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jaythes1mp · 3 months ago

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Here, Kitty.

Yan batfam x cat hybrid reader -> CH2

14925 words, 84394 characters, 792 sentences, 338 paragraphs, 59.7 pages. Previous chapter

As you come back to consciousness, you find yourself nestled comfortably on a luxurious cat bed that feels almost too extravagant to be real. The surroundings are lavish and comfortable, the room itself enormous, with almost too much space to take in all at once.

You're not sure where you are, but one thing you know for certain – is that it is definitely not your apartment.

You push yourself up from the plush bed, your paws sinking into the decadent fabric as you take a moment to survey your surroundings. The room is a mix of modern and traditional, with a hint of something distinctly Wayne Manor-esque. The furnishings are plush and expensive, and the entire room is immaculate, every surface spotlessly clean.

You can see a large window at the far end of the room, offering a view of Gotham City’s skyline.

You take another moment to look around, taking everything in as you process your new surroundings. It seems you're in a large living room of sorts, furnished with rich, high-end furniture and expensive-looking decor. Tall bookshelves line the walls, filled with all manner of books and trinkets. The most striking feature, however, is the excessive number of cat trees and wall climbers scattered throughout the room.

Confusion overtakes you for a moment, your mind still fuzzy from sleep as you try to figure out what the hell happened to lead you here.

As you shift up, adjusting your position on the plush bed, a small, bell-like sound rings through the air. In that moment, the memories flood back to you all at once. Nightwing, Robin, the strange collar.

The sudden, restrictive feeling around your neck is a stark reminder of your current predicament.

As the memories come flooding back to you, you instinctively try to raise a paw to rub at the collar around your neck, only to find that it's fastened on tight, the hooks holding it in place digging into your fur. Your movements are still a little sluggish from your previous unconscious state, making you feel more vulnerable than usual, trapped, in a place you don’t recognise.

As your gaze drifts downwards, you suddenly notice the subtle aching in your leg and near the base of your spine. Upon a more thorough inspection, you realise that there are small, almost imperceptible stitches in your fur, between the muscles on your left thigh. Panic rises within you, the realisation that something has been done to your body sending a wave of nausea through you, making you feel sick to your very core.

The fear washes over you in full force as you register the sight of the stitches on your body. It's not just the knowledge that someone has tampered with your body, but the thought that you were unconscious and vulnerable when it happened. Your heart races with a sickening anxiety, the fear coursing through you making your senses hyper-aware.

You quickly scramble up from the cat bed, your body a whirlwind of motion, you leap off the plush fabric, landing on the soft, carpeted floor with a thump. Your body is tense, nerves on edge, as you instinctively try to take in your surroundings. Your pupils have narrowed into slits, tail whipping around wildly, betraying your anxiety.

You start moving across the room, treading softly on the plush carpet beneath your paws, every muscle in your body tense and poised, ready to flee or fight at a moment's notice. Prepared for any surprise.

As you move through the room with tentative, calculated steps, your mind is on high-alert, taking in every single detail. From the placement of the furniture, to the large window at the far end, to the faint sound of a clock ticking on the wall, everything registers in your heightened senses.

There's a strange sense of being both trapped and exposed, in this grand space that is simultaneously familiar and foreign. The uncertainty of what might come next hangs over you like a dark cloud.

You go completely still, your fur standing on end, your ears perking up and shifting in the direction of the hallway. Your entire body tenses in anticipation as you listen to the loud, precise footsteps approaching you.

Every instinct in you screams danger, so you quickly ready yourself to either flee or fight.

A tall, slender butler emerges from the hallway, his pale blue eyes scanning the room before his gaze lands on your bristled, tense form. A single grey eyebrow raises slightly in surprise as he continues to look at you.

"You're up earlier than planned, young master," he remarks, his voice calm and even. A hint of curiosity laced within his tone.

The butler's casual demeanour is a stark contrast to the tenseness of your own body. His eyes linger on you with a sort of cool curiosity, taking in your fluffed up form. He looks unfazed by your reaction, his calm composure making it feel like this is a completely normal, everyday occurrence.

Your heart races as the words sink in, your mind racing with confused fear. What the fuck. Why is he calling me 'young master'? Where the hell am I, and what the hell is happening.

The situation feels entirely surreal, and more than a little bit terrifying. You just want to go back to the safety and familiarity of your own home, but instead you're here, trapped in this lavish living room, with a strange butler calling you by some title you've never even dreamed of being addressed by before.

The butler watches you closely, his cool blue eyes scanning over every little detail of your tense form, noting your bristled fur, your tail that's whipping around wildly, and the panicked look in your wide, dilated eyes. A hint of intrigue flashes through his expression as he takes in your state.

Then, he speaks again, his calm and steady voice betraying his thoughts.

"It seems the sedative is wearing off a little faster than expected," he says, taking a few steps closer to you. His voice sends a new wave of unease through you.

The calm, casual vibe the butler is giving off, coupled with the little almost-smile on his face, makes your already overdriven senses go into a frenzy. Every fibre of your being is screaming danger, and you instinctively take a step back, hackles raised further, your body tensed and ready to bolt.

Your fear and panic have heightened every one of your senses, and you're on edge, ready to react to any sudden movement or sound. You're poised to run, or if need be, fight. You try to keep your breathing steady, but the anxiety is bubbling up inside of you, making it difficult to stay still.

The butler's observant gaze is on you, studying your every move as you take a step back, your body tense in a flight-ready stance. He notices the panic etched into your form, and for a moment, he doesn't approach. Instead, he stands a few feet away, his hands clasped behind his back, his form composed and relaxed.

After a brief pause, he speaks up again, his voice soft and apologetic.

"I apologise for the state you woke up in," he says, that almost imperceptible smile still playing on his lips.

The man’s apology catches you off guard, a tiny flicker of surprise in your wide, dilated eyes. The politeness of his tone combined with that smile makes him seem almost eerily calm, given the situation you're currently in. Even though his words are apologetic, there's a subtle undercurrent of something else in his tone that you can't quite place.

The older man continues to watch you, his cool, observant gaze tracking every little movement you make, from the twitching of your whiskers to the rise and fall of your fluffy chest as your anxiety makes your breaths a little more laboured.

He takes a few steps closer toward you, his movements slow and deliberate. He's treating you like a wild beast, trying not to startle you further.

"It was necessary for the procedure to ensure your safe arrival, young master," he continues, his voice still soft but firm. It's as if he's trying to reassure you, despite the fact that his words do nothing but the opposite.

You shiver as the butler moves closer to you, your body tensing even further as you try to assess the potential threat he may pose. The apology and the explanation for your current state do little to ease the fear and confusion swirling within you. The dubbed name young master is foreign and bizarre and does nothing to help the situation.

You're on edge, your muscles coiled tight like a spring, ready to dart away the moment you sense any danger. But the butler isn't making any sudden moves, his calm demeanour and soft, even tone sending a confusing message.

The butler's eyes are observant, taking in every single twitch and jerk of your tensed body. He seems to recognise your anxiety, your coiled form ready to dart away given the opportunity. Yet he isn't visibly phased, his composed demeanour and soft, almost soothing voice unfazed by your obvious distress.

He takes another slow step toward you, his movements deliberate and careful.

"I understand your fear and confusion," he repeats, as if he was trying to reason with a frightened animal. Which in this case, wouldn’t be entirely wrong. However, beneath the soft, reassuring tone of his voice, there's still something else present, something you can't quite identify. “But you have nothing to be afraid of here.”

You swear that you could hear a hint of warning in his carefully crafted speech.

He's close enough now to reach out a pale hand toward you, his fingers outstretched. From this angle, the butler seems considerably taller, more imposing, and more dangerous than he appeared before, his gaze calm and calculating.

The tension in the room is palpable, and the clock on the wall seems to be the only other source of sound, beating in tune with your fast, panicked heart. He is entirely calm, his gaze cool and calculating, studying you carefully, like a hunter watching its prey.

"Come here, young master." He says in that soft, smooth, insistent tone.

You feel frozen in place, your mind racing with panic and despair. The options before you seem limited, the need to flee battling against the growing realisation that escape might not be a feasible option, especially with the butler's hand inching closer. Your body trembles slightly, your wide, alarmed eyes fixated on his approaching hand, the subtle threat underlying his words making it clear that the consequences of running away might be dire.

His voice, though soft and controlled, leaves no room for debate or refusal. The command in his words is clear.

He expects you to come to him.

You feel as if time stands still, your fear and tension making everything around you seem heightened, as if every fibre of your body was hyper-aware. The butler's hand is still gently moving closer, as if he was simply going to reach out and scoop you up, as if he had done it a thousand times before.

Your mind is swirling with fear and confusion, your thoughts chaotic and jumbled. You can't think clearly, and yet the old man exudes an air that somehow compels your trembling little paws to move forward, into his extended hand. Your every instinct is screaming at you that this man is dangerous, that getting any closer is a bad idea, but the mixture of fear, feeling of dizziness, and the authoritative atmosphere around him seems to overpower your logic. You don’t want to find out what would happen if you went against him.

A subtle victorious smile plays on the corner of the butler's lips as you begin to move forward, stepping into the range of his hand. He can practically feel your internal conflict and fear, and yet he shows no visible sign of it bothering him. His eyes remain steadfast, his expression and demeanour calm and composed.

"That's it," he murmurs, a hint of satisfaction in his tone, his hand closing around your small form, carefully but firmly holding you in his grasp, just tight enough to keep you from bolting.

You find yourself held against the butler's chest as he carefully lifts you off the ground, cradling you against him, his hold on you surprisingly gentle yet unyielding. The warmth of his body against your small form is an odd, almost confusing contrast to the fear and confusion you're currently feeling.

He begins walking across the living room, carrying you as if he was holding a fine piece of art. Every one of your senses is on high-alert, and you can feel the steady, calm beat of the butler's heart against your small form.

His steps are sure and controlled, his pace steady. He says nothing, his eyes looking ahead as he carries you through the lavish living room. Every step he takes seems to bring more and more confusion, the whole scene seeming like some sort of surreal fever dream.

The living room is large and open, with high ceilings and several plush couches and armchairs arranged around a grand, stone fireplace. The rich decor, the tall bookshelves, and the numerous cat trees and climbing structures give the room a distinct 'manor' vibe.

Everything in the room seems to scream 'wealth' and 'luxury', the opulence of Wayne Manor perfectly represented in this single, large room.

Despite the grandeur of the room, the butler's attention seems to be solely on you, his eyes focused on your small form he's cradling.

He speaks up, his tone is matter-of-fact and business-like, his words sending a shiver down your spine. "Master Dick has requested your immediate presence.” He speaks softly, as if his words would clear everything up. You don't know who this Master Dick is, but the urgency in the butler's voice tells you that it's probably someone important.

His words linger in your mind like a heavy weight. You have no idea who they are, but the way the butler addresses them and the air that surrounds him leaves no room for doubt that the person is someone important, someone powerful.

He walks out of the living room, and a wave of cold, stark realisation washes over you, a sense of hopelessness that comes with the knowledge that you have absolutely no say in this. You are at these people’s mercy.

The halls of the manor that you find yourself in are long and wide, the floor carpeted and the walls lined with expensive and elaborate paintings and decorations. The place itself is beautiful, but you're unable to appreciate any of it, your mind racing and your heart beating rapidly. A fuzzy feeling basked over the back of your mind.

The butler carries you down the halls, his steps long and unhurried, making you acutely aware of how small and helpless you are in this unknown, vast, and intimidating place.

As you're brought through the seemingly endless halls, your mind is bombarded with a barrage of thoughts, all of them chaotic and confused. You try to look for a way to escape, but everything here is unknown and unfamiliar, and you have no idea which doors might lead outside, or if there are any windows you might be able to jump out of.

Your small form cradled almost carefully against his chest, his grip strong and unyielding. There's a sense of detachment with which he carries you, handling you like an object, a thing to be used and given.

The halls continue to pass by in a blur of rich colours and patterns, the only sounds being the steady thud of the butler's footsteps and your ragged, stressed breathing.

After what feels like an eternity, the man stops his movements. You find yourself standing before a large, grand-looking door, it's dark wood carved with elaborate designs and patterns. It looks like it’s been freshly cleaned, as if it used to home someone and they’ve only now started using it again. The door radiates a sense of importance, and you feel the pit of your stomach clench in fear.

He adjusts his grip on you, positioning you to be more presentable as he reaches with one hand to knock three times on the door. He looks down at you, a slight flicker of something in his eyes, and then he waits.

Your ears involuntarily fold back upon hearing the heavy, fast footsteps approaching. The door is practically wrenched open with a thud, and a tall male stands in the doorway. He’s grinning widely, his eyes almost shimmering in the light, and his gaze immediately settles on you.

The man’s presence is imposing, and you feel yourself involuntarily shrinking back against the butler, not knowing what to expect. He looks at you with a mix of curiosity and amusement, his grin widening as he takes in your small form.

The man who stands before you is tall, and broad-shouldered. He's dressed in casual wear, a light, well-fitted hoodie stretched over his wide chest tucked into dark jeans. His face holds an almost boyish charm, framed by dark, wild hair that tumbles over his forehead.

His eyes are a bright, intense blue, and right now they're fixed directly on you. There's a hint of both curiosity and amusement in his gaze as he looks you over.

His demeanour changes almost instantly at the sight of you, his intense gaze softens as he takes you from the older man’s grasp by the scruff. He holds you up in the air, and you don't even have time to react before he's speaking.

"There's our baby." He coos, and there's a hint of something affectionate in his tone. The nickname baby is weird and confusing, but the man acts as if it's something perfectly normal. You’re not sure how to act. Everything’s happening too fast and you’re barely able to think, mind still hazed with sleep.

He doesn’t hold you forcefully, his grip not harsh but not soft either. You can almost feel the possessiveness in the touch, the way he looks at you, the sense of almost casual possessiveness. It’s like he believes that he has every right to be touching you, holding you, like you belonged to him. As if you were something he owned.

"Look at you…" he murmurs, his eyes taking in your form as he holds you up. "So pretty in person…"

There's a sense of satisfaction in his tone, as if you're better than what he had expected, and he's pleased by what he sees.

You can’t stop yourself from the deep, guttering hiss that escapes you as the man speaks, a mixture of fear, irritation and helplessness rolling through you. You hate how vulnerable you feel in his grasp, being held up in the air by this stranger, unable to break free.

The man chuckles, the sound loud and booming to your sensitive ears.

"Aww…" he coos. "I’m sorry, am I frightening you, little one?”

He holds you up to his eye-level, observing you with an amused yet soft grin, his eyes dancing with both curiosity and something else.

Your tail instinctively lashes around, thrashing in the air, trying to find a way to defend yourself, to break free of the strangers grip. But your body is slacking, the instinct to go limp when a predator has your scruff almost overpowering.

The position you’re in is uncomfortable and vulnerable and you’ve never been handled like this before. You’re finding it hard to move your limbs, breathing fast and overwhelmingly stressed. The helplessness of being carried like this is overwhelming. You want to scream and cry and run as far and fast as possible.

But you don’t. You forcibly stop yourself from letting the helplessness get to you. You refuse to give them the satisfaction of seeing you scared, of seeing you so exposed.

I’m better than that, you tell yourself. Better than them. You’re stronger than that. You might be small right now, but you’re also stubborn as hell, and you’ll be damned if they get the satisfaction of seeing you scared.

He studies you intently, his eyes taking in every little detail of your form, from the twitching of your ears to the frantic movement of your tail. He’s still holding you up, his hold on your scruff not slacking in the slightest. His gaze fond and amused.

He lets out another small, amused chuckle at your reaction, his lips tugged into a small smile. “Don’t worry, kitten. You’re safe with me..”

His attention shifts back to the other man for a moment, giving him a nod of thanks. “Thanks, Alfred.”

The older man, Alfred apparently, gives him a small nod, his gaze is still set on you. "Of course, sir.” A slight frown on his face as he looks at the man holding you, Master Dick apparently, a mix of concern and knowing in his eyes. “Be careful. The sedative is still in their system.” The man gives a small hum in response, seemingly not bothered by the warning.

Alfred lingers there for a moment, looking at you, then looking at the man, a silent exchange between the two of them. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

And then, without another word, he turns and walks away, disappearing back down the hallway.

"Alfred is a worrier," The man mutters as he watches the butler walk away. He gives you a small, almost sheepish smile. "Sorry ‘bout that."

He turns back to you and continues scanning your form, his gaze thoughtful and curious. He speaks to you like one might speak to a child. Softly and reassuringly.

"You’re adorable, you know that?" he says, voice low and quiet. "Such a pretty little thing..”

He looks over you with an almost adoring look in his eyes, his thumb gently stroking the fur on the top of your head. You want to recoil from his touch, but you’re unable to do anything but stay paralysed in his grasp.

He seems to find your lack of reaction amusing.

"Not very talkative, huh?" he murmurs, tilting his head slightly to the side, watching your expression closely. "That’s alright. You don’t have to be."

He continues caressing your small form with his free hand, the stroking gentle and almost caring. His eyes flicker down to your ears and he grins. “You’re just a ball of attitude, aren’t you?” he notes, amusement in his tone. “The way your ears fold back every time I talk. So defensive.. Seems my youngest siblings are similar in that respect” He grins softly, pressing a kiss to your fluffy coat.

You freeze up, caught off guard by the unexpected and strange gesture. For a moment you’re too surprised to react, your body going limp before stiffening quickly again.

Your mind is reeling, trying to process this unexpected level of intimacy, from a complete stranger, no less. What the hell is up with this guy? He’s acting like I’m a pet. The thought is both angering and demeaning, you watch him with a mix of confusion and wariness in your eyes.

He brings you close to his chest, cradling your small form against him. His fingers run through your soft fur in a way that almost tickles, the feeling making your skin crawl a bit. The doors close behind him with an audible snap, the sound a little too loud to your sensitive ears.

Your eyes scan the room, taking in the ridiculous amounts of cat-related objects that are placed everywhere. Drawers filled with little outfits, toys littered around, cat cushions, scratch pads, catnip balls stuck to the walls, and more. You almost grimace at the sight.

The room is a cat’s dream, filled to the brim with cat toys and decorations. A large, king-size bed dominates the centre of the room, covered with different patterns of soft blankets, a pile of various pillows and cushions scattered around it. It’s like a cat paradise, and an absolute nightmare for you.

The man carries you further in, taking a seat on the bed and making himself comfortable. He continues to hold you close, rubbing the nape of your neck, his touch too soft. Like he was silently apologising for handling your scruff so roughly.

He plops down on the bed unceremoniously, the springs creaking under his weight. He adjusts his hold on you to make you more comfortable, his grip a bit more lax now, but still firm enough to keep you pressed against him.

His eyes run over your form, looking you up and down, like he’s mentally checking you over. He’s studying me. He takes in every little detail. Every twitch of your ear, every lash of your tail, the way you instinctively hunch in on yourself. “... Damian’s not going to be happy with the state of your fur, little one..”

He reaches out to pet you, not expecting the swift response as you quickly smack his hand away, your claws drawing lines of bright red across the back of his hand.

He jerks backwards, yowling softly, his expression going momentarily shocked as he looks at the deep thin red lines across his skin.

He stares at you for a moment, surprised and probably pained, but also...almost impressed?

"That hurt you know..” he grumbles, more amused than mad.

"...But that’s okay. Siblings fight all the time." He mutters, still looking at his hand, the long red lines standing out against his tan skin. He sounds like he’s talking more to himself than to you.

His gaze then moves to look at you, and his expression is mildly entertained. He gives you a small teasing smile.

"Just wait until the others find out how feral you are. They'll have a field day with you.." The way he speaks is as if he’s joking, but his words make your fur stand on edge. He’s calling any person's natural reaction to getting kidnapped feral.

As you replay his words in your head you freeze. Others? You repeat in your mind, a sickening feeling settling in your gut. Just how many of them are there?

He seems to notice your reaction to his words, noticing your stiffened form and the look of dread on your face. He gives a small hum, his fingers running through your fur gently, a look of feigned innocence on his face.

"Is something wrong?" he asks softly, his tone almost patronising. He keeps his voice gentle, like a big brother speaking to his smaller child sibling.

"Did the mention of our siblings scare you?"

He continues to run his fingers through your fur as he talks, his tone still soft. "I'm sure you'll come to love them.. They're a bit rough around the edges, but they're good kids. Once they warm up to you, that is. And you, lovely, are already in their good graces.” He’s doing it again, speaking to you like you’re a dimwitted animal, something cute and small and incapable of understanding him. It’s demeaning and agitating. It makes me feel pathetic.

Tim's sitting on the kitchen chair, his feet propped up on the marble counter, leaning back casually. His attention was focused on the tablet in his hand. Or at least it was, too occupied with secretly watching as Damian meticulously rearranged the fridge, his brother moving items around to ‘make it look perfect’ for his older sibling’s new arrival.

Tim lets out a soft sigh. Of course. His little brother is almost as obsessive about organisation as Batman himself. He’s not surprised, more amused.

Damian looks over in Tim’s direction for a moment, his eyes catching the sight of Tim’s feet on the table. He rolls his eyes, a small scoff of displeasure escaping him.

"Feet off the table, Drake." Damian says dryly, his focus returning to the fridge and its contents.

"Oh relax, Dames. The table's clean." Tim counters, his tone almost mocking. He knows it annoys Damian to no end, calling him by the childish nickname.

He props his chin up on his hand, watching as his younger brother systematically re-arranges everything in the fridge, his movements quick and precise.

He hums softly, his gaze shifting downward for a moment, before he raises a brow. “Looks like the kitty’s awake.”

His eyes flick over to the live feed on the tablet, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smirk as he sees you. You look uncomfortable and wary, bristled and defensive. The sight causes him to let out a small amused huff of air.

Damian pauses mid-action, a container of fluffy cooked rice held in his hands. He turns to face Tim, a curious look in his green eyes. "Give me the tablet," he demands, holding out his hand expectantly.

Tim raises an eyebrow sceptically, "Why? You wanna spy on em?" He teases.

Damian huffs, crossing his arms in irritation, "I don't spy. I observe." He scoffs.

Tim just rolls his eyes, but relents, handing over the tablet. "Fine. But don't do anything stupid, Demon."

Damian glares at the nickname, but grabs the tablet from Tim's hands without comment. Looking down at the screen, watching the feed intently, his expression contemplative as he observes you. His gaze is sharp and calculating. Scanning over every detail, noticing the way you look around the room, the way you hunch nervously, your ears pinned back and swivelling as you listen for movement.

He tilts his head slightly, studying your form with intense concentration, taking in every little detail. "How long have they been awake?" he asks, not looking away from the screen.

Tim leans back in his chair, propping his feet up on the table again and folding his arms across his chest. He glances at his watch, thinking for a moment.

"Five, ten minutes, I think." Tim responds, leaning back against the chair. He watches as Damian's expression shifts thoughtfully as he studies the screen. Drake can't help but feel a pang of curiosity as well, but he keeps it in check.

There's a beat of silence as Damian continues to watch you, his expression thoughtful. Tim can practically see the wheels turning in his younger brother’s head.

"Hasn’t tried to bolt yet..” Damian notes, his voice quiet as he watches you, studying your movements. “That's... interesting.”

Tim lets out a hum, watching as Damian's expression becomes almost intrigued, like he's analysing your every move.

Silence settles over the room again, only the sound of the open fridges soft buzzing filling the air. Tim notices the way Damian's expression darkens a bit. "They look scared." He mutters, almost disappointed by the observation.

Tim raises an eyebrow at Damian’s observation, watching as the younger Robin frowns a bit.

"They’re probably terrified, to be fair. Would you not be scared, if someone kidnapped you?” Tim points out, his tone a bit sarcastic.

Damian scowls, a small pout forming on his face, the expression making him seem childish.

“I’d be angry, first and foremost.” He counters, his hands clenching slightly. “Not scared.”

He turns back to the fridge, placing the container in its rightful spot. He steps back, taking a moment to observe his work with a critical eye, before glancing back at Tim over his shoulder.

“And we haven’t kidnapped them. We’ve simply brought our little kitten home." He corrects, his tone matter of fact. Like it’s the most logical thing in the world.

Tim just groans exasperatedly, dropping his head forward against the table. He shakes his head in disbelief, rubbing his hand down his face.

"You say it like it's the most normal thing in the world." He mumbles into the table top, his voice slightly muffled.

Damian rolls his eyes, like Tim’s comment is beyond unnecessary and ridiculous.

"It is normal." He says, like he’s explaining something obvious to an idiot.

Tim lifts his head from the table, giving Damian a withering glare. "Abducting people is not normal, Dames." He sighs.

Damian huffs, returning Tim's glare with an equally intense one. "It is to us." He counters, his voice hard and unsympathetic.

Tim just stares at him for a moment. "And that doesn't strike you as concerning at all? The fact that kidnapping is so normal to us?"

Damian’s entire expression hardens, his features going from annoyed to cold and stoic in a matter of seconds. He pivots back to face Tim, his gaze steely and icy.

“Are you implying,” he begins, his voice low and dangerous, “that we return our sibling to the filth they were wallowing in?”

Tim's expression drops, a scowl pulling at his features. "I would never joke about that." He says firmly, his voice taking on a dark edge. "They're ours."

He then turns his attention back to the tablet, watching the screen intently. "I'm simply stating the fact that abduction isn't exactly the most common practice, not that I would ever dream of letting them go."

Damian hums in agreement, his expression still stoic, but his eyes flicker with a possessive light. He watches the tablet as well, the look in his eyes almost wild.

Tim notices the look in the younger boy’s eyes, and he lets out a small huff. "Calm down, Dames." He mutters, his voice a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

Damian simply rolls his eyes, "I am calm." He says dryly, but his eyes never leave the screen, his gaze fixed on your form. He raises a brow as Alfred approaches you over the cams.

Tim just rolls his eyes at Damian's response, not fully believing him.

As the elderly butler steps closer, the tension in your form becomes almost visibly apparent. You stiffen, your body going rigid, ears pinned back against your head, tail bristling like a pincushion.

Damian watches intently, his gaze fixed on the live feed, eyebrows pinching together in something close to disappointment.

“Look at them. They’re terrified by Pennyworth.” He says, his voice low and frustrated.

Tim glances over at Damian, seeing the disapproving look on his face, and smirks a bit. “Of course they are. They don’t know that he’s harmless.”

Damian huffs, his irritation growing. "It’s not about being harmless or not. They should just know that they don’t have anything to fear here."

He keeps his gaze fixed on the screen, his expression one of annoyance and annoyance at your clear fear of the elderly butler, the way you’re bristling like a porcupine. His brows pinching even further at the state of your fur. A disapproving scowl crossing his features.

“Not everyone is like us, Dames.” Tim points out, his tone a mixture of amused and sarcastic. “Not everyone is damaged.”

Damian glares at him, “I am not damaged.” He mutters, his voice a mixture of irritation and defensiveness.

Tim just rolls his eyes. “Of course you are, you’re a Wayne.” He says dryly.

Damian bristles a little bit, his irritation growing a bit more, but he doesn’t take the bait. He continues watching the live feed, watching as Alfred reaches out to grab you, your tense and wary form flinching away as he scoops you up.

He lets out a small sigh of annoyance, his expression still irritated and frustrated. “This is ridiculous.” He mutters, his voice quiet, but clearly annoyed.

“Relax, Dames.” Tim says, a note of amusement in his voice. “You can’t expect them to stop being afraid immediately. They need time to adjust, to get used to us.”

Damian lets out an exasperated huff, his tone sharp. “They shouldn’t have to adjust to us.” He snaps, still glaring at the screen, watching as Alfred holds you carefully, in a way where you can’t hurt him while also like you're a fragile and precious thing.

Tim raises an eyebrow, looking at Damian with a mix of curiosity and understanding. “You want them to just...accept us? Just like that?”

Damian's expression darkens, his expression almost pained for a moment, his eyes never leaving the screen as he watches the way Alfred’s handling you.

“Yes, exactly like that.” He says, his tone firm and underlyingly desperate.

Tim's expression softens a bit, realising how much Damian truly wants you to accept them, that you don’t fear them. His expression becomes almost sympathetic as he watches Damian’s reaction.

"Dames…" he says gently, his voice soft, but firm. “It doesn’t work like that, bud. It’s gonna take time for them to actually warm up to us. They’ve been on the streets for far too long, they’ve been alone for a while.”

His gaze shifts down for a moment. “For now we’ll just have to result to the sedatives to keep them docile.”

Damian's expression pinches, his features shifting into a mix of agitation and discontent. While he loathes the thought of drugging you, he knows that the rest of the family has already made up their minds.

He lets out a quiet sigh, taking in a deep breath through his nose. Closing the fridge door with more force than necessary, his jaw clenching.

Tim notices the look on his brother's face, seeing the clear irritation and disapproval, and rolls his eyes a bit. “I don’t like this.” The youngest Wayne mutters, his tone tight and disapproving.

“It’s necessary.” Tim counters, his tone matter of fact, though there’s a hint of discomfort in his voice.

Damian shoots him a glare, clearly not satisfied with the explanation. He crosses his arms, his expression hardening, his eyes filled with a mixture of irritation and reluctance.

“Is it really necessary?” He snaps, his voice taking an almost bitter edge.

Tim’s expression hardens a bit, not appreciating the attitude. He takes a step forward, his eyes meeting Damian’s in a steady glare. “Yes, it is.” He says firmly. “It’s the most practical solution. We need to keep ‘em under control. You know the others won’t be happy if we let the kitty run wild. Or god forbid they throw a tantrum and hurt one of us. We can handle it, but can Alfred?”

His jaw clenches, his hands balling into tight fists at his sides. He knows Tim’s right, but he doesn’t enjoy that fact. He lets out a frustrated huff, his voice tight and strained.

“I know.” He snaps back. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Tim sighs, his expression softening a notch. He understands Damian’s reluctance, sharing a bit of the same sentiment. But he’s also pragmatic, and right now their needs are priority, not yours.

“I’m not saying you have to like it, Dames. It’s not meant to be enjoyable.” He says, his tone is gentle compared to before. “It’s just what needs to be done. It’s what’s practical. Effective."

Damian’s shoulders sag slightly, his expression shifting into one of reluctant acceptance. He knows that Tim’s right, that practicality should be their primary concern. But it doesn’t sit right with him, treating you like some sort of prisoner. You’re family.

He lets out a soft sigh, his hands uncurling from their tight fists. “Fine.” He mutters, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tim notices the shift in Damian’s demeanour, the reluctant acceptance showing in his expression. He gives his brother a sympathetic look, knowing how hard this is for him. They’re all used to dealing with criminals, dealing with bad people, but using these methods on you feels wrong. Unnatural.

He nods in acknowledgment, giving Damian a small, relieved smile. “It’ll be alright, Dames.” He says genuinely. “You know it’s for the best.”

Damian nods, his features a mixture of reluctance and resignation. He knows that Tim’s right, that this is the best course of action for the situation. But it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow.

“Yes, I know.” He says, his voice quiet, but resigned. “It’s for the safety of the rest of us. For their safety.” He adds, his tone taking on a bitter edge again, as if the words taste rancid on his tongue. “But I still don’t agree with it. I hate that you agree with it.”

Tim lets out a slow, drawn-out sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. He closes his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts. He takes a deep breath before looking back at Damian. “I’m the one who concluded that we needed to sedate them. It’s the safest solution.” He admits quietly, his voice taking on a note of resignation. “It may not be the best option, but it’s the practical one.” His voice started to take on a more tired note. He hates having to repeat himself.

Damian’s expression darkens again, his irritation flaring up once more as he glares at Tim. “You suggested this?” He snaps, his voice tense.

Tim tosses his tablet down onto the counter at Damian's outburst, his expression becoming more guarded. "Yes, I did." He says, his tone firm and unapologetic. "And if you have a better idea, I'd love to hear it." His voice takes on a challenge, a daring note as he glares back at Damian.

The younger Wayne grows irritated at Tim's challenging tone, his eyes narrowing. He opens his mouth, about to shoot back at Tim, the argument on the tip of his tongue. But then he notices the hint of exhaustion in his brother’s eyes, the weary lines etched into his expression. He catches the frustration in Tim's tone, the tiredness seeping through. He closes his mouth, the argument dying on his tongue. He’s painfully aware of the older boy's self destructive habits.

He lets out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sag, and he drops his gaze to the floor. “No. I don’t.” He mutters bitterly.

Their attention is immediately snapped and drawn to the kitchen’s entrance as Alfred appears, a questioning eyebrow raised as he glances between them, seeming to take note of their tense exchange.

Tim’s expression shifts into one of slight relief, glad for the distraction from the argument and the heavy atmosphere of the kitchen.

Damian’s jaw clenches, his features shifting into a tight frown. He glances over at Alfred, his expression impatient and expectant.

“Where are they?” He snaps, his voice taking on a firm, demanding edge.

The butler glances between the two, his eyes lingering on Damian and his irritated expression. “The young master has been taken to Master Dick.” He says calmly, an air of mild reproach in his tone.

Damian’s scowl deepens as he processes Alfred’s words. The thought of you being alone with Dick makes his stomach twist with unease. He knows how overbearing and excessive his eldest brother can be, and he’s not exactly confident in Dick’s ability to handle the situation without causing some sort of incident. Plus, he wanted to be the first person you saw once you had woken up.

Tim, on the other hand, only looks only mildly concerned. He has a bit more faith in Dick’s ability to keep the situation under control, but he’s also not blind to his brother’s tendency to smother and overwhelm. But he has the cameras to watch over just in case the situation turns sour. So he’s not worried.

Damian’s face twists in irritation, and he’s about to demand to know where exactly Dick took you, but Alfred clears his throat before he can speak.

“I’m certain the young master is in safe hands, Master Damian.” Alfred says, his voice calm and gentle, a silent plea for him to hold his tongue.

Damian’s jaw clenches, the muscles in his face tensing further. He hesitates for a moment, wrestling with the urge to argue, but ultimately he swallows the words and just gives a tense nod.

Tim watches the silent interaction between Damian and Alfred, his expression still mostly neutral. He’s silently amused by Damian’s irritation, knowing how the youngest Wayne has very little patience with these kinds of things. But he knows that arguing with Alfred is usually pointless, the old butler’s word usually final.

So he just watches quietly, his gaze drifting towards the live feed fed from the cameras.

You’re curled up under Dick’s bed, body coiled into a small, tense ball. Your fur is bristled and your ears are pinned back, pressed flat against your skull. You’re tense and on edge, waiting silently for any sound from above, listening keenly to the movements of the man sitting on the bed above you who can’t stop giggling.

Grayson is sitting on the edge of his bed, a wide smile on his face as he looks down at the space under his bed. He’s trying to keep his voice relatively quiet, not wanting to startle you further, but he’s too amused to keep his voice completely level. He keeps chuckling to himself, he can’t help it. You were just so adorable. Even when you were angry, all fluffed up and hissing.

“Come on out, little thing.” He coos, his tone gentle and sweet. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

He reaches a hand down, his fingers gently patting the carpet beneath the bed, coaxing you out from your meagre hiding place.

Your tail lashes out, thwacking against the underside of the bed. You roll your eyes at his coaxing, annoyed at the way he’s trying to get you out. As if you’re going to give him the satisfaction of coming out just because he keeps saying he won’t hurt you. How stupid does he think I am?

Dick huffs a quiet, exasperated laugh, clearly amused by your stubbornness. He continues to gently pat the carpet, his voice still gentle and coaxing. “Come on, come out, baby. I just want to talk to you.”

He shifts a bit, trying to get a better view of you under the bed, but he can only see a glimpse of your fluffy rump and tail.

You shift away from his hand, pressing yourself closer to the wall, your eyes locked on his fingers as they continue to pat the carpet. Yeah, right. You think bitterly, your tail whipping around irritably. Like I’m going to fall for that. A guttural hiss leaves your throat. As if I’d come out just because he ‘asked nicely.’ No fucking chance.

Dick can tell that you’re not budging anytime soon. He lets out an amused huff, still smiling down at the space under his bed. “Alright then.” He says with a small laugh, clearly not too bothered by your stubbornness.

“I’m not going to force you out. I can just sit here all day, sweetheart. All day and all night.” He says sweetly, his tone taking on a singsong edge.

Your ears go back, flattening against your head at the mention of him sitting there all day. You shoot a withering glare at his fingers. No way you’re going to let him get the better of you. You’ve dealt with humans trying to coax you out from hiding by pretending to be nice before. Never once has it worked. Not once.

My mother taught me better than that.

Dick watches your ears flatten against your head, his smile growing slightly at your defiant glare. He can practically feel the resistance radiating off of you. He knows that he’ll have to use a different tactic to make you come out. He’ll make sure to remember to get rid of the bed’s legs so you can’t hide under it again.

“Come on, little spitfire, you can’t stay under there forever.” He tries, his tone slightly softer. “I bet it’s cramped and uncomfortable under there. You gotta be getting tired.”

Your ears prick up slightly at his words, but you quickly ignore them. He’s right of course, it is cramped and uncomfortable under here. But you’re not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. You keep your gaze locked on his hand. It may be a little claustrophobic, but the carpet laid under your little belly and small paws is softer than any material you’ve ever had the pleasure of feeling before. It’s more comfortable than the worn-out stained mattress you use as a bed. Everything here is, really. So you can deal with a little claustrophobia.

Dick can see the way your ears prick up at his words, and he can see the way your eyes drift around the carpet under the bed, taking in the soft material.

He can tell how much more comfortable this is compared to how you usually live. But he keeps that observation to himself.

He just continues quietly coaxing you, his voice never losing its sweetness.

“Yeah, I bet you’re cramped and uncomfortable, baby. It's awfully warm under there...” He coos, his hand continuing to pat the carpet lightly. “And you must be hungry by now, right?” He asks softly, his voice taking on a more sympathetic edge.

Your ears twitch a bit at his words, the mention of food making your stomach rumble quietly. He’s right, you are hungry. Famished, even. It’s been a few days since your last full meal.

You try to push down the ache of hunger in your stomach, your tail flicking irritably. You’re not going to give in just because he mentioned food. Even if a part of you is tempted, you’re not that desperate.

Dick’s lips twitch as he notices the way your ears flick, and he hears your stomach give an almost painful-sounding grumble. He’s silently satisfied that he’s at least getting some sort of reaction; a sure sign that he’s wearing you down.

“Aww…” he coos sympathetically, his voice sickenly sympathetic. “Are you hungry? Your tummy’s all grumbly.. I can hear it from here, kitten.” He leans forward, resting his chin on his folded hands. The position gives him a clearer view of you.

Your ears twitch again, but that’s the only reaction you give. On the inside, your stomach is practically clawing at itself, begging for some sort of meal. Your body is silently aching from how starved you are, the feeling only getting worse with each passing moment. Why the fuck did he have to say something? You hadn’t even noticed a few seconds ago.

But you keep your glare firmly fixed on his hand, refusing to acknowledge the pain. You’re determined to show him that you’re not going to give in that easily.

Dick hums thoughtfully, his gaze gliding over to the hidden camera in the corner of the room, his eyes locking on it knowingly. He casts the device a glance, his expression speaking volumes. He’s letting Tim know that he’s got this situation under control, but still mouths for him to send food.

He glances back down at the space under his bed, addressing you again, his tone still gentle and coaxing. “Come on out, baby…”

A soft growl rumbles in your chest, your mind still stubbornly set on refusing to budge. His soft tone and gentle way of speaking isn’t going to get the better of you.

You dig your claws into the carpet, a low, grumpy snarl working its way out of your throat. No. You think irritably, your tail twitching from behind, thumping against the wall in silent protest.

Dick hears the growl that rumbles out of your chest, and he can tell that you’re still holding out. You’re a stubborn little thing, he’ll give you that. It makes him almost proud. He’s proud to be your brother.

“Come on, kitty. Why don’t you come out from under there and let me see you?”

Your fur sticks up more at his words, your tail lashing even more furiously. He’s getting awfully demanding, which only serves to anger you more. You flatten your ears back against your head, letting out another low growl. Your glare locks intensely on his fingers, which are still lightly patting the carpet. Does this idiot honestly think I’d come out just because he’s saying please?

Dick tries to keep his calm demeanour, despite your visible irritation with him. He knows that you’re feeling claustrophobic under there, but he also knows that you’re too stubborn to come out just because he asks nicely. He silently notes the way your back rises and falls a little too quickly, a sign of how stressed you are in the confined environment.

He tries another approach. “Don’t make me come under there and get you…” he says lowly, his voice taking on a slightly darker edge.

Your ears twitch at the darker undertone in his voice, your body tensing further. You know that he means it, and the thought of him coming under there gets your claws digging deeper into the carpet.

You let out a guttural snarl, low and threatening. Try and get me out. Go ahead and try. I bet your big back can’t even fit under here.

Dick huffs a quiet laugh as he hears your warning snarl, but he’s not intimidated in the slightest. He knows that you’re just trying to sound intimidating, to scare him into leaving you alone. But he can see past the fierce demeanour you’re putting on, he can see the way your body is shaking with tension, the way you’re practically clawing the carpet to pieces.

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck for a moment before standing. His hand reaching down and hooking under the frame of the bed, lifting it up with little effort.

Your body jerks back in shock as he suddenly lifts the entire bed into the air, the sound of the bed’s feet scraping loudly across the floor.

Your tail goes wild at the unexpected situation you’re suddenly in, waving uncontrollably behind you. Your eyes are as big as saucers, the sight of the bed being lifted up completely taking you by surprise. Fuck– how is he so strong?

Your heart is practically slamming against your ribcage, your adrenaline spiking. You’re suddenly feeling very exposed, pressed against the rich wooden frame of the underside of the bed with nowhere to go. You can see him peering under the bed, that smug smile on his face making your blood boil.

“Come out before I’m forced to grab you, spitfire.” He repeats.

A guttural snarl rumbles out of your chest, your legs bunching up as if you’re preparing to pounce. Your heart is racing uncomfortably. His tone is playful, but you can see the subtle hint of darkness in his eyes.

Dick chuckles as he watches your body tense up, the look in your eyes almost murderous. But despite your fierce demeanour, he can see the way your muscles are trembling beneath your fur.

He knows that you’re just scared. You like to put on a strong front, but your shaking body gives you away. He doubts that you’re even aware of it.

His arm is starting to strain a little, the bed is heavier than it looks, but he keeps holding it up with one arm, leaning forward slightly to peer at you.

A low hiss escapes your throat as you slowly begin to edge out from under the bed, your body practically scraping against the ground. You keep yourself as low to the floor as possible, as if you’re still trying to be undetected.

Then, you suddenly dart across the room, scrambling as fast as your legs will allow to the other side, putting as much distance between you and the dude. Once you’ve reached the far side of the room, your body immediately collides with a wall, your tail whipping around as you press yourself against the surface.

Dick sighs as he watches you scramble away from him, practically diving to the other side of the room and immediately slamming yourself against the wall. He lowers the bed back to the ground, letting it thump loudly against the carpet.

His eyes watch you closely, taking in how you’re almost vibrating with tension. He can see the way your eyes are wide, how your back is hunched against the wall, and your little ears are folded back against your head.

You’re ready to go at any second.

Your tail is lashing wildly behind you, your entire being screaming at you to bolt for the door. Get out. Go. Run. Leave. Now. Get out while you still can.

Your little legs carry you as fast as they can, the sound of the door clicking open ringing in your ears. The sound was as loud as a gunshot to your ears. It’s the only noise you need to hear before you bolt. The thought of escaping is a driving force, urging you to run as fast as possible. Darting as fast as your paws will carry you towards the door.

But your escape gets instantly interrupted as you suddenly crash into a pair of long legs, covered in posh looking suit pants. A startled hiss escapes your throat as you stumble back, your head bumping against the man’s legs.

You skid to a halt, your paws screeching against the floor as you collide with them. Your head snaps up, a hiss escaping you as you pull away and stumble back, trying to gain some distance. The rich black fabric now adorns a few of your fur's stray hairs.

A soft chuckle escapes the man just moments after your little stunt, the sound catching your attention. You look up at the man, his face calm and collected as he simply stares down at you.

He speaks in a light tone, addressing you. “Careful there, little one” His eyes are still locked on your small frame. His gaze then shifts back to Dick, holding out a tray to the man.

Dick huffs in amusement as he sees you bolt straight into Alfred, your legs carrying you so quickly that you don’t realise his entrance until it’s too late. He almost laughs out loud as he watches you scurry back awkwardly, your eyes darting back and forth between the two men.

He takes the tray from Alfred with a grateful smile, placing it on the rich wooden desk nearby. “Thanks, Alfie.” He says, his gaze shifting back to you, watching you closely.

Alfred hums softly in response, his eyes still locked on you, his gaze studying your every movement. You feel uncomfortably scrutinised as he looks you over, taking in your every feature. Jesus, he’s staring at me like I’m a bloody zoo attraction.

You can’t help but notice the way his eyes are studying your every move, as if you’re something of extreme curiosity to him. His intense interest in you is making you shift uncomfortably.

He didn’t do that earlier, did he? You think to yourself, your mind struggling to recall earlier events. But for some reason, your memories are just a big jumbled blur.

You can faintly remember waking up on a soft, plush material. Your mind struggles to recall the events. All you can remember are vague, blurry images, like watching a video through a rain-drenched window. One of those images is an unfocused picture of the butler walking, holding you in his arms as he moves. It’s anything but clear. You wouldn’t have believed that it had even happened if it weren’t for the fact that you are in the ‘Master Dick’s room.

Which, now that you’re thinking about it, sounds oddly familiar to you.

However, they don’t spare you much time to ponder over it as you’re forcefully pulled out of your thoughts when the door clicks closed behind the old butler as he leaves once more, your ears twitching in response to the sound.

Dick watches you silently as he places the tray in front of you, the aroma of cooked meat wafting towards your nostrils almost instantly, making your stomach rumble loudly, as if on a cue.

You silently berate your stomach in your mind, before glaring up at Grayson. He probably poisoned it, or something.

Your stomach lets out another loud gurgle as the meat fragrance hits your sensitive nose, the sound making your cheeks burn with embarrassment. You quickly try to silence the sound of your rumbling belly by internally scolding and cussing out the organ, but your silent tantrum is cut short as you glare up at Dick, eyeing him suspiciously.

Your mind instantly accuses him of tainting the food. He probably poisoned it. Or something. You think bitterly.

Dick notices the way you’re eyeing the food suspiciously, a small chuckle escapes him in response. He can tell that you’re silently accusing him of doing something to the food, and he can’t help but find the way your face scrunches up in a tiny little frown as you glare.

He leans down to sit opposite you, keeping a safe distance before he speaks, his tone gentle. He tells you. “The food is fine. It’s made so you can eat it in both forms.”

Your ears immediately perk up in surprise, your tail freezing in its agitated movements. You can feel the adrenaline rushing through your veins, making your body tense up. He knows I'm a hybrid.

A thousand thoughts run through your mind as the realisation strikes you. He knows. How the hell does he know?

Your heart begins to race even more as your mind instantly connects the dots, linking the events together like a piece of an unsolved puzzle. You recall the other man, the man who knew where you lived. You had no idea who he was, but he clearly knew who you were.

And now, Dick somehow knows about your unique condition.

Your mind quickly makes the connection. Are they working together? Is he with Jason?

You can already feel the adrenaline pumping through your system, your heartbeat sounding like a drumbeat in your chest. Your body is tense, ready to go at a moment’s notice.

Dick doesn’t seem to notice your inner thoughts, or if he does, he’s not showing it. He sits calmly across from you, that annoying little grin still plastered on his face, his eyes studying your every move.

Your mind is racing, your body feeling like it’s ready to explode. You can’t help yourself, the thought of staying small and powerless while being in the presence of such a man is making you heave. Bile shooting up your throat at the mere thought.

You quickly shift forms, transforming into a human form. You’re still tense, on edge, but somehow you feel less vulnerable this way.

A large red and black hoodie hangs off of your form, the oversized material reaching the middle of your thighs. A pair of shorts hugging your legs, clinging to the skin tightly. You’re painfully aware that this is not what you had on before you were knocked out. And somehow, by the tight restricting feeling that adorns your neck, the collar has adapted itself onto your human form too. The sight confuses you and leaves you with a thousand questions, but you don’t dare ask any of them.

Your mind is too occupied with the dull ache that had been building into a painful burn in the muscles of your body, making it harder to concentrate. The intense pain has gone from an irritating dull ache to a stinging, burning feeling. It feels as if someone has dug into your skin, left something deep inside you, and stitched it into your flesh.

Your muscles tense, the overwhelming feeling making you nauseous. The pain is far worse in your human form.

Dick’s eyebrows furrow as he notices the way you suddenly curl in on yourself, your body flinching as if in pain. His heart clenches at the sight. He immediately rushes over to your side, stopping and kneeling down right next to you. His deep ocean eyes filled with concern.

He watches you carefully, his gaze studying every muscle twitch, every subtle movement. Something's wrong. His heart clenches at the sight of you in pain, a protective instinct stirring within him that he can't ignore.

His body is itching to reach out to you, to comfort you, but he holds himself back. Don’t make it worse. He thinks to himself.

He speaks your name gently, his voice filled with worry. “Are you alright?” he asks, his eyes locked onto you. “What hurts? Tell me, kitten.”

You’re curled up into a tight ball, your body tense and in pain. Dick’s voice is gentle, filled with concern as he asks you what’s wrong. But the sound of him calling you kitten makes you wince in annoyance, a slight hiss escaping you before you can stop it.

You’re about to answer him when a wave of intense pain shoots through your spine, making your body jerk involuntarily.

The sound that escapes your throat is something between a hiss and a whimper. Which does nothing to calm Dick, his face growing more concerned as he watches you writhe in pain, his mind practically screaming at him to do something to help you.

Dick is about to reach out and touch you, to comfort you, but before his hand can touch your shoulder, the bedroom door slams open violently. Damian’s face, uncharacteristically filled with fear, is suddenly in the room. Tim is next, rushing past the boy and to your side with a syringe in his hand. You don’t have any time nor energy to evade him. The sedative administered quickly.

Your body is tense from the pain, but you feel yourself start to relax as the sedative takes effect. Your mind is slowing down, the world around you becoming hazy. Your breathing is growing slower, your body slowly going limp as the drug starts to take over your senses. Falling backwards into Dick's readied arms.

Dick grits his teeth, looking up at his younger brothers with a deep frown. “Someone explain." he orders firmly, cradling you protectively in his arms as you begin to fall unconscious.

“We need to get them to Bruce.” Damian responds instead of answering. Your mind is barely registering the words before everything starts to go black and it feels like you’re drowning. The sedative completely takes effect as you slowly fall unconscious.

You feel yourself slowly awakening, your long kitten limbs stretching out as your paws curl in on themselves. A soft yawn escapes your lips as you blissfully blink your sleepy eyes open, you can’t remember transforming, but you don’t dwell much on it, feeling somewhat satisfied and at ease. A soft, satisfied purr escaping your lips.

You’re almost about to lull yourself back to sleep when the surface you’re laying on shifts under you.

Your ears twitch in response, your eyes widening with alertness as the soft, fuzzy feeling of comfort is instantly replaced with confusion. You quickly realise that the surface you’re sleeping on is actually moving under you, and that the slight thump thump sound underneath you is not your own pulse.

Your mind quickly processes the new information, realising that you’re not laying on a soft surface, but on someone’s lap. Your body immediately reacts, your ears flicking back as you try to scramble out of whoever’s lap you’re on, startled.

A deep, rumbling chuckle resonates from behind you, a large hand patting your fur gently. Your tail flicks in response to the touch, your mind registering how easy it is to move, how the pain is gone. You take this opportunity to leap up onto the large office desk, your eyes darting around to take in your surroundings – completely ignoring the large figure behind you.

Your tail instantly goes rigid as your eyes fall on the framed photo on the desk, your eyes instantly widening as you recognize the people in the picture. Your heart sinks deep in your chest. It’s a family. A large and happy-looking family. One that you are all too familiar with.

Your mind connects the dots instantly, the realisation hitting you like a truck. The familiar manor. The butler, Alfred. Master Dick. Those people. You're suddenly afraid of looking at the man behind you. They were the Waynes.

Your heart starts pumping furiously in your chest, your breathing becoming rapid and shallow. You can feel a wave of nausea overcome you, your stomach clenching and your head spinning from the force of it all. How exactly have you landed yourself right in the laps of the Wayne's, of all people?

You’re afraid to look back, afraid of who is sitting right behind you. The urge to flee and run as far as possible from this place is almost overwhelming.

The man’s voice cuts through your spiralling thoughts, making you realise that you’re far too deep in your own head. A shiver runs down your spine at the nickname. Sunshine. You haven’t heard that nickname in years.

"You gave us quite the fright there yesterday, sunshine."

You finally gain the courage to look back, your body tense and your breathing heavy. You meet the man’s eyes, and the sight of the soft, concerned gaze makes your breath hitch in your throat. His voice was both soft and firm, almost... paternal.

His deep ocean eyes were looking at you with a mixture of concern and worry. There was no malice, no ill-intent. Only concern that made your heart clench in your chest. His expression is soft, like a parent seeing their child in pain.

He's sitting in a large armchair, his tall frame slouched slightly as he looks at you intently. His suit looks expensive, but slightly rumpled, as if he hadn't changed in quite a while. His tired eyes never leave you.

Your mind instantly goes into a panic, your multi-coloured chest heaving as if you just got the wind knocked out of you. Fur going up and down at each breath.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. Your thoughts are screaming at you, practically begging you to run. To hide. Everything in you is telling you to flee. You can’t go through this again. You were not going through this- not with Bruce fucking Wayne. One deadbeat mother was enough.

Your body is tense, your tail flicking quickly from one side to the other. You’re terrified, a mixture of fear and anger coursing through your body like a wildfire. You’re on the verge of bolting, of escaping as fast as your little legs can carry you. Your heart is pumping, your muscles tense and ready to jump.

But you can’t. You’re frozen in place, your body refusing to cooperate. Stuck there, looking directly into the eyes of one of the most powerful men in Gotham.

Your body goes stiff before you can stop it, your muscles flexing. You can barely even register that you’re being scooped up until you’re already in his arms, his large hands gently holding you close as he begins to scratch behind your soft little ears. His voice is low as he leans down and whispers in a soothing almost comforting tone, his warm breath on your fur making you shiver involuntarily. You almost don’t register his words, the soothing, deep baritone trying to reassure and coax you to relax. To calm down. He’s telling you that it was alright that you had nothing to fear. That you were safe.

“Breathe.”

You’re tense in his arms, your body fighting between the urge to stay and run away, to escape from this situation. But the soothing voice and the gentle fingers scratching behind your ears are starting to have a calming effect on you, despite yourself. His deep voice somehow helps soothe your inner cat, the instincts in your half-wild brain slowly calming down.

He tells you to breathe, to calm down, and you realise that you are holding your breath. You take in a gasping lungful of air, feeling your body sag slightly.

His large hands are holding you close, keeping you still and comfortable in his arms. He continues to run the back of his thumb soothingly behind your ears, the comforting gesture making your eyes flutter with pleasure as a soft, involuntary purr-like sound escapes you. He chuckles quietly at the sound, looking down at you with those deep ocean eyes of his.

“Good,” he says aloud, his voice deep and soothing. “Just like that… Easy, sunshine.”

Your body relaxes against his larger form as he continues to talk softly, his warm breath hitting you with every word he speaks. You find yourself leaning into his touch without meaning to, his strong hands and familiar scent comforting your inner feline instincts. The deep and soothing rumbling of his voice is a strange comfort to your nervous system, bringing an unfamiliar sense of safety.

“That's it... you're doing so well…”

His hands never leave your body, his touch still soothing and tender, like a parent comforting a scared child. His voice is gentle and calm, like a soft, warm blanket, wrapping itself around you and muffling your senses.

You find your body relaxing further, your muscles no longer as tense as before as you lean heavily into him, almost melting. His scent is warm and musky, bringing a strange sense of familiarity and comfort along with it. He chuckles softly as you let your eyes flutter closed, feeling yourself giving in to the comforting presence. You can barely think, just basking.

His large hands never stop their comforting motions, continuing to gently rake through your soft, fluffy fur. The sound of his low voice and the feeling of his warm breath on your fur are both soothing you further, making your inner cat feel safe and protected.

He continues to murmur soft words to you, saying that you're good and that you're doing so well. You feel yourself nodding in a haze, the praise making your half-wild brain feel satisfied and at ease for the first time in a very long time. Your entire body soaking in all the praise and affection. He continues to talk softly to you, his deep voice almost lulling you to complete and utter contentment. You almost don't register his words, still feeling all fuzzy from the sedatives.

He lets his voice die out for a moment, just watching intently as you curl into him. Then he speaks up once more, his low voice filled with genuine remorse and sadness this time as he speaks to you, his large hands subconsciously tracing carefully over the newly bandaged areas on your small form. He murmurs softly about metal allergies and implantation tests.

“We hadn't run nearly enough tests...” he says, his voice full of regret. “We would never have been so careless if we had known you were going to react badly to the metal we used… I apologise.” His large figure is still holding you tight against his chest, his arm wrapped securely around you. His voice is soft and apologetic. As if it was his fault that you were allergic to the metal. As if it was normal for someone to put things like trackers inside of you.

Your entire body tenses as you suddenly remember exactly where you are and who you're with. It's as if a switch flips inside of you. You can feel anger and fear rising up in your chest as your ears automatically lay back flat against your head. You suddenly find yourself not feeling safe in his arms anymore, instead feeling panicked. What the fuck did he just say? Trackers?

This time you don't even think, your natural instincts kicking in full force. Your pupils shrink into deep slits as your teeth bare in a feral expression, the fear and anger from before making your claws extend and dig into the billionaire's skin.

He barely has time to react before you're lunging at his wrist, your sharp claws digging deep into his expensive suit, creating deep red gashes on his skin. You're not backing down, not this time.

He lets out a surprised hiss of pain, his grip around you relaxing just enough for you to slip out of his arms. You land on the edge of the desk, your body already crouched low, ready to flee. You can see the Billionaire's shocked expression, his eyes darting quickly between you and the deep red gashes on his skin. He quickly applies pressure on the wound, the gashes deep. He doesn't look angry however, more concerned than anything.

He looks up at you, his expression shifting from shock to concern, making your anger flare up again. He's looking at you like a concerned parent looks at their child when it has hurt itself. He’s the hurt one. It's making you livid.

He speaks your name softly, his voice filled with worry and concern. His expression and tone remaining gentle. Loving. “Are you alright?”

The question makes you twitch in anger, your eyes flashing in irritation. You just mauled the man's arm and he has the nerve to ask you if you're alright?

He slowly reaches out towards you, his expression unchanged, still concerned. "Come back here." he says, his voice gentle and coaxing. "You shouldn't be moving around too fast yet."

You hiss at him, your anger flaring at his patronising tone. The idea of getting closer to the man is making your heart pound wildly in your chest. His expression only softens in response, like he's used to temperamental creatures. "It's alright," he soothes, his voice staying level and even. "Just come back here and let me check if you’re hurt."

"I'm not going to hurt you," he assures gently. "I just want to make sure you're okay. The sedatives should be just about out of your system now, but you really shouldn't be walking around yet." He's still slowly reaching out to you, his voice soft and soothing. "You need to rest, sunshine. You just got a big shock. Come back here. It's alright." His voice is still full of that same paternal concern. Like he's worried for his own child. Like you're some frightened kitten that needs to be comforted. It makes you want to claw out his eyeballs.

You tense, your entire body shaking from the adrenaline and fury coursing through you. The nickname Sunshine from earlier only serves to fuel your anger further. Bringing back memories from your early childhood that you've tried so hard to squash down. You can feel anger and fear mixing into a potent cocktail inside your body, making you feel like you're about to burst from the conflicting emotions. You hiss aloud at him in reply, your body tensing further as he still reaches out.

He pauses as you bare your teeth at him, your tail lashing around wildly. He sighs, his expression turning to one of resignation. "You really are a feral little thing, aren't you?" he comments aloud, his tone holding unfiltered amusement. But his eyes are still concerned, watching your every move intently.

He slowly lowers his arm, seeing that you're not reacting well to his attempts at coaxing you back. He leans back in his chair, seemingly giving you a safe distance to calm down. His gaze stays fixed on you, his large eyes watching your every move, like a hawk watching its prey. He's still watching you with concern, like he's worried you're going to do something reckless.

"Just take a breath," he instructs, his voice still gentle. "You're going to hurt yourself if you keep going like this." He's still watching you intently, like he's waiting for you to snap and attack him again.

The urge to transform back into your human form is strong, your emotions are a tumultuous storm inside of you. Wanting to cuss the old man out. But you resist the urge out of pure stubbornness, the part of you that still wants to claw him to shreds still in full control of your thoughts. But you want to scream at him, to say something cutting and hateful.

You have so many things you want to say to the Billionaire, so many insults and scathing remarks that are just on the tip of your tongue. But the feral part of you is not letting you shift to speak. You're stuck between wanting to transform into your human form and shout at him, and staying like this to claw his eyes out.

The elder man tries once more to reach out and grab you, seemingly sensing that you're not quite done with your outbursts yet. But you react quickly, your body moving before your mind can stop you, your paw coming up and swiping at his arm. Claws out and extended. However, this time he's prepared for your reaction. He's quick to grab your extended limb, gripping you firmly by the arm. Before you know it, you're hoisted up into the air, dangling by your arm as you hold back a whine.

He doesn't let go, his grip firm and unyielding. You can feel your arm stinging unpleasantly from where his fingers are wrapped around it, your feet waving in the air as you dangle helplessly. Your inner self hates being so exposed, your body hanging there like a limp doll. You despise being held like this, having no control of the situation. Your ears fold back and pin down against your head.

His pale blue irises focus intently on your outstretched limb, eyes narrowing as he takes note of your claws, which are bared and extended. Noticing how they're not as dull as they would be if they had been cut regularly. You can see his brow furrowing in deep concentration, taking in the length and sharpness. You can also see his jaw clench when he notices just how untouched they look, like they've never been cut before. He lets out a low hum as he studies you, looking down into your eyes, his gaze hardening as he clearly puts two and two together. Thinking to himself for a moment, not phased by your violent squirming.

His mind races at a million miles a minute as he looks down at you, studying your body and your reaction. He can already picture all of the damage you'll do to his furniture, his expression growing more and more stern as his thoughts linger on the possibilities. But as the thoughts of the damage you'll do to the property fades away, another one rises, even darker. One that has him clenching his jaw.

His expression turns grim as he mentally pictures the damage you could do to your other siblings, his eyes flashing with anger. He can see the scenarios clearly, the thought of you harming them making deep, cold anger spread through his veins. His jaw clenches tightly at the thought, his hand gripping your limb a little bit tighter. But there's something else in his eyes as he pictures the damage you could do. Something possessive that shows on his face as he imagines you hurting your brothers.

His eyes remain fixed on your claws as his mind works, contemplating the idea of having one of the boys trim them as soon as possible. But a part of him is also considering a way to prevent them from being used as weapons. A way to keep them from being able to do damage in the future. His jaw tenses again as he mulls over the idea of some sort of restraints, his gaze still on your claws as he plans the next move.

As his mind ponders the options, he thinks back to the scene that just happened, the violent outburst and the way you swiped your claws at him, clearly upset. He's trying to think of a way to keep you from reacting so wildly, and the thought of restraints seems like a good solution. But there's a part of him that doesn't like the idea, not wanting to use something so final on you. Especially when you're still so young.

Yet his mind is also thinking of the danger that your claws represent, especially to yourself and your siblings. He thinks of all of the dangerous things that you could do, the things that you could accidentally hurt. The damage you could cause, the damage you could do to yourself and those around you. His mind is wrestling over the best choice to make, between his protectiveness and his need to keep you safe.

You writhe violently in his hold, using every ounce of strength you can muster to try and tug yourself free. With as much force as you can manage, you tug yourself up to deliver a solid bite to the Wayne's first knuckle, trying to dislodge his grip on your small paw.

Your teeth dig deep into his skin, your sharp canines breaking through the skin like it's butter, drawing a small trickle of blood. With all of your strength you yank against his hold. He lets out a guttural growl of pain as your teeth dig into his flesh, trying to yank his hand away on reflex. He wasn't expecting the sudden attack, the pain of your little fangs burying into his skin making his eyes widened. His fingers immediately loosen around your limb, as he pulls away his injured hand to inspect the bite.

He holds his hand to his face, inspecting the fresh bite mark you left behind, a trickle of blood sliding down his pale finger. You're able to tug your limb out of his loosened grip, landing on the desk with a soft thump. He looks at you with surprised eyes, taking in your feral appearance, your teeth bared and eyes flashing, your pupils small and slitted.

The knock on the office door interrupts the Billionaire's thoughts, his head snapping up to see Damian walking in. "Father, the enclosure has been set u-." the young boy says, but his words die out as his eyes land on you, his expression going soft at first, but then hardening at the sight of the injuries on his fathers hands.

There's a beat of silence, Damian's gaze flitting between you and his father, taking in the scene of you and the older man. The clear evidence of your outburst still present in his bloodied hands.

"What happened?" he finally says, his voice filled with anger and worry. His eyes are hard as he looks at his father's injuries, his own expression hardening further. But his next glance at you is softer, more concerned, seeing your small and feral form hunched up on the desk.

He slowly walks into the office, moving into the room and approaching the desk, his expression still a mix of anger and worry. But his eyes soften as they land on you again, seeing your small fluffy form curled up on top of the desk. His gaze flicks back to his father, waiting for an explanation.

"It's nothing, son," the eldest Wayne responds, his voice calm and reassuring, but his expression is tense as he meets his son's gaze, attempting to downplay the injuries on his hand. But Damian's eyes flick back to the injuries once more, clearly not accepting his father's explanation.

"It doesn't look like nothing," Damian retorts, his voice slightly heated as he glares at the injuries on his father's hand. "You're bleeding." he says, raising an eyebrow in scepticism. His eyes narrow at the obvious lie.

"It's just a scratch," the older man responds, his tone still calm but with an undercurrent of tension beneath it. He can feel the anger rolling off of his son in waves, seeing the glare directed at the small bite mark on his hand.

You don't bother waiting around for the confrontation, swiftly leaping off of the desk and landing near Damian's feet, your small form making a light thump against the ground. You can feel the tension in the air, wanting to get away from the arguing voices and this entire situation

Damian's attention is immediately drawn down to you as you land at his feet, his expression shifting from anger to surprise at your sudden appearance. He looks down at you, his expression still hard but softening at the sight of you, his eyes taking in your small and fierce form.

He bends down to your level, a hint of worry showing in his eyes at your unexpected action. He seems torn between staying focused on his father and his apparent injuries or looking further at you and your current state. His gaze is flickering between you and his father, not sure where to put his focus.

You'd heard tidbits about the youngest Wayne boy before, the press often calling him the "youngest Wayne" whenever he made public appearances, and you remember hearing that he was around fifteen or sixteen. He has a well defined face, but there's still a youthful innocence about him, his features still holding a boyish charm. Your gaze doesn't linger on him for too long, your legs quickly darting towards the exit, your mind focused on escaping.

As you make a beeline for the exit, you can feel his eyes following you as you move. There's a hint of surprise in his expression at your sudden escape attempt, his gaze still flickering between you and his father. He stands there for a moment, torn between stopping you and letting you attempt. Then, the reminder that you're still recovering from the surgery rings through his mind.

With minimal effort, he quickly pulls something from his pocket, sending it flying directly at the door. The object hits the door's hard wood with a loud thump, causing the door to slam shut, the door's hinges groaning loudly in protest. Your heart skips a beat as you're suddenly blocked from the exit, trapped in the room with the two of them. What the hell was that??

kind of abrupt ending, but I was rushing to get this out. So... See you in part three?

All reblogs, comments, and asks are appreciated and encouraged!

If I begged would anyone create me some fanart? Please…

A special thanks to @zenychwan , @143637-hrrm , @goddessofalltrash ,@amisupposedtomakesenserightnow ,@redeemingmygloryintopurgatory , @yune1337 , @busenxr , @probabydeadbynow , @imaginarydreams , @cyberwears and @tagzi with the friggin prettiest kitties n puppies ever who definitely helped me write this chapter by sending in pics of their pets!💚

Guess who can no longer get the one thing that I’ve been saving up for for my birthday because my pay got cut 🤗 I’m officially fucking broke now. I’m actually really upset. Probably gonna be forced to not do anything for the big 20th now.

On a happier note, the chapter is finally out! I thank all the people who've waited so patiently for this to come out, you're hella appreciated💚

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marksbear2 · 2 months ago

Note

OK! Nightwing ftm getting banged by male reader who’s a low level henchmen working for Joker/Harley? The henchmen in Arkham Knight low key hot ngl-

Reader’s hands are handcuffed and Nightwing is riding his dick inside his pussy.

Both are clothed (Nightwing just has his costume ripped around the pussy & asshole part and reader has the joker face makeup thing the other henchmen has in Arkham Knight, boots, jacket, and jeans on, just that his dick is out through the zipper hole) (Also fingerless gloves but whatever I’m thinking too much on the clothes-)

When reader says that he’s gonna cum, Nightwing stops riding and asks where Joker is, with the dick still inside him. Reader doesn’t wanna reveal but the cockwarming is too good that he starts thrusting his upwards without thinking. Nightwing’s caught of guard and leans forward, both faces close to each other. Eventually he starts riding for a bit, but reader, with gritted teeth, just cums a gallon inside Nightwing’s pussy.

Without thinking, they proceed to make out for a bit. They both comes to their senses and just stare at each other awkwardly (dick still in) and reader just straight up tells him where Joker is heading. Nightwing smiles & thanks him, slowly gets up (with some cum pouring out), uncuffs him and leaves Batman style, with reader lying on the ground processing what just happened before tughing his dick in and leaving the alleyway

FTM DICK ‘NIGHTWING’ GRAYSON X MALE READER

⚠️No pronouns for the reader, could be read as GN, riding, Dick has a pussy btw, cum leaking, creampie, handcuffs, public sex, alleyway Sex, sub top Duck and etc. ⚠️

“Now, that I finally caught you. You’re gonna tell me where’s the joker heading.”

You let out a sharp gasped and held back a groan as your hands were behind your back handcuffed to the pole of the alleyway. You honestly didn’t even know how you ended up in this situation. Just maybe forty minutes you were on the run with other henchmen, and now your cuffed to a pole in the alleyway and out of all people in the Gotham to catch you it was Nightwing.

He was straddling over your cock holding the middle of it carefully as he lower his pussy down on you.

You could see the abs and his muscles through his suit especially what you really had your eyes focused on was his pussy. His other hand was behind him holding your thigh, steadying himself as he lowered himself down onto your cock.

He let out a sharp gasp with a bit of a chuckle as he finally got the tip all the tip inside. He let go of your cock and used his now free hand to touch himself, he rubbed his clit as he moved down on your cock.

Once he was halfway way he went back up, he continued it more just letting himself adjust before going down on your cock all the letting out a moan as he gripped your thigh. He bit his lip as he looked down at you. Nightwing pulled both of his hands away letting them rest and hold onto your shoulders as he rose his hips up before gently letting it down letting your cock slide even more deep inside of him.

Soon enough he began to bounce on your cock letting your sick reach further inside of you. The hero’s hand traveled from your shoulders to your neck massaging it softly as he rode your cock.

His bare ass slapping against your pants. You breathed heavily under your breath as you feel himself riding your cock occasionally getting off your cock just to let the your cock throb before going back to riding you. His hands traveled around your shoulders and back occasionally tugging the back of your hair. He felt so good, he’s cunt was tight around you but also just loose enough so he could fuck himself down on your cock.

He also had a smirk on his face. He knew he had you under his mercy. His right hand traveled to your face cupping your cheek and forcing you to look up at him. Then suddenly you had a feeling in your stomach tighten. Was it the way he looked at you? The way he looked at you like you were pathetic. Or was it just because his pussy felt so amazing around your cock.

“I’m gonna cum!” You blurted out in a groan, you tilted your head back a bit as you felt your legs tensed as your chest rose up and down quicker.

Abruptly stopping he rested down on you, still keeping your full cock inside of him. “Where’s the joker huh?” Nightwing said looking down at you, your head was still resting against the wall as your eyes were glued shut. You couldn’t even focus on his question. Just continuing breathing heavy you subconsciously began to slowly raise your hips into his cunt, starting off with slow rhythms until you couldn’t hold yourself back and began to thrust inside of him rapidly.

Nightwing was startled by the sudden movement and leaned toward into you to steady himself. Nightwing rose his hips and moved it back down meeting your thrust in the middle.

You two were face to face. He smirked hearing our gaps and grunts under your breath. But as well his mouth was opening letting out moans, both of you guys open mouths were inches away and once it seemed like you two were gonna kiss you cum.

You close your mouth gritting your teeth together as you let out a muffled groan and moan. Your wrist tongued against the cuffs as Nightwing surprisingly silent as he was bitting his lip letting you cum fill him. You two faces were still inches apart just nudging against one another as you poured your seed inside of him. Still cumming you and Nightwing makes eye contact and for a quick second he glanced at your lips before capturing your mouth in a kiss.

The kiss began to get even more heated both of you two’s tongues exploring one another’s mouth and dancing against one another. Both of you two moaned and whimpered in each other’s mouth.

Breaking the kiss, Nightwing felt the cum inside of him leak down onto your own cock. You two are staring at each other silently before you broke it.

“He’s heading over to old Gotham to continue his new big project.” You said in a mumble, once you told him he softly pat your check and smirked.

“Thanks.” He said before reaching behind you, undoing your handcuffs before pulling himself up and off your cock and taking a few steps back. He admired himself for a moment. Your cum was leaking out of him since it most of it is overflowing inside of his pussy. He gave you one more glance over his shoulder and walked off into the dark streets of Gotham.

You sat there, cock still semi hard but also milky with your own cum on it.

After finally gathering your thoughts you stood up and tucked your cock back inside your pants. Your mind was racing in a good way.

You slowly walked out the alley still amazed and in shock. But the more you thought about what just happened the more the tent in your pants grew.

THE END

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gothamhappiness · 3 months ago

Text

Don't hurt Red Hood, Batman! (Jason Todd x f!reader)

Warnings: no proof reading, language, Batman is mean, mentions of fighting and wounds, reader got some nerves and aimed at Batman

You were living on Red Hood territory.

Actually you stayed in Gotham thanks to him. You felt safe thanks to him. Yes, he was the new crime lord in town, but women and children were off limit. Innocent people were off limit.

You knew Red Hood killed people but he killed bad people and kept innocent civilians safe. You weren’t for the killing, of course not. And yet you were grateful for what Red Hood was doing, for people like you. You weren't afraid to walk at night anymore.

The first time you saw Red Hood, he was arguing with Batman and Nightwing. Actually, Batman was fighting with Red Hood and Nightwing was in the middle, trying to stop them.

You didn’t really think before grabbing the small gun you had in your bag. And you were clearly out of your mind when you aimed at Batman.

"Leave him alone!" You screamed

The three men froze. You didn’t really think you would hurt anyone, you just felt better having a gun in your hand to face the dark knight

"Go away" Batman sternly told you and Nightwing moved his head to silently ask you to do the same

"No, you, go away. Leave Red Hood alone."

"What?" The three men muttered

"He is doing good for people like us. You don't give a shit about us, Batman. Go play with Harvey Dent or Oswald Cobleppot, and let Red Hood saves us from Black Mask and his goons." You stubornly replied

"Look..." Nightwing started but you cut him off

"You are both on his territory anyway" you said

"His territory? Wait you are in agreement with this?" Nightwing asked and you nodded instantly

"I live here, Red Hood keeps us safe without asking anything in return. He even feeds children of the street. What did you two do about it? Aren't you supposed to be in Blüdhaven, Nightwing, anyway?" You clearly knew no fear that night

Red Hood had sat down during the exchange, he was hurt but more importantly he was stunned that someone was actually taking his defense.

"He is a criminal" Batman finally said

"So are you" you replied

"He is trying to do justice by taking money from the goons and the prostitution. He is a crime lord, like all the others"

"What don't you understand in "He keeps us safe!". The money is always dirty in Gotham anyways." You justified Red Hood again

The silence following was defeaning. Batman made one step towards Red Hood, and you shot past his ear.

"It's a warning Batman, my mother taught me how to use guns against violent men" you threatened him

"Alright, let's go, Nightwing," Batman groaned. He didn't want to fight with a civilian

You watched them go before looking down at Red Hood, you felt the adrenaline slowly leaving your body and you felt a little bit sick. But aslo very proud of yourself. You smiled at the man who was still sat down on the ground.

"Are you alright? Do you need help with your wounds?" You asked

"What's your name, brave girl?" He asked in return

"Y/N" you said with a slight blush

"Y/N, thank you for making me happy for the first time in a very long time" Red Hood softly whispered to you

"Anything for you, Red" you smiled even more

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x s/o #jason todd imagine #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #red hood x s/o #red hood imagine #batman #bruce wayne #nightwing #dick grayson #batfamily #batfam x reader

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zweetpea · 11 days ago

Text

Mrs. “Wayne”

Content warning: Swears, Arranged Marriage, talks of having an heir, Mentions of Bruce’s Affairs, Nightwing x Starfire mentioned

Based on this since no one else has done it (or at least not that I've seen...)

BTW guys if you want to write something based off something I write I ask that you tag me in it. (Unless it's like a broad thing... like if you see my post about Bruce bringing home a girl that he met and married that day then write a fic around that idea I ask that you credit me, but if you see my Yandere Bruce x reader and decide to make a "baby fever! Bruce x reader" that's more general so I don't think it would be fair of me to ask for credit.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Honey I know you're angry with us but it's what’s best for you. He's the richest man in the country." Your mother fixed your veil.

"He's a whore. And what's worse is that he doesn't even consider how it even affects his kids. I just picks up orphans off the street like they're lucky pennies or a 20 dollar bill for him." You grimaced.

"You know what a..." She sounded appalled. "20 dollar bill is? Oh how I've failed you as a mother."

"Don't be so dramatic." You rolled your eyes.

"Are you ready to go?" Your father entered into the private room. "You look beautiful Princess."

"Thanks dad."

"Come on." He grabbed your hand as you grabbed the bouquet. You wrapped your arm around his as you two walked down the isle to your soon-to-be husband, Bruce "Brucie" Wayne.

You looked down through the entire ceremony, up until the Vows. Brucie's were short and sweet. "We may not know each other too well but I swear to be loyal, thoughtful, and truthful through our entire marriage." At which you heard a faint snort from the front row. You slightly glance over and see a young man a few years younger than you trying to hold laughter, his white streak bobbing as he shook with laughter. Brucie's glaring at him.

You turned back to your inevitable spouse and said your vows. "I promise to stand by your side in all your endeavors, even if that means adopting 10 more orphans you pick up from the streets like they were stray cats." You said in a monotonous voice.

You two finish off the ceremony with the standard ceremonial officiator speach.

"Do you Bruce Wayne take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

"I do."

He turns to me. "Do you-"

"I do." You cut him off. Surprising everyone with how forward that was. Some whispers were heard amongst the crowd, undoubtedly calling you a gold digger for being so eager to get this ceremony over with.

"Well at least she's eager! That's almost gotta ensure this marriage lasts right?" The officiator jokes to ease the tension. "If anyone objects to this marriage please speak now or forever hold your peace." The same young man who was laughing held up his hand but it was pushed down by a man about your age sitting next to him. "Then you may now kiss the bride."

You and your new husband shared a chaste kiss before you ran down the isle and out to the limo. And after a short drive you made it to the spot where you were scheduled to take your wedding photos and have the reception.

The reception was void of life, stuffy, like all those galas your parents forced you to attend. Hopefully this didn't end up like one of the incidents of Brucie flirting with milfs, sticking his tongue down a young squeezes throat, or twerking on ice sculptures.

Eventually Brucie takes you over to the loudest table in the place. "Wifey, these are my kids and co. Dick my oldest, the trouble maker who laughed during the ceremony is Jason, my oldest daughter Cass, the middles Stephanie and Tim, and Damian my youngest. Then there's Barbara Commissioner Gordons daughter, and our newest member of our family Duke."

"I'm the only blood child." Damian points out.

"Let's hope debauchery isn't hereditary."

Jason bursts out laughing at that. "I like her already."

"Really? Cause I had to hold your hand like a toddler during the ceremony to keep you from throwing a tantrum like a toddler." Dick points out.

"Can you blame me Dickie. She's your age. If anyone should be having a hissy fit it's you. Well you and maybe Babs."

"But we're not. So can't you be mature about this."

"I think Todd's lack of manners have become more acceptable considering what she said. Now it stands out less. Congrats Todd, you're now the family's second biggest embarrassment." Damian rolled his eyes.

"Haha" You laughed sarcastically. "What are you stray cats fighting over anyway that has you so rowdy? Someone throw out a can on anchovies?"

"No we're just excited to have a new Mom." Dick smiled at you.

"Oh looks like my new Father-in-law is calling me over for some business talk. I'll be back, Wifey. You just stay here and mingle." Your husband walks away and you turn back to the Brucie bunch.

"I know you guys probably don't like me or find it weird that I'm so close to your guys ages. Do me a favor and just put up with me for say five to ten years." They looked at you confused so you elaborate. "Brucie and I signed a prenup that if I asked for a divorce I'd get nothing. But give it a few years and he'll find a new fling. They'll get caught and he'll ask for a divorce to save his image. Don't worry I'll only ask for at most a million. Standard sum for a celebrity of his caliber."

Damian glares at you. "You skank."

"I'm being realistic. As a woman in high society you get to be a man's pretty young thing till you're 40. By then you've either started your own multi-million dollar business or you're the divorced crone who can't do any better. Most relationships of this caliber are shams held together by pool boys and secretaries. Or the few lucky ones that got married for love instead of PR."

"Bruce isn't like that." Tim defends.

"Oh please. I've seen him go to a date with a woman and leave with two completely different women than the woman he arrived with." You rolled your eyes

"Maybe when he was younger, but he's changed." Duke stood up to confront you.

"It's nothing personal kids, it's just business. I don't care if that's how he chooses to live his life. I won't be around much to see it anyway, I'm going to be rather busy." You shrugged, seemingly above it all.

"Busy with what?" Cass glared.

"Trading stocks and such, preparing for the inevitable divorce. Maybe I'll go sponsor some artists or a theatre production if I'm bored. I don't know, but what I can tell you is that it's coming." You turn around to walk away and see Brucie already flirting with another woman. "And from the looks of it, it's coming sooner than we could've ever guessed." You smirked, feeling vindicated. The rest of them looked on in horror.

After the reception you two left on a rather uneventful honeymoon. The private villa was garish and gaudy. It felt like a petty excuse to flaunt his wealth especially because you two spent the entire trip sleeping in different rooms. And on top of all that half way through he up and left you with his black card and flew back to the mansion to deal with an "emergency". Your best guess was a whiny sugar baby was getting pissy.

At the end of the trip you flew back and had to catch an uber home. None of them even came to pick you up from the airport. Though with how they reacted to your statements at the reception could you really blame them?

Regardless you practically snuck into the mansion with the help of Alfred who showed you to a small guest room on the first floor. It had a single queen sized bed without even a comforter, just a white duvet, and on either side of the bed were nightstands.

"Thank you Alfred." You nodded to.

"You're welcome." He bows. "If there's anything else you need please feel free to inform me immediately."

"Brucie left this with me in his vacation home, can you give this back to him and tell him I said thank you for the take out?" You handed over the black card.

"Take out?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. And for letting me use the Wayneflix account while I was there. If I may make a slight suggestion, give your regency era shows more attention. Thank you Alfred. I'll go unpack now."

"I've already taken the liberty of unpacking your clothes into the wardrobe and dresser." He revealed.

"You didn't need to do that."

"I know you requested that I not but I felt I'd rather have your room ready for you than for you to stress when you arrived." He bowed.

"That's very sweet but I have a very particular system. My outfits all fit together in a specific way." You start to rearrange your clothes in the way you see fit.

"Might I learn how you like them so I can properly sort them next time?"

"No, it's okay. I can do my own laundry." You offered.

"Have you ever done your own laundry?" He raised an eyebrow accusingly.

"Well... no." You confessed. "But you already have like 14 other people's laundry to do. I don't want to be a bother. Besides I don't want you to waste a few weeks when it won't matter in a few years."

"So Master Damian has told me you've said. Nevertheless I'm willing to learn to do this if you are willing to learn how to do your own cooking and laundry."

"Why are you helping me?"

"I've met many people whom Master Wayne has brought into his life. You are the first who's actually wanted to fend for yourself. If you are running a long con into Master Wayne's pocket it's either the smartest or the dumbest plan I've ever seen concocted. Besides, many of the Wayne's don't currently reside here full time. Master Dick lives with his wife missus Koriand'r. Master Jason lives in a renovated greenhouse studio apartment. Miss Barbara and Miss Cassandra live as roommates. And Master Wayne lives in either his WayneTech or home Office. I have more than enough time to learn."

You genuinely smiled for the first time since you heard about the engagement. The two of you spent the rest of the day organizing clothes and making cookies.

"-And that is the difference between Light Academia and Pastel Academia.”

He looked stunned. "How do you keep all this straight?"

"It's just something I got into because I wanted to disassociate from my hopeless reality. I figured fake it till you make it right? Someday I could have a different, more quiet life. And finding subtle nuances between aesthetics is honestly fun. Like a game of spot the difference."

“Oh my! Look at the time! It’s already 4 o’clock!” Alfred looks stunned at the time.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spend four hours talking about this.”

"It's quite alright Missus Wayne."

"I'll go bring these to Brucie. Might as well let him know that he's not getting any inheritance from a tragic accident that happened to me."

"Master Wayne cares for you. I hope you know that. It may not be in the most... romantic measure... but I swear that he was not lying on your wedding day when he said he'd remain faithful to you." Alfred tried to reassure.

"If you say so Alfred." You gave him a small smile.

Alfred looked at her sadly as she walked away. He wished there was more he could do to help you fit in around the manor. Someone as grounded as you would be a good addition in Brice's life, he just knew it!

Later in the Batcave, Alfred confronted Bruce

"Master Wayne I have an idea on how to keep your new wife busy."

"Why should I care about what's she's doing with her life? I have more important things to do than to worry about than some nepo-baby throwing a tantrum.

"Why should you care? How about the fact that you have never had a serious relationship and making this work is crucial for your public image? How about the fact that she has given up her entire life to cater towards your brash decision after one petty comment Mr. West made about your love life?" Alfred started listing off reasons; becoming more irate as he did. "How about the fact that if she's not kept busy during the day she'll eventually stumble upon the entrance of the Batcave?"

That peaked Bruce's interest. "I'm listening." He swivels around in his chair.

"Offer her a job as the family's social media manager." Alfred proposed.

"What? Why?" Bruce looked at him, skeptically.

"She's very knowledgeable about different aesthetics and trend. She could make this family look..." He tried to find a nice word to describe them.

"Normal?" Bruce interrupts with an almost bored look on his face.

"I was going to say civil but that works too." Alfred shrugged as Bruce groaned. "Don't take it the wrong way Master Wayne. I love this Family with all my heart but you cannot deny that they can be a bit rowdy at times."

"A bit is an understatement. It would look good for your PR... fine. Go ask her... but If it is not up to Wayne Enterprise standards you're firing her for me!"

So that's what you've been doing for the past few months.

"Jason, I'm telling you, motorcycles are out! Most girls aren't going for the bad boy vibe anymore! They're into Timothée Chalamet!" You argued over the phone with Jason, Bruce's most rebellious child, even more so than the 12 year old pain in the ass! "Fine, we'll talk later. I have an unexpected visitor anyway." You looked behind you as Bruce entered.

Bruce made a habit of being loud around the house for her. You knew he was being exceptionally weird but you didn't exactly know why. You didn't really care all that much either.

He came up behind you and started to massage your shoulders. "Jason giving you trouble again."

"...yeah." You said shrinking into yourself. The one thing you hadn't quite gotten used to was Bruce's attempts to flirt with you. You knew that he wanted to keep public image favorable, but it didn't make sense why he flirted with you behind closed doors.

He leaned down and started kissing your exposed shoulders in your off the shoulder sweater dress. You wriggled out and away from him in discomfort and he looked at you puzzled. "What's wrong?"

"I don't like you touching me." You confessed. "I don't- ...I don't see us that way... I'm sorry."

He sat on the edge of your desk. "You have nothing to apologize for. I'm the one who should apologize. It's just that... we haven't done anything yet and-"

"And what? You think I'm a slut that's just going to put out for you?" You interrupted.

"No! I just meant that you were probably wanting me to... be more romantic... I thought you'd want me to instigate something..." He stood there, not knowing what to do.

"Well you thought wrong." You left your office angrily. You stomped out of there and went to the library. You looked over all the books they had. Classics like the Iliad and Crime and Punishment to so many romance novels. But one book in particular caught your interest. The History of Taxes.

"Who wants to read about taxes?" You cringed. The book looked relatively untouched. 'Typical,' you thought. 'Rich people can't even be bothered to try and read the books they have in their house.' She went to pull it out and found the bookshelf moving.

On the other side was the answer to one of the greatest mysteries she's had since she came to Gotham, "Who is Batman and Co?"

There it was! The Batcave and All it's glory...

Oh... the bags under his eye of sleepless nights, the flirty persona, the stomping around trying to make his presence known to you.

"Bruce Wayne is Batman..." No sooner had you said those words did you feel a sharp pain in the back of your head and the world fade into darkness...

251 notes · View notes

froggibus · 1 year ago

Note

Hi!

I saw your requests were open so I was wondering if I could request the Batboys with an s/o who passes out from a fever.

I hope you’re doing well!!

Passing Out From A Fever - Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Wally West

Pairing: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake and Wally West x gn! reader (separately)

Genre: hurt/comfort

Summary: your s/o reacting to you passing out from a fever

Word Count: 1.2k (Dick's), 1k (Jason's), 1.1k (Tim's), 1.1k (Wally's)

CW: sickness/the flu, minor injuries, reader is stubborn and refuses to rest, fainting, established relationship? gn reader but Wally refers to you as a 'damsel in distress', violence + drugs/drug dealers (Jason's) lmk if i missed anything

okok so sorry anon this request is almost 4 months old lmfao. i got a little sidetracked doing other stuff for a while but it is finally here. hope you enjoy it despite how delayed it is

Dick

Dick looks at the numbers on the digital thermometer with a sigh. “Your temperature’s only going up.”

“Is that a bad thing?” You try to joke but your whole body aches, your skin is feverish and clammy, and your head spins every time you open your eyes.

He looks at you seriously, giving you the signature Dick Grayson disappointed older brother, team leader look.

“I take it no patrol tonight?”

He rests his hand on your thigh. “Not a chance in hell.”

“I figured as much,” you grumble.

“I’ll stay in with you tonight,” he insists, giving your leg a squeeze. “We can watch a movie or something. I’ll even let you choose.”

You let out a deep breath, leaning back and resting your head against your cold bed frame. His offer is tempting—it's not often he stays home during the evening. “Okay,” you nod your head slowly. “We’ll stay in tonight.”

He beams at your decision, planting a chaste kiss to your forehead before jumping up and leaving you in your bed. “I’ll be back in an hour, alright?”

You offer a weak thumbs up before relaxing back into your nest of blankets and pillows. It won’t hurt to sleep a little while he’s out, and you are pretty tired.

—

You wake up hours later, Dick nowhere to be seen. Your whole body feels like it’s been set on fire and beat with a baseball bat, but you still struggle out of bed to go find your boyfriend. Of course, he’s nowhere to be seen.

You narrow your eyes, a sinking feeling in your chest because you know exactly where he is. Your hunch is proved right when you open the closet door with shaky hands and see the empty hanger where the Nightwing costume should be.

What happened to staying in tonight? No patrol?

The thought of him leaving you while you feel this sick lights a fuse in your chest, and before you know it, you’re lazily tugging your own suit over your limbs. The suit only makes you feel hotter, your muscles aching in protest, but you need to see him.

By some miracle, you manage to stumble your way across Gotham in the dead of night while dealing with an extremely high fever and body aches.

Still, your boyfriend is nowhere in sight. You followed the trail of beaten thugs and failed robberies straight to the centre of the city, but Nightwing wasn’t there. You feel slightly woozy, your knees shaking below you.

Your phone buzzes in your back pocket and you take it out, the writing blurry on the small glowing screen. You squint but the letters spin on the screen, and you can’t seem to make them out.

In fact, when you look up from the screen, the whole world is spinning. Your head feels impossibly heavy, and suddenly your body is pitching forwards.

————

Dick knows he’s fucked when he gets home and you’re nowhere to be seen. He sees the open closet door and the empty hanger where your costume should’ve been, and groans.

If only he had just stayed home like he said. Guilt overwhelms him, but he swallows it back and forces himself to push through.

You shouldn’t even be out of bed, let alone roaming the city dressed as a vigilante. Dick cards his fingers through his hair and starts to make his way through the city again.

He assumes you were trying to find him, so he circles back through his usual patrol spots. The longer it takes to find you, the more anxious and guilty he feels.

It’s all his fault that you’re even in this mess, stumbling through the city sick and disoriented.

He finds you unconscious on a rooftop, tucked away in a corner, a small cut on your face from what he assumes was the impact. Seeing you like this makes his heart drop and for what feels like a thousand years, he watches you and waits for your chest to rise. He stares, holding his own breath until he finally sees your lungs inflate with air.

He’s scooping you up in his arms and carrying you back to the apartment in an instant, careful not to jostle you too much. He can feel your feverish skin through your costume, sweat pooling on your forehead and neck. He could set a record for how fast he had you home.

He changes you out of your suit and into comfortable pjs, patching up the mark on your face and tucking you into bed. He’s always taken care of his younger brothers so he knows just how to take care of you.

He puts an ice pack on your forehead to keep you from burning up too much and gets water and ginger ale for your nightstand. He knows you’ll need fluids and medicine when you wake up and he wants to be prepared.

Even after he’s prepared everything and double checked his, his nerves don’t settle. You’ve been out cold for at least an hour, with no sign of waking up. Another hour of this and he’ll have to take you to the hospital.

He paces the room, eyes never leaving your sleeping figure. Wake up, wake up, wake up. He tries to will you awake, hoping your eyes will open any second and you’ll berate him for leaving you.

“Dick..?”

His pacing comes to a stop, eyes snapping to yours. “Oh, thank god,” he kneels next to your side of the bed and takes your hand in his. “How’re you feeling?”

As if on cue, you groan in pain. The ice pack he placed on your forehead does little to help with the heat that’s ignited your whole body. Your eyes feel painfully heavy, and all of your muscles feel inflamed.

He holds a glass of water up to your lips, helping you tip your head back so you can drink some. He pops a couple pills into your mouth and pours some more water in to wash them down.

“They’ll probably take fifteen minutes to work,” he keeps his voice quiet. “You’ll feel a lot better soon though, I promise. I’ll make sure you’re all better.”

You nod weakly. “You—you left me…”

Dick’s heart breaks at the sound of your sad, weak voice. He was hoping you wouldn’t dwell on that too much, the reminder that his fuck up for you into this mess weighing heavily on him.

“I know, baby. And I’m so, so sorry. There was an emergency and I thought I could sneak out quick but,” he sighs and tugs on his hair. “I’m not gonna leave your side until you’re all better, okay? Never again.”

You’re too tired and sick to care for grovelling, you’re just glad he’s here and you don’t have to suffer alone. You reach a hand out to grab his hand and weakly tug him towards the bed.

Dick obliges, crawling in next to you and letting you rest on his chest. “I’m gonna make you all better, hm? You’ll be all better soon, hun.”

His soothing voice coupled with the circles he traces on your back are enough to keep you content until the medicine kicks in. Then, you’re drifting back to sleep in Dick’s arms, already feeling better from the turmoil of the day

Jason

You think Jason may be the most dense man on the planet. Unlike his father, his detective skills seriously need some work.

When you woke up this morning with a fever and aches, you were sure you could push through it. It’s just a little cold, or so you thought. As the day turned into night and you got ready for patrol, your symptoms only worsened.

Your body aches grew worse, your fever grew hotter and your movements got sluggish. Still, you brushed it off. You never miss patrol with Jason, and tonight wasn’t going to be a first.

“You’re off to a slow start,” he teases.

You would roll your eyes if you weren’t so tired. “Shut up. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

It’s a total lie, of course. And if he could see the swelling of your glassy eyes or touch your boiling skin, he would know otherwise. Lucky for you, the adrenaline rush Jason gets on patrol creates a kind of tunnel vision that allows him to completely overlook your symptoms.

You stumble a bit, having to brace yourself against one of the shipping containers. You’re glad Jason shot out all of the street lamps at the old dock, leaving you in perpetual darkness. A perfect cover to hide the pain you’re feeling.

You take a deep breath and groan, pushing off of the container and running to catch up with him. The friction only makes you hotter, the air being forced from your lungs. Your head spins and black spots crowd your vision, but you take a weak breath and force them away. Now is not the time to be weak.

Jason tilts his head at you, and you can feel his judging eyes from under the mask. “Seriously, are you okay? Did you get hurt or something?”

“Did you? You’re off your game too, Red.” You try to nudge him teasingly but it just sends a shockwave through your body, your head suddenly pounding.

He looks like he’s going to say something you don’t want to hear but you’re saved by the bell when an unlucky drug dealer stumbles into view. Jason is pouncing on him in a minute, leaving you to your thoughts.

His form gets blurrier the more you watch him fight, and you swear your arms and legs are growing heavier by the second. Your head lulls back and you worry for a minute that you’re going to pass out.

You manage to catch yourself, pinching your arms to keep yourself aware. It works, but only for a second. You have enough time to make eye contact with Jason before your eyes are rolling back and you’re dropping like a sack of potatoes.

—

Jason is freaking the fuck out. For a minute, he’s worried you’re injured—or worse. All he saw was your panicked expression before you dropped to the pavement. If he wasn’t so worried, he would have laughed at your lack of grace.

He makes quick work of the remaining drug dealers, tearing through them with all the anxiety he’s feeling. By the time he’s made it to you, your body is practically on fire. He flinched away at first, not expecting your skin to be as hot as it is.

“You idiot,” he lifts you into his arms, letting your head hang over his shoulder. “You should’ve just told me you were sick.”

He forces himself to keep his calm demeanour the whole way to the apartment. He doesn’t let himself worry until you’re both changed out of your patrol clothes and into normal, ordinary pyjamas.

He has you laid down in the passenger seat of his car, his foot pressing heavily on the gas the entire way to the hospital. He knows it’s just a fever, but you fainted. Something could be seriously wrong, and he can’t chance anything. Not with you.

—

You come to in the hospital, an IV in your arm. It takes a few blinks for you to take in your surroundings, but even then, it’s hard to keep your eyes open. Your throbbing headache does not mesh well with the fluorescent lights.

“Jason,” your voice is barely a whisper. “Did you take me to the hospital?”

“No shit,” he scoffs. “

You would laugh at his brazenness if you weren’t in so much pain. The scratchy cotton thread of the hospital blankets aren’t enough to keep you warm, and despite being covered in sweat, you’re shivering.

Jason sighs. “You’re an idiot, you know that? You could’ve just told me you were sick.”

“I-I—,” you can barely speak with how bad you’re shivering.

Jason’s heart hurts at the sight of you, and despite how frustrated he is with your antics, he climbs into the bed with you and lets you lay against his chest.

You relax into him, trying to sap his body heat. You know this can’t exactly be comfortable for him, especially considering you’re a million degrees, and it makes you appreciate it even more.

“You know, I thought about just tossing you in the harbour and calling it a day.”

You let out a weak laugh at that. “I’m sure you did.”

“Okay, maybe not,” he admits, “but if you ever do that to me again, you will be taking an impromptu swim.”

“As you wish, Jay.”

He kisses the top of your head, “get some rest, hm?”

You nod weakly, letting your body sag against his. Just as sleep begins to take you, you mumble, “I love you.”

Jason’s heart flutters at your words. “I love you too.”

Tim

Tim is such a hypocrite.

When he pushes himself to his absolute limit, staying up until he quite literally drops, it’s fine. But god forbid you try to push yourself even the slightest, or there’s hell to pay from your boyfriend.

“Tim, I’m fine,” you insist, narrowing glassy eyes on him.

He raises his eyebrows in annoyance. “You’re not fine, y/n. You’re burning up. You’re so congested you sound like a little kid. You need rest.”

“Rest, schmest. I’m coming with you.”

“Y/n, honey, love of my life…if you try to come with me, I will slip you Nyquil and you will take a nap.”

You maintain your glare. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Maybe I already have,” he shrugs, an amused smirk tugging at his lips. “How was the tea I brought you earlier?”

Your eyes shoot wide and you scramble to inspect the now empty Wayne Enterprises mug. There’s no indication that it looks or smells different from any other tea. You look up again, ready to mock laugh at your boyfriend, but he’s no longer there.

“Fucking Timothy,” you shake your head.

He’s been trying to force you to get bed rest all day, refusing to even let you come with him to the grocery store. Sure, you have a fever and you’re congested and your head really hurts, but that doesn’t mean you have to stay in bed.

You toss the blankets onto the other side of his bed and struggle your way out of it. The air outside of his bed is cold, forcing goosebumps onto your arms, but you don’t care. You tug on one of Tim’s sweatshirts and stumble your way downstairs.

He’s gone when you get down there, the only semblance of human life being Alfred sitting at the kitchen table. He’s reading a newspaper, seemingly deep in thought, yet the minute you step towards the front door, he speaks.

“If you are trying to follow Master Timothy, I would advise against that.”

“I-I wasn’t…how did you know?”

He smiles at you, “Master Timothy expected you would try to follow him, and asked that I make sure you rest.”

“Damn you, Tim.”

“I’ve prepared some water in the kettle and there are blankets on the couch if you’d like to watch a tv show with me?”

“That sounds great, thank you,” you sigh, giving up and trudging your way to the couch.

You settle in under a blanket, leaning your head against the couch cushion. Alfred comes in a few minutes later with two glasses of tea and a bottle of medicine.

You thank the man and take a few pills and the mug of tea, swallow down the pills and set the tea on the nightstand.

Alfred turns on the TV and starts to play one of his English soap operas. The sounds all blur together and you fade in and out of consciousness, every once and a while snapping back to reality when you hear the door unlock.

Of course, a million people seem to come and go from Wayne Mansion and your boyfriend is nowhere to be seen. Alfred has seemed to doze off as well, his eyes closed and head resting on the couch cushion behind him.

You stand up from the couch on shaky legs, discarding the blankets next to you. You feel dizzy and lightheaded as soon as you stand up but you persevere.

You’re not really sure where you’re going, all you know is that you want to see Tim and the first step is getting to the front door. You make it to the front entrance, and you’re only five feet from the door, but your whole body hurts so bad and you’re so tired and everything is so hot and cold.

You brace yourself on the wall, leaning your whole body weight on it. You blink a few times, trying to keep the black spots from spreading to your vision. Everything overheats, and your muscles start to weaken. Before you can take another step, your body is failing, and your vision is going black.

—

Tim comes home just in time to see you hit the floor. He drops his groceries onto the floor, not even closing the door behind him as he runs to your side.

“Y/n?” He presses a cold hand to your forehead, “y/n, wake up!”

He gently shakes your shoulders, willing you to wake up and be okay. His family all arrive at once, staring at the two of you on the floor.

“Why couldn’t you just stay in bed? Dummy.”

He slips his hands under your knees and arms, lifting you off the ground. Your skin is hot to the touch but you’re shivering, sweat rolling down your temples. He carries you back to his room, laying you down in the bed and covering you in blankets.

He knows rationally that you’ll be okay, that your body was just responding to the exertion you put it through today. But emotionally? He’s freaking out. He can’t help but wish he’d stayed home with you, taken care of you himself, laid in bed with you all day.

Tim tries to distract himself by bringing up water and medicine and a cold cloth for you, but it does little to calm his nerves. Every minute that it takes you to wake up, he only gets more and more anxious.

Finally, after almost two hours, your eyes flutter open. Your head is pounding and it’s hard to keep from falling back asleep, but you force yourself to stay awake.

“Tim?” You call out, your voice even raspier than before.

“Hey, hey, I’m here,” he murmurs, getting up from his desk and kneeling at your side. “How are you feeling?”

“Bad,” you admit, tears threatening to spill. “Really bad.”

He hands you two pills and a glass of water. “Here, take these, okay?”

You struggle to swallow the pills and water but somehow manage. The pain in your body is enough to bring you to tears and you can only hope that the medicine will kick in soon.

Tim rubs your forehead with the back of his hand. “You’re burning up…”

“I—will you lay with me? I miss you…”

Tim can only oblige. You just look so cute and so vulnerable with your glassy eyes and clammy skin. He wouldn’t dare say no to you right now.

He kicks off his jeans and t-shirt, trading them for a pair of sweatpants before settling in next to you. He can feel your body heat even though he’s not touching you, and even though he wants to hold you, he’s not sure if he should.

“Are you hot or cold?” He asks.

“Cold.”

That’s all the answer he needs before he tugs you into his chest, holding your body gently to his. He places a small kiss on your forehead and makes a silent vow not to leave your side until you feel better.

Wally

“Are you sure you should be going on this mission?” Wally looks at you seriously.

“Yes. Why are you even asking?”

He presses a hand to your skin, recoiling when he feels how hot you are. “Jesus, you’re hot.”

“Well, hello to you too.” You roll your eyes.

“Y/n, you don’t look too good. I don’t think you should be coming along,” he looks at you with genuine concern. “You’re running real hot and that’s coming from me.”

“Wally, if I don’t come along, the whole mission is screwed.”

“I know, I know. You’re so stubborn,” he sighs. “Come along but the minute you start to feel worse, you tell me, alright?”

“Alright.”

He flashes you his signature grin, planting a kiss to your nose. He squeezes your shoulders once, before giving you a half assed salute and taking off at the speed of light.

You smile after him, but your smile fades once he’s out of sight. Your head is spinning and your whole body feels like it’s on fire. With the way your muscles are aching, you’re not sure if you’ll even be able to finish the mission.

Still, you have to try.

————

Going on this mission was a mistake.

It feels like every floor of the sinister science institute is filled with more and more baddies, tougher ones too. You were beat after the first floor, but now that you’re on the fifth, with three more to go, you’re not even sure if you’ll make it.

You can hear Wally up ahead, zooming back and forth and taking out any baddies in his way. You know he’s partly doing this for you—trying to clear the floor and make things easier on you. He’d asked you one more time before you entered the facility if you were feeling up to it, and after you insisted you were, he didn’t bother to argue.

You almost wish he did, though. Your head is spinning, everything hurts and everything is so hot and sweaty. You try to force yourself to stay awake, but even you know your movements are slow and sluggish and you’re a danger to all of your teammates.

Nightwing is somewhere behind you, insisting there’s an air duct he can sneak through to get to the main lab before they evacuate. A part of you wishes you’d gone with him. At least then you wouldn’t be stuck leaning against a wall, desperately trying to get your bearings.

You force yourself onto your feet, stumbling down the hall after Wally. You only make it a few steps before your muscles turn to jello and the black spots crowd your version.

You go limp, your mind retreating far, far away.

Wally turns around just in time to see you go limp, and he’s speeding down the hallway and catching you within a fraction of a second. He doesn’t give you the chance to hit the ground, his arms already under your knees and shoulders, ready to carry you to safety.

Your skin is hot to the touch, hotter than it was earlier. He shakes his head at you. He knew this was gonna happen. He knew you would push yourself too hard and end up getting yourself hurt.

He gets you out of the building and into the jet you and some of the other Titans had taken to get there. He hates the thought of leaving you there, but he knows you would never forgive him if he abandoned the team now.

Still, he only gets more and more anxious the longer the mission takes. The second Dick secures the samples he was looking for, Wally is taking off. He’s got you in his arms, speeding back towards your shared apartment.

He’s got you home in a matter of seconds, changing you into a pair of his boxers and one of his old t-shirts. He tucks your boiling body into bed, covering you with blankets up to your waist.

He doesn’t really know how to take care of someone when they're sick. Whenever he was sick as a kid, he would always just eat ice cream and play video games. That, or he would sneak out and go hang out with Dick or Connor.

But he knows you need more than ice cream and video games right now.

He decides on grabbing you water and digging through your cabinets to find any medicine that could possibly help. He tries to remember what his mom did for him when he was young, and all he can think of is a cold cloth on his forehead. Still, that’s better than leaving you there to boil to death.

He lays the cloth gently on your forehead, leaving your water and medicine on the nightstand for when you wake up.

He changes out of his suit, opting for a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. Of course, you’re wearing his favorite t-shirt, but this one will have to do. He settles into the bed next to you, turning on the tv. He tries to keep the volume and the brightness low.

After what seems like forever, you start to stir. Everything is too bright and hot when you open your eyes, and it has you squirming and crying. Wally is grabbing your hand as soon as you wake up, using his other hand to press the cold cloth into your forehead.

“Shhh, babe, it’s okay.”

You clench your eyes shut and shake your head. “E-everything hurts so bad!”

He reaches across you for the water and the medicine, holding the glass up to your lips so you can take a sip before popping the pills into your mouth. You gladly swallow them, relaxing slightly at the taste of water. Wally sets the glass on the nightstand, resting his hands on your thighs.

“I’m sorry for pushing myself so hard…I’m sorry that you had to clean up after me.”

“Aw baby,” he grins at you, but it’s not as wide and carefree as it usually is. “You know how much I love rescuing damsels in distress.”

Classic Wally, trying to make you laugh even when you feel like you’re on your deathbed. He rubs your thighs gently up and down, trying to soothe you.

“Did the mission at least go okay?”

He kisses you gently, “don’t you worry your pretty little head about the mission, okay?”

He goes to pull away but you weakly wrap your arms around him, trying to pull him to you. He wraps his arms around your shoulders, holding you tightly.

“It’s okay baby,” he whispers. “Everything is gonna be okay. I love you so much.”

#dick grayson x you #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd #tim drake x you #tim drake x reader #tim drake #wally west #wally west x reader #wally west x you #batfam x you #batboys #jason todd hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort

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lazycats-stuff · 5 months ago

Text

Batfamily - masterlist with child/teen readers

Batfamily & male!reader, PART 2

Hi! Sorry I don’t know if you’re st ill taking requests but if you are, can I request a male!vigilante!Y/N. he’s likes 13-15 (younger than Tim but a older than Damian). He’s a orphan and been the infamous vigilante who goes by Jinx. He’s like super duper smart and knows martial arts and overall a total badass. The bat family has been trying to catch him for a couple of months now since he’s been like stealing their missions. Y/N just finished stopping a drug dealing near the docks. He’s about to leave when night wing and Robin (Damian) jump in front of him. They fight and robin kicks him in the ocean, knocking him out. When nightwing sees he’s not coming back, he goes and rescues him. So like they take him back to the bat cave and they put him in a cell and interrogate him, they find out he’s just a kid, a orphan and knows their secret identities (cause like I said, he’s super smart) Bruce decides to adopt the kid saying something like that it’s ether being adopted or going to jail. And Y/N and Damian aren’t happy about but have no choice and yeah that’s it. Sorry if it’s complicated or long - REQUEST

Batfamily & gn!reader - platonic

Can I request a gn!reader x batfam? The reader is in the batfamily business and is the 2nd youngest. They’re on a mission with the others, when they get hit by a alien tech which turns the reader into a toddler (2-3 years old?)😱 so the batfamily had to take care of the reader till they find an antidote. You can end it with the reader being turned back to their original age? - REQUEST

Batfamily & male!reader - platonic

May i request a baby bat (preferably male) that's left at home with a babysitter (it was after Alfred's surgery or he could just be sick but he's resting) while everyone is out on missions and the babysitter is completely ignoring the babies cries for food and a diaper change while titus is trying to comfort him (btw i noticed that you write titus as doberman even though he's a great dane? Please don't take offense i didn't know if this was on purpose or not so i just thought I'll point it out!) baby ends up crawling out of his crib, out of the doggy door and into the streets in only a diaper and shorts and of course titus is right behind, every time baby tries to go into traffic titus is gently nudging him away with his snout , every time a random person tries to pick up the baby and take him to the police titus is not having it, until eventually word reaches the batfam about this and they go to investigate and the unbelievable anger they felt after watching the camera footage of inside their house, you can choose what happens to the babysitter but family fluff with the baby please! Sorry if this is long i just heard from other writers that the more details they have the easier it is to write, thank you!

Batfamily & male!reader - platonic

Can I request a batfamily x male reader where reader is the youngest member(just a few months or so younger than Damien) and brings home a tiger he’s somehow managed to tame and is trying to convince his family to let him keep it?

Batfamily & male!reader, PART 2 - platonic

Batfamily x teen!reader who’s like younger than Timmy but older than dami, and he’s also a vigilante and were one before being taken in by the family. Anyways he has been with the family for a little while now and he’s close with every member, heck even he’s even close with the JL. But the batfamily doesn’t really know much about the reader’s past, and it’s a big deal if the world greatest detective doesn’t know ether. So a mission goes wrong and the reader is hurt so they obviously have to remove some of their clothing to treat him and they are shocked when they find many scars on the reader’s body. They decide to ask them about it when he wakes up. Once the reader wakes up and sees his body wrapped in bandages, he panics and has a panic attack because he knows they know about his scars now. One of the family member comes in and calms him down, and once’s he’s calm, they ask about how he got these scars. The reader knows he can’t keep lying anymore so he reluctantly tells them. His backstory is like Damians and cass. His father has a clan of his own and he trained the reader from birth to be the best assassin in the world. His punishments and training were harsher than Damian’s even. But he ran away from all that when he was 10. By the time he finishes the rest of the family is there and heard everything, he just breaks down crying again and the whole family now comforts him, telling him he’s safe now. IM SORRY IF YOUR UNCOMFORTABLE BY THIS :(

Batfamily & male!reader - platonic

Baby bat who gets kidnapped by lex Luthor but has no clue what’s happening like he’s being taken to metropolis and baby bats is like are we thiere yet singing and being a menace Thiere confused on why an ugly bald guy is taking them out but Luthor gets fed up and leaves the kid somewhere and they just vibe

Batfamily & male!reader, part 2 - platonic

I hope it’s not too weird but can I request batfam a batbro!reader, older than Damian but younger then Tim that isn’t very emotional when it comes to death? Like they don’t understand why people are so hysterical over death. Maybe an animal died and they just go “oh they’re dead” like it was nothing. Hope ur doing well, I’m projecting so much with this but I can’t wait to see what you do if you do. I love ur writing, can’t wait to read more 🫶

Batfamily & male!reader, part 2 - platonic

Another request, hope it’s not bad. But batbro!reader who was raised to be perfect. Who’s older than Damian bur younger than Tim. But I was thinking maybe Bruce and readers mum have split custody and his mum is very demanding, the reader doing things like music and ballet (I just love dancing bc I was a dancer) and their mum pushes them to be perfect, in that and schoolwork and belittles then if it’s not perfect. Like they are worse than most of the family, not sleeping and always studying or pushing his body to the limits with practice. The family is going to a dancing competition for Cassandra and the reader is performing but they don’t know, reader not getting first place and they see how his mother reacts badly, maybe belittling the reader, their reaction maybe. Hope it makes sense, if you are uncomfortable with it dw🫶. I’ve seen so many assassin or killer ones.

Batfamily & male!reader - platonic

Oh god, i don't have any specific scenarios but i would really like to see some more babybat reader? Maybe batfam and a foodie baby? One where he's the happiest when he's eating

Batfam & male!reader - platonic

I'd like to see how batfam deal with babybat (not necessarily baby like 4 or 5) that's obsessed with video games? Like first thing he does in the morning is turn on his playstation before he even has breakfast or anything, maybe Bruce takes him out to get some outside time but instead he's just pointing out how some things look like this certain game he played etc, and basically the only way his brothers can interact with him is if they asked to play with him

Batfam & male!reader - platonic

Hey, I was wondering if you could do the Batfam with a Teen Former black Widow ( sorry English isn't my first language)

Batfam & male!reader - platonic

Can I request a batfamily discovering that Bruce has another biological son(who’s reader and is the second youngest) but also that reader is stuck in a abusive home and they go to save him from it?

Batfam & male!reader - platonic

Im so sorry ,in advance, its okey to ignore the request Batfam x child here this scenario: Batfam where on a mission catching some criminals, like usual but then hearing crying noise on the dark alleyways, when Batman or anyone in the batfamily check to see, When they looked, they saw a crying child with little bit blood on their face , they asked “why are they crying?are you hurt?” or “ are you okey? What happened?” The child pointed at darkest corners of the alley. they looked where the child was pointing at, they saw two of the parents died in the same manner like Batman backstory , when the child look up at them still crying , they lift their arms and said “ c-can I-i *sob*have a-a hug?*sob* p-please” How would the batfamily react? Or what to do to calm the child reader

Batfam & male!reader - platonic

Batfam x little bat bro The batbro is a really quiet kid, not non-verbal, just hardly ever talks. He's just quiet all around, when walking, eating, doing whatever. He also likes to stare a lot. Just imagine the kid suddenly appearing in front of Bruce's desk , you can just see his little grabby hands and the upper part of his face, and he just stares. Definitely is the one to accidentally scare them with suddenly appearing even tho he's been here the whole time. The definition of this --->●_●

Batfamily & male!reader - platonic

Yk the one where batbro reader meets the justice league and the leave absolutely loves him? Could you do one with the young justice with Tim or teens titans with dick or the outlaws with Jason?

Batfamily & male!reader - platonic

Okay hear me out, reader x batfamily okay? The reader is 2nd youngest (like 14) and recently during a mission, they got sent to alternate reality where they’re a bad guy, and witnessed themself kill the batfamily? Obviously you don’t have to write out that part if it makes you uncomfortable, but any ways. Once they return they distant themselves from the family beacuse they’re scared they’re going to hurt the family and turn out like the other evil them? The batfamily has enough of this after a while and corners them and kinda pressures them into telling what’s going on with them, and the reader kinda breaks down and says what they saw and that they’re scared they’re going to hurt their family. The batfam comforts them and tells them that, their nothing like their evil self? Somethin like thattt

Batfamily & male!reader - platonic

Batbro rwader who gets the flu or has bad fever but refuses to rest and still wants to go on patrol? (2nd youngest like 2 years older than dami) PRETTY PLEASEEEEE

Batfamily & male!reader - platonic

Heyo, can I ask for a bat!bro reader who’s around 16 or 17 and they find out that he smokes and drinks? And sometimes some drugs. And he (tries to) hide it from everyone? If not it’s ok, and I hope ur doing good. Can’t wait to see what you write 🫶

Batfamily & male!reader - platonic

Hi! Could you do a Batfam x teen reader, where the reader does illegal street race, he sneaks out at night to go those race, and the Batfam found out about it ! Thank you ;)

Batfamily & male!reader - platonic

Can we get fic where male batbro x batfamily, where his school is having a field trip to Wayne enterprises? I’m not sure if you watch marvel or read marvel fics but it’s basically likes the ones where peters has a field trip to go stark industry’s. Anyways, so Bruce and Tim work their right? Tim is the co-ceo and Tom is just teasing him the whole time Tim gives a tour but when they took a break for the the kids to eat and stuff. Tim walks in on someone picking on batbro reader, the batbro reader doesn’t care that much but Tim does. Tim just gets protective of him and kinda threatens the bullies with a smile?

Batfamily & male!reader - platonic

Can you do a batfam x baby bro reader? Where Bruce puts reader in a Batman onesie and it was cute and when they boys see it they all start fighting, which turns physical quick, over who’s costume reader should wear a onesie of next

Batfamily & male!reader - platonic

My latest obsession > motorcycles ,i know so many people call them death machines but i can't help but get heart eyes when i look at them, anyways i wanted to know how would the batfam react to the youngest family member batbro reader being like that? I'm especially curious about Bruce, will he buy a whole garage for his kid? Or try to steer his interest somewhere else? Also i think Jason will try to be reader's riding buddy <3

Batfamily & male!reader - platonic

Could you do a batfam x batbro reader? Where reader is the 2nd youngest and they all accidentally forget his birthday, and they see him all teary eyed and they all feel really guilty and go to apologize to him except plot twist, batbro also forgot that it was his birthday and was teary eyed because he saw a really emotional scene in a video game he was playing and it made him tear up

Batfamily & male!reader - platonic

Can I ask for a follow up on Australian bat!bro reader where he gets annoyed bc they won’t let him drink alcohol or smth? Here in Australia there is alot of underage drinking. (I mean I got high and tipsy at my 17th birthday party with parental permission💀) Just thinking about the culture shock most of them would get 😭

Batfamily & male!reader - platonic

Hey, I love your fics. I wanted to request a bat!bro reader who’s 16 where Bruce has split custody with his mum (he grew up with his mum and wanted split) but it turns out his mum was just using him to get money from Bruce and is kind of neglectful? And he always gives it to her bc he’s a mamas boy? Stay safe and don’t forget to stay hydrated <33

Batfamily & male!reader - platonic

Hello, I was wondering if you could do a Batfam x teen reader, who does figure skating?

Batfamily & male!reader - platonic

Hello, firstly I love your writings ! I was wondering if you could do a Batfam x teen reader, who is like the winter soldier from Marvel? He has a Metal arm and has been trained to be a weapon . Only if you want to, of course. have a good day !

Batfamily & male!reader - platonic

Could you do batfam x baby bat reader? Where reader is a tiny force of chaos who likes to run around and cause mischief, and the only person he’s perfectly behaved with (aside from Alfred) is Damian, and while the rest of the family is trying to figure out why, Damian is just being smug cause even as an infant his little brother obviously knows who his superior brother is

Batfamily & male!reader, PART 2 (requested by @stealing-kneecaps) - platonic

Hi, this is my first time asking here I really love your work and also the whole reason me going into the DC fandom really... Anyway, back to my request can you do like a fluffy interaction with the batfamily when child (male or gn) reader told them that they had a "boyfriend" at school. Not entirely sure if this is really you're cup of tea and if not you can ignore it.

Batfamily & male!reader - platonic

Hello I was wondering if you could write a teen male reader with the Batfam. The reader is super into technology and hacking stuff and kinda helps the fam in the background of mission Thanks you!

Batfamily & male!reader - platonic

Can you do a teen reader (younger than Damian by 1 or 2 years) x batfam, where he is spider man? (I mean kinda like miles morales, he has electricity powers but his webs are organic too and doesn’t need a web shooters.) he is Bruce’s biological child and his mother died, yk his canon event and what not. So he has to move to Gotham and isn’t happy about. Just distant and all. One night He sneaked out and bought a train ticket and went to New York, and was only spider man and just slept in somewhere. So the batfamily tracked him to New York, and while looking for him, they bump into him as spider man. They have to team up to find a villian but reafer gets hurt in the end and his mask fell off and they see it’s reader? They bring him and just have a talk when he wakes up and they come to conclusion for him to join the family in their fighting in Gotham?

Batfamily x male!reader - platonic

Hello author. I hope your having a splendid day May I request a reader x batfamily ( a year younger than Damian) They are a Demi god of lightning and electricity. He has been having a hard time with cases and failing and stuff like that, too much pressure. And he’s kind of hitting his breaking point. So during a fight with a villain, alone. The villain corrupts the reader and makes him evil. For a few months he became a villain and barely anyone could stop him. The batfamily at first didn’t know it was him but during a mission that was orders by the villain that corrupted him, to kill Althea (your oc) but Althea got away with injures but saw his face and told her mom and her mom told bats. So with this new information the batfamily were more devastated . With the help of the justice league the batfamily are in a show down with the reader, somewhere near a cliff and they fight and while also talking about their memories together. Reader was too powerful though and restrains everyone with use his electricity. His eyes are red and with dead eyes he walks towards any batfamily member of your choice and was about to deliver the final blow before the bat member looks at them and says ‘ I love you, my son/little brother’ reader hesitates and his eyes widens and filled with tears, the red disappearing. He’s of course confused and disoriented, he steps back and not notices the cliff. His mind coming back to me as he slowly lets his restaions of the others disappear. He steps back near the cliff and looks back into the abyss and back at his family and friends. With regret and a messed up mind right now thinking he won’t be forgiven, he purposely steps back and fall down the cliff. No one was fast enough to stop his fall and he dies. They retrieve his body and they’re just depressed and stuff for a while hut Damian won’t allow his only little sibling to die and takes his body to talia and he gets revived back. when he brings unconscious reader back, the batfamily are upset at him for doing a dangerous act but happy that it went well. Sorry it’s too long.

Batfamily x male!reader - platonic

HEYYY, firstly how are you! I wanted to ask if you could write about a teen male reader with the Batfam. He is kinda like the winter soldier if you know what I mean ( skilled fighter, metal arm..), since he lived with the Batfam he was doing a good mental recovery, but one day he goes back to winter soldier mode on the fam, and they try to get him back to normal again, idk Thanks you bye !

Batfamily x male!reader - platonic

Ok this one is mainly for Alfred but u could add batbros and batdad if u want, anyways i was wondering what would alfred (or any of the fam) do to stop BatToddler reader tantrum? Like i imagine the setting would be grocery shopping and Alfred's only getting healthy food including boring plain cereal and BatToddler is not having it and only wants sugar loaded cereal and starts whining and tearing up right there in the middle of the store, would alfred give in to those tears or find an alternative? I imagine batdad would give in and the brothers might even encourage it giving that they probably eat the same junk food

Batfamily & male!reader - platonic

(Kind of self projecting sorry lol) SO! BabyBat has an upset stomach but Bruce's too anxious about giving him medicine because can his baby stomach handle those chemicals? Insert Alfred rolling up his sleeves "give him here master Bruce" a tired Bruce just hands him over without question and watches as alfred and baby head to the kitchen and suddenly...baby stopped crying? Bruce walks into the kitchen seeing flower stems on the counter and Alfred standing there with a sleeping baby "...How?" "Rosewater master Bruce, i made and fed him Rosewater" Not sure how to end this but basically BabyBat would only drink Rosewater from now on and Bruce has to upgrade his gardening game ,Alfred always has already-made Rosewater so his Grandson is always hydrated and the rest of batbros are just like "hell yeah my brother's too fancy for regular water" I hope you except my request and thank u! I love u

Batfamily x male!reader - platonic

I remember back when i was a few months old and still using a baby walker, I'll wake up early morning but my parents will be too exhausted to get up yet so my older sister will put me in the walker in front of the TV and turn on something like national geographic or anything about animals then I'm entertained for hours(might take a stroll around the livingroom but with my eyes still on the tv) even though i understood nothing lol, can i see something like that with batfam and babybat? I feel like this is something batbros will definitely do if they're too tired to entertain their baby brother but still want to hangout with him(they just end up open mouthed staring at the tv just like the baby < Bruce's favourite site in the morning)

Batfamily x male!reader - platonic

U know those adorable videos where big brothers are the most gentle and just keep picking up and kissing their baby sibling no matter if the baby was sleeping or not? I imagine babybatbro (triple B lol) will be napping next to Bruce in bed and then which ever batbro will come in and steal the baby with no explanation hehe, I'd like to see something like that with all 4 batbros please

Batfamily x male!reader - platonic

Artist toddler batbro! Can't help but draw/ paint at least once a day and at the end of the day batfam is anticipating who will be the lucky family member that'll receive which ever art piece their youngest has created that day (sometimes the art piece is on the walls or floor of the mansion but no one has the heart to be angry when little batbro is just proudly presenting his art) Toddler batbro *leaves a paint covered tiny handprint on the wall* Bruce: alfred, frame that

Batfamily x male!reader - platonic

I hope you don’t mind can I request a Batfam x Genius child male reader like child male reader is basically smart (and comes from a wealthy and influence family) and has higher IQ for someone so young (smarter than the rest of Batfam) Bruce met child male reader in the funeral when child male reader grandparents died leaving child male reader orphan because his parents also died. Somehow child male reader was strangely attach to Bruce even tho it's there first time meeting so he just walk up to Bruce and stare at him in wonder. Which also leads everyday male reader running away from home and going to Wayne manor because he wanted to stay close to Bruce and meeting the rest of family and which leads the male reader Butler (who's taking care of reader for time being until someone or close relative steps up and takes the role to raise reader) to apologize everytime when picks reader up from the Wayne manor. Reader already knows all the Batfam especially the Justice League secret identity with just one look at them. Male reader who is shy, quite (rarely ever makes a sound) and well mannered. Male reader has a habit of touching the technology of the bat cave or the Justice league base and knows how to fix them aswell

Batfamily & male!reader - romantic with Bruce Wayne

Hello, I hope you are doing alright! So I can have a kinda cross over idea for a teen male reader. a mix of Batfam and star wars. The reader is a Jedi padawan that had to flee towards the Earth after the Jedi were forced into hiding and the rest is up to you

Batfamily x male!reader

I love the Brazilian batboy fanfic, consider doing it with a Venezuelan batboy in the future please 🙌🏻

Batfamily x male reader

I wanted to ask for a Batbro who is the son of Bruce and Catwoman, he is the youngest in the family and very similar to Selina, he has the same tastes as his mother, he helps her with robberies, but when Selina is arrested by Batman, the family tries to convince younger brother that stealing is wrong - @eliz36545 and @leleolivr655

Batfamily x male!reader

Hiiii! I was wondering if u could do an male reader x batfam, where the reader is deaf and has to use sign language? P.s I love Ur work Requested by - randomperson3736

Batfamily x male!reader

I wanted to know if you could make another request for the Bat Brother that was created to be a weapon when the Black Canary said he was ready to go to school, Bruce put him in one, but a boy tried to intimidate him and the Bat Brother broke his arm. He still couldn't understand what he did wrong because of his training. - @eliz36545

Batfamily x male reader

Ummm hi I just wanted to ask if you know the Netflix series called The Queen's Gambit? If you know, can you make a story where the reader is Bruce's son Is a chest master. Where he beats everyone in his chess game. Well I would love it if you retained the Queen's Gambit title but if not that's fine too🤣.But in the middle of the story he was angry because someone had managed to beat him in his match so he became annoyed and locked himself in a room to find a strategy.To defeat the person who defeated him. If possible, the one that will distract the reader is the OC. Thank you. Sorry if there are too many requests hehe - @mooonbyyyyy

Batfamily x male!reader

Could you do "baby bat" where a killer tried to kill Bruce Wayne's youngest son when I saw that all the media and the family loved him but Titus was sleeping in his room and saw him and bit him to save the baby - @eliz36545

Batfamily x male reader

Yo, Can u write about Mexican! Batbro (same age or a year older than Damian, like Damian he's a biological son of Bruce) who celebrates dia de muertos, he could make an altar of Thomas and Martha Wayne, he could explain his roots and culture to the batfamily Yo, Can u write about Mexican! Batbro (same age or a year older than Damian, like Damian he's a biological son of Bruce) who celebrates dia de muertos, he could make an altar of Thomas and Martha Wayne, he could explain his roots and culture to the batfamily

Batfamily x male!reader

Hi idk if you're taking requests rn but can you please do if possible batfamily x male reader who's younger than dick but older than jason and he is really shy around batfamily because he came to the family after damian idk if this makes sense and while out on patrol an enemy injects him something that turned him into a toddler but he still has all his memory the rest is up to you im sorry if this doesn't make sense😭

Batfamily x male reader

Batfamily x male reader who likes to cuddle

Batfamily x male reader

Reader is a magic user (like the scarlet witch), he often uses his powers during his normal day to day life too He’s constantly found levitating off the ground while meditating, reading his spell book and using his powers to do simple things like making his bed etc However his powers has a side effect, his powers hurt him sometimes as every time his emotionally unstable or upset his powers can take over but the rest of the family doesn’t know cause he never told them he simply cuddled up to them One day after a bad argument the pain was too much to hold in and he desperately needed to let go of his powers to get rid of the energy However he couldn’t do that cause it could damage the manor and hurt the others so he tries to hold it in trying to deal with the pain He walked into the manor and looked for the first person he could find and simply hugged them They knew his love language was physical affection but they never knew it went so far as to stop him from having a magical melt down He tries to explained the issue to whoever he was holding on too and they started praising him and rubbing his back trying to make him calm down till they get to an open space where he can let go

Batfamily x male!reader

Hello can you please do more baby or toddler reader x batfamily if you can😭i just love them

Batfamily x male!reader

Hiiii! I was wondering if u could so a batfam x deaf male reader? Where everyone in the family knows sign language and all that. But during one of Bruce's galas the reader gets kidnapped and no one's knows until Damian notices that his younger brothers not there anymore? U can decide how u wanna finish it and its completely if Ur not comfortable writing it. Also I love Ur writing 😙 - requested by @loverrrgirlll45

Batfamily x male reader

Yo, could you make m!reader who’s the son of Bruce and Selina and him meeting the Batfamily? He’s like Damian’s age if not a year younger

#dc x male reader #dc comics #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #batman x male reader #jason todd x male reader #red hood x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #nightwing x male reader #tim drake x male reader #red robin x male reader #damian wayne x male reader #robin x male reader

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makethatelevenrings · 2 years ago

Text

Skeletons in the Closet // D. Grayson x gn!reader

Requested? Yep!

Warnings: reader is followed home at night!!! if anyone ever follows you home, you have my consent to beat the everloving shit out of them!!!! your life is far more valuable to a fucking creeps!!!

Summary: While being followed home after work, you get a call from your boyfriend. He sends in some help from a friend. Things are realized.

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck fuck.

With your keys clutched tightly between your thumb and palm and your pepper spray poking out from your grip, you hurried down the street with your heart racing faster each step. Another glance over your shoulder confirmed it. You were being followed.

You had to stay late at work because two of your coworkers had the flu and this was the punishment you got for trying to be nice. Fuck this. Fuck capitalism. Fuck the world and having to be scared walking to your fucking apartment.

And just your luck, the red line stop near your apartment was closed for repairs to the platform structure so that meant you had to walk an extra four blocks to get home. Fuck.

Your phone buzzed in your hand and you nearly jumped out of your skin at the sudden jolt to your system. With shaking hands you swiped your thumb across the screen and pressed it against your cheek as you kept walking.

“Hello?” You really hoped that the person on the other line couldn’t hear the pure, visceral fear in your voice but you doubted it.

“Hey. I was just calling because you never texted that you left work or got home.” Oh. Right. Your boyfriend of three months, Dick Grayson, was a perfect gentleman and he always appreciated a text from you when you got home at night, whether it was from work or a night out with friends. He didn’t care if you were out late partying. He just wanted to make sure you were home safe at the end of the night.

“Right, shit. Sorry. I just got out of work a half hour ago and…” You glanced back at the guy following you and dropped your voice. “Someone’s following me. I’m about ten minutes max away from my apartment and I’ve got pepper spray, but you should know that I-”

“Where are you?” His voice had grown frigid in the time you were rambling and you peered up at the street sign you just passed.

“Avalon and Fifth.”

Dick inhaled deeply and then said something away from the phone, as though he was talking to someone in the background. He moved back closer to the phone and started talking quickly.

“Okay, baby, here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to put my friend on the line and she’s going to keep talking to you, okay? And in the meantime, I have another friend in the area and he’s going to come meet you. Keep walking towards your place. Don’t stop moving. Barbara will talk you through it.”

The line clicked before you could say anything and then a calm, pleasant voice filled your ear. “Hi, I’m Barbara. Dick’s told me a lot about you. Did you know he’s kind of obsessed with you?”

The sudden levity of the question elicited a laugh from you as you hurried down the darkened street. You could hear the footsteps getting closer and it made your throat close with anxiety.

“Hey Barbara, what’s going to happen?” you asked quietly.

“Don’t you worry about that. Just keep walking. You’re doing fine. Why did you stay late at work?”

“My coworkers are sick. Flu season and all that.”

“Hmmm, viruses are a bitch.” There was something in her voice that indicated more to her comment than you knew, but you didn’t have time to pry. The closer you got to an ally, the faster the steps sounded until the guy was full on sprinting towards you.

“Fuck,” you gasped as you turned to watch him barrel at you. Before he could get within three feet of you, a blur of black and blue swung down from seemingly nowhere and then Nightwing was standing over him, escrima sticks clutched tightly in his hands.

“Go,” the vigilante barked. He looked back at you and what a sight you probably made. Shaking, phone pressed to cheek and other hand gripping keys and pepper spray, and what felt like tears streaming down your cheeks, you stared back at the mask covered eyes. His chin dipped and you realized that he was inspecting you for some kind of injury. Nightwing raised his head to stare at you once more and then he jutted his chin out towards you in a silent command. The silvery white scar on his lower jar stood out under the light of the street lamps.

“Go,” he repeated. The man below him tried to sit up and the vigilante snapped one of his bludgeons down onto the man’s arm with a sickening crack, eliciting a scream from the man. You almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

You didn’t need another prompting and instead you turned, tucked tail, and sprinted the rest of the way home. You nearly forgot that Barbara was on the other end of the phone until you heard her call your name.

“I’m…I’m okay. I think. I…I’m okay.” Your hands shook so hard as you tried to unlock the door to your apartment that your dropped your keys and cursed under your breath. Scooping them up once more, you tried again and flew into your apartment.

“I’m home. Door’s locked. I’m fine. I…fucking hell. What just happened?”

“Hey, hey,” Barbara said. “Breathe with me, okay? That was a scary situation. Breathe. In two, out three. There we go.”

The fragments and pieces of your scattered brain started to knit an image together of what just happened. As the adrenaline receded, you were able to try and come to terms with the events of that night and one thing stood out to you.

The scar on his chin.

Nightwing’s.

The same scar that you pressed a kiss to in thanks for coffee. The same scar you made sure to pepper with kisses when your boyfriend curled around you and fell asleep against your chest. The same scar that you looked up at when he pulled sweet moans out of your lungs.

“I’m going to kill him,” you hissed.

Barbara barked out a laugh. “Please make sure to film it for me.”

“Oh, I will.” You tossed your keys and pepper spray onto the table just as a shadow passed over the window of your living room. “It’s been nice meeting you, Barbara, but I have to go strangle someone.”

“I’m going to put your number in my phone and we will be getting coffee soon.” You gave her a final goodbye and then stalked towards the window. Your phone tumbled onto the plush cushions of the couch as you passed. Yanking open the window, you stuck your head out and glared at the vigilante standing on the far end of your fire escape.

“So this is why you always make an excuse to not stay the night,” you snapped. Anxiety had turned to rage real quick. Nightwing grimaced and raised his gloved hand to run his fingers through his hair. It was then that you saw the fresh blood that mottled his knuckles and you knew exactly where it came from.

“And also why I make sure you get home at night,” he added quietly. You crooked your finger at him and he complied wordlessly. His footsteps were nearly silent on the old fire escape and you took a moment to marvel at how such a muscular man was able to move so quickly and quietly.

“Is this it? Any more skeletons in your closet?” you asked.

“You know about my family, so no. No more skeletons.”

“I’m going to ask Barbara when we go and get coffee,” you breathed against his lips. Dick paled slightly before he cleared his throat.

“That’s fair.”

“Now get in here and get that suit off. I’m still mad at you but I could really do with a hug right now.”

He didn’t protest.

Tag List: @someoneimsure @perpetual-fangirl900 @visagebrise @cursedandromedablack @alexxavicry @the-wayward-daughter @raging-trash-of-mind @bunny-kawa @khaylin27

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #richard grayson x reader #richard grayson imagine #nightwing x reader #nightwing imagine

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siddyyyyyyyy · 1 month ago

Note

Hi! Just learned about you blog and whatnot and had a request. Jason Todd x Reader where Reader has been kidnapped? Maybe by Joker or Black Mask or someone else from his past?

Safe Again

Jason Todd x Raeder

wc: 1.9 K summary: Jason saves you from being captured from Black Mask warnings: kidnapping, injuries, standard Gotham violence, blood a/n: SUCH A COOL REQUEST!!11!!!1!!1 thank you for the request, it was so much fun writing about it

You feel your head pounding aggressively, making it hard for your eyes to focus on anything in the small room. It‘s cold and weird, you can‘t really remember how you got here. The sounds of chains being dragged on a cement floor made your breath hitch, finally starting to feel the aches in your limbs. You must‘ve been hurt badly in several places, especially in your knees for some reason.

»Awake?« A deep rumbling comes from the gates, looking up from the already bloodied floor. The smell just makes you sick, already feeling worse than you already are.

»Don‘t worry, he‘ll be here in a while. But not to come and save you,« what seems to be Black Mask circles your chair, hands behind his back, »but to fall into my trap. You‘re just a distraction, sweet girl. He should have known better than to fall in love. How foolish.«

You can‘t exactly focus on his words, fighting against the dizziness. The room feels incredibly cold but you are sure it isn‘t really that chilly. First, your legs start to tremble before it builds up from there, becoming a shivering mess.

»Oh, poor thing. Scared? Don‘t you worry.«

He stands in front of you, some bigger figures standing in the back and possibly watching.

»It‘s just for a little longer.« A creepy face comes in your view, never having seen him up close or in person before. The mask brings another wave of danger into your brain, holding in your breath. Your body is all tense but you can‘t stay still, trembling everywhere.

Finally, the room spins and you process his words. Before you fall into unconsciousness you realise… Jason will die when he gets here.

He should have seen it coming. All the terror attacks on innocent civilians before, now getting to his loved one. Bruce and Dick told him he should keep a clear head and not blame himself, but he can‘t afford listening to them when he knows that it‘s all his fault.

It seems like too much, he can‘t catch a break. He won‘t allow himself to do so. Once he got into the abandoned warehouse, he can hear the distinct sounds of voices. Jason stays stealthy on his feet and keeps Oracle and the rest updated as best as he can. Through all the thoughts racing in his head, he can only focus on one thing. Getting you to safety and killing Black Mask. He had enough of his antics.

»Stay low, we are guarding from outside. Three guards approaching the entrance.« Nightwing calls into the communications, alerting Red Hood of any activity.

The three guards walk in, oblivious to the vigilante watching them in a vent from above. Once they are close enough, he jumps out of it and attacks them violently, but quietly. The three men are down in a matter of few seconds, Red Hood updating Nightwing afterwards.

He lets the guards rest on the floor and makes his way down the hallway, following the distinct chatter. A few sounds of metal clanking together are heard, which only makes Jason‘s blood run colder than before. He doesn‘t want to imagine what they‘d done to you already or what they are about to do. Either way, they won‘t get to have you for any longer.

»Red, be careful. If they see you, this will bow up.«

»I know.« Jason almost interrupts Oracle. He doesn‘t know why he decided to tell them in the first place. Of course, he needs their help because he can‘t risk fighting against Black Mask on his own. He can‘t risk dying for you. He has made a promise to you, that he will be more careful in the future. But clearly, he wasn‘t careful enough. Getting you captured was something he thought was possible but he didn‘t think it would happen. Now, being so close to just snatching you away and killing everyone who blocks his path, he couldn‘t just leave and wait for the rest to be ready.

Making sure he won‘t get into the view of the enemy, he catches a peek at you in the cell. His breath hitches. Fists clenching. All the sounds are drowning out from around him, but he has to keep himself together.

Eventually, he manages to pull himself out of his thoughts and hides.

»I‘m in my spot, where‘s the rest?«

Jason speaks almost speaks in panic into the comms, trying to calm himself down one last time.

»We are ready. Waiting for Oracle‘s signal.«

Batman answers back almost immediately.

Jason‘s never been this impatient before, but he knows he can‘t afford being sloppy. This is your life being at risk. No one knows what Black Mask‘s actual motive is, but he is sure he wants revenge for Red Hood‘s earlier mistakes and actions. A typical man who still lives in the past and can‘t move past mistakes or memories. So he has to take it out on others.

Once Oracle announces that they can launch their attack, no one wastes their time on doing so. Batman and Nightwing are storming in from the outside while Jason focuses on securing the area and getting Black Mask. They locate you in a dingy cell, bloodied and unconscious. Chains around your wrists and tied to the chair. It‘s a stark contrast from how you usually are. Soft, kind, the total opposite of Jason. But now is not a time to grieve or get distracted.

With quick hands, Nightwing secures you while Batman joins Red Hood on getting Black Mask. He finds him beating up the bad guy. Hovering over Black Mask, the punches only getting more powerful and deadly. Batman gets to his side and tears him away, afraid he will kill him out of pure rage.

»Stop! We need to find out what happened and why.« Bruce tries to get some sense into him, only with a little success. He manages to get him to stop punching, but not from going mad. His head is a complete mess. You can see it from the way his breathing is ragged and body trembles with fury.

»Can you stand?« A familiar voice rings through your senses as you‘re slowly awaking, the loud sounds from outside the cell bringing you back to earth. You shake your head in response, the dull ache in your knees becoming worse in waves.

Even when you can‘t properly respond, Nightwing knows what to do. One thing he promised his brother is to keep you safe. And he won‘t let anything hurt you now, not when his brother is in such a bad state.

He picks you up swiftly and gets a safe route from Oracle, getting outside before you know it. You keep fighting your consciouness. Constantly dizzy and in pain. It‘s hard to tell wether you‘ll stay awake or faint again, but Nightwing gets you quickly to the clocktower and sets you down onto a soft surface.

Damian is already there, ready to assess any damage taken on you, thanks to his medical skills. Your eyes have difficulty focusing again, but you can feel everything around you. At least you can feel how bad your legs and head are hurting.

Turns out you have deep bruises around your knees, most likely for the case you'll try to escape the cell. It wouldn‘t even be possible, considering the heavy chains that were keeping you seated on the chair.

As if that wasn‘t enough, Damian realises you got a pretty serious concussion as well. That explains your constant dizziness and sluggish state. It‘s almost impossible to talk to you, only getting a few random words from you before you fall back into unconsciousness.

Oracle keeps the two other men in the warehouse updated, telling them you are in a stable condition and that the area they‘re in seems to be empty. It‘s strange, Batman knows something is wrong. It shouldn‘t be empty. Black Mask shouldn‘t be so weak at the moment, he would at least fight back or start some monologue that‘s suppposed to upset them and get under their skin. But no, none of that is happening right now.

Jason is still not in the right headspace, mind clouded with pure rage and fury. But luckily, Batman notices someting strange in the Mask of the enemy.

»Wait,« He crouches down in front of him and gently takes the mask off of the villian, »this is a decoy.«

They managed to get you into a peaceful nap while Oracle is busy controlling the situation and getting Batman and Red Hood out of the building as fast as possible. The moment they found out that Black Mask was actually some goon working for him, Oracle also found out about a bomb located inside the building. Now it was only a matter of time when it will explode and the clocktower is filled with heavy tension.

Waking up was probably the hardest part. Every of your limbs feel heavy and numb, peeling you eyelids open. You are still in the clocktower, knees bandaged up and clearly still under some heavy meds. The sun is just rising outside, it being quiet besides the light ringing in your ears. It‘s a moment later you realise the hand in yours, recognising it shortly after. The comforting weight and warmth rests in your palm, making you look down at it.

The couch you are laying on feels way better now after that rough cell, shifting lightly to adjust on it. Even with the light movements, Jason stirs awake by your side and tightens his grip on your hand.

»Sweetheart?«

»What happened?«

You ask back, fosucing on the several bruises littered across his face and dried blood on on his suit, his hands still gentle but rougher.

He sighs out and doesn‘t respond yet, carefully hugging you as he kneels next to the couch, his arms enveloping you safely.

»Black Mask captured you. We got you now. Batman is making sure he doesn't escape.« He whispers back after a moment while he keeps you in his arms. It feels safe again. You can‘t really remember what exactly happened in there, but you are more than grateful that everyone seems to be safe.

He doesn‘t talk much about what happened as well, just savouring the moment of being safe. Once you got into a safe house, he made sure to take care of you as best as he could. A warm bath, patching up your knees and some cuts across you body again. Being as careful as possible, he lets you rest on the bed as he cooks something up in the kitchen.

Somehow, it still feels a little strange. Not able to move your legs much is something you‘ve started to hate only a few moments later.

But at least there‘s always an excuse to be carried around by Jason. He walks in with two plates of steaming soup, setting one of them down onto your lap with a spoon. A small TV plays a random soap opera in front of the bed as you both start to eat together. It‘s warm and filling, having missed his cooking skills and presence.

You end up craddled in his arms as he reads you from some book he still had in the safe house, falling asleep to the familiar lull of his voice. The sleep you get is peaceful and full of rest, getting the perfect amount of rest and comfort in his arms. He also rests plenty, although he mostly looks over you during the night.

←MASTERLIST

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fictionalmenxyn · 25 days ago

Note

Can we get a Nightwing or Red Hood taking care of a sick yn if it hasn't been done before

Of course I can!! Imma do both in one if that’s ok! If you want them separate let me know and I can do that too!!

☞︎𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮☜︎

Pairings: nightwing x reader x red hood

Warnings: language

꥟꥟꥟

It’s been a long night. The day was slow, you felt unwell. You could feel the oncoming flu since this morning. But only when you were on patrol did it hit you like a brick wall. So much that Jason said “who the fuck keeps sniffing into their ear piece?!?” You tried to laugh it off saying it was Dick. But it was 100% you. You just didn’t want to tell the guys. Cause they’d go protective mode on you.

But it was after you all showered that they realised you were coming down with the flu.

So that’s how you ended up here. Wearing Jason’s t-shirt and Dick’s boxers. Laying in bed with Jason laying next to you. He held you closely. Not caring if he got sick, he rarely did. I mean since his ‘accident’ he never got sick. So he had Dick go and make you some warm food. Considering for some reason you had the opposite of a fever. Well you had one, but you were extremely cold. Hot at the touch, but you felt cold.

Jason has the remote on his one muscular thigh. The other held your legs on top. His one arm around your waist as the other hand caresses your thighs. He had put on the show you had been binging recently. But due to patrolling, you keep up with it as much.

Dick soon returned “how you feeling now, love?” You nodded “I’m okay, still feeling cold…” Jason pressed the back of his hand to your forehead “still feeling hot to me, baby…” you nodded “I know… I’m just having the chills…” he nodded and pulled you closer.

Dick holds out a hot water bottle for you “I’m not sure if this will help… but I did it cause I know you like it when you’re sick..” you smiled softly “thank you, Dee…” he kissed your temple and headed back out the room and downstairs to the kitchen.

Jason rested his cheek to the top of your head. “You know, you could’ve told us before patrol… Dick would’ve stayed here with you…” you hummed “I know… but I didn’t want you patrolling alone and also I was fine all day… it was like my luck ran out when I started patrolling…” Jason chuckled softly yet deeply.

As you ate your chicken and noodles, one of your favourites that Dick would make cause he’s really good at the dish. Due to Alfred’s handy knowledge.

Jason rubbed the side of your arm as Dick played with a few strands of your hair. You all in the large bed of your sheared bedroom. You practically squished in the middle of the two huge men. You smiled softly. Considering you three are crime fighting people who help civilians at night. You felt normal, like an everyday person who doesn’t stay up till ungodly hours fighting people.

After you were done with your food. You placed the fork into the bowl. Jason picked the plate up and left to go put it in the dishwasher.

Dick pulled you into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you. He mumbled into your hair “how’s the princess feelin’?” You sighed “like shit… but better now you two are takin’ care of me..” he smiled softly “you’re welcome, sweetheart.”

Jason returned. He laid back in bed with you two. He rubbed your back as you laid on top of Dick. Dick kept his lips pressed to your head as Jason moved closer to you both and continued to rub you back under the T-shirt. Jason pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

After some time, you felt tried. Jason and Dick noticed your half-lidded eyes. Jason saw you struggling to go to sleep. Something he often saw when you were sick. He reached over you both grabbing his book he was currently reading. He opened the page. Resting his head on your back as his mouth was close to your ear. He knew you loved when he read aloud. Both of their voices were attentive, but Jason when he would read??? Would make you melt on the spot. A guy who’s buff, crime fighter, badass and an overall hunk… who READS?!? Hot… very… very hot…

So as he read, Dick would occasionally kiss your temple and rub your side. Dick then reached over and grabbed an eye mask he’d use when it would be too light in the summer time. He gently pulled it over your eyes. Stroking your hair as Jason read to you.

Jason smirked softly when he heard your breathing. A thing he learnt when you were awake and asleep. The difference in your breathing. He did it, not purposefully. But when he’d have nightmares or he’d get anxious out of nowhere. He’d always liked listening to your breathing. So he could regulate his. So he naturally learnt the difference of your breathing. Jason whispered to Dick “she’s out..” Dick nodded. Gently moving you to the middle of the bed. Dick wrapped his arms around your shoulders as Jason wrapped his arms around your waist.

All of you calling it in for the night. The guys loved you dearly, so they were on full guard when you were sick. As you did for them. And you definitely did when Dick was the next one to fall sick after being close to you. Then Jason was the ‘part time nanny’ since he doesn’t get sick.

And best believe he got you both to make up for the fact he did everything for you both. He wasn’t leaving this empty handed. No chance. He loves you. But you owe him.

꥟꥟꥟

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batsycline69 · 3 months ago

Text

Chapter Four: Darker Than Death

Summary: Jason chases the past and sets fire to the future

Pairing: Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Words: 6,274

Content/warnings: angst, descriptions of injuries, Jason's self-destructive tendencies

SERIES MASTERPOST | PREV

Four months pass like lightning streaking the sky. Suddenly, you’re a staple in Jason’s life.

Soft kisses on biceps in the middle of the night. Mornings spent eating breakfast over your small kitchen table. Lunches in his station at the shop. The scowl on your face when Jason pulls out a dictionary to prove the word he played in Scrabble is real.

He didn’t think he could be happy again. After everything—the things he’d seen; the things he’d felt—it didn’t seem possible.

You gave him back something he thought he’d lost forever. You’re hope and future. Something to fuck up. Something to lose.

Jason knows what he looks like to the people on the street. It’s hard not to when he’s jarred by himself in the mirror sometimes. A big, brooding mass of man when once he was just a boy. He didn’t get a say in his dip in the Lazarus Pit, but the skin is still his own, adorned with in he chose and scars that he earned.

But no amount of ink nor callous nor scowling can actually protect him from the wounds that still have never healed. His never ending anger got the better of him today. A close call with Batman and Nightwing left him feeling bolder than ever. He went to visit the Joker.

Beating the Joker bloody with a crowbar didn’t have the cathartic impact he’d been hoping it would. The sight just made his stomach churn. He buried the flurry inside of him as he tied the Joker up, leaving him to sit in a closet for a few days. Until it’s time to bring him into play.

The rising sickness, cold and burning all at once, doesn’t go away. Distance doesn’t help. He still feels trapped there even when he’d been the one in control.

He doesn’t remember going to his apartment and changing. When he comes back to himself at your doorstep, he isn’t Red Hood. Just a boy in a soaked t-shirt shivering in the rain.

The door to your apartment building is inches away from his face. His hand is on the doorknob. It’s locked; he realizes now that’s what pulled him out of his head.

Rain falls down around him. It lands heavily on the shoulders of his jacket. The sound hammers on rooftops, onto the rusted cars parked out in front of your building. It splashes on the already soaked sidewalk, rushing into the sewers Jason knew so well. It’s always fucking raining. He would hate this city if he didn’t love it so much. If this city wasn’t in his blood just as much as Sheila’s.

Tears slick his face. That feeling in his stomach is still there, and he feels like he’s buried beneath earth all over again. The world is pressing down against him. He can hardly breathe.

His feet carry him to the back door of the building. The memory of picking the lock open is shoved into a corner at the very back of his mind. Safe memories fail to see the light of day now, yet he seeks safety just by being here. He needs you, though he hasn’t yet fully put it together yet.

Jason fiddles with the lock with less grace than usual. His hands tremble as he works, but even filled with tears, he’s focused. Maybe a little more so than necessary. He’s overly aware of the weight of his gun. Just as aware as he is he shouldn’t have brought it here. His mind is such a mess. What if he hurt you?

Part of him itches to turn back. The laughter echoing in his ears pushes him forward.

The wood floors creak beneath his feet as he moves through the otherwise silent halls. He pauses in front of your door. His nails bite into the palm of his fisted hands, trying to find the bravery to knock.

Bravery.

Once upon a time ago, he ran across the rooftops of this city fighting goons twice his size, reassured by his mentor, a less than perfect man who demanded perfection. He thought his bravery made him untouchable.

So much for that.

He knocks. You don’t answer.

It’s 3 AM; of course you’re going to be asleep.

He should have never come here. He hasn’t even thought about what he would say when you ask why he’s such a wreck. Just like anything real in his life, it’s not like he can tell you the truth. You wouldn’t know what to do with the truth; he kidnapped the guy who killed him back when he was just a little robin. His mind feels too syrupy to come up with a good lie.

He realizes with sudden clarity he never should have gotten this close to you. Sure, he’s been planning his takeover of Gotham’s underground for years, but plans go sideways. What if the Joker gets out and finds out a connection between Red Hood and you? He can’t even stomach the thought of you with a single scratch on you, let alone in the sort of condition Joker would leave you in.

The lock clicks on your door.

Undoubtedly, you’d spotted him through your peephole standing there. When the door opens, your tired eyes are swimming with concern.

“Jason? Is everything okay?” Your voice is thick with sleep as you blink him into focus.

He feels terrible. He wants to say he’s drunk. Tell you he wasn’t thinking. Free you of his bullshit. Instead, he sniffles pathetically.

The door creaks softly as you hold it open more. You’re a lifeline for him now, the one thing that’s keeping him from sinking back into that bottomless grave, and he pulls you against him. His grip is tighter than it probably should be, but if you have a problem with it, you don’t say.

You hold him like something precious.

He hates himself.

“Come on. Come inside.” Your voice is soft as you gently usher him in. “You’re soaked.”

Streetlight from outside diffuses through the raindrops on your window. It’s the only light offered in your darkened apartment.

He stands in the doorway of your bedroom, watching you rummage around the clothes piled on top of the old floral wingback chair in the corner. You pull out one of Jason’s t-shirts, the material washed and worn until the fabric was soft.

Cotton clings to his skin as he peels his shirt off.

He hears a soft gasp as his vision is obscured.

“What happened to you?” you ask, horror cutting through your exhaustion like a knife.

Bruises—fresh ones—scatter across his skin. He hasn’t seen them yet, but he feels them there. Normally, he’s pretty good. Keeping his clothes on when he knows there’s damning evidence. The less he has to explain, the fewer lies he has to keep track of. Tonight isn’t a normal night. His head is barely on straight.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, trying to keep his voice even. He tugs the shirt down, obscuring whatever injuries you see.

“What do you mean, don’t worry about it? Did someone hurt you?”

God, you’re so sweet. You care about him, and you really shouldn’t. Right now, there’s a fire in your voice; you’d go up to bat for him against anyone. All the more reason to keep you out of the line of fire.

“It’s nothing,” he snaps.

“The hell it is. Jason, what is going on?” Your voice is demanding as you take another step closer. Your reach out to touch him, but you stop as if you would hurt him. You are afraid to hurt him.

He huffs and goes out to your living room, his large frame hunching in on itself as he falls into your couch. His head hangs for a minute before he looks around. He’s always found your apartment peaceful. Blankets tossed over the arm of your threadbare secondhand couch. Bookshelves stuffed with crumbling paperbacks. Feels more like a home than his place ever has, but it’s still no home of his.

“There’s a lot I haven’t told you,” he sniffles.

You follow him out, pausing a few feet away from him. “We don’t have to cover everything tonight.”

The certainty in your voice is too brilliant, too forgiving; some things feel like they can never be spoken about. Should never be allowed to see the light of day.

“I dug up a lot of past today.”

He hopes you never understand him because that means you understand how it feels to die. What it means to come back from that. And what worse fate could he curse someone to? He never wants that cold to find you in the middle of the night and shock you awake just to confirm your heart is still beating.

“What do you need?”

The couch dips as you sit beside him. His arm winds over your shoulders, pulling you to his chest so he can feel the rise and fall of your chest as you breathe. “Just this,” he says.

So you stay that way. He cries, and he thinks about how he shouldn’t be doing this to you. He feels better because you’re here. No matter how hard he tries not to, he can’t stop thinking about how fucked up it is that he gets to feel better while making everything worse for you. He’s going to ruin your life, and he hasn’t even given you the opportunity to know that.

A few more minutes pass. Your apartment is silent apart from his sniffles, but those, too, die down eventually. Just the rain remains, pattering against the glass.

“Shouldn’t have woken you up,” he says when he’s finally composed himself. There’s a resolution in his voice that had been lacking before. He hopes you don’t ask how he managed to make it to your door.

You shake of your head pull away from him to look into his eyes. “Don’t say that. You didn’t want to be alone. That’s a good enough reason to wake me up.” Your voice is just as firm.

Doubt crosses Jason’s face. You wouldn’t be saying any of this if he wasn’t selfishly withholding the truth from you. You’d already met Red Hood, and you didn’t want him inside of your apartment. He shouldn’t be here, and he knows it. He has no right to wake you up when you’re safe and asleep in your bed. He doesn’t deserve to seek your comfort just because he can’t face his ghosts.

Your palms are warm as you gently hold his face. The pad of your thumb wipes off his tears. “I care about you,” you say. “You aren’t burdening me by letting me help you.”

For one single second, it crosses his mind to open up. You’d think he would have totally lost it, but he could open up. At this point, it almost feels as if it doesn’t matter; he’s decided this won’t be able to last.

Even now, you know very little about him. Neither of you have put a label on what you have, but there’s a bind between of you. You’ve become a feature in his life, as often as he can allow such a thing. He’s gotten comfortable with your presence, and comfort can always be taken away from him. There’s benefit in staying unattached.

He laughs bitterly. “I don’t wanting you biting off more than you can chew, sweetheart,” he says. His thick fingers wrap around your wrist, keeping your hand against his cheek.

Your lips quirk up into a weak smile, but your visible concern doesn’t wane. “I’m pretty tough,” you reply.

Jason turns his head and presses his lips into the palm of your hand. “I know you are.”

But tough isn’t always enough against the people who come after him. Not even when you sign up for it. And you sure as shit didn’t sign up for this.

Most days, you make him feel like he’s soaring. When he takes you out on the bike—Gotham blurring around both of you as your chest presses into his back—he sometimes feels like he’s too giddy to drive.

That feeling, he thinks it’s love, but he can’t accept that. He’s been telling himself he doesn’t need love. He doesn’t need family. But he can’t convince himself he doesn’t need you right now.

One day, Batman is going to catch up to Red Hood. Jason is planning on as much. But if that plan somehow backfires, he could lead Batman right to you. He can’t curse you to a fate where your path intersects with Bruce Wayne. Jason doesn’t want your life any more tainted than he’s already made it.

He can handle losing you if he’s the one that calls it quits. He can handle losing you if you hate him over whatever lies he has to tell to make you slam the door in his face. But he can’t handle losing you over the truth, especially if it’s Bruce’s version of the truth. The very idea of you siding with Bruce in all of this makes his skin crawl.

“I care about you, too, you know,” he finally says. He looks at you in your pajamas, the softness of sleep still etched onto your features. His voice feels to gruff to be speaking to you. He takes your hand between both of his, lowering it down into his lap. He doesn’t want you to hear the finality in his voice.

You smile, though your face is sad. “I know.”

“Why’re you so nice to me?” he asks. You were supposed to just be some client. He was supposed to tattoo a dead bird onto your arm and say goodbye. He did everything right; he was a detached asshole. And yet, something about you broke him open, like playing the right notes on the piano to get into the Batcave.

Like a soft breeze, your laugh brushes across his lips. You’re close to him now.

“Didn’t we just establish that?” you ask, looking up at him with an even softer expression than before.

“I’m serious,” Jason says. “Why did you even bother giving me a chance?”

What makes me worth saving?

There’s a beat of silence. Your eyes study his. He doesn’t doubt you can see the tears still lingering, threatening to spill at the first kind thing you have to say to him.

“I mean, you were a dick for a little bit, but I could tell you felt bad about it.” You look him over carefully, your lips still tugged into that meager smile. “I don’t think you’re as bad as you think you are.”

He sighs and hangs his head. His grip on your hands loosens, like he’s offering you freedom. “You’re giving me too much credit,” he says. His voice rumbles up from his chest. He has to speak quietly or else he’d be yelling. All he can imagine is the Joker getting his hands on you. The thought alone makes him feel so sick he can’t stand to look at you.

As hard as he tries to stay with the kindness in your eyes, his mind starts to wander.

The floor had been so cold; he remembers it now. He acts like he’s not afraid of dying—maybe he isn’t—but he remembers how it feels to die. He remembers how dark it is. How bitter. Laughter rings in his ears. Blood in his mouth, bile stinging at his throat. There was nothing peaceful about it. Nothing peaceful about choking on his own blood. There was no ‘slipping off’; there was only a flash, the rush of heat, a deafening blast, and the screams of the mother who had sold him out.

“Why would I stick around this long if you weren’t worth it?” you ask.

“It doesn’t count when you’re used to fucked up relationships.” He breathes a bitter laugh like it doesn’t feel like acid. Like it’s effortless to put you down. If you believe it is, maybe you’ll ask him to leave.

He’s good at this, sabotaging relationships. Even though he thinks the world of you, he can summon up the words to make you question everything about the last four months. Doesn’t matter if Jason admires how much cruelty you’ve faced. Doesn’t matter if he finds wonder by the fact you still somehow stayed kind after that. He knows just what to say to plant a seed of doubt that will only continue to fester from here.

There’s a long silence. You’re not looking at him anymore. He wants to take it back, but he knows he can’t. That’s why he said it.

“Why are you trying to push me away right now?” Your voice is soft. He can barely hear it over the rain beating on the pane of glass behind you.

“I’m not pushing you away. That’s just the truth.”

“That’s bullshit,” you say. Your voice is low, but volume does nothing to lessen the severity of the chill. He’s used to your warmth. “You’re not that much of an asshole.”

The deeper he sinks into this character, the more he wants to to run out of the room. He’s ruining the one good thing he’s had since he came back to Gotham. He’s throwing away his one actual shot at happiness.

When he looks at you, he’s looking at a future he’ll never know. Baking cookies just because you mentioned in passing you wanted some. Slipping apology notes underneath your door when he pisses you off so much you won’t respond to his texts. Telling you he loves you; whispering it in your ear when he holds you on bad days. Telling the truth because he could finally fully surrender himself to you.

The truth, Jason likes to imagine, feels like the gentle release everyone likes to describe death as. Peace. A boy blown up isn’t at peace; he’s a poltergeist. But a man who can surrender and accept the death of a life he’d taken up, like a crab molting its shell to find something more comfortable, can rest. If he was brave enough, he could adapt again. Maybe make a life that offered a truce between him and this world.

“Ever consider maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do?” he asks. He buries the thoughts of your warm embrace. So many graves in his mind, all smelling of petrichor and freshly turned earth.

It rained the night he clawed up to the surface of Gotham. He doesn’t remember much about that night—doesn’t remember much before Talia got to him—but he remembers the smell. Dirt was everywhere, until suddenly, he smelled the rain. Drops fell into his parched mouth as he gasped for air.

His eyes squeeze shut, overly aware of the sheets hitting your window. Your silence doesn’t help.

“Please,” you scoff. “Do you think I just conveniently haven’t noticed you dodging topics the past four months? Just because I’m the only one who’s been open about my fucked up past doesn’t mean I’m the only one with it.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I know you’ve got more going on then you’re telling me. The fact that you have secrets isn’t a secret to me. You can have things you don’t want to talk about, but don’t show up at my doorstep looking for help and snap at me when I give it to you.”

Jason doesn’t want it to end. He wishes he was just a little bit more selfish so he could will himself to hold onto you. He wishes his path wasn’t paved with blood so he could guarantee your safety.

But he can hold onto you for one more night.

He lays his head down in his hand and sighs. “I’m sorry,” he says. It’s not a lie, but tomorrow he’ll tell you it was. His fingers tangle in his hair, and he finally looks up at you. You don’t look happy, that’s for sure, but you don’t hate him.

Tomorrow, he’s going to have to do this for real. Tonight, he just wants you.

Your eyes are fixed on him for a while before you respond. “Thank you for the apology,” you say. “You’re right. You can be a dick sometimes. But I think that shows you how intentionally I choose to be around you,” you say.

If you knew the truth, he imagines you poking fun at him for saying you were the one with fucked up relationships. You’d call him a hypocrite if he ever gave you the chance to.

“Let’s go to bed.” The words are clipped. You don’t look at him. “You’ve had a long day.”

“You’re gonna let me stay?” There’s hope in his voice when there shouldn’t be. You should turn him out, send him back into the rain; he deserves it more than the comfort of your bed.

You give him a look. “People usually say the worst stuff when they need someone the most,” you say. “Something you learn when you’re used to fucked up relationships.” You stand up and offer out your hand for him.

He follows as you lead him into your darkened bedroom. Sheets are rustled and tossed back. His stomach twists at the display of your rush to his aid. There’s so much more out in the world for you, even if he wants to sink into you until there’s no more him left.

Before you, he’d grown comfortable in harshness. The darkness didn’t feel unique because it was everything he had for years. And then there was you.

He’s going to know what life without you is like. But not getting to see you sat at your kitchen table, grinning at him sleepily over a cup of coffee in the morning is better than never seeing you again because someone got their filthy hands on you.

You guide him towards your bed. One last night to lie next to you and share your body heat.

Jason shrugs off his leather jacket. He misses the soft rustling of it hitting the floor; his eyes are fixed to the sight of your skin as you get into bed. The yellowish glow of city light slips in through a crack in your curtains.

The sheets rustle as you climb in. Jason still stands at the bedside for a minute more. You won’t look at him, and he’s glad. Goodbyes he’s not yet ready to say are written all over his face.

After a beat, your eyes do seek him out in the darkness. The sheets are pulled up to your chin, and Jason is trying to remember it all, even if he can tell you’re still upset.

The bed shifts with his weight as he lays down beside you. You face him. He doesn’t look away. He shifts a little closer, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulls you to his chest. If he were a better man, he would apologize right now. A real one. But if he means it too much, you’ll never believe him in the morning. He can’t afford to not be convincing.

Jason holds you. He presses his lips to the crown of your head and shuts his eyes. More than anything, he wishes he could enjoy this moment.

In another life, he wonders if maybe this is how things are all the time with you. He can hold you without worrying about what dangers he’s putting you in. Guilt might not gnaw at him. Jason curses him even if he doesn’t even exist because who else can he blame? Fuck that guy. Fuck his happiness.

You fall asleep in his arms. He feels like he’s taking advantage of your trust by even holding you right now, but he can’t will himself to let you go. He has hours left of this, and he can’t imagine wasting those moments by sleeping on the far side of the bed.

You have a strange dream, the kind that fades from memory the more you try to chase them.

In the shadows of what you remember, you see a red helmet, one like your dangerous friend wears. You found it laying on the ground in an alley. You searched out in the darkness for a face—his face—only to realize you were all alone, standing in a green mist.

Weeks had passed since your masked friend picked the lock to your apartment so you could get inside. Weeks since he’d sat on your fire escape only to never be seen again, but for some reason, he’s visited you in your dreams.

Your dream dissolves, but fresh worry blooms in your chest as you look at the empty spot on the other side of the bed where Jason had been only hours earlier. His words come back to you.

He was grieving something last night. Thinking of the loss in his voice leaves a chalky, bitter taste in your mouth. Instinctively, your hand smooths over the rumpled sheets where he’d been when you fell asleep. They’re cold.

Sunlight spills through the crack in your curtains. A rarity for Gotham. Last night’s downpour has been reduced to puddles in the dips of the sidewalk. You naively choose to believe that maybe this brand new morning has changed things. The finality in the air last night has been swept away like a shadow by the brightness of the day.

Even if it ends up hurting your feelings, you hold onto this hope like a wilting flower. It gets you out of bed.

The smell of something sweet fills the air as you poke your head out of your bedroom. Jason stands at your stove. His broad shoulders curl over a skillet, spatula in hand. Dark curls stick up in every direction. His t-shirt from last night is rumpled with fitful sleep. He looks up from the pan, his eyes straying on you as you approach.

“Smells good,” you say, stepping out.

“I made coffee,” he says, nudging his chin to the percolator on your counter top.

He carries his sleep deprivation well; you’ve heard about the sleepless nights he spent in Europe while he was traveling. You know some nights he stays up late with his friends you’ve never met. They’re a bad influence, he told you once. You asked him if he thought he was a good influence.

You kiss his shoulder as you walk by, your hand ghosting over his tattooed bicep. “Thank you, honey,” you say, still trying to get a handle on the situation. Still clinging to hope that this is a new day.

Except you see Jason tense out of the corner of your eye.

Instantaneously, your mouth goes dry. Today might be a new day, but nothing has changed. There’s still tension in the air. Jason’s mind is elsewhere, and wherever that is, you don’t seem entirely welcome.

Your body feels rigid as you try to pour your coffee, playing pretend like nothing’s wrong.

You like Jason; woozy, youthful joy swells in your chest when he holds you. He keeps you warm from all manner of coldness Gotham offers. Being around him is secure, safe in a way that goes just beyond the fact no one even gives you a second look when you’re next to him.

It feels like the day you met, but far worse. Because being pushed away some tattoo artist is one thing, but that’s not Jason anymore. He’s not just some guy who gave you a tattoo. You’ve spent more nights with him the past month than without him. He came to you sobbing last night because he needed someone, and you answered the call. So what changed?

Cup of coffee in hand, you sit at the small kitchen table pushed up against your wall. You watch him as he cooks; his mossy eyes are always decidedly fixed down.

Your finger traces along the deep divot in the table. Sunlight spills across the scarred wood; you can’t help but feel like you’re being mocked. Miraculous sunlight in Gotham at the moment where the light feels like it’s being sucked out of the room.

A few minutes later, Jason brings a plate of pancakes, a bowl of diced strawberries, and syrup to the table, setting them down in front of you. You’ve always believed Jason makes food in place of the things he’s never told you. You wonder what unspoken words your breakfast is supposed to represent.

“Looks great,” you say. Your forced cheerfulness sounds like exactly that, but Jason doesn’t make any indication that he noticed. He acknowledges you as he takes the seat on the opposite side of your table.

You stare at the plate in front of you, forcing yourself to eat even though your appetite has dissipated. It gives you something to do. Without a task, you’d just sit there, trying to figure out what went wrong.

There’s silence. Sunshine doesn’t fill the void the way Gotham’s rain does. The tension makes the pancakes less sweet. Or at least you imagine it would, but you haven’t actually tasted a single bite.

More than anything, you want to ask about last night.

Jason’s bloodshot eyes, the desperation with which he held you, is stuck to you in a way you don’t know you can brush away. Jason, who keeps himself so well guarded behind the walls he built up, was exposed last night. You saw something in him, something you’d never seen before, and wanted so badly to understand it.

You want to say something, but you don’t know how without maybe making things worse. Don’t want to dig up skeletons any more than he’s admitted he already has.

The truth is you do know so little about Jason’s past. Any number of things could have sent him to your door last night. You’d been so exhausted, you hadn’t even thought to question how he’d gotten inside. You content yourself to thinking he’d followed in after someone.

“I think we should call it,” Jason says. He doesn’t even look up from his untouched food.

You look up from your pancakes, red strawberry juice smeared all along your plate. “Call what?” you ask. You know exactly what he’s saying, but you’re hoping your willful ignorance will maybe somehow change his mind.

“This.”

This. The undefined thing going on between the two of you for the past four months. The thing that has made home feel like home again. Someone who gave a little more sense to the Gotham you’d once known so well that had been destroyed, uprooted, just when your life was.

You feel your jaw muscles tense, your teeth clenching together to try to lessen the emotional blow. It doesn’t work—you knew it wouldn’t—but you figured you would try. “Is this about last night?” you ask.

“No.” His response is quick. If your head wasn’t reeling, you would maybe pick up on how rushed it really was, but you don’t.

You’re silent, waiting for an explanation you know isn’t coming. So you do what you know to do; you grasp at straws, hoping maybe you can fix this. Hoping maybe there’s a problem you can solved that will keep Jason here.

“Okay, then what’s it about?” you ask.

The kitchen chair creaks as Jason leans back. His skin is golden with the light crossing over your table. You see the rosemary and lilies on his arm and think of his work permanently etched into your body.

You will carry a piece of him with you forever, no matter where either of you goes.

“It’s not about anything. This wasn’t supposed to be serious.”

“I deserve more than that.” The words are clipped and harsh. More than you really mean them to be, but you’re still trying to make sense of all of this.

Things had been good. Really good. You laughed with him and relished every time you heard his clandestine laughter in return. He comes over when you’ve had a rough day and are fed up from work. You’ve cried in front of him, and while you’re sure saying he was happy to do it is a stretch, he did it without complaint. There may not have been a label on what you have together, but Jason is right; you don’t feel casual.

You love him.

The realization crawls up your throat like bile, like you might say the words at the absolute wrong time and make everything worse.

“Fine.” He looks up at you, his face hardened in a way you don’t recognize. His eyes are hardened. Not guarded like when he wouldn’t talk to you during your first appointment; they’re cold. He’s never looked at you like that before. “I’m sick of this shit. The monotony. You don’t want to live the same goddamn day over and over again.”

You stiffen. Somewhere a few blocks away, a siren wails. His gaze doesn’t waver. You’ve never wished for him to look away so badly. Under his gaze, you feel trapped. Uneasiness creeps up your spine.

For some reason, your first date comes to mind. You think of Jason at the arcade machine, the way he’d held the plastic gun so steadily.

“So why’d you come here last night then?” You struggle to keep your voice steady, but now feels like the wrong time to show any weakness.

Once, you thought Jason looked at you like a prey animal. In the tattoo shop, when he first came out thirty-five minutes late,he stared you down like he was trying to making sure you weren’t going to run in the direction. But even then, he was studying you more than anything, a habit of his you’d grown to recognize.

This is something else entirely.

“Because I’m a lonely, fucked up guy. Is that what you want to here? The warmth of your bed was better than none at all.”

Anger and agony stir in your chest. Muscles taught, jaw hardened. You can’t even stand to look at him for a minute. “So, what? We’re just done? We’re broken up?”

“We’re not broken up because we were never together,” Jason snaps.

Another silence settles between the two of you, this one charged.

“I guess that makes things more simple,” you reply, your voice low. You feel your face burning. What had you been thinking? You knew from the start he was bad news. You’d known it, and you ignored every sign anyway.

Silence settles between the two of you again. Jason doesn’t look up at you, but you can’t tear your eyes away from him.

God, you should have seen this coming, and yet it still doesn’t make sense. Things were good. Things were working. Until they weren’t. Until you ended up here. Now you’re at a total loss for words.

“Alright,” you say when he doesn’t speak. “Well, thanks for breakfast.” There’s no point in hiding the bitterness in your voice. What do you have to lose, right? He wants nothing to do with you, and you’ve just wasted months of your life stupidly, childishly believing that this was something that could actually work.

Jason doesn’t move right away. His dark brows are knitted close, but it doesn’t quite look like anger. The scar running through the brow makes him look more severe. You can’t imagine what kind of harsh truths he’s withholding. But you can’t look away. You think about running your fingers through his hair. You think about tracing the ink on his skin. You think about how empty your lunchtime will feel now because you’re not going to be swinging by the shop, a bag of takeout in hand.

This whole time, you’d just been a phase to him. Just another passing name he would forget in a month when he meets someone new. Someone better. Someone less acquainted with fucked up relationships, maybe. The point being, they aren’t going to be you.

And why should it matter so much? What’s four months? You barely know each other, right? Besides all of the times he listened to you spill your guts and probably kept waiting anxiously for you to shut up. All the while, you had managed to convince yourself this was actually going to be anything. You were mortified.

“I think your jacket is still in the bedroom,” you add pointedly as he keeps staring at you. Hopefully he’ll get the hint because you don’t think you have it in you to actually tell him to leave.

He stands, the chair sliding against the wooden floors of your apartment. Silently, he walks to the other room. It takes a few minutes for him to come back out. You’re so busy trying to make sense of all of this, you don’t notice.

When he reemerges, jacket in hand, Jason lingers by the front door. His eyes are fixed to the floor before he finally looks up at you.

“Bye,” he says.

Not see you later because he won’t. He doesn’t plan to. He’s done with you.

His eyes linger on you. He looks sad; you’ve gone and made him feel guilty because you thought you had more of a place in your life than you really did.

“Bye,” you say back, your voice rough.

Not it’s been nice knowing you because you can’t bring yourself to say the words. Not I think meeting you changed my life because you don’t have the right to that claim.

Jason doesn’t look back as he closes the door behind him.

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