#minor tim/steph

[valravn-nova]

No one: The plot of Robin #112-#115:

Some stills below(low quality)

[tastycitrus]

looking for cass fics via cass’s tag on ao3 be like

here's a story about tim where cass is a minor character

here's a story about jason where cass is a minor character

here's a story about dick where cass is a minor character

here's a story about damian where cass is a minor character

here's a story about literally anyone but cass, who is still just a minor character

rinse and repeat ad nauseam in whatever order, that's it that's like 90% of cass's character tag. also she's either barely present in her minor role, written out of character, or both at once

[thinkmarkthink]

Clark walks into the cave during a minor argument.

Dick is yelling. Jason’s throwing popcorn. Tim’s half-asleep, and Damian is sharpening a blade pointedly.

Clark coughs. “Hey, um—”

Jason: “Oh look. Mom’s boyfriend is here.”

Clark blinks. “I’m not—”

Dick: “Okay, but if you and Bruce were official, how would you discipline us?”

Steph: “Are you pro or anti curfew?”

Clark: “I—what?”

Tim: “How do you feel about grounding someone from the WiFi?”

Clark looks desperately at Bruce.

Bruce walks past, completely deadpan, and says, “Let me know what you decide, dear.”

Clark cries a little inside.

[jasontodddidnothingwrong]

The Robins all get matching tattoos except its not a cute family bonding activity, it's mostly just out of spite.

Dick does it first. A single tri-colour Robin feather floating in the space above his collarbone. Everyone gets fed up FAST with him wandering around shirtless (and then in a weirdly abundant number of off-the-shoulder shirts after Alfred politely tells him to start wearing one) to show off his "cool new ink".

Jason decides he's sick of it (and okay, maybe he also likes the sentimentality of a Robin tattoo), so he decides to get his own better art. He turns up in the batcave the next night with a robin skull bathed in sickly green light on his right shoulder. It makes everyone viscerally uncomfortable, and he feels some kind of way about it.

Tim just genuinely likes the idea of getting a tattoo to honour Robin. He opts for something abstract, with a flock of curved Vs, five in all, swooping in a line across the right side of his ribcage. The middle one is a vibrant shade of red.

Steph goes with Tim because she's convinced he'll cry during the process (he doesn't). Tim accuses her of projecting, so she gets a single feather - this time upright and shrouded in purple flames - on her right hip. She sheds one (1) single tear and guilts Tim into buying her Batburger over it on the way home.

A moratorium is called on all family tattoos when Bruce finds Damian threatening the third tattoo artist who dared refuse service to him, a minor. His pleas - that he's the blood son, so he has to have the best tattoo - go entirely unheeded.

Bruce spends three hours at the next team-wide meeting lecturing the Robins for permanently marking their bodies with imagery that might reveal their vigilante identities.

And if he has a fresh tattoo of a bird's nest on his left thigh while he does it, well then nobody has to know.

[bet-on-me-13]

Bruce owes Danny money. He does Not want to pay up.

So! Danny had to run away from Amity Park when his parents discovered his Powers. But every time he tried to stay in a single place in America, they somehow managed to find him.

Turns out, they were working with the GIW to track him using the GIW's resources and the Fenton's Genius to find him everywhere he ran to. Eventually, Danny figured he had had enough and ran to Europe where the GIW had no Jurisdiction.

After wandering for a while, Danny was found and recruited by the League of Assasins. He was powerful, skilled, and connected to the Lazarus Pits, so they approached him with a job offer.

They would hide him from the Fentons, who had began to search for him in Europe independently, and in return he would work for them as an Assasin.

Considering his situation, Danny agreed.

He began training to be an Assasin, supplementing his Ghost Abilities with the abilities of an Assasin to become even more Stealthy.

While training under the League, Danny met another recruit simply known as Bruce. They trained together for years, even going on a few missions together gathering intel, and using disguises to hid in plain sight.

On one of these missions, Danny lent Bruce some money with the promise to get paid back when they returned to the League. That same night, Bruce left the League of Assasins and never came back.

...

Bruce was sitting in the Batcave going over a case with Tim, Jason was off to the side cleaning his Guns, and Dick and Cass were holding an acrobatics competition in their Obstacle Course, with Damien, Steph, and Duke cheering them on.

Suddenly an Eldritch Emerald Light sprang to life in the center of the Batcave, and everybody dropped what they were doing and sprang to action.

Slowly, a glowing green figure emerged from the Light. He appeared Eldritch in Nature, as if he existed in multiple layers of reality at once and looking at him gave them minor headaches. Then, the figure spoke up.

"BRUCE. ITS BEEN 15 YEARS. YOU STILL OWE ME 16 DOLLARS."

Recognizing Danny, Bruce took a moment to compose himself before responding.

"Fuck Off."

[damian-lil-babybat]

Batman and Son (2006)

Batman Incorporated #8 (2012)

the fact that it’s totally normal for Bruce to carry a Robin in his arms but if you see him carrying a fully-grown adult child like Nightwing or Red Hood etc that means they probably died/are about to die is KILLING me.

[rosemaryhoney27]

"Diplomacy for the Feral and the Damned"

Bruce had just sat down in the Batcave with his second cup of post-patrol coffee—black as his mood, strong enough to keep a Kryptonian awake—when his private line buzzed. Not the Batline. Not the board line. The one buried so deep in encryption and passive-aggressive threats that even Oracle called it “Extra-Paranoid Mode.”

He stared. [Incoming Call: Vladimir Masters]

Bruce blinked. “…Oh, this is going to be a day.”

He answered with the flat monotone that had driven Gotham’s underworld into therapy. “Vlad.”

The holographic screen flickered to life—and there he was. Vladimir Masters, looking every inch the eccentric billionaire and possibly more ghost than man now. Silver-haired, in a robe that screamed “I paid three million for this and regret nothing,” surrounded by classical art, levitating books, and the faint crackle of ectoplasmic interference. The whole aesthetic screamed “If Lex Luthor was haunted by a Victorian novelist.”

Vlad beamed. “Brucie!”

Bruce’s eye twitched. “Don’t call me that.”

“It’s lovely to hear your voice, dear cousin. It’s been too long.”

Jason, eavesdropping from the shadows with popcorn, whispered, “Wait. Cousin? Since when do we have that brand of family drama?”

“Shh,” Tim muttered, scribbling something labeled Possible Interdimensional Ghost Cousins Conspiracy.

“I need your advice,” Vlad continued. “Something very personal. Deeply serious.”

Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What now, Vlad?”

Vlad leaned forward, the screen staticking briefly. “How do you get your children to be civil with you?”

There was silence. Real, echoing, existential silence.

“…I wasn’t aware you had adopted children, Vlad,” Bruce said slowly, like trying not to scare off a rabid raccoon.

“I haven’t. Not technically,” Vlad said breezily. “But my godson is staying with me. Lovely boy. Has the appetite of a black hole and the sense of self-preservation of a rabid badger.”

“...Oh god,” whispered Dick, “he sounds like all of us.”

“Cute that Masters thinks we’re civil,” Damian sniffed. “How charmingly misinformed.”

“Wait. He said godson?” Tim asked, eyes lighting up. “Do you think—could it be—Phantom?”

Vlad didn’t notice the peanut gallery commentary. “The boy has caused four minor diplomatic incidents, bitten a baron, vanished into the ceiling during a formal gala, and accused a senator of being a reptilian. Which turned out to be accurate, but the delivery was unkind.”

Bruce squinted. “That sounds like… Dick, Damian, and Tim at the Wayne Foundation Spring Gala ‘19.”

“I know!” Vlad pointed at him like a man discovering fire. “That’s exactly what I said! He’s like your sons! In one small, glowing, vaguely feral body!”

“Glowing?” Steph mouthed. “Definitely Phantom.”

“So, cousin dearest,” Vlad purred. “How do you get them to listen? How do you parent the chaos incarnate?”

Bruce took a long, tired sip of his coffee and simply said, “I don’t.”

“…You don’t?”

“I survive it.”

“Bold of him to call this survival,” muttered Cass as Jason started texting Alfred for cookies and emotional support.

“Each one is an unpredictable event wrapped in trauma and tactical gear,” Bruce continued flatly. “They will not listen. They may occasionally pretend to. But only after chaos. Much, much chaos.”

Vlad sighed, running a hand through his hair. “So there’s no secret Wayne method? No clever strategy?”

“...Cookies?” Bruce offered.

From beneath the desk, something gnawed at Vlad’s ankle.

He glanced down and hissed, “Danny, stop that, I told you we don’t bite family!”

“He said that senator looked like a snake,” came the muffled voice. “And I was right.”

Vlad groaned. “Why couldn’t he just be one kind of disaster? Why all of them?”

Jason grinned. “I like this kid.”

“New cousin,” Steph agreed. “Absolutely chaotic. Ten outta ten.”

Vlad looked back up at Bruce. “So. No help?”

Bruce looked thoughtful. “Keep fire extinguishers on hand. Avoid hosting events near chandeliers. Always assume they have at least two hidden weapons. And get used to being called ‘Dad’ at the most inconvenient political moments.”

A pause.

“Also,” he added, “tell him you’re proud. Even when he’s a disaster. Especially then.”

Vlad blinked. “...That worked for you?”

Bruce glanced around the cave. Steph had stolen Tim’s notes and was writing “FERAL COUSIN CLUB” across the top. Jason was already planning a trip to Amity Park. Damian was silently judging the snack selection of this new relative. And Dick was on his phone already texting Danny memes.

“…Eventually,” Bruce muttered.

“Charming,” Vlad sighed.

From under the desk: crunch.

“Danny! Stop chewing my furniture!”

Danny peeked out, sharp-toothed grin gleaming, eyes flickering green. “Tell B-man I wanna go to one of those galas next time. I wanna meet chandelier boy.”

Jason fist-pumped. “YES.”

Bruce just sighed. “...I’ll warn the staff.”

[goddamnitmahtin]

dc x dp group chat shenanigans

So basically, Dick makes a group chat for the minorities in the family because sometimes Bruce just doesn’t get it you know?

And Danny? Started going to school in Gotham. That’s it.

Dick created a group chat.

Dick renamed the group chat “The Minority Chat”

Dick: Okay everyone, if you don’t have a reason to stay, leave.

Dick: Nobody left.

Tim: Well yeah, Dick. All of us are minorities.

Damian: Yes, I have to agree with Drake. For example, I am half Arabic.

Duke: I’m black.

Cass: …

Babs: I’m disabled.

Steph: Teen pregnancy.

Tim: RAMCOA

Dick: Well what about you Jason?

Jason: I fucking died bro.

Dick renamed the group chat “Sib Chat”

This group chat went on to become the best way for them to vent to each other about Bruce and share memes to each other. They also sometimes randomly kick someone out so the others can stalk them. This time it was Damian’s turn.

Duke has removed Damian from “Sib Chat”

Duke: Guys I just saw the weirdest shit on patrol today.

Cass: ?

Babs: With Damian? He’s meant to be at school today.

Tim: He’s there, his tracker hasn’t moved locations.

Steph: When did you sneak a tracker onto Damian?

Tim: Don’t worry about it.

Duke: Don’t worry he is at school. But get this. I saw him eating his lunch outside. And he was talking to someone. AND SMILING.

Cass: 😮

Tim: Was it his “I’m gonna kill this guy while he’s sleeping” smile?

Duke: NO

Tim: Oh shit

Babs: Did you see who it was? I can run a background check.

Duke: No. But I will keep you posted. Where are Jason and Dick btw?

Babs: Dick is sleeping and Jason got shot.

Duke: Oh okay. Don’t let him administer his own Dilaudid.

Babs: Trust me, I won’t.

A few weeks later

Duke has removed Damian from “Sib Chat”

Babs: Please tell me you got info

Duke: I do. And it’s weird

Jason: Don’t tell me Dami got a SO and didn’t tell me?!

Duke: God I hope not.

Cass: ???

Steph: Spill the tea macho man

Duke: Recognized the backpack from last time. I saw the kid Dami was all smiley with at a coffee shop and I shit you not, he looks like if Damian was white.

Jason: The fuck does that mean?

Duke: IM TELLING YOU! He was Damian but white!

Steph: What would that even look like?

Cass: 🤔

Jason: I’ll believe it when I see it.

6 hours later after dark

Jason: Holy shit you were right.

Duke: YOU SAW HIM TOO?!

Jason: That was terrifying.

Dick: Wait this isn’t a joke? I thought Duke was pulling our leg-

Damian: What are you two rambling on about?

Tim: Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Damian: I do not believe you.

Cass: …

Damian: Fine. I will not interrogate you all. I am going to get ready for patrol anyways.

Dick has removed Damian from “Sib Chat”

Dick: I wasn’t paying attention until now so you all better tell me everything.

[acid-ixx]

i don't even get why she was so salty over "woke" propaganda when the fandom she literally writes for is inherently woke from the start 😭 you can never deny how superman is an illegal alien immigrant who is titled champion of the oppressed, who fights not just for america but for human rights as a whole, then there's also batman, wonder woman, literally green arrow, every superhero you idolize are woke as hell, let's not forget how writers planned to make conner kent a trans woman? 🤨—

then you gotta tell me she came to a conclusion to form bigoted opinions, and THEN tell others not to dabble into her own country's politics when she spews shit about the damn issues happening in america (fuck ICE, fuck the government, and most especially you tr*mp 🤮)??? also, as far as a stretch as this sounds, the tim drake hate feels very much targeted, cause ik she mentioned how the writers "ruined" his character by making him bi and ruining his romance with steph, when the latter has already broken up with him long ago (homophobia much??? for someone who claims she actually doesn't care about his character, why so salty then? and why complain about him being bi when that was also announced YEARS ago)

and also, her one pinning a long message saying the blog is supposed to be free from politics or whatsoever, but damn what a hypocrite, especially when she calls everyone who rebuts the r slur? i have had so much gripes on her from the start damn 😭

just saying, if you're a writer with a big following, like me with a big platform, that doesn't mean you automatically have the power to talk about your dogshit, uneducated opinions and expect to NOT get attacked or called out for it, ESPECIALLY if it's targeted to minorities, and especially if you know you can't defend yourself and end up deleting your blog cause you know you're in the wrong LMAO

(yes, this is about luv-lock. i once vaguely mentioned her in my account, idc if i get attacked for this, i'm just pointing out my own observations)

[emacrow]

Damian and the Dumpster baby.

Damian was doing patrols, with a bit of a minor rescuing and feeding the strays animals until he heard a noise from a dumpster.

Tonight was going to be a storm coming, and he rather check up on the strays, feed them, fixing any of the secure hiding places he put out for them for rain occasionally, and try to smuggle 1 or 6 into the barn again without Father knowing. Alfred can keep a secret sometimes.

Jumping on the edge of the dumpster to see a plastic bag tied up on the pile of trash with something squirming inside, alive obviously. Oh if this another group of puppies, he going to find the culprit himself and break their kneecaps and arms this time.

Easily untying the plastic bag and opening to reveal.. a little baby.

Not a kitten or a puppy, a living breathing human baby, cut and tied umbilical and a pale with a unique birth mark in a shape of a lichtenberg from his tiny hand fading to his chest.

This..

This was out of Damian's comfort line.

He had dealt with saving animals, people, children, hell even toddlers. He never dealt with a baby before much less a newborn.

He could panic later as he hear the sounds of a storm brewing. Carefully picking up the baby by the back of the head and and by the body, using his cape to as a blanket to cover the obvious nudity of the baby. Climbing onto his Red Robin theme Doom Buggy.

Taking care of a baby is no different then taking care of a baby animal, right?

.....

.....

.....

.....

He got caught after 5 month and a half by Alfred during feeding Danyal time, while scolded him about hiding the baby instead of coming to him.

He had a good reason to though, last time he told Alfred about the last newest addition, Bruce sended the Jafar the Ligor to a sanctuary. He still felt betrayed by that.(even though now Jafar is happily spending his days with the other mixed big cat breed but still)

He done a good enough job taking care of Danyal, even though he had to secretly look up baby stuff, medicine, clothes, a soft bedded cot and diapers.(the smell was much less worse then the sewer) he considered himself a great care-taker.(even though in the back of his mind, he feared that he might had unlocked that genetic adopt-bat bait traits that Dick warned him about)

Damian had gotten.. a bit attached, considering the idea of putting danyal in orphanage or a foster care wasn't ideal afterall the corrupted ones that Father and him had broken through over the years left a bad gut feeling if he had actually gone through with his plan. Danyal was one of his babies, only not covered in fur, scales, or a shell.

And he didn't do everything all on his own, Cass was the only who figured it out, kept it a secret and help out.. then steph found out... and Jason, Tim and Duke unfortunately found out after Cass and steph snuck danyal in the manor for a nice bath.

Only reason Dick didn't found out because everyone know he can't keep a secret away from Bruce's ear for long after found out Jason's new girlfriend was the new therapist in Gotham, and telling Bruce would feed his adopt-holic again and he end up having baby fever. (Tim didn't tell him what that word meant but he did look it up in a baby care guide book for new parents. And EW)

They were going to wait it out til Danyal was at least toddler age before sneaking him in the manor to gatekeep gaslight girlboss Father into thinking he already adopted him. (Steph's words, not his)

New post <-

[kitkatscabinet]

UNDERCOVER LOVER

requested: by anon

pairing(s): dick grayson, jason todd, tim drake, stephanie brown, x fem! reader

summary: fake dating for a mission

a/n: I did kind of deviate a little from the initial request but I hope you still enjoy, lemme know who y'all wanna see in part 2

warnings: 18+ nsfw themes, oral sex in steph’s part I blacked out and it just happened, mentions of human trafficking. minors evaporate. Unedited.

DICK GRAYSON

Your feet were killing you. They hadn't even been on your feet for two hours and yet the godforsaken heels Bruce had procured for you were already causing blisters.

You already owned heels, you argued, pairs that had been tried and tested and weren’t liable to leave you stumbling around like a newborn deer. Mentioning this had received an unimpressed look from the billionaire, who’d promptly declared that any shoes you owned ‘weren’t expensive enough’, and that you’d ‘be made instantly.’

In hindsight, he’d been correct, your $12 Kmart bad boys that had seen you through many a club crawl screamed poor, even so, he hadn’t needed to read you like that.

Fucking rich people.

"You could at least pretend you’re enjoying yourself, honey." Dick grinned, sliding his arm around your waist, the contact setting your traitorous heart aflutter.

Well, if that's how it was going to be, two could play at that game.

"How can I, when I’d much rather have you all to myself?" You pout, running your hands up his chest and playing with his silken tie, the colour a perfect match for your outfit.

Some of the more drunken men jeer and whistle at a blushing Dick, crass comments whispered to their companions without a care for subtlety. Pigs.

"Aw, don’t be like that doll, I'm sure you and I could have a lot of fun." A particularly brave, or stupid, man with slicked back hair that just made him look greasy winked. Or rather, he attempted to, his face instead twitching strangely as he blatantly stared at your chest.

'The only fun we'd have together involves me smashing your face in, you soggy old ball sack,' Is what you want to say. What you manage, after a warning squeeze against your hip from Dick, is a flustered giggle, "I don't think my fiance would appreciate that very much."

"Now, now, Buck, you should know better than to think a woman so stunning would give you the time of day," a honeyed voice interjected, low and smooth. It'd be attractive, soothing even, the sort of voice perfect for audiobooks, if it weren't for the fact the voice belonged to one of the biggest scumbags in Bludhaven.

Victor Stevenson, the current leader of one of the largest arms trafficking rings in Northern America.

Instantly, the chatter surrounding your little group died down, all eyes turning towards the owner of the opulent mansion they'd been fortunate enough to be invited into.

Buck flushes a deep red, but is evidently not suicidal enough to defend his pride against the top dog.

Victor gently takes your hand, leaning down to place a kiss against the back of your palm that you have to fight not to immediately wash off. You feel gross, slimy from even just that brief moment of contact, but you force yourself not to react outwardly.

Dick must feel the same as you, if the miniscule twitch of his left eyelid is anything to go by. To the untrained eye, Dick appeared jovial, but to you, who'd known him for so long, the cracks were obvious. His jaw muscles tenses for a few seconds, teeth clenching before you nudge him with your hip, forcing him to relax, and his gaze has never once left Victor's person.

Just like Victor's gaze has never left you. Your toes curl inside your stupidly expensive and uncomfortable heels, the vapid mask you'd donned for the night rapidly dissolving as you fight the urge to hurl, or punch that smirk right off the douchebag's face. Whichever happened first.

The scumbag snaps his fingers and a waiter appears from thin air, a silver tray in hand ready to take Victor's empty drink, seamlessly providing him with a new glass of $1000 Merlot.

You shoot Dick a glance from the corner of your eye but he's already moving, excusing himself from the conversation smoothly as he tails the server, waiting for the perfect moment to snatch the glass with an undoubtedly perfect set of prints.

Amateur. All those investments and no gloves.

Unfortunately for you, with your man no longer by your side, Victor becomes bolder with his advances and there's only so many coy denial's you can throw his way before you'll be forced to beat him off with a stick.

"Come on darling, I could rock your world."

"I couldn't, my fiance — "

"Would never know, my men could keep him occupied long enough for us to get... acquainted." He purrs, and this time, you do spew a little in your mouth.

Before you can turn him down, Dick does it for you, aggressively, by pulling you into the dirtiest kiss of your life. It’s like he’s trying to eat you, one of his hands slipping down to grab a handful of your ass as the other clutches your jaw, preventing you from escaping. Not that you’d even want to.

You’re so surprised that you don’t manage to stop the downright pornographic moan that slips past your lips, which only seems to encourage Dick.

By the time he pulls away you’re heaving to catch your breath, more than a little dazed as Dick pulls you into his arms like he’s manoeuvring a doll.

“Sorry, I don’t share what’s mine.” Dick’s grin is feral, and you have no time to react before his fist is reeling back and smashing into Victor's nose.

You screech, not because you're overly opposed to Dick's actions but because you're now firmly the number one target of the ridiculous amount of security guards.

“If we make it out of this I will fucking kill you.” You hiss.

“If we make it out of this I’ll get down on one knee for real. After more kissing though, definitely gonna do more of that.”

You suppose that’s an acceptable apology.

JASON TODD

The gin martini you'd been nursing for the past 15 minutes was nearly empty, your nails drumming absentmindedly against the glass as you plaster a look of boredom across your face.

You were on your seventh game of Blackjack in a row, a favourite of your target's, and you were nearly at your wit's end. Jason had bitched out around game four, planting an obnoxious kiss on your cheek before scuttling off to observe from afar.

Just when you were beginning to lose hope he would even appear, the man himself appeared, sliding into the seat next to you with a lecherous grin that set your teeth on edge.

Word through the grapevine was your target had a thing for married women, a real gentleman, and if the way he leers at the gaudy ring Jason had thrown at your head earlier, before blatantly staring down your dress is any indication, the rumours speak true.

Bile rises in your throat, but you force a genial, slightly flirty smile, as you let the man lean closer.

"You come here often, sugar?" He breathes into your face, a rancid mix of steak and cigarettes assaulting your nostrils.

"Maybe I should, if it means I'd get to see you." You giggle, biting your lip to appear flirtatious whilst simultaneously using the pain to ground yourself.

“You’re gonna make me lose my lunch.” Jason grumbles through your earpiece, while you mentally flip him the bird. You were the one suffering here.

He doesn’t even play a game, opting to watch you play for one quick round, flirting with you and touching enough to warrant several showers afterwords before he’s inviting you back to his room.

Every molecule in your being is rebelling, screaming with disgust, but you force yourself to put on your big girl panties, giggling as you take his sweaty hand.

For the mission, you repeat the mantra in your head, maybe if you repeat it enough you’ll black out and wake up after it the nightmare is over.

Only instead of leading you towards his room like you’d expected, like was planned for, the man starts leading you in the opposite direction, hand wrapped in a bruising grip around your wrist.

“You’re hurting me.” You try to wrench free, only to stumble when a furious 6 foot wall of muscle blocks his path.

Jason is furious, murder in his eyes and a terrifying look on his face despite the goofy moustache. “Watch it man.” Your target drunkenly sneers, too blasted to apparently recognise your supposed husband, or have any self preservation instincts.

“Excuse me? That’s my wife you’re manhandling.”

It’d be comical how quickly the scumbag pales, letting you go like he’d been burned and stammering apologies if it weren’t for how ridiculously turned on you suddenly were.

My wife. It shouldn't be as sexy at is for Jason to be so possessive over you, if it were anyone else you'd probably be disgusted, but with Jason you find your mind and your pussy at odds with each other.

"I swear, if I find a single... mark..." Jason trailed off, his rage turning apoplectic at the sight of a hand print shaped bruise already starting to form.

Between one blink and the next, Jason't laid him out, fists and jaw clenched. "You, alright—"

You throw your arms around him, one hand tugging at the curls on the back of his neck as you kiss him. It takes him a few seconds to respond, but eventually he kisses you back gently.

He clears his throat, voice wavering a little as his tongue darts out to lick his lower lip, "You don't have to keep up the act, you know?"

"Who said anything about acting?"

"Oh wait," you leaned down, rifling through the now unconscious man's pockets before you victoriously pull out his wallet. "Room service's on him."

"Lead the way darlin'," he murmured, still a little dazed, eyes glued to your ass.

Cute.

TIM DRAKE

You were furious. Four months you'd been ingratiating yourself into Strickland's inner circle, greasing elbows with some of the scummiest humans on Earth, pretending to be just like them.

Four months undercover just to be told Strickland wouldn't possibly do business with you because you were a woman. Four months of doing the disgusting hard yards in your efforts to bring down a human trafficking ring only for the entire thing to come to a screeching halt because you didn't have a husband.

Enter one Tim Drake, who unbeknownst to you, is practically frothing at the mouth for the opportunity to play your husband. Enough to put up with your foul temperament as you spend hours drilling your undercover story into Tim.

It's not his fault, you know that, but still, your irritation manages to seep through the cracks.

"If you fuck this up Drake I will cut off your balls and feed them to you." You threaten him right before you step through the doors, forcing yourself into character.

To his credit, Tim plays his part beautifully, a possessive hand constantly resting on your waist, arm or thigh, a cool, dispassionate look on his face as he disinterestedly scanned his surroundings.

You even end up perched on his lap, your arm wrapped around his shoulders to keep your balance, his dexterous fingers thrumming against your thigh in a way that makes your stomach flutter.

It's a little alarming how easily he dons the skin of a cold blooded trafficker, cracking crass jokes and shmoozing with the circle of human dirtbags you'd clawed your way into. Typical, what had taken you months to achieve, Tim did within minutes.

Figures the traffickers would be sexist.

For all your threats, lectures and plans its not Tim that ends up blowing your cover, but you.

At some point a child is carted out, malnourished, bruised and terrified beyond belief. It's like you black out, one second you're in Tim's lap, basking in his affection and the next you've snatched a gun from the closest grunt and have shot Samuel Kelley in the kneecap.

To his credit, Tim rolls with the change in plans, easily springing up and joining the fight at your side.

The next few minutes pass by in a blur of adrenaline, gunfire and sirens. It's over quickly, you and Tim are a well oiled machine and you're running on sheer fury.

Tim's the one by your side through it all, and Tim's the one tending to your bloodied and bruised knuckles hours later as you decompress.

"If you fuck this up Drake I will cut off your balls and feed them to you." He mocked, breaking the sullen silence and you lightly kick him in the shin.

"You know, when you asked me to pose as your husband I was hoping to at least get a kiss." He looks up at you through unfairly long lashes and you nearly malfunction.

"Hmm, well I'm still wearing the ring..." You whisper hoarsely, leaning in, leaving it up to Tim to close the distance.

He doesn't disappoint.

STEPHANIE BROWN

Truthfully speaking, the mission hadn't exactly required you to go undercover with Stephanie posed as lovers.

Hell, it’d probably have been more advantageous to pose as two separate entities entirely, but you were nothing if not an opportunist, and there was no way you were going to give up the chance to have Steph on your arm all evening.

She was gorgeous, lilac satin dress clinging to her skin enticingly, drawing gazes from lecherous old men that had you baring your teeth like an animal whilst mentally thanking god for the opportunity to hold her close.

She’s too gorgeous, drawing attention even as the two of you attempt to disappear to investigate your target’s private study. There’s guards everywhere, most of them male, and two pretty women don’t tend to go unnoticed even with your stealth training.

You’d been able to flirt and misdirect your way past several guards already, Steph’s once immaculate appearance now rumpled from the various kisses you’d pulled her into.

Regardless, it had been easy enough to get into the study and get Oracle into their personal laptop. But if you were being honest with yourself, the mission had been long forgotten.

The only thing on your mind was the feel of Steph’s kiss swollen lips against yours, the soft surprised noises she’d made before practically melting in your arms.

Her skin’s slightly flushed and she keeps sending you quick glances from the corner of her eye, attempting not to be obvious. Cute, but you noticed everything about Stephanie, especially the way her thighs seemed to be clenching together when her gaze darted quickly to you before returning to a nondescript corner of the room.

Footsteps sound down the hall and you don’t even blink, pushing Steph back into the plush chair before dropping to your knees reverently.

“For the mission.” You whisper coyly with a hungry stare, before you throw her thigh over your shoulder and duck your head under your dress.

She makes an aborted sound somewhere between a protest and a gasp but then your lips are pressing kisses up the inside of her thigh and she throws her head back with a whimper.

More importantly she doesn’t stop you, her hips grinding forward as if to encourage you toward your destination.

You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t, but you’re not sure when or if you’ll ever get the opportunity again and she’s right there. You’re so close you can smell her.

Her manicured hand grips the back of your head blindly and it’s all the invitation you need to pull her damp panties aside and lick through her folds before you settle your attention on her clit.

She moans loudly, heel digging harshly enough into your back to bruise just as the office door swings open.

“… ladies.” A voice coughs out, awkwardly motioning you to exit. “I do believe the office is off limits, perhaps I could lead you to a bedroom?”

Stephanie looks mortified, but you grin salaciously, licking your lips as you entwine your fingers with hers. “Lead the way, good sir.”

[oncillabrigade]

Consider:

The Bats all have personalized ring tones for one another, but everyone has both a civilian and a Bat ring tone. The civilian ones are chaos, with everyone choosing whatever they want for their various family members and friends. BUT! Everyone has a single Bat tone that all other team members use for them.

The catch? Bruce forbid them from choosing their own Bat ring tones because he proposed this plan back in Dick's Robin days and he IMMEDIATELY picked "Toxic." The choice was not well received.

Bruce: Dick, I will not be alerted to the fact that you're in danger by some Britney Spears song.

Dick: First of all, it is not some Britney song, it is the Britney song. That song finally won her a Grammy.

Bruce: *sighs*

Dick: Second of all, it won't tell you when I'm in danger... it'll tell you when Robin is.

Bruce:

Bruce: I'm taking the Walkman out of the Robin kit.

Dick: *offended gasp*

(Yes, Dick is old enough for a Walkman. No, you will not change my mind. Yes, the Tim-and-on siblings all find that hilarious. Yes, Jason has to be VERY careful not to mention that he borrowed that Walkman for years because he was uncomfortable taking expensive electronics out and about with him.)

Anyway!

Dick then proposes a slew of other songs for the whole team to use, all of which are pop culture references, e.g. the Scrubs theme because they're not Superman and also they're a dysfunctional family of coworkers; the theme from the Godfather because "let's be honest, B, we are basically our own mafia"; "Where is My Mind" by the Pixies because lol identity shenanigans, etc. The list is endless. Bruce spends weeks groaning every time his son texts him.

Eventually, they compromise on the version of "The Entertainer" from The Sting because they're hiding in plain sight to enact a mission defending good people in a hard world. Bruce, Dick, and Alfred are all so pleased with this that they each take a different section of the song as their ring tone.

Then Barbara becomes Batgirl, so she gets a section... and then Jason becomes Robin and gets one, too... and then Tim, then Steph, and then Cass is taken in, and... uh oh. That's a lot of people for one song.

But it's family tradition! They can't stop now. That would be so unfair to the new kids, B!

So they start using alternate arrangements of the song. Bruce has mellowed slightly on the "no choosing your own" thing. As long as it's a version of "The Entertainer" (within reason) he'll allow it.

Tim retroactively changes his ring tone to a weird groove-ska arrangement Bart randomly sent him on YouTube because have you met Tim Drake? Of course he went for hilarious obscurity. (Bruce grits his teeth and approves it after lots of prompting from Dick and Alfred). Steph makes it her mission to find a weirder one (Bruce agrees because he's too tired to deal with accusations of favoritism).

Cass creates her own arrangement on theremin because apparently she knows how to play the theremin. No one is sure why. Upon inquiry, she just says, "spooky noises are fun," but does not elaborate further even when she's asked to do so. A Batgirl's gotta have her secrets—Babs taught her that.

When Jason starts working with his family again, he pays an aspiring music producer within Red Hood's ranks to create a minor key remix of the original Robin II ring tone. His siblings (minus Cass) are VERY jealous he has his own personalized arrangement. Dick, Tim, and Steph end up paying this goon who owns Garage Band to do ones for them, too. Duke does the same when he joins the team.

Meanwhile, in a fit of little brotherly pique, Damian steals Tim's original ring tone. He hopes to rub salt in the Robin replacement wounds. He fails! Tim finds it beyond funny that Damian's ring tone is groove-ska. So Damian quietly pays the amateur producer to make him one that's cooler than Tim's. He pays a ludicrous amount, though, because Steph paid for one cooler than Jason's and Tim paid for one cooler than Steph's.

(Dick wanted one cooler than Jason's too, but he had $63.02 in his bank account at the time and Bruce flat out refused to use the Batbudget on "a super cool ring tone that's better than Jay's." Eventually, Dick just paid himself for an averagely cool one. In installments.)

At this point, the Bats have single-handedly given this fledgling producer enough money to quit being a goon and start an indie music studio. His first customers are mostly superheroes from out of town who like what the Bats have going on and want their own team ring tones. Harley and Ivy get in on that action, too.

Then, as word spreads, every local crook/henchperson with a side band (there are many) flocks to the studio to have their stuff produced by one of their own. Gotham rogues suddenly have an unemployment problem, while the city finds itself with a flourishing indie music scene that puts Metropolis' to shame. The entire state of New Jersey is celebrating the dual victory.

Dick has never been so glad someone doesn't like Britney Spears' magnum opus.

[miryum]

☆ 18+ minors dni ☆

Warnings: changes tenses like, two times, cause Jason is obvi still in love with you, so it would be weird if some things were in the past tense and such. Just go along with it

Virgin!Jason Todd who never had sex before he died and when he comes back in a different body, looking like he fucked half of Gotham, is still just a scared little kid underneath it all.

And then came you.

You met Jason at a Wayne Gala, coming as a friend of Duke’s. You didn’t know about any superhero personas, and it showed. Happy and carefree, you weren’t what Jason assumed of the average citizen of Gotham. The parallels didn’t escape him: you, dancing with Duke and slightly buzzed, and him, the epitome of a wallflower. Clothed in a stunning red dress that just so happened to be the exact same colour Jason had practically trademarked, Jason’s eyes followed you over the rim of his glass. He was nursing a cup of non-alcoholic cider because he would never touch a drop of alcohol after his parents.

“Who is that?” Jason murmured to Cass when she came over to hide from the party. Cass was the only one he felt remotely comfortable with. She didn’t know him before Red Hood, like Bruce, so she didn’t compare him to an energetic little boy that was just a memory in the mirror. She didn’t joke around and pretend everything was okay and dandy, like Dick. She didn’t constantly ask whether he was okay, like Steph, or dote on him like he was a broken birdie. She wasn’t holding past resentment, like Tim, who still hadn’t totally forgotten Jason’s rage at his replacement. And she wasn’t a reminder of the al Guhl’s, like Damian. Cass and Alfred were his safe space, even though both had their flaws.

“Y/n L/n,” Cass supplied, not asking any questions. “Duke met her at school and they clicked. She’s been coming over to the Manor more frequently. She’s actually pretty fun. Even Damian introduced her to his zoo.”

Jason couldn’t hold back a snort, wondering how that must’ve gone over. Damian was extremely protective of his pets, so only a select few could interact with them. Jason missed the cocked eyebrow Cass gave him, surprised at his reaction. He was too busy watching you pull Steph onto the dance floor.

“Um, when does she usually come around?” Jason asked, trying to be subtle and failing miserably. “Just so I can, you know, avoid her.

It was Cass’s turn to snort in amusement, before saying dryly, “Fridays or Saturdays.”

Did it surprise Cass at all when Jason just so happens to show up to the Manor on Saturday, claiming he forgot something from the party? No. No, it does not.

Dick was utterly shocked at Jason’s appearance. It was well known that Jason was just dipping his toe into the Batfam again. He usually stayed at his lonely apartment and only came over during a major holiday. Dick tried not to look anything into it, but he couldn’t help a surge of hope that his little brother may be coming back to them.

Alfred, on the other hand, was not surprised at all. In the recent mornings, Jason had been sneaking into the kitchen, just to talk to Alfred. The two shared a bond that few could achieve. When Bruce wasn’t acting as a father, Alfred was there. So when Jason appeared on Saturday morning, having carefully thought out that Friday was much too soon to officially meet you, Alfred had already set out another plate for breakfast.

“Did you acquire any sleep last night, Master Jason?” The butler asked as he flipped pancakes.

Jason chewed at his lip and shook his head. “I tried, but I was thinking too much, you know?”

“Your nightmares again?” Alfred prosed smoothly.

“No,” Jason replied smoothly. Y/n L/n.

Virgin!Jason Todd who knew you were coming over. What he didn’t know was that you were coming over under the pretence that you and Stephanie had a video game to finish, when truthfully, you wished to see the boy from the party that had caught your eye. You weren’t disappointed. Jason had taken up residence in the living room, foot propped on his knee as he oh-so-casually held a book in his hand.

Steph threw Jason a curious glance before throwing herself down on the couch and picking up a controller. “Y/n, this is Jason,” she introduced. “He’s… a brother,” she decided was the best way to describe him.

Jason, determined to look nonchalant, glanced up from his book (he had been staring at the same page for six minutes) and said, “hey.” Excellent conversation starter, Jason, he thought to himself sarcastically.

“Hi!” You gave him a small wave before sitting down next to Stephanie and taking a controller from her. Jason soon found it very difficult to keep pretending to read, not because of the shouts and yells you and his sister were making at the TV, but because of the groans coming from your mouth whenever something didn’t go the way you wanted. He couldn’t help but dream, wondering what other situations you would groan in.

He excused himself soon after, head ducked and neck flushed as he hurried out of the room. He didn’t notice you staring after him, wondering what was wrong. It wasn’t until Steph shouted out that you were about to die that you were snapped out of your trance.

Unfortunately, you did die in the video game, but you found an excuse to talk to Jason via the book he had left behind.

Cass easily supplied his address and so that’s how you found yourself at his door one Saturday evening.

It’s just a book, you reasoned. I could’ve left it at the Manor. This is stupid.

And yet, almost as if he sensed you, Jason opened the door right when you’re about to leave. “Y/n?” His voice was hoarse from disuse and even though he’s bigger and stronger and more dangerous than you, you couldn’t help but compare him to a child coming to their parents after a nightmare.

“Hey, Jason,” you said, holding the book close to your chest. “Um. I just came to return your book. You left it at the Manor.” You hesitated for a moment before asking, “you okay?”

Jason nodded and it was then you noticed his hair was wet from a shower and his grey shirt had sprinkles of little water droplets on the shoulders. “Did I disturb you?” you asked.

Jason immediately shook his head. “No. You could never disturb me.” He glanced at the book in your hands, eyes flicking back up to you before muttering, “thanks,” and grabbing the book from you.

Ripped out of your hands, leaving you without your lifeline, embarrassment bloomed on your face. You didn’t know whether to leave or to continue the conversation — if you could call this one.

Jason hated himself when he awkwardly closed the door in your face.

He tried not to cry himself to sleep that night, images of his scarred body in the bathroom mirror haunting him

Virgin!Jason Todd didn’t see you until next month’s gala. You made your way up to him, this time in a green dress that suited your complexion perfectly. Jason didn’t like seeing you in Damian’s colour. He much preferred his own.

During a slow dance, you asked with hands behind your back, “how was the book?” You leaned against the wall, smiling up at him. Jason really liked that smile, even if he didn’t deserve it. As much as he would hate to see it – jealousy swirled in him even at the thought – it was Dick who deserved that smile. He had always been the suave, smooth-talking one. Hell, right now, there were three girls talking to Dick.

Jason realised he hadn’t answered you. You deserved someone to pay attention to you. But if you could give him another chance to pay attention, he’d happily stare at you forever.

“Um. It was good. Is, I mean. I haven’t finished it yet.” He hadn’t been able to look at the book since you dropped it off. It only reminded him of how poorly he had treated you. And how dangerous you were to his feelings.

After a moment of awkwardness, you asked with a teasing and curious lilt in your voice, “do you not have anyone to dance with?”

Jason’s head whipped towards you. All semblance of coolness left him when you spoke to him. “I’m not really a dancer, princess.” The nickname slipped out and he wanted to bang his head against the wall. He didn’t notice your blush and small smile because he was too busy blushing himself and looking anywhere but you.

He wanted to tell you that he’s never danced before, but he would gladly dance a thousand dances with you. But he couldn’t say that because that would be too obvious. You’re not stupid, he rationalised. You’re perceptive and his poker face is ruined when it comes to you. You’d probably figured out he has a crush on you.

Which he does. A stupid, impossible, and terribly inconvenient crush.

As a kid, he didn’t have time for crushes. Between living in Crime Alley and being Robin, the closest thing he got to a crush was seeing pretty girls on the street. And then the Joker killed him before he was able to be a teenager.

But these feelings were bigger than he had ever felt for a girl on the street. Was this how a teenager was supposed to feel?

So why was he feeling this now when he was a full grown adult?

Virgin!Jason Todd who’s ears flush pink when you cheekily ask him if he has a significant other to dance with. No, he doesn’t have a girlfriend. How could he have a girlfriend when you’re standing next to him looking so pretty? A girlfriend? No, it’s laughable. He might feel attracted to you, but the idea that he could love someone and someone could love him back, even through all the brokenness… was simply absurd.

He wished he could find a better word than pretty. You’re much more than pretty. With all the romance novels he’s read, he should be able to turn his heart beats into words.

It was comical how he can walk into the most dangerous parts of Gotham and emerge without a scratch, but with you, his heart is carved up and shredded. Here he is, flustered over a pretty girl. How pathetic.

And then at the end of the night, when Dick clapped him on the chest and berated him for not using that opportunity to ask you out, Jason thought it was extra pathetic

Virgin!Jason Todd who didn’t know how to go about talking to you. He never learned how. He never had the growing pains of awkward middle school crushes. He was having them now. Should he be flirty like Dick and all those men he read about in books? Should he pass out in your arms from coffee overdose like Tim? Bruce was no help whatsoever and Jason didn’t fully trust him yet to go to him for help.

And bless Alfred, but he was too old for this kind of thing. The butler, depending on his age (for Jason dared not ask), would either subject him on how to marry Y/n L/n before Jason went off to war to fight the Rebels, or how to court Y/n L/n in an intricate dance of politeness and rules where they all wore ball gowns and three piece suits

Virgin!Jason Todd was definitely overthinking it all

Virgin!Jason Todd who knew it was impossible not to overthink when it comes to you. Everything needed to be perfect, because you are perfect. How could he ever ask you out, let alone love you when he had scars both inside and out? It was a good thing he wasn’t a hero, because heroes weren’t supposed to have scars. They weren’t supposed to have trauma. And Jason was the farthest thing from a hero. But that’s all you deserved: a hero

Virgin!Jason Todd who promised to worship you. He promised it to any deity who might be listening just in case they had the graciousness to lead you into his arms. He cursed Bruce the next time he goes to a gala and you’re not there

Virgin!Jason Todd who showed up on your doorstep that night, worried something was wrong. He was still in his suit and tie and shuffling nervously on your doorstep when you opened your home up to him. It turned out you had some work you had to catch up on, which is why you weren’t at the gala.

Hot chocolate and careful talking led to you reaching your hand out to tuck a piece of his hair back. He’s too busy dreaming about laying in bed and having you do that again and again to register your apologies, worried you overstepped. You were apologising. For touching him. He couldn’t stand the thought of that. That you thought you were rude or disrespectful. He needs you to touch him and to think you would apologise for the lovely, new feeling dancing in his stomach and slowly making its way to his heart

Virgin!Jason Todd who then gave you his first kiss, hesitant and slow. His lips pressed against yours, soft and hesitant and a bit off-centred. He tried his best not to let his teeth clash against yours, and he worried he did something wrong when you froze for a moment. But then you brought your hand up to touch his face and oh…

Virgin!Jason Todd who finally understood all those cheesy monologues when you tried to stutter out your emotions. He managed to calm both you and him by kissing you again. Jason found that his anxiety melted away when he kissed you, replaced by a feeling that felt a bit like anxiety, but mostly like home.

His hands laid in his lap, terrified to touch you, the art he was gifted to see. You reached down and gently guided his hands to your waist where he held you tenderly. Holy shit, what if he hurt you? His hands were made to hurt, not to love. How was he supposed to love?

He guessed that you would help him figure it out

Virgin!Jason Todd didn’t mind if the two of you didn’t make it to the bedroom for the next couple of dates. Hell, he would’ve been happy to keep your relationship to watching movies together, you tucked under his arm. He was able to touch you that way. He was able to slowly break down his walls and explore what you liked. A little brush across the side? The small massage of the calf? A kiss to the temple?

It wasn’t about four months into your relationship (which Jason was all too proud to boast and praise you about. He really liked hearing you call him your boyfriend, especially when another guy was hitting on you and they would turn around to see all 6 foot 3 inches and 200 pounds of him ready to throw hands.) that Jason felt himself want more. He wanted all of you. Guilt always gnawed away at him whenever his mind slipped into dangerous territory. Should he be feeling this way? He didn’t want it to seem that he was in this relationship for your body. And how would he ever approach the subject with you? Was he supposed to sit you down and talk about it or just go like all those people in the books and movies.

“Sweetheart?” Jason found you sitting on the floor, reading, because sometimes the floor was just better. He wiggled his way behind you, resting his head on your shoulder. Your hand automatically came to comb through his locks of hair.

He found himself explaining the situation to you

Virgin!Jason Todd who was shocked when you guessed he was a virgin. This was supposed to be some big revelation, but you said you’d deduced it a while ago. Not to mention the relief he felt when you said you’d walk him through it

Virgin!Jason Todd who didn’t know what to do. Now the both of you were in his bed, lips red from making out, a hickey proudly on his collarbone, and you were lifting your shirt up. And when you asked if you could take your bra off, he was pretty sure he had never nodded so quickly. You found it amusing that he was so nervous and excited, but also gratifying that you were the one he trusted enough. You were going to take Jason Todd’s virginity

Virgin!Jason Todd who had his hands guided to your breasts by you. His hands were still for a long moment, unsure of what to do. At his helpless stare, you said, “squeeze them, pinch them, just feel them, Jason.” Slowly kneading your breasts in his hands, Jason felt himself relax. He experimented by lightly pinching your nipple and apparently, that hitch in your breath meant he did something well

Virgin!Jason Todd who then carefully laid you down on his pillow, wanting to take a picture and forever hold onto this memory. But pictures could come later in your relationship. Not even a picture could capture this feeling that was blooming in his chest. You asked if he was ready for the next step and when he confirmed, you wiggled out of your pants

Virgin!Jason Todd who was a bit— oh my god, your thighs

Virgin!Jason Todd who was embarrassed to see your underwear and the wet spot that was slowly getting bigger all because of him. You reassured him that the two of you didn’t need to go any further, but Jason felt the unmistakable and mortifying tightening of his pants. You quickly sat up and tried to calm him down.

“Jay, baby, it’s okay. It’s normal to feel nervous. I just need you to communicate and tell me what you want. If you want to continue, great! If not, great! Let’s go put on a movie and have some popcorn. I will take this at your pace, angel.”

Virgin!Jason Todd didn’t know how you could see him as an angel when the Y-shaped scar on his chest told the story of a devil. A zombie. He wasn’t an angel. He was judge, jury, and executioner. He was a broken man and yet here you were, picking up every shard and piece and creating a fucking mosaic that spanned the cosmos

Virgin!Jason Todd who counted himself thankful a thousand times over when he was able to find the courage to lift his shirt and only see love in your eyes when you saw all his scars and cuts, etched into his skin, each a story that he would wish to forget.

He let you explore and press a kiss to each place he was insecure about. But then he laid you down and slowly slipped your underwear off. Jason swallowed back all the praises and prayers that would’ve fallen from his mouth and made him seem weird. Granted, you two had been dating long enough for you to know Jason revered you, but still

Virgin!Jason Todd who looked at you, wide eyed and heart swelling with love, when you told him that nothing had to happen that he wasn’t comfortable with. There didn’t need to be any oral or anything the first time around

Virgin!Jason Todd who wanted to do more things, but his cock was straining against his boxers so tightly that he might’ve come in his underwear if he didn’t get inside you

Virgin!Jason Todd who had read that he needed to stretch you out first, but you assured him he needn’t do that. Jason didn’t dare think of another man having you and so he did the only thing he could think of — slowly push into you.

Turns out the groans you made with you lost a video game where nothing like the moans you made when he bottomed out

Virgin!Jason Todd who tried so hard not to shoot his load into you when your walls clenched around him the first time.

“You’re making this very, very hard, princess,” he gasped out

Virgin!Jason Todd who managed a few short thrusts before you grinded on his hips and he felt himself losing control. “Y/n-“ he tried to warn you, when your whispered encouragement drove him over the edge. Instinctively, his hips pressed into yours, bucking and trying to obtain friction

Virgin!Jason Todd apologised profusely about the fact that you didn’t come. He felt so bad about it that he was about to get on his knees, determined to try oral for the first time, when you giggled and asked him if he wanted to go another round. Your fingers scratched through his hair and his resolve broke

Virgin!Jason Todd who stared up at you like seeing a goddess when you threw your leg over his waist, straddling him and taking charge

Virgin!Jason Todd who, eventually, after more rounds and more weeks, became more comfortable with pleasuring you and quickly became addicted to your body just as much as he was addicted to your heart and mind

Virgin!Jason Todd who became so much more confident in his body. He began to tease you in public, pinching your sides or hotly whispering into your ear all the things he’d like to do to you. He read some of your smutty books, mentally taking notes, and he studied female anatomy

Virgin!Jason Todd who blossomed into the sex god he looked like, but forever promised that he would only use those powers to pleasure you

Virgin!Jason Todd who wasn’t a virgin anymore

Got this idea from @ivysangel and so I wanted to tag them (thank you! 💕) and also wanted to tag some other people who commented/reblogged cause I was hoping they liked this too 😁🥰

@chinapoty @mxtantrights @thithesandofferings @rookiesbookies @delusionsofgrandeur13 @yourlocalcringydaydreamer @punkeropercyjackson @averageffreader @maarriiii @wordsfromshona @arkhxmknight @v1naco

[biancabi]

Bruce: *Watching the news* -a group of two adults, four teenagers and a child were seen wreaking havoc and destruction in-

Bruce: *Feeling a headache coming* Please don't say Gotham, please don't say Gotham. Please don't say they are children, please don't say they are my children

News: -Central city authorities have not yet discovered their identities but are working for-

Bruce: *Completely relieved* Not my circus, not my monkeys.

*Batkids appearing at the bottom of the screen*

Tim: Okay, I don't want to scare anyone but there is an 80% chance this thing will explode.

Dick: Considering everything we did today, this actually seems pretty minor to me.

Jason: Only 80%? Did you hear that, NOT TODAY, SATAN!!

Damian: *Talking on the phone before hanging up and turning to Jason* Satan says he's very offended and would never bother dealing with people like you, Todd.

Duke: I have some questions about the monster trucks we sunk.

Steph: You're talking about the monster trucks we sunk in Gotham harbor? or the monster trucks we crashed in Metropolis?

Duke: I don't remember crashing monster trucks in Metropolis.

Tim: Of course not, you were too busy trying to stop the fire you started a few streets down.

Duke: Oh yes, I remember that. My mistake.

Damian: Honestly Thomas, I would expect this elderly behavior from Grayson, not you.

Dick: *Gasp* Elderly behavior?? Lil'D I'm not that old, plus you're supposed to be on my side!!

Jason: Sorry Dickhead, but demon brat is right.

Cass: *Appearing out of nowhere and pointing at the abandoned building behind they* Boom

Steph: What?

*the building explodes*

Cass: 🙂👍

Dick: Oh my god, Bruce is going to kill us. Run, guys, run.

Jason: You heard the man. WITHDRAWAL!!

*The transmission is cut off*

Bruce: ...

Bruce: *In collapse* My circus, my monkeys. My circus, my monkeys.

[ophelia-thesheep]

it made me wonder how the batfam would react to finding out that Jason has a child (if no one except Damian knew of her existence) and Jason finding out that Jazz/Yasmin is pregnant with his baby, if it's the first option (especially if it's NECESSARY if the Someone else's DNA AND she doesn't know it) would be so funny because from their perspective the situation is like:

jazz/yasmin: Danny is my son because I used my body to heal(recreate (?)) his human/living part

Jason: I know Danny is my son bcs the dates match, he looks like me and her silence/aggressive and excessive refusal confirms this

batfam: WHEN THE HELL DID JASON HAVE A SON?!?!

Talia found Yasmin's hide out only two days after the bomb.

It wasn't easy. Yasmin had hidden herself well - her monthly reports had never mentioned an acquaintanceship with Vladimir Masters, the absolute gall of that girl - in the middle of nowhere Wisconsin. She bypassed the few security measures with ease, eventually finding her daughter sitting at a kitchen table, hyperventilating.

"What happened?" Talia's voice was cold and demanding.

"The-" Yasmin gasped before stealing herself. "The Fentons are dead."

"I know the Fentons are dead." Talia circled the girl. "One split navel to throat, the other strangled. What. Happened?"

"The Fentons discovered their son was a Meta. Specifically, they thought he had been replaced with the extradimentional species they study." She took a deep breath. "By the time I had discovered their actions, Daniel was... dissected on a table."

Talia closed her eyes. She knew from Yasmin's reports that she'd been acting as the Fenton child's primary caretaker since her adoption and a fondness had developed. "Yasmin-"

"Don't, Mother." She snapped. "Don't act like this is anything less than a tragedy."

"I know-"

"He was a child-"

"Everything's been taken care of," Talia said. "As far as the authorities are concerned, Jasmine Fenton died in that explosion you caused. You need to return now-"

"No!" Yasmin bolted to her feet, glaring at Talia. "He's dead, Mother! An innocent child, the child I raised as my own, is dead because I couldn't protect him! Don't you dare try to sweep this under the rug like... like Danny was something shameful! I'm not leaving! I have to-"

Time Out.

Yasmin shut her mouth mid-sentence, giving Talia time to convince her off her self-destructive path.

"What happened to Daniel is a tragedy, Yasmin. But wallowing in grief and what-ifs only leads to further pain." Talia sighed. "The Fentons and the research you were so fascinated with are gone now. You made sure of that. It's time for you to return home and put that knowledge to use."

Yasmin stared down at her hands. Odd that Talia hadn't noticed, but Yasmin's hands cradled a small, dark blue jewel, polished into a smooth, oblong oval. It glittered under the candlelight, like stars in the sky.

Yasmin swallowed the rock and spoke, refusing to acknowledge what she'd just done. "You are right, Mother. The time of Jasmine Fenton is gone now." She stared straight at Talia, no trace of fear in her gaze. For a moment, Talia wondered where her child had gone. Yasmin never met her eyes unless prompted to when she was growing up. Now she was met with a younger version of herself with cheap dyed-red hair, with the same level of determination that made Talia the Right Hand of the Demon Head. "I will mourn for Danny... on my own time. For now, what is my mission?"

Talia studied her daughter. There was a reason why she'd hidden the girl so far out of the way of her Father and her son. Yasmin was a strong fighter, but had her father's heart, despite her willingness to kill. She'd always reminded Talia of a bodyguard rather than an assassin, but Yasmin wanted to go her own way, wanted to study everything. For years, Talia had indulged her daughter, but now it was time for her to return to the fold.

"For the next month, you will be training to remove any weakness the Fentons may have left in you. After that, you will be guarding an ally for me."

"Which ally?"

"A boy a few years older than you, a son of the Bat." Yasmin didn't react to the mention of her father. Good. "His mind is infirm, but by the time you finish your training, he will be ready to strike a blow against Gotham. You will act as his guard during his training and act as my spy while he's in Gotham. Do you understand?"

For a moment, Yasmin's hand brushed her stomach before she forced her fists to her sides. "Yes, Mother. I will do as you ask."

[rosemaryhoney27]

Saint Danny of Gotham (Now With Suplexes!)

aka: He Said ‘Please’ Before Throwing a Man Into the River

Vlad was convinced now. Convinced that Danny was playing the longest, most chaotic, sugar-dusted con in existence.

Because everyone in Wayne Manor was falling for it.

Bruce had offered to let Danny shadow him on patrol. The man who trusted no one, not even his own toothbrush, had handed over a stealth suit and said, “Just keep to rooftops for now.” And Danny—sweet, shining, horror-child Danny—had nodded solemnly, promised to follow the rules, and then baked power bars for the Batfam before they left.

“Do not eat these,” Vlad warned, dramatically pointing to the bag. “They’re probably cursed. Or contain caffeine in unnatural quantities. Or powdered ghost pepper.”

Jason bit into one. “Mmm. Is that cinnamon?”

“They’re ghost-infused,” Danny said. “Boosts stamina and shields against low-level hexes.”

“I like this kid,” Jason said with his mouth full.

Later That Night: Gotham, 2:17 AM

It was a quiet patrol. Eerily quiet. Bruce was starting to feel unsettled. Not because there wasn’t crime (it was Gotham, come on), but because Danny was exactly where he was supposed to be.

On the comms, he sounded calm. Observant. Even helpful.

“Nightwing,” Danny said politely, “you’ve got a guy two roofs behind you holding a camera with a suspicious lens. Might be paparazzi.”

Dick checked. “Confirmed. You’ve got sharp eyes, kid.”

“Thanks! I used to have to keep track of invisible enemies and ghost wraiths back home, so spotting guys in beanies is kind of a vacation.”

Jason snorted. “Okay, but if he starts hovering again, I’m bailing. No one told me I’d be working with Casper.”

“Casper wishes he had my dodge stats,” Danny replied sweetly.

And then they reached the warehouse.

The intel had said “minor drug deal.” What it actually was? A gang-run blood ritual involving some kind of ancient Gotham artifact, two rogue mages, and at least one very punchable demon with a man bun.

Bruce was about to give the team orders when—

“Excuse me,” Danny said over the comms.

There was a crash. A scream. And a large, extremely tattooed man was suddenly airborne, launched straight through the air by a glowing teenager with a blinding smile and zero hesitation.

SPLASH. Into the river.

Everyone froze.

“…Did he just suplex a man into the Gotham River?” Tim asked.

“He said excuse me,” Steph whispered, horrified and impressed.

“He said please when he knocked the other guy out,” Damian muttered. “I watched.”

On the other side of the warehouse, Danny hovered above the last gang member, eyes glowing, voice still gentle.

“Hi. You seem like you’re rethinking your life choices. Want to surrender before I have to do more cardio?”

The guy dropped his knife and cried.

Back at the Cave

Danny was back in the kitchen, once again wearing his “I cook with spirit” apron, handing out celebratory cookies. Damian was scowling less. Cass had silently handed him one of her spare blades. Even Tim had given him the “you can’t be trusted, but I vibe with it” nod.

Bruce stared at the footage on the Batcomputer.

Danny, calm. Danny, efficient. Danny, using polite phrasing while delivering WWE-level combat moves with glowing fists and sparkles trailing behind him.

Vlad, across the cave, pointed furiously. “SEE? SEE?! Look at him! LOOK AT THIS!”

“He’s very polite,” Bruce said.

“He suplexed a man through the roof of a warehouse!”

“And said please.”

“HE BIT A SORCERER LAST WEEK.”

“He apologized after,” Tim added helpfully. “I checked the audio. He said, and I quote, ‘Sorry! That’s the ectoplasm talking!’”

“He vaporized a ghost snake in front of Commissioner Gordon and then offered him a tissue,” Steph noted, scrolling through her photos. “It was weirdly wholesome.”

Vlad slumped dramatically into the nearest chair. “I am surrounded by idiots. Gotham is cursed. My nephew is a gremlin in cherub’s clothing and I am losing my mind.”

Danny poked his head in, oven mitts on. “Uncle Vlad? I made brownies with ecto-marshmallow. Want one?”

Vlad opened his mouth to say something scathing.

Danny: 🥺

“…Yes, fine, but only the corner piece.”

Jason: “That’s right, he’s ours now.”