#romantic batfam

[myerssimp21]

Iceberg's Jewel pt. 1

This is just another idea rattling around in my head! While this is still yandere Batfam, the premise is slightly different—here, they haven’t quite met you yet. The focus starts with Oswald Cobblepot and the Iceberg Lounge, but trust me, the Batfamily won’t be far behind. Timeline-wise, this would technically come first, even though in my other yandere Batfam fics, Tim and Jason have already had their moments with you. So yes, there will be a plot hole later where they’ve somehow already hooked up with you—just roll with it. Consider it canon-ish, but mostly just me playing around with ideas. tl;dr: This is a prequel of sorts to my other yandere Batfam fics, but I’m mostly here to have fun with the concept. Hope you enjoy! 💙 word count: 3201

Oswald Cobblepot prided himself on running a tight ship. The Iceberg Lounge was a beacon of opulence in Gotham, catering to a clientele that wanted their danger with a side of champagne. When he put out that little “Help Wanted” sign as a joke—an amusing way to signal to the people he was looking for that he was ready to onboard—he hadn’t expected someone like you to waltz in.

You were nervous but bright-eyed, clutching a copy of your résumé (how quaint) in one hand, wearing a Gotham University sweater that screamed student loans and part-time hustle. The smile you gave him when he walked into the lounge floor was disarming—too genuine for this city. You asked to speak to someone about the janitorial position, and Os had to bite back a laugh.

“A janitor? Here? Sweetheart, you might be too good for this place,” he muttered under his breath, too quietly for you to hear, before waving a hand dismissively at one of his goons. “Send her to my office.”

His office wasn’t where interviews were usually held—far too personal, far too… revealing. But for some reason, he wanted to gauge you himself. Maybe it was your naivete; maybe it was the way your gaze lingered on the crystal chandeliers and plush carpets like you’d never seen luxury this close before. You were looking at him as a normal boss, not a criminal mastermind, and he realized he might like that.

By the time you’d been seated in the chair across from his polished mahogany desk for only 15 minutes, he was already hooked. He asked simple questions at first—your availability, your experience—but quickly veered into territory that let him know more about you. Your classes at Gotham U were interesting, but you worked too much to fully appreciate them. You loved your psychology major but struggled with scheduling, hoping that the pay here was more than the measly pay you scrounged from your other two jobs. He listened with great interest as you spoke of your genuine excitement to be working in a "classy place like this."

He didn’t have the heart to tell you this place wasn’t really classy—just good at pretending.

Cobblepot tilted his head, the curiosity in his expression sharpening as he tapped a finger against the arm of his chair. “You’re not from here, are you?” he asked, a sly grin forming. “So, what do you think of our little city?”

“Oh, uh…” You laughed nervously, shifting in your seat. “It’s… something, that’s for sure. Gotham’s kinda like… I don’t know, a scrappy mutt? It bites, like, a lot, but you can’t help but wanna pet it anyway. It’s scrappy and loveable.”

Oswald chuckled, the sound low and genuine. “Lovable?” he repeated, shaking his head. “You’re a strange one. Most people run for the hills when it comes to Gotham.”

“Yeah, well…” You shrugged, the faintest smile tugging at your lips. “I’m already here, so I might as well figure it out, y’know? Plus, it’s not all bad. I mean, the people are tough, and the city’s got… personality. A weird, messed-up personality, but still.”

He found himself appreciating your honesty. It was a rare thing in his world—people who weren’t either trying to butter him up or wring him dry. And that smile… Hm. Something about it didn’t belong here.

Then, the door to his office slammed open. A goon stumbled in without so much as a knock, huffing like a dog chasing its own tail as he fumbled a thick stack of papers in his hands.

Oswald snapped to attention so fast it was animalistic. One second, he was relaxed, bemused by you—the next, his face contorted with fury, his lips curling back in a snarl that made the dim office feel suddenly suffocating.

“What?” Cobblepot snarled, his tone cutting like ice. The very air in the room seemed to turn electric, humming with the promise of violence.

The goon froze mid-step, eyes darting between you and his boss. He looked like he’d just walked into an execution chamber by mistake.

Oswald’s teeth clenched so tight a vein throbbed visibly in his temple. “You knock before coming into my office,” he seethed, voice dropping to something far more dangerous than the initial explosion. Cold. Calculating. A blade slipping between ribs. “You wait. You don’t—”

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw you.

Frozen.

Wide-eyed.

And just like that, the change was immediate.

His snarl vanished. The storm passed in an instant, like flicking off a switch. The barely-contained rabid rage that had been twisting his face smoothed into something almost… embarrassed. Guiltily casual.

Cobblepot glanced back at you, then at the goon, then back at you. For a brief, telling second, he looked—not regretful, but calculating. Then he sighed through his nose, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking off an unpleasant thought.

"Handle it later," he ordered, voice abruptly warm. Silk-soft. As if he hadn’t just been inches from taking a man’s head off. His hand flicked lazily toward the door, a dismissive gesture. “Can’t you see I’m with someone?”

The goon scuttled out of the room like a kicked dog, the papers in his hands rustling violently as he clutched them to his chest.

The moment the door shut, Oswald let out a measured breath, as if centering himself. Then, in a whiplash-inducing shift, he turned back to you with an awkward, almost sheepish smile.

"Sorry about that,” he said, voice dripping with artificial sweetness, as if his outburst had never happened. He waved a hand, dismissing it entirely, his gaze keenly watching your expression for any lasting tension. “Some of my employees just don’t have any manners.”

You offered a polite, thin smile, still shaken, but brushed it off with a shrug. You had already figured this place wasn’t exactly warm and welcoming, but the speed at which his fury had vanished was... unsettling.

Oswald noticed.

He noticed everything.

And for the first time in a long, long while… he wasn’t sure if he liked the way your smile still had a hint of nerves clinging to it.

The Batcave was unusually quiet, save for the faint tapping of Tim’s keyboard and the low hum of the monitors. Bruce sat at the console, watching the live feed from Oswald Cobblepot’s office. You were seated across from the Penguin, a mixture of nerves and polite excitement etched on your face. The Iceberg Lounge’s chandelier lights reflected in your wide eyes as you gestured animatedly, your Gotham University sweater and résumé betraying your earnestness in a city that thrived on deception.

“Can’t decide if she’s brave or just clueless,” Tim remarked, leaning back slightly as he toggled between camera feeds. “She walked into Cobblepot’s lair with a résumé. A résumé, Bruce.”

“She’s a student trying to make ends meet. That’s not bravery—it’s necessity.”

Damian’s voice crackled through the comms. “She really responded to a ‘help wanted’ ad? Tt. Typical. Of course that bloated bird would choose a naive one. She’ll probably end up scrubbing vomit out of his VIP lounge carpets.”

Tim tutted thoughtfully at Damian’s comment. “I mean��..he’s probably aiming higher than janitorial work for her. Did you hear the way he sweetened his voice?”

Damian scoffed but didn't reply. 

A new voice broke in over the comms—Dick, speaking from his position on patrol. “You think she knows what she’s getting into? Working there isn’t exactly safe.”

“She doesn’t,” Bruce answered simply, “But that doesn’t make her unique. Plenty of people stumble into Gotham’s underworld without realizing it. We can’t save everyone.”

Tim muttered, “Still doesn’t mean we should ignore it. If Penguin’s targeting her for something, we’ll want to know why.”

Damian chimed in again, his tone slightly mocking. “We already know why, Drake. He likes his toys naïve, optimistic, and disposable. She won’t last a week before she gets a reality check—or worse.”

Bruce’s eyes flicked toward the feed as Cobblepot stood, offering you a hand and gesturing toward the door. “They’re moving,” Bruce said. “Tim, keep the office feed rolling, and find another camera angle.” 

“We won’t have audio and depending on where he’s taking her, I’m not sure we’ll have visuals either.”

There was a moment of silence, the kind that spoke volumes in the Batcave.

Dick broke it. “She’s smart enough to know what Cobblepot is, right? I mean, who walks into the Iceberg Lounge thinking it’s just a nightclub?”

“People who don’t know Gotham,” Tim replied, scrolling through files, soaking in what he can on you. “..She’s a psych major at Gotham U, full-time. She’s been juggling two jobs already, so she’s probably just desperate for the paycheck.”

Damian’s tone turned sharper. “Desperation or not, she’s still a fool. You don’t wear a sweater with your university’s name on it when you waltz into the lion’s den.”

Tim smirked. “Guess she didn’t take Gotham’s prerequisite: Street Smarts 101.”

The screen now displayed the empty office, Cobblepot’s desk abandoned. You were out of their sight, and for the moment, out of their reach. But the Batfamily wasn’t about to let you disappear into the darkness of Gotham without a trace. Tim was scrambling to find a feed that would give them info as to where Cobblepot’s taking you, but at the very least, they have relevant info on you.

Dick’s voice again. “Did you hear her in that interview? ‘Lovable but scrappy.’” He smiled faintly at the words. “She actually likes Gotham. We should keep it that way.”

Tim again, confirming some details. “Transferred to Gotham U from out of state. No criminal record, no red flags.”

Damian’s voice cut in, sharp and dry. “Other than walking into the Iceberg Lounge with a résumé. That’s a red flag for stupidity.”

Dick countered, his tone softer now. “She doesn’t know any better. Give her a break.”

Jason laughed, his voice snarky over the comms line from his own patrol. “Oh, sure, Grayson. Let’s all gather around and shield her from the big bad city. What’s next, care packages?”

Dick sighed audibly, “Don’t you have a crime boss to scare right now?”

Jason chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Already done. You should’ve seen the look on his face. Priceless.” Another faint noise came through, likely the reloading of a gun.

Bruce’s voice cut through before Dick could respond. “Enough. Focus, Jason.”

“Whatever you say, B,” Jason replied breezily, though the teasing lilt was still in his voice. “I’ll keep an eye out, too, just in case our scrappy little friend stirs up any trouble at the Iceberg.”

Damian snorted. “I’ll enjoy seeing Cobblepot’s face when she quits.”

Bruce didn’t respond right away. His eyes lingered on your face, captured mid-smile on the monitor. Quietly, he murmured, “She’ll need another job. A safe one. I’m sure Wayne Enterprises will have something available for her.”

“Keep me updated,” Batman ordered as he stood, his cape swishing as he headed toward the Batmobile. “If she gets in over her head, we’re pulling her out. No debates.”

Damian’s voice came back, quieter this time, reluctant. “She’s already in over her head.”

Little did they know, Oswald Cobblepot’s schemes for you were the furthest thing from exploitative labor. In his mind, the idea of you actually toiling away with a mop and bucket was quickly becoming unthinkable—borderline offensive, even.

The moment he saw the way your eyes sparkled with hope and determination, and saw the way you'd listed your good grades on your resume in a hopeful attempt at impressing him and proving your aptitudes, he’d decided he’d let you sleep on the job if you wanted to. Hell, he’d set up a whole suite in the back of the Lounge if it kept you close and content. You could waste time dusting the empty liquor shelves or filing nonexistent paperwork all day if it made you feel productive. What mattered to him wasn’t what you did—it was that you were here, where he could keep an eye on you.

But of course, Cobblepot wouldn't admit that to himself. Not yet, at least. No, this was just “good business,” he rationalized. You were a valuable asset—your charm and friendliness were enough to lighten up even the Iceberg’s darkest corners. You had a way of making the whole place feel... welcoming and warm, like you were untouched by Gotham’s grime and crime. Plus you wanted to be productive. He scoffed under his breath, amused. Of course one of the first fresh faces ready to work at the Lounge was also someone who he didn’t dream of involving in his actual operations. Just his luck.

So, if you decided you needed an afternoon nap in the dusty janitorial closet? He’d send a goon to bring you a pillow. If you scoured the cleaning supply catalog for hours without actually ordering anything? He’d find it endearing. As long as you were happy and oblivious to the underworld swirling just beneath the Lounge’s polished surface, you could do whatever you wanted.

Unbeknownst to them all, while they debated your safety, Oswald was sitting back in his office, already plotting ways to make your life easier. Sure, he’d keep up the charade of being your boss for now—keep you busy with harmless tasks so you didn’t get suspicious. But he wasn’t about to let you work too hard. Not his sweet, naive new hire.

You didn’t belong in Gotham’s shadows. And as far as Oswald Cobblepot was concerned, he’d make sure you never had to find out just how dark they could get. Or at least, he’d try. 

By the time Oswald walked you to the janitorial closet—a tiny, forgotten room in the back of the lounge—he was already plotting how to keep you close. The closet was practically empty, a detail that normally wouldn’t bother him, but the way your face fell at the sight made him want to slap whoever was supposed to manage the damn place.

"Um… is this where I’m supposed to… work?" you asked softly, your voice unsure as you peeked into the empty closet. Your eyes darted around, taking in the barren shelves and dusty floor, as though you’d missed some hidden stash of supplies. "It just… doesn’t look ready yet?"

"Ah… this won’t do," he said quickly, covering his irritation with a smooth smile. "Looks like someone’s dropped the ball here. Don’t you worry about this, darlin’. I’ll get one of my guys on it—someone reliable. You’ll have everything you need to get started." 

His tone was honeyed, and though he aimed for casual reassurance, his sharp eyes flickered to the shelves like he wanted to set the whole closet ablaze for offending you. For fuck’s sake.

“No, no, this won’t do at all,” Oswald said again, shaking his head and clucking his tongue like he was personally offended by the state of the janitorial closet. “You deserve better than this mess, darlin’. I’ll have it sorted by tomorrow, you have my word.”

You blinked at him, “If you want me on the job today, I can make something work,” you offered tentatively, gesturing toward the dusty shelves. “I’ve been in worse spots before.” You gave him a sheepish smile, trying to seem accommodating.

Cobblepot scoffed softly, waving a dismissive hand. “No, no, absolutely not. I won’t have my new employee starting off in such... subpar conditions. It’s a poor reflection on me, and I can’t have that, now can I?” He straightened his tie with an air of exaggerated importance before leaning on his cane. “Here’s what we’ll do instead. You take the night to get familiar with the Lounge—on the house, of course. Have some drinks, relax, mingle a bit. Consider it my way of welcoming you to the team.”

You blinked again, even more confused. “Oh, um, that’s really generous, but shouldn’t I, like… fill out some paperwork first? Or sign something?”

Oswald chuckled, a warm, low sound that almost made you feel silly for asking. “Paperwork? We’ll handle all that boring nonsense tomorrow. No need to rush into the dull parts of the job, eh?” He gestured toward the door, ushering you back into the main lounge. “For tonight, enjoy yourself. Swing by the bar, meet some of the staff, maybe say hello to the security team. It’s important to me that you feel comfortable at the Iceberg.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if this was some sort of test, but his expression was disarmingly sincere. “Well… if you’re sure…”

“Positive,” he interrupted, clapping a hand on your shoulder with surprising gentleness. “Now, off you go. The night’s young, and the Lounge is at your disposal.”

As you stepped out of the closet and back into the opulent main floor, you glanced over your shoulder to see him watching you with a smile that seemed too genuine for someone of his reputation. You didn’t know him, but you’d heard some things. 

Unbeknownst to you, Cobblepot wasn’t just offering you free alcohol or a night to relax—he was staking his claim. He wanted you to feel at home, to see the Lounge as a safe haven, a place you’d always want to return to. Sure, there’d be paperwork eventually, but for now, the only thing that mattered was keeping you here, comfortable and unaware of the darker dealings hidden beneath the glamour.

Tim leaned back in his chair, toggling between the camera feeds inside the Iceberg Lounge. He was alone in the Batcave now, the others out on patrol in the city. “Well, there she is,” he muttered, zeroing in on his view of you at the bar. You were perched on a sleek barstool, your Gotham University sweater a stark contrast to the high-end fashion of the Lounge’s usual clientele. “She’s… drinking. A lot.”

Jason, freshly back from patrol—or what little of it he actually bothered to finish—sauntered into the Batcave, pulling off his helmet and setting it down with a thud. “That’s her?” he asked, nodding toward the screen.

“Yeah,” Tim replied without looking away. “You decided to show up?” His eyes flickered to the time down at the bottom of his monitor. "Thirty minutes early? B's not gonna be thrilled."

Jason ignored the jab, stepping closer to get a better look. “Huh,” he muttered, crossing his arms as his sharp eyes drank you in. You were laughing at something the bartender said, your cheeks flushed. You gestured animatedly with your glass while saying something they couldn't hear. “She doesn’t look like much.”

Tim raised an eyebrow, glancing up at Jason. “That’s what you cut patrol short for? To see her in person?”

Jason shrugged, his gaze fixed on you. “I was curious. Heard you and Damian going back and forth about her. Figured I’d check it out for myself.” His lips quirked into a faint smirk. “Didn’t expect her to be… this.”

Tim tilted his head. “This what?”

Jason gestured vaguely at the screen. “This… normal. Sweater, messy hair, drinking like she’s celebrating her midterms being over. Doesn’t scream ‘Iceberg Lounge material,’ y’know?”

Tim chuckled, toggling to another camera feed for a better angle. “That’s kind of the point. She thought she was interviewing for a janitorial position, Jason. Janitorial.”

Jason blinked, then snorted. “You’re kidding.”

“Wish I was,” Tim said, leaning back in his chair. “She walked in there with a résumé—an actual paper résumé—and asked about cleaning floors or whatever. Cobblepot probably laughed his ass off before offering her a drink.”

“He’s footing the bill by the way,” Tim added, toggling to a feed that showed the Penguin subtly watching you from across the room as he conversed with some guests. “She hasn’t reached for her wallet once. He’s just… letting her.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed as he studied the Penguin’s expression. There was no malice there yet, no obvious scheme in motion. Instead, Cobblepot looked almost… satisfied, like he was pleased with what he was seeing. “The hell’s his angle?” Jason muttered, his top lip curling in disgust at the possibilities.

“No idea,” Tim replied. “But if I had to guess? He’s trying to butter her up. Make her think the Lounge is a safe place, keep her happy and oblivious while he decides what to do with her.”

Jason scoffed, leaning back against the console.”She won’t last a week.”

Tim smirked. “You’re awfully invested for someone who just met her. Maybe you should prep a care package.”

“I didn’t meet her,” Jason shot back, though his eyes flicked back to the screen almost involuntarily. “I’m just saying, someone needs to give her a reality check before she gets eaten alive.”

“Maybe,” Tim said, watching as you swayed slightly to the music, chatting with another patron who’d joined you at the bar. “But she doesn’t look like she’s in danger. Yet.”

Jason grunted, pushing off the console and grabbing his helmet. “Yeah, well, I’m keeping an eye on this one. If Penguin tries anything, I’m ending it.”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so now you’re helping? Didn’t you just skip the last half of your patrol?”

Jason smirked as he turned toward the exit. “Hey, monitoring Gotham’s underworld is part of the job, isn’t it? I’m just doing my part.”

Tim shook his head with a laugh as Jason disappeared up the stairs. “Sure you are.”

Back on the screen, you were oblivious to the scrutiny, to the way the curiosities of Gotham's vigilantes were beginning to blossom into something more.

[hana-no-seiiki]

“Kalasahan ta kaw.”

“Kalasahan tara kaw”

“YOU KNOW TAUSUG TOO?? DAMN IT—“

It started as a little competition. An accidental one. You told him I love you in your native language, and forgetting that Damian Wayne could understand at least a thousand in that wrinkly brain of his, accidentally confessed your longing, love and devotion to his face.

Thankfully it was reciprocated. But wouldn’t it have been disastrous if he didn’t also love you to death? Yikes.

Still, you didn’t like how calm and collected he always was whenever he replied to you. He was always so cool about it. As if his heart didn’t beat a million miles per second when you spoke. As if he wasn’t struggling with the thought of you contaminating his brain every moment he breathed.

You wanted to crack that shell of his. To let it all spill out in a wondrous array of colors that matched his paintings of you. (A hobby he picked up even before the two of you officially met)

And so you began finding ways to say you loved him in a way that would catch him off guard.

It started with different ways in English, but now you managed to find

“You might as well give up, beloved. I’ve familiarized myself with every single dialect in the Philippines, ever since you started. None of them can—“

But you still had one trump card under your sleeve.

“Ai armiel telere maenen hir!”

“. . .” He remains silent. Could it be . . .

“Hah, I bet you don’t know D&D Elvish!”

“ . . . “ His ears beet red.

“It means—“

“You hold my heart forever.”

“!!!”

Today’s results? A tie. Damn him and his voice.

[green-butterfly-writes]

Concept: (romantic) yandere batboys and a reader who knows (kind of)

Consists of Tim, Jason, and Dick. Could be read as them working together or in competition.

TW: light yandere behavior

1) camera

It started when you find a small camera hidden on top of a shelf

Mostly out of fear, partly out of caution, you brake it (and make it look like an accident) by smashing a heavy box into it

You checked on it periodically when taking things in and out of the box

It disappeared after your new friend Tim came to visit

And then you found a new one hidden on top of your fridge that definitely wasn’t there before

So you pretend not to see it, then knock it off and step on it.

And so the game began. Every time Tim came over, he hid a new camera, and you’d find it, brake it, and play innocent

2) neighbor

The apartment directly across the hall was rented to a strange man named Jayson. You consider him strange because he’s constantly covered in cuts and bruises, and always lied about them

He also lies about where he works. Constantly.

But you like to eat your breakfast on your balcony, and he drinks coffee on his at the same time, so you see each other fairly often and he’s nice to chat to

But then he slipped up. Mentioned something you hadn’t told him about. Something you had only mentioned to your old friend. A friend who currently lives in France.

…

Was he listening in on your calls

You decided to test your theory

You called your cousin, went as far back into your apartment as you could (to rule out the possibility of him hear through the walls), and told her about how much you miss you exs soft, fluffy hair. How you find men with shiny hair attractive. How you think that it’s important your partner knows how to take care of himself, and that was a good way to tell if he did or not.

The next morning his hair looked noticeably fluffier

Theory confirmed

(Tim’s hair also looked nicer the next time you saw him. maybe you should look into that)

3) accompaniment

Nightwing knew you name

This is odd because you never told him your name

You didn’t work nights, so your interactions with Gothams vigilantes was limited to occasional glimpses at Signal

and yet some how he knew your name

You expect his offer to walk you home, and wave him forward

You let him take the lead, chatting with him and laughing at his jokes

You never told him your address, never told him were to go, be he took you to the doorstep of your complex

That was… odd

But then again Gotham is odd

It’s probably nothing to worry about

[josnhoes]

Hey, could I possibly get a how Dick Grayson and Bruce wayne would deal with having an adult 30 year old s/o who has autism, but the men don’t know about the autism until the men either figure it out themselves or date number 5 is when s/o tells them cuz they don’t just going around telling people about their autism. S/o at first masks themselves very well, but as you get to know them they have these quirks. Like s/o takes an intense interest in their men’s day or hobby or intensely helps out when they’re in trouble. Theyre excitedly talk to their men about their own interests. Gets stressed easily and can’t sleep until they’re not stressed. Finds it hard to understand new topics no matter how many times it is explained to them until it is explained in a way that isn’t normal, but once they understand it, they’re really good at it, except for the concept of being rich with all that money, still can’t wrap their head around how Bruce deals with all that money and all the meetings that go along with it. Finds it hard to express emotions unless it’s intensely happy or intensely hurt. Very blunt, like Batman says he works alone and date waits until other people are gone before saying “but you just worked with the police 10 minutes ago”

Batman and his family are all Autistic to varying degrees except Alfred who is the token nuerotypical, and I will die on this hill. Look at them and their behaviors and *tell me* they aren't autistic. I *dare* you.

GN reader

Content warning: none

Bruce, despite his himbo persona, he put on struggled with people and connecting to them. His family was an exception. He at times struggled with sarcasm and had some blunders but that was publicly chalked up to silly Brucie Wayne the himbo. His diagnosis was kept secret, being famous made that hard to accomplish, but he'd managed to keep it hidden; for him and his family.

Still he was surprised when he clicked so well with you. He found your blunt honesty charming, he appreciated the way you honestly cared about his day. It was nice to have someone outside the family who cared for him and not his fame or money. Though you didn't seem to comprehend how much money he had when you insisted on paying your part of the dates. If he snuck the money back on you somehow, well you'd never know. Spoiler alert you did but you appreciated the gesture.

Then on one of your dates you came clean; and how you clicked made sense! You guys both had autism. Sadly he couldn't tell you his own diagnosis yet. Forgive him for being so cautious, but he worried about the public opinion. Maybe he was a coward, but it was rooted in paranoia.

He knew there was nothing wrong with being autistic, he just also knew the bigots were a major issue and with his nightlife and CEO work he didn't really have time to deal with the bigots and media storm. But if you both lasted longer then a few months he'd tell you.

He supports you completely. Every hobby, Fandom, and hyperfixation he tries out with you. And even if he isn't a fan he happily listens to you talk about it finding the way you light up attractive.

You quickly become *his* person just as he became your's; a fact obvious to everyone.

Dick was the most functioning of the family. Everyone was functional but Dick was able to push through some things. Like the various sensory issues. He also was pretty good at reading social situations. Though he attributed that to his time with his Bio parents. It wasn't always easy for him, when he was younger he was much more prone to outbursts.

He maybe seen as the golden child now, but as far as Robins went *he* had been the one to give Bruce the most gray hairs. Though no one believes it when they hear it. That being said he is one of the few members of the family that is pretty open with his diagnoses. He wants to be a pillar for the autistic and adhd community in Gotham.

So when he met you, he pretty much pegged you as autistic. You had been in the area of hit and run, and as a witness, you had to give a statement. Being the friendliest of the force, he'd been chosen to talk to you. You were point blank and despite the situation you were calm and almost unbothered. Which he asked about and when you said you had trouble emoting he knew right away. He sends you off with his personal number incase you need help or remember something more.

From there, a friendship grew. That being said, this man was a mother hen. Always trying to help you with every little thing, including your sleep issues. He backs off some if you tell him it's too much, but he does explain it's how he shows he cares; and it's not because he doesn't think you can do things for yourself. He remembers the bitterness he felt when his cop coworkers found out about his autism when he first started, and they had both babied him and tried to get him off the force.

From friendship come a romance eventually. He was the one to make the first move. He made a meal for you both to share in his apartment. He picked a couple of movies, each a comfort film for both of you, and made the night special even if it was simple.

[flwrkid14]

Love and Obsession: The Tim Drake Way

part 2

Everyone in the Batfamily knows Tim Drake has… issues with boundaries. They’ve spent years trying to teach him what’s appropriate and what’s—well—deeply unsettling and completely invasive. To be fair, he’s learned. Mostly. He doesn’t stalk his family anymore (much), and he no longer pulls up files on every single person they talk to (okay, maybe just sometimes). But it’s progress.

But then Tim starts dating Danny Fenton. And, oh boy, a few screws come loose.

It starts small, as always. Just little things. Tim’s a detective, after all—background checks are second nature. Danny’s living in Gotham, and Gotham isn’t safe. So, really, what’s the harm in knowing a little more about Danny’s friends? And his professors? And maybe also his classmates? It’s just standard protocol. Okay?

“Tim, you’ve run a full dossier on my entire biology class?” Danny asks one day, laughing as he flips through a file on the coffee table. Tim shrugs. “What if one of them is dangerous?” “Pretty sure the most dangerous thing in that class is the midterm.”

Danny doesn’t think much of it. He’s a little flattered, even. Tim’s protective. It’s sweet.

But Tim’s mind doesn’t stop there. Danny’s too handsome. Too charming. What if someone tries to hurt him? What if someone tries to take him away? It’s not obsessive—it’s just concern. So, a tracker on Danny’s phone? Necessary. Cameras in his apartment? Standard. Monitoring his sleeping patterns and hangout spots? Logical.

Tim tells himself it’s love. And maybe a little insecurity.

“You have a tracker on his phone?” Dick asks, trying not to sound alarmed. Tim nods, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Of course. What if something happens to him?” “And the cameras?” “Safety.” “The background checks on his professors?” “Gotham U isn’t exactly known for its stellar staff, Dick.”

It doesn’t stop there. Tim knows everything. Danny’s eating habits, his favorite places to go when he’s stressed, his childhood allergies. Tim’s mapped out Danny’s entire life. He knows about Danny’s ghost powers too—of course he does. He’s Tim Drake. The moment he realized Danny was Phantom, it just… clicked.

Danny being half-ghost? That’s just one more reason to worry. Tim’s up late at night, watching for any signs of ectoplasmic interference. He tracks the energy spikes. He monitors Danny’s fights.

He doesn’t think Danny knows. He’s terrified of what will happen if he finds out.

But then he does.

One evening, Danny walks into Tim’s apartment and casually drops a folder on the table. Tim’s heart stops.

“What’s this?” Danny asks, raising an eyebrow. Tim swallows hard. “I… it’s just…” “You’ve been tracking me?” Danny opens the file, glancing through pages of surveillance reports, background checks, even analysis of his ectoplasmic energy. Tim feels like his world is about to shatter.

“I… I can explain,” Tim says, his voice tight. “I’m just… worried about you. You’re in danger all the time, and I—” Danny walks over, cupping Tim’s face in his hands. Tim braces for the worst.

But Danny just smiles. “Can I put a tracker on you too?”

Tim blinks. “What?” Danny kisses his cheek. “If you’re watching my back, it’s only fair I watch yours. I need to make sure you’re safe too.”

Tim stares at him, speechless. Danny doesn’t look scared. Or angry. He looks… fond. Like Tim’s obsessive tendencies aren’t a problem at all.

“I’ve never had someone care about me this much,” Danny says softly. “I trust you with my life, Tim. This? This just proves how serious you are.”

Tim thinks he’s just fallen deeper in love.

-------------------

The Batfamily? They’re worried.

Jason corners Tim in the cave. “Okay, so let me get this straight. You’ve got cameras in his apartment. You’ve mapped out his entire life. You’ve got a tracker on him and a heartbeat monitor. And he’s… fine with it?” Tim nods, a dreamy smile on his face. “Yeah. He even wants to put a tracker on me.” “That’s not… healthy, Tim,” Dick says carefully. “That’s—” “It’s mutual,” Tim interrupts. “We’re protecting each other.”

Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose. “Tim, this isn’t how relationships are supposed to work.” Tim shrugs. “It’s how ours works.”

Damian watches the whole thing with narrowed eyes. “This is deeply unsettling,” he mutters.

They try to talk to Danny. Intervention style. They invite him over, sit him down, and gently (or not so gently) try to explain that Tim’s behavior isn’t normal.

Danny just laughs. “You guys do know I’m half-ghost, right?” “That doesn’t mean—” Dick starts. “I spent my entire life being hunted by ghost hunters. I’ve had worse invasions of privacy.” Danny smiles. “Tim cares. He keeps me safe. That’s all I need.”

The bats don't quite know what to say.

-------------------

Tim and Danny, two slightly unhinged souls who think mutual surveillance is the ultimate act of love.

The bats? They’re just trying to keep up.

(“At least they’re happy?” Barbara offers weakly. Bruce sighs. “For now.”)

Gotham’s version of love was never going to be normal. But this? This is a whole new level.

[seren-dipitous-art]

This ship has been bugging me for days now. Supers and bats just have the best dynamics.

I love these boys so much.

[bluerosefox]

Kidnapped Persephone Style

Me: *tossing prompt idea up and down in the air before chucking it into the Void we call the internet*

Jason is dating Ghost Prince (not yet King) Danny and goes on a really awesome and romantic date on his day off. He forgot to tell the fam though. So when Red Robin comes to give Jason an update on some entil, he watches in muted horror as Jason is 'kidnapped' by a glowing entity in black armor and a nightmare looking horse (Danny is a bit busy doing paperwork, so he had his Fright Knight pick Jason up) off of a Gotham rooftop and into a green portal, while the knight had proclaimed Jason as their future Kings 'intended'..

No one on coms is ready for Tim to yell out

"I THINK JASON JUST GOT KIDNAPPED PERSEPHONE STYLE!!"

[acid-ixx]

'cause you're takin' it like a champ, sweetheart !

(nsfw) romantic! yandere conner kent x gn! reader

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

— masterlist ; leaked sex tape post ; other post !

a/n: mdni. purely nsfw. inspired off of @luludeluluramblings. the reader here is gender neutral but is a bottom, so interpret them as any gender as you will! mentions of breeding, oral (giving &. receiving), and overstimulation.

i'm sorry but i just read about the sex tape thing and now i'm shitposting you guys. what if instead of making chapter 6 for my series angsty, i make conner and you have kinky, sloppy, sweat-drenched sex after your first date? what if instead of the batfamily stripping you away of your freedom, conner strips you naked right before one of the secret cameras placed inside the room you're both in, that he's sure records every single passionate movement you both make in bed?

what if instead of you crying from the pain of all the negligence, you writhe and mewl like an overstimulated pornstar as he pounds away all your worries instead??? and if the footage unknowingly gets leaked? holy shit, not only do you possess the title of bruce wayne's infamous bastard child, but you're now also known as a kryptonian monsterfucker who definitely possesses the energy of a bull if it means you could handle bed-breaking sex to the point you're sure anyone from a mile away could hear your bated, snappy breaths and conner's sporadic, non-stop humping into the most pleasurable parts of your body.

cause even if he's half-human, that doesn't take away the fact that he is half-human. he sports features that aren't typical in normal anatomy. this just translates to: less energy is consumed when fucking you, so he could go on and on and on eating his love out, leaving marks for hours whilst simultaneously ensuring that you're probably well-bred (and i hc that it's probably almost exclusive to kryptonians that they cum, a lot) and dripping and feeling full by the end of the night (or day, heaven knows just how long he could go off worshipping your body).

and yes, the leaked sex tape piqued the interest of most curious eyes and it's probably going to be the spectacle for most researchers curious about kryptonian anatomy- but consider this. conner's not the only man obsessed with you. there're some romantic interests out there seething with rage, at the same time nutting and touching themselves to the video and playing it on repeat cause you're taking it like a champ.

unfortunately for them though, you've already been too addicted to the feel of conner spearing you down that you just can't fathom anyone else holding you the same way he does. you love the dichotomy he puts you through (to the point you ignore the red glinting lenses above your body) when he's possessively pinning you to the any fucking surface with his strong arms wrapped around your waist, with no chance of escape, the sensation of his dick penetration in and out in a hasty, yet rhythmic beat. yet despite the harsh thrusts, his hand still find itself to your sweaty forehead to wipe away stray hair, his lips taking its sweet time softly pressing kisses from the crown of your head all the way to your lips.

"good j-job takin' me whole, sweetheart— ah! god, i love you..." he whispers praises with his parched throat on your ears, every syllable enunciated with the thrum of his hips, your legs nearly resting over his shoulder. if not for his breaths hitting the inside of your ears, goosebumps spreading throughout your body, you wouldn't have picked up on the bass of his voice complimenting you.

your grip on his body only tightens, eyes shutting deeper into the near zenith. with just how much you're humping back despite the soreness in your muscles, tears escaping your eyes from pure, unfiltered pleasure, it's as if you're putting on a performance for the whole world to see.

"i— AH! i love you, t-too, kon– baby!" your reply came in the form of a squeal after another of his particularly harsh thrusts from waiting for your response. god, your throat hurts, it's more sore than conner's, taking him in your mouth fully felt like a fever dream, but you could remember the shape of his tip puncturing the back of your throat that it has your body reeling for another mind-blowing orgasm.

the glass of water on the stand beside you both is empty, it's been empty for hours. yet conner's still thirsty, how else would he be quenched from his urge when his previous ministrations of eating you out whilst prepping you to take his dick makes him even hornier? there's something about your body that makes the kryptonian want to memorize every single detail from how you writhe when the piercing in his tongue penetrates a sensitive part of you, and oh, the salty taste of your sweat and tears is heaven for a starving man like him.

shit, the thought of sloppily devouring you whole after he fills you up time and time again would be the cherry on top. overstimulation works pleasures on his sweetheart's body like a charm. he loves seeing the more desperate parts of you begging for more yet telling him to stop at the same time, as your hands still tangle harshly on his hair to keep him in place.

... but for now, he's got to focus on the lack of love marks on the expanse of your body, his vision nitpicking all the places in your skin that he's going to suck hickeys on. it'll definitely be his final piece of the puzzle to show all your other admirers his claim on you.

and the whole world can only bear witness to the artwork he's creating with you.

welp, guess it's just going to be you and conner alone in the room for a while, satiating both your hunger for each other, haha...

— oh, and don't forget the hundreds of cameras placed strategically to record all angles of your bodied fucking like animals!

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

There's no other way to say this,

but Jason is currently being haunted by a ridiculously cartoony ghost.

Like one of those window stickers Alfred was so fond of putting up for Halloween.

Two small green ovals and a mouth that only shows when it's making noises.

It didn't even say boo! It made these small chirps and purrs in different pitches.

He couldn't get rid of it, throwing the thing off a roof did nothing, locking it away didn't deter it. It could just phase out of his hands if it wanted to.

It's just playing with him!

So Jason was stuck with a sometimes visible little friend and he had the feeling that it was laughing at him.

Danny was... somewhere.

He was aware of that.

The fear gas had hit the college fast, many were caught unaware and unable to put on their gas masks before it was too late.

Danny was one of them.

His body recognized the gas was a toxin, it tried it's damn best to burn it out of his body in those moments of panic, and now all he knows is that his is zapped of all energy.

Thankfully, he found a protector while he recuperated!

Danny can now just be a little guy and focus on storing energy.

[luludeluluramblings]

Smalltown!Neglected!Meta!Reader x Yandere!Batfam ☁️ Part Four

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Five ☁️ Part Six ☁️ Part Seven ☁️ Part Eight

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Warning: Obessive behavior, Yandere tendencies, su*c*de/death.

A/N: Finally adding warning labels. We’re getting somewhere. I’ve had some of this written out, but had to add some stuff in to drive it home. Reader’s coping skills are failing, but everyone’s starting to get obsessive. Also, I’ve been fighting myself on drawing art for this. (I’m a bit out of practice.)

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Reader has basically called befriending Damian and Jason a lost cause.

Bruce still avoids reader. And, everyone else is still busy with what Reader assumes is Batwork. (Which is fine, Reader is fine. It’s not like they’re stuck in the manor pacing the halls every damn day.)

Cass and Duke’s get back from their respective missions. They weren’t gone too long, but they’re come back a bit roughed up. They debrief with Bruce and then have to go back to being civilians.

Reader is waiting to comfort them. Not to confront them. Reader’s more concerned with how Duke has a mild limp and how Cass’s knuckles have some bruising than them ditching. Plus, reader is still not completely sure that her family is Gotham’s vigilantes. They need to confirm.

But, Duke and Cass both appreciate Reader checking on them and not asking questions. Cass suspects Reader suspects something, judging by Reader’s body language. But, it’s nice for someone who’s naturally soft to be soft with you.

Duke appreciates how Reader treats him so, normally. In a way it reminds him of his childhood, when things were easier. He has a normal friend now, completely mostly free of Gotham’s crazy.

Reader is happy their back, but disappointed that they won’t be going to the school gala. In fact, a few family members make comments about how it sounds like a waste of time.

Bruce, however, is actually happy Reader is excited. And, Reader gets even more excited when one of their new friends ask to be their date. Reader’s date is so genuinely excited about going to this Gala with Reader. (Uh-oh, that’s not good.)

Some of Reader’s other friends, the more haughty and wealthy ones, tell Reader that they should’ve picked someone more… refined. Which Reader defends that their Date is perfectly sweet and good looking to boot.

But, this leads Reader to decide not to tell anyone in the family about their date. They don’t want to hear the same thing from their Gotham family. Reader does inform BFF, younger brother, and Nana of their date. For some reason, BFF was a bit disgruntled, and even Nana tried to convince them it was probably best not to go. Younger Brother was encouraging reader to have fun. (But he was whispering into the phone, and asking Reader if he could come visit them soon. Please. People are acting weird here. Is everything okay, do you need me to come home. No. No. Don’t— It’s fine. I just wanna come visit you.)

But, reader was committed to going and enjoying their date and wearing their custom made outfit.

That night, Reader was given Bruce’s permission to get ready at one of their friends’ houses. Reader was practically spoiled by their friends, it was almost a bit overwhelming. Their date meet them at the Gala escorting them inside and having a wonderful time. (I hope it last. It’s not going to though. How sad.)

At the end of the night, their Date escorted them home. To end a near perfect night Reader got a kiss. A long and pretty heated kiss. Right in front of the Entrance camera.

Tim had pulled up the camera feed when Reader got home, at Bruce’s request, just to check on Reader. (He was going to do it anyway.) The entire family was winding down from Patrol in the Batcave when the feed came on. Leaving them all to get a front row seat to Reader’s little act of rebellion.

(That’s all this was, right. Just a little act of rebellion. This won’t happen again, obviously. They won’t fucking let it.)

Bruce is livid. It doesn’t help that Jason wolf-whistles to further enrage him. (Jason is making plans to break someone’s leg though. Possibly the Dates. How fucking dare they corrupt you, that’s his job.)

Stephane is honestly impressed, didn’t think Reader had it in them. (How cute! I wonder what we could get up to together.)

Duke, sweet Duke, didn’t want to see that. His (best) friend getting tongued down on camera. He’s going to need bleach and therapy. (Why would you do that? When you can just game with him. You’re his bro. Gross.)

Cassandra is… understanding. Reader has needs. Reader wants affection. That’s fine. But, not that one. Pick someone else. (Llet her pick, actually. You can’t read people like her, you need someone better. Someone you she can trust. She needs to approve of them first.)

Dick is more disapproving, but he understands. Still, this changes how he sees Reader. Sweet innocent helpless Reader has a wild side. (But still reader is clearly helpless, obviously they don’t know what they’re doing.)

It also changes how Barbara sees Reader. Or confirms. Barbara runs under the assumption that Reader is more like Bruce than anyone realizes. (She’s not wrong, but it’s not in the way she thinks.) Bruce is a bit of natural flirt, he just hides it in his ‘Brucie’ persona. Reader apparently takes after that. (Damian sure didn’t.)

Damian, is disgusted, disappointed, and disapproving. He doesn’t doubt Father will scold you, but your date needs to be dealt with and all other suitors as well. (He’ll take care of it. He’s your brother, that’s his job.)

Tim, however, is legitimately jealous. He wanted to see this side of reader first. He got a glimpse of it before, but he wants it for himself now that he sees the full thing. (Also, right in front of the camera? Did Reader know it was there? If they did, would they be okay with Tim filming them more? Just to observe, please.)

Tim immediately starts pulling up all the information he can about Reader’s date. Without Bruce’s prompting this time. Bruce does nod in approval before marching to the entrance. Intent on putting an end to this and giving Reader a firm talking to.

It goes, horribly. Date is forced to leave and Bruce tears into Reader. (What happened to the outfit I bought you? Why didn’t you tell me you had a date? I didn’t approve of this. I don’t care that you’re back on time or that you’re old enough, you’re my child! Mine! You get my approval first.)

Reader stays composed, barely. The good news is that the brutal scolding is the only consequence Reader faces. (Bruce is more upset about Reader not seeking his approval than doing something he disapproves of. He’s your father. He should have a damn say. Would you have done this to D̴̖̞͑̊̓a̷͎͗̇d̸̜͍̩̓̎d̸̪̩̟̆̎y̶̛̼̌? Why are you doing this to him?)

The bad news, Reader’s date’s life is over. With just a few clicks from Tim and approval from Bruce, Date’s family company falling apart. Reported to the government, lawsuits filed by third-parties. Hidden debts needing to be collected NOW. Any misfiled taxes? Found and reported. And, most importantly, all calls and ways for Date to contact reader again, blocked.

Socially and financially, Date’s life is ruined in less than twenty-four hours. Worst of all, Reader doesn’t know. They’re still on cloud nine about the night, despite Bruce’s lecture. But, come Sunday morning, two days later, things fall apart.

Date is reported dead. Apparent suic1de just the night before. The financial implosion of the family was named the apparent reason.

Reader is distraught, confused, and hurt. What happened? What’s going on? This can’t be happening. I don’t want to lose anymore people I care about. I don’t want to lose someone like Momma and Daddy again.

Reader’s Gotham friends console Reader, saying it’s not their fault. That Date struggled with thought before. Don’t blame yourself. (They weren’t worth your time.)

Surprisingly enough, it’s Dick that finds reader having a borderline breakdown.

Dick clings and coddles and coos, but this time. Reader clings back. Reader clings back tight. Desperate for comfort. Which is surprising for Dick.

Most of the family tends to brush off his attempts at comfort until they hit rock bottom. For once, this isn’t someone hitting rock bottom before they need him. This is someone that’s just genuinely sad and overwhelmed and needs wants him.

Dick also ran under the assumption that Reader was allergic to affection, like Damian and Bruce. But, apparently, that wasn’t the case. It’s a nice feeling. To have someone not fight him when he tries to be comforting. Someone who is happy to take it. Of course, he doesn’t stay long. Once Reader pulls themselves together he’s got to get back to Buldhaven, but this time he leaves a bit slower. (But, him leaving somehow makes Reader feel worse.)

[logicallyblind]

i see your “bruce wayne laughs in upper class, 100 dollar bills fall from his lips when he chuckles, etc etc” take and i agree wholeheartedly but also i raise you

“bruce who doesn’t really laugh at things out loud like that really, he’s more of a nose exhale, brief grin and intense eye contact conveying his emotions” type of guy but sometimes

something will happen that constitutes, his full on body laugh and when its an instinctual thing it’s so rare that bruce doesn’t have a failsafe for that reflex and the person they’re with just,, stops

because the laugh they’re so used to can’t be compared to this genuine deep, heavy with emotion and feeling laugh that fills his lungs and your soul- and they just wish he would do that all of the time instead of his wooden paparazzi simpering and its something so stark that it throws them for a loop

and idk i just love watching bruce expose layers of himself to those he loves without consciously doing so

[myerssimp21]

Jason Todd, Hot Neighbor (YAN!Pt.2)

Romantic!Yandere!Batfam Part 2. Part 1 is Tim getting aphrodisiac'd by Ivy and desperately coming over to Darling's apartment, getting it on her. Hot neighbor!Jason hears them fucking and comes over, jealous. Part 1, Part 3: here

Still reeling from Tim's sudden departure after one of the most intense sexual encounters you'd ever had, you couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that washed over you. There was a sense of sadness lingering in the air, a twinge of disappointment that he couldn't stick around a little longer.

The word that kept echoing in your mind was "used". You didn't want to admit it, but that's how you felt deep down. You wanted to believe that Tim had a valid reason for leaving so abruptly, that there was something important waiting for him elsewhere. But a nagging voice in your head whispered doubts, reminding you that you were important too.

On one hand, you wanted to extend an olive branch, to give Tim the benefit of the doubt and assume the best of him. But on the other, you couldn't shake the feeling of being disposable, of being cast aside after serving his purpose. He had seemed so sorry to leave, he'd apologized and promised to make it up to you, but you needed the emotional aftercare badly.

It was a bitter pill to swallow; that someone could be so desperate to be with you one moment and then leave without a second thought. It made you feel cheap and dirty. It felt as if your worth was measured solely by your ability to fulfill someone else's desires. These feelings were made worse when you realized your sex had somehow left you still impossibly aroused; as if the two orgasms Tim pulled from you were inconsequential. It was like your cunt forgot it had barely pulled off the second orgasm in a row.

The conflicted feelings and the growing desire settling in your body together, you experimentally snuck a finger into your underwear as you stood there in your bedroom, eyes widening at the sloppy wetness that was there despite Tim using a condom. You were still aroused- you felt your heartbeat quicken at the realization.

Heartbeat beginning to pound at the thought of whimpering on a vibrator soon, a faint hope flickered in your chest as you heard another knock at the door. You couldn't help but wonder if it was Tim again, returning to offer some explanation or just to be with you a little longer. You honestly hoped it was Tim so he could chase away the lingering sense of emptiness that had settled in your chest. Neglecting to wash your hands this time, you staggered over to the door.

As you pulled it open though, Jason's tall form greeted you, stance confident and looming over you. His presence radiated authority and self-control, a stark contrast to Tim's frantic approach. Seeing him wearing a shirt for the first time, you remember you're not wearing pants, pathetically hiding your nudity behind the door with only your clothed torso exposed.

"Hey there," Jason's voice was smooth, his tone laced with a hint of something you couldn't quite place—"I couldn't help but notice some... interesting sounds coming from your place," Jason's words were carefully chosen, his tone easy-going but his eyes dangerously sharp. "Thought I'd check in and see who's been keeping you busy tonight."

You find yourself at a loss for words, stunned by the realization that Jason not only heard you with Tim but also has the audacity to expect you to disclose who you were with. Tears begin to prickle in your eyes as you grapple with the unfairness of the situation. If only Tim had stayed for some form of aftercare, you wouldn't feel so utterly lost right now.

"You've been getting to know someone else, haven't you?" Jason's tone carries a blend of amusement and feigned curiosity, as if he already knows the answer but is daring you to admit it. It's as though he's challenging you to reveal the truth.

Your silence seems to irritate him, and a sneer plays at the corners of his lips as he leans in slightly, effortlessly invading your personal space. Because he's so confidently moving in, you don't think before opening the door more and exposing your nudity thoughtlessly. His eyes quickly scan your form and his sneer morphs into a mean smile at the sight. The realization that you've allowed these power dynamics to spiral out of control, allowing unspoken boundaries to be trampled, makes your tears bigger as he draws closer, threatening to drop.

"Lost for words, are we?" Jason's voice held a note of mockery, "It's funny how the most vocal sluts so often have the least to say when it comes to the truth."

You couldn't help but feel shame wash over you. The brutal way he spoke down to you left you almost shocked into submission; as if his words made you want to bow your head and eagerly do as he said. The overpowering scent Tim carried that you caught when you'd buried your nose into his neck still had you dizzy, your heartbeat throbbing and beginning to ache in your cunt. It was so dangerous to let Jason bully you into what you knew he wanted, especially after Tim had left you feeling so dejected and empty with his quick escape, but you were still desperately needy both physically and emotionally.

"Maybe you should worry less about who's been keeping me busy and more about how you can keep up."

It's confident at face value, but those tears are still threatening to spill and your voice is too quiet to convey self-assurance, betraying your shaky invitation.

There's a beat before Jason wordlessly invites himself in and you feel a sinking sensation beginning to form in the pit of your stomach. His silent actions speak volumes, locking the door behind him as he steps in and his body firmly presses against yours. The click of the lock sends a chill down your spine, a stark reminder that this is no longer just a tense exchange at the doorway.

You’re sure he can feel you trembling when he dips his head down to attach his lips to your neck, exhaling loudly when you melt into it. You’re certain he can tell you’re shaky when both his arms reach up to support you as soon as he’s locked the door behind him, holding you steady as he turns out the harsh kitchen light Tim neglected when he ran out. The only other source of light is softly spilling out from the bedroom from your lamp, lightly enveloping you two in a serene glow.

“We can stop anytime you want,” he says gently and more tears well up in your eyes at how fucking soft he sounds in comparison to how mean he just was, “just say it and I’ll listen.”

You sniffle back more tears that come out when he begins rubbing circles into your back, feeling frustrated that your body hasn’t caught the hint you’re not quite in the mood. The physical discomfort that has you convinced only orgasm will relieve it is hard to explain.

“I just don’t know what’s wrong with me, Jason,” you whimper, “I need this but my headspace is fucked.”

As you speak, you can feel Jason's arms tightening around you, offering comfort and support amid your confusion. You struggle to make sense of the conflicting desires coursing through your body, the overwhelming need for release clouding your thoughts.

Then you’re trying to keep your knees from giving out when his lips return to your neck, alternating between sharply nibbling and sucking the skin there.

“I’ll take care of you,” he breathily promises, one of his large hands snaking into your panties to rub your labia up and down as he guided you both into your bedroom. Shudders erupted over your skin when he eased you onto the bed to crawl above you, a grin on his face again as he pulled it away from your neck, "even if you've broken my heart."

"Jason-" you begin, pouting up at him, overwhelmed by the sensations and confusing signals from him, "You-"

He didn't let you finish your protests, covering your mouth with his in an obscenely lewd kiss as a finger slipped into you. The embarrassingly loud, low moan involuntarily spilling out onto the tongue now exploring your mouth makes him pull away and laugh, slowly pumping his finger.

"Did you let him cum in you?," he asks, sounding accusatory, the mocking grin glinting back at you, "You're so sloppy down here."

"He didn't!" You whine, aware he's being degrading again but knowing you're too far gone in committing to this pleasure to care, "I just... I need you that much, Jason."

He falters fingering you to process what you've just said to him, and your eyes search his expression, trying to figure out what he's thinking. The thrill of not knowing makes you clench down on him, squirming underneath him as your desperation grows.

"Please don't make me beg," you whine again, sure you sound pathetic, "Jason, plea-!"

You're cut off again, this time by the sensation of a second finger slipping in, pumping steadily as he attaches himself to your neck once more, biting and sucking as you moan in relief. You can't help but squeeze on his fingers at every sensation, feeling the painful tingling of arousal slowly ebb away with each dedicated movement of his. Quickly any pain is replaced with a building need for release and you close your eyes, focused on how good the friction of the finger-fucking feels.

It's increasingly apparent to you that you're in your bedroom with Jason. He's the hot neighbor you never imagined would be between your legs teasing you like this, smirking down at you like he was Satan. But here he is, sweetly giving you exactly what you want, exactly what you need.

He suddenly stops pumping them, pulling them out wordlessly and your eyes fly open in the absence. Before you can protest or do anything other than make frustrated eye contact and whine, he sinks them back in and pauses before wiggling them inside you in a way that makes your hips buck up against him with an even helplessly louder moan.

"There we go," he murmurs contentedly when you instinctively grab for anything when he moves like this again, settling on squeezing his bicep as it flexed with his fingering, "There's my good girl. You're so responsive to me, aren't you?"

"J-Jason," you whimper, your voice already breathless and needy as his fingers work their magic and you feel yourself approaching your climax. "Can I please cum?"

As soon as you ask it, the shame rushes through again. You didn't mean to sound so pathetic, but Jason's attitude makes you feel like you should ask him for permission with the way he's acted about Tim coming over and because it's him bringing you to the edge right now.

Jason's lips curve into a knowing smirk as he feels the immediate shift in your demeanor, sensing your embarrassment even as your body continues to respond to his touch.

"Did you just ask for permission?" he teases with his voice low and husky as he continues to pleasure you, slowing his strokes and gently placing his thumb onto your clit to rub circles, "How obedient of you, begging for release like a good little pet."

His words send a flush of heat to your cheeks, the embarrassment mingling with the added pleasure coursing through you.

"I-I didn't mean to," you stammer, your voice barely a whisper as you struggle to find the right words amidst all the overwhelming stimuli, "It's just... I can't control..."

Jason's smirk widens at your embarrassed stammering, relishing in the power he holds over you in this moment of vulnerability.

"Didn't think I'd have you begging for permission so soon," he taunts, his voice dripping with amusement as he continues to tease you. "Makes me wonder... did you ask the other guy for permission too?"

Your cheeks somehow burn even hotter at the mention of Tim, the memory of his presence earlier adding another layer of shame to your already flushed face.

"I-I didn't," you manage to choke out, your voice barely audible over the rush of blood in your ears. "I didn't need to..."

"Of course you didn't," he drawls, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Because I'm the only one who can make you feel this way, aren't I? And you know what? I'll make you forget about him," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "I'll make you forget about everything except how good I can make you feel."

"Move up and face that way," he murmurs, his voice low and husky as he guides you into a new position. "I want to see you from a different angle."

You comply without question, too caught up in desire to protest. Little do you know, you're playing right into Jason's hands, completely unaware of the surveillance cameras placed at strategic areas of your apartment and bedroom capturing every intimate moment between the two of you for the voyeuristic pleasure of the BatFamily. His movements are carefully calculated to get a better angle for the cameras hidden throughout your apartment, so he can prove to Tim that he fucks you better.

Suddenly, Jason shifts his position, dipping down between your legs with a predatory gleam in his eyes. His hot breath fans across your sensitive skin, sending shivers of anticipation down your spine. You muster the nerve to peer down at him and feel faint at the sight of such a gorgeous man hovering over your pussy, looking devilishly up at you.

"J..." you whimper, your voice barely a whisper as you feel his lips begin to press against your most intimate place. The sensation makes you gasp in surprise and instinctively try to shut your legs. He uses a big arm to keep your legs spread so his head and hands had room, his warm mouth alternating between flicking at your clit and sucking on it while his fingers were buried in you. While you can't pry him off if you wanted to, the grip you have on his hair with both hands helps you feel more grounded and gives you something to squeeze when he sucks hickeys into your labia lips.

You cry out his name when your orgasm finally hits, tugging on his hair to pull him as close as you can to your pussy as he bottoms his fingers out in you and sucks at your throbbing clit.

He laughs as he pops off your pussy, "How many orgasms is that for you tonight, baby?"

Your head is spinning and a new ache is growing in the depths of your pussy. You hiss when he slowly removes his fingers, trying to answer him, "Um, maybe three?"

"Mmmm" he practically purrs, crawling back on top of you and covering your mouth with a deep kiss you hadn't expected before pulling away to smile at you, "Being able to still count them means you haven't had enough yet."

You giggle but whine when he's back to nibbling at your neck again, hearing his clothes rustle while he distracts you with kisses, "Jason, you have to wear a condom. They're next to my bed in the dresser."

He lifts his head to glance over to the dresser, "No, they're not. They're on top of it. You and him used two earlier?"

"It-" your ear tips are warm again, "It doesn't matter."

"Right." Jason says and it frustrates you that he still seems slightly peeved about Tim's visit earlier. His body hovers over you as he cranes for the condoms and he chuckles, bringing one of your vibrators into your view underneath him, "I want to see you get ready for me on this while I put this on," he gives you a look like he means business that sends shivers down your spine, "and it better be your favorite setting."

Closing your eyes and trying to not worry about the intense warm feeling spreading across your body in throbbing sensations, you expertly start and find your favorite setting on the sex toy, whining when you find the best spot near your clit. Some part of you is screaming at your decision to close your eyes; it's better for you to focus on what he said in this head-heavy state, but you're also screaming at yourself, begging yourself to just peek at what Mr. Hot Neighbor is packing. Something tells you it'll make the brain fog happening in your head worse.

The sounds of latex and skin quiet down and his lips are back on yours, hotter and heavier than any other. Or maybe that's just how you're seeing it? Your eyes fly open when you feel it bumping against your thigh and your wide eyes meet his teasing ones when he pulls away from the sweaty kiss, smiling down at you.

"How do you want it?"

"...I like it from behind," you shyly state, yelping in surprise when he promptly grabs you by the waist and roughly flips you onto your stomach. It would make sense that all those muscles would be good for something after all. He dips down to nibble on your ear tip and lays some of his bulky weight on you and you feel his penis pressing against your ass.

"What do you like about it?" He asks, and you feel weak and tremble as he grabs your hips and firmly pulls them up so they're flush against his pelvis, hard penis slowly rubbing against your cunt.

You want him to fuck you so badly, and it makes you feel pathetic and slutty given Tim had been here earlier.

"Jason-" Your bratty tone is cut off by him laying a hard smack onto your ass, and you jump in his grasp.

"Answer me or I'm not putting it in," he growls.

"That it's a deep position and it makes me feel full," you confess, feeling feverish from your need, "Please please fuck me."

"Hmmm," he hums, hesitating. In frustration, you wiggle your butt against him, rubbing yourself on his dick in impatience, "Is that it?"

"Why are you being so mean," you pout, attitude dissolving when you feel him prodding against your entrance and gasp, "Jeez, you're big."

"I know you can take it," he says and begins easing it in. You stare down at the blankets your hands are wildly gripping and moan while his entry begins stretching you open, "I'd bet you even like the pain, don't you?"

"Yes and I-I-" you feel like you can't even breathe until he's all the way in, "I can't believe you're so big." You're feeling increasingly dizzy as he slowly inches his way in, feeling a weird static-y sensation building up in your head as he eases into you.

The orgasm hits almost as soon as he bottoms out, and your body begins involuntarily twitching with each throb of your pussy clenching around him. The stimulation is getting to be too much but your moans are loud and lustful as he helps you ride out your climax on him, gripping your hips tightly to keep you glued on his dick. He keeps you plugged up with himself as you twitch on him until you finally stop cumming, trying to catch your breath underneath him after it tore through you.

The silence and stillness is broken by wet sex sounds as he begins thrusting, pulling almost all the way out before burying himself back in decidedly. The pace is slow but each thrust makes you feel like you're possessed when you throw your head back and moan at the sounds, feeling your vision blur.

"Oh," he coos, "would'ya look at that?"

His big hand comes up to wipe at your face and he shows you the drool he just dragged off your chin. His hand disappears from your view and you hear him suck on his fingers, pulling them off with an audible 'pop'. The thought of Jason sucking your spit off his fingers makes you shudder and he feels you clench on his dick like mad again.

"Oh, fuck, just like that, baby," he whines and you whimper in reaction to how fucking good Jason sounds when he whines for you, "Take me just like that."

His pace is faster but he's fucking you just as hard, his fingers digging into your sides as he grips you and pounds you down on him like you were a toy. Feeling yourself inching towards another orgasm, you start whining and repeat to him over and over that it's coming.

"I know," he manages through his grunts, ramming into you now at his own vicious pace, "I'm so close, I know you can cum with me, you can do one more."

Then all at once, as he climaxes and pushes himself all the way in, you feel yourself snap and you spasm on him with your final orgasm, crying out with each pulsing sensation. His moan is choked as you cum with him, and his hips lightly jolt with each twitch of his dick as he empties into the condom. As he and you both come down from your highs, the hands that were gripping your waist slink up and he embraces you from behind, using his weight to ease you down until you're lying on your stomach and he's atop you, breathing heavily.

"Are you okay?" he finally asks, "You're shaking so badly right now."

"I-I'm just..." it's hard for you to finish your sentence. How are you supposed to tell him Tim left without aftercare, you just had more orgasms in one night than you ever had before, and you were scared of how your relationships with both would fare after this night?

"Here, hang on," he says and his weight lifts off of you. His dick slowly begins to slide out of you and you hiss at the sensation, feeling tears spring into your eyes at the settling throbbing pain.

"Woah, hey," Jason's voice breaks through the haze of pain and exhaustion, his touch gentle as he helps you shift from lying on your stomach to settling in his lap. His thumb brushes away a stray tear that escapes your eye. "Tell me what's wrong. Was I too rough?"

You shake your head before he even finishes asking, fighting to keep your voice steady despite the tremble in your bottom lip. "No, you're fine, thank you," you manage, your gaze dropping to your hands. "I'm just tired and sore."

The lie hangs heavy in the air, and you can sense Jason's skepticism in the silence that follows. But to your relief, he doesn't press further. Instead, he wraps his arms securely around you, pulling you close against his chest, your head resting against his shoulder. He rubs slow circles into your back as you sniffle in his arms.

"Hey," he murmurs, "You know you can tell me anything, right? Whatever it is, I'm here for you."

Your mind races with uncertainty. You worry if you're being too vulnerable, too open with him. After all, you haven't known each other for that long, and revealing this level of distress feels scary to you. Summoning a shard of courage, you lift your head from his shoulder, meeting his gaze tentatively. His eyes are filled with worry, yet there's a glimmer of relief as you finally meet his gaze through your tears.

"Hey," you begin softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Do you think... could you maybe grab us some water and Advil? Just for now? They're both in the kitchen."

The request feels small in comparison to the weight of your emotions, but it's a start. Without another word, he gently eases you out of his lap, tucks a pillow next to you for your comfort, and stands up. Quickly throwing on his boxers and his shirt, he leaves. Your gaze lingers on his retreating form, admiring his physique and pondering once again how he acquired the scars that litter his torso and upper thighs.

The dull ache in your body becomes more pronounced, each movement sending waves of discomfort rippling through you. You shift on the bed, muscles protesting as you try to find a more comfortable position. A quiet groan escapes your lips, the pain a sharp reminder of the intensity of your recent sexual escapades. It feels like it's been longer than it should be, but you swallow the fear he's left you like Tim did, trusting that he'd come back.

As Jason returns, you feel a twinge of relief wash over you. He's carrying not only the Advil and your reusable bottle of water but also a small bag of cookies, which he sheepishly explains his roommate baked for him. He brought a cup of water from the kitchen for himself, bringing out a packet of powder that he poured in.

"Hey, I've got an extra," he mentions, showing you another packet from his pocket, "If you're game, we could watch a movie or hang out for a bit."

Taking the packet, you see it's an edible drink mix, and your devious grin makes him laugh. Letting him give you his freshly mixed cup, you guzzled it greedily, swallowing a couple painkillers down with it. As he used your water bottle to pour himself a new cup, you tried to stand and instead felt very dizzy, plopping back down on your sheets.

Jason is quick to steady you, "Are you okay?" he asks, his voice again laced with worry.

You manage a weak nod, trying to shake off the dizziness. "Yeah, just need to shake it off," you reply, though you're not entirely convinced yourself.

He stays close, gauging your condition, "What do you need right now?"

You pause, considering your options, "A shower would be good. I think the Advil and the weed will help my pain, but I can't relax if I don't feel clean."

"Okay," he says, "Let's get you over there."

You lean on him for support as you push yourself upright, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over you. With Jason's arm securely around your waist, he helps ensure you don't stumble or lose your balance on your way through your bedroom to your bathroom.

He hesitates for a brief moment when you get there, his protective instincts kicking in. "I'm not sure leaving you alone right now is the best idea."

"You're right," you concede, feeling a bit shy, "I'd feel safer with you here. Would you mind sticking around? Just in case? I could use the company."

"Absolutely," he affirms, a flicker of intensity in his gaze. "Consider me your personal bodyguard."

It's really less awkward than you thought it might be, with him just helping you step over the tub and closing the curtain behind you. It was honestly a good idea to have him there, since every time you bent over to reach the shampoo or soap up, you'd feel so dizzy you thought you'd fall. You decided to keep it brief, soaping up the necessities and rinsing off quickly while he chatted about his day-to-day. Apparently the cat was a friends and he was watching it for them, his boss was a dick, and his dad was a jerk. You also let him freshen up with an extra toothbrush you kept for visitors, and he laughed since he lived next door and could have gone to clean up over there.

By the time you were done showering, the weed had gotten to both of you and you couldn't hold back inexplicable giggles as you toweled up like he hadn't seen your naked body up close and personal earlier. Feeling less weak but still dizzy, you stumbled back to the bedroom with Jason attached at the hip, collapsing in bed in a fit of laughter at something super dumb he said. Eventually you pulled an oversized t-shirt over your nudity and some panties, dimming the bedroom lights.

He turned on a show you both liked well enough, and you cuddled into his side, yawning. You were almost asleep when he excused himself with a roll of his eyes, gesturing to his ringing phone. Taking the call in the living room and closing the door to not disturb you, you thought you heard him saying "Ivy" or "patrol", but you were really too hazy between the physical exhaustion, the weed, the Advil, and the eventful evening to pay attention to eavesdropping.

When Jason returned to the warm bed, he pulled the sheets up and you settled back into his arms.

"Hey, how are you feeling now?" He asks softly, "Are you still dizzy?"

"Mmm," you groan sleepily, "I feel better now. Why?"

"No reason, just wanted to check," he says, arms gripping a little tighter, "Have sweet dreams, sparrow."

Crinkling your eyebrows in amusement and smiling at the nickname, you fell back asleep quickly.

Part 1, Part 3: here

[standamianwayne]

yandere!batfam/damian’s twin!reader (conner kent edition!)

quick warning: cursing, one (1) mention of a gun

Conner looks stupid.

He thought he looked good when he and Clark first left the house. Sure, he wasn’t in a three piece suit or nothing, but he had the button up and slacks! Though, he probably guesses his leather jacket cancels out the fancy image. God, why did he think this was a good idea? He is not meant for these Wayne galas.

He feels the heat creeping up his neck to the tips of his ears. The second people start looking, he just wishes he could fly away.

Clark was the one who initially asked him to come, but the one who convinced him was nowhere to be found. When he had told you he was thinking about coming, you had been so excited and practically begged him to follow through. He would, of course, but damn he wished you had been the one to ask him here in the first place. He wished you asked to come to these galas in general (you do, just not the way he wants).

Conner remembers the first time(s) he met you (both in and out of the mask). He met you, as in Damian’s twin sister, Bruce Wayne’s daughter, one of Jon’s best friends— that you, first. It was Jon’s birthday and he had invited his two best friends over to celebrate. They were Wayne kids, from what he had told Clark (which Conner had ‘overheard’), so obviously they were too cool for parties. Jon had all the faith in the world that those two would show up, and, to your credit, you did!

Oh, the first time Conner saw you he knew he was done for. Jon had practically ran outside when you and Damian showed up, and he got to see you as you both stepped into the house. You were slightly overdressed, nothing crazy but it was obvious that your definition of ‘party’ was very different to his. Only half an inch shorter than him* and as pretty as the sun, you truly were a sight to see. He could’ve sworn you looked at him a little longer than everybody else. Which, you did, but mostly cause you were trying to remember how familiar he looked (it’s cause you remembered he was Tim’s friend).

Then, he met you again. The all-black-and-red wearing, night-stalking, crime fighting vigilante— that you. He had been slinking around Gotham in the late hours of the night. When the sky went dark, save for the moon and stars, and the real bad guys and boogeymen came out to play. So dark and gloomy, the polar opposite of Metropolis.

He knew someone was in the alley he was walking past— of course he did! But honestly? He was bored out of his mind. So, he just pretended to be oblivious and walk by, waiting to see what would happen.

Conner wishes he could say it was a surprise that he was met with a gun pointed at his head. He can’t recall what exactly the guy said to him, but it was probably a threat about giving him his wallet.

No, he can’t remember that guy. But he does remember you. Now, at the time he didn’t know that it was pretty-girl-from-Jon’s-party you, but he did know that you looked really fucking cool when you took down that guy. A swift kick to disarm him, a punch to his face, and the guy was out! Damn, Batman’s kids really are strong, huh?

You turned to look at him, and he felt just a twinge of disappointment at seeing the helmet covering your face. But then you spoke to him and he almost swooned at your voice. Granted, it was a bit muffled and you may have used a voice synthesizer— but that doesn’t matter! You asked if he was okay! Ugh, you are just so considerate.

A quick warning to stay away from this corner of the city (and honestly every corner of the city), and you were off. He likes to reminisce about that day often. When he got home, he found himself smiling at the ceiling as he thought of you. Both you — little miss Wayne — and you — ass-kicker of the night. Later, when he put the two together, he liked that you guys had at least one thing in common.

Now he was here, at one of your family’s galas, looking for you. He could almost cry when he finally spots you. You look beautiful, as you always do, and you’re talking and smiling with a group of older women. ‘Of course,’ he thinks, ‘your family would probably throw any old man that comes near you out a window.’

But he can’t dwell on that thought for long. Not when he sees you for the first time tonight and feels almost desperate to be near you (what else is new?). So he begins to make his way to you, wiping his now sweaty palms on his pants.

You notice him approaching, because duh! He’s wearing his stupid leather jacket, which definitely makes him stick out like a sore thumbs. You excuse yourself quickly from those women.

“Conner,” He almost feels his breath catch in his throat. He’s seen you in so many outfits but somehow every single one gets him the same way. Maybe it’s not the outfits. “you came.” You say with a smile on your face.

He says your name back, the sound almost coating his throat and makes his tongue feel like lead. “I did,” he gives a smile back, one he hopes to be charming but knows to make him look like a dork. “You look” ‘Say beautiful!’ he urges in his head, “… nice.” ‘Damn it!’ “Like, really nice.”

You let out a breath, one he can recognize as amusement. “Thank you. You dress up well.” You reply, though he catches the look you give his jacket. He feels heat crawling up his neck and painting the tips of his ears. It only gets worse as you brush your hand over his bicep. Brushing off dust or coping a feel, he wouldn’t mind either honestly. Any touch of yours makes him feel like he’s going to faint.

“It, uh,” he leans in a bit, that same dorky grin on his face, “It’s a part of my look.” He thinks you’re the only girl to make him nervous.

Your eyes hold a mixture of amusement and skepticism, a slight furrow of your eyebrows and a widening of your own smile. “Your look, right. Well you’ve certainly found a way to stand out from the crowd. Congratulations, that’s no small feat.”

And now you’re teasing him. God, he really likes you, doesn’t he? “Why, thank you.” He gives a small bow and thanks his super hearing for being able to pick up on the slightest chuckle leaving your lips. “Are there any snacks here?” He asks after standing up. He could just make idle conversation, but it’s more likely that you won’t get stolen away if you’re showing him the ropes.

“They’re called hors d'oeuvres” ‘Yeah, whatever you say, beautiful’ “and yes, we have them,” You take his arm (holy shit you take his arm) and start guiding him wherever.

Alright, Conner admits, maybe he doesn’t look that stupid.

*realistically, given Bruce and Talia’s heights, reader would be about 5’8.5, while Conner is 5’9 canonically. the only reason this is here is bc i want tall girl rep tbh, so just ignore it if you want, it’s not important

merry early christmas (if you celebrate), here’s a gift! this is my first ever attempt at writing an actual ‘story’ (one shot? blurb? idk these terms guys help) so i hope it’s alright.

i kinda want to characterize conner as like a cocky smartass who loses that cockiness around the girl he likes. because! why not! i just think it’s cute

and dw if you don’t want conner as the only love interest, cause i assure you there will be more (blame it on the wayne genes tbh LMAO)

as always, any comments, requests, criticism, anything! is appreciated greatly. happy holidays, bye byeeeee ❤️

[hana-no-seiiki]

Sorry for the long hiatus. My meds for my bipolar disorder have made it very difficult to have inspiration/motivation for anything aside from normie activities.

Anyways I have a lot planned for this year! Hopefully you guys enjoy these works that have been in the backburner for a while while now. Love yall.

Without further ado, here’s a little drabble/some hcs as appetizers.

YANDERE BATFAM x HAREM! READER

tw/cw: DID coded shenanigans. Multiple Readers converge from my other works. Confusing fuckery. Yun writing without his meds. Featuring @sophiethewitch1 ‘s loser reader from What We Want. Mad Genius! Reader.

inspired by: The Herta (Honkai Star Rail) and a lil Iron Man.

Okay it but wouldn’t it be fucking hilarious if Reader gave the boys a harem of their own.

Like perhaps they’re just this immortal genius that creates puppets. Each with its unique personality and looks. But all of them share one thing, a love for their creator and the batfam. (And are all under your control…mostly)

Let’s start with your failures shall we? After all, the most precious thing to a genius like you, is your mistakes. However few or many there are.

You created Cat Villain! Reader as a test. No flashy powers beyond invisibility and teleportation. What you did give them however, was a whole load of sass and mystique. Something that drew in the Robins pretty well at first, but they soon lose interest in favor of … well

another work of yours was Alien! Reader. The goody two shoes with a dark side. (You couldn’t make them perfectly straight and narrow, that would have been far too boring). But Alien! Reader started dating Damian way too quickly. And everyone seemed so happy with the arrangement that you quickly ended it all. Swiftly killing your puppet in a fit of boredom. (Don’t worry, you kept some spare parts in order to rebuild them later on if such a whim caught your fancy)

Now, What We Want! Reader was special. It took a lot of time, effort, and whole butt load of money. Crossing dimensions was a lot more difficult than you thought it would be. But of course, in the end, your perfect self managed to pull through.

Replacing the original What We Want! Reader with a puppet that housed a soul from another world? Genius. Absolutely brilliant. You should reward yourself with how smart you are.

Unfortunately the boys got too excited and locked her up. Almost removing your access to one of your favorite experiments! How could they?

And so you send her back home. Safe and sound (and ready for part two!)

While looking through other dimensions, a certain manga/anime caught your eye. Makima! Reader was inspired from the character herself. And Bruce’s lack of participation and eagerness in some of your previous tests. And so you made his utter nightmare. One who killed when it was necessary and kill you did.

Unfortunately Makima! Reader almost made [Favorite DC Villain] pass away and you wouldn’t want that happening, don’t you?

In getting What We Want! Reader to your dimension you failed to account one of your stupid puppets getting into the collider by accident. And thus was What’s Up Danger? Reader was born.

You let it roam free for the most part, but for some reason time seemed to loop around them meeting the batboys for the first time and would never go beyond it. (Probably cause the author hasn’t updated in a dozen amber eras at this point)

Exasperated and in dire need of some fun in your life. You bring back all the readers one last time.

And oh, the chaos that ensued was one for the ages.

Finally, a success.

©️ h.n.s. - yun | 2025

[spideryoink]

My drug of choice? Any of the bats/birds saying “help” at a normal volume and their designated super is suddenly there

Mmmmmm

[flwrkid14]

Ghosts of Gotham: Tim Drake is a Halfa

Danny wasn’t exactly sure what he expected when he met Gotham’s infamous vigilantes, but “Red Hood smells like death and swamp water had a baby” definitely wasn’t on the list. The moment he stepped into the room, Danny gagged so hard he nearly fell out of the air.

“Holy Ancients,” he wheezed, covering his nose. “What in the name of all things unholy is that?”

Jason, already not thrilled about the random glowing stranger showing up, tilted his helmeted head. “What’s what?”

“That! You! You smell like—oh, man. I can’t even describe it.” Danny waved his hand in front of his face like it might help. “It’s like if ectoplasm went rancid and then you rolled in it for three days straight. Dude, do you know what’s going on with your ecto-situation?”

Jason took a threatening step forward. “You wanna say that again?”

Danny floated higher, clearly not intimidated. “Oh, I’ll say it again. You stink. And not just like regular stink. Like ghost stink. Like, ‘this is a health code violation, and the Ghost Zone is going to fine you’ stink. How are you even standing there right now? Anyone from Amity Park would be side-eyeing you so hard you’d feel it in your soul—what’s left of it, anyway.”

Jason stared, his body language radiating murderous intent. “You are two seconds away from eating pavement, Casper.”

Danny, unbothered, pointed at his own chest. “Excuse me, Phantom. Casper wishes he could pull this look off.”

“Phantom,” Dick interrupted, trying and failing not to laugh, “maybe we could focus on the introductions first?”

Danny gave Jason one last look of pity and floated down. “Fine, fine. But seriously, Big Red, we’re going to have to talk about that. I’ll fix it later. No need to thank me.”

Jason looked ready to commit murder, but Bruce’s glare cut him off before he could say anything.

Once the chaos settled, introductions were exchanged, and things calmed down—relatively speaking. Danny, as it turned out, was impossible to fully calm down. He buzzed around the room like he had endless energy, chatting and throwing out quips that seemed to simultaneously amuse and irritate everyone.

Then Danny’s gaze landed on Red Robin, and everything shifted.

Danny tilted his head, his glowing green eyes narrowing slightly. For a moment, his usual chaos quieted, curiosity taking over. “Huh,” he said softly, almost to himself.

Tim stiffened, his body going taut as though preparing for impact.

Danny floated closer, peering at him with an unnervingly intense expression. “You’re like me.”

Tim’s heart skipped a beat, and he immediately stepped back, his movements sharp and jerky. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do,” Danny said, and his tone was too soft for the others to hear the shift in it. “You’re like me. You’re—”

Tim’s hand twitched at his side, as though debating whether to reach for something or retreat entirely. “Don’t,” he said sharply, his voice low.

Danny blinked, then realization dawned on his face. “Wait… they don’t know, do they?”

“What don’t we know?” Bruce cut in, his voice sharp with suspicion.

Danny ignored him, his gaze locked on Tim. “Oh, man. I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

Tim’s eyes darted toward Danny, his frown deepening as uncertainty clouded his features. He shifted his weight, his fingers twitching at his sides as if fighting the urge to bolt.

He took a step back, then another, his movements slow and almost imperceptible. His breathing quickened, shallow and uneven, as though the air itself had grown heavier. The space around him seemed to shimmer faintly, a distortion that matched the anxiety rippling across his face.

Danny reached out, concern etched in his expression, but Tim flinched. His lips parted as if to say something, but no words came. Instead, the shimmering intensified, and with each passing second, Tim grew more translucent, his form fading like a mirage under the moon.

By the time Danny blinked, Tim was gone, leaving only a faint disturbance in the air where he had been.

The bats froze, their eyes darting around the room.

“What the hell just happened?” Jason demanded, reaching for his guns. “Where’d he go?”

“Did you do something?” Damian snapped at Danny, his hand already on his katana.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Danny held up his hands, his eyes wide with excitement. “Not me! That was all him! Holy Ancients—he can turn invisible?!” A grin split his face as he practically vibrated in place. “This is awesome! Wait—does he shoot ecto-beams too? Or, oh, what if he’s got some crazy transformation I’ve never even seen before? This just keeps getting better!”

Bruce’s expression darkened. “You need to explain. Now.”

Danny sighed, his excitement fading as realization set in. “Okay, but first, I need to go find him. Because if he’s anything like me, he’s probably freaking out right now. So… bye!”

He phased through the floor before anyone could stop him.

———

Danny found Tim perched on the edge of Wayne Industries, staring out at the Gotham skyline. He floated over cautiously, his boots touching down softly on the rooftop.

“Hey,” Danny said, his voice quiet. “Mind if I sit?”

Tim didn’t respond, but he didn’t tell him to leave either, so Danny took that as permission. He sat down cross-legged, giving Tim some space.

They stayed like that for a while, the silence heavy but not unbearable.

Finally, Danny broke it. “Okay, so… not to ruin the moment, but can we talk about how you've had to endure Jason’s ecto-stench this entire time? Because seriously, that’s gotta be a health violation. I mean, I'm half-dead, and even I think it’s concerning. Someone needs to dunk him in a pool of purified ectoplasm or something. I’m gonna file a complaint with—”

Tim laughed. It was soft and brief, but it was real.

Danny grinned, leaning back on his hands. “There it is. I knew you had a laugh in there somewhere.”

Tim sighed, his shoulders loosening slightly. “You’re… a lot,” he admitted.

“I know,” Danny said proudly. “But I grow on people. Like mold. Or fungus.”

Tim huffed another laugh, shaking his head. For a moment, the tension eased, and Danny let the silence settle again before speaking more seriously.

“Look,” Danny said, his voice softer, “I’m sorry I outed you like that. I didn’t know. And if they give you crap about it, I’ll personally make their lives miserable. But… you’re not alone in this, okay? I mean, yeah, it sucks. A lot. But you’ve got me now, because there’s no way we’re not becoming best friends now, and I get it.”

Tim looked at him, his eyes glassy but steady. “Thanks,” he said quietly. He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Do you really get it? I mean, you know what it’s like to…” His voice trailed off, thick with hesitation.

Danny tilted his head, his tone softer now. “Yeah. I know what it’s like.”

Tim let out a breath, shaky but determined. “I died.. a few months ago.”

Danny blinked but didn’t say anything, giving Tim space to continue.

“Harley—she caught me. Took me, actually. I was gone for weeks. They—she—handed me over to Joker. It was like a… gift. She thought it’d fix their relationship or something, I don’t know.” Tim’s voice faltered, his gaze flickering to the floor as if the memories were too much to hold. “I held out as long as I could. I kept fighting, kept trying to survive, but…”

He shook his head, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Weeks of it. Beatings. Electrocutions. I don’t even remember the exact moment my heart stopped. I just… wasn’t there anymore.”

Danny stayed quiet, his face a mix of empathy and understanding.

“Harley panicked,” Tim continued, his words tumbling out like a confession. “She thought she’d gone too far, that Joker would kill her next. So she tried shocking me back. Guess she half-suceeded? I only came back halfway.” He gestured at himself vaguely, his hands trembling. “I’m not the same. I’m not… whole.”

Danny nodded slowly. "You’re stuck between," he said, offering the words with quiet reassurance.

Tim nodded, biting his lip. “Yeah. Between.” He paused, looking up at Danny. “I haven’t told anyone because… how do you tell them something like that? How do you tell your family you’re not really alive? That their search was all in vain? That I still died, even though they looked so hard for me? I can’t make them think they failed.” His voice wavered. “They were so scared when they found me…”

Danny stayed with him in the silence, his presence a steady comfort.

Tim exhaled slowly, rubbing his face. “I thought I was weak. I thought if I told them what really happened, they’d think I was broken. And I didn’t want to be a burden.” He looked up at Danny. “I’m still not used to this. Not used to being… like this. I don’t even know how to control it—sometimes I phase through walls, other times I get stuck halfway. And the invisibility thing… I can’t even make it work without disappearing when I get too emotional.”

Danny’s gaze softened with understanding as he leaned in slightly, his voice steady but gentle. He hummed thoughtfully, “It’s a lot to handle all at once.”

Tim's shoulders slumped as he leaned closer to Danny, “I’ve been trying to figure out how to control it, but every time I get close, something goes wrong. And I didn’t want anyone to think I was weak or… freakish, so I kept pretending everything was fine. It was easier that way. Easier than explaining… all this.” He exhaled slowly, the exhaustion in his voice evident. “At least it was… until you showed up.”

Danny reached out, resting a hand on Tim’s arm in a quiet gesture of comfort. “I don’t think you’re a freak. You’re just different, like me. But that doesn’t make you broken. You’re still you.” He paused, meeting Tim’s gaze. “I know what it’s like.. to feel different, freakish, the whole nine yards. For what it’s worth? You're handling it a lot better than I did.”

Tim gave him a tight smile, the first real one in a while. “Thanks. It helps. More than you know.”

———

When they returned to the Batcave, Tim sat down with the others, Danny sticking close by his side. Tim took a deep breath and told them everything—about being captured by Harley, the weeks of torture at the Joker’s hands, the electrocutions that had stopped his heart. About how Harley had panicked and shocked him back to life, halfway. How he wasn’t entirely human anymore.

The family listened, their expressions ranging from horror to guilt to anger. Jason looked ready to kill someone, and Bruce’s usually stoic face betrayed a crack of regret. Tim hesitated as he explained why he hadn’t told them sooner, his voice faltering but honest.

Tim’s voice cracked slightly as he spoke, “I didn’t want you to think you failed… that you searched for me for nothing,"

Danny stayed quiet but stayed close, resting a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “For the record,” he said, glaring at the others, “if any of you give him crap about this, you’re gonna have to deal with me. And trust me, I will make your lives miserable.”

Tim gave him a small, grateful smile. For the first time, he didn’t feel quite so alone.