#or even one of my older batfam stuff

[ghost-bxrd]

So I’ve seen some people do this thing on AO3 where you post a work that’s compiled of all the little drabbles and small follow up scenes for your existing fics. Is that something I should consider doing as well?? 🤔 like, it wouldn’t be full length fics in there. Literally just 200 and up words or something, but still? What are your thoughts on that?

[ofbatsandballads]

Based on that little blurb you reblogged can I request the batfamily finding out that Jason has a girlfriend by him rummaging through the stuff in his pockets?

They're like dang dude what do you have in there? and it's all hair ties, lip stick, and a recipe for two 💕

-🍬

oh I love a good “Jason hides his lover from his family only for it to get revealed dramatically” fic and now thanks to you, nonnie, I get to write one!

jason todd x f!reader. warnings include canon typical injuries, sibling violence, and slight hints at the batfam’s more traumatic interactions. this is mostly a good ol’ batfam fic, because reader is only alluded to, but I really like it. sorry I made it angsty for a sec there, I just can’t resist the Dynamics™️.

Jason should’ve known better. Really, he should’ve. Taking on Killer Croc alone? A fool’s mistake, but he was just too stubborn to say yes when Bruce asked if he’d like some backup. So now here he is, loopy in the Batcave after Waylon absolutely rocked his shit.

“‘S not even that bad,” he slurs.

The fact that he trips on his own feet and nearly faceplants before Bruce catches him says otherwise.

“Sure it’s not, Jaylad. Let’s get you to the medbay,” Bruce grumbles, worry creeping into that stone cold exterior.

“I’m fine, old man. Lemme jus’ go home,” Jason whines.

He’s met with a grunt that firmly negates his request.

“You can stay in your room tonight,” Bruce says.

“Not my home. Wanna go home,” Jason mumbles as he drops onto the medbay bed.

If Bruce’s face drops a bit, if guilt and sorrow flash across his eyes? Well, Jason’s too concussed to notice. Bruce just nods and begins to assess any other injuries Croc may have left on him. When he reaches for the collar of the Kevlar top, Jason flinches away from him so hard that he slams into the wall behind him. It’s only when Bruce realizes that he’d brushed his fingers against the scar on Jason’s neck that he understands why. His heart sinks and he can’t even look at his son. His shame doubles when he hears a trademark sigh of disappointment from behind him.

“C’mon, Littlewing. Let’s get all of this off you,” Dick says gently as he pushes past their father.

Jason doesn’t flinch when Dick starts to remove his gear. In fact, the presence of his older brother sets him at ease.

“I told ‘im I had it covered, Dickie. He didn’t fuckin’ listen,” Jason complains.

“Yeah, had it so covered you’re concussed in the family home?” Dick teases.

“What the fuck, Richard?” Jason groans before breaking out into giggles.

“How hard did Waylon hit him?” Dick jokingly asks Bruce.

“There’s no fractures, but the contusions are appearing rapidly. Jason’s lucky that’s all he got.”

Dick stares blankly at Bruce. He goes to open his mouth to retort that he was kidding, then decides it’s not worth his effort. Tim thinks it is, though.

“Wow, for a guy that’s chronically online for vigilante reasons, you still know nothing about the internet,” Tim laughs as he wanders into the medbay and flops down on the bed next to Jason’s.

Bruce ignores the teasing and catalogs all the injuries that are revealed to him as Dick strips away Jason’s tattered gear. There’s plenty of lacerations on his torso and likely some on his back. A few are deeper but nothing they’ll need to call Leslie for.

“Or maybe your jokes just aren’t funny, Timothy” Damian says haughtily as he sits himself next to Jason.

The thirteen-year-old tries to put on a mask of indifference, but it wavers when he spots the gash on the back of Jason’s right shoulder.

“Akhi, in what world did you think apprehending Waylon Jones alone would go well for you?” Damian scolds.

Jason narrows his seafoam eyes at Damian and lowers his voice.

“Ya really wanna talk about apprehending people alone, demon spawn?” he taunts lightly.

Damian’s eyes widen and he drops the subject because no, he actually does not want to talk about that on account of the fact that he tried to bring in Clayface alone two weeks ago and nearly got immortalized as a clay statue until Jason swooped in. The two of them had scrubbed his Robin suit within an inch of its life to try and hide the excursion from Bruce. It worked; only Alfred noticed the faint hint of clay in the threads of the cape and all he’d done was sigh and shake his head.

Jason’s gear is fully removed and his head is starting to clear a bit, wooziness replaced by a hammering pain in his temples. The headache masks any pain he would feel from the stitches being placed in his back, though he also suspects that those are less painful because Damian is doing them.

“Your technique is gettin’ better, y’know?” Jason whispers, the compliment unheard by the other three men bustling around the room.

The hands stitching him up freeze and he can imagine the look of surprise on Damian’s face even without turning around.

“Thank you,” he mutters. “I think it will be useful for future endeavors.”

Jason smiles to himself. He knows the kid wants to be a doctor, and he thinks it’s a damn better fate for him than whatever Bruce or Ra’s could’ve planned. The silence that settles over the medbay is peaceful, only broken by the sound of clacking computer keys or the zipping of evidence bags. Then, like an unholy boom of thunder, comes the voice of Tim Drake.

“What the hell is all this?”

Jason’s head whips to the side and he sees Tim rummaging through the pockets of his tactical pants. He goes to scramble off the bed and feels the harsh pull of thread that was mid-stitch through his skin.

“Mind your fuckin’ business, replacement!” Jason shouts.

He grabs a pillow and chucks it at Tim’s head, but he just ducks and continues to empty Jason’s pockets. The contents that spill out on the sterile tray are…perplexing to say the least. Two lip balms (one tinted red), three scrunchies (one black and two red), a grocery list with the word strawberries and a woman’s name underlined, a recipe for chicken stir fry with enough for two portions, and one single soft chocolate chip cookie lay unexplained in the harsh white light of the medbay.

If looks could kill, Tim Drake would be dead and buried six feet under.

“What part of mind your fuckin’ business did you not get?” Jason growls, glaring daggers at the nineteen-year-old.

“Holy shit, he’s got a fucking girlfriend!” Tim exclaims.

The pillow hits him square in the face this time. All four sets of eyes turn to him with varying emotions. Shock is evident in the forest green of Damian’s gaze, smugness and vindication in the icy blue of Tim’s, panic and guilt in the ocean blue of Dick’s, and some weird mix of sadness and fondness in the gunmetal blue of Bruce’s eyes that Jason doesn’t want to think about for too long. The acrobat quickly moves across the room and sweeps all the belongings off the tray and back into the pockets of the tac pants. He grabs Jason’s gear from Tim and hands it back to its rightful owner, who clutches it to himself protectively.

“Don’t make assumptions, Tim,” Dick says. “Civilians leave stuff on us all the time.”

It’s true. They’ve all come home with someone’s forgotten work badge or piece of jewelry before. The oddest thing was when Bruce had a Hello Kitty keychain stuck to the end of his cape. Jason casts a subtle look of gratitude at Dick for trying to give him plausible deniability. Not that it works. Tim stares not at Dick, but through him with his pale eyes in a way that makes a chill run down the spine of the eldest son.

“You knew already? How?” Tim asks incredulously.

Really, he’s a bit miffed that he hadn’t figured this out already. He has contingency plan files on each member of his family (himself included) and he had not a clue that Jason might be in a relationship.

“Drop. It. Now.” Jason warns.

Tim doesn’t consider it until he sees Jason’s fingers twitching in the direction of the butterfly knife on his belt. He doesn’t need another scar from Jason shanking him. Well, at least not today.

“Fine. Whatever. But if I have to bring Bernard here for Thanksgiving, then you have to bring,” and he pauses to remember and recite the name on the grocery list, “home too.”

He knows he’s pushed it when Jason lunges at him, dragging Damian and a threaded suturing needle behind him. Tim barely jumps out of the way in time to avoid a punch to the jaw.

“Robin! Knock it off!” Bruce barks.

It’s almost comical the way all four of his boys freeze in place. It is slightly less comical the way they all proceed to glare at him.

“Fuck it,” Jason grumbles as he settles back on the bed for Damian to continue stitching his wounds. “Just get these done so I can go home.”

“Home to his girlfriend,” Tim murmurs.

“I will fuckin’ slash your throat again, you second-rate fuck!”

Bruce lets out one long suffering sigh. He doesn’t know you yet (a quiet part of him hopes he may one day be allowed to) but he already feels sorry that you’ve been roped into all of this. He feels even more sorry when the butterfly knife flies past his head and buries itself into the wall inches from Tim’s neck. Really, what is he going to do with these boys?

[apatheticsunday]

Apprentice of the Butler

AKA "Alfred Pennyworth hires an interim butler while he recuperates from a Rogue attack. Who better than adoption bait Danny Fenton?" prompt!!

Okay, so imagine Danny moves to Gotham to pursue astrophysics at Gotham-U but he's having a surprisingly difficult time keeping a job. Every time he gets hired, the place gets burned down or blown up by Rogues; it's like he's catnip for trouble. Somehow, he's always in the wrong place at the wrong time.

And Alfred Pennyworth also happens to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. He's at the Gotham Market Co-op, where Danny's been recently hired, and suddenly it's gassed by Scarecrow's Fear Toxin. All the employees and customers scramble to put on their gas masks, but Danny's new enough that he has no idea what's happening. He's suddenly seeing Fright Knight, Dark Pariah, and the GIW. So, he Goes Ghost, defeats all of Scarecrow's goonies, and saves the day! If only his boss would think so, too.

Uh, no. Apparently Danny's now on a Wanted List as an undocumented meta?? And his boss can't be investigated by the GCPD (he's, like, four years behind on taxes and has been dodging the IRS for longer), so he regretfully has to let Danny go. But, hey! Maybe if he becomes a documented meta, he can get hired back. Except Danny can't because the GIW can access the meta registration database and he'll be found out faster than he can leave Gotham.

So, Danny's fired again.

And Alfred "Pride & Honor" Pennyworth?? He's not gonna let the child who saved him (because Scarecrow absolutely was going to snatch the Wayne's butler, who better to take hostage than a billionaire's publicly beloved Father Figure??) possibly become homeless. It's clear the kid is a college student and is barely scraping by, probably paying way too much for room and board at Gotham-U. And... maybe his wrist hurts a bit from a fall. He's older now, it's not impossible that he'd get a sprain or a broken bone. (Plus, Alfred knows the look. The same one as Dick, Jason, Tim, even Bruce. There's an immense grief in those small shoulders, fear and loneliness.)

Cue Alfred hiring Danny on as an interim butler while he recuperates (oh, he's terribly injured, thank you so much for helping me, my boy-). And Danny can't say no. I mean, this old man got injured during the Rogue attack he was apart of! And he's asking for help! And it's also nice to have some money. And a bed and... oh, God, he's working for a billionaire frootloop. Uh-oh.

(Alfred absolutely doesn't tell Bruce about his new son apprentice. It's worth it to see Bruce's eyes glaze over as sees a black-haired teenager standing in the kitchen with Alfred, then doing a double take when he realizes it isn't Jason. And the others are banned from the kitchen, so who is this child in his house?? It's not Kon or Jon either??)

Meanwhile, Danny is actually having a great time with Mr. Pennyworth!! The older man is kind, soft-spoken, and really knows his stuff. Danny really enjoys learning how to cook, especially because none of the food comes alive to fight him. Eventually the Batfam just become used to seeing Danny in the kitchens, gardens, around the house with Alfred. He's a cute kid, always smiling and talking about his college classes. He has effortless sarcastic banter with both Damian and Jason, bonds with Tim about some kind of difficult mechanical mathematics or something, trades dad jokes with Dick. He even manages to win over Cass, Steph, Duke, and Babs.

The only one Danny doesn't truly seem to like is Bruce Wayne, although he never outright disrespects him, since he pays the bills and Danny's midwestern manners kick in. Bruce is confused and very concerned because why is this kid literally glaring daggers at him all the time?? Is he going to poison Bruce's coffee?? Danny's just trying to figure out if Bruce Wayne is a "collects vintage dentures" or "keeps teenagers locked in his basement" type of billionaire frootloop. (He'd kinda prefer the kidnapping, Danny does not want to go looking for a wine cellar and find an entire basement of old teeth.)

Bonus if Bruce tries to subtly win the boy over and Danny's just like, squinting at him, white-knuckling a frying pan and muttering, "That's exactly what someone who collects teeth would say..."

[solelifauna]

So this NOT to imply the writing is bad

But so far the Batfam fic as me genuinely shaking in anger , the fact that dick is convinced that y/n as to prove herself to be "worthy" genuinely got to me to the point I need a pallete cleanser

Could we please get a small drabble of reader growing close with one of the "outside" batfam members?

Like maybe Kate(batwoman) and Luke (batwing) because they are under used

Or hell, maybe to really grind the family gears, reader gets close to azrael

(you know Bruce would've able to do shit if reader got close with Kate, she would fucking eat him alive)

Hey, You're all good bro! I also just want to put out that my fic is based on an au! The portrayals of any characters in my fic are based off of their canon and fanon counterparts, just with my own twist. Since this is a darker universe/au, the Bats along with other heroes are going to be a lot more brutal and jaded.

Also love your idea bro. But, I'll do you one better. Constantine. Bruce absolutely can't stand him and the reader being friends with/getting along with him? Oh, that's bound to grind Bruce's gears. It would also be easier to meet Constantine too.

Let's just say one day the reader gets caught up in some Justice League Dark stuff that Constantine is trying to solve. She gets kidnapped by a cult that wants to use her as a sacrifice. I mean, she is a pretty huge target, being the daughter of a Billionaire after all. Anyways, shes kidnapped, nobody is coming to get her, not from her family at least. Long story short, Constantine arrives too late to stop the ritual, but things don't go according to plan for the cultists anyway. Turns out that the person sacrificed wouldn't be killed, but would instead become a vessel.

Great, now you have some old, eldrich being living rent-free in your mind. The being is old, donning the title "Keeper of Hell", but you'll just call it (they? him? her?), Adam. Yeah, Adam wasn't too happy with the name. When Constantine arrives, however, hes pleasantly surprised to find you alive. When he realizes that you, a 15-year-old, now carry the presence and power of an eldritch being older than Gotham itself, he groans while lighting up a cigarette. Looks like he'd have to deal with you now.

He checks over you making sure you have no internal and external injuries before explaining your situation. He feels a little sorry for you, but he is in no condition to train you. He asks around to other JL dark members, hoping to see if anyone is willing to help you control your new powers. He sighs again when nobody steps up to the plate, too busy with their own sidekicks and quests.

Reluctantly, he tells you he'd help you figure stuff out. And there begins the blossoming of the amazing "Grumpy old man and kid they didn't ask for" troupe. When you tell Constantine your name, he blanks, because of course he gets stuck with one of the bat's kids. However, based on your tone of voice when discussing your family (and the way you begged him not to let Bruce/Batman know of your predicament), he's guessing things aren't all too great between you all. Well, thats not his problem, his only job was to train you and make sure you don't end up accidentally killing someone.

Yeah...like that thought process is going to last. Training sessions start out bleak and professional, he's only doing a job. Then as time continues, he finds himself enjoying your company, your enthusiasm to learn and your rambunctious/sarcastic comebacks always have him fighting off a smile. It's been a while since he's had company like this. Soon, you're both going out on missions, and then ice cream breaks afterward. He lets you fall asleep on his shoulder, drooling all over his trench coat after particularly difficult missions and he can't bring himself to mind.

He's fond of you, although he never admits it out loud. It's okay though, because even though he's never said it out loud, his actions speak louder than words. You could feel his love and pride for you. Although he wasn't exactly your dad per se, he was still something to you, maybe the wine uncle? You don't know, and you don't particularly care to put a label on what Constantine was to you, you're just glad that he's there.

Shit hits the fan, however, when one day you decide to go on a solo mission. It's nothing crazy, just getting rid of some poltergeists and low-level demons and shades. Now, were you given permission to go on this mission alone? No, but in a normal teenage manner, you decide to go anyway. Everything was fine, you got rid of all the poltergeists in the area and even some of the shades too! It's all going well until you realize that the demon mentioned before was not as weak as you were told. You gulped when its blood red eyes turned to you.

"Well shit." Constantine was going to kill you.

It immediately lunges at you, you barely rolling out of its sharp claws. You hit it with a couple of spells, causing the demon to roar out in pain, burn marks now littering its side. Its tail whips at you, colliding with your stomach as you fly into a wall with a loud thud. You groan as you pick yourself up, clutching your ribs, each breath a jagged pain that ripples through your chest. Your arm is slick with blood, the gashes from the demon's claws burning as if its very essence were trying to sear your flesh. You grit your teeth and weave another spell, calling on Adam’s power to knock the demon back. This time, a burst of raw energy slams into it, shattering its leg with a sickening crack.

For a brief moment, you think it's over, ready to strike the final blow. But the demon’s leg snaps back into place, bone and flesh knitting together as if the injury had never happened.

“Of course,” you mutter under your breath. “Why would this be easy?”

The demon lunges again, and you’re just a split second too slow. Burning pain flares through your right arm as its claws tear into you, ripping through your flesh like paper. You scream, the sound involuntary, but you push through the pain, refusing to go down without a fight.

Drawing back, you unleash another spell, a sharp projectile of energy aimed at its neck. The demon flinches, letting out a low growl. That reaction—panic—gives you the first glimmer of hope. Its neck. That's its weak spot.

With renewed determination, you gather every ounce of strength you have left. The cuts across your body throb, and your arm feels like it’s on fire, but you push it all aside. You can do this. You have to do this.

You unleash a volley of cutting spells, each one aimed at the demon’s throat. It fights back viciously, throwing you around the room with a strength that makes your vision blur. Every hit you take feels like your bones are splintering, but you keep going. You keep attacking.

Finally, one of your spells strikes true.

The demon lets out a gurgling screech as your spell cuts deep into its neck. Blood—thick and dark—pours from the wound, and it claws at its own throat, choking. Its body spasms violently, and then, as if collapsing in on itself, it begins to disintegrate. In a few seconds, all that’s left is dust.

You stand there, panting, barely able to process the fact that you did it. You won. A grin spreads across your face, and despite the pain radiating from every part of your body, you let out a weak cheer.

But the celebration is short-lived.

Pain cuts through you like a knife, sharp and sudden, reminding you of just how battered you are. Blood is still oozing from the various gashes across your body, and your arm feels like it’s hanging by a thread. You stumble, nearly falling, but catch yourself at the last second.

“Crap… I’m bleeding out,” you mumble, wincing. “Whoops.”

With what little energy you have left, you remember the spell Constantine taught you, the one that would tether you to him no matter where you were. He warned you not to use it unless it was an emergency—and bleeding out from demon-inflicted wounds definitely qualifies.

You lift your shaking hand and cast the spell, a sluggish flick of your wrist sending out a ripple of energy. A portal forms, shimmering and unstable, but functional enough. Without much grace, you stumble through it, disappearing from the demon’s lair.

What you didn’t know, however, was that Constantine was currently in a Justice League meeting.

The first thing you feel is a sudden drop, like the ground beneath you has vanished. You barely register the sensation of falling before you crash, hard, onto something solid. Groaning, you blink through the haze of pain and find yourself sprawled across a massive table.

You can hear voices—muffled, alarmed—but the world is spinning too much for you to focus. All you know is that you're lying on something cold and hard, and you’re absolutely drenched in blood.

Forcing your eyes open, you see several figures standing around you, staring in shock. Your vision is blurry, but you can make out Superman’s cape and Wonder Woman’s armor. You try to process what's happening, but the pain in your arm and ribs keeps pulling you under.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow. Fuckkkk." You cry out.

Suddenly, the scent of smoke fills the air. You don't even have to look to know who it is. Constantine’s familiar trench coat brushes against your arm as he crouches beside you, cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. His eyes flicker with a dangerous mix of exasperation and barely concealed anger.

“What in the bloody fuck, kid?” he snaps, his tone harsher than usual, but the concern underlies his words.

You wince, the situation hitting you all at once. Crap. Now I've got to deal with this.

You muster a weak, sheepish grin, wincing as you turn your head to face him. “Heyyy Constantine, how are ya?”

His brow furrows deeper, and he’s clearly not amused. “What did you do?”

You swallow hard, trying to think of how to explain yourself without getting ripped to shreds—verbally or otherwise. “I—well, promise you won’t get mad?”

“Too late for that, kid. I’m already halfway there,” he growls, his eyes narrowing as he looks over your wounds. “Now get to it.”

You bite your lip, trying to find the least disastrous way to explain. “So… I sorta… mighta… gone on a solo demon-hunting mission,” you blurt out quickly, hoping he’d just move past it.

The way Constantine’s eyes widen, and the immediate twitch in his jaw tell you that he’s definitely not going to move past it.

“You did what?!” His voice rises as he stands up, rubbing a hand over his face. “Oh bloody— I thought I specifically told you not to go by yourself! And this is what happens!”

“Hey, well, I’m alive, aren’t I?” you say, grinning nervously, trying to play it off.

“That’s besides the point!” He throws his arms up, pacing as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. “Bloody hell, I should’ve known better with you kids. I swear, this is why I never—”

Just then, a dark, grim voice cuts through the chaos, and your heart nearly stops.

“Constantine,” Batman’s tone is low, authoritative. “Why is my daughter bleeding on our table?”

Oh no. No, no, no. Not now.

You freeze, your mind going blank as you feel the weight of Batman’s presence at the end of the table. You slowly, painfully turn your head to see him standing there, cape draped over his shoulders, his gaze icy and locked onto you. His usual stoic expression somehow looks even more intense.

“Ah… shit,” you mutter under your breath, groaning inwardly as you realize you’ve just landed yourself in the absolute worst situation imaginable. “I completely forgot he was still here.” Wait, did you say that out loud?

Constantine gives you a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, kid, you did. And now we’ve got more than just your wounds to worry about, don’t we?” He sighs deeply, rubbing his temples, already anticipating the fallout.

Batman’s eyes narrow, arms crossed as he takes a step closer to you, his voice low and dangerous. “Care to explain yourself?”

You’re still bleeding, your head is pounding, and you’re pretty sure at least a few bones are broken, but none of that compares to the fear creeping up your spine as you look up at your father. Your mind races for an answer, but every excuse you can think of feels flimsy at best.

Constantine clears his throat, sensing the rising tension in the room. “Right. Let’s get her fixed up before this turns into an interrogation, yeah? Kid’s bleeding all over the place, and she’s already taken a beating. We’ll save the lecture for later.” He waves his hand, muttering something under his breath as he kneels beside you again.

The tension between Constantine and Batman lingers in the air, thick and heavy, but Batman finally relents. His eyes soften—slightly—as he watches Constantine work to stabilize your injuries with magic.

You can feel yourself growing weaker, the adrenaline finally wearing off as the pain becomes unbearable. Constantine mutters a healing spell, one that slows the bleeding and knits some of the less serious cuts together. It's not perfect, but it’s enough for now.

“I think it’s time to get you all fixed up, huh?” Constantine says softly, his earlier anger tempered by concern as he helps you sit up, his hand firm on your back to support you.

You nod weakly, not daring to meet Batman’s eyes again. You’re in deep trouble, but for now, at least, you’re still breathing. As Constantine gets ready to teleport you to a safer place to heal, you hear Batman’s voice, calm but steely.

“We’re not done here.”

And with that ominous promise hanging in the air, Constantine picks you up, and the world around you shifts once again.

Constantine gently carries you through the halls toward the Justice League’s med bay, muttering curses under his breath with every step. You could feel his frustration radiating off him, and now, in the quiet aftermath of the fight, guilt begins to settle in your chest. The adrenaline from the battle has worn off, and now you're left with the consequences of your reckless actions.

“Hey, Constantine… I—I’m sorry for not listening to you. I really am,” you say, your voice soft and heavy with regret.

He sighs, not looking at you, but his tone is stern. “I’m not going to lie and say I’m not mad at you, kid. You didn’t just ignore my warnings—you put yourself in danger. There are rules for a reason. What if you got seriously hurt and couldn’t cast a spell back to me? Even worse, what if you died or got possessed?”

His words hit you hard, and you wither under the weight of them. You know he’s right. All those rules and restrictions aren’t just him being overprotective or controlling, they’re because he cares. He’s seen the kind of darkness that can swallow people whole, and the thought of that happening to you terrifies him, even if he’ll never say it out loud.

By the time you reach the med bay, the guilt feels like it’s pressing down on you as much as the pain in your ribs. Constantine lowers you onto a cot, tucking you in with a gruff gentleness that only he could pull off. He sits down on the side of the bed, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a quick flick of his fingers, his eyes never leaving yours.

“What I’m trying to say, kid,” he starts, exhaling a cloud of smoke, “is that I care. I care about you, I care about what happens to you. I don’t want—” He pauses, his voice softening. “I don’t want to ever have to find your body one day. So please, from now on, let me know before you do something stupid like this.”

His words hang in the air, raw and unfiltered. You nod, trying to process it all, and then something clicks in your mind. Wait… did he just say let him know?

“Let you know? Does this mean—” Your eyes widen as realization hits you. “Does this mean I can go on solo missions?”

Constantine lets out a resigned sigh. “Yes, yes, you can start going on solo missions—”

“Hell yeah!” you exclaim, sitting up a little too quickly. Pain shoots through your ribs, but you can’t help the excitement bubbling inside you.

“—but, only the ones I sanction and authorize,” Constantine finishes, cutting through your excitement with a stern look. You deflate a little at his words, but it’s still a victory in your book.

Without thinking, you throw your arms around him, ignoring the sharp pain it causes in your ribs. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise I won’t let you down!”

He chuckles, patting your back awkwardly before pulling away. “Yeah, yeah, I know you won’t. Now, lay back down and get some rest. You still have dark and brooding to deal with.” He gestures toward the direction of the meeting room, clearly dreading the inevitable confrontation with Batman. “And by extension, I do too,” he adds with a heavy sigh.

You groan, sinking back into the cot, the exhaustion finally catching up with you. “I don’t know why he even cares. If he did, he would’ve figured this out ages ago.”

Constantine glances at you, his expression softening for a moment. He takes a long drag of his cigarette before speaking. “He cares, kid. He just��� doesn’t always show it the way you want him to. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel it.”

You scoff, though part of you knows he’s right. “Yeah, well, doesn’t feel like it.”

Constantine stands, taking one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it into a nearby ashtray. “Doesn’t matter how it feels right now. The Bat’s going to want answers, and if I know him, he’s going to want to have a very long talk with you. You’re not out of the woods yet.”

You wince at the thought of the upcoming conversation, knowing that Batman’s interrogation will be thorough and far less forgiving than Constantine’s.

“Great,” you mutter, closing your eyes and sinking deeper into the cot. “Just what I need.”

Constantine gives you a small, almost affectionate smile before turning to leave. “Get some rest, kid. You’ve earned it. I’ll deal with the big bad Bat for now.”

And with that, he walks out, leaving you alone in the med bay. As much as you’re dreading what’s to come, you can’t help but feel a sense of relief. Despite the pain and the mistakes you made, you know that Constantine’s got your back. And, maybe, just maybe, Batman does too, even if it’s buried under a mountain of brooding and silence.

For now, though, you let the exhaustion pull you under, trusting that everything else can wait until tomorrow.

-

As you rest, your body finally succumbing to the exhaustion, your breathing evens out and your mind drifts into sleep. The med bay is quiet, sterile, but the tension in the air lingers, waiting for the inevitable. Eventually, a dark, caped figure glides into the room silently, his form casting long shadows across the walls.

Batman—no, Bruce—stands over you, his sharp eyes tracing every bruise, every cut that mars your face. His jaw clenches as a million thoughts swirl in his head, none of them offering any comfort.

What the hell happened to you? Why are you and Constantine so close? How did you even know Constantine? How much had he missed—how little attention had he been paying—to not notice any of this?

Bruce sighs, a deep and frustrated sound. He removes his cowl, setting it on the side table with a weary hand. Without it, he seems less intimidating, less imposing. He stares down at you, seeing the cuts and bruises marking your skin, but what hits him harder is the way your face, in sleep, is still so achingly young. You're his daughter, and yet it feels like you're a stranger to him now.

How did you get so far away?

He knows the answer. The fault lies with him, with the choices he made, the excuses he repeated to himself—telling himself he was too busy, telling himself he would check in later. Later never came, though, and the space between you widened, until it wasn't just him you were drifting away from, but your brothers too.

Bruce noticed the way your brothers treated you, the harsh words, the cold shoulders. He saw the distance, but he justified it, telling himself it was sibling rivalry or something that would pass. He didn't step in. And now, as he looks at you lying there, bruised and battered from a fight he wasn’t even aware of, the reality sinks in: he has no excuse.

With a heavy sigh, Bruce reaches out, his rough but careful hand carding gently through your hair. The gesture is tender, hesitant, as if he's not sure whether he has the right to touch you like this anymore. But as his fingers comb through your hair, you stir in your sleep, a quiet murmur escaping your lips as you unconsciously lean into his touch. It's such a sweet, innocent moment, and for a brief second, Bruce allows himself to feel the warmth of it.

But the moment is fleeting.

He feels the presence before he sees it, the unmistakable smell of cigarette smoke filling the room. His jaw tightens as his hand stills. He doesn’t turn right away, but his voice cuts through the silence.

“Constantine,” Bruce says, his tone gruff even without the cowl to disguise it.

Constantine steps into the room more fully, leaning against the wall, a half-smoked cigarette between his lips. He regards Bruce with that same nonchalance he carries everywhere, though there's a flicker of something else in his eyes—something more cautious.

"Thought you’d still be brooding over in the corner," Constantine says, taking a drag of his cigarette. His eyes drift to you, lying peacefully on the cot. “Didn’t expect to see this version of you.”

Bruce doesn’t respond right away. He pulls his hand back from your hair, his gaze hardening. "What happened?" The question is direct, but underneath it, Constantine can hear the concern, the frustration Bruce doesn't voice aloud.

"She went off on her own," Constantine mutters, taking another drag before blowing out a cloud of smoke. "Went after a demon. Got roughed up pretty bad, but she handled it in the end. Strong kid. Stubborn too. Wonder where she gets that from, eh?"

Bruce's eyes narrow. "And you let her?"

"Let her?" Constantine laughs, a short, sharp sound. "Mate, I didn’t let her. She went behind my back, just like she’s gone behind yours for who knows how long. Difference is, I’m the one she actually came back to.”

That lands like a punch to Bruce's gut. He doesn’t react visibly, but Constantine can see the tension in his posture.

"I didn't know she was…" Bruce starts, then stops, shaking his head. The words feel inadequate. "I didn't know she was involved with this stuff, i didn't even know she was a meta. Or that she knew you."

"Yeah, well, she found her way to me," Constantine says with a shrug, stubbing out his cigarette on the wall. “And she's not a meta by the way, she's a vessel for some eldritch being"

A vague expression of surprise appears on Bruce's face.

"I don't blame you, mate. I was surprised to find her alive afterwards. Not just anyone survives that kind of transformation, she's strong.”

Bruce crosses his arms, his gaze flickering between you and Constantine. “I know she’s strong.”

“Do you?” Constantine raises an eyebrow, the challenge clear in his tone. “Because she’s been running herself ragged trying to prove it. To you. To herself. And, hell, maybe to me too, but at least I see it.”

There’s silence for a moment. Bruce clenches his jaw, turning to look at you again, sleeping soundly despite the tension in the room. He knew Constantine was right. You'd been pushing yourself, fighting to show that you didn’t need them—that you were strong enough on your own. And he had let you. He'd let you because he didn't even care to notice.

Constantine sighs, sensing the weight of the silence. “Look, I didn’t come here to throw stones. But you’ve got to get your shit together with her. She’s tough, but she’s still a kid, and she’s your kid. She needs you.”

Bruce doesn’t answer, but his silence speaks volumes. He watches you, the soft rise and fall of your chest, and feels the regret gnawing at him.

“I’ll handle it,” Bruce finally says, though the words feel hollow.

Constantine gives him a long look, then nods. “You better. Because if you don’t, she’ll be right back with me..”

With that, Constantine pushes off the wall, flicking away the last of his cigarette. “I’ll check in on her later. Try not to fuck this up, mate.” And with one last glance at you, Constantine leaves, the tension in the room ebbing with him.

Bruce remains, standing over you, his mind a whirlwind of regret, guilt, and the desire to fix what’s been broken for far too long. He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead—something he hasn’t done in what feels like years—before stepping back, pulling the chair beside your bed to sit vigil over you.

He’s still not sure how to bridge the gap, but for now, he stays. It’s a start.

Well, thats all folks! I really enjoyed writing this au, so thanks for the idea! Maybe ill even make a pt. 2 to this? Who knows? Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it.

[witherby]

hello! great work so far :-) im getting into batfam myself and been loving the platonic/familial works you do w littlest wayne! was wondering if you'd ever do an teen y/n or just an older one? I'd love to see you tackle the idea of a robin y/n or jaybe just some angsty kid stuff,,,,,, hope you had a good new years!

-- :33Anon

I love angst with my whole heart and soul, and I'm happy to write it with a slightly older Reader. Hope you don't mind I've commandeered your prompt to showcase the ability you guys voted on.

This one's a long read so I'm splitting it up. This part is roughly 2400+ words.

The Littlest Wayne: Uncertain Home

(Part 1/2)

Masterlist is Here!

Uncle J'onn is looking at you curiously.

He's been doing that a lot, lately. When Daddy brings you to the Watchtower to be babysat so he can go save the world, one of his co-workers that they can afford to spare gets put in charge of keeping an eye on you. Usually it's Uncle Hal, but this time it's J'onn and he's in his natural form, which you don't mind. Green is your favorite color, and his whole body is green! He's nice and calm, and tells you lots of stories and plays any game you want, even if it's hard for him not to cheat and read your mind. He says it's instinct. You don't hold it against him because you still have fun.

Lately, though, when he talks to you, he tilts his head a bit. He usually does that when he can't understand something.

You wipe your face, checking for cookie crumbs. All clean. You search your shirt for any weird marks or stains. All clean. You scrunch your nose and puff out your cheeks, pouting.

"What's wrong, uncle J'onny?" You ask him. Daddy says the way to get honest answers from someone is just to be forthcoming (Dicky told you what forthcoming meant when you asked him later), so you are. "Did I do something wrong?"

That seems to snap his train of thought. J'onn shakes his head and goes back to sorting out the jigsaw puzzle pieces for you. You're good enough at this to do 100-piece puzzles, now, and when you get really stuck you don't even cry anymore!

"Nothing is wrong, Flittermouse," he says, watching you start putting the edges together first like Dami taught you. "You are simply...changing. Differences are not inherently wrong."

"What's inherably mean?"

"Inherently. It means instinctively, or something that is "set in stone." A rule that does not change. I am stating that change is not something that is always wrong. It's not a firm rule."

You pout and try to process all of that in your brain. It was a partial answer. Daddy says that means people might want to hide something from you.

"What's changing?" You ask him. "I got older a week ago. Is that what you mean? I'm four, now. Grandpappy says I'm getting so big and growed up. He says to not do that so fast. I dunno how, though. He's silly."

J'onn hums. His eyes look away from you as he considers what to say. You put one whole edge together before he speaks again.

"You know that I am not a human, correct?"

"Yeah, I know," you say. "I don't care. I love you. And auntie Diana. And uncle Clark. And uncle Barry. And —"

"Thank you," J'onn gently interrupts. "Do you also know that, sometimes, humans are born not entirely human? That sometimes they get special abilities?"

"Yeah, I know that," you repeat.

"I suspect that —" he cuts himself off, hesitates, then starts again. "Little one. You are showing signs of being one of those humans with special abilities."

"I am?" You ask. You perk up. "Can I fly?!"

You immediately abandon the puzzle and climb onto your chair, about to jump off of it to try and fly around, but J'onn catches you by the back of your shirt before you can hit the ground.

"You cannot."

"Aww...then I don't wanna be a megahuman," you complain, stomping your foot.

"Metahuman."

"Whatever."

"I am sorry," J'onn says, "I did not mean to upset you. I do think you are developing powers, however."

"Not fly powers?" You frown.

"No, not flight powers."

"Boring," you say, blowing raspberries. J'onn cracks a smile at your antics and you giggle. "Help me do the puzzle, please!"

"Alright," he relents, sorting more pieces for you. You're both quiet for a while, and you get the whole frame done before he speaks again.

"Little one. Do you know your father's rule about metahumans?"

"Yeah," you say, grinning, because you're a great listener. You pitch your voice down and make it scratchy. It's adorable in your four-year-old tone. "No metas in Gotham. I am Nighttime. Raaahhh."

J'onn huffs in amusement. "Right. He usually means what he says, does he not?"

"Yeah," you agree, "daddy is a bad liar. He lied and said he didn't eated the last cookie once, but he did eated it. Alfie was mad, 'cause it was for Dami, but Dami didn't care. He likes brownies more than cookies. I like brownies, too."

"I figured," J'onn says. He's not looking at you again. This time he's frowning.

"Do you want brownies?" You ask, figuring that was the issue. "I don't have any. I can ask for some when Daddy comes back. I'm good at sharing, 'cause I'm a good noodle, like Jay says."

"No, but thank you for offering to share. Jason is right, you are a good noodle."

You preen. "I know!"

J'onn drops the subject again and helps you complete the puzzle. You squint at every piece in concentration and politely ask him if he can dim the lights so you can work better. He complies, and after another hour and a half, you have a completed image on the table.

"Yay! We did it!"

The sounds of chatter and footsteps appear down the hall moments later, and you spring to your feet in delight.

"Hello!!!" You shout.

A chorus of "hello!" greets you in return from multiple heroes, and the rest of the Justice League files into the room one by one. They don't look too roughed up, so the mission wasn't very dangerous. That's good. You stand by the door and offer them hugs. Everyone complies, to your endless delight.

"Daddy!" You cheer when you see him, running and hugging Batman's legs. He scoops you into his arms and you grin and point at the table. "Uncle J'onny and I dided a whole puzzle! I didn't give up!"

"Good job, Mouse," Bruce says, reaching out to adjust the light. "You did it in the dark?"

"Yeah," you grin, kicking your feet. "Did you punch bad guys?"

"I did."

"Did you win?"

"Yes."

"Can we have ice cream?"

"Maybe after dinner." He carries you down the hall and towards his temporary quarters, the place he'll stay after a particularly tough mission when he can't make it home right away, and deposits you gently on the bed. "I have to debrief with everyone, and then we can pack up and go home."

"Okay, daddy," you say, already digging through the nightstand for a toy to play with. "I stay right here!"

"Good job," he says again, kissing the top of your head, and leaves you alone with a small wave.

--

The next time you need to be at the Watchtower, it's with Uncle Clark and Auntie Diana. The mission wasn't a super dangerous one, so they both got to stay behind and entertain you.

Today, you're a cashier at your world-famous grocery store. You have the best ingredients all over the world.

"Welcome to the groshy store, what do you want stranger?" You demand, getting into character. Clark looks mildly offended.

"Whoa, hello. That's a lot of 'tude for a paying customer," he says.

"You didn't buy nothing yet! Whataya want!"

"Uh. Some carrots please."

"All out."

Clark narrows his eyes at you. "Can you check in the back?"

You turn around. You turn back.

"All out. Whataya want!"

"You barely looked!" He insists.

"FRESH OUTTA CARROTS, BUB. WHATAYA WANT."

"Oh my goodness, now there's yelling. I think I need to speak to a manager."

"Okay!" You shuffle across the room and grab Diana's hand, leading her back to Clark. "This is the manager. Auntie, tell him all the carrots are gone. He can't have any."

Diana covers her mouth to stifle her laughter. "You heard them, stranger. There are no carrots here."

"Well, aside from the blatant nepotism, auntie, I think you're hiding the carrots from me," Clark huffs, crossing his arms. "I need them for my soup. Guess I'll go to the grocery store across town. I hear they're nicer."

"No," you gasp, "wait. Okay maybe I have one secret carrot. I go get it."

You leave their giggling forms and run over to the toy box that was set up for you on the watch tower, thrusting your hands inside to dig around. You squint your eyes, but all the bright colors are hard to distinguish properly. In the dark spaces, deeper into the box, is where you cast your focus. Instinctively, you follow the trail and close your hand around a plastic carrot. You lift your hand triumphantly.

"Okay, got it!" You cry, only to startle when you find both Clark and Diana kneeling beside your toy chest. Diana picks you up around the waist and takes several steps back, and Clark's eyes turn that funny shade of blue they do when he's using x-ray vision. "Umm, I gotted the carrot already. It's in my hand."

"Are you injured?" Diana asks you, expression deadly serious. You frown and shake your head. "You're certain? I could sense something in that box with you."

"No, I'm fine," you promise. Clark stands up and his eyes go back to normal. He shrugs, brows furrowed.

"There's nothing in there but toys."

"Yeah," you nod, "toys and dark spots."

Both heroes look at you. You squirm in Diana's hold shyly.

"Um, want to pay for the carrot?" You ask, holding it up. "It's only ten dollars. Orrr one lollipop." You whisper conspiratorially. "I can be bribed."

Diana and Clark exchange glances. Clark gingerly takes the carrot from you and puts it back in the toy box.

"Sold. Let's go to the kitchen and pick out which flavor you want."

You grin, forgetting about the game, and Diana puts you on the ground so you can follow excitedly after them. With a couple "pretty please's" and your lethal puppy dog eyes, you even manage to get two lollipops. You ask to be hoisted onto the counter so you can swing your feet as you enjoy the candy, and both heroes perch on either side of you.

It's quiet for a while. It feels like that weird, anticipatory quiet you felt with Uncle J'onny, but you don't know what for, so you wait for one of them to speak. You finish off one whole sucker and open the second one when it happens.

"Mouse?" Clark eventually asks, "can you explain what you meant about your toys? That there are dark spots in there?"

"Yeah," you say, "shadows. Dark spots. Light not touching."

"And you can...feel shadows?"

You hum, thinking it over. "Um...yes. Kind of."

Clark and Diana look at each other again. They're frowning. You frown.

"Can you tell us what you mean by that?" She asks.

"Um. I wanted the carrot, for uncle Clark," you say, "so he can buy it at my groshy store. And the dark spots showed me where it was, and I grabbed it."

"Did they also help you complete the jigsaw puzzle, when you were with J'onn?" Diana asks. "It was quite dark when we got back." You nod.

"Yeah. Easier to do in the dark. It's not cheating!" You blurt. "I didn't cheated!"

"Okay, ya' didn't cheat," Clark agrees, gently patting your back. There's a slight drawl in his words which usually shows up when he's stressed out. "We're just curious, is all, darlin'. Seems you've got a... A special talent, we can call it."

"It's a power. They're a metahuman, Kal," Diana says simply, "and you know Bruce's rule."

The rule? Which one? Always brushing your teeth before bedtime? Or maybe no sweets until you finish your dinner? Hmm, but you haven't had dinner yet. That doesn't make sense.

"No metas in Gotham. I'm very aware, Diana."

"Then you see the problem."

Oh. Now you think you know why uncle J'onny was upset that day.

"Now wait a minute," Clark says. He looks genuinely angry, which confuses you. Did they not like that you could ask the dark for help? They had superpowers, too. You figured they would be happy. "They're his kid."

You are. You're Daddy's little Flittermouse, scampering around and bringing joy. That's what everyone tells you. They love you.

"You've seen how hard he works to keep us out of Gotham," Diana says. "We can be trusted to babysit, but we can't enter the city? What does that tell you?"

"That's different. He's territorial, we all know that. He's not a monster, Diana. He would never hurt them —"

"I'm not saying he is. I'm not saying he would. But I am saying that he doesn't bend his own rules. He does not make exceptions."

Oh.

You sit almost numbly on the counter and watch Clark and Diana start to argue over your place in Gotham. Over your place at home.

You think about Daddy's rule about no metas in Gotham. You think about your new ability to interact with shadows.

Oh.

The lollipop tastes like ash on your tongue and the tips of your fingers feel like tv static. When you blink, your eyes sting as they well up with tears. You've been so good about not throwing fits, about not being a crybaby, about being as strong as your super cool daddy and brothers and grandpa.

But you can't call them that anymore, can you? They don't want metas in Gotham, and that's what you are, now. You can't live with your family anymore.

Large, fat tears roll down your cheeks and your bottom lip wobbles. You whimper and both Diana and Clark whip their heads around to look at you in shock.

"No, oh no, don't cry," Diana coos, "you don't need to worry. Your father isn't —"

You bat her hands away when she reaches for you and jump off the counter, running underneath Clark's cape. They don't catch on to what you're doing in time.

Clark practically rips it off and fans it on the floor, floating above it with wide eyes. Diana kneels next to the fabric and frantically pats it, searching for you.

But there's nothing. You've fled into the shadow Clark's body cast and allowed the darkness to swallow you.

[eternallyhauntingthehouseoflove]

Bat-Boys in Bed

I couldn’t find a good gif, sue me

Dick Grayson’s mouth is filthy. And he gets enough praise, so I think he’d be into praising you instead.” You’re so pretty, all fucked-out and dumb…just for me” as he pounds into you, panting in between words.

He’d also be into touchy sex positions, like missionary where he can hook his nose into your neck and wrap his arms around you. Dick would be into you giving him hickies.

I think Dick has an insane stamina—round after round. His hips would meet yours at a punishing pace as he muttered out praise,” this cunt is so warm and wet for me. My beautiful girl.” And he place wet kisses to your neck and cheeks.

Dick isn’t above moaning, but he’s not pornographic about it.i see him whimpering and begging if he’s getting a blow job or if you’re on top and teasing him, but I don’t see him moaning as much or more than you.

Jason Todd isn’t much of a talker during sex, but I do believe he moans. He’d be a lot more gentle with you than popular belief thinks. Especially if we’re talking older, mature Jason who’s passed his “fresh from the pit madness.”

I do believe Jason has a choking kink and I’ll die on this hill. And it doesn’t have to be his hand around your throat or vice versa. It can be him shoving his cock to the back of your throat and feeling you pulse and throb around him.

He enjoys, mature Jason too, seeing your eyes go wide and glassy. Jason loves to pull his cock from your mouth after you’ve had enough and seeing your lips plump and pink. He loves the slight flush of your tits.

Jason is a lot more eager to switch roles and be on the bottom than Dick. If you’re feeling top-ish and want to ride. Jason wouldn’t argue as you ground down on him, rolling your hips and leaving a trail of slick on his pelvis.

He’d beg through covered lips as you shushed him and picked up your pace, driving your hips forward and giving Jason the release he’d been craving.

I don’t know enough about Tim or Duke, sorry.

Bruce is harder to read because there’s decades of lore, canon, and stuff that’s not in the main continuity. Many writers have different versions of him that some favorite—however, here goes.

Bruce is a control freak. Whether you planned it or not, you’d end up in a dom/sub dynamic. He’d be choosing your clothes, picking which jewelry he buys, telling you when to cum before you even realize it.

I also think he has a power imbalance kink, just a little bit. Nothing extreme or megalomaniacal. So I truly believe you wouldn’t be rich (sorry lol); you’d maybe be a lesser known vigilante, and that’s if Bruce is healthily interested in you. I believe you’d be a civilian, but a smart and compassionate one. We know Bruce isn’t one to dumb himself down for company; we know Bruce is attracted to smart women, but none of his past relationships worked because they didn’t have a heart ( I love Talia, but he real; she wasn’t Mother Teresa).

This one may lose people, but I believe Bruce has a breeding kink. It would be a chance for him to restart. His only blood child is an arrogant, cold assassin and the rest of his children are masked vigilantes who dance with death nightly. But with you, his love, he could have a child not born in pain and anger. He’s older and wiser; he’s not as vengeful and mission oriented as he was when he adopted Dick and Jason; Tim sought him out, and Damian came with a chip on his shoulder.

Bruce is unyielding in his refusal to switch places. He’s too paranoid and enjoys control too much to bottom. The closest you’ll get to topping is bossing him around from the bottom.” faster, pretty boy.” You reached up and caressed his face as his pace stuttered and he spilled into you, gasping and groaning as he did.

You wouldn’t be fucked in the suit or the Batmobile. And he hates being called Batman in bed. The closest you’d get to mixing sex with his vigilante life is getting fucked in the Batcomputer seat.

Damian Wayne is the kinkiest Batfam member. I see Damian, who didn’t undergo such a beautiful arc, having a blood and bondage kink.

Damian preferred to tie you down rather than tie you up. He cares for you, and tying you up puts you in an uncomfortable position (he doesn’t want that) and it screws with your circulation. And if he ties you down, he can see your face as he places the vibrator right on your clit. He can see you try to knock your knees—to no avail.

Damian loved to take a small knife and inflict a wound, if you can even call it that. It was feather soft, and you loved when he would wrap his mouth around the wound and suck the blood. Then he’d kiss you, letting the saliva and metallic taste mingle.

I believe Damian would be into hickies and spanking too, but not the for the violence like I see from the kinkier side of the fandom. He would be into hickies, spanking, bandage, and blood play for the markings. It all boiled down to markings. And that’s not to claim that those activities didn’t get you both off, but Damian’s true enjoyment stemmed from the possessiveness of it all.

That’s why he likes to untie you and massage the rope imprints, then walk you to the mirror and spin you around, letting you see all the prints and marks. He could feel himself harden again, but he knew he’d break you if he ever tried to impose his libido and stamina on you.

Don’t kill me, but Damian isn’t into cunnilingus. He also wouldn’t bottom, not like you’d want him to. If, and that’s a huge “if” ( it’s months into the relationship too), he does bottom, it’s not traditional bottoming. Damian would top from the bottom,” go slower, grind harder, beloved.” And he’d grip your hips hard enough to leave prints, because marks, duh!

Damian likes sloppy blow jobs. I know he’s proper and clean, but trust me. Spit, moans, and whimpers; that’s what gets him off. And seeing your cheeks flush and your breathing quicken, but you keep going lower and taking more of him in. He appreciates the determination, and it makes him feel in control, huge, and dominant which strokes his ego.

[celestialgalaxyglow]

Batfam and Danny, Part 7

It was a nice sunny day in Gotham, Alfred had set up a family picnic in the gardens of the manor. For the most part it was peaceful, Dick, Jason, and Tim had only gotten into five distinct arguments/fights in the last hour, Cass and Barbara were meditating under a tree, Steph was suntanning, Duke was enjoying the food Alfred made, Damian was giving Danny another lesson on swordsmanship.

As for Bruce, he was happy seeing his family get along and getting a chance to relax and have fun. He quietly wished that this day could continue without any unexpected surprises.

A green portal opened above them and a white and green blur came out of it and pounced on Danny. Danny stumbled to the floor with a white-haired, green-eyes girl on top of him.

Danny: Ellie!

Ellie: Danny!

They got up and hugged.

Ellie: I've missed you!

Danny: I've missed you too.

They got up.

Ellie: So this is your new family?

Danny looked around to see the rest of the batfam ready to fight.

Ellie: Jumpy aren't they?

Danny: Yeah they are. He looked at Ellie. Ellie if you don't mind can you detransforms? We're currently just together as civilians.

Ellie: Sure thing. Ellie detransformed.

Danny: Everyone this is Ellie, my clone/little sister. Ellie this is my family.

The Bats looked at Danny and Ellie back and forth.

Ellie: You didn't tell them about me did you?

Danny: I could have sworn that I did.

Jason: No Danny you did not!

Danny: Ellie this is my dad Jason.

Ellie (running up to Jason, giving him a hug): Hi! Danny's told me so much about you in his letters!

Jason: Hi, good to meet you too. Jason looked down at her. So... you're a clone?

Ellie: Yeah, I was created by Vlad back when he was still evil. We're all chill now.

Jason (looking at Danny): Kid, how could you not mention you have a sister?

Ellie: Well he doesn't have A sister.

Jason: Danny!?

Danny: I have another sister, an older one, her name is Jazz, she's 19 and lives in Metropolis. I sometimes fly over there to visit her.

Jason: Kid!

Danny: Sorry, Jazz doesn't want to be involved with this superhero stuff while she's in college unless she really needs to, and Ellie lives in the Infinite Realms full-time.

Jason: ...I can't even be mad, this is exactly the kind of thing I would pull.

Ellie: You're family is weird.

Danny: And I love them all the same.

Alfred: Miss Ellie would you like to join our picnic?

Ellie: Oh I wouldn't want to intrude.

Damian: You came out of a portal, and attacked my nephew and pupil, disrupting our lesson, you have intruded.

Ellie: Damian I presume?

Damian: Indeed.

Ellie (choosing chaos): Danny also writes about you, you're his favorite uncle.

Dick and Tim: WHAT!?

Damian: I am?

Ellie: Yes, he loves going on patrol with you and your swordsmanship lessons.

Damian: ...You are welcomed to stay as long as you like, niece.

Ellie: Thank you.

Ellie walked towards the picnic table and started eating some strawberries. Meanwhile Dick and Tim approached Danny.

Dick and Tim: Explain yourself!

Danny: She's lying I don't have a favorite! [Internally: Ellie's not wrong that Damian's my favorite, but I've never written that down!]

Dick: Good, because we all know I'm your favorite.

Tim: In your dreams Richard, I am.

Dick: No you're not Timothy.

Tim: Yes I am.

Dick: No you're not!

Dick rushed towards Tim and the two started fighting.

Damian: Let's continue our lesson Danny, we've wasted valuable time, we don't need to watch does two fight it out for the sixth time in the last hour.

Danny: Yes sir!

Alfred: Master Duke, thank you for not losing your composure.

Duke: Too busy eating right now to care.

Bruce (on the brink of tears): Why does the universe hate me? Why can't we have one normal day?

(Master Post)

[eclips-moon]

Batboy's dating younger Reader headcanon

Hey y'all ! So this is my first time writing, please feel free to give your thoughts on the headcanon and if you want I would really appreciate some tips and advice :)

Tim Drake (Robin/Red Robin)

Protective AF: Tim would be a bit obsessed with keeping you safe, like... he already has a big brother vibe, so dating someone younger turns that into overdrive. He’s always checking on you, making sure you’ve eaten, got home safe, etc. Dude’s basically your life manager.

Super Respectful: He would NEVER cross any boundaries, especially knowing that you’re younger. He’s all about giving you space to grow at your own pace, while quietly supporting you from the sidelines.

Overachiever mode: Expect random gifts like "I did your homework for you" or "I hacked into the school system, and you’re now top of the class." He’d be lowkey smug about it but also super sweet, blushing when you thank him.

Jason Todd (Red Hood)

The Rebel with a soft spot: Jason? He’ll tease you about being younger, throwing around nicknames like "kid" or "baby" just to rile you up, but deep down, he’s got this protective instinct that runs DEEP. Anyone messes with you? They're about to meet Red Hood.

Conflicted feelings: Jason’s probably the most worried about the age gap. He’s already got a lot of self-doubt, so he’s constantly overthinking whether he's bad for you or if you deserve better. You’d have to reassure him that you’re all in, age difference and all.

Gentle Giant moments: Under all that sarcasm and tough exterior, Jason’s a softie. When you’re alone, he’s way more affectionate than you’d expect—always making sure you’re okay, wrapping you up in his leather jacket when you’re cold, stuff like that. He has this big-brother energy but romantic vibes creep in, making it all the more intense.

Dick Grayson (Nightwing)

Mr. Charming: You think the age difference bothers him? Nah. Dick’s the smooth talker of the Batfam, and he’ll joke about being your "wise older boyfriend," but he takes the relationship seriously.

Casual PDA King: He’s super affectionate. Always sneaking in little kisses on your forehead, holding your hand, or pulling you into his lap when you’re both chilling. He’d lowkey treat you like you’re the most precious person in his world.

Big Brother Mode Activated: Being the oldest of the Batboys, he’s super used to looking after younger siblings. This means he’ll also be extra watchful of you, even when you don’t realize it. He won’t overstep, but his protective side would slip through when he thinks you’re not noticing.

Damian Wayne (Robin)

Denial City: Damian hates admitting he cares for you at first because you’re younger. He’s probably the most resistant to the idea of romance. He’d tell himself (and you) that you’re too immature or inexperienced for a relationship... but his actions say otherwise.

Tsundere Vibes: He’ll brush off anything romantic at first. Compliments? "Tt, don’t be ridiculous." But then he’ll turn around and make sure no one else gets too close to you. If anyone flirts with you, they're getting the classic Damian death glare.

Secret Softie: Eventually, he’d accept his feelings, and when he does, he’s surprisingly thoughtful. Damian may not say "I love you" often, but he shows it through his actions—whether it's training with you, sharing his books, or letting you sit in on his quiet moments with his pets.

[anxiousnerdwritings]

I am going FERAL over this imagine:

So basically Bruce brings reader home to be his new daughter/the boys' new sibling but Uh Oh! They now want you carnally and reader is just like "you said you wanted me as a daughter/sibling, wtf is this" and being their platonic darling is better than being shared between them romantically so reader tries to come off as innocent and child/sibling coded by being like "yeah I've never actually kissed or dated anyone before aren't I just so innocent" and the boys are like :)))

So then Dick says you can call him your boyfriend "just to feel it out" and Tim starts blatantly stealing your panties and Jason says he can give you your 1st kiss so you can "practice" with him and Bruce offers to teach you how to touch yourself and (and him) and when you try to walk it back cause the boys are being Freaks they're in their delulu era so eventually you end up tied to the bed with the boys and Bruce drawing straws over who gets to take what 1sts (like 1st date, kiss, virginity, ect).

And Damien is just in the background absolutely SEETHING cause the the boys and Bruce's Horny Time keeps interrupting his Mommy Time with the reader

And reader using Damien as kind of a shield cause what are they going to do, feel you up in front of a CHILD? Like just, "Stay Platonic :))"

Just that kind of pseudo incest makes me Feel Things (*/∀＼*)(///∇///)

I'd love your thoughts/a fic based on this! Ty ❤️

TW: Brief mentions of pseudo incest(y) scenarios/behavior, manipulative tactics, yandere tendencies

(Okay so I’ll answer this with my thoughts for right now.)

I know I primarily write incest(y) related topics for my Game of Thrones/ASOIAF stuff but I have been tempted to/curious about branching it out into some of the other fandoms I write for 👀. (I’ve had a few ideas rolling around in my noggin for a bit if anyone is interested.) So I would be willing to give this a try. I’m down to experiment with some new stuff, within reason of course.

I imagine the Reader being older (probably 19-23), maybe even having been a runaway of sorts or not having a very stable home life, so when they’re given the ‘offer’ to become part of the family they’re looking to fulfill a familial void they’ve never experienced or have forgotten how it’s felt like. I definitely see Bruce and the rest of the boys keeping a very close eye on the Reader before they decide to finally bring them into their family, basically full on stalking them from the moment they caught their attention (you know how the Batfam works). It wouldn’t be a surprise if even before the Reader was with them physically that the boys developed a more carnal desire for them. At first, their intentions were completely platonic, but with all the lengthy observing and information gathering of their supposed-to-be-new-family-member eventually something changed in how they all saw their darling.

I really see the change in their obsession starting with either Dick or Tim first. Especially regarding some accidental or purposeful peeping Tom foolery. I feel like Bruce would be the last to fall victim to the change in direction or at the very least he’s the last one to admit to it. If Damian is younger than I see his obsession staying strictly platonic, but if he were much older than I could see him involving himself to the same depths as his family.

At first, I see things happening subtly. Knowing that at the very least a few of them are already in an obsessive-romantic headspace in regards to their darling before they even physically become part of the family the guys would try to be as welcoming as possible without revealing their true intentions. They don’t want to scare you off right away, they want you to walk into it semi-willingly at least. But the interactions with the Reader would show something else. The lingering touches, the being much closer to you than really necessary, the heated grazes over your clothes here and there that leave you wondering if that actually happened or not. I also kind of like the other members not being fully aware of each other’s change in obsession, everyone giving each other the side eye until it sets in and then all out war of who gets the darling to themself unfolds only to eventually end up with them working together and agreeing to share. That’s when Bruce’s heel-turn is revealed.

Once things get truly amped up, the interactions with the Reader really begin to escalate. The boys would walk around shirtless more often, all of them trying to get their darling to look at them, to really look at them. Eventually, it’s not just them being shitless but either them in nothing but their underwear or nothing at all. They start out as accidents but eventually it’s pretty loud and clear that the guys want you to see them, all of them, to even touch them and feel them to your hearts content. But thats not all, of course it’s not. The touching of their darling only gets all the more intense, to the point that you know damn well that they’re touching you and they want to leave you wanting for more. So much more. The Reader’s innocence and lack of experience would only spur them on even more. They absolutely thrive off of it. They all want to be your first, your first everything. There will be a lot of secret ‘lessons’ being given behind closed doors and telling of “Don’t tell Batdaddy or he’ll get real mad.” “Don’t let Jay know, or he’ll want to punish you for not doing this with him.” “Let this be our secret, (Name). Something just for you and me.” “Can’t tell anyone about this or they’ll ruin it for the both of us.” And they only get even worse from there.

I can’t see Alfred being okay with this in any situation, whatsoever. I think he especially would feel like Bruce and the other boys completely took advantage of the Reader and he would try his best to aid them in trying to keep up with the platonic intention of this entire fiasco. He would be a total cockblock, even going as far as helping Damian in his cockblocking endeavors. Alfred’s intention would be to play both sides so he knows how to help the Reader when it comes to Bruce and the others but it wouldn’t take too long for them to figure out that Alfred is working against them. Like, Alfred was all for the familial-platonic obsession but when things started getting more romantic he was ready to shut that shit down ASAP. You can’t tell me he hasn’t, at least a few times, locked Bruce, Dick, Jason, and Tim out of the house to give the Reader some peace and give Damian his much deserved allotted time with them.

Speaking of Damian, he is a menace (as per usual) but even more so than normal. He really doesn’t take too well to the new direction of his father’s and brothers’ obsession for the Reader. He thinks it’s pretty messed up but he sincerely likes and cares about the Reader and he wants them to stay, he wants them to continue being a part of the family forever so he’ll let some things slide. Some. He even may be willing to look the other way when it eventually comes to Bruce, Dick, Jason, and Tim baby-trapping the Reader if it means this whole ‘family’ thing becomes set in stone with the arrival of a new ‘sibling’. But for the most part, at least early on, Damian would be a huge pain in the ass for the other family members. He feels like he needs to step in to save his darling from the others and their ulterior motives. He’s all his parental/older sibling figure needs, at least at that point. He may even try to runaway with them to keep them safe from the others. Hell, he may even get his mother involved if he was desperate enough, especially if he saw the Reader as a parental figure. Or maybe even another Justice League member to either adopt him and the Reader so that he could have that family experience he was promised with the Reader. Or he would be completely content just living the rest of his life just him and the Reader, platonically of course.

It would either take Bruce or Dick to have a talk with Damian to get him to come to some agreement to allow them to continue with what they’re doing in regards to the Reader. I think Dick would get away with manipulating Damian much better than Bruce could. I think Damian would have some opinions about his father especially throughout this whole situation. Especially since I see Damian being very observant of how Dick, Jason and Tim are behaving towards the Reader early on and picking up on the fuckery taking place, even going as far as telling Bruce about it under the belief his father would be on his side (not ever fathoming the idea of his father also doing similar things to the Reader without him ever knowing). As far as Damian knew his father was completely platonic towards the Reader, as a ‘father’ should be. Right? So understandably Damian feels not only betrayed but also disgusted when he finds out that his father was and still is taking part in, acting in a similarly depraved fashion as the others.

Eventually, I could see them coming together and being one big ‘happy’ family. But it sure as hell comes at a price. (Usually the Reader’s freedom and sense of self outside of the obsession they’ve been dragged into, to drown in alongside their yandere(s).)

[azurefanfics]

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Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader

Word count: 8k

Warnings/tags: Established relationship, explosions, graphic description of injuries/gore, slight disassociation, angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: During an Arkham breakout, you’re tasked with evacuating a building that the Riddler has planted a bomb in. What happens when it all goes wrong?

A/N: This is my first fic I’ve written for the Batfam (and the first fic I’ve written in a LONG time). It’s basically just a non proofread, tropey, long self-indulgent mess that I chucked together because I’m a fiend for angst and love to make my man suffer. I have used a lot of creative license with the medical stuff and have just ignored the concept of realistic physics so please forgive me if it's not accurate at all!

—-

The night started out as a relatively peaceful one in Gotham. Although the two of you were normally Bludhaven birds - Nightwing and Nightingale - you had decided to spend some time in the manor following a mission gone wrong. Your husband had managed to make it out unscathed but you weren’t so lucky. He had managed to wriggle free from his bonds just too late to prevent you from receiving a nasty leg injury, which had left you benched for the last few weeks. 

Dick had managed to get a couple of blows in - enough that the villain wouldn’t be a threat to the citizens of Bludhaven for a while - before the villain slipped from his grasp. But with the threat still out there, neither of you were happy with the prospect of Dick patrolling without backup whilst you were in your shared apartment injured, vulnerable and alone. The two of you had chosen to head to Gotham instead, where your beloved father-in-law welcomed you both with open arms, always happy to have more of his family under his roof.

Your husband was happy to be back in Gotham too - being in the same city made it much easier to bother his siblings. Although he visited very often, extended stays like this one were few and far between so he wanted to make the most of the opportunity to be an irritant in his sibling’s lives. Case in point - Dick was currently suspended upside down on the trapeze in the Batcave, swinging mindlessly back and forth whilst heckling his little brother below him. 

“Jason. Jaybird. Jaaaaaaaay!”

Jason, to his credit, had been doing his utmost to ignore Dick’s existence since he’d stomped into the cave a few minutes prior, muttering something about ‘needing to borrow B’s shit to upgrade his gun’. He’d taken one glance at the mischievous gleam in Dick’s eyes and rolled his eyes, focusing on dismantling his gun instead of his older brother’s valiant attempts at getting on his nerves. That didn’t deter your husband though.

“Y/nnnnn” he whined, changing tactics.

“Yes, Dickie?” you respond, bemused. You love watching your husband like this - carefree and childish, doing what he loves surrounded by people that he loves - so you’d never hesitate to humour him.

“Jason’s so mean! I’m just gonna cry myself to sleep! He’s just ignoring me, its like he doesn’t even lo-”

“Am I gonna have to shoot you to get you to actually shut up?” Jason interrupted with no real heat behind his words, trying to disguise the touch of fondness in his voice with fake anger. Dick grinned in victory.

“Oh yeah? With what gun? What are you gonna do, throw a little spring at me?” he taunts, gesturing at the gun pieces scattered on the table. Jason snorts in response.

“You think I’ve only got one? I’ve got plenty to choose from, Dickface. I’d be happy to give you a demonstration."

Just as Jason started to reach for his duffel bag, the brothers’ bickering was interrupted by an alert from Oracle. The message was simple and to the point: ‘Arkham break out. All hands on deck.’

Jason cursed and turned to gather up his gear, meanwhile your husband scrambled to get down and suit up. Whilst you longed to do the same, Alfred still hadn’t cleared you to be back in the field as your leg wasn’t fully healed yet. Instead, you sighed and headed towards the Batcomputer, intending to join Alfred there and lend a hand. As your husband sped by, you quickly reached out to him.

“Be careful out there, love. Stay safe.” 

“Always am, honey!” he responded with a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back before you know it.” he said, more sincere this time. And with one last peck on the lips, he headed towards the locker room to suit up and join the fray.

You sat down at the secondary Batcomputer - a contingency for this exact situation - and placed your comms in your in, switching it on. You were greeted by Oracle’s familiar voice, sounding harried.

“Gale you’re online, good. There’s 3 major players out tonight - we’ve got the Joker in Amusement Mile, Scarecrow in the Bowery and the Riddler down in the Kubrick District. B and Robin ran into the Joker on patrol so they’ve engaged, but B has requested extraction for R. It's too dangerous for him. Scarecrow has released his toxin in a dangerous location - high population density, lots of weapons in the area, minimal gas masks available. Spoiler and Red Hood are en route. I’ve got N and Red Robin coming in from opposite ends of the city to get to the Riddler as well.”

“Ok. I assume Agent A is supporting B?” you asked. As you turned to see him nod, you spotted a lithe figure in black, followed by a bleary-eyed, sleep-ruffled Duke. The poor guy always seemed to get his sleep interrupted, especially when there was an all-hands call. “Signal and Black Bat are incoming. Black Bat can support B and Signal can head to the Bowery, but we need more hands there.”

“Agreed. Black Bat can lighten the pressure on B and allow Robin to slip away. Can you get him to the Bowery?”

“Yes. Can you get GCPD support as well? I can coordinate over there so you can focus on the Riddler.”

“On it.” Oracle responded.

For the next half hour you focused in on your job: getting Damian out of the clown’s line of fire, tracking down Scarecrow and sending Duke and Jason over to deal with him, coordinating Damian, Steph and the GCPD to get civilians to safety and passing on information to minimise the impact of the fear gas as much as you could. Everything was going well, with Jason and Duke in active combat with Scarecrow and Steph and Damian taking over coordination of the GCPD on the ground. It seemed like there wasn’t much left for you to do. 

You had just switched over to open comms, ready to see if anyone else needed your support, when you heard a curse from Oracle. 

“What happened?” you asked with urgency. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“It seems like the Riddler’s been out for longer than we thought. He’s got bombs planted across the city.”

“Shit. They planned this.” you whisper, realisation sinking in. “How many are there?”

“4 - in Burnley, Coventry, the Fashion District and Chinatown.” Oracle lets out a huff of annoyance as she continues. “I’ve got the general areas down but there’s some kind of interference in the areas so I can’t pinpoint the locations. I need eyes on the ground.”

“The GCPD?”

“They’re stretched too thin. They won’t be able to cover all 4 locations and assist in the Bowery.”

You hummed in consideration. Although things were going relatively smoothly in the Bowery, that was heavily reliant on the manpower lent by the GCPD. Damian and Steph were great vigilantes, but they couldn’t be everywhere at once. While there were other officers in the city, a majority of the forces had been directed towards the Bowery, and those that weren’t were mostly around the GCPD headquarters.

“Tell them to focus on downtown. I’ll pull a couple officers from the Bowery and send them over to Burnley. As for Coventry, I’ll handle it.” you said, sending a quick message to Steph before you stood up to get changed.

“Miss Y/N!” Alfred said sharply in protest. “What about your leg?”

“Don’t worry Alfie.” You shot your pseudo grandfather figure a comforting smile. “I might not be ready for combat yet, but there won’t be any of that. People’s lives are at stake. I can still walk and run, I’ll be fine.” You appreciated his concern but you couldn’t stand idly by while civilians were in danger - that was why you became a vigilante in the first place. You were determined to go out there. Alfred must’ve seen it too, as he met your eyes and simply sighed.

“Be careful, Miss Y/N.” 

“Always am, Alfie!” you respond, echoing your husband’s earlier words before heading to suit up. 

Once you got to Coventry, it was relatively easy to locate the bomb. Although the interference was frustrating for Oracle, it acted almost a honing beacon for you, leading you straight there. By the time you had found the right building, your comms were useless, unable to get signal from the outside world.

The bomb was located in the basement of a large apartment complex, clearly having been placed there to maximise the number of civilian lives at risk. Although you would’ve preferred to deal with it right away, you knew your priority had to be evacuating and getting everyone in the building to safety. Without Oracle in your ear to warn you, you had no way of knowing when the building was about to come down and you couldn’t put lives at risk like that.

Instead, you ran back up to the building lobby and yanked down the nearest fire alarm you could find. A shrill piercing noise filled your ears and, although the sound was headache-inducing, you breathed a sigh of relief - people would start evacuating.

You watched as residents began to trickle out - slower than you would have liked, but this was Gotham so it was probably the third fire alarm they’d had that week. Even so, when they spotted you in the lobby, they began to move with more urgency. Although you were a Bludhaven vigilante, you started out in Gotham and still helped out there often enough that your costume and status as a Bat was well-known. If a Bat was here, it was serious.

You began directing them further away from the building, making sure that they were safely outside of any potential blast radius. You asked a couple of them to try and get in touch with the GCPD as soon as they were out of range of the interference. Although they wouldn’t be able to provide any assistance, they would at least be able to let Babs know that the evacuation was underway.

Eventually the flow of people slowed to a stop, but you knew your job was far from over. There was no telling how many people were still in the building, unwilling or unable to respond to the alarm. You had to go door to door to make sure that every last person was out.

Your suspicions were quickly proven to be correct as you wound your way up the building, coming across a number of individuals and families who were shocked to see you. Whether it was shock at the fire alarm being real or shock at having a Bat on their doorstep, you weren’t sure. Either way, they all quickly understood the gravity of the situation and made their way out of the building as fast as they could. 

Since the fire alarm had automatically deactivated the elevator, there were a couple of residents with mobility issues whom you had to help get down the stairs as well. Usually this would be a simple task for any Bat-trained vigilante, but the combination of the extra weight and the stairs caused your leg to scream in protest. Even so, you were able to deliver them to a safe area outside where other residents were able to assist them, before turning back to continue the evacuation.

Eventually you made it to the top floor, escorting the last family struggling with their young children out with a request that they inform the GCPD that the building was clear. However, even having checked the building meticulously to make sure that every last person was out, you decided to do one last sweep of the building just in case. While it might not have been necessary, you would never forgive yourself if you left anyone behind. 

Your leg was beginning to bother you more than you would have liked, so you ended up limping more than running through the hallways, shouting to alert any possible stragglers. Nevertheless, you were still hopeful that you could get the final sweep done quickly. Perhaps when you were done, you could go out and check on the civilians, try to get in touch with Oracle, and then head back in to finally disarm the bomb.

While you were limping your way down the hallway, making your way out as your check was complete, you were abruptly overcome with a sense of dread. Something was wrong. Something was-

A deafening, thunderous crash echoed out as vibrations shook through the entire building, sending you reeling. The whole world appeared to shake around you as your ears began to ring. Panic seized your chest as you lost your orientation, being thrown around like nothing more than a ragdoll. You were rendered completely powerless as the forces pushed through your body, tossing you in the air before gravity brought you right back down again. 

Your body hit the cold concrete for a split second, before you felt the floor crumble beneath you. You watched as the ceiling above you began to cave in as well, raining down thick chunks of concrete and debris all around you.

Instinctually you reached out, scrabbling to find purchase anywhere as you hurtled through the air. Your fingers met cold metal and you quickly wrapped your fingers around it, closing your eyes and praying that it would be enough. You cried out as your arm was wrenched out of its socket, pain lacing through your body. But even still, you endured, desperately holding on to the piece of rebar that had become your salvation.

Unfortunately, your relief was short-lived. You shifted, attempting to pull yourself up to a more stable position, when a crack rang out above you. With a low groan and screech of metal scraping metal, the piece of concrete above you gave way, taking the piece of rebar with it. Within the blink of an eye, you found yourself falling once again. Your head collided with something mid-air, causing you to see stars as blood trickled down your temple. You almost wished it hit you harder so you would at least be unconscious for what was to come, but the universe was rarely so merciful.

Instead you felt it moment by agonising moment as something pierced through your abdomen, ripping through muscle and sinew, uncaring of the organs in its path as it tore through your body. For a second, there was nothing but your own heartbeat ringing in your ears as you reeled from the impact. You just hung there for a moment, held up by the piece of metal impaled through you, dimly aware of the thick, sticky liquid beginning to drip onto the floor. 

You released a shaky exhale as reality began to sink in, and that’s when it hit you. A searing, white-hot pain erupted from your stomach as a scream tore from your throat. Fire crawled up every nerve ending in your body, eating you alive from the inside out. You writhed in agony, only worsening your injury, sobbing as your ears filled with static and black dots invaded your vision.

Eventually, you managed to battle back the black from your vision as you forced yourself to recall your training from Bruce - training you and your husband had gone over a thousand times. First - remain calm. You could feel your chest heaving as you drew in panting breaths, shaking hands pressed to your abdomen. Calm. You had to remain calm. 

You closed your eyes and thought of your husband holding you tight, gently rocking you back and forth as he softly whispered in your ear, remaining steadfast in his support even on the worst nights of your life. You thought of your father-in-law Bruce, with his blunt words but oh-so-comforting hugs. Of Alfred and his cookies. Of Babs and her knowing smiles. Of Cass and her kind eyes. Of Jason and Tim and Steph and Duke and Damian - of every single member of the crazy vigilante family that had welcomed you and loved you as one of their own.

Unbidden, a tear slipped down your face. Unable to summon the strength to lift your hand and wipe it, you felt it drip down off your jaw, trailing across your body and onto the cold concrete below. You watched it mingle with the blood pooled below you with a detached sense of calm. On the bright side, at least your breathing was under control.

Oh. That’s right. Remaining calm - that was the first step. What was it that was next?

Observation - that was it. You had to take stock of the situation around you. Although you felt seconds away from floating away, from checking out of your brain completely and just leaving your body to deal with the pain, you wrestled back control of your limbs and forced yourself to focus on the next step. What could you see around you?

Looking at your surroundings, you could tell that you were largely encompassed by rubble on all sides. The space you were in was fairly big - about the size of a room in the manor - but was largely shrouded in darkness, making the details hard to see. However, cracks and gaps in the rubble above you did allow small streams of light to flow in, thankfully saving you from being in pitch darkness. 

For a second, you were tempted to shout - to scream as loudly as your aching vocal chords would allow. Gaps meant sound could escape, that someone could hear you. But then you realised, nobody knew you were in here. Nobody was looking for you, searching to hear a voice calling out. Nobody was stupid enough to enter an empty, collapsing building on the off chance someone hadn’t got out. You were on your own. You were better off saving what little energy you had left to deal with the situation you were in. 

Speaking of the ‘situation’, the first thing you saw when you looked down was the object that had punched straight through your body - it was a piece of rebar. How ironic. What you thought would be your saving grace had turned out to be your doom. Still, in a way you were lucky. The piece of rebar had arrested some of the momentum of falling, simply causing you to sink down further on the blood-slicked steel rather than become a smear on the floor. That hadn’t saved you from the falling debris though, as you could see that you were pinned down by a chunk of concrete over your left leg.

Looking at the metal again, you could tell that it wasn’t pointed straight up from the ground, pointing at a 50 or 60 degree angle instead. Rather than a simple puncture wound, the piece of steel had created a messy tear, leaving a gaping hole in your stomach. Ah. So that’s why you were bleeding so much.

Your mind started reeling as you began to comprehend the full extent of the situation you were in. You gave yourself a second to panic - to despair as you recognised how low your odds of survival were, before forcing yourself to set your emotions aside and think logically. How could you even begin to get out of this? That was the next thing you needed to do: make a plan.

Since nobody knew to look for you, you had to make yourself visible to someone who could help you. You had to get out of there. 

The first thing you had to do was pull yourself off the piece of metal that was skewered through you. With the angle of the steel leaving no clean entry or exit wound, there was no point in keeping the object in the wound anyway. You were going to bleed out either way, especially with no guarantee of help on the way. To be honest, at the rate you were losing blood, you weren’t sure if you were even going to make it that far, but you didn’t allow yourself to think about that. You could only allow yourself to focus on the next step, the task right in front of you.

What you needed to focus on was freeing your leg from the piece of concrete that was pinning you down, trapping you in place. You gave the chunk a rough kick with your good leg, causing sparks of pain to shoot from your leg and your stomach in unison. Bile rose up in your throat as stars danced in your vision. 

You steeled yourself for what was to come. You needed to do this, it was the only way out. You closed your eyes tightly and kicked out again, putting as much power behind it as you could muster. This time when the kick connected, you felt the chunk shift, allowing you to pull your leg free despite the excruciating feeling of the rebar being driven further into your body. You breathed and breathed and breathed, praying for the pain to pass. 

Eventually, you had recovered enough to realise that you could barely feel your leg at all. That should have been alarming, but honestly it was a welcome change since fiery hot pain was emanating from every other part of your body. Your head felt heavy and dizziness set in as you shifted in an attempt to get a better look at it. It was purpling and swollen, bleeding from a deep gash, with numerous smaller cuts littered across it. At your ankle there was a large lump, and where the skin had split you could see a hint of silvery white underneath. Your whole leg looked like a mess, and honestly you doubted that you would be able to stand on it at all. 

Even still, you gritted your teeth and forced it to bear your weight for even just a second. It was just enough for you to wrap your hands around the sticky, crimson-dyed steel and haul yourself forwards, pulling yourself off the piece of metal that had pierced through you. You stood upright for just an instant before you felt yourself listing, tipping forward to meet the ground. Black filled your vision as you crumpled into a heap, concrete and dust pressed against your face as your blood dripped between the fingers of your hand that was tightly pressed against your abdomen. 

You didn’t know how long it had been - long enough for blood to have begun pooling on the floor - before your vision returned and you finally found the strength to lift your head. 

Amongst the darkness, you were able to see a bright spot of light in front of you - a way out! It wasn’t far - maybe about 10 metres - but in your state it may as well have been 10 miles. You attempted to push yourself up onto your feet, but your leg gave way beneath you almost instantly. You had no hope of getting out of there like that. Finding yourself on the floor once again, you resigned yourself to crawling over instead. 

You moved slowly on your stomach, half crawling, half dragging yourself across the concrete, nails of the hand on your good arm scraping across the floor with a primal desperation to drive yourself forwards. Your body was singing in agony as you felt each movement scrape dust and debris into the open wound of your stomach and grind your arm bone against its empty socket. Despite the pain tormenting your body, you were still able to continue on, moving inch by torturous inch, ever closer to your escape.

Eventually, after what felt like hours, you were able to reach the gap in the rubble. You had just started to pull yourself through when the ringing in your skull got more insistent, black invading the edges of your vision. Despite your best efforts to push on, you found that your body refused to listen, refused to move another inch. It had finally become all too much and your body had begun to shut down, just close enough to salvation for the adrenaline to wear off. 

You prayed that your efforts would be enough as you finally surrendered to the darkness.

—-

Dick was frustrated. 

It was a mistake - a calculated risk that hadn’t worked out in their favour, that had allowed the Riddler to slip out of their grasp just long enough to detonate the bombs he had planted. Although they had got him back under their custody quickly, it was just a moment too late, so he and Tim were left waiting with bated breath to hear what their mistake had cost Gotham. Last they’d heard, the bombs had been located and evacuation efforts were underway. That had been a while ago, so they were cautiously optimistic, but you never know in Gotham.

“N. RR. We’ve heard back from the GCPD about the extent of the damage”. Babs’ voice rung out through their comms, putting them out of their misery. “3 of the 4 bombs were successfully disarmed. The 4th was located in an apartment complex that was confirmed to be clear of civilians.”

While it was upsetting that so many people lost their homes because of him, he was thankful to hear that the evacuation was complete. Dick wanted so badly to breathe a sigh of relief at the news, but something in the way she spoke made him hesitate. It was cold and toneless, focused on delivering facts only. It was the voice she used when she was forced to compartmentalise.

“O?” he asked, prompting her to go on.

“Nightingale was the one evacuating the building” she started, as distress began to leak into her voice. “We don’t know if she was clear of the explosion. She hasn’t checked in yet. There was-”

Dick stopped listening at this point, sucking in a sharp breath to try and clear the buzzing in his ears, to try and focus on anything but the dread that filled his body from head to toe. Why were you even there? You should have been resting in the manor with Alfred instead of bearing the consequences of his own stupidity. His mind spiralled with worst case scenarios and what ifs, as a pit settled in his stomach. 

No! Catastrophising wouldn’t help the situation. You were a vigilante, you were a Bat - you’d faced worse odds than this before. He had to pull himself together and focus on the next step in front of him.

He took a restrained Riddler and shoved him towards Red Robin, trusting his little brother to deal with the villain while he took quick strides towards his motorcycle. He had to get to the bomb site. If he was lucky, you’d greet him with a smile and he could help lighten your load in dealing with the aftermath. If not… If not, then he had to find you. 

When he finally pulled up to the site, having broken multiple traffic laws to get there as soon as possible, he began searching the crowd for you. He looked around desperately for the flash of blue of your costume, but couldn’t spot it in the packed crowd. Damn the whole family for prioritising stealth. He was about to continue weaving his way through the crowd when he was stopped by a young woman surrounded by a gaggle of children. It was times like this that he regretted his reputation as the friendly, approachable Bat, but he knew that you’d want him to stop and help. 

He did his best to hide his desperation to get back to his search and plastered on a fake smile, greeting the woman.

“How can I help?”

“Nightwing!” the woman responded. “I think Nightingale might still be in the building! She helped us all get out but I haven’t seen her since and I think she might have headed back inside. I wanted to tell someone but there was no one to talk to and I left my phone inside but now you’re here and you can find her. Thank god!” the woman started rambling, panic lacing her voice.

Nightwing, for his part, had closed his eyes, fighting to regulate his breathing. There it was. The worst case scenario he had been steadfastly ignoring, all spelled out in front of him. Terror filled his body, sunk into his bones and left his knees weak. He wished he didn’t have to be strong right now. He wished he could fall apart like he so desperately wanted to, that you would be there to hold him close and help him pick up the pieces like you always did. 

But he couldn’t afford to do that, not with your life on the line. Instead, he offers the woman a curt nod of thanks - too preoccupied to be more polite - before spinning on his heel and breaking into a run in the direction of the destroyed building. His eyes scanned the wreckage from afar, looking for any sign of you. He braced himself for the worst, but focused on the flicker of hope in his chest that was the only thing still driving him onwards in that moment. Either way, he promised himself that he would bring you home. 

With no sign of you visible as he came to a stop in front of the pile of rubble, he began wading in to search more thoroughly, careful not to shift the piles of rubble too much just in case. 

Eventually, after what felt like hours (but was probably more like a couple of minutes) of being alone with nothing but piles of concrete and his own anxious thoughts, he saw it. Peeking out through a gap in the rubble, there was a gloved hand with a stripe of blue running up the fingers. An homage to one of his worst looks, you had joked when you first revealed your new suit to him. Although he had acted offended at the time, he was now astonishingly grateful for the pop of colour allowing you to be visible amongst the wreckage.

He raced over and dropped down to his knees in front of you, forcing himself to compartmentalise his own anguish and assess the situation. You were laid out on your front, arm outstretched into the light while your body remained bathed in darkness from the rubble. From where he stood, he couldn’t see much but he did manage to make out enough to tell that you were breathing. Laboured, shallow breathing, but breathing nonetheless. 

The relief was dizzying. His eyes drank in your beautiful features, thankful beyond measure to just be seeing you once again. Although some of your face was covered by your domino, he could see that it was twisted in pain. Right. He had to focus on the task at hand. 

His first priority was to get you out of there. Despite beginning to crawl through the gap in the rubble, almost all of your body was still under concrete. If anything shifted or gave way above you then you would be in serious danger. Luckily, it seemed like there was enough space to pull you through without any trouble. Dick managed to hook his hands underneath your armpits and began pulling you out. 

To his horror, the drag of your body left behind a wet, red smear on the ground. As you were pulled further into the light, the true extent of your injuries became clear. He paled as he observed the mess of your abdomen, cursing as he flipped you over to reveal the exit wound. He was able to spot a number of other injuries as well - a gash on the leg with signs of a crush injury, as well as a dislocated shoulder that his pulling had probably aggravated - but the most pressing issue was the gaping hole in your abdomen.

He began to apply pressure on the wound, desperate to keep as much of your precious lifeblood inside your body as he possibly could, while propping your legs up on a piece of concrete to elevate them. He tried desperately to control the jackrabbit of his heart as he reached his trembling fingers into his pouch, with one hand still applying pressure on the wound. 

He quickly found the supplies he needed and pulled out his emergency trauma dressings, ripping the packet open with his teeth before pressing them to your abdomen. He applied heavy pressure, only distantly registering concern that you were completely unresponsive, despite the fact that it must’ve been extremely painful for you. 

After a few minutes of applying pressure and more dressings, he was finally able to get the bleeding under control enough to be able to bring out the trauma compression bandages. He wrapped them around you briskly, pulling them tight to ensure that they were applying enough pressure on the injury. 

With your wound finally somewhat stabilised, he was able to pull back and assess your other injuries. Something felt off to him as he mentally triaged your injuries. Your shoulder and leg needed treatment, but that could wait until you were back in the Batcave. He mentally winced in sympathy, remembering how you were sick of being benched and couldn’t wait to get back in the field - that certainly wouldn’t be happening any time soon after this.

It was only then as his eyes raked over your body methodically, cataloguing every detail in his mind, that he realised what was wrong. Your chest was no longer rising and falling. His blood ran cold as he rushed to press two fingers to your neck. Nothing. No, no, no! This couldn’t be happening! He cursed his own stupidity and lack of observation - how long had you been like this? What if he was too late? Why was he always too late….

In that moment, he felt like he was moving through molasses, each second stretching out to an agonising eternity as he struggled to move, to act. He crashed to his knees at your side, placing the heel of his clasped hands at your breastbone and pressing down firmly with his body weight. He had to get your heart pumping, had to do something to resuscitate you. Desperation filled his body - he was so close to getting you out of there. So close to wrapping you up in his arms and whisking you back to the manor. But instead here he was on a cold Gotham night, hands covered in your blood as he prayed to whatever deities that would listen for the chance to see your beautiful eyes open once again. 

As he continued on with his chest compressions at a steady pace, he felt the sickening crack of something giving way beneath him. Fuck. He had never hated himself more than in that moment. This was all his fault. He wished beyond anything that he could swap places with you right now - that he could take all of your pain and suffering on himself and save you from it. But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t do anything. And now he can’t even do the one thing he needed to do to keep you alive without hurting you! 

He pushed down the wave of nausea that threatened to swallow him whole and instead tilted your head back, pinched your nose and blew firmly into your mouth. He had to focus and keep going. He can’t allow himself to fail. He won’t. It will destroy him utterly if he does.

“-t’ll be ok. I’m on my way. I’m 3 minutes out. You’re doing so well. Just keep doing what you’re doing. It’ll be ok. I’m on my way. I’m 2 minutes-” 

Just as he was beginning to falter, as doubt began to creep into his mind, he tuned in to a voice over his comms, low, steady and soothing. He didn’t know how long he’d been blocking out the voices for, but from the rasp of the voice it was clear that Batman had been repeating the same words for a while now, trying his best to provide meagre comfort as his son's life fell apart on the other end of the line. 

Clearly, whatever had been blocking Oracle’s signal earlier had been destroyed in the blast, and she had been providing updates to the other Bats, even as Nightwing failed to respond to her words. The idea of her being witness to all of his failures tonight - failures that could cost you your life - made bile rise up in his throat. Maybe if he had actually been listening, he could have got to you sooner. 

He shook his head and refocused on his chest compressions, even as his strength faltered. He couldn’t afford to be distracted or tired. He had to hold out a little bit longer - just 2 minutes, Batman had said. He could do that. With your life on the line, he would do it a thousand times over if he had to.

Even still, when the lights of the Batmobile pulled up beside him, he almost broke down in relief. Holding back a sob, he called out for Batman and when the black cloaked figure made it to your side, he finally allowed himself to collapse and shatter completely. His dad was here. His dad would save the day.

—-

You rose to awareness slowly, reaching through the fuzzy haze to pull yourself to consciousness. The first thing you registered was a faint monotonous beep followed by the woosh of pumping air. Feeling the weight of an oxygen mask on your face, you heaved in a deep breath - what felt like the first one you’d been able to take since the explosion - and finally eased your eyes open. 

You stared up at cold, damp rock which stretched far above your head. You were in the Batcave then - in the medical area, presumably. Glancing down, you saw the extent of it all.

Tubes came out of your hands, your arms, your thighs, seemingly everywhere. Down on your leg you saw a row of neat stitches, caged in by metal pins which snaked around your entire lower leg. You were covered in more bandages than you thought were possible - stark white criss-crossed across your entire centre and yet more white was wrapped around your arm, while a sling held your shoulder securely in place. You reached your good arm up to feel the stitches on the side of your head, wincing as they felt tender under your touch.

At the first sign of movement, Dick bolted upright from where he was sat, hunched over at your bedside. He drank in your presence greedily, as if trying to convince himself that you were real, and not simply a cruel trick of his mind. 

“You’re awake! How are you feeling, love?”

You paused to take stock of your body for a moment. By all means, you felt better than you had any right to feel. Sure, it hurt like a bitch, but it was nothing like the chorus of agony that you expected to be met with. It was probably because Bruce kept the Batcave stocked with the good stuff - that would explain the faint floaty feeling that you couldn’t shake off. 

You unstuck your tongue from the roof of your mouth, wetting your lips before responding.

“Feelin’ great! How’re you doin’ tho?” You asked, offering him a smile as best you could behind the oxygen mask. Although your words slurred, the sentiment behind them was sincere.

Dick looked exhausted, like he hadn’t slept in days - perhaps he hadn’t. Even when he knew he would be in the way, he found it difficult to tear himself from your bedside from the moment you had got back to the Batcave, he couldn’t bear it. Thank god for the Batcave being just as stocked as Gotham General - there would be no way to ensure your identity was safe in the hospital so he was thankful you could be treated at home. That also had the added bonus of him being able to stay by your side the whole time, rather than being constrained to visiting hours. However, that naturally meant that he hadn’t got much sleep over the last few days, aside from a couple naps in the chair he was currently sat in.

Instead, he watched on anxiously as Alfred, Leslie and Bruce had worked tirelessly to save you. They had burned through their entire stock of blood in the Batcave trying to get your heart pumping again, and even then it wasn’t enough. Luckily, Dick was a compatible blood type and, desperate to help in some way, he had jumped at the opportunity to give up his blood for you.

Whilst the two of you were hooked up together through an iv, the eldest three continued their work to get your stabilised. At one point, you had even needed intubation as your lungs failed you. The three of them worked hard to examine and stitch and mend until they were finally able to pull you back together in one piece. 

Dick let out a shaky exhale as he finally received irrefutable proof that you were alive, that you were going to recover. 

The tension that had him wound up like a spring the last few days, had him replaying every last moment in his head, had finally released and he collapsed back into his chair like a puppet with its strings cut. Your blood had haunted him these past few days. It clung to his skin even as he scrubbed himself clean over and over. But finally, seeing you whole and on the road to recovery, he felt his sins wash away in the wake of your smile

“I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me.” he said quickly, before wincing at how short he was being with you. He never wanted to take his turmoil out on you. “Careful-”

At his tone, you began to ease yourself upright in bed to get a better look at him, suppressing a gasp of pain as your abdomen tugged in protest.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, your eyes searching his for any hint of how he’s feeling.

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?!” he started, a note of hysteria creeping into his tone as he fought without success to reign his emotions back in. “You’re here, stuck in a hospital bed and it’s all my fault! You’ve been out for days - we weren’t sure if you would ever wake up. I’ve never been so terrified in my life. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bury another loved one - couldn’t bury you. I just- I almost lost you, and it’s all because of me! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry” he sobbed.

“Shh Dickie, love, it’s ok. I’m alive.” you cooed comfortingly. “Why on earth would you think that it’s your fault?”

“I was in charge of dealing with the Riddler - it was my responsibility. I was the one who took the risk that let him escape and detonate the bombs. And when I came to find you, I was almost too late - your heart stopped and you could’ve died all because of me. I screwed up, and you got hurt because of it.” he muttered miserably. 

Instead of responding, you shifted over to the side and patted the space next to you, knowing that your husband needed more than just words to snap out of his spiral.

“C’mere.” You invited your husband up on the bed, and watched as yearning and concern warred over his features. Your husband had always been a tactile person, and you knew that it was exactly what he was in desperate need of in that moment.

“I can’t! You’re hurt! I don’t want-”

“It’ll hurt me more if I can’t hold you right now. Just get over here.” You cut him off, knowing that it was something he so desperately wanted and needed, despite his protests. 

At your insistence he sighed, recognising a losing battle when he saw it, and carefully clambered up onto the bed. You wasted no time in wrapping your arm around him cautiously, making sure that none of the tubes or wires were tugged. You wished you could lay his head on your chest, but with your other arm in the way you simply settled for making sure that the pulse point at your wrist was free for him if he needed reassurance. You did your best to one-handedly wipe his tears as he sobbed into you.

“Shhh, listen to me for a second, ok honey?

The Riddler did this to me, not you. He is responsible for his own actions and the consequences of them. You don’t need to martyr yourself - and I know you were doing that - over this. Let the blame sit with the person who is responsible, no-one else. You did your best with the information available to you. 

More importantly, you saved my life. You came when no-one else knew to. You looked after me and got me back here and kept me alive. That is worth so much more than whatever mistake you blame yourself for. None of us blame you for that mistake, but I am so incredibly thankful for everything that you’ve done to save me. I just need you to know that.” 

You desperately hoped that he would take your words to heart - that he would stop taking on the weight of the world on his own two shoulders. At his wet sniffle you continued:

“The last few days must’ve been so hard for you, right? Thank you for saving me, for pushing through even though it must’ve been horrible for you. You don’t have to be strong anymore, you can let it all out. I’m here.” 

You knew your husband’s tendency to set aside his emotional needs in the face of any mission or duty, and you needed him to know that it was ok to fall apart - that you would be there to catch him. Something anxious in your chest loosened just a fraction when you felt him lean into your shoulder, tears dampening your neck as shudders wracked his body. The thought of him bearing that burden all on his own for so long made your heart ache. You wished you could wrap yourself around him and rock him back and forth, but you settled on nuzzling your head into his and whispering soft reassurances whenever you could.

Dick, for his part, was clinging onto you like you were his lifeline. Even when facing the storm of his emotions, you were his anchor - the lighthouse to guide him home. He was so immensely grateful that you were here, whole and in one piece. But he was also so, so tired - filled with a bone-deep weariness from trying desperately to hold himself together for so long, for his family’s sake, your sake and his own sake. Finally given the chance for catharsis, he felt himself fully fall apart under your watchful protection.

As his tears slowed to a stop, he was filled with a rush of affection and gratefulness. He would never stop being in awe of you. Even though you were the one in the hospital bed, the one with your life clinging to your lips just days before, still hopped up on all manner of painkillers, you still found the strength to be there for him and comfort him. He didn’t know what he did to deserve you but he was immeasurably thankful to have you in his life.

He shifted to wrap his own arms around you - careful not to disturb your injuries - and kissed the side of your head, whispering into your ear. 

“Thank you. Thank you so much for being alive. Thank you for always being there for me and looking after me, even though you must be hurting as well. I love you so so much.”

“I love you too.” you replied, heart feeling so full that it could burst, before snuggling down deeper into his arms.

Even as your in-laws trickled into the room, bringing with them well-wishes, laughter and joy, Dick simply stayed by your side, holding you close and silently vowing that he would always be there to look after you and protect you from ever being hurt like this again.

[jasmines-library]

CAN YOU PLEASE DO SOMETHING WITH OLDER BROTHER DAMIAN WAHNE?? LIKE 11 ISH YEAR OLD READER?? Reader is also an ex child weapon. Just a silent cutie pie. I just wanna see Damian spoiling them. Or something with like reader not following his orders and telling Damian to go away and does reckless stuff that Damian did when he was younger and his older siblings are just laughing at the irony

Brotherly Love

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Note: Sorry again for the wait! but two in one day woo.

Warnings: Just fluffy

Word Count: 800.

ALSO THIS IS MY 100TH FIC 🎉🎉

⛧ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

“If you walk out that door I swear to God-” Damian curses as you slink out of the door of the batcave. He had explicitly told you that he didn’t want you going on this mission because he had deemed it ‘too dangerous’ as soon as Bruce gave the details. For a boy who claimed he ‘didn’t give a shit’ he was rather protective. Of course, being the highly trained, and rather confident 11 year old you are (which basically meant you were an adult) you had decided that you weren’t going to listen to him. With a sly smirk, you slipped out of the door. “God dammit!”

Damian kicks the wheely chair beside him. It slides across the room.  And then there’s laughter.

It was Jason, geared up in his suit, minus the signature hood. He was leaning against the wall, an amused smirk on his face. 

“Finally getting a taste of your own medicine, huh Demon Spawn?”

“What?” Damian half snapped, his temper wearing thin as he spun around to face his brother.

This made Jason’s grin widen. “Don’t act as if you weren’t exactly the same.”

Damian glowered. “That’s different.”

Jason just raised an eyebrow. “Is it?”

“....shut up. Where are you going anyway?” Damian nods towards Jason’s suit. 

“Someone has to go and get them. And it certainly won't be you.”

~

“Hi Dami.” You smiled as you sat yourself beside him on the couch. He was still in a grump, grumbling about your excursion. Jason had gone to find you, but instead of bringing you home, he let you finish the mission. This royally pissed Damian off, and he was almost 100% certain that Jason had done it just to spite him. But as much as he wanted to, Damian just couldn’t stay mad at you. Especially when you looked up at him with those bright and mischievous eyes. You very much reminded your other siblings of Damian when he was your age. Though of course, now he would claim he was all grown up and always has been. And, even though Damian wished he could keep holding his grudge against you, his face couldn't help but melt. 

“Hey, kiddo.” he greeted, looking down at you curiously.

“What are you doing?” You ask. You had always been fond of your older brothers, but you had an especially soft spot for Damian, as he did for you. 

Damian held up the book that he was half reading, but then gestured to the TV that he kept getting distracted by. “I don’t even know why I bothered trying to be honest.”

“Oh.” You acknowledged before reaching forwards to pick up the video game controllers. You raised an eyebrow and held one out for him to take. He snatched it up and turned it on. Damian was very clearly competitive, however he let you win the first few rounds before he decided he had had enough and wanted to take all of the glory for himself. 

At some point, the two of you deemed it time for a break. It didn’t last long, but it gave the two of you long enough to stretch your legs. When you returned, Damian was already back on the couch. On the coffee table he had placed two steaming mugs of hot cocoa, topped with cream and marshmallows. He had also haphazardly placed a bunch of crisps in a bowl and had collected an extensive array of snacks that he had chucked onto the table too. 

You raised an eyebrow, looking curiously at him. 

“What?”

“You got snacks.”

“Yeah….well you looked hungry.”

Your face melted at Damian’s tenderness. Damian rolled his eyes as you took a sip of the hot chocolate, getting whipped cream on your face. He chuckled and gestured for you to wipe it away. You grinned up at him again.

“Thank you, Dami.” you beamed, nudging his side affectionately. 

“Yeah, well. Don’t get used to it.” He grumbled, unable to hide the sliver of a smile creeping up onto his face. 

The two of you eventually fall asleep, still in front of the TV and half gripping the controllers as the game idles on without you. It’s Dick who pokes his head around the door to see what the noise is. He is surprised to see you with your head on Damian’s shoulder as the two of you snooze. With a soft smile, he turns off the TV and places a blanket over the two of you. But not before snapping a quick picture of the two of you which he would definitely use to wind up Damian some point in the not too distant future.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

BATFAM TAGS

@hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx @hell-o-kittys @harleycao @batfamsstuff @alicedawitchbish

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

[euphoria-looney]

Idk if you’ve seen Nosferatu but I think a situation like that could totally apply to (Name).

Brief overview:

In Nosferatu, the main character Ellen grows up feeling lonely and isolated. She pleads for a supernatural being to arrive and comfort her and she wakes up ‘Nosferatu’ who makes her pledge herself to him fully. There’s loads of other stuff as well but I think this main idea would be interesting. Nosferatu in the movie is really, really old and ugly, but I think (Name) deserves a fit, hot vampire boyfriend/husband. But essentially he’s like a Vampire Count, aka Dracula.

How it’s play out:

(Name),as a young child, calls out for ‘Nosferatu’ (or whatever name the vampire will have) and he wakes up. He makes them pledge their complete loyalty to him for all eternally, essentially making them his ‘bride’. (Name) is comforted by him, but this connection fades as they grow older.

Then, when they turn 18, Nosferatu calls out for them in their dreams and travels to Gotham, keeping them in his manor. He’s basically a yandere in the movie anyway, so (Name) is kept quite weak and docile due to his mind control, spending most of their time doting on him or sleeping.

Now, I think it’d be interesting for the Batfam to react because the thing about Nosferatu is that the oath to him MUST be consensual, give or take MAJOR manipulation, but still, (Name) has to willingly go with him. So the Batfam have to come to terms with the fact that (Name) literally chose an obsessive, undead (but fit) vampire husband over them.

And ‘Nosferatu’ is NOT going to play fair if they try and take his bride. Literally no Dracula variant does.

I Asked For a Friend, But Got a Husband?

"I sense her in my mind, she's my collar" She's My Collar (feat. Kali Uchis)

So Much More. (Should I name this something new? Since it's a different AU?)

Special (?)

Divider Creds: @anitalenia and @qqmariztwsse

Being young, barely seen or heard, I could only busy myself with books. Even then how many books could I read before feeling that loneliness knaw on me?

Okay, dramatic I knew but who knew this one feeling would lead me to immediately get married by the age of eighteen?

I know how bad that sounds, trust me, I was the one who experienced it.

"What are you thinking about right now, honey?" I felt arms wrap around me.

Meet Elzire.

(Cred to this art and oc: @♱⋆༒︎Ren༒︎ ⋆♱/lcttuve)

"Nothing much," I replied looking through our mail.

How we met, well I believe it because of this, but don't take my word for it, I might just be delusional.

I had gone to the library and saw [D/D] she ecstatically waved to me before Damian pulled her away giving me a sneer. I waved that off and looked around before spotting a book that I’d never seen before. 

It had a blood red cover and the title ‘Forever’, curious, I opened it. It seemed like a child's story as they had short sentences and photos. It starts with a girl who, one day after being tired of being lonely prays to the gods of her world she doesn’t care who or what they sent no matter what they looked like or how they acted as long as they were her friends, and nice to her at least, she would be happy.

Then it happened, a boy her age descended to her and every day they would play before growing old together.

The end.

I put the book back before returning to what I was originally doing, studying for my next exam.

— 

It had been a good week since I read that fantasy child’s book, and I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I went to the library at night when everyone was either on a mission or asleep and to my surprise the book was gone.

Someone must’ve thrown it out, there’s no reason to keep it here anyone.

I let out a sigh before heading back to my room and though I accepted the book was gone I couldn’t help but wonder, could I do that?

No, that’d be silly.

But…

It never hurts anyone to try.

“Please, whoever is out there, please accompany me and become the pillar I can lean on.” 

.

..

…

Welp I tried, back to sleep I have a piano recital tomorrow no time for these goofy beliefs.

3RD POV

 A figure descended into [name]’s room their black hair fluttered from the wind and their red eyes and fangs glistened in the dark of night, their hands like claws before stepping into the light a little more revealing a tall yet built man he looked angelic despite being a vampire that was friends with a demon, specially Barbatos.

He creeps a little closer to [name]’s room crouching to caress their faces. Making them blink open their eyes.

“... Am I still dreaming?” They question themself. Making the vampire chuckle holding their hands in his and asking.

“Do you mind becoming mine forever?”

“Woah, my wish worked… sure, why not.” He smiled happily placing one of their hands on his cheeks and relished in the warmth that their hand brought to his freezing complexion.

Before they had passed out.

He caught them before they could slam back onto their bed and gently laid them down.

“Don’t miss me too much.”

—

Holy crap what was that dream? 

Maybe I shouldn’t mind it. 

For the next few years, nothing changed except my dreams. Then I turned eighteen and it was out of pure luck that I met him, his name was Elzire.

We got married that same year after a few months of dating which I was totally against but then he convinced me and it hasn’t been like our marriage has been going great. I don’t like that he wanted me to be a stay-at-home wife.

Don’t get me wrong I appreciate him wanting this for me because he doesn’t want any workload on me but I just feel that it’s unfair for him.

Too bad the only payment he wants from me is to do simple household things but even that he just hires some housecleaning or helpers instead of letting me do it and when he comes home to get his pillow, it’s nice to play with his hair, might be better than mine.

Today again though I’m stuck at home and there’s nothing to do as I finished everything, it’s not hard when only two people are living in this house.

I went to look through the mail before finding a letter addressed to me.

It’s from Alfred, but I had never told him where I moved… It’s fine, this is Alfred we’re talking about.

“Dear young master, [name], 

How have you been? It's been 7 years since we last saw you or contacted you, I managed to get a glimpse of you and was able to deliver this to you.

Your family has long awaited meeting you again, if you could give them the chance to see you that would be lovely.

Sincerely, 

Alfred Pennyworth.”

I looked over my shoulder to Elzire before responding.

“I got a letter from my old butler Alfred, saying that my family would like to meet with me again.”

“So suddenly, darling?” He raised his eyebrow at that. Seems he was as lost as I was. I told him everything like he was my therapist so he knew too well himself why this wouldn’t make sense.

-

Despite my hesitance, I decided to go.

"Really Sweetie, you don't have to this isn't something that I would waste my time on, so neither should you." One hand on the steering wheel and the other holding my hand.

"Come on, El, I'm curious, 23 years of my life and only now do they care to see me. Wouldn't you also wonder why?"

"Wonder, not meet. but because I love you and I care for you we'll still go." He squeezed my hand a bit before softening his grip again.

We pulled up on the driveway and saw Alfred come out of the manor.

Elzire got out of the car first before opening the door for me, helping me get out.

I approached Alfred before bringing him into an embrace.

"Alfie, it's been so long." I pulled away before directing his attention to Elzire.

"This is Elzire."

"Pleasure to meet you, young sir." Alfred did his bow before leading us to the living room where the whole family was.

"[name]" [M/D] whispered, tears welling up in her eye, standing up and starting to approach me.

I smiled but didn't reciprocate the hug she was trying to give me.

"[name], we realized our mistake. it's time to come home." Bruce told me.

"Well, as much as I'm... grateful for that offer, I've already moved on and had a life, where you guys no longer matter or are related to me anymore."

"What are you-"

"This is my husband, Elzire. And I don't plan to leave him, for this."

Guys I quit on this if you couldn't notice the ending was rushed so badly, I'm so sorry to the one who sent the request I know this isn't what you would like but I kind of had a mind exploration, and now I have no idea what or how to write this request.

Maybe I'll rewrite this in the future but for now, this is the main result. If you were looking for a confrontation. It's kind of the situation of this Special.

Genuinely y'all could make your own or imagine this scenario. I have no idea what I'm doing anyway, thank you so much for reading this I don't think I'm tagging anybody on this and supporting other batfam authors, especially with all the hate that I've been seeing Luckily I haven't received anything.

Bye-bye, if anything is too unclear and grammatically wrong inform me!

Elzire:

(Cred to this art and oc: @♱⋆༒︎Ren༒︎ ⋆♱/lcttuve)

-ILoveeeMoney

[forwards-beckon-rebound]

batfam as fanfic tropes pt 2

ft bruce, dick, and jason warnings: i continue to give jason all of the angsty stuff but i promise i do it out of love, some suggestive jokes lol pt 1

bruce

not to keep pushing my superbat agenda but that may or may not be what i'm doing

only one bed trope let's go

likeeee yknow imagine they're on an undercover mission with the league or whatever but then they end up stuck in rockville, known for their slightly weird rock

and there's a single motel that only has one room left and of course there's only one bed

to add insult to injury, it's a queen bed and they're both like 6'+ guys so there's absolutely no way they're not gonna at least accidentally make physical contact (it's not gonna be accidental by the end of the night)

something about clark seeing bruce in pj's just seems so funny to me, i don't even have anything else to add

imagine they didn't bring pj's bc they didn't think the mission was going to take that long so they go to the motel's gift shop and they're forced to get cringey tourist shirts

"Rockville may not have much, but we sure rock!"

"Rock on over to Rockville"

we all know bruce technically doesn't haveeeee to sleep for 8 hours straight (and ig clark doesn't have to either? but i haven't read enough superman stuff to know how true that is) but i like the idea of him just sleeping anyways

and clark doesn't know any better so he's like yeah ok makes sense that he would need to sleep, he is human after all

bruce may act like he's bothered by this but like he's fooling nobody

i think it would be so funny if clark actually does manage to fall asleep but because bruce almost never sleeps for this long unless he's critically injured, he's just like lying there in the dark freaking out over being in the same bed as clark

bruce discovers fanfic of himself but it's not even in our universe, it's just gothamites writing fanfics about him

there's bruce wayne x reader, bruce wayne x oliver queen, bruce wayne x lois lane (clark is not happy about this), bruce wayne x nightwing??????, batman x every member of the justice league, and of course bruce wayne x batman

babs probably knew all along but she decides to wait until she finds something particularly scandalous before showing it to bruce

and let's just say some writers sure have creative imaginations when it comes to uh what bruce and batman would be doing behind closed doors

i'm just imagining one day he's on patrol and saves some random person from getting mugged and then they're suddenly like, "wow i never thought i'd actually get to meet you. i'm a big fan. can i ask you some questions?"

and yknow, this happens sometimes. sure he'll entertain the questions, but he probably won't answer

"i actually write fanfic but i was having some trouble with your characterization. do you think you're more of a top or bottom?"

bruce.exe has stopped working

wait until he finds the fan art

dick

your siblings are best friends

hear me out, you have a younger sister who happens to be in the same after school art club as damian

and of course, being the good older sibling you are, you come to pick her up

but it certainly doesn't hurt to see dick grayson every week, waiting for his younger brother

at first he's just some handsome stranger who happens to be around the same age as you

and you're trying to figure out if he's here for his sibling or if he's just a very very young parent

thankfully, your sister introduces you to damian and by proxy you properly meet dick so you know he's not taken

and it's hard not to fall for him because he's just so funny and charming

and he's good with kids, as evident by how he handles damian but also one day when your sister comes out of art club sobbing because some kid messed with her artwork and he's able to calm her down in record time

he offers to get her ice cream as consolation but he's weirdly making eye contact with you as he says that and maybe you're just delusional but between this and the flirting you can't be blamed for feeling a certain way about the whole thing

but things frustratingly don't progress any further (mostly because dick thinks he's been pretty clear with the flirting and decides to back down because you don't seem to be reciprocating, whereas you're completely oblivious to the whole thing) so it's up to damian and your sister to take things into their own hands

cue the random playdates where they insist that you and dick both come for supervision or something while they draw and banish you and dick to another room because they need "pure artistic energy" in the room or whatever

and funnily enough the other room just so happens to have a candlelit dinner for two set up! wow, what a coincidence!

you guys have a very well cooked steak and talk things over (read: your siblings both yell at you from the other room to just confess already)

honestly, they're both pretty done with your antics but at least you're together now!

if you don't mention both of them in your wedding speeches there will be consequences

jason

who else would get hanahaki disease if not jason todd

for those who were not in the trenches of 2010’s anime fanfics, hanahaki disease is a fictional disease where you cough up flowers if your love is unrequited or like you think your love is unrequited

i just know this loser wouldn’t even realize he likes you until he starts coughing up random flowers and he’s like wtf????

it does not take a tim drake to figure out who he likes so ofc the last people to notice are him and you

also you just know he’s the type to suffer in silence instead of confess bc he thinks he’s burdening you with his feelings or like he doesn’t lead the type of life that can allow him to have a relationship or whatever emo edge lord stuff he does

also i think he is incapable of flirting LMAO

honestly, even if you confessed i can see him being like "how can you possibly love me, you must be confused"

normally the confession scene is where the sick person gets cured and like they get together

but nope! jason just straight up refuses bc ofc he does

good luck trying to convince him that you do like him, flaws and all

GET THIS DUDE HIS COLLEGE!AU

not to be dramatic but i desperately want him to have a happy and normal life so this one might be a bit of wish fulfilment on my behalf but like

once again i feel like he would actually want to go to college/uni

like will he complain about his assignments and exams? yes but don't we all?

i feel like he would just take courses he would like, so probably a lot of literature stuff

i think it would be very funny if he took one of those psychology courses, think like PSYCH 21XX: The Maladaptive Mind or smth and he's like "wow these trauma responses sound awfully familiar. wonder where i've heard about this before"

anyways i'm thinking about him being a humanities guy and then he meets you, a stem student who has to take this one english class to graduate

and he's also in a similar boat and is in your biology class for the science credit

so you guys decide to just study together and help each other out

and he may or may not catch feelings but it's hard not to when you have similar taste in books and can talk about a random poem you read in class for an hour

jason todd who gets rizzed up by your annotations

but then like halfway through second semester he realizes that you've hung out just for fun more often than you've actually hung out to study

and ofc there's a dramatic confession scene at graduation and he's stumbling over his words and god he might end it all because his family is there and freaking dick grayson is watching him confess to his crush

but like it's hard not to figure it out when he basically acts like your boyfriend on your "study dates" and honestly you already kinda figured you at least had something sort of going on and this confession is not shocking in the slightest

so that was super embarrassing for him but at least he's got a date next week?

hear me out...if you got into an accident and then developed retrograde amnesia

he's already stressed enough about the fact that you got injured in the first place

like what is the point of all of his training and patrolling to keep gotham safe if he can't even keep the person who's the most important to him safe?

then you wake up and he's so relieved he could cry

he thinks you're just a bit disoriented as he pulls you into his arms, promising he's never going to put you in a situation like that ever again

only for you to stare blankly at him

"i'm sorry, who are you?"

he thinks he would rather die and reincarnate again than live with the way you're looking at him

you're not even mad at getting hurt. you don't even remember that. you're just...looking at him like he's nothing more than a stranger because right now, that's what he is

i think his insecurities would be amped up to 100x after this, even if you did agree to come home with him and try to regain your memories

he's constantly praying that this is some messed up nightmare because he doesn't even know why you agreed to date him the first time around

so how is he supposed to make you fall for him again?

it's even worse because you are trying and you feel bad about it, but anytime he gets too close, he can see the way you flinch slightly

honestly he's going to start spiraling, like questioning whether he even deserves you or what he's doing wrong

is it because you don't know him? is he scaring you in some way? he would never hurt you, but that's all he's ever known. it was nice to live in this fantasy, but maybe all he was doing was delaying the inevitable

he starts to wonder if maybe he should just let you go now, while you don't remember anything. just thinking about it makes him want to claw his heart out but if it would keep you safe, he'd be willing to give you anything

< prev | m.list

[lazycats-stuff]

I'd like to request batfam x male reader, who crotchets a lot. He has some medical issues, so he doesn't go on patrol, he helps out with information gathering though.

When Damian got added to the strays, the reader tried being a good older brother, and he crochets him a little stuffed animal for him as a welcome gift. Everyone in the family has one, even Alfred. Let's say, Damian had a bad day, and coincidentally the reader just finished the crochet animal and goes to his room to give it to Damian. Damian snaps and destroys the stuffed animal in front of the reader, also saying some pretty hurtful stuff. The reader cries because it took a lot of time to male it. You can end it however you want

Take your time <3

Sure. Oh Damian is so dead. Nobody messes with (Y/N).

Summary: Damian messes with the wrong brother.

Warnings: angst, fluff, reader is a sweetheart, everyone loves the reader, unspecified medical problems...

(Y/N) sometimes envied his brothers. If it weren't for his medical problems, he would have been out and running, fighting crimes. But he was still happy with his position as Oracle number two, helping Alfred out when it came to patrol and information gathering.

" Can I get you some more tea, master (Y/N)? " Alfred asked him, standing up.

" Please do. " (Y/N) said, giving Alfred his favorite mug.

(Y/N) turned his head back to the computer, rubbing his eyes. He yawned, putting his hand over his mouth.

" Tired? " Alfred asked as he poured some tea.

" A little bit. " (Y/N) answered.

" Guys, we need access to GCPD data base. " Bruce said through the comms.

" You have an access to it, why do we have to? " (Y/N) asked, confused. Alfred came back with tea, also confused.

" Something is jamming the access. " Bruce explained further. (Y/N) put the tea aside, trying to get into the said database.

" Hmm. Something is happening with the network. It's down... " (Y/N) said, confused.

" I would go to GCPD and check it out. " (Y/N) said, taking his tea.

" Alright, will do. "

With that, it was quiet and they knew that this was in one way or another it for the night. (Y/N) glanced at the crocheted bat he made for Bruce.

(Y/N) had a little bit of tradition for everybody. He makes little stuffed animals. Every single member has one, even Alfred. He would make it for everyone who would come into the family, just to feel welcome.

And it did work. It made all of them feel nice and welcoming. And it made them like (Y/N) and it made everyone more protective of (Y/N). Jason took the number one spot at the amount of protectiveness he had for (Y/N).

Everything changed when Bruce announced he had a biological son. With Talia al Ghul. (Y/N) didn't know what to think about it. Bruce was always saying to use protection, so how did it happen? As a playboy, you are supposed to be a careful person when it comes to sex.

" I'm sorry, how did Damian happen? You are usually the one telling us to watch ourselves, you know, use protection amongst other things. " (Y/N) asked, taking a sip of his tea.

" Talia spiked my drink. " Bruce said, making Jason snort. (Y/N) smacked him on the arm.

" I'm sorry, but how didn't you notice it? " Jason questioned, trying not to lose control again.

" Jason not now. Damian is in the cave, Alfred is going to bring him up. Please be nice. " Bruce said, sighing as he heard Alfred coming.

Everyone turned their heads to see Alfred walking in with a small boy with green eyes and who eerily looked like Bruce at that age. (Y/N) knew because he saw the pictures once. Alfred showed him the photos.

" Everyone, this is master Damian. Master Damian these are master Jason, master (Y/N), master Tim and master Dick. " Alfred introduced Damian to everyone.

Damian didn't say anything, instead he turned back to Alfred to ask him to show him his room.

" I don't know about you, but this is going to be interesting. " Jason said to (Y/N).

" I think he just needs to adjust. It's never easy to come somewhere new. " (Y/N) replied, taking another sip of his tea.

" Will he get a stuffed animal too? " Jason asked, standing up.

" Yup. It's a tradition here so... " (Y/N) said, trailing off.

" If you say so. " Jason said, watching as (Y/N) took last sips of his tea before putting the mug into the sink.

" Any chance I can ask you to help me with a case? " Jason tried as they were going to their rooms.

" Nope. I need my sleep. " (Y/N) said, opening his bedroom door.

" You are mean. " Jason said, chuckling. " Good night. "

" Good night Jay. "

It has been a couple of weeks and (Y/N) finally finished up his stuffed animal for Damian. He made a Robin stuffed animal in his colors. Well, the suits color. Green and red with a R to symbolize the Robin. He was happy with his creation and was now actively looking for Damian.

What (Y/N) didn't know however, was the fact that Damian had a very bad day. To put it bluntly, everything went to shit. Absolutely everything that Damian had planned went to shit. Absolutely everything and there was nothing he could have done to prevent it.

Coincidently, (Y/N) decided to gift the stuffed animal to Damian. He knocked on Damian's door, entering after hearing a harsh what. (Y/N) entered the room, holding his bird in his hands.

" So, we have a tradition here where I make newcomers stuffed animals. So here is yours. "

" I don't need that right now! And I don't need something from someone so worthless to the family! " He yelled grabbing the stuffed bird, ripping it apart.

(Y/N) was heartbroken. He slowly stepped out, closing the door before he started crying in the hall.

" (Y/N), what's wrong?! " Jason asked, confused. He just came from the dining room and seeing his favorite brother sad was something that should be illegal. (Y/N) shook his head, running to his room and slamming the door shut.

Jason scowled, wondering what made (Y/N) upset. Well, who made him upset... He looked at Damian's door and went there. He opened the door and his eyes feel down onto the remains of (Y/N)'s stuffed animal. He looked up at Damian before he jumped at him.

The two started fighting. Jason was blinded with anger and rage, punching wherever he could. Bruce heard the commotion and when he saw what was happening, he had to tear Jason off of Damian.

It was difficult to separate them, but once he did, he was pissed. Beyond angry.

" WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING?! " Bruce yelled, mad now.

" He took (Y/N)'s animal and tore it apart! He is heartbroken! You didn't saw him when he started crying! " Jason yelled back, face bloody. The kid can definitely punch.

" Out. I will talk to Damian. " Bruce said calmly. Jason wiped his nose, going straight to the bathroom in his room to clean it up.

He can't allow his brother to see him bloody. He really can't. He washed his face and once he made sure that he has stopped the bleeding, he went to (Y/N)'s room. He opened the door and his heart broke.

(Y/N) was still crying on the bed, curled into a fetal position.

" Oh (Y/N)... Come here. " Jason said softly. (Y/N) sniffed and turned to face Jason. Jason sat down on the edge. (Y/N) moved closer and put his head in Jason's lap.

" Why did he do that? I just tried to be nice... " (Y/N) asked and Jason gently scratched (Y/N)'s scalp.

" I know that. Damian is just Damian... " Jason said, knowing that (Y/N) doesn't like when they are talking negatively about Damian. Or any of them.

Jason stayed like that for a couple of hours and (Y/N) fell asleep during that. Jason didn't mind, but he had to move. He gently put (Y/N)'s head on a pillow. He covered him and left the room.

He didn't expect to see Damian in the hall.

" What do you want? " Jason asked quietly, not to disturb (Y/N).

" I wanted to... Apologize. "

" Did Bruce make you do that? " Jason said, not believing a single word that came out of Damian's mouth.

" No. I just had a bad day and I let it out on the wrong person. " Damian said, meaning every word of it.

" Well, don't wake him up now. You know, everyone has a stuffed animal made by (Y/N). Even Alfred. " Jason said. " Bruce has one near the Batcomputer and sometimes takes it with him somewhere important. He took it to outer space once. " Jason wasn't sure why he was telling that to Damian, but it felt important that he knows. " Again, don't wake him up. " Jason said, leaving Damian.

Damian had no plans on doing it.

[fictionalcharacters-mybeloved]

Creppy Old Guy

I was listening to "Creppy old guy" from the Beetlejuice musical and then I remembered "Lolita" by Lana del Rey while I was here and reading DPxDC stuff so…

Danny and Vlad meeting the Batfam.

Bruce knows Vlad is a somewhat harmless weirdo and his kids pick up on it almost instantly, so all good as long as they stay away from him, right?

Well no, because Vlad starts getting even weirder by talking about how one of Bruce's kids looks like his dear Daniel (the emphasis on his raises red flags even in people who don't go out kicking criminals at night), charmingly talking about how nice he is when he's not being a tantruming brat and then he calls the kid and there he is, the much mentioned "dear Daniel" appears, wearing heavily covered clothes (because he doesn't want his ghost wrestler bruises to show, thank you), looking very uncomfortable when Vlad puts a hand on his shoulder and dwarfing himself (he doesn't want to be here, but he's going to do it for Ellie, because she wants to go to school and he just has to avoid ripping Vlad's hand off with his teeth) while seeming to want to say something but noticeably clamming up while watching the older man out of the corner of his eye ("it's Danny, damn it" is what doesn't come out of his lips).

Bonus: someone from the Batfam "overhears" Danny and Vlad talking about a girl named "Ellie" and how Danny only stays with him because of the girl, because one of the two has to be a good father… Danny is 15 years old.

Or if this happens with Plasmius and Phantom I want the Batfamily to freak out because here they are meeting this adorable little dead teenager that almost everyone loves (because Damian tolerates him just because of Cujo, he doesn't like Danny, shut the fuck up) and then there goes the aforementioned teenager spouting things like "Plasmius keeps pestering me to live with him and I already told him that if our daughter ran away from him, what makes him think I'd want to live (heh) with him? " and "Who is Ellie? Oh, it's my daughter (they repeated that joke so much that now it's an automatic answer), it was a surprise, especially because Plasmius did it without my consent but I still love her" and we can't forget "Dan was the product of a horrible moment in my life that I hope doesn't happen and I don't want to talk about, I'll just say that the most shocking thing about him is that although he had things of mine he looked a lot like Vlad".

Danny doesn't say it with bad intentions, but referring to Dan and Ellie as his children helps him to overcome a little bit the trauma of his creations, neither is his intention to make Vlad look so bad, that's totally the other halfa's fault, no one told him to act (and be) like a freak.

[eatzyuu]

this is just nonsense crack, but i think it would be funny if jason was an angry crier. like- before all the red hood stuff when he was still robin, if dick made him mad (sibling things, of course), he'd just sort of stand there in all of his anger and start sniffling with tears running down his cheeks. and dick, not having expected his little brother to start crying after messing with him, just sort of watches in a kind of baffled worry. and i imagine, in this same circumstance, bruce walking in and automatically turning his half disappointed and half annoyed gaze to dick, assuming that he'd done something horrible to little jason (they had been bothering each other, dick was just better at making jason angry).

and maybe, even as red hood, as grown as jason is, sometimes, when he gets especially angry, he still does cry. but most of the time, it's hidden with his helmet.

it's never really me posting if i don't add some sort of batfam angst: so i think when jason and bruce have their usual arguments at the manor, after an especially difficult argument, tears start to fall from jason's eyes. at first, neither bruce or jason say anything about it. they just stand still, angry glares locked onto one another. but bruce's eyes soften as tears continue to stream onto jason's cheeks. jason, seeing bruce's worried change in expression, turns away from him, wiping the tears from his face hastily, wanting to avoid looking weak or showing emotion in front of bruce. he doesn't want bruce to see him like this.

but all bruce can see at the sight of jason's tears is that little boy who loved to read in the manor's library and would get in playful arguments with his older brother; who he looked up to greatly. and bruce wonders to himself in that moment. did he do something wrong? had he said something that made jason upset? had he done something that would envoke such emotion from jason? from his son?

and bruce would put a hand on jason's shoulder in an attempt at comfort, but as always, jason shakes off the expression of care and walks out of the manor. avoiding any attempts by bruce to get him to stay and talk about it.

as he drives off on his motorcycle, the tears don't stop. he's angry. so horribly angry. at bruce. at himself. at the fact that arguing with bruce could get him so angry he'd cry the same way he would when he was younger. then his angry tears would turn into tears of an unfamiliar emotion when he thought about the look on bruce's face when he'd seen that jason was crying. it was a look that a father would give to his child. an expression that held both affection and distress at his discomfort. did he manage to surprise bruce? was jason... sad?

(i might've gotten a bit carried away with this one lol. half way through, i was definitely tempted on just turning this into a fic instead. but i suppose i prefer short form content like this, since i am already working on a few personal works at the moment. perhaps i will consider making a fic based off of this post when i am feeling up to a break in my current writing.)