#who jon's most trusted was

[fromtheseventhhell]

The only good thing about TWOW not being out is that it lets me be delusional about Arya being the third head of the dragon 😁😚

[bananonbinary]

i like reading crossover fic but i know in my heart that exactly 0 of my faves would ever share all their information and resources with some plucky strangers and every single crossover would be about 10 seconds long before they just retreated to opposite sides of the room like an awkward school dance

[imaginarianisms]

1 day i will make a meta of sansa's dynamic with her metaphorical champions/suitors & how that correlates to the ashford theory (i.e sansa being betrothed to joffrey baratheon, then promised to willas tyrell, then being married to tyrion lannister, then being married to harry hardying then married to aegon vi targaryen & aurane velaryon but it is not this day. lmao. when i make that meta it'll be so over for y'all.

[morganmnemonic]

I can't stop thinking about the relationship between Jon and Helen as perhaps one of the most important ones in the entire show. They are narrative parallels for each other, and they both know it. They've both known it from the very start!

Helen walks into the Archives, paranoid, unsure of who to trust, and Jon sees himself in her. And he thinks "If i can help her, maybe there's hope for me too." Then he can't save her. The next time they meet, she's a monster. They're both monsters. There was never any other way their stories could have gone, their fates entwined from the very start.

And Helen answers his original thought with one of her own: "Maybe if we can help each other, there's hope for us both." But Jon looks at her and sees everything that he fears becoming, and so he turns her away, and refuses to accept that their stories are still one and the same.

Helen went to the last person who was ever kind to her, the only person who both knew her as a human and had the context to understand what she'd become, and he hated her. He hated her because he liked Helen, and told her that she couldn't be Helen.

So she stopped trying to be Helen, and embraced being a monster. Reveled in it even. Then Jon wakes up from a six month coma, more monster than person, and tries so hard to cling to the things that mattered to him when he was human. Even with no support, even with the entire archives staff against him, he chooses humanity and compassion over and over again.

And this is a direct threat to Helen's world view. Their stories are entwined. If Jon can continue to be a person even after everything he's been through, then she could have clung to her humanity too, if only she'd tried a little harder. And that terrifies her! She wants to conceptualize herself as someone who was completely overwhelmed by forces beyond her control, who never had a choice but to become a monster. She want's to be an innocent victim. But Jon argues with his actions that they'd both had choices.

And, Jon, in turn, holds out hope that she might make better choices until the very end.

This is the conflict between them for all of season 4 and 5. Jon wants to prove that they can both be decent people, and Helen wants to prove that they were never going to be anything but monsters. This is why she's so devoted to trying to goad Jon into enjoying his newfound godhood. She knows that they are the same, and wants that to mean that he has a spark of evil inside of him, and not that she was always capable of doing good.

When Jon kills her, she loses her life, but wins the argument. Helen is nothing but a dangerous monster who needs to be killed for the good of everyone, and in the moment he decides that, Jon dooms himself to the same fate. Their stories are one and the same. "If i can help her, maybe there's hope for me too." he thought. But he couldn't help her, refused to, even, in the one moment when it actually mattered. And thus, there was never hope for him.

[wonderjanga]

What do you do?

Bruce has literally no idea about Marvel’s personal life. As a result, the JL have no idea about his personal life. The only thing they know is that they want Marvel to have their jobs. Cause, Marvel already let them rants about whatever they’re passionate about. Once they find out his job, and if he’s maybe passionate about what they’re passionate about, they can yap together!

Supes: *ranting*

Marvel: *listening intently*

Supes: “And, you know, I’m a reporter-”

Marvel: *sounds surprised* Wait, you’re actually a reporter?”

Supes: “Uh… yeah? Did you think I wasn’t? You’ve heard me go on fifteen minute rants just about it.”

Marvel: *shrugs* “I just thought it was something you were really interested in. What company to do you work at?”

Supes: “The Daily Planet?”

Marvel: “Oh, I’ve heard about them!”

This went on to be an hour long conversation of them exchanging tips, talking about which companies can’t be trusted, which reporters are good versus bad, and so on. They probably would’ve gone on longer if some aliens hadn’t tried to invade earth for the millionth time. Even then, after the battle, they continued the conversation back at the Watchtower. Clark was honestly so happy about this entire thing because whenever he talked about reporting to Marvel, he would normally just nod along and ask questions. Instead, this time, the Cheese actually yapped with him instead of patiently listening. Clark was like 50 percent sure Marvel was a reporter now, and he was right. Technically. Billy was a reporter.

Meanwhile, Bruce is hypothesizing that Marvel is a teacher or caretaker of some kind because he’s really good with kids. Most of these kids are, for a lack of a better word, idiots. He is the only hero that’s interacted with them that hasn’t lost his temper yet. A good example of this was when Marvel was obviously having a bad day and Jon came to talk to him since Clark was busy.

Marvel: *nodding along, as he stress bakes, stirring something in a bowl* “That’s nice. Can you go get some flour for me?”

Jon: “Sure!” *runs off to grab a bag of flour and as he comes back he accidentally drops it and gets it all over the floor, now looking guilty* “I’m sorry.”

Marvel: “It’s… fine.” *takes a deep breath and is trying so hard to not lash out him* “It’s fine.” *takes another deep breath and smiles at him* “Jon, you’ve made pies with Mrs. Kent before right?”

Jon: “No, mom doesn’t like making pies. I make them with Grandma though!”

Marvel: “That’s who I meant.” *hands Jon the bowl* “Hold this please?” *walks over and picks up the flour bag, and puts some into the bowl Jon was holding before putting the bag in a sink* “Mix that and pour it into the pan while I go clean this up.” *ruffles his hair*

Jon: “Okay.” *determined to help him make the best pie ever*

Later…

Batman: *walks into the kitchen* “Marvel-” *does a double take when he sees Jon* “Why is Superboy’s entire lower half covered in flour?”

Marvel: “He dropped a bag of flour earlier.” *shrugs as he lets Jon put a bunch of sprinkles on the pie*

He later watched the feed of the kitchen and that’s how the Marvel potentially being a teacher theory came into existence. Of course, this incident wasn’t the only reason, but still.

While all this is happening, Diana thinks he’s has a job in the archeological field because the man seems to love history.

And Billy does. His dad and mom loved it, and at first he only got into it because they liked it, but he realized he actually found it fascinating.

So, here are the options.

1.) Reporter

2.) Teacher/Caretaker

3.) Archeology

They finally asked when they couldn’t take the suspense anymore.

Marvel: “Oh uhm… well, I don’t work often, (doesn’t work often as Marvel, he works quite often as Billy) but every now and then, I help with unloading pallets and stuff.”

That was… not what they expected. After this conversation, Clark not so sneakily snuck Billy his business card for the Planet. Wondy straight up just gave him the card. Batman didn’t know what to do other than reset to his default and actually sneakily snuck like a thousand dollars to Marvel.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Jason has cuteness aggression.

Anything that you do is cute as fuck to him and all he wants to do is squeeze the fuck out of you in his strong arms, but has to restrain himself from doing so because he doesn’t want to genuinely hurt you.

He’s just so full of love that he doesn’t know what to do with it other then spend all his time with you doing your own thing, even though everything within him is screaming at him to reach out and squish your cheeks together, all the while smothering your face in a abundance of kisses for doing absolutely nothing because that’s how badly in love he is.

Jason just didn’t want to scare you off in how he loves because it could be quite suffocating or too much, but as long as you communicate to him that his love wasn’t suffocating or too much then expect it to quickly be apart of your daily routine, then again it’s not like you’re complaining because an affectionate Jason is an adorable Jason.

So you’d happily just sit there and allow him to hold your face between his hands and kiss you senselessly for just simply existing.

‘Why. Are. You. So. Fucking. Cute.’ Jason would say between planting kisses on your lips, forehead and nose.

‘I’m not even doing anything other than sit here.’ You chuckled, smiling widely at feeling of his lips against your skin.

‘Not a valid enough response.’ Jason replies as he continues his barrage of affection.

‘But it’s true!’ You exclaimed as Jason enough you into his arms and squeezed you tightly as though you were a plush toy. You cuddled into him and rested your head on his chest, finding this side of Jason to be sweet and beautiful as himself. ‘Then why are you the most precious person in my life Hmmm?’ Jason asked rhetorically, burying his face into your head, tightening his grip on you. ‘Then why is it that I would do anything you’d ask without a second thought?’

‘Because we’re together?’ You said, faking ignorance as you wanted nothing more to hear him say it.

‘It’s because I love you chipmunk.’ Jason murmured as he pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, knowing that even if he did manage to show you all the love he had within him, he’d only find even more love underneath all that to give to you.

[PLATONIC ONLY] Damian Wayne claims that he hates being your friend.

But if that was the case then why is it that he goes out of his way to make sure that you were comfortable and treated with respect when he brings you over to the Wayne Manor; Something he’s never gone out of his way to do for anyone besides maybe Jon Kent, but that’s neither here nor there.

Then why was it that when he first introduce you to Titus as a sign of trust, the Great Dane didn’t waste a second in wanting to get to know you with how often he would impatiently nudge you with his head, whine and howl until you gave him head rubs and or cuddles. Damian on the other hand acted as though he was embarrassed by this, but was secretly happy that you and his dog got along as it meant a lot for Damian if Titus instantaneously likes you, he trusts Titus judgment as he believes that dogs were great judges of characters.

Then why was it that when you showed genuine signs of struggle, he was the first person to notice and help you with whatever you were having troubles with as best he could. Damian knew that he would be considered the last person people who go to for help and for obvious reasons, but when it was you Damian wanted to be your first choice, your first option out of everyone; If you get stuck then you might as well get stuck together, even tough he’s intelligent in his own right, he’s not prone to not knowing the answer to something.

It happens to everyone and you have to remind him in those moments that he’s imperfect human, not a weapon. He needs reminding of that now and then in all honesty.

Damian won’t out right call you his friend but he will show it without even knowing he’s even doing it until someone -maybe one of his brothers, mainly Grayson- points it out to him.

‘Is your friend coming over today?’ Grayson would ask.

‘They’re not my friend.’ Damian answered bitterly.

‘Then why are you clearing a space for them.’ Grayson then points out and that’s when Damian stops to realise what he was doing, scowling as he crossed his arms. ‘Tt. That’s none of your concern Grayson I just like to keep my living spaces clean and easily maintained.’ Graysons smile grew as he leant against the doorframe. ‘Oh really? That’s the only reason you’re doing this?’

‘Yes.’ Damian replied, adamant with his answer.

Grayson shrugs and raises his hands in surrender. ‘Okay, if that’s what going on then I guess I’ll leave you be then.’

‘That would be much appreciated Grayson, I still have much to do before y/n’s arrival-‘ Damian once again stopped upon realising what he was insinuating and looked towards Grayson who looked like the cat who caught the canary. ‘Not a word to anyone.’ Damian threatens as he points a finger at his older brother.

‘I didn’t hear a thing.’ Grayson said but as he walked into the hallway only to scream, ‘DAMIAN IS CLEARING UP HIS ROOM FOR HIS FRIEND! JASON YOU OWE ME MONEY! I WON THE BET!’

In the distance Jason could be heard cursing Dick out for cheating somehow.

Damian gritted his teeth but he knew he can’t hunt Dick down for sport just yet, you were arriving in ten minutes and he still had some work to do until then.

Dick has an obsession with you resting your head on his shoulder or on his back, followed by your arms holding onto his waist for dear life.

He lives for it and gets embarrassingly excited whenever you do it to the point that it’s obvious that he was expecting something every time you came home. Dick just likes the idea that despite how exhausted you might be, you still go out of your way to drag your feet across the room and rest your head on his shoulder as you whispered a greeting into his skin.

He enjoys this so much that if you ever dare to forget to do so, he’ll pout and silently watch you as you moved about the apartment expectantly. If after five minutes you still don’t do the thing then Dick will show you his back and sigh dramatically until you’re forced to take notice.

‘What’s wrong pretty bird?’ You asked wearily.

‘Nothing.’ He replies.

‘Dick you’re huffing and sighing every five seconds, somethings wrong.’ You said, getting up to move towards him before resting your head on his back and throwing your arms over his waist. ‘So tell me what’s wrong so that we can talk about it and get through it together.’ You murmur and you felt Dick relax as he rested his hands over your own.

‘There’s no need to talk about anything because you’re already doing the thing that I’ve been waiting for you to do since you got in.’ Dick answered and you couldn’t help but laugh at this while tightening your hold on his waist. ‘This? Seriously?’ You asked.

‘Yep.’ Confirmed Dick as he moved himself so that he could properly hold you against him. ‘Just this and only this.’ He adds softly and you had no reason to argue with him over something that brought him comfort and reassurance.

‘Okay, I’ll remember to do this a lot more, just for you.’ You promised, kissing his shoulder.

‘I’ll hold you to that promise sweetie.’ Dick says as he rested his head atop of yours, closing his eyes as he basked in your closeness and allowed himself to breathe and be in the moment with you.

Because that’s all he wanted, to live in the moment with you.

[dipperscavern]

can I be cheeky and ask for riding jon’s face 🫣🫣🫣

yes… oh yes you absolutely can….. i fell asleep last night to the thought of jon snow canonically being a munch (funny enough) — we’re on the same wavelength anon ! (written w shy!reader in mind)

you’ve heard the talk, heard the different ladies from different statures talk about “the act”, and it’s always a different answer. some say it’s mediocre… others, that it’s their favorite way to feel good, and some, say it’s terrible. you’ve heard stories of men never caring about the woman’s pleasure, and how their only purpose was to give them children. the thought made you shudder.

you, yourself, have never had time. time to freely choose who you trust enough to share that sacred experience with (or even touch yourself). the men at castle black are sworn to celibacy, and even if they would abandon their oath for a night with you, you wouldn’t let them. most of the men at the wall are untrustworthy, and you want more than just a quick fuck. even if these thoughts plague you, you’re too busy with your duties to worry about it. a thing you’ve since long accepted.

until jon snow.

you had been there for jon since his arrival at castle black. never batting an eye at his surname, always trying to make his life a little bit easier. there was also the stolen glances, the soft touches you both passed off as “accidental”, the longing for each other. you both remained as merely “close friends”, until things boiled over and you found solace in each others lips. it didn’t go farther than that, the tentative kiss being soft & exploring, and that was okay with you. you didn’t expect more. until you got more.

sometimes, you hate jon for being so easy to talk to. your shy nature has slowly melted away in his presence, and you find yourself unable to be embarrassed about the questions you ask or answer. your late night talks are what keeps jon sane. he wants to know everything about you, and you both would talk till morning if you could (you have before). the topic often shifts, landing on anything and everything on the planet. even “the act”.

imagine jon’s surprise, when the most beautiful & endearing woman he’s ever met drops her gaze to the floor and bashfully tells him she’s never cum before.

jon short circuits. he asks if you want to. he asks if he can make you. and you say yes.

jon snow is a giver. tasting a woman is a pleasure in itself, and he’d tell you as much if you asked. his mind ran a million miles an hour, thinking about all the ways he could make you feel good. it doesn’t take long before the desire to taste you takes a hold of him, and so he does.

“You’re hovering.”

he’s not wrong. you are. you thought you had heard it all, but the act of sitting on someone’s face has clearly alluded your ears. you’re unsure. you don’t want to hurt him.. suffocating the first man you lay with would have you begging the gods to open the ground and swallow you whole. and it’s not just any man, it’s jon.

the soft glide of jon’s fingers across your thigh bring you out of your head. his hands are cold. they feel nice in contrast to your own skin, nerves lit on fire.

“I don’t want to hurt you…”

“You won’t.”

“Jon-”

“Do you trust me?”

he’s steadfast in his reassurance. his thumb has been rubbing circles in your hip while you both have been talking. does he do it all on purpose, or is he just this naturally desirable?

“You know I do, but-“

“Good. Sit.”

you still hesitate, and that’s when jon takes matters into his own hands. his hands stop their tracing, and instead grip your thighs, bringing you down himself.

whatever expectations you had are exceeded tenfold. jon eats you out like a man starved. your head spins with the way you can feel his tongue, exploring you and swiping over your clit. it has white hot pleasure shooting up your spine, and your thighs quiver ever so slightly, but jon’s firm grip keeps you in place. he’s confident in his movements, precise and sure in a way that makes you see stars.

jon thinks he’s found the place where he would be content to meet his demise. you taste so good, and the pretty sounds you’re making have blood rushing straight to his cock. jon has always loved the sound of his name on your lips — whether it be small acknowledgments in passing by, or just mentions in mere conversation. but he’s found he much prefers hearing you moan it.

you’re almost embarrassed how quickly he has warmth building up in your belly, pressure building as he gives you the most pleasure you’ve ever had. he’s giving and giving and giving, and you find yourself selfishly taking all of it. he doesn’t slow down, keeping a steady rhythm that makes the cord in your stomach wind impossibly tighter.

“Jon, I’m-!”

you don’t get to finish your sentence, interrupted by the snap of the cord in your stomach that was previously tightening. pleasure overtakes your nerves, flooding your veins and momentarily removing your ability to speak (or think). jon’s tongue doesn’t stop fully, only slowing down to help you ride out your peak.

you catch your breath, feeling jon kiss the inside of your thighs as small aftershocks have you clenching around nothing. you find yourself seeking his touch (as if he hasn’t been constantly on you), your hand running along the surface of your thigh to find his own. he reaches for you, trapping your own smaller hand beneath his own. it’s reassuring, grounding you back to the present after he brought you so far over the edge.

you move to get off, to let him get up & breathe — but he doesn’t release his grip, keeping you in place. you hear him speak.

“Only once?”

[confessedlyfannish]

DP x DC Writing Prompt #9

"Are you sure about this?" J'onn asks, reading the discontent amongst the Kents. Clark and Lois each have a hand on their teenage son's shoulders, who several weeks prior was aged ten years old.

"We're sure," Clark says. He is not, nor is his wife. But his son is, who lays his hand on his mother's and squeezes. It is that surety that J'onn honors as he delves into the young (but not as young as he should be) man's mind.

The memories are hard to find but not gone, hidden behind what Jon can only see manifested as a glowing green wall. When he raises a tentative hand, the shield sparks green, but does no harm. Pushing through is like wading through the consistency of jello, which he finds an overall unpleasant experience. But he is unharmed as he passes through.

Before J'onn can sort through the memories he is all but sucked into the one at the forefront, where a Jon most similar in visage to the one recently returned perches on the edge of a building. Beside him lies a burger, partially unwrapped though uneaten, and a small soda.

As the memory builds out a sun sets on a small suburban town, and a muscled thigh knocks into Jon's, an older man with a shock of white hair and eyes the same light and color as the shield formed around these memories appearing. He's tall even sitting, likely about as tall as Superman, and looks to be in his thirties. A full body suit comprised of black and silver accents stretches across broad shoulders, a stylized D on his chest. He knocks his thigh into Jon's again.

"You said I couldn't go back," Jon says quietly.

"I lied," the man says lightly.

"You're lying now," Jon says, glaring at him. "I can hear your heart."

"Nice try, kiddo, I don't have a heart in this form," the man says, reaching a hand out, presumably to ruffle his hair. Jon dodges.

"I know you're lying. You would've told me. You would've helped me get home."

"Jon--"

"You're protecting Clockwork, aren't you?" Jon demands, eyes beginning to burn red. "That old coot decided it wasn't enough to play with you, he had to play with me too."

The man slaps a hand over Jon's eyes. "Breathe, like we practiced," he instructs firmly. Steam rises from where his palm meets Jon's eyes, but if it hurts he shows no indication. "In, 2, 3. Out, 2, 3."

Jon whimpers but heaves a breath, and the burst of red light dies down from between the man's fingers. His hand moves down to Jon's shoulder.

"I can't pretend to understand Clockwork's decisions," the man says, as tears begin to pool in Jon's eyes. "Frankly, I don't want to. I suspect they are hard decisions to make, sometimes."

"I don't get why you defend him," Jon says. "Dumbledore acting bastard."

"Language," the man says, lightly bopping him on the head. J'onn notes the boy actually winces, as if the blow hurts.

"I am upset with him, I hope you know that," the man continues. "But at the end of the day I'm also grateful. Because I got to meet you." He hooks an arm around Jon's shoulders, pulling him in. "And now you'll get to see your family again. And Sally, Arnold, and Damian!"

Jon sniffles, rubbing roughly at his face. He leans into the man's bicep. A trusted adult figure, then. One he's described his life to. A life, J'onn is sad to note, he appears to have lived for the past six years, as opposed to a sudden shift in appearance. Jon's next question all but confirm it: "Can I really go back? It's been so long. They'll be all grown up."

"Hey, of course you can," the man says, rubbing his shoulder. "I'm sure they've missed you so much. They'll be so happy to see you again."

Jon starts to smile. "I'm going home."

"You're going home!" The man laughs, shaking him.

"I can finally eat some decent barbecue again!"

"Hey!" the man protests, "The smoker blew up one time!"

Jon continues, beginning to get excited. "And Ma will make her jalapeño cornbread! I never could get it right, I can't wait for you to try it!"

J'onn notes the older man's smile fading, eyes growing sad.

"And Damian will definitely want to spar and oh, oh! With you on our side we can totally prank Batman! I bet Alfred will even help! And Mom gives the best hugs, Pops comes really close but Mom will be really excited to meet you, everyone will."

"Jon," The man says.

"I knew you'd be worried about it, but they'll want to meet you," Jon says, clocking his expression. "They'll be grateful. You, you helped me. You kept me safe and taught me how to be Superman. They'll love you, I promise."

"Jon, I can't go with you," the man says gently.

"I'm not saying you stay, but you can visit! I'm sure the Justice League can figure out a way to maintain a portal, they're super used to all that multiverse stuff. Once they have the coordinates, you can stop by whenever!"

"I can't go through the portal, Jon," the man says. "To other worlds, I'm a god. And gods can't interfere. The only reason I can continue to live here is because this is the world of my origin."

Jon gapes at him. "But--but,"

"You're going to see your Mom and Dad again," the man says. "And your brother, and grandparents."

"I can come here, then," Jon says desperately, pushing his way out of the man's arms. The man is already shaking his head. "I can!"

"You can't."

"Why, because Clockwork says so? He's a liar!"

"Because multiverse travel is never a good idea. If you got trapped here again--"

"I wouldn't,"

"You belong with your family,"

"You're my family!" Jon cries. The man freezes. "You, and Sam, and Jazz, and Tucker and Val and Ellie and Pops and Mads, you're all my family! I can't just leave you, I won't!"

"Oh kiddo," The man says, eyes wet. "I love you too. We all do."

"So I'll stay," Jon says decisively. "For all we know my world is a wasteland. Gramps wasn't exactly right in the head when I left. It's better to stay here."

J'onn notes a green vine unwinding from a nearby trellis. It slides down the eave towards the pair.

"You don't mean that," the man is saying.

"I'm sixteen. I can make my own decisions. I'm staying."

The man cups Jon's face. "Your parents did not have a choice in losing you. I'm willing to bet they're devastated. Because I'd be devastated, losing a kid as great as you."

"Maybe they're not even there," Jon says, but the words are half-hearted, and it clearly hurts him to say them.

"I know I seem like a pushover, but if I thought Clockwork was sending you back to anything less than your loving family, I'd destroy him first. And he knows that. They're going to be there, I promise."

"I don't want to go," Jon says. Behind him, the vine rises from the eave of its own will, poised like a cobra enchanted by a snark charmer.

"I know," the man says, eyes drifting to the vine. "I'm so sorry, Jon."

"For what?" Jon asks, as the vine attaches itself to the nape of his neck. His eyes roll back as he collapses into the man's arms. The man hugs him tighter than is strictly necessary.

J'onn expects the memory to now end, alongside Jon's consciousness. To his curiosity, it does not.

"For what it's worth," a young woman spits bitterly, vines supporting her weight as she slips over the side of the roof. "I still think this is horrible." Her eyes are red and miserable.

"Seriously, team punching Dumbledore in the face," A young black man says, appearing in the air supported by a woman almost identical in appearance to the man holding Jon, down to the suit colors. They land on the rooftop.

"Are you sure about this," the dark haired woman with powers over plants asks. "Because to be honest, Danny, I'm five seconds away from punching you in the face."

"Jazz won't speak to you for months," the girl, likely his sister, points out.

"Make it a year," the man says, crossing his arms.

The man, Danny, ignores them all. He cards a hand through Jon's hair. "He'll retain the experience, but not the memories?"

"Yes, he'll be a perfect little superhero, just as you taught him," the woman says, vines twisting agitatedly around her, wrapping around her thigh, wrists and neck almost punishingly.

"Sam," the man says. "He needs to go home. All of you know that."

"He doesn't have to forget us to do so!" the sister bursts, eyes flashing green.

"Remembering would be a torment," Danny says. "He'll know he was loved. That's enough."

"Danny," the plant woman says, sitting beside them both. She puts a gentle hand on his, both on Jon's back. "This is just a different torment."

"And if someone finds out?" Danny asks. He has been patient amidst their scorn, but now a tiny edge ekes into his voice. "A god's child, unprotected? Threatened? He would never stop looking for a way back, and being vocal about it could get him killed."

The others are silent.

"He'll be home. He'll be happy," Danny says. More powerful than a prayer. A directive. He raises his head past the child slumbering in his lap, past them all, face hardening, and says to J'onn: "And you will say nothing."

J'onn takes a step back, fear so thick he could choke on it flooding his very being. Thismanwillkillhim, thismanwillkillhim.

This man will reach through dimensions and kill him.

"Now, get the fuck out of my kid's head," Danny snarls. J'onn is pushed back with enough force he enters his own mind in a vicious whirl that leaves him physically on the floor, gasping.

"I'm sorry," he says as Superman rushes to lift him, and he's not sure who he's apologizing to. Green eyes will pierce his dreams. Vines will crush his throat in his nightmares, screaming silence, silence.

You will say nothing.

"I'm sorry," J'onn says, politely pushing Clark's hands away as he rises. He's already beginning to calm, because he understands. Those are consequences he will not face. He will do as directed. He looks at Jon Kent, bewildered but unharmed, clutching his mother's hand.

J'onn reaches down and dusts at his pants. "I'm sorry," he says evenly, ready to spin his tale. Perhaps the Kents will continue to seek their answers. Perhaps not. He will stay out of it either way. He has been warned.

You were loved by gods. And to keep you safe, they would quiet us all.

Part Two

[feeder86]

The Boss' Secret

There was something familiar about Daniel. Jon recognised his face from somewhere, although he could not put his finger on where. They shook hands, being introduced as colleagues for the first time by their senior leader. But as Jon studied his facial features, he could already see that Daniel showed no signs of recognising him in return.

“Daniel will be overseeing most of the accounts from now on,” Rachel explained, clearly a little taken by the slender twenty-something as she showed him around. “He’s got some fantastic ideas to really rejuvenate things around here and save on costs.”

Jon could feel his teeth clenching. He knew that they were hiring for a new member of the team, but he wasn’t aware that that recruited person would be working above him. It was yet another shitty move from the higher-ups, promising them all pay-rises and progression, then hiring in from outside and going back on their word. And then they wondered why morale was so low?

“Can you believe that?” Jon grumbled later to Kathleen at the desk behind him. He could feel a rage building inside him. “They’ve hired that skinny little shit to come and put us all in our places!”

“What else did you expect?” Kathleen sighed, rolling her eyes and agreeing with him completely.

It was things like this that caused Jon the most frustration in his life. He was tall, broad, muscular and extremely masculine-looking with his well groomed beard. He weighed more than 240lbs, having the largest glutes and thighs than anyone else in his gym. In his day-to-day life, people naturally looked up to him and listened. But, here in work and throughout his career, he’d had to fight for every last thing he had received. “Where’s he from?” he asked Kathleen, still unable to shake off the recognition that he felt.

“New York,” Kathleen replied. “Janice drew up his contract. I know I shouldn’t say this, but… he’s going to be on more money than you and I combined.”

Jon shook his head and looked over the desks at his new, younger boss, already despising him. Guys who worked their way up the ladder this quickly were always the type to take credit for other’s work, or throw people under the bus whenever they’d fucked up on something. In no way could Jon ever trust a guy who had climbed the ranks this quickly. But, even so…. where the fuck did he recognise him from?

Gina had been an awesome distraction for Jon that night, turning him on by gorging her big fat belly on pizza and cake. She sucked him off so perfectly and easily gorged on at least three thousand calories to satisfy his kinks. In return, he’d fucked her just as hard as his big thighs and powerful hips suggested he was capable of; leaving her feeling completely satisfied and grateful as he slipped out the door.

No stranger to casual sex, Jon had to admit that he enjoyed the fatties more than any other. Their soft, fleshy bodies made him feel so powerful and in control. When they ate for him, he knew they would be carrying additional pounds that were his alone; that he had added to them. The whole thing was a buzz like no other. It was the reason why he frequented those feederism websites and apps; happily perusing through one the following evening in the hope of finding more possible connections with fat girls.

That was when Jon’s eyes boggled and his jaw dropped to the floor. Staring back from the screen at him was his new boss’ profile picture. The idiot was sharing his face and everything; all there for everyone to see. Jon remembered coming across him several times in chat rooms. The guy was just another fat-lover, like himself. However, he didn’t seem to have the right charm or dominant approach to getting the attention that Jon enjoyed from the larger ladies. Sure, his face was pretty, but the moment he started talking on there, most people assumed he was a simple catfish.

Anonymously, Jon clicked on the guy’s profile, seeing that he had just moved from New York and was on the hunt for a larger lady to ‘feed-up and pamper’. Jon couldn’t believe what he was reading. This was absolute gold! Imagine what would happen if he exposed this at work! He screenshotted the lot, storing it ready for himself, just in case.

“So why is Daniel meeting with my client?” Jon demanded, incensed. “They’re my client! I was the one who brought them here from my last job!”

“He’s done the same thing with some of Kathleen’s clients,” Fred added, whispering in case others heard them. Daniel’s reign was still in its infancy and loyalties had not yet been fully established.

“That’s the fifth time this week he’s pissed me off,” Jon complained, similarly looking around to check that no one was listening in. “Is that all they’re paying him for? To take clients… clients we already have… out to lunch?”

Fred laughed but nodded in complete agreement. None of them had yet to see the great ‘innovation and cost-saving’ that Daniel had promised to deliver. As far as they could all see, Daniel was nothing but hot air and a sickening stench of self-importance.

“I’m meeting with a client on Friday and I want you to come with me,” Daniel announced a few weeks later. “I think you’ve got the sort of charm with the ladies that may work with this one,” he explained.

Jon laughed inwardly to himself. There was no tolerance for sexual exploitation in this office, apart from when they needed his muscular body to help them swoon a new client. “Sure,” he nodded nonchalantly, requesting the case notes to read through beforehand. He wasn’t surprised in the slightest that Daniel was asking for help to seduce a potential new client into signing. Once you looked beyond his pretty face, there really wasn’t much personality to find within. Despite being on those feederism sites most evenings, Daniel didn’t seem to be making much impact there, either. Although he had at least found some sense to remove his face from his public profile.

As arranged, Jon made his way to the restaurant that Friday, frustrated that Daniel had already sat down with the client. Why hadn’t they all just arrived together at the same time? Was it a strategy of Daniel’s, simply to make himself look more professional in front of the client by arranging that Jon was a little late? He’d certainly known insecure bosses to pull similar stunts in the past.

Plastering a smile on his face, Jon set to work, doing exactly what he did best. There were occasions when he had to deflect some poor interferences from Daniel but, on the whole, no one could argue that the successful outcome of the lunch meeting was entirely down to him.

“Well, I think I owe you a beer,” Daniel conceded afterwards, as the client left with a giant smile across her face. “I certainly didn’t think she was going to sign for that length of time.”

“You’ve gotta be ambitious,” Jon shrugged. “I knew I had her the moment she brought out those pictures of her dog.”

“Yes! That was definitely the moment she started coming around,” Daniel nodded in complete agreement. “Thank goodness your mom bred all those German Shepherds when you were growing up.”

Jon looked at him sideways, raising an eyebrow. Had he really been as gullible as the client?

“That was all bullshit?” Daniel asked in surprise. “But you sounded so knowledgeable!”

“A dog’s a dog. You just have to tell the client whatever they want to hear,” Jon chuckled, finishing his coffee and standing up. “I also have an uncle who works for the New York Yankees and a cousin in the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. They never fail to impress the clients when I talk about them.”

Daniel looked as though he wasn’t completely sure that Jon was still making things up. Then the pair of them simply laughed.

“I’ll catch you back at the office,” Jon announced, striding back through the restaurant as people subtly swooned over his muscular thighs and butt in his tightest work pants.

Scrolling through the feedism app that weekend, Jon couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Daniel had posted a status the night before that seemed bizarrely out of character. He had recounted visiting a restaurant with his ‘muscular colleague’ and had described his body in quite surprisingly erotic detail; ending with: ‘I so wish I could fatten him up!’

“Cheeky fucker!” Jon laughed aloud from his bed as he read it. He searched back through the guy’s profile, realising that there hasn’t been any hint of bisexuality before now. It was part of the reason why the guy had failed to make any impact on there. No one could really make any sense of what he was actually after. Whereas Jon always went in hard and confident; flirting with anyone with a big appetite and at least a hundred pounds of extra blubber.

Jon sat back and smirked. So his boss had a little crush on him? That was definitely unexpected. And yet, it was also something that he could definitely use to his advantage.

“Off out for lunch with the boss again today?” Fred smirked, trying to conceal his jealousy with humor. “The Chosen One, yet again!” he laughed.

Jon nodded. He had started to do quite well under Daniel’s reign. A month earlier he had been looking for jobs at other companies. But now he found himself feeling rather content with his work life. The favouritism was obvious and Jon could feel the relationships with his colleagues becoming a little more tense, but the trade off would be worth it when his pay review came up. “Daniel’s the numbers guy, and I’m the charisma,” he simply joked back to Fred. “You’ve gotta admit, we’ve never taken on so many new clients in such a short space of time.”

“All these free lunches on the company expenses account,” he grumbled. “You’ll start looking like the boss soon, if you’re not careful.”

Jon nodded and quietly laughed. It was something they had all noticed in the last couple of weeks. A distinct dad bod had started to take hold of Daniel’s slim physique. Bombarded by an onslaught of company lunches since he had arrived four months ago, a distinct paunch had started to push its way out below his chest, straining the buttons of his ‘slim-fit’ shirts. It was his own fault, Jon noted with surprising glee. He’d seen for himself how carelessly the guy ordered from the menus, selecting signature dishes rather than considering what was actually in them. He’d also not got his apartment straight since he’d moved from New York, relying on microwave meals and take-out more often than not. What else should he expect?

“Don’t you worry about me,” Jon smirked, tapping his trim waistline. “I think there’s only space for one little chub in this office,” he winked, happy to show that despite being so much in favor with the new boss, he also wasn’t above making a joke at his expense.

A few days later, Jon and Daniel sat at the bar, congratulating each other with a beer after having secured yet another large account that evening. They’d done their homework beforehand and executed their strategy to perfection. To be fair to Daniel, the guy really did put the hours in. There wasn’t a single figure that he hadn’t had to hand the moment the clients asked for it; saving Jon’s pitch and smooth talking each time they tried to catch him out. Still, all these work hours were taking their toll on the boss, with his squisher glutes starting to spread themselves a little wider across the bar stool.

“Hello, stranger!” came a loud voice as a giant lady started striding towards them.

“Gina!” Jon smiled, getting up to kiss and hug the large girl from the feederism website, all dressed up and fancy on a night out with her friends. “Looking good!” he swooned, suddenly remembering that Daniel shared his larger taste in women. “Gina, this is my boss, Daniel,” he smiled, making the introductions.

Daniel rose to his feet, looking rather overwhelmed. He shook her hand and seemed quite out of breath once she had left. “Is she your girlfriend?” he asked, sounding impressed.

“Nah,” Jon replied, shaking his head. “She’s a beautiful girl, and I enjoy messing around with her every now and then,” he smirked, letting Daniel know exactly the sort of fun they got up to. “But she’s also very high maintenance!”

Daniel was still staring at Gina’s enormous rear as she disappeared out of the door to the restaurant. “Can I ask you something?” he mumbled, seeming now to look up to Jon more than ever before. “How do I get a girl like that?”

Jon smiled, enjoying the dynamic that had seemed to form between them. He wasn’t intimidated by the overly serious, sometimes humorless nature of Daniel, like so many others at the company were. He’d read too many status updates about himself on the guy’s feedism profile, describing Daniel’s crush on him in quite some detail. One had particularly made Jon laugh, where the younger boss had described how the pair of them had been in an elevator together, before a giant influx of people joined at a later floor, squishing them both together. The boner this had given Daniel, having Jon’s large, muscular glutes pressed up against him, was written up in extraordinarily graphic detail that even gave Jon a semi when he read it.

“Girls like Gina,” Jon began, with an air of expertise, “they love confidence. They’re big and heavy and they love a guy who can handle all that. When they see a big, strong man like me, they know they’re in for a good time.”

Daniel looked down at his own body with dismay. “Maybe that’s where I’m going wrong,” he sighed. “Since moving here, I’ve accidentally let myself get a little doughy.”

Jon chuckled. He knew that he was supposed to make Daniel feel better and tell him that he looked no different to how he did five months ago, but what was the point? They’d all noticed the pounds he had gained. “Listen,” he began, leaning in a little closer and choosing to have some fun. “Even that little paunch of yours is a marketable asset,” he stated with certainty, deciding to play with the guy. “Who usually ends up with the fat girl in the end?” he asked. “It’s always the fat boy!”

Daniel looked across at Jon the same way most guys did; as a man who knew exactly what he was talking about when it came to seducing girls. “You’re saying I shouldn’t lose weight?”

Jon rolled his eyes. Surely Daniel knew him well enough by now to work out when he was playing with him? He always took everything so damn seriously! He sighed, deciding to see how long he could stretch the joke out instead. “Of course not,” he laughed. “Keep going! Add a few more pounds. It’ll all be worth it in the end.”

“I never thought about it that way before,” Daniel nodded, looking down at his softer middle with renewed understanding. “I guess the type of girls I like would find this all pretty hot,” he considered, rubbing his hand against the blubber in his stomach.

Jon looked on with surprise. Did he let on that he had been kidding? Or did he simply let this ideal roll?

“Fuck!” Jon gasped as he checked into the feedism app the next evening. “What the hell has he done to himself?” he laughed.

There, on the screen, was a brand new picture of Daniel added to his profile, showing his body from the neck down dressed only in some very tight underwear. Just what had all this careless eating done to his physique? The guy was positively flabby! A generous coating of fat had surrounded his stomach area, destroying the tight waist that had been visible in previous pictures. Likewise, his chest had begun to soften, with fresh blubber seeping itself around his nipples and beginning to make them pointed and sensitive-looking. His underwear seemed tight around his thighs as even his legs seemed considerably more padded with softness. It was one thing to see Daniel looking a little softer and doughier in the office. But without his clothes on, there was no hiding just how far his lifestyle had thickened him up. Jon’s boss was actually fat!

Jon read through all the comments the picture had attracted. As well as the mountain of likes, guys and girls had complemented and teased Daniel with as much enthusiasm and arousal as Daniel must have hoped for. The horny guy had replied to each and every one of them, promising to keep up this new look. That was when Jon actually felt himself getting hard. He’d been the one to start this. This had all been his idea. Had he single-handedly created his very own monster?

“Are you okay?” Jon asked, stepping into Daniel’s office a few days later and seeing his boss looking a little surprised and flustered at his sudden appearance. 

Upon seeing that it was only Jon, Daniel relaxed and pulled back a hastily concealed box of doughnuts, grabbing a fresh one for himself. “I thought you were Rachel,” he mumbled, resuming what had obviously been a mid-morning bout of gluttony.

“What’ve you got there?” Jon asked, stepping closer and picking up the sweet scent.

“It’s a pack of twelve. You want one?”

Jon waved his hand and shook his head. “You keep at it, buddy!” he smiled, dropping a report with the projected sales figures for one of their client’s companies. “I’m guessing you’ll be wanting lunch at your desk today?” he asked, perching himself on Daniel’s desk.

“I’ve actually got a lunch date,” Daniel replied, holding up a doughnut, as if this explained everything. “She likes big guys, so I may have exaggerated and told her I’m a little heavier than I actually am,” he continued.

“How much did you tell her you were?” Jon asked, peering down at his boss’ bloated stomach.

“Two hundred and thirty five,” Daniel replied, wincing like he was quite some distance off that figure.

Jon pulled a sceptical face. “Yikes! What possessed you to tell her you were that big already?” he chuckled.

“I’m really into her,” Daniel sighed, as if this explained it all. “She’s big… very big. I’ve never had a chance with a girl like that.”

Jon looked down on his boss with pity. Having had more than his fair share of larger ladies, he could hardly begrudge Daniel his first opportunity to enjoy himself. “Well, I guess we could try and bloat you up a little bit before you go,” he suggested, taking the report back and deciding that his boss had far more important things to attend to. “Doughnuts won’t work all by themselves. I can whip something up for you, I’m sure.”

Jon soon left Daniel to finish his doughnuts whilst he emptied his large gym bag and headed straight to the convenience store down the block. There he bought a large gallon bottle of water which he immediately tipped out, and replaced with a mixture of several items, including whole milk, cream and a few sachets of the calorie boost powder he kept for after his gym sessions. Without a blender, he merely had to shake the daunting mixture up after he pulled it from his bag back in Daniel’s office.

“This’ll put some meat on your bones!” Jon grinned, pleased with the surprisingly large mixture he had created within ten minutes.

“You want me to drink all that?” Daniel asked, amused by the idea.

“Well, why not? You made light work of those doughnuts,” Jon joked, spotting the empty tray. “I don’t see how this is any different.” 

He passed over the great container to his boss who simply looked at it, perplexed. The bottle was so heavy, Daniel couldn’t hold it up to his mouth without help, and so Jon stood behind his chair, reaching his arms out to support the bottle as Daniel tried to tip it up and into his mouth.

Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. The guy was actually doing it!

“You’re doing the right thing, buddy!” Jon coaxed him. “This’ll blow you up for your date in no time!”

Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. Jon kept his eye on the door to the office, silently wishing that he had locked it behind them.

“This is a good effort!” Jon continued, noticing that Daniel still hadn’t stopped for a break. “Your shirt buttons are getting tighter already.”

Gulp. Gulp. Gulp. Suddenly the bottle was light enough for Daniel to hold himself. Jon stepped back, feeling the stiffness in his crotch as he saw for himself the monster he had set loose.

With only a third remaining, Daniel finally lowered the bottle and paused, clearly trying to release a burp; the sound of it eventually coming rolling up his throat at a velocity that was unknown to most people; gargling through the large amount of liquid that had already filled his stomach. 

“Awesome work, buddy!” Jon chuckled, clapping the guy on his back. “Better out than in!”

“My gut feels like it’s about to explode!” Daniel groaned, setting the bottle down on the floor.

“That’s exactly how it looks as well,” Jon grinned, still standing somewhere behind his boss’ field of vision. “She’s going to be one lucky lady when she meets you later!” he marvelled at the stout bloat that had pushed Daniel’s shirt buttons to the absolute limit. He grabbed his bag and held it so that his crotch was covered, advising Daniel to take his time with the last third, then made his way out, back into the bustling office space once more; where not a single person could have guessed what had just gone on behind that closed door.

Jon didn’t need to wait until the following Monday to find out how his boss’ date had gone. Daniel had written all about it on his profile, describing the incredibly decadent and gluttonous time he had enjoyed. By Sunday, there were more pictures of him; this time drinking shakes that looked suspiciously like the one Jon had made up for him, with a caption that told everyone that the drinking of these was the biggest turn on he had ever experienced.

A few more weeks went by. For the first time ever, Jon had been asked to accompany Daniel to a hotel in Toronto where they were meeting with huge new clients and putting the finishing touches to a major project they had been working on with them for quite some time; one that would be the crown jewel of Jon’s CV if it all came together.

“This place is unreal!” Jon gasped as they arrived in the hotel lobby. “Have you seen the spa facilities?” he asked, showing Daniel a copy of the brochure he had been perusing whilst his boss had been checking them in.

“Go for it!” Daniel chuckled as their bags were carried ahead of them up to their rooms. “It’s all on the company account. They stand to make a lot of money on this, so take full advantage. The flight home isn’t until Thursday.”

Despite the optimism, the work schedule had been surprisingly gruelling since they had arrived in Toronto. It wasn’t until the Wednesday that things started to relax and the two men could finally spend a little more time enjoying the lavish hotel. A confident Jon strode into the changing rooms with his chubby boss. He’d never been shy about his own body. He’d always been taller and better built than most guys, and he had learned that, even when flaccid, his penis was significantly bigger than the average. 

If anything, Jon was most curious about whether he would later end up reading about the experience of getting changed in front of Daniel on the guy’s feederism profile. It had been some weeks since there had been anything written about him whatsoever, with Daniel writing post after post about his own body instead. Perhaps a little glimpse of Jon’s large, muscular glutes. that the boss’ profile had previously stated he found so alluring, would soon prove to be the key to correcting that.

Daniel’s undersized swimming trunks pinched at the guy’s back fat like nothing Jon had ever seen before. It was as if his former athletic body was still perfectly visible, yet the puddles of fat invaded it all from above, not yet fully integrated, but simply leeching onto wherever it could. Jon had to admit that even he had been shocked at how Daniel looked without a shirt on now. Sure, he’d seen pictures on the feederism website, but that hadn’t prepared him for the fluttering of the back fat when he walked behind Daniel into the sauna, nor the way it all rolled up when he sat his wide butt down in the dry heat.

“Does this sauna feel hotter than most others?” Daniel asked, sweating so much that his whole blubbery body glistened.

Jon looked at him and chuckled. “I was just thinking how much less intense it is in here than the ones I’ve been to in the past.”

Daniel threw his sweaty head back against the wooden walls and tried to breathe a little deeper. “It must just be me then.”

“Or, it could be all this recently installed insulation,” Jon joked, poking his boss in his tummy and being genuinely surprised at how far his finger went in with so little effort; especially after how tightly the man had packed his gut at breakfast. “Being a hit with the ladies does have its consequences!”

Daniel nodded and seemed to relax a little more, grabbing a roll of his fat and jiggling it. “It’s all come on so fast,” he agreed. “My friends back in New York will be so shocked when I see them.”

“Of course they will,” Jon smiled. “You’re a fat boy now.”

Daniel grinned. “I really do love it!”

“I know you do,” Jon laughed. “It’s hot!” he blasted, suddenly realising that he was being a little too forward. “I mean… you know, it’s hot when fat girls really embrace it and let you play with their fat; maybe feed them a little,” he added. The pair of them had discussed their love of larger ladies in the past, but their conversations had never gone as far as talking about feeding them.

Daniel’s eyes lit up and he nodded. “Actually…” he smiled. “There’s a girl I met online. She’s really keen to… be the one to feed me.”

“Oh…right,” Jon replied awkwardly. The conversation and gentle flirting had been so fun, but hearing that there was someone else ready to take on all the hard work that Jon had begun with Daniel actually made his teeth clench with jealousy. “What’s she like?” he asked.

“She’s so hot!” Daniel beamed. “We’ve only met a few times but…”

“You’ve actually met her?” Jon asked, feeling even more scorned now.

“Oh, yeah!” Daniel nodded, delighted with himself. “We’re actually dating.”

Jon listened as Daniel droned on and on about the new love in his life. He’d always felt somewhat in control of the situation; that he could snap his fingers and make the guy fall for him, should he ever wish for it. Yet now there was someone else. He’d waited too long. Perhaps Daniel had never really been into him as much as his profile made out. 

Daniel wouldn’t have noticed how pissed off Jon felt, yet he still made his excuses, heading out of the sauna, claiming that he needed to make a phone call before their first meeting. But, inside, he was silently devastated.

“We’re glad we’ve finally got you on your own,” smiled Holly, the main business associate they had been dealing with in Toronto. “We’ve been very impressed with you this week and would like to invite you into discussions about coming to work with us in the very near future.”

Jon’s eyes widened. A job offer?

“Let me ask you, how would you feel about relocating here to Canada?”

“Um, well…” Jon murmured, hardly knowing what to say. He thought all the hard negotiations had been completed yesterday. Then he thought back to Daniel and how let down he had felt. As a man who had always been able to keep people hanging on his every word, he suddenly felt childishly spiteful towards sticking around for Daniel; especially if the guy was going to go off and date someone else anyway. “Sure,” he nodded. “I’m up to discuss that.”

Besides the outrageous rental prices, Toronto had turned out to be an awesome place to work and live. Jon was earning well over twice his salary at his old job and, in the three years that he had lived there, he had fallen for a girl on his team; even becoming engaged at one point.

However, things were now starting to fall apart. His relationship was over, thanks to a pregnancy scare that had uncovered a fast chasm of difference in the pair’s priorities and life goals. Also, following a car accident his father had been in, Jon came to realise that his parents were not getting any younger. Canada had been great, but it was time to move back home.

Jon began what he assumed would be a long process of trying to find a job that was even comparable to his salary in Toronto. However, the portfolio of work he had put together from his time there was a serious draw to anyone who had his CV wafted under their nose. Within a week of looking, Jon had accepted a position at a prestigious company he could never have dreamed of taking him on three years ago.

“The team are all very keen to meet you,” Gina explained, leading Jon around the new offices the company now occupied in the very heart of the city. 

Everyone seemed very nice and friendly. Jon had been glad that he had worn his tightest shirt and pants as he could already see his appearance was going to earn him a lot of favour with the heavily overbalanced, majority female, staff members.

“Danny usually works from home on a Monday,” Gina explained, taking Jon into the large office that was next to his own. “But he’s come in especially today so that he can get you up to speed on things.”

A massively overweight man rose to his feet as they entered, his hand already outstretched to shake as he moved out from behind his desk. 

Even as Jon took his hand, the realisation didn’t hit him until he looked deeply into the man’s eyes. ““Daniel!” he laughed. But how was this so? He was barely recognizable, with a huge ring of fat now surrounding and framing his face; well shaved skin and an extreme double chin having entirely swallowed his neck.  “I didn’t know you worked here!”

“About eighteen months or so now,” Daniel nodded. “I couldn’t believe it when they said you’d been hired. Head of marketing, huh?” he chuckled. “I guess I’ll be accountable to you when it comes to that department,” he joked, appreciating the reversal of roles.

Gina took an interest in Daniel and Jon’s previous work together. As Daniel explained it all, Jon had the opportunity to look down and see just what had happened to his old boss. Exactly how had that little pot belly exploded into such a monstrously wide gut? How had his fleshy chest suddenly become adorned with breasts that were larger than most girls’? And how did he move about these days with thighs so incredibly thick and juicy?

“I’ll leave you with Danny to get reacquainted, and he can guide you through the account I referenced earlier,” Gina smiled, making her way towards the door. As soon as it closed, both men seemed to give a great sigh of relief and looked at each other, grinning.

“Look at you!” Jon marvelled, sending his eyes straight onto Daniel’s giant gut. “You look so different! You certainly know how to take an idea and run with it!”

Daniel smiled and reached out his hand to touch the extent of his giant tummy. Even his hands had filled with fat; mere dimples where his knuckles had once been, and sweet little creases of skin where his wrists began. “I recently hit four, sixty,” he grinned, seemingly loving Jon’s startled reaction

The last three years had suddenly evaporated. Jon fell back into feeling completely relaxed around Daniel as he circled around to get a look at the guy from behind. His ass had completely blown up and the love handles were enormous! “I can’t believe you took it this far!” he laughed, unafraid to show his sheer delight. “Is this the work of the girlfriend you were seeing before I left for Canada?”

Daniel pondered for a second, wondering who it was Jon was referring to. Then he shook his head. “No… this has been all me,” he smiled, placing his hands on his wide hips. “With, perhaps just the odd bit of help from a feeder or two over the years,” he winked.

“Awesome, dude!” Jon smiled. “Absolutely awesome!”

“I agree!” Daniel smirked, sitting his giant ass back down at his desk with a plop. “Although, the back fat is rather interesting at the moment,” he chuckled, lifting his arms and showing just how much blubber had filled under his armpits, visible even through his giant work shirt. He tried reaching for some of it, but it was obvious that his body was becoming too wide for the man to reach everywhere.

Such a sight gave Jon an instant erection like nothing else he had experienced around Daniel before. He followed suit, sitting down as fast as he could in order to disguise it.

“You look no different at all,” Daniel laughed, finally content to move on.

“Excuse me!” Jon joked, raising his arms and flexing his biceps in his tight shirt. “These guns have never been bigger, actually!” He tried breathing deeply, but his sudden arousal was so much to cope with. Perhaps it had blended with his nerves about starting a new job, but he almost felt out of control; as if his mouth could run away and say something horny and stupid at any moment. “So, are we going out for lunch today, like we did in the old days?”

Daniel grinned. “Actually, I think Gina has plans for you over lunch.”

“Well… fuck her,” Jon shot back impatiently. He hadn’t felt this aroused since he was a teenager. “I want to catch up with my old buddy instead.”

Daniel’s smirk was something new entirely. He seemed to have a confidence about him in this new body; not so shy and humorless as he had once been. He inhabited the life of a massively obese man in a way that only made him ever more enticing. “How about dinner instead?” he asked. “Do you have plans after work?”

“No,” Jon lied, deciding to cancel everything that stood in his way.

After the long day, Jon headed straight into Daniel’s office to find that the large man wasn’t there. 

Jon curiously took a tour of the room, spotting several candy wrappers in the little trash bucket. He pulled open the drawers, failing to find anything useful for an office worker. All of them were filled with the very worst, most fattening snacks available. Jon laughed as he sank his hand down into the drawer, lifting some out and dropping them like confetti back inside. “Oh, Piggy!” he sighed in helpless lust. “What the fuck have you been doing to yourself!”

Thankfully, Jon soon returned from the bathroom and the pair of them were quickly making their way to a cab that Daniel had booked. It was obvious that the big man walked very little around this city.

“So, where is good to eat around here these days?” Jon asked, looking out of the window and seeing that so much had changed.

“There’s an all-you-can-eat place right by my apartment,” Daniel explained. His mouth seemed to water at the mere mention of food and he swallowed the saliva that was building up. “I thought we could go there.”

Jon nodded in agreement, excited to see just what kind of damage a big man like Daniel could do in a buffet these days. He smiled to himself, wondering whether Daniel had bought his apartment in this area because of the buffet place only a few feet from his building, or whether it had all been one giant coincidence. He suspected not.

“Evening, Danny,” sighed the server as they turned up, giving Jon the impression that the fat man’s appearance was just a regular part of the monotony of her daily routine. “A table for two tonight, huh?”

Daniel stepped aside a little more so that Jon could be seen and he introduced him. They headed to a table that was referred to as Daniel’s ‘usual spot’ and she left them be whilst she got their drinks.

“We’re a little early tonight,” Daniel whispered. “The good dishes usually come out at six.”

“You really know your stuff!” Jon laughed, watching as Daniel’s greedy eyes scrutinised the staff as they prepared the buffet for the changeover; listening as the saliva was building in the guy’s gluttonous mouth and witnessing him having to swallow it down several times. However, the fat man was not wrong. Within minutes, the buffet was filled with fresh new dishes, and the two men got up to start. 

Jon followed on behind, eager to take in the view of Daniel from behind. Just what the hell had happened to the guy’s hips? From this angle, the man was so incredibly wide! His butt had swollen and stretched itself outwards in all directions; the fat in his love handles bouncing and rocking with each step he took, slowly untucking his work shirt. The glutton seemed like such an expert at filling his plate, selecting the best parts of the buffet and leaving the cheaper fillings, such as the rice and the breads. It was no secret that he knew what he was doing, openly boasting about how much he had read up on how to get the best value out of these types of places as the pair of them sat down.

Jon ate slowly, whilst Daniel was up and down, fetching himself more and more. So incredibly turned on by this vast display of greed, Jon fiddled in his pockets, trying to reposition his erection so that he could stand up when needed and not expose his arousal to everyone else in the restaurant. After three years of being in a relationship with a girl from his office, Jon hadn’t explored anything to do with this world of eating and weight gain, and it was only after this encounter that he fully understood just how linked to his own sexuality it all was: nothing turned him on more.

“I am STUFFED!” Daniel chuckled about fifty minutes later, having gorged his way through most of the main courses on offer, as well as several of the dessert items. He slapped his hand on his lage stomach, not seeming to notice how strained the buttons had become.

“You’re leaving those?” Jon asked, surprised to see two macrons left to the side of Daniel’s final plate.

Daniel looked down at them. He sighed and gave an uncomfortable burp. “It’s okay. They’re not so good from here anyway.”

“Even so…” Jon smiled mischievously. “You can’t ruin your clean sweep. You’ve cleared every other plate.”

Daniel grinned. “I’d forgotten how much you used to encourage me in the early days,” he laughed. Even so, he looked down at those macrons, sighed in fullness and then shook his head. “No,” he winced. “Trust me. I’m done!”

“Surely there must be something I can do to persuade you?” Jon asked, trying to think on his feet. More than anything else, he didn’t quite feel ready to stand up and leave just yet. “How about I buy you a coffee on the way to work each morning next week?”

Daniel pulled a face. He’d never been a great lover of coffee.

“I’ll buy you a new plant for your desk,” Jon tried again, having noticed that Daniel’s current office plant was withered and mostly dead. He searched through his memory to try and recall the things used to motivate Daniel back when he knew him best. “I’ll let you feel my bigger biceps,” he offered cheekily, flexing them and never expecting his bribe to work.

Daniel considered for only a second, then he nodded and threw a macron straight into his mouth at a speed Jon had not been expecting, laughing, even with his mouth full, at Jon’s shocked expression. He then reached across to get a feel of a stunned Jon’s muscle. “Okay,” the fat man nodded. “They definitely are bigger than last time,” he admitted, mumbling after swallowing most of it down. 

Jon grinned. He couldn’t believe that it had worked. Then again, Daniel had always claimed to be obsessed with his body in those early days. 

Still one macron sat on the plate, unclaimed. “Eat that other one for me and…” Jon pondered, considering whether he should go as far as he was now considering, “...I’ll let you feel up my glutes next.”

Daniel’s pig-like eyes widened in surprise. He raised an eyebrow and smirked. Then, although he had not been able to bring himself to even swallow the last of the previous macron, he pushed the final one into his mouth, accepting the offer; forcing himself to chew and swallow them both down at long last.

Nothing was said about heading back to Daniel’s place afterwards. The two men simply got up and started walking until they reached the fat man’s building. There, they got into the elevator and made their way up to the top floor, all whilst making inconsequential small talk to fill the time.

Daniel’s apartment was large and flashy. He had great views over the city and his kitchen was straight out of a home decor magazine. But the place was also scruffy and filled with furniture that was oversized and awkwardly positioned. Take out boxes sat on the top of his coffee table, providing the slight stale odour that filled the space. However, Daniel simply seemed oblivious to it, heading straight to a massive chair in front of his TV and sighing with relief as his massive form dropped into it with a confidence in its constriction that did not seem warranted.

“This is where a lot of the magic happens,” Daniel smiled. “I’ve pushed so many calories into myself right here, in this chair.”

Jon laughed. “Not just you pushing them in either, I bet,” he teased. “You don’t grow a gut like that without a lot of encouragement.”

Daniel nodded and smirked with a confidence in himself that Jon had never seen in him before today. “Yeah,” he agreed, looking around the space and rubbing the top of his fat gut. “I’ve had a lot of fun in this apartment.” His eyes then locked on Jon’s. “And now it’s time for you to pay the piper,” he joked, beckoning him over. “That last macron wasn’t easy!”

“You want to touch the finest glutes in the city?” Jon laughed. He wanted to act casual so that he could still walk out of there with his head held high should this not go in the direction he desperately hoped it would.

Jon made his way over, positioning himself so that his back was turned to Daniel and his pert butt within reach. He heard the fat man grunt as he repositioned himself on the edge of his seat, then, two chubby hands reached out and moulded themselves onto the shapely, firm masses, exploring every inch.

Both men gave a sigh as all the pent up sexual tension finally started to release. Jon felt himself being pulled back a little more by his belt. Then, even Daniel’s nose was rolling over the material, his lips kissing each glute in turn. “Beautiful!” the fat man whispered.

It was at that point that things became all too much for Jon. His hands reached down to his belt and he unbuckled faster than he ever had in his life, pulling his thick erection out and handling it in the way he had wanted to all day. He spun around, staring only at Daniel’s greedy little mouth. “Open up, Fat Boy…” he growled, letting his lust completely get the better of him.

Despite his coarseness, Daniel’s mouth slid straight over the hardness and began working straight away; his hands holding firmly onto Jon’s strong hips and pulling him in closer. 

Jon moaned aloud. It never failed to catch him off guard how great guys often were at giving head, but three years in a monogamous relationship had also lowered his expectations when it came to genuine sexual thrills like this. Daniel’s mouth was so filled with saliva, his tongue so expertly gifted at working whatever was placed on top of it; Jon felt like he could climax in no time at all. Instead, he pulled back, quickly undressing himself further and allowing Daniel to do the same once he stood back up again.

Suddenly, all that incredible flesh was being unveiled. Even after staring at Daniel’s body for so much of the day, Jon had never imagined that the guy’s nipples would sag quite so much. His giant gut was so heavy and squishy, his love handles rolling into several folds of fat that wrapped around into his back. His arms were so large and puffy, his thighs so genuinely overfilled with blubber, his calves looked positively tiny and weak in comparison. But then Daniel lifted his gut a little and reached under to grab at his almost hidden hardness, his forearm jiggling all the lard in his stomach as the fat man attempted to pleasure himself.

“Are you impressed?” Daniel asked, knowing that despite how hot and muscular Jon was, it was his own body that was the star of the show right at that moment.

“Yes,” Jon replied, tugging at himself as he watched Daniel doing the same.

“Did you ever imagine I’d get this big?” he asked next, clearly arousing himself more with his own questions.

Jon shook his head. “I didn’t think you had it in you to get this big,” he answered honestly; awe-struck by how extremely obese his former boss now was. “This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen!”

Daniel moaned and tugged at himself more, grunting with the effort of having to reach his chubby hand into his groin. “I’m nowhere near finished yet, either,” he continued, grabbing at his stomach fat with his other hand. “I still want so much more!”

Jon sighed in appreciation of the display in front of him. There were so many rolls and folds. He could spend weeks exploring and fucking every single one; never getting bored.

Stepping closer to Daniel, Jon slipped his large hand around the back of the big man’s head and pulled him in for the most lust-filled kiss of his life.

“Don’t worry, Fatty,” he grinned, finally having the freedom to tease Daniel just as he had always wanted. “I started you off on this journey…” he whispered, grabbing at the flab and jiggling it. “...And I’m going to be the one to finish the job!”

Daniel nodded submissively, his hand taken away from his own hardness and replaced with Jon’s strong, firm grip upon it instead. “Whatever you say,” he moaned back; his piggy little eyes already rolling back into his head at the sensation. “You’re the boss.”

Jon’s erection seemed to swell ever more. “Say that again!” he teased with excitement, manoeuvring the fat man so that they both slipped into the nearby bedroom. Daniel was spun around and he gladly fell upon the edge of the bed, his wide rump exposed.

“You’re the boss!” the large, horny man declared, spreading his legs wider, knowing exactly what he needed Jon to do next. “You’re the only boss I ever want!”

Jon marvelled at the sight before him, knowing that nothing would ever come close to exciting him in the way that this did. He lubricated and pushed himself inside, enjoying every single powerful thrust he made: the sheer scale of the man he was fucking, the way all the fat and blubber rocked and jiggled. Feeding and pounding Daniel was the only thing he ever needed.

“I should hope so!” Jon declared, slapping the wide butt that was so willingly taken. “I’ll be giving you your performance review in a couple of weeks…” he teased, starting to thrust harder and harder. “I’m going to need you to bring your A-Game appetite and really step things up for me.”

Daniel moaned and nodded in agreement; every fantasy in his kinky little brain starting to come to life.

“Your new boss is a real bastard,” Jon laughed. “He’s going to push you harder than ever before, Fatso!” 

Jon slowed his pace slightly, allowing the huge man a short relief; sliding in and out with more tenderness and caring.

“But be prepared, piggy…” Jon smiled, starting to ramp up the pace yet again; his strong thighs beginning to come into their own. “...I need results. And, I’m sure as hell going to get them…”

[annabelle--cane]

okay actually one "full kill bill" thought: I've seen a few people over time say that the smiting arc didn't work because jon kept saying he wanted to kill people but sounded deeply unenthused and pressured the whole time, and I see what that take is getting at, but I don't feel like that's a mistake. I think it is very deliberate that jon, paranoid icon, secret keeper extraordinaire, guy who constantly is just clinging onto his ability to trust by his fingernails, high avatar of Being Watched, cannot fully give in to his worst most indulgent impulses when someone he cares about is watching him, even if that person is cheering him on. he never let it slip on any recordings when he was extracting statements from strangers, and he never withheld anything like that from the tapes before, he could only like it if it was secret. the only smitings he seems to really enjoy are the first, where it was almost instinctual and he probably didn't fully know what was going to happen, and the last, where martin isn't there and he knows helen won't be making it out alive to tell any tales. his connections with other people are what keep him anchored to the world and his humanity, and it's when he loses those connections either by choice or circumstance that he slips into bastard mode.

[coldilikeit]

CONTAINS SPOILERS, ONLY SLIGHT BUT STILL, also characters explainations

Yandere DC x Pjo

_____________________________

ne thing I don't agree with most of the "Neglected reader" series is that once they realize the reader is worthy of their love, they stop loving each other???

Like there are scenarios where they will fight each other for the reader, that doesn't sit right with me, they share secrets and trauma together and trust each other with their life, that's not going to disappear because of the reader

So in my story, Batfam still loves each other despite what happened to the reader, and this love for family is crucial to future chapters

So protective Jason, at chapter five, glaring at Jon and all

AND ALSO

Most of the time the only reason Batfam loves the reader is out of pure guilt, they don't actually love the reader

Another change in my story is that, the Batfam and reader have their moments, though it's rare, the reader still makes memories with Batfam, although their painful ones

The batkids has created an image in their head that the reader is this pathetic person who was lucky enough to be born rich, and that was the holding grudge to why Batfam treated the reader badly

Yes Damian was also born rich, but he was suffering, when Damian got accustomed to Bruce's affection he felt bitter that the reader had this affection and yk

Bruce on the other hand, is raw, He got the reader when he was still building his reputation as batman, he didn't think a fling child was important, until dick came, he became a sidekick and there he decided to make you one too

To Bruce you were a convenience, just another assistant to him, and he wasn't really a father, but rather an employer, he built his relationship with Dick through being a sidekick, while having no relationship with you turned you into one for more assistance

But it doesn't mean they don't love you, of course they do, that's the main reason Bruce made you stop being a Robin in the first place, because you were a target

It's just that in their heads, you were already this insignificant person, they didn't realize how much you meant to them until you died

Even if you didn't die, if you weren't taken to Camp half-blood, they would have realized their love for you on their own

Only problem is, at camp half-blood, you were able to heal

Inside the Manor, you weren't

So chances of you forgiving them are higher when you're at camp rather than staying in the manor

The difference is also the trauma, you grew up inside the Manor since birth, you were comfortable

That's why the family didn't think to give you that much attention in the first place

That trauma is also why you don't like how your mom said "I'm giving you attention cause you're pitiful"

[astralsyst3m]

Tim Stoker is Such a fucking fun character to pick apart first of all he copes with humor and I love that.

He is however Very quick to anger when humor doesn't work.

He feels as if he has failed not only Danny but also Sasha, especially since he lost them both to the Same Entity and isn't that the fucking kicker? Losing the Two People he cared for to the same Entity. Tim will do Anything for those he trusts and once you break his trust there is no getting back in his good graces.

Even if Jon was close in a way. Jon hurt Tim, betrayed his trust but Tim in the end was a hurt and angry man who had lost the two people he cared about most and found anyone and everyone to blame.

You could even argue that he lost three people as its commonly thought that Jon and Tim did used to be friends. Tim died for revenge because he felt it was his Duty to do what he could to rid the world of the Stranger. Because He Failed Danny and He Failed Sasha and destroying that which killed them was the Only way he could avenge them, to do what was right, to show to Himself that he didn't fail them.

Tim is an Incredibly complex character who many write off as a comic relief or a sacrifice but damn if he is not the most relatable fucking person in the podcast doing all he can for those he loves. Calling out the bullshit and protecting that last bit of normalcy and hope he has however he can until he Snaps.

[dreamersworldduh]

INSUFFERABLE

• DAMIAN WAYNE x MALE READER

SUMMARY — Damian Wayne is infamous for his arrogance, icy demeanor, and undeniable lethality—a product of his strict upbringing and assassin’s training. In stark contrast, Y/N Prince embodies optimism, determination, and an infectious positivity that lights up any room he enters. On the surface, they couldn’t be more different—two polar opposites in every way. Yet, beneath it all, they share one undeniable connection.

WARNING! Swearing.

WORDS! 9.3k

AUTHOR’S NOTE! This is for @dwelkisses— it was going to be a oneshot, however, I got an idea, so don’t worry this is only part one out of three! The next one is definitely spicy…i hope you enjoy!😉

NEXT PART! TWO.

Damian Wayne has always been defined by his personality—arrogant, cold, and undeniably lethal. From a young age, he carried the deadly discipline of an assassin, a legacy inherited from his upbringing in the League of Assassins and sharpened under his father, Batman. This demeanor didn't fade as he matured into adulthood; if anything, it became more pronounced. Damian was never one to engage in idle small talk or seek companionship outside the tight-knit circle of individuals he considered family. One of the rare exceptions to his guarded nature was Jon Kent, the son of Superman and Damian's closest friend.

Damian and Jon's friendship began when they were just kids—Jon was 10, and Damian 13. Despite their contrasting personalities, the two quickly became inseparable. Jon's optimistic and good-natured demeanor served as a counterbalance to Damian's stoicism and intensity. Over the years, their bond deepened, evolving into a brotherhood that Damian fiercely protected. To Damian, Jon wasn't just a friend; he was family, someone he trusted implicitly. Nothing—and no one—could shake the foundation of their relationship.

That is, until Y/N Prince entered their lives.

Y/N, the son of Wonder Woman, was a force to be reckoned with. By the time Damian and Jon were in their early twenties, both were firmly established as heroes in their own right. No longer sidekicks, Robin and Superboy had proven themselves valuable members of the Justice League, earning the respect of their legendary predecessors. It was during this time, as Damian and Jon were navigating their roles as newly minted full-fledged heroes, that Y/N stepped onto the scene. Taking up the mantle of Wonder Boy, Y/N joined the Justice League with a striking presence and a legacy just as formidable as theirs.

Y/N's arrival would alter the dynamic between Damian and Jon in ways neither of them anticipated. What began as an exciting addition to their world would soon challenge the unshakable bond they had shared for nearly a decade.

When Jon Kent first met Y/N Prince, the connection between them was immediate and undeniable. Jon, with his open heart and innate kindness, found himself drawn to Y/N's charisma and strong-willed nature. Y/N, much like his mother Wonder Woman, carried himself with a regal confidence and a sense of purpose that was hard to ignore. He had a sharp wit and a warmth that made him effortlessly likable, even among the most intimidating of heroes. The ease with which Jon and Y/N fell into conversation—playful banter one moment, deep discussions the next—only solidified the natural chemistry between them. It wasn't long before they began forming a close bond, one rooted in mutual respect and a shared passion for justice. Jon saw in Y/N someone who could inspire him, challenge him, and understand the complexities of their unique lives as the next generation of superheroes.

Damian Wayne, however, had an entirely different reaction to Y/N. From the very first moment they crossed paths, Damian found himself bristling at Y/N's presence. To him, Y/N was everything he couldn't stand in a person: confident to the point of arrogance, outspoken, and unapologetically bold. While others might have found Y/N's charm and light-hearted attitude refreshing, Damian saw it as infuriating. Y/N's tendency to challenge him, both in strategy and personality, grated on Damian's nerves. He viewed Y/N as reckless, overly self-assured, and too quick to speak his mind without considering the consequences—a stark contrast to Damian's disciplined and calculated demeanor. It didn't help that Y/N seemed to have a knack for pushing Damian's buttons, often meeting his cold glares with a smirk or a sharp comment that only fueled the tension between them.

To Damian, Y/N represented an unwelcome disruption. He had spent years cultivating his role as one of the most respected and feared heroes of his generation, and the arrival of Wonder Boy felt like an intrusion into the dynamic he and Jon had built. Worse, Damian couldn't ignore how quickly Jon had taken to Y/N. Watching his best friend laugh and bond with someone Damian found utterly insufferable only deepened his resentment. Every interaction with Y/N felt like a battle of wills, a constant clash between their polar-opposite personalities.

What Jon saw as chemistry and camaraderie, Damian saw as an unnecessary complication. And while Jon was blissfully unaware of the storm brewing beneath the surface, Damian's simmering dislike for Y/N threatened to become a fault line in their once-unshakable friendship.

Y/N often found himself tagging along with Jon and Damian during their downtime, something that seemed natural given his growing friendship with Jon. Whether it was meeting up in the Watchtower's communal areas, training together in the Justice League's facilities, or teaming up on missions, Y/N's presence became a regular occurrence in their lives. To Jon, this was a welcome development—he enjoyed Y/N's company and appreciated the way their personalities meshed so effortlessly. But for Damian, Y/N's inclusion felt like an unwanted intrusion. Every moment spent with Y/N only solidified his dislike for the newcomer.

Damian, never one to mask his feelings, made no effort to hide his disdain. At first, it was subtle: curt responses when Y/N tried to engage him in conversation, a cold demeanor whenever they were in the same room. But as time went on, Damian's distaste became more pronounced. He began to act as though Y/N didn't exist, outright ignoring him in nearly every setting.

During missions, Damian treated Y/N as if he were invisible. He would issue orders to Jon, coordinate strategies with the team, and even acknowledge the input of lesser-known members of the Justice League, but never Y/N. If Y/N offered a suggestion, Damian would dismiss it with stony silence or carry on as if he hadn't spoken at all. It wasn't just Damian's words—or lack thereof—that stung; it was the way he refused to even look at Y/N, as though acknowledging his presence would be a waste of effort.

The cold shoulder extended beyond the battlefield. In the Watchtower's common areas, when Y/N would enter the room and wave in greeting, Damian would pointedly avert his gaze, pretending not to notice. If Y/N sat down across from him during meetings or meal breaks, Damian would remain stoically focused on his food, a datapad, or whatever was in front of him, blatantly ignoring Y/N's attempts to spark conversation. Even the simplest acts of civility were beyond Damian's reach—no nod of acknowledgment, no casual glance, no sense that Y/N was even there.

For Y/N, this behavior was both baffling and frustrating. He couldn't understand what he had done to earn such hostility, and Jon, ever the peacemaker, often tried to downplay Damian's actions, insisting that his best friend would warm up eventually. But the longer this dynamic persisted, the clearer it became that Damian's animosity toward Y/N was deeply rooted, and it wasn't going away anytime soon. Y/N wasn't just dealing with the coldness of a teammate—he was facing the icy walls of a man determined to freeze him out entirely.

Growing up as the son of Wonder Woman, Y/N had always believed that handling difficult personalities came with the territory. He had spent his entire life watching his mother navigate tense situations with poise and grace, including her unique dynamic with Batman. If she could deal with Bruce Wayne's brooding intensity and unyielding attitude, surely Y/N could handle Damian Wayne's coldness. At least, that's what he thought at first.

However, as time went on, Y/N found Damian's hostility more grating than he'd anticipated. The constant dismissiveness, the refusal to even acknowledge his presence, and the palpable tension during every interaction wore on him. Initially, Y/N tried to brush it off, reasoning that Damian's attitude wasn't worth his energy. But after weeks of icy silence and blatant disregard, Y/N's patience began to wear thin. He wasn't one to take disrespect lying down, and while he admired his mother's diplomacy, he also inherited her fierce sense of self-respect. If Damian wanted to play this game, Y/N was more than ready to meet him halfway.

Gradually, Y/N's demeanor toward Damian began to shift. What had once been attempts at friendly conversation turned into curt, one-word responses. If Damian was going to act like Y/N didn't exist, Y/N saw no reason to extend him the courtesy of warmth or kindness. Around Jon, Y/N was his usual self—friendly, engaging, and full of camaraderie. But the moment Damian entered the room, his tone would shift. He spoke only when absolutely necessary, and even then, his words were clipped and to the point. Any attempts Jon made to involve both of them in a conversation were met with polite but firm refusals from Y/N. It wasn't outright hostility, but it was clear to everyone in the room that Y/N was no longer interested in bridging the gap with Damian.

Still, Y/N wasn't entirely closed off to the idea of resolving their differences. Deep down, he knew that tension between teammates wasn't ideal, especially since they were both members of the Justice League and often worked together. He told himself that if Damian ever chose to act like an adult and address the issue, he'd be willing to have a civil conversation and bury the hatchet. But until that happened, Y/N decided he wouldn't waste his energy trying to fix something Damian clearly had no interest in repairing. For now, as far as Y/N was concerned, Damian didn't exist either.

Caught in the middle of this silent war was Jon, ever the peacemaker. Jon hated seeing his two closest friends at odds, especially since he could see the potential for them to get along if they would just make the effort. He often tried to mediate, encouraging Y/N to give Damian another chance and urging Damian to stop being so difficult. But both were stubborn in their own way, and Jon's efforts seemed to fall on deaf ears. Still, Jon felt it was his responsibility to fix the situation. Whether they liked it or not, Y/N and Damian were going to be working together for the foreseeable future. And if they were going to continue hanging out with him, Jon was determined to find a way to get them to at least tolerate each other. For now, though, he was stuck playing referee in what felt like an endless standoff between two of the most strong-willed people he knew.

Jon, ever the optimist and a firm believer in the power of friendship, decided that he'd had enough of the cold war between Damian and Y/N. Watching his two closest friends silently bristle at each other every time they were in the same room was exhausting. No matter how much he tried to smooth things over, Damian's stubborn pride and Y/N's growing indifference made it impossible to create any kind of harmony. It was clear to Jon that if things were ever going to improve, he would need to take drastic action. That's when the idea hit him—a bold, perhaps reckless plan that could either bring them closer together or completely blow up in his face.

Jon's plan was, in a word, devious. It was the kind of thing Superman would probably shake his head at, but desperate times called for desperate measures. If Damian and Y/N weren't willing to break the ice on their own, Jon would force them into a situation where they had no choice but to work together—or at the very least, talk to each other. The idea was risky, but Jon was confident in his ability to execute it. After all, he knew both Damian and Y/N better than anyone else. If anyone could pull this off, it was him.

The first step of Jon's plan was to engineer a situation that would leave Damian and Y/N completely reliant on one another. He knew that forcing them to cooperate under high-stakes circumstances might break down the walls they'd both built. Whether it was an "accidental" team-up during a mission or a carefully planned training exercise gone awry, Jon was determined to create an environment where they couldn't avoid each other. His goal was simple: put them in a situation so challenging that they'd have no choice but to set aside their differences and start seeing each other as allies.

Jon spent hours crafting his strategy, carefully considering every detail. He knew Damian would see through anything too obvious, and Y/N wouldn't take kindly to being manipulated. The plan had to feel organic—like fate or coincidence rather than a deliberate setup. He toyed with the idea of isolating them in the middle of a mission, perhaps arranging for an "equipment failure" or creating a scenario where they'd need to rely on each other's unique skills to succeed. Alternatively, he considered a more personal approach, such as tricking them into spending time together outside of work, under the guise of a casual outing. The possibilities were endless, but the goal remained the same: force them into a situation where they couldn't ignore each other.

As Jon finalized his plan, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbled within him. He knew this could go one of two ways. In the best-case scenario, the shared experience would break the tension between Damian and Y/N, helping them see each other in a new light. In the worst-case scenario, it could escalate their animosity and make things even worse. But Jon was willing to take the risk. Damian and Y/N were two of the most important people in his life, and he wasn't about to let their stubbornness ruin what could be an incredible friendship.

With his plan in place, Jon couldn't help but grin. Whether they liked it or not, Damian and Y/N were about to be thrown into the deep end of this manufactured bonding experience. All Jon could do now was hope for the best—and maybe prepare for the fallout if things didn't go according to plan.

It was a quiet afternoon when both Y/N and Damian were immersed in their civilian lives, enjoying a rare moment of normalcy away from their heroic duties. That peace was abruptly shattered when they each received an encrypted video message from Jon. The message was short and jarring, filled with static and tension. On the screen, Jon appeared disheveled, his usually calm and composed demeanor replaced by clear distress. "I'm in trouble," he said urgently, before the video abruptly cut out.

A second voice, cold and unfamiliar, replaced Jon's. "Catch him if you can," it taunted, before leaving behind a cryptic clue. The video ended abruptly, leaving both Y/N and Damian frozen with the same realization—Jon was missing, and he needed their help.

Y/N reacted immediately, his heart pounding with worry for his best friend. He raced to the Watchtower, intending to alert Superman, Batman, or even Wonder Woman about the situation. If Jon was in danger, they would surely have the resources and experience to track him down quickly. Damian, however, took a different approach. True to his calculated and independent nature, he focused on the clue. He knew Jon better than most, and he trusted his own ability to solve the mystery without needing to involve anyone else.

When Y/N arrived at the Watchtower, he was met by his cousin, Wonder Girl, who delivered disappointing news. Most of the Justice League, including Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman, were off-world dealing with an intergalactic crisis. There would be no immediate backup, no cavalry to call in. Y/N realized he had no choice but to handle the situation himself. With determination fueling him, he turned his attention to the clue left in Jon's message. If no one else was available to help, then he would figure this out on his own.

Meanwhile, Damian had already begun decoding the riddle. He pieced together fragments of the message, tracing Jon's likely location with methodical precision. As always, he worked alone, fully confident in his ability to solve the puzzle faster than anyone else. He hadn't even considered the possibility of teaming up with Y/N—or anyone, for that matter.

Their paths inevitably crossed when the first clue led them both to the same location: a desolate warehouse on the outskirts of the city. Y/N, frustrated but determined, had tracked the lead on his own, and the last person he expected to run into was Damian Wayne. The former assassin was already there, standing amidst the shadows of the abandoned building, his arms crossed as he glared at Y/N.

"You've got to be kidding me," Damian muttered, his tone dripping with disdain. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Y/N shot back, equally annoyed. "I'm trying to find Jon. You know, our friend?"

Damian rolled his eyes. "I don't need your help. I've got this under control."

Y/N bristled but forced himself to remain calm. "This isn't about you or me. It's about Jon. If we waste time arguing, we might miss something important."

Despite their mutual dislike, both knew Y/N had a point. The tension between them was palpable, but neither was willing to let their animosity get in the way of finding Jon. Reluctantly, they began to compare notes, realizing that their separate investigations had led them to the same conclusion. The first clue was a riddle referencing a hidden location within the city—a clue they would need to solve together if they had any hope of finding Jon before it was too late.

As they pieced the puzzle together, the friction between them remained, but so did an unspoken understanding. Neither would admit it, but deep down, both Y/N and Damian knew that working together—however reluctantly—might be the only way to save the one person they both cared about.

Inside the abandoned warehouse, the dim light flickered above as Y/N and Damian combed through the surroundings for any sign of a clue. Their search led them to a dusty table where an old projector sat, wires trailing to a small screen mounted on the wall. The machine whirred to life as they approached, displaying a haunting image that made Y/N's breath catch in his throat.

It was Jon—unconscious, his head slumped forward and his hands bound tightly behind his back. His normally vibrant face was pale, and a trickle of dried blood could be seen on his temple. The sight made Y/N's chest tighten with worry, and he clenched his fists at his sides. Next to him, Damian's sharp eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening as his mind raced to assess Jon's condition.

Before either of them could fully process the image, the familiar chilling voice echoed through the room, distorted and mocking. "Ah, you're quicker than I expected," it said with a sinister chuckle. "But Jon is slipping further from your grasp. Can you save him before it's too late? Let's see how clever you really are."

The image of Jon flickered and disappeared, replaced by a second clue. This time, it was a cryptic riddle accompanied by a fragmented map. The voice laughed once more before the screen went black, leaving Y/N and Damian standing in tense silence.

Y/N was the first to speak, his voice laced with urgency. "We don't have time for this. We need to figure out this clue now." He leaned over the table, studying the map intently.

Damian, already annoyed by Y/N's presence, scoffed. "Don't state the obvious," he said coldly. "I'm more than capable of handling this without your input."

Y/N straightened, fixing Damian with an incredulous look. "Are you serious right now? Jon's life is on the line, and you're still acting like this is some solo mission."

"Because it would be easier if it were," Damian snapped back, his tone cutting. "At least then I wouldn't have to deal with distractions."

"Distractions?" Y/N shot back, his voice rising. "You mean the person actually trying to help you save your best friend? Grow up, Damian."

Their voices echoed in the empty warehouse as they butted heads, their tempers flaring with each passing moment. Damian's icy demeanor clashed with Y/N's fiery resolve, and neither was willing to back down.

"You're wasting time," Damian said, his voice sharp as a blade. "If you stopped talking and started thinking, we might actually make progress."

Y/N glared at him, stepping closer. "And maybe if you weren't so full of yourself, we'd have figured this out already. Newsflash, you're not the only one who cares about Jon."

For a moment, it seemed like their argument might escalate further, but the sound of the projector powering down snapped them out of it. Y/N exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Fine," he said tersely, pointing to the riddle. "Let's focus on this."

Reluctantly, Damian turned his attention back to the clue, his eyes scanning the words with sharp precision. The riddle referenced a "silent guardian of the city" and "a beacon in the darkness," cryptic phrases that seemed to point to a specific location. Damian muttered the lines under his breath, analyzing each word with practiced skill. Meanwhile, Y/N focused on the fragmented map, trying to piece together the missing sections to get a clearer picture of their next destination.

Though they worked in tense silence, the underlying friction between them remained. Every now and then, Damian would scoff at Y/N's suggestions, dismissing them with a cutting remark, while Y/N would respond with an exasperated sigh or a pointed glare. Yet, despite their clashing personalities, they slowly began to make progress.

"Wait," Y/N said suddenly, pointing to a section of the map. "This part here—it's an old signal tower. It matches the 'beacon in the darkness' part of the riddle."

Damian glanced at it, his lips pressed into a thin line. "And the 'silent guardian' could refer to the gargoyle statues near the tower. It's a stretch, but it fits."

Their eyes met briefly, a reluctant acknowledgment that they were finally on the same page. Without another word, they grabbed their gear and prepared to head to the next location. The tension between them was far from resolved, but for Jon's sake, they managed to set it aside—at least for now. As they left the warehouse, the image of Jon's unconscious form lingered in their minds, driving them forward despite their animosity.

Y/N and Damian raced through the city streets toward the old signal tower, the weight of Jon's plight pressing heavily on their shoulders. The abandoned structure loomed in the distance, its silhouette cutting a stark figure against the setting sun. Despite their mutual animosity, the urgency of the situation forced them to move in tandem, their shared determination to rescue Jon driving them forward.

The signal tower, long out of commission, was eerily quiet when they arrived. Its rusted exterior and cracked windows spoke of years of neglect. Y/N and Damian exchanged a wary glance before stepping inside, their footsteps echoing in the vast, hollow space. The interior was dimly lit by beams of sunlight filtering through the broken windows, casting long shadows across the dusty floor. The air smelled of mildew and rust, and every creak of the floorboards seemed louder than it should have been.

"This place is a dump," Y/N muttered, scanning the area for any sign of the third clue.

"Stay focused," Damian snapped, already moving toward a set of stairs leading to an upper platform. "They wouldn't lead us here without a reason."

As they searched the area, Y/N's frustration grew. There were no obvious signs of a clue—no markings, no hidden compartments, nothing that pointed to their next step. Meanwhile, Damian methodically examined the room, his sharp eyes scanning every corner. The silence between them was heavy, broken only by the occasional shuffle of boots on the dusty floor.

Then, Damian's eyes narrowed. "There," he said, pointing to a small console embedded in the wall. It looked out of place among the decayed equipment, its sleek design suggesting it had been installed recently. Y/N followed Damian over to the console, and together they examined it. A faint glow emanated from the screen, displaying a single phrase: "Enter if you dare."

Before either of them could react, the floor beneath their feet shifted. There was a loud metallic groan, and suddenly the ground gave way. Y/N and Damian plunged downward, landing with a heavy thud in a dark, enclosed space.

The room they found themselves in was small and suffocating, the walls lined with reinforced steel that shimmered faintly in the dim light. A thick, mechanical hum filled the air, suggesting some kind of power source nearby. Y/N groaned as he pushed himself to his feet, brushing dust off his jacket.

"Great," Y/N said, his voice tinged with irritation. "A trap. Just what we needed."

"Obviously," Damian retorted, already examining the walls with meticulous precision. "Stay quiet. I'm thinking."

Y/N rolled his eyes but held back a comment. Instead, he stepped toward one of the walls, his frustration bubbling over. Without a second thought, he drew back his fist and unleashed a powerful punch, his super strength making the air ripple with the force of his strike. The impact reverberated through the room, but when the dust settled, the wall remained completely intact—untouched, as if nothing had happened.

Damian turned, one eyebrow raised in a mix of annoyance and amusement. "Impressive," he said dryly. "But if brute force worked, don't you think they'd have planned for that? This isn't just reinforced steel. It's likely lined with a composite that absorbs kinetic energy. You're wasting your time."

Y/N clenched his fists, his frustration mounting. "Well, excuse me for trying to get us out of here while you stand there doing nothing."

Damian ignored the jab, running his fingers along the wall's edges, searching for any hidden seams or mechanisms. "The people behind this aren't amateurs," he said coolly. "They've thought this through. If we're going to get out, we'll need to find the weak point in their design—not punch blindly like an idiot."

Y/N bit back a retort, his jaw tightening. "Fine. What's your brilliant plan, then?"

Damian didn't respond immediately, instead focusing on a faint indentation in the corner of the room. "Here," he said finally. "This looks like an access panel. If we can pry it open, we might be able to disable the locking mechanism."

Y/N moved closer, his super strength finally useful as he pulled at the panel's edges. With a metallic screech, the panel came loose, revealing a tangle of wires and circuits. Damian knelt beside it, his sharp eyes quickly identifying the control system.

"Just don't touch anything," Damian said as he began to work. "One wrong move and this whole room could collapse on us."

Y/N crossed his arms but held his tongue, silently watching as Damian's deft fingers worked the wires. Despite his irritation with the former assassin, Y/N couldn't deny Damian's skill. He had an uncanny ability to remain calm under pressure, a sharp mind that seemed to thrive in moments like this.

As Damian worked, Y/N's thoughts drifted to Jon. The image of his unconscious friend flashed in his mind, spurring him to action. "Hurry up," Y/N said, his voice tight with worry. "Jon doesn't have time for this."

"I'm aware," Damian replied curtly, not looking up. "If you stop hovering, I might be able to work faster."

The tension between them remained, but their shared goal kept them focused. Whatever lay ahead, they knew they would have to rely on each other to escape this trap and save Jon before it was too late.

Damian's hands moved with practiced precision as he worked on the wires inside the access panel. His brow furrowed in concentration, his sharp mind racing to bypass the security system and unlock the door. Y/N stood nearby, arms crossed and eyes trained on the former assassin, silently willing him to work faster. The room's faint hum grew louder, as if mocking their predicament, and the tension between them was thick enough to cut with a blade.

Suddenly, the sound of static filled the air, making both Y/N and Damian freeze. A distorted voice, the same one that had taunted them earlier, crackled through hidden speakers in the room.

"Nice try, Damian," the voice sneered, dripping with amusement. "But you really think I'd make it that easy? This isn't about hacking or brute strength. No, the two of you have a... different challenge to overcome."

Y/N's head snapped toward the ceiling, his expression twisting in confusion. "What the hell are you talking about?" he demanded, his voice echoing off the steel walls. "What challenge?"

The voice chuckled, a low, unsettling sound. "You've both been running around, bickering like children while Jon's life hangs in the balance. It's pathetic, really. You're supposed to be heroes, yet you can't even hold a civil conversation."

Damian's jaw tightened, his hands dropping from the panel as he glared upward. "If you think this is the time for games, you're sorely mistaken," he said coldly. "Release us, or I'll—"

"You'll do nothing," the voice interrupted, sharp and mocking. "The only way you're getting out of here is if you two start acting like normal human beings for once. Talk. Get to know each other. Drop the egos and actually communicate. Until you do, this room will remain your prison."

Y/N blinked, his brow furrowing deeply. "Wait, what?" he said, his voice tinged with disbelief. "You want us to... what, have a heart-to-heart?"

The voice laughed again, the sound grating on both their nerves. "Exactly! You're not leaving until you prove you can work together. Think of it as... team-building."

Damian's glare darkened, and he turned his attention back to the panel. "This is absurd. I'm not wasting time playing your ridiculous games."

"Oh, you'll play," the voice said with a knowing edge. "Because if you don't, Jon won't be the only one in danger. And don't bother trying to override the system. This room is designed to outsmart even you, Damian Wayne."

Y/N looked between Damian and the ceiling, his frustration boiling over. "This is insane," he muttered, pacing the room. "We don't have time for this. Jon is out there, and we're stuck here because someone thinks we need to 'bond'?"

Damian growled under his breath, refusing to acknowledge Y/N's comment as he crouched back down to inspect the panel. "Ignore the voice," he said coldly. "It's just trying to manipulate us."

The voice chuckled again. "Oh, you're so predictable, Damian. Always trying to brute-force your way through a problem. Newsflash: that won't work this time. You both need to figure out what's more important—your petty grudge or your best friend's life."

Y/N stopped pacing, his fists clenched at his sides. He looked over at Damian, his frustration warring with the nagging sense that the voice might have a point. "This is ridiculous," he said, exhaling sharply. "But if this is what it takes to get out of here and save Jon, then fine. Let's talk."

Damian didn't respond immediately, his fingers still working at the panel's wires. But the futility of his efforts was becoming increasingly apparent. The walls hummed ominously, as if to emphasize the voice's claim that there was no escape without cooperation.

"Damian," Y/N pressed, his voice firmer now. "We don't have a choice."

Damian's hands paused, his jaw tightening in frustration. He hated being backed into a corner, and even more, he hated the idea of bending to someone else's demands. But as much as he despised admitting it, Y/N was right. With a reluctant sigh, he stood and turned to face Y/N, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Fine," Damian said tersely. "Let's get this over with."

The voice cackled triumphantly. "Good. Now, let's see if you can play nice. The clock's ticking."

Both Y/N and Damian exchanged uneasy glances, their mutual dislike momentarily eclipsed by the weight of their predicament. Neither knew exactly what was expected of them, but one thing was clear: they had no choice but to confront their differences and figure it out together.

Y/N stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall, his jaw clenched as he stared off into the distance. Damian, on the other hand, had returned to studying the panel, though his movements were slower now, as if he were only going through the motions. Neither of them seemed willing to speak, the weight of their shared animosity hanging thick in the air.

Minutes passed, each one stretching longer than the last. The silence wasn't peaceful—it was sharp, like a knife poised to strike. Y/N could feel his frustration building, his patience eroding with every second. Damian's cold, aloof attitude grated on him, and the absurdity of their situation only made it worse. They were trapped in a room because someone thought they needed to "bond," and Damian's stubborn refusal to engage wasn't helping.

Finally, Y/N couldn't take it anymore. He straightened up, his eyes locking onto Damian's rigid form. "You know what? This is your fault," he said, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

Damian didn't even look up, his focus seemingly fixed on the wires in front of him. "I don't have time for your whining," he said flatly.

Y/N scoffed, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. "Oh, I'm not whining," he shot back, his tone sharp with irritation. "I'm just pointing out the obvious. We're stuck in here because of you."

That got Damian's attention. He turned his head slightly, his sharp eyes narrowing as they met Y/N's glare. "Excuse me?" he said, his voice low and dangerous.

"You heard me," Y/N said, crossing his arms. "This whole situation—us being trapped, Jon being in danger—it all comes back to you and the way you act. We're supposed to be adults, Damian, but you act like a child every time we're in the same room."

Damian stood up slowly, his movements deliberate, his eyes cold and calculating. "I act like a child?" he repeated, his voice tinged with mockery. "That's rich coming from someone who can't stop blaming others for their problems."

Y/N stepped closer, refusing to back down. "You ignore me, dismiss me, act like I don't exist—and for what? Because I had the audacity to show up and be friends with Jon? That's why we're here, Damian. Because instead of acting like a mature adult, you've been throwing this petty grudge around like we're still in grade school."

Damian's jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "You have no idea what you're talking about," he said icily. "You don't know me, and you don't understand anything about the dynamics at play here."

"Because you won't let anyone get close enough to understand," Y/N countered, his voice rising. "You've spent so much time building walls and pushing people away that you can't even see how ridiculous this is. I'm not your enemy, Damian, but you sure as hell treat me like one."

The room seemed to grow even smaller as the two of them stared each other down, the tension crackling like static electricity. For a moment, it looked as though Damian might lash out, his expression hard and unyielding. But instead, he turned away, his shoulders stiff as he tried to bury himself in the wires again.

"This conversation is a waste of time," Damian said coldly, though there was a faint edge to his voice now, a hint of something more vulnerable hidden beneath the surface.

"Yeah, because God forbid you admit you're wrong about something," Y/N snapped, his frustration boiling over. "We're trapped in here because of your ego. If you'd just been willing to act like an adult from the beginning, we wouldn't be in this mess."

Damian said nothing, but the silence that followed was heavier than before, filled with unspoken words and unresolved tension. Y/N exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he stepped back, his anger giving way to exhaustion.

"Look," Y/N said finally, his voice softer now but still firm. "We don't have to like each other, but we're stuck here. And Jon's out there, counting on us. So maybe, just maybe, you could stop acting like the world revolves around you and try actually working with me for once."

Damian didn't respond immediately, his head bowed as if he were still focused on the panel. But Y/N noticed the subtle shift in his posture, the way his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. It wasn't much, but it was enough to give Y/N hope that maybe, just maybe, they could start moving forward.

Y/N wasn't done. The frustration that had been building inside him for months spilled out like a flood, unchecked and relentless. His voice echoed off the steel walls as he paced back and forth, throwing pointed words at Damian with every step.

"You know what really gets me, Damian?" Y/N said, his tone sharp and unwavering. "It's not even that you're rude or dismissive—though, trust me, that's annoying enough. It's the fact that you act like this for no reason! You can't stand being in the same room as me, you ignore me, you snap at me, and for what? Because I exist? Because I'm friends with Jon? Because I dare to breathe the same air as you? It's childish, Damian. It's ridiculous."

Damian stood rigid by the access panel, his fists clenched at his sides. His jaw was so tight it looked like he might crack a tooth, and his usually impassive face was marred by a storm of emotions he couldn't fully suppress. But Y/N wasn't stopping.

"I tried to be nice," Y/N continued, his pacing quickening. "I tried to get to know you, to be civil, even when you made it clear you couldn't care less. But no matter what I do, it's never good enough for you. You just shut me out and act like I'm some kind of nuisance. And for what? What did I ever do to you?"

Damian's glare sharpened, his hands twitching as if he wanted to lash out—but not physically. No, this was something deeper, something he'd been trying to keep buried. He opened his mouth to speak but snapped it shut again, his pride battling with the emotions he was so clearly trying to contain.

Y/N stopped pacing and turned to face Damian directly, his frustration boiling over into an exasperated shout. "Just say it, Damian! If you hate me so much, just say it already! Because I am sick and tired of trying to figure out what your problem is!"

That was it. Damian snapped. He whirled around to face Y/N, his green eyes blazing with a mix of anger and something else—something raw and unfiltered. "You want to know why I hate you?" he shouted, his voice louder than Y/N had ever heard it. "Fine! I hate you because I don't hate you!"

Y/N blinked, completely thrown off by Damian's words. "What?" he asked, his voice softer now, confusion replacing his anger.

Damian took a step closer, his fists still clenched, his breathing uneven. "I hate you because I don't hate you," he repeated, his tone filled with a vulnerability he couldn't hide. "Because I like you. More than I'm supposed to."

Y/N froze, his heart skipping a beat as the weight of Damian's confession hit him. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. For the first time in the endless argument, he didn't know what to say.

Damian let out a bitter laugh, running a hand through his dark hair as he looked away. "You drive me insane, Y/N," he said, his voice quieter now but still laced with emotion. "You're loud, you're impulsive, you're always trying to make everything about teamwork and feelings. And for some reason, I can't stop thinking about you. About how you always seem to be in my space, how you somehow get along with everyone—even Jon. Especially Jon."

He turned back to Y/N, his expression a mix of anger and vulnerability. "It's easier to push you away than to deal with this—whatever this is. Because if I don't, I might actually... I don't know. Care too much."

Y/N's breath hitched as he processed Damian's words. The room felt smaller, the air heavier, as he stood there, staring at the man who had spent months pushing him away only to admit that it was all a cover for something deeper.

"So, yeah," Damian said, his voice breaking slightly. "That's why I've been acting like a 'child,' as you so eloquently put it. Because I'm trying not to feel something I know I shouldn't."

Y/N was silent for a long moment, his mind racing. He hadn't expected this—not even remotely. The Damian he knew, or thought he knew, was guarded, cold, and impenetrable. But now, here he was, standing in front of Y/N, exposed in a way that made him seem almost... human.

Finally, Y/N found his voice. "Damian," he said softly, his tone devoid of its earlier anger. "You could've just told me."

Damian huffed, crossing his arms defensively. "Right. Because you would've reacted so well."

Y/N couldn't help but let out a small, incredulous laugh. "Honestly? Probably not. But this?" He gestured between them. "This whole war you've been waging? It's exhausting. For both of us."

Damian's gaze softened slightly, though his defenses were still up. "I didn't ask for this," he muttered. "I didn't ask to feel this way."

"Maybe not," Y/N said, taking a tentative step closer. "But it's there. And I'm not saying I know what to do with it either. But maybe, instead of ignoring it—or me—we could... figure it out. Together."

The room fell into silence again, but this time, it wasn't the suffocating kind. It was heavy with possibility, an unspoken understanding passing between them as they stood there, neither sure of what would happen next but both unwilling to take another step back.

Y/N stood in the silence that followed Damian's startling confession, his mind racing as the weight of the revelation sank in. Damian liked him—not in the begrudging, "I can tolerate you" kind of way, but in a way that ran deeper, more personal. The sheer thought of it was enough to throw Y/N off balance, but as he let the moment settle, something strange began to happen. He started to think back, piecing together little moments, subtle actions, and things Damian had done that, in hindsight, might've been signs all along.

The first thing that came to mind was how Damian always seemed to find reasons to be near him. At first, Y/N had thought it was just coincidence. They'd end up on the same missions, sit in the same meetings, or cross paths in the Watchtower's training rooms. But now that he thought about it, there had been too many of those "coincidences" to ignore. Damian wasn't the type to linger around people he didn't like—he went out of his way to avoid them. And yet, he'd always been there, on the edges of Y/N's space, as if he couldn't bring himself to completely stay away.

Then there were the glances. Y/N hadn't noticed them at first, but now they stood out in his mind like neon signs. Damian had a habit of watching him—not in an obvious or creepy way, but in fleeting moments when he thought no one was looking. Y/N would catch him sometimes, those sharp green eyes studying him from across the room. Whenever Y/N noticed, Damian would quickly look away, his expression shifting to one of annoyance or indifference. At the time, Y/N had written it off as Damian silently judging him. Now, though, it felt different, like there had been something unspoken hidden in those glances.

Y/N's thoughts shifted to their arguments. Damian had always been quick to snap at him, his words cutting and precise. But looking back, Y/N realized that Damian's harshness had always been oddly personal. It wasn't the kind of casual indifference Damian showed toward people he didn't care about—it was sharp, heated, and filled with an intensity that Y/N now recognized as something else entirely. It was as if Damian had been trying to push him away on purpose, as if keeping Y/N at a distance was the only way he could deal with his feelings.

And then there were the rare, fleeting moments when Damian's guard slipped. Y/N remembered one mission in particular, where he'd been injured in a fight. It wasn't anything serious, just a nasty gash on his arm, but Damian had been uncharacteristically insistent about treating it. He'd hovered closer than usual, his hands steady but his tone sharper than necessary as he muttered about "not being reckless." At the time, Y/N had thought it was just Damian being his usual bossy self. But now, he wondered if there had been more to it—if that had been Damian's way of showing he cared without actually saying it.

Y/N's mind kept turning, pulling together a series of small moments that, individually, hadn't seemed significant but now painted a much clearer picture. The way Damian's tone would soften, just slightly, when Y/N was upset. The rare times Damian had defended him in front of others, even if he did so begrudgingly. The almost imperceptible hesitation before Damian delivered one of his usual sarcastic quips, as if he were holding something back.

And then there were the times Y/N had caught Damian staring at him—not with judgment, but with something quieter, softer. Those moments had always been brief, gone as quickly as they came, but now Y/N realized they might've been the most telling signs of all.

Standing there, Y/N felt a mix of emotions swirling inside him—confusion, disbelief, and, oddly enough, a strange warmth. He'd spent so much time being frustrated by Damian's behavior, by his coldness and dismissiveness, that he'd never stopped to consider what might be hiding beneath it. Now that he saw the bigger picture, it was almost overwhelming.

"So, all this time," Y/N said slowly, his voice breaking the silence as he looked at Damian. "All those arguments, the glares, the snarky comments—that was... you trying to hide this?"

Damian's jaw tightened, his face unreadable as he averted his gaze. "I told you," he muttered, his voice low and almost defensive. "I didn't ask for this. I didn't want it."

Y/N studied him for a moment, his frustration giving way to something softer. "Maybe you didn't," he said quietly, his tone gentler now. "But it's there. And, honestly... I think I've been too blind to see it."

Damian didn't respond, but the way his shoulders stiffened told Y/N that his words had struck a chord. As the silence settled between them again, Y/N couldn't help but wonder how things might've been different if he'd noticed the signs earlier. Still, one thing was clear—this moment, as unexpected and messy as it was, was a turning point. And neither of them could turn back now.

Y/N stood there, staring at Damian, his mind a whirlwind of emotions. The weight of Damian's confession lingered in the air, heavy and unspoken, yet undeniable. For months, Y/N had been convinced that Damian's coldness was born out of dislike or resentment. But now? Now everything felt different. The idea that all of it—every glare, every snarky comment, every cutting remark—had stemmed from something deeper left Y/N both stunned and strangely intrigued.

And then there was the other thing—something Y/N had never allowed himself to dwell on until now. Damian Wayne was, objectively, one of the most attractive people Y/N had ever met. He was sharp, confident, and carried himself with an intensity that few could match. It wasn't something Y/N had actively acknowledged before, but standing here now, the realization hit him like a lightning bolt.

"So," Y/N began, his voice lighter than it had been moments before, a teasing edge creeping into his tone. "You have feelings for me, huh? You like me." He stepped a little closer, his arms crossed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I mean, I guess I can't blame you. After all, I am pretty amazing."

Damian's glare snapped up to meet Y/N's, his cheeks faintly tinged with red. "Don't push it," he muttered, his tone clipped but lacking the venom it usually carried.

Y/N's smirk widened as he continued, undeterred. "Oh, I'm just saying it makes sense. I mean, look at you—you've got the whole brooding thing going on, the perfectly messy hair, and those stupidly sharp cheekbones. Not to mention, your dad is Bruce Wayne, so it's kind of unfair that you also got the genes for being ridiculously good-looking."

Damian rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to the wall as if to avoid the conversation altogether. "Flattery isn't going to get you anywhere," he muttered, but the slight flush on his face betrayed him.

Y/N chuckled, stepping closer still until he was barely a foot away from Damian. "I'm just being honest," he said, his tone dropping to something softer, more genuine. "You're attractive, Damian. I'd have to be blind not to notice. But that doesn't mean I believe you have real feelings for me."

Damian stiffened at that, his jaw tightening. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, turning his head slightly to glance at Y/N out of the corner of his eye.

"It means," Y/N said, tilting his head, "that you've spent months pushing me away, acting like I'm the most annoying person on the planet. And now you're telling me you've had feelings for me this whole time? Forgive me if I'm a little skeptical."

Damian's lips pressed into a thin line, and Y/N could tell he was holding back a sharp retort. But instead of letting Damian retreat into himself again, Y/N decided to take a risk—a big one.

"Alright," Y/N said, a mischievous glint in his eye. "If you really have feelings for me, prove it."

Damian's brow furrowed, his confusion evident. "Prove it?" he repeated, his tone wary.

"Yeah," Y/N said, stepping even closer until they were practically toe-to-toe. His voice dropped lower, more challenging now. "Kiss me. If you really feel something for me, then kiss me."

Damian's eyes widened, and for a moment, Y/N saw a flicker of panic in his expression. But just as quickly, Damian's face hardened into a mask of composure, though his faintly reddening ears betrayed him. "That's ridiculous," Damian muttered, his voice quieter now.

"Is it?" Y/N countered, leaning in slightly, his smirk still in place. "I mean, if you don't have feelings for me, you've got nothing to lose. But if you do..." He trailed off, letting the weight of his challenge hang in the air.

Damian's hands clenched at his sides, his internal struggle plain as day. Y/N could see the gears turning in his mind, the way he was trying to weigh the risk against the reward. Finally, Damian let out a sharp exhale, his green eyes locking onto Y/N's with an intensity that sent a shiver down Y/N's spine.

"Fine," Damian said, his voice steady despite the slight tremor in his hands. "If that's what it takes to shut you up, then so be it."

Before Y/N could respond, Damian closed the small distance between them, his hand reaching up to cup the back of Y/N's neck as he pulled him into a kiss. It wasn't hesitant or uncertain—it was bold, confident, and full of all the pent-up emotion Damian had clearly been holding back for months.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise at first, but then he melted into the kiss, his hands instinctively gripping Damian's shoulders. It was like everything around them faded away—the tension, the argument, the very room they were trapped in—and all that was left was the fiery connection between them.

When Damian finally pulled back, his face was flushed, and his breathing was uneven. He met Y/N's gaze, his expression carefully guarded, though his eyes betrayed the vulnerability he was trying so hard to hide. "Satisfied?" he asked, his voice softer than usual.

Y/N stared at him for a long moment, his lips still tingling from the kiss. Then, a slow grin spread across his face. "Okay," he said, his voice a little breathless. "You win. You definitely have feelings for me."

Damian rolled his eyes, though there was no real annoyance in the gesture. "You're insufferable," he muttered, but the faint curve of his lips hinted at a smile.

"And yet, you like me anyway," Y/N shot back, his grin widening.

For the first time, the tension between them seemed to dissipate, replaced by something warmer, something that neither of them could ignore anymore.

“Well, I must admit,” the voice began, “this is… unexpected. It seems the camera in your little room went out at the most inconvenient moment. How tragic—I didn’t get to see whether or not you two actually talked like I instructed. Still, let’s see if you’ve earned your freedom anyway.”

Y/N and Damian exchanged a glance. Before either could respond, the mechanical hum of the door unlocking filled the room. Slowly, the heavy steel door creaked open, light spilling into the confined space. And there, standing in the doorway with a wide grin on his face, was none other than Jon Kent—perfectly fine, looking as though he hadn’t been in any danger at all.

“Hey, guys!” Jon greeted cheerfully, his hands stuffed casually into his jacket pockets. “Glad to see you survived my little… experiment.”

For a moment, neither Y/N nor Damian spoke, both too stunned by the sight of their supposedly kidnapped friend. Y/N was the first to recover, his confusion quickly giving way to disbelief. “Wait—what?” he said, stepping forward. “Jon, what the hell is going on? You’re fine?”

Jon laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he admitted. “The whole ‘kidnapping’ thing? That was me. Well, sort of. The voice and the clues? All part of the plan.”

Y/N blinked, utterly dumbfounded. “You planned this?” he asked incredulously. “The video, the clues, the room—everything?”

“Yep,” Jon said with a grin. “And honestly? It worked out even better than I expected.”

Y/N turned to Damian, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. Damian, however, was glaring at Jon with a look that could have melted steel. “You’re telling me,” Damian said, his voice low and icy, “that you orchestrated this entire charade? You wasted our time, made us think you were in danger, and locked us in a room—all because you thought it would be fun?”

Jon raised his hands defensively, though his grin didn’t falter. “Okay, maybe ‘fun’ isn’t the right word,” he said quickly. “But I had a good reason! You two have been at each other’s throats for months. I thought, ‘Hey, maybe if they’re forced to spend some time together, they’ll work things out.’”

Damian’s glare only darkened. “I should have let you stay in that room,” he muttered under his breath.

Y/N, on the other hand, couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, I’ll admit it,” he said, leaning against the wall. “It was a ridiculous plan. But… it wasn’t all bad.”

Jon tilted his head, looking curious. “Oh? Does that mean you two actually talked?”

Y/N shot a quick glance at Damian, who was still glaring at Jon with murderous intent. Then he shrugged casually. “Yeah, we talked,” he said, a teasing lilt to his voice. “I mean, if it weren’t for your little scheme, I never would’ve known about some… interesting developments.”

Damian’s glare snapped to Y/N, his eyes narrowing in warning. Y/N just grinned, thoroughly enjoying Damian’s discomfort.

“Interesting developments?” Jon asked, his curiosity clearly piqued. “What kind of—”

“Nothing,” Damian interrupted sharply, his voice cutting through the conversation like a blade. “It’s none of your business, Kent.”

Jon raised an eyebrow, looking between the two of them. There was an unmistakable tension in the air—one he couldn’t quite put his finger on—but before he could press further, Y/N clapped him on the shoulder.

“Let it go, Jon,” Y/N said, still grinning. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

Jon frowned but eventually relented, though the suspicion in his eyes didn’t completely fade. “Fine,” he said, his tone reluctant. “But hey, at least you’re not trying to kill each other anymore. That’s progress, right?”

Damian rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “If I ever find out you pull something like this again, Kent, you’ll be the one locked in a room.”

Jon chuckled nervously, clearly unconcerned by Damian’s threat. “Noted,” he said, turning to leave. “But hey, you can’t argue with the results.”

As Jon walked away, Y/N glanced at Damian, his grin softening into something more genuine. “You know,” he said quietly, “he’s not wrong. I mean, I still think the whole plan was insane, but… I’m glad it happened.”

Damian’s gaze shifted to Y/N, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he sighed, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. “Whatever,” he muttered, though there was no real heat behind the words.

Y/N laughed, bumping Damian’s shoulder lightly as they followed Jon out of the building.

Neither of them mentioned the confession or the kiss. It was their secret for now, something too raw and new to share with anyone else—especially Jon. But as they walked side by side, the unspoken understanding between them felt like the start of something neither of them could deny anymore.

[lumillsie]

ೃ⁀➷ all my life. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

jon snow x f!arryn!reader headcanons

╰┈➤ in which lady catelyn's niece is brought to winterfell as a ward, and grows to care for her misliked stepson.

a/n : I put jon's birth year as 283 ac, whereas in the show he was born in 281ac - so I struggled a bit on which to choose, but ultimately 283ac suited my outline for the story a bit better. the characters are still aged up as per their show versions. I've also aged down robin arryn, implying that both jon and reader would be in their adolescence during his birth, whereas in the source material, jon is only a few years older than robin.

massive, massive shoutout to @angelseraphines for being my greatest support as always, and I'm not sure if I would've gone ahead and published this if not for her encouragement 🩷

╰┈➤ in 285ac, lord jon arryn and his lady wife lysa welcomed the first of their living children.

╰┈➤ you were a beautiful babe, bright-eyed with a lovely smile, truly the apple of the hand's eye. lord arryn had been married three times in his lifetime, and you were the first of his children to live to term. the graying man was enamored with your newborn-self, and he wished for nothing but your safety and joy.

╰┈➤ for all his love for you, the hand of the king knew how venomous the environment of the royal court to be. the halls were dripping with the schemes of those who wished to advance their positions, and a man of his position knew that the only living child, let alone a girl, of his would be treated as no more than a tool of the court's most cunning.

╰┈➤ your father wished to see you happy and contented, and he wished to keep you safe from the treachery of red keep. and so, on the eve of your sixth nameday, your father wrote to the boy he once fostered in the vale, now a lord paramount in his own right. eddard stark was possibly the only man jon arryn trusted to the same extent he trusted his grace, the king. it was a difficult decision to make, but he was acting in your best interests. life at winterfell would suit his little falcon better, for you would grow strong and you'd be well-looked after. you'd be far away from the glances of power-hungry, lecherous men who wished for nothing but power. you would be with family as well, as the lady catelyn was your mother's only sister - and her children your closest blood. it was a great honour in westeros, to be trusted with the upbringing of one's child, and it was an honour lord arryn would bestow upon lord stark.

╰┈➤ lysa was resistant to the idea of sending away her only living child - the years of losing babe after babe had taken their toll on her, but she eventually relented. you would be safer in winterfell, and catelyn was still her sister - for all the distance between them.

╰┈➤ mere days after lord stark accepted your father's offer, you were sent to winterfell as a ward with a kiss on the forehead from your mother and an unusually tight hug from your father.

╰┈➤ the first couple of weeks were rough - for you were often coddled by your parents. you missed tugging on your mother's skirts and resting in your father's arms. you weren't used to the absence of them, and while you tried not to cause trouble for your caretakers - they could tell you had a hard time adjusting.

╰┈➤ there were two people in winterfell whose presence brought you comfort during that trying time. the first was your aunt, lady catelyn stark, your mother's only sister. you knew little else of winterfell, but you were comforted by the familiar shade of auburn that cascaded down her shoulders and the unique cadence to her voice that could only be ascribed to a woman born of riverrun. she wasn't your mother, but she was the closest to her anyone could get. she sung you lullabies only your mother knew, and the gentle manner in which she treated you was that of a mother towards her child. the second was the boy named after your father, jon snow. you latched onto him early on in your stay in winterfell, and nobody was quite sure as to why. perhaps it was for his name, for you often called for him - at first you were calling for your father, but jon always answered. he was two years your senior and still a boy unsure of his place in his own home - for all the love of his father and the acceptance of his siblings was matched evenly with pointed looks and whispers of bastardy, as well as lady catelyn's cold distance and her decision to ignore his existence the best he could. some would say that it was your insistence on seeking him out that helped reassure the dark-haired boy of his place. of all the nobles and commonfolk at winterfell, you gravitated towards him.

╰┈➤ at first you were content to spend your time with him in silence, and he never appeared opposed to that. within a few weeks, you were talking to him about your life back in the crownlands. you talked about your mother, and her watchful, protecting eyes that seemed to follow you everywhere. you talked about your father, and his insistence on making time for your regardless of how pertinent his responsibilities may have been at any given point. you talked about the king too, and his tales of the valour and glory he experienced side by side with jon's own father. he spoke to you too, of how lovely his father and siblings were, of winterfell's hidden gems and it's most well-known attractions. he promised to take you to the weirwood tree in the godswood when the opportunity arose, and he followed through on his promise. jon snow had become, aside for the lady catelyn whom you'd grown to love as you loved your mother, your dearest person.

╰┈➤ your aunt catelyn was not fond of your budding friendship with the reminder of her husband's indiscretion - that much was plain to see by the harsh manner in which her brows furrowed and frown of her lips, and yet she made no move to disallow it. she could see that his presence helped you get used to your new home, and soon enough you were playing with sansa, teaching arya and bran how to say your name and often fetching robb to speak with him on the way to break your fast. it pleased to see your aunt to see you and her own children bond so quickly, and she kept her dissatisfaction of your bond with jon to herself.

╰┈➤ jon was there for many of the major moments of your life, with the most notable being the first letter you'd written your parents. you had just started learning how to read in the red keep, but lord stark made sure to place you with septa mordane alongside his daughters and he kept an eye on you to make sure your education was advancing. not to mention, lord and lady stark were adamant in ensuring that you remained in touch with your parents - making sure you became literate was the most important factor in that. early on, you would ask jon to re-read your letters before you were to show them to lord stark, and your friend was always glad to do it. the faint red hue that enveloped his cheeks as he read the parts where you mentioned him to your father went unnoticed by you, too focused on making sure that your letter was presentable to lord eddard.

╰┈➤ you remained close through your childhood and closer into adolescence, but it wasn't until one fateful evening that somebody changed between the two of you.

╰┈➤ the letter you received from your parents was unlike any other you had received in the past. the words seemed to swirl on the yellowed paper, and you could feel a headache in coming. your mother had given birth to a son - a proper heir to the vale. you should have felt happy, overjoyed even. a part of you, unfortunately, felt overwhelmed by misery and you could not quite understand why. you were content in winterfell, loved even - and you knew you were never to be heir to begin with, for you were a daughter and your father had plenty of nephews to choose from. so, why did you feel so unhappy? you couldn't quite figure it out, at least not until you spoke to the one person who understood why you felt the way you did, even when you yourself could not.

╰┈➤ you'd skipped supper in favor of spending the evening by the godswood, and truthfully, you expected aunt catelyn to send robb to retrieve you when it was due time for you to return to your chambers. instead, you were surprised to see that jon came for you instead. as you rose from beneath the weirwood tree, red leaves giving way to a darkened sky, you walked side by side with jon towards the great keep. he spoke to you quietly then, of things you never dared ask and he never dared to say outloud. he spoke to you of the mystery of his mother, of wanting to know who she was and if she had wanted him, of wanting to know what kind of person she was. it was only then that the truth of your misery dawned on you. you wished to truly know your parents, and your brother - but you never truly could. for all the letters in the world cannot bring you the closeness of having your family near. robin would know your parents in the ways that you never would, and they would know him in ways that they never knew you. it was a bitter pill to swallow, but you felt as if you could breathe easier - with the realisation clear in your mind.

╰┈➤ you were grateful to jon as well, for his vulnerability with you and for his kindness. you thanked him for walking you back to your chambers, and left a chaste peck on his cheek before retreating. "I am grateful... for you, and all that you are" were the words you spoke to him. a silent acknowledgement hung in the air between the two of you. he was still your dearest friend, and you were his - but something had changed. the way in which you regarded one another had changed.

╰┈➤ it was as if the wall that you two had carefully placed between yourselves had found itself with holes in it. you were still careful, chaste even - but it was apparent to those around you that you two loved eachother. you'd make handkerchiefs for him in your embroidery classes and he'd gently hold onto your hand in the privacy of the godswood.

╰┈➤ none were truly aware of the extent of your affections for one-another, for you were both aware of your positions. you were a noble-man's daughter, entrusted in the care of jon's father who was meant to find you a suitable match and marry you off well. you were considered a bride for theon greyjoy or willas tyrell, but not jon. not a baseborn son of your noble caretaker, with no titles to his name and no inheritance to claim. furthermore, were you to rebel and marry jon without anyone's knowledge - you would soil not only the reputations of your fathers, but the goodwill and bond they shared, for lord arryn entrusted lord stark with your upbringing.

╰┈➤ you two grew closer over the following year, and it was apparent to both of you that you would not have the time to properly court one another before pursuing a way to convince your fathers to allow marriage. you were a woman grown, of marrying age. not to mention, you were lord arryn's only daughter, and a marriage to you was the most effective manner in which a noble house could strengthen its ties to the vale. lord and lady stark, with minor interference from your parents, were close to making their decision - and your aunt made sure to consult you often in subtle manners, asking whether you'd prefer to remain in winterfell when you marry, asking if you'd like to return to the red keep once you are to have a family of your own. you could not avoid your fates any longer.

╰┈➤ you pondered over what to do for a couple of days, but you knew you had no time to wait. without informing jon, you decided to plea your case to your aunt catelyn - the person you'd always felt closest to in winterfell, from the day you arrived to the present. you knew of her mislike for jon, there wasn't a singular person in winterfell who wasn't aware of it - and yet, during all these years, she hadn't said a word to you of your closeness. you asked for an audience with her in the evening, and you told her everything as you sat with your hands in hers atop the fur carpets by the roar of the fire. you confided in her about how precious jon had always been to you, of how you felt the evening of robin's birth and of how you had love for jon in a way a lady should only have love for her husband. your eyes glistened with unshed tears as you spoke to her of how you feared a betrothal, as you didn't think you could bare being married to anyone else. she listened to you as you spoke. when you finished, she leaned down to give you a kiss on the forehead and exited the room. you never got an answer from her.

╰┈➤ lady catelyn's heart ached from the weight of what she had to do. she resented jon, but she could never truly hate him as a person. she feared what his existence, and the way he looked, may mean for her own children but she could never begrudge you for befriending him. this, however, could be disastrous for all of you - and she needed to put a stop to it. she sought jon out the following morning, before it was time for the family to break their fast. she warned him of what his involvement with you could do to your reputation, and of how marrying him would cause you to lose all that you were born with. a woman has little choice in this world but to marry well, and your singular status as lord arryn's only daughter provided you with a privilege not many women could afford - a privilege you would lose were you to marry him. she urged him to put distance between the two of you, if he cared for you as you claimed he did. it was the first time she'd really acknowledged him, and her words stung - perhaps nearly as deep as her resentment and distance once did.

╰┈➤ you were unaware of the fact that this conversation had even taken place to begin with, and jon's insistence on ignoring you came as a shock. you couldn't tell what you had done wrong and you were unsure of how to reason with him.

╰┈➤ it wasn't easy for him to keep his distance from you either, but he took lady catelyn's words to heart. he truly believed that if he kept his distance from you, then you would have an easier time accepting a potential betrothal - as you were always meant to do. now that he was at a distance from you, he was free to confide in robb - and he found comfort in his brother. it was difficult, keeping his feelings from the man he trusted most to begin with and robb's brotherly teasing, as well as his unspoken understanding helped him cope with his decision. for a time at least.

╰┈➤ this tense situation and the distance between you was broken by the most tragic news of your life - your father and the hand of the king, lord jon arryn, had passed away. in addition to your grief, added pressure was placed upon your shoulders as the news of the royal family's impending visit to winterfell reached you. all of this proved to be too much for you, and you crumbled once again, for the first time since your arrival to the north. it was jon whom you turned to once again, and he couldn't find it in him to turn you down. he held you in his arms as you wept, and as you turned to look to him - you made the bold move you'd never dared to make. you leaned upwards and planted a kiss upon his lips, the salty taste of tears staining both of you. he gave in for a split second, before pulling away - remembering lady catelyn's words. "I intend to promise myself to the night's watch. I've already made my father aware of my decision" he confessed to you, his tone gentle yet final. it was then that you asked him why, your voice on the brink of shattering. he spoke to you of his conversation with lady catelyn, and of the steps he took to make sure your reputation wasn't soiled - of the steps he took to make sure you could still have a good life.

╰┈➤ you left him wordlessly then, anger coursing through every inch of your body. you were angry for a multitude of reason - at your father, for sending you to winterfell to begin with. at the world, for taking your father from you before you'd had the chance to see him once more. at your aunt catelyn and jon, for making decisions that concerned you without even thinking to consult you.

╰┈➤ you withdrew to yourself, simply going through the motions as you prepared for the king and his family to arrive at winterfell. you felt no joy at the prospect of seeing him once again, and the thought of his visit served as nothing more than a reminder that you were truly never going to see your father again. you were courteous but curt in all your exchanges, but you exchanged nothing more than pleasantries with all those around you. jon tried to speak with you often, to ensure that you two weren't going to go your separate ways on such poor terms - but he was unsuccessful. you had switched places, with you now ignoring his attempts to speak with you as he had done weeks before.

╰┈➤ the issues between you two and your pointed attempts to ignore him are once again put on hold with all the madness that follows the royal family's visit - bran's accident, your mother's letter to catelyn and the king's offer to lord stark all become topics much more pertinent than jon's upcoming departure and your potential betrothals, and the two of you settle into a peaceful coexistence within the last few days of his stay at winterfell. in truth, as you came to accept your father's death and the unfortunate fate that befell bran, you came to the conclusion that the short time you had with one another was a precious thing, not to be wasted - and you sought him out often, just as you once did.

╰┈➤ the morning he was set to leave for the night's watch, you rose early in the hour of the nightingale- and you sought him out. you walked to the godswood once more, your arm brushing against his. "I believe that I have loved you all my life. I believe that I will love you for the rest of it" you admitted to him as he reached out to grasp your hands in his, a sad smile making its way across your face. "I have loved you all my life, and I will love you for the rest of it" he vowed to you as he leaned down to press his final, gentle kiss upon your lips. you needn't have spoken words of forgiveness or talked much of anything else. you were overcome with a melancholic contentedness in that very moment. jon left his home with his uncle benjen within the next few hours, but he left his heart in winterfell with you.

╰┈➤ that very same evening, you wept in your aunt catelyn's arms. her kiss upon your forehead felt the same as your mother's on the day you last saw her - on the day you left your home behind.

a/n : and that's where I think I'm going to end this! if I ever feel like it, I may revisit jon and arryn!reader later down the line - perhaps with a quick rewrite of season and a happier ending than I gave them here. the original version of this fic is still in my drafts, but I legitimately hated the pacing and the dynamic between jon and reader felt rushed so I rewrote the whole thing - I'm still not fully happy with it, but I much prefer this version and I'm more comfortable publishing it. I hope you enjoy reading this, and please be sure to leave some constructive criticism as I do think there are some parts here that I think can be improved. please do forgive me if the pacing feels slightly off, I struggled quite a bit with this prompt and I legitimately could not write this fic a third time nor expand on it more to try and make it more sensible.

as always, I'm tagging several different characters to help get the post out to as many people as possible, but I do write for all of the characters tagged below so please feel free to request something for them.

[writerbugg]

Good Luck

Platonic Yandere Dc x reincarnated Reader

I made this a bit ago so have mercy :,)

Wattpad

Summary : Y/n, who recently taken an interest in the DC universe, finds themself in that very universe after a little roadkill accident.

Prologue, Chapter # 1 (you are here), Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6

Never feel guilty for starting again. - Rupi Kaur

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

It had been a few hours since Y/n had awoken, she felt like she was in shock. She could remember walking back to her dorm from the public library. She had picked a random comic from the comic section, deciding to venture from her usual picks.

She could remember the bright headlights barreling towards her, the pain, her breath slowly slipping from her...

Y/n doesn't know is she can look at a truck the same way again.

"What do you think could've caused this Lois? She was completely fine yesterday." A man with inky black hair and deep blue eyes paced around the kitchen, his brows furrowed in frustration.

The woman next to him, Louis, placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort her husband. "I don't know Clark, it's strange."

Y/n sucks in a breath, she was in the DC universe.

──●◎●──

'...I didn't even get to finish playing through Fnaf.' Y/n thought as she watched her 'parents' talk. Sighing, Y/n recounted her situation, she could remember her past life perfectly, but she drew a blank when she tried to remember anything from this life.

In all honesty Y/n was on the verge of a panic attack, still coming to grips with the fact she died. Not only that, but out of all the universes to be reincarnated in, Y/n was reborn into one of the most dangerous universes out there. Why couldn't she just be reincarnated in a chick flick?

Louis had her arm around Y/n, holding her close and trying to comfort her. She was saying something to Y/n, though nothing really registered.

Justifiably, Y/n didn't feel like talking to anyone.

Clark sat down in front of you, gently taking your hands in his hands. "Y/n, can you tell us what could have happened? Anything at all?" Y/n shakes her head no. She chose not to mention her past life, something in her gut told her to keep it to herself.

Clark sighed disappointedly, "I guess I'll have to call Bruce." He seemed grimace when he mentioned Bruce's name.

That's never a good sign.

──●◎●──

"What do you mean 'No' Bruce!?" Clark yelled at the billionaire, who was trying to calm down and reason with the hero.

"Clark, I just think you're going a little overboard, let me take her back to Gotham. I can use my computers and resources that are stored in the bat cave to figure out what's wrong." Bruce explained. "We don't need to summon the Justice League for this." Bruce's brow furrowed at the stubbornness of the alien.

Off to the side Y/n watched the interaction with morbid curiosity. Though you agreed that calling up the Justice League was a bit... over the top. It was still strange how Bruce seems reluctant to interact with the Justice League in general.

Wonder why that is.

Clark runs a hand through his hair, obviously frustrated. "Why would I let my daughter go to Gotham, for all I know, this is some excuse to experiment on her kryptonian side. Find out more weaknesses," he all but snarled, "or get her killed, just like Jason!"

Clark pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can't trust her with you, not after..." He shakes his head, turning away from Bruce.

Louis had left your side to talk with Clark, allowing Jon to take her place.

There's some silence, before Jon decides to speak. "...I think you should go." He says. Y/n tilts her head towards him, brow raised. "I gave a friend there, Damien." Jon begins, "he's told me all about Bruce, I think they can help you."

Jon blushes a bit, "Plus, Damien is the most trustworthy guy I know, if you ever need help, he'll be there."

Footsteps approach you both from behind, turning to look, you both see an irritated Clark approaching you. "Well, she doesn't have a choice. She isn't going." He huffed.

"..."

"Clark, do you want her to get the best treatment or not?" Surprisingly, Lois spoke up this time. Sighing, she took Clark's hand.

"Bruce won't betray our trust, plus she'll be in one of the most protected places in Gotham, getting the best treatment she could ever get. I think we should let Bruce take her until we figure out what, or... who caused this."

──●◎●──

Y/n and Bruce sit in silence.

──●◎●──

Chapter 2

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt behind the cut: YJ accidental baby acquisition. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Genetically, Kenley is our offspring,” Tim cuts in quickly, keeping his voice as even as possible. “The DNA test was clear. And they’re a child. They can’t just stay at the Tower or on the Watchtower.” 

“Impulse is technically seven, and Superboy is–what, five?” Barry says, looking exasperated. Kon’s still a few months away from four, actually, given the whole “was dead for a year” thing and some other weird shit that’s happened in their lives–they actually did the math pretty recently, but the fact that they had to do the math at all is very obviously a sign of weird shit happening in their lives, and either way, Tim won’t be correcting Barry’s math right now. “And you and Wonder Girl are what–seventeen?” 

Speaking of people who were dead for a while and lost track of shit . . . 

“I’m nineteen,” Cassie says, narrowing her eyes at Barry. “And Robin’s eighteen. No ‘technically’ about it.” 

“Physiologically and mentally, Impulse is seventeen and Superboy is nineteen,” Tim informs them shortly before anyone can try and make the technicalities an issue. “It’s unreasonable to treat them as capable of risking their lives as active superheroes after they’ve both already died in the line of duty but then claim they’re not capable of basic childcare when you think it’s inconvenient for them to be allowed to.” 

“Also you’re not allowing anything,” Bart says with a frown. “Kenley’s ours. Genetically and, like, ‘found and saved’-ly.” 

“Bart, you have no idea how difficult taking care of even a normal kid is. Assuming the kid’s safe, an actual foster situation is going to be necessary,” Barry says in exasperation, sounding weary, and Wally looks a little stressed too, which is not good. Wally’s the best chance they have to get the League at large not to be unreasonable about this–at least as long as Dick’s here, anyway–but he and Bart have never really seen eye to eye and he’s never really understood him or taken him seriously, so . . . 

Also, Wally’s the one who has the most experience with having superpowered kids in this conversation, and with nearly losing said kids. If anyone’s going to be the one they can get on their side, well– 

Technically, Tim is perfectly aware of Jon Kent’s existence and the fact that he has superpowers and was also temporarily “lost”. He’s equally aware of both Otho and Osul’s existences and past traumas and own powers. 

He is even more aware of the fact that Clark apparently didn’t know about Lophi and Martha and has never fucking once trusted Kon to be responsible for anything but a dog who was already invulnerable and indestructible and that he just personally happened to need a long-term petsitter for. Which might be unfair, a little, but is also objective fact. 

So yes, Wally is definitely their best shot here. Especially with Dick hopefully willing to back them up, if it comes to it. If he weighs in too quickly, Bruce will think he’s either biased or being too emotional, but if they can at least start to convince Wally and maybe Diana . . . 

“What do you expect us to do, just dump ‘em on Max Mercury or Red Tornado? Go see who’s the Spectre right now?” Cassie demands, folding her arms. “Go dig up Cadmus wherever they’re currently buried, see if they’re hiring kindergartners? Hey, I know, ship ‘em off to Hawaii with a sleazy–!” 

“Kenley doesn’t need fostered,” Tim cuts in quickly, because that line of conversation is not ending well no matter what. “We’re their biological parents, and we’re capable of taking care of them to an appropriate standard.” 

“That isn’t an acceptable decision for Young Justice to make without input,” Bruce says. 

“What is this, a superhero-CPS visit?!” Cassie snaps, clenching her fists. “Based on what, exactly? They’re ours! What’s not ‘acceptable’ is for the Justice League to decide you all get to make decisions about our fucking kid!” 

“Also, like, super hypocritical, I’m pretty sure,” Bart says. “Nobody interferes with what any of you guys do with your kids.” 

“None of us just kidnapped a kid straight out of a lab, Impulse!” Barry says in exasperation. 

“That’d be way too, like, actively proactive, yeah,” Bart agrees, and for just an instant vibrates in a very telling way. His expression doesn’t change, but he’s obviously angry. Very obviously angry. 

Maybe not obviously to Barry, though, Tim realizes almost immediately. 

“Being patient enough to show restraint isn’t a character flaw, kid,” Barry says, still clearly exasperated. 

“You’re being a sprocking nass about this,” Bart says, still staring at him with the same blank expression. “And also a fucking asshole.” 

Well, this is going well. 

“We’re just concerned about everyone’s safety, including the child’s,” Clark says, lifting a placating hand. Bart scowls, and Cassie bristles. Kon–doesn’t look away from Kenley. 

Tim just doesn’t feel particularly “placated”, put it that way.