," Tim says, any trace of warmth gone.

You're startled by the shift. "I don't—I wasn't making fun of you. I mean, you are smart. Really smart."

Tim carefully looks at you. "...Thanks."

You nod clumsily. You should've just stayed in bed.

It's quiet for a long time. You're trying to muster up the confidence to escape to your room when Tim speaks again.

"People have said stuff like that to be facetious. I... reacted without reading your tone."

It's not an apology, but it's probably the closest thing you'll get.

"It's okay," you say.

Tim nods. His shoulders aren't so tense, though his posture is atrocious when he's off-duty.

He gets up and gives you the remote. You take it, smile small. Tim retreats.

"You can unmute it if you want. I don't mind."

So you do, and you and Tim spend the next hour half-watching Columbo and half-watching each other. Eventually, your tea finishes, and the episode ends, so you get up.

"I think I'll try and sleep," you say.

Tim nods. "Good luck."

You hum. "Thanks. Good luck with the case."

"Yeah. Thanks."

You wash the mug and leave it on the dish rack. Then you escape back to your room. You really do feel like you could sleep again. Maybe Columbo reruns are the magic ingredient to a good night's sleep.