#wonder woman x reader imagine

[nosyrobin]

Imagine (wonderboy!reader)

Imagine late teen supersons, the future holy trinity of supers. Damian and Jonathan just watching reader who is breathing heavy, Damian is counting each time the Amazon male is punching the punching bag, watching his muscles flex. While Jonathan is listening to the heartbeat of the Amazon. “Is it bad I find our best friend hot?” Jonathan says out loud to the tanned boy beside him. “..is it bad that I agree with you.” The two boys watch the tall Amazon male wipe his sweat off using his shirt. Revealing his six pack, the two boys looked at each other with flustered looks. “We gotta get him before anyone does.” Jon says quickly. “ Affirmative.” Damian says back, shaking hands with the superboy.

[urdreamydoodles]

DC Comics Characters x Fem!OC

You smacks their ass as they walk past

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Kal-El (Clark Kent), Barry Allen, Diana of Themyscira, Arthur Curry, Hal Jordan, Oliver Queen, John Constantine, Roy Harper, Koriand'r (Starfire), Kara Zor-El (Supergirl) & Slade Wilson

After a short festive break, I'm back in force with my headcanons. My (hyper) brain has been obsessed with DC lately, so get ready for some DC headcanons with new characters I've never done before. I missed you all, love, Marie.

Bruce Wayne aka. Batman

- You didn’t mean to do it. Well, that’s a lie. You absolutely meant to do it. The way Bruce’s broad, suited figure strode past you in the Batcave was simply too tempting. There he was, the epitome of brooding composure, running a hand through his dark hair as he mulled over crime scene reports. Without much thought, your hand acted on instinct. Smack. The sound echoed through the cavern like a gunshot. Bruce stopped mid-step. Slowly, he turned his head, an arched eyebrow lifting to meet his ever-present scowl. "Really?" he asked, voice calm but laced with that unmistakable Wayne edge.

- His reaction wasn’t anger, though you could see the faintest twitch of amusement in the corner of his mouth. You, the only one in Gotham—or perhaps the world—who could dare to breach his stoicism with something so mundane as a playful swat. You crossed your arms, feigning innocence, though your smirk betrayed you. “What? Just testing your reflexes, Mr. Wayne.” He took a slow step toward you, his shadow sprawling like a cloak. “I thought you’d want to keep that hand intact,” he murmured, but there was warmth in his voice that belied the threat.

- Bruce never let much show, but you knew the man beneath the cowl better than anyone. As much as he loved his mission, as much as he carried Gotham on his weary shoulders, he loved you more. There was no hiding the way his stern exterior softened around you, how his dark eyes gleamed with affection when he thought you weren’t looking. And now, despite his unflinching persona, you saw a flicker of vulnerability in the way he lingered near, uncertain if he should let himself laugh.

- “Next time,” he finally said, his voice low, “make sure Alfred isn’t around to hear it.” His lips quirked into the barest smile before he turned back to the Batcomputer. Yet, as he walked away, you could swear he slowed his stride, almost as if daring you to do it again. You didn’t, of course. Not then. But the idea of Gotham’s Dark Knight flustered by a simple smack was too delicious to forget. And Bruce knew it.

Clark Kent (Kal-El) aka. Superman

- Clark didn’t see it coming. How could he, when he was too busy carrying three bags of groceries in each hand and balancing a box of pastries in the crook of his elbow? You watched him shuffle toward the kitchen counter, his broad shoulders filling the doorway, his wholesome, Midwestern charm radiating even in the simplest acts. As he passed, you couldn’t resist. Smack. The clap of your hand against his ridiculously perfect backside made him jump slightly, the pastries nearly tumbling from his grip. “Hey!” he exclaimed, spinning around, cheeks flushed pink.

- For someone faster than a speeding bullet, Clark sure could get caught off guard by you. His face was an endearing mix of surprise and bashfulness, and you swore the man looked like he’d just been scolded by Ma Kent herself. ���What was that for?” he asked, his voice filled with genuine confusion but also a hint of laughter. You shrugged, batting your lashes. “Couldn’t resist. You’re carrying so much cake, after all.” He groaned at the pun but couldn’t keep from smiling.

- Clark, despite his extraordinary origins, was at his core a simple man. A man who loved sharing quiet evenings with you, cooking together, and pretending the world didn’t need him for a little while. He was also devastatingly kind, a trait that extended to how he loved you—with full-hearted sincerity and no room for doubt. So when he looked at you now, shaking his head with a chuckle, you knew he wasn’t really annoyed.

- “You’re unbelievable,” he said, placing the pastries safely on the counter. Then, faster than you could blink, his arms wrapped around you, pulling you close with that impossible strength. “But if you’re going to tease, you’d better be prepared to deal with the consequences.” His grin was all boyish mischief as he tickled your sides, your laughter ringing through the kitchen. You swore he let you win when you finally broke free. Clark Kent, the strongest man alive, completely at your mercy.

Barry Allen aka. Flash

- Barry didn’t even stop moving. You were sure he noticed, though, because as you walked past him in the hallway and your hand made contact with his backside, he nearly tripped over his own feet. For the Flash, that was saying something. “Did you just—” he started, spinning to face you. His words were drowned out by your laughter as he stood there, red-faced and wide-eyed, his usual chatter momentarily short-circuited.

- “What?” you asked innocently, though your grin betrayed you. Barry spluttered for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck. “I—I wasn’t expecting that!” he managed, his voice pitching higher than usual. You loved how easy it was to fluster him, even though he was one of the smartest, fastest people in the world. “You’ve got to work on your reaction time, hero,” you teased, winking as you sauntered away.

- Barry’s mind was racing, as it always did, but now it wasn’t just thoughts of his latest case or some quantum theory experiment. No, now it was you—how you could so effortlessly knock him off balance with a single playful act. He adored you for it, for the way you brought lightness and humor into his often chaotic, exhausting life. You were his anchor, his calm in the storm of velocity and danger.

- Later, when he zipped into the living room with snacks for your movie night, he couldn’t resist a little payback. As he placed the bowl of popcorn on the table, he leaned in close, his lips brushing your ear. “Tag,” he whispered, and before you could respond, he darted away, leaving a gentle swat on your hip in his wake. Your laughter followed him, echoing in the space he’d just vacated. Barry might be the fastest man alive, but you were the one who always left him breathless.

Diana of Themyscira aka. Wonder Woman

- You didn’t think it was possible to catch Diana off guard. The Amazon princess was grace and power personified, her every movement deliberate, her every action precise. But when you passed her in the sunlit garden and gave her a cheeky smack, she stopped mid-step. Her head turned slowly, her azure eyes narrowing as her lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Did you just strike a warrior?” she asked, her voice a blend of amusement and mock reprimand.

- “A warrior with impeccable form,” you shot back, bold as ever. Diana’s laughter rang out, melodic and warm, her posture relaxing as she faced you fully. “You’re fortunate I consider this an act of affection,” she teased, stepping closer. The sunlight caught her dark hair, casting her in an almost ethereal glow. She was intimidating and beautiful, a goddess among mortals, yet in this moment, she was utterly human—and yours.

- Diana loved how unafraid you were of her strength, her presence. So many treated her like a distant, untouchable figure, but you reminded her that she was more than her titles or her mission. You made her laugh, you challenged her, and you weren’t afraid to be playful with her—even when it came to something as bold as this. She admired your spirit, your fire, the way you met her gaze without hesitation.

- “You realize,” she said, her tone mock-serious as she closed the gap between you, “that this is an invitation for retaliation.” Before you could react, her arms wrapped around you, lifting you effortlessly off the ground. Her laughter joined yours as she spun you once before setting you back down. “Careful, my love,” she warned, pressing a kiss to your temple. “A warrior never forgets.” But the smile on her lips promised she’d never stop loving your daring nature.

Arthur Curry aka. Aquaman

- You should have known better than to smack Arthur Curry as he walked past, the salty scent of the sea clinging to him like a second skin. The man was built like a fortress, with muscles that rippled beneath his tank top and a stride that exuded the confidence of a king. As your hand connected with his backside, the smack echoed through the cozy beach house you shared. Arthur stopped mid-step, his broad shoulders tensing. Slowly, he turned his head, a grin spreading across his rugged, sun-kissed face. “You sure you want to start this game, love?”

- He set down the fishing net he’d been carrying, his piercing green eyes narrowing playfully as he took a deliberate step toward you. You couldn’t help but laugh, holding your ground even as he loomed closer, his smirk promising trouble. “I couldn’t resist,” you said, your voice light. “It’s not every day a queen gets to remind her king who’s really in charge.” Arthur barked out a laugh, the sound deep and rich like the ocean waves outside. “Oh, is that so?” he rumbled, his hands finding his hips.

- Arthur loved your boldness, the way you matched his fiery spirit without hesitation. You were one of the few people who could keep up with him—whether it was challenging his quick temper, teasing his authority, or standing beside him when the burdens of two worlds weighed heavily on his shoulders. You weren’t afraid of his strength, his power, or the scars that told the story of his battles. Instead, you met him head-on, reminding him of the joy and levity he often forgot.

- “Alright,” he said finally, leaning down until his face was inches from yours, his grin widening. “But just remember—you started it.” Before you could react, his large hand swatted your hip, the playful strike making you gasp and laugh at the same time. “That’s for round one,” he teased, straightening as he headed toward the kitchen. “Let’s see if you’ve got the guts for round two.” You watched him go, shaking your head. King of the seas? More like king of cheeky comebacks.

Hal Jordan aka. Green Lantern

- You didn’t even plan it. Hal Jordan had been walking past, cocky as ever in his flight jacket, tossing his keys onto the counter with that easy swagger that made your heart race and your patience thin in equal measure. Before you knew it, your hand moved of its own accord. Smack. The sound was sharp, and Hal froze, mid-step, his head snapping toward you. For a moment, his mouth opened, but no sound came out. Then, finally, he broke into a grin. “Well, hello to you too,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement.

- Hal was never one to back down from a challenge, and you knew that all too well. “Careful,” he warned, his green eyes sparkling as he took a slow step toward you. “You’re playing with fire here, gorgeous.” You shrugged, feigning innocence. “Oh, please. If you’re so tough, you should be able to handle a little pat on the back. Or… elsewhere.” His laughter was immediate, loud and free, filling the room like music. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, you know that?”

- That was what Hal adored about you. He’d spent so much of his life surrounded by danger and responsibility—whether it was saving the universe as Green Lantern or pulling insane aerial stunts as a test pilot. But you? You were his gravity, his reminder that life wasn’t all about proving himself. You made him laugh in a way no one else could, and even when you pushed his buttons, he couldn’t help but fall a little more in love with you each time.

- “Alright,” he said, slipping his jacket off and tossing it onto the couch. “You wanna play dirty? Let’s play dirty.” Before you could react, Hal’s ring glowed, and a green construct of a feather appeared in his hand. “Let’s see how tough you are when the tables turn.” You squealed, darting behind the couch as he followed, grinning like a kid in a candy store. Hal Jordan might be fearless, but you knew his real weakness—your laugh, your smile, your ability to keep him on his toes.

Oliver Queen aka. Green Arrow

- Oliver Queen barely flinched when your hand smacked his backside as he walked past the kitchen counter, a bow slung over his shoulder. Instead, he stopped, cocking his head to the side with a slow smirk spreading across his handsome, scruffy face. “Well, that’s one way to get my attention,” he drawled, turning to face you. His emerald-green eyes sparkled with mischief, and you could already tell he was plotting some form of retaliation. “Should I be worried, or was that just your way of saying ‘good shot’?”

- “You’ve been spending too much time in the field,” you teased, crossing your arms and leaning against the counter. “Thought I’d remind you who really has the aim around here.” Oliver laughed, the sound warm and rich as he set his bow down carefully. “Oh, really? You think you can out-shoot me and out-smart me in my own house?” His tone was playful, but you knew the archer in him couldn’t resist a challenge.

- Oliver loved that about you—your boldness, your fire, the way you never let him take himself too seriously. It was a rare gift to be able to break through the walls he built around himself, the layers of guilt and responsibility he carried as Star City’s protector. But you didn’t just break through; you tore those walls down with humor, love, and a fearlessness that matched his own. You reminded him of the man beneath the hood, the one who still knew how to laugh and love.

- “Alright,” he said, stepping closer and resting his hands on either side of the counter, trapping you in place. “But just so we’re clear—if this is your idea of flirting, I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve too.” Before you could respond, he leaned in and kissed you deeply, stealing your breath and your smugness all at once. When he pulled back, his grin was pure Oliver Queen. “Your move, pretty bird.”

John Constantine aka. Hellblazer

- When your hand smacked John Constantine’s backside, his reaction was immediate—a sharp intake of breath, followed by a low, throaty chuckle that promised trouble. He turned to face you, cigarette dangling from his lips, his trench coat swirling slightly with the motion. “Well, well, love,” he drawled, his voice tinged with that unmistakable cockney accent. “Didn’t think you had it in you. Careful now—you’re playing with fire.”

- “Oh, please,” you shot back, smirking. “You deal with demons, curses, and apocalyptic prophecies daily. You can handle a little slap.” His grin widened, and he took a step closer, the scent of tobacco and leather surrounding you. “You’ve got some cheek, you know that?” he said, taking the cigarette from his mouth and flicking the ash into the tray. “But that’s why I keep you around. Keeps me on my toes.”

- John wasn’t used to this—lightness, laughter, love. His life was a whirlwind of darkness and chaos, and yet, somehow, you had wormed your way into his blackened heart. You brought him peace in a way no spell or sigil ever could. And while he’d never admit it outright, he adored the way you challenged him, kept him grounded, and gave him something to fight for beyond his own self-loathing.

- “But fair warning, darling,” he said, his voice dropping to that low, gravelly tone that sent shivers down your spine, “I don’t play fair.” Before you could react, he whispered a quick spell under his breath, and suddenly, your shoes were glued to the floor. “There,” he said with a wink, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Let’s see if you’re still so bold when you can’t run away.” Your laughter filled the room as he walked off, his shoulders shaking with amusement. Classic Constantine—always one step ahead, but always hopelessly smitten with you.

Roy Harper aka. Arsenal

- You really couldn’t resist. Roy Harper had been strutting around the apartment like he owned the place, shirtless, a bow slung across his back, humming some old rock tune under his breath. His cocky energy was palpable, and when he passed by you in the living room, it was instinctive. Smack. Your hand connected with his jean-clad backside, and the sound was sharp enough to cut through his off-key singing. Roy froze, turning slowly with a look of mock betrayal. “Did you just…? Oh, you’re really asking for it now, gorgeous.”

- You leaned back against the couch, smirking. “What? Just checking if Arsenal’s reflexes are still sharp.” Roy placed a hand on his hip, pointing at you with the other. “You’re lucky I didn’t just shoot an arrow in surprise,” he teased, though the grin tugging at his lips made it clear he was anything but annoyed. “But fine. If we’re doing this, let me warn you—I don’t fight fair.”

- Roy loved that you didn’t take him too seriously. In a life full of chaos, mistakes, and battles, you were his sanctuary, the one person who could knock him off his pedestal in the best way. Your playful antics reminded him that not everything had to be about proving himself or fighting the next big battle. You were his partner in every sense of the word—his laughter, his balance, his home.

- “Alright, beautiful,” he said, dropping the bow and cracking his knuckles. “You know what happens when you mess with me, right?” Before you could react, he pounced, pinning you to the couch in an exaggerated wrestling move that had both of you laughing uncontrollably. “This is justice!” he declared dramatically, tickling your sides until you were begging for mercy. Roy Harper was impossible, but then again, so were you, and you wouldn’t trade him for anything.

Koriand’r aka. Starfire

- The reaction was immediate. As your hand connected with Koriand’r’s backside while she passed you in the hallway, she stopped mid-step, her fiery hair glowing faintly as it caught the light. Slowly, she turned to face you, her wide green eyes blinking in confusion. “Was that… an Earth custom of affection?” she asked, her tone curious but tinged with amusement. You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, her innocent confusion melting any attempt at feigned innocence. “Sure, Kori. It’s totally a custom. Very common.”

- Kori tilted her head, a thoughtful expression crossing her beautiful features. “How interesting,” she said, stepping closer to you. “On Tamaran, we express affection with embraces, kisses, and occasionally by flying into the air with loved ones. But this… this is new. I like it!” Her radiant smile made your heart flutter, and you could see the mischief spark in her gaze. “Does this mean I can do it back?”

- You adored how open and loving Kori was. She embraced life with the same passion she brought to battle, and her joy was contagious. Loving her meant constantly learning to see the world through her eyes, where every experience—big or small—was worth celebrating. You could never get enough of the way she made even the smallest moments feel like an adventure.

- “You may want to prepare yourself!” she declared suddenly, her arms wrapping around you in a warm, powerful embrace. Before you could protest, she lifted you effortlessly off the ground, spinning you in circles as laughter bubbled out of both of you. When she finally set you down, she pressed a kiss to your forehead and gave you a playful tap on your backside. “This is a wonderful custom!” she declared with a bright giggle. You’d created a monster, and you couldn’t have been happier about it.

Kara Zor-El aka. Supergirl

- Kara Zor-El nearly dropped the bowl of popcorn she was carrying when your hand smacked her backside. Nearly. Her Kryptonian reflexes kicked in, and she saved the snack, spinning around with a look of wide-eyed disbelief. “Did you just…?!” she stammered, her cheeks flushing a deep red. You leaned casually against the counter, biting back a grin. “What? Just making sure Earth’s strongest woman doesn’t have any blind spots.”

- “Blind spots?!” Kara exclaimed, placing the bowl down with exaggerated care. “You’re lucky I don’t fly you straight into the stratosphere for that.” But the way she crossed her arms and pouted made it clear she wasn’t actually upset. If anything, she was flustered—adorably so. “You’re impossible, you know that?” she muttered, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her.

- Kara loved how comfortable you were around her. So many people treated her like a symbol or a savior, but you just treated her like Kara. You teased her, laughed with her, and never let her powers overshadow the fact that she was just a girl trying to navigate life on a new planet. Being with you grounded her, reminded her that even superheroes deserved to let their guard down and have fun.

- “Fine,” she said finally, her lips quirking into a mischievous grin. “But don’t think I won’t get you back.” Before you could respond, she darted forward at super-speed, giving your side a playful nudge that sent you stumbling into the couch. She was back in her original spot before you could blink, arms crossed and a victorious smirk on her face. “Kryptonians don’t lose, you know,” she teased, her laughter filling the room.

Slade Wilson aka. Deathstroke

- You weren’t entirely sure what possessed you to do it. Slade Wilson wasn’t exactly known for his sense of humor, but as he passed you in the training room, his armor catching the dim light, the temptation was too strong. Your hand smacked his backside, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet space. He stopped immediately, his head turning just enough for his single visible eye to lock onto you. The sharp, dangerous glint in his gaze made your heart race. “You’re braver than I thought,” he said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble.

- “And you’re slower than I thought,” you shot back, unable to resist. His brow arched, and you could see the corner of his mouth twitch—was that amusement? “Careful,” he warned, stepping closer, his imposing frame casting a long shadow. “You might find out just how fast I can be.” Despite his intimidating presence, you refused to back down, crossing your arms and smirking up at him. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

- Slade had always admired your boldness. In a world where most people either feared him or tried to use him, you were a refreshing change. You didn’t treat him like a weapon or a monster—you saw the man beneath the mask, the one who carried the weight of too many sins. Your audacity, your fire, reminded him of the parts of himself he thought he’d buried long ago.

- “Alright,” he said, his tone deceptively calm as he leaned in, his face inches from yours. “But don’t forget—every action has a consequence.” Before you could respond, his hand darted out, delivering a sharp but playful swat to your hip. You gasped, more in surprise than pain, and he straightened, his smirk now fully formed. “Your move,” he said, turning and walking away with the measured confidence of a man who always had the upper hand. And yet, you could see the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. For all his gruffness, Slade Wilson was undeniably charmed by you.

[onmyyan]

HEAR ME OUT GANG

I think logically the only plausible person to go to, to get you away from the batfamily, would be a supe. Not just any supe either, a yandere unified batfamily is a force to be reckoned with, they're a team in every sense of the word, after the same goals, so you need Wonder Woman.

Diana is literally a beast when it comes to combat plus she has an all woman island she can whisk you away to at literally any moment, if she decides you're worth protecting which spoiler alert she does, you have nothing to worry about now.

Except a yandere Amazonian

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being the Justice League’s computer intelligence

Justice League x reader

warnings:

a/n: THANKS BABE. this is such an old request i am so freaking sorry

prompt: anonymous: “Hello! I would like to request a Justice League (DC Extended Universe) + Reader who is sort of their 'Person in the Chair' - helping behind the scenes to keep their weapons/powers/skillset in tact, but is not afraid to fight back if necessary? I would like these to be a set of headcanons, please? Thank you and Happy Writing! P.S. You're writing is incredible!”

you and alfred got along well

“glad i’m not the only one doing the grunt work anymore” -alfred

“and i was under the impression you loved this job” -you, sarcastically

you could frequently be found switching between important sites that actually helped during missions and reddit

“alfred hang on i want your opinion on this: ‘am i the asshole for trying on my bosses suit? i (25m) work with some pretty famous people and my boss (45m) has a really cool suit. it’s a little stiff but i think i like it. anyways, there’s a matching hat (if you will) and it smells AWFUL, so i sprayed it with febreeze but it only made it worse—’” -you

“hang on. this cant be…” -alfred

“HOW DID YOU FIND MY REDDIT ACCOUNT?!” -barry, over comms

“your name is scarletspeedster, and we’ve been trying to wash that febreeze smell from the cowl for weeks.” -you

“my god, barry. next time, just use an old suit” -alfred

“really?!” -barry

“no” -you and alfred

you do a lot of gadget/weapon design with JL members

“it’s acceptable” -bruce

“wow, thanks” -you

“it’s…it’s good work. i mean it” -bruce

diana sits with you and tells you stories, sometimes theyre very informational

“so if you ever do end up fighting, you’re going to want to craft a very nice sword for yourself. i know you’re good at that, you’ll do just fine” -diana

barry nerds out with you sometimes

he gets real excited when he sees you designing stuff on the computer

and tries to be helpful

“wind resistance might be a problem with this design, you should go sleeker” -barry

“hey, barry? if you don’t let me do my job im gonna design a tool specifically to shut you up” -you

“harsh!” -barry

“sorry, maybe a little too far. but let me work” -you

arthur wanted cooler clothes

“can i get you some material from atlantis so you can make me a nicer suit?” -arthur

“only if you bring me extra so i can have fun with it” -you

“not a problem for the king, its a deal” -arthur

clark didn’t really need/want much

but he was a great help when testing new weapons and suits

“can you just…laser vision that target right ahead. new suit material” -you

“yeah, stand back” -clark

it held for a good 20 seconds

“better than i thought” -you

you were their eyes in the sky on missions

directions, lookout, enemies, obstacles, detours, you name it

and yeah, maybe victor could also do a great deal of this stuff, but you got to do it behind the scenes and you actually got paid pretty well for it

but occasionally you did ask him for tech support

“victor, the batcomputer froze” -you

“i know, i did that on purpose” -vic

“can you unfreeze it so i can see what’s going on?” -you

“what’s the password?” -vic

*sigh* “ilovevicstone123” -you

diana let you spar with her sometimes

which honestly scared you every time bc you know she could kill you if she wanted to (but you knew she would never)

(but she could)

you’d never be apart of the justice league, which was very okay with you because you loved being behind the scenes and not being shot at

and so long and you had tea with alfred while the rest of them were kicking ass, you’d manage

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @deanzboyfriend // @zoeyserpentluck // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

[kimberly-spirits13]

Growing Up in the Justice League HC

Purely self indulgence cause I've been on this and idk why so bear with me here

I can just easily romanticize growing up in the Justice League too easily and it would be a problem

you're brought in at as a baby to be trained by Diana

Apollo brings you to her and tells her that you are an ancient being that regenerates as a new person when you die and this is the form that you have taken. As you get older, you will remember the skills and memories of your past lives but you will have to be raised with someone who can handle you

Diana just loves babies so she had no problem with that

I'd say the league has been established for some time during this point and everyone knows each other's identities in the core group

You grew up in Paris and New York being raised as a mama's child

Bruce is the closest you get to a dad and he does his best

SPOILS YOU ROTTEN

all the Barbies and Legos and whatever toys you'd want as a child

They know that you've been trained as an assassin, wizard, queen, knight, sorceress, scientist, all of these other things that can be traumatic so they just want you to have a great, decent childhood

when you start remember things they begin training you to be a hero

It's like PE and recess all in one since they're really just trying to figure out what you can do

Clark treats you like a fragile piece of glass up until you're a teen cause teenagers confuse him and he just cannot not see you as an innocent beep boppin child sometimes

Barry keeps up with the culture and knows all the songs from your favorite childhood movies and tv shows that you grew up watching on the massive computer in the watch tower when you were up there

will dance to any Barbie song since he knows them all by heart

Hal makes fun of you two but secretly enjoys the movies and is very emotionally invested in Princess and the Pauper and Diamond Castle

Diana and Bruce make sure that you have a great education and training

They are the mature parents of the group and want to make sure you're a functioning member of society

you've got a bag full of grandparents in the Kents, Allans, Princes, Alfred and they all love you to death

Alfred teaches you to make the best tea and gardening, Ma Kent teaches you to quilt and make bread, Pa Kent teaches you how to drive a tractor and farm, Hippolyta teaches you about the Greek gods and ancient cultures and how to ride horses, the Allans would have loads of board games to play and love having you over

Once Young Justice or Teen Titans comes around you don't join since you're officially a Justice League member and get along better with the adults since you were raised by them

That doesn't mean that you don't like or hang out with the kids, it's just that you have better inside jokes with Hal and Barry

When Superboy comes around and the League disappears, you were the only one not taken by the portal since you were helping out some civilians

You knew that Clark wasn't dead and you knew the League was somewhere

What kept you afloat was humor and Kon attached to that since he just needed someone that wasn't insane in his life

you probably won't develop romantic feelings for each other but it's more of a camaraderie since you were both raised in a really unorthodox way

when the league finally comes back, you say it's the happiest day of your life and rant to them that you were the only one who knew they weren't gone but no one understood it

Hal and Barry are known for having a thing for chicken tenders and make sure to instill an addiction in you for chicken tenders

Arthur (Aquaman) really really really likes them too but he doesn't realize it until he comes to the League

Clark would be the one to take you out for ice cream randomly or if you're having a bad day

the mother hen therapist type

You're America's favorite Justice Leaguer and often go viral for in uniform interactions with the League

Dancing with Flash at a Presidential ceremony because the music is too beep boopin good and you can't help but bop around a little bit

Media also loves you as a civilian and it's been suspected that you are the love child between Diana and Bruce since I mean- that would make the most sense

it's a running joke in the league

[earlgreylatte]

Returnee

(Justice League Various x Reader) After centuries of surviving in a world without another human in sight, you return and find the heroes you once admired to be the only interesting things around, besides beating the shit out of monsters, of course.

Implied sexual content ahead, minors DNI.

You would describe yourself to be the pinnacle of mediocrity, your life consisting of drowning in course readings and dealing with people’s bullshit in your customer service job. You existed. You may not have been wholly content, but you got by.

And, sure you, like millions of other desolate young adults, had fantasies of escapism, being strong, being someone special. But you ultimately knew your place. You were no hero; no alien or chosen human that could answer to a greater calling. You were just you, average in every way. So unlike the heroes and villains that occupy your world. You’ll never make an impact that’ll even come close to the likes of them.

The only thing you can hope to do is try to make your parent’s suffering of starting a life here worth it. That all the money and work invested in you would have some sort of pay off. Even if it means you had to traverse a path you’re still uncertain about.

You knew your limits, and maybe that rigid acceptance is what led to your own self destruction.

You find yourself in a desolate world void of humans but occupied with beasts unlike anything you have ever seen before, with sharpened talons and razored blades for teeth. No matter how much you cry and scream you do not wake up. The only communication you get comes in the form of ‘tabs’ that resemble something out of a video game. It’s gives you quests to adhere, reminders to keep things interesting, notifications you’re being watched by deities that watch your struggle like a show to tune into. Every moment, no matter how humiliating, is spectated.

You want nothing more to return to the life you had, answer the messages you never got the chance to respond to, try the things you never got to even attempt. You curse your inaction, your own spoiled thoughts from a lifetime ago, your parents for even giving birth to you if this is the reality you have to face.

Your survival hangs on a thread at first, you only being able to run away from the larger beasts. Eventually your tears dry, you fight back against the ones smaller than you. These Outergods sponsor you with a game like currency. You level up. You acquire gear better than a makeshift bone shiv. You consume. You sleep. And you do it all over again for the next couple centuries in this world. You do not age, but you grow taller, strengthened by the creatures you slaughter. Eventually, you don’t need a blade to slay them anymore. Then the beasts try to avoid you. You still kill them. They’re never ending. The least they can do is give you something to do in their infinity.

You stop feeling fear, sadness, indignation, and even hatred. You exist. You somewhat remember the life and name you had before. You don’t really feel one way about it or the other. Your family, obligations, and old identity are all null and void to you now.

Clearly your spectators grow bored as they send you back to the world you once called yours. Apparently barely a year has passed since you were taken, even if you might be the oldest human to walk Earth now.

For the first time in a long time, you’re struck with uncertainty. A world that isn’t stuck in time, one loud with the presence of people, and yet you feel no relief or sanctity in the safety of your old home. No, you’re struck with how just like in that beast world, you’re still horrifically, agonizingly bored.

Until you notice a hoard of androids terrorize the street. You can feel the blood thrumming in your veins, and you realize with renewed vigour that it wasn’t bloodshed that you had yearned for, but the thrill of battle, not knowing if you’ll live, and putting everything you had left on the line after abandoning the softness that once defined your modern life.

And so you fought. You were barely grazed with a laser, but you could appreciate the adrenaline rushing through your body, the uncertainty of a new adversary. You paid little mind to the screaming civilians trying to evacuate the streets, all you cared about was tearing about these metal beings before they could even try to do the same to you.

You’re broken from the euphoria of battle when you feel a whoosh of air behind you, and a dozen androids deactivate before you.

“Hey there, don’t think I’ve ever seen you around,” what appeared to be living electrical energy clad in crimson spoke to you, in a tone you could almost recognize as friendly. “Not that I mind the help! I’m always happy to meet—!”

You can feel your pupils dilate as every inch of your body screams that this man is dangerous. Powerful. Different from the fodder you faced before.

“—so, what do you go by?”

Summoning your broad sword, you swiftly slam it into the ground below, watching the man get tossed back by its force as the concrete crumbles beneath him.

You toss your sword to where he lands, but he quickly recovers and disappears before reappearing before you.

“Woah, what are you—“ you interrupt him by throwing a punch but he dodges again, “Can we talk about this sudden aggression—!?”

Tiring of his evasion, you recall your sword and prepare to strike the ground again before pausing as a sudden rush of memories strikes you.

“Ah,” you hum, before stretching out your hand, halting the approaching speedster that stares at you confused. “You’re that one hero…Bolt, or whatever. Speed guy.”

Yes, a hero. Not a warrior. Not a survivor. And certainly not a killer. You feel the apathy rush back as you stare at him. No, you wouldn’t get a real fight out of him. He’d sooner try to subdue you. Non-lethally. Honestly, he was way too nice.

“Flash? I mean, I’m the Flash, hero of the city you’re in!” The speedster fumbles for a second, starting at you in puzzlement.

“Yeah, let’s just call it here.” You sigh before walking away. You definitely forgot heroes were a thing for a second. And takeout.

You’re stopped in your tracks when Flash blocks your path.

“Woah there, you can’t just leave!” He protests.

“Why not?”

“You took down like hundreds of androids, attacked me, and-and you haven’t even introduced yourself!”

“Hmm, I think I forgot my name,” you reply, bring a hand up to your chin in mock contemplation.

“What-?”

“Do you want to have sex with me or something?” You ask. “Because you’re being a bit clingy, man.”

The hero states at you with his mouth agape, and you can see the red flush growing around his cowl.

“I get it, it’s pretty easy for arousal to mix with thrill in battle. I won’t say I’m not attracted to you, but I’ve got things to do, people to fight, and I doubt I can get what I need from you,” you explain nonchalantly. “But hey, keep your head up, man. There’s some charm in being the fastest man alive. I’d test it under different circumstances, really.”

You back away as Flash remains still as a statue, exposed skin now matching his suit as he blankly watched you leave.

“What just happened…?”

Honestly you don't have anything against heroes. You pity them, really. They remind you of your own inexperience once upon a time, fighting against the inevitable. But you can't deny that there are some with years beyond even yours, continuing to fight in their crusade.

Some more interesting than others.

Hawkgirl, who you recall to have been a member of the Justice Society of America, was someone that made you look like a babe in comparison to the lifetimes held in that strong body. Good fighter too. You're almost disappointed your battle was interrupted by another invasion and she apparently found you to be an ally rather than an opponent after that. You just wanted to see if those aliens were worth a damn.

Wonder Woman also stood out for the same reason, encountering her when you arrived at Themyscira for a duel with their strongest. And boy did she deliver. But sadly you could see that she adopted a non-lethal style, fighting only till first blood rather than to the death.

At least their bathhouse was luxurious even if it was communal. Diana said that it was for bonding. You think she was totally checking you out.

You could say that you were becoming increasingly familiar with the growing Justice League, encountering its members every so often.

You didn't pick a fight, aware it would be more trouble than it was worth. You doubt you'd be too satisfied either.

So when you find yourself encountering the Bat in Gotham after subduing Clayface, you're not surprised.

You're also not surprised when he recites your name and missing status.

He drones on about the circumstances of your disappearance, your return as a much stronger (and hotter) individual, and your dubious intentions.

You throw you sword at him, and he ducks out of the way, throwing you a glare just as sharp as your blade.

You explain that he's not a great speaker, and he should invest in some interpersonal communication courses. And that's coming from you. You then add you'll leave after you try the recently opened batburger.

He gives you a ride in his Batmobile.

Superman was a bit of an irritating figure. A boy scout, despite his godlike abilities. Staring at him, you wonder how much kinetic force it would take to burst the blood vessels beneath that impenetrable skin.

"We would really like for you to visit the Watchtower! We understand if you may not want to commit to being a full time member, so if we could call on you—!"

He pauses when you outstretch your hand and stare at him with a raised eyebrow. He places his hand in yours, almost as if it was instinct, blushing when you brush your thumb across his skin.

You hum in thought before departing.

"Uh, wait! Was that a yes!?"

You're pretty sure you're about to bed Green Lantern. You had come to Coast City, curious to see if any disasters would occur to alleviate your boredom, but had instead ran into a man with swoopy hair and an nice aviator jacket in a bar. He was pleasant. He seemed charmed by your Superman/Lex Luthor conspiracy theories. And he talked about flying with a passion unfamiliar to you.

So when you ended up at his place, back against his door as he kissed and nipped at your neck, you pulled him back by his brown hair to look at you.

"I'm a virgin, by the way."

He stares at you incredulously with a touch of concern. "Are you sure this is how you want your first time to go? We don't have to do this."

You doubt you'll get a fight out of him. He'd probably just trap you in a construct, but there are other ways for you to get physical.

...and you needed the experience for the next time an Amazonian propositions you.

"I like you well enough. And I've waited a long time to actually do something like this," you reply, still playing with his hair.

"You really want to do this with an older guy?"

You laugh, "I'm definitely the older one here."

His lip twitches as he shoots you an amused look, "And I'm Batman."

"Do you really want to talk about him before we-?”

The lantern silences you with another hot kiss that you grin into.

Yes, this Justice League certainly made things interesting, even if some of them were obnoxious do-gooders.

Hal: So, what's your name?

Returnee, with jumbled memories: Demonic Blade of Slaughter

Hal:

Returnee: Do you want to have sex?

Returnee: So, yeah, I was trapped in a monster world for presumably centuries with these outer world gods being the only other sentient beings and they only made contact via stream chat donations. And the only thing that even elicits any emotional or physiological response in me is violence.

Batman, internally dying:

Returnee: Don't worry, I don't fight street tiers like you.

Diana: It's been a while since l've last had such an invigorating bout, I would love to spend more time testing how far we can push each other to... our limits.

Returnee, who spent the last centuries off Earth as a virgin: I hear the glory of battle calling, must be off, let's fight again soon!

Outergods: Okay, so the human has definitely cleared this world, so how about we return this bloody thirsty heathen back to their original world and see what entertainment we find in the chaos—!

Outergods: Okay, so they're just having sex with all these superpowered individuals. And is that—-Oh my god, is that Constantine!?

Outergods: Yeah, no, this is hot, I'm donating 10k coins for that.

Clearing out my drafts! I really love the whole system in ORV and I found the returnee concept so interesting. Masterlist

[elixirina]

Can I request a Jason Todd X Wondergirl!Reader where shes Wonder woman's daughter and side kick?

They were super close and started dating b4 be died as Robin, and they reunite after his revival.

The JL and Young Justice shipped them like crazy, Bruce looked at her like a daughter, and she was also close with Dick and Tim.

Similar to how Dick had Donna, Tim has Cassie, Jason has Reader 💓

It can be smut, fluff, angst, or a combination, I really don't mind, I love all of your work it's addictive 💕💕💕

If you don't mind, you can ignore this aspect if you want, but could WonderGirl reader have long voluminous ginger curly hair? Similar to how Greek Girls in renaissance paintings have? Idk it's just super cute for me.

Anyways, take care and keep doing what your doing 🫶🫶🫶

hello my beautiful anon! i really loved this idea, i incorporated most of what you said, minus the ginger hair (mainly because i want the reader to remain ambiguous)! however, i hope you like it, as i liked it very very much!

# definition of love — jason todd

synopsis — jason is found dead shortly after you began dating. it hit you like a train, and after a few years, you figured you had moved on. guess you’re proven wrong when you spot a figure who looks just like your boy.

warnings — nothing much, a timeline of events kind of, reader is diana’s daughter and sidekick. angst with a happy ending, reader literally having a mental breakdown twice, typical gf losing bf situation maybe a bit worse, reader has some amazonian features, reader's wondergirl suit is like diana's only the colors are like swapped so the top half is blue instead of red and the skirt is red, but the gold remains the same, as does the headband. this was proofread, but i probably overlooked a spelling mistake like always. i don't think there’s anything else

please please please reblog and like 🤍

© elixirina — all rights reserved. my work is never to be reposted, translated, modified, etc, even if i am credited.

seredipity (n.) finding something good without looking for it.

being wondergirl was like a dream come true. you couldn't lie that there were times you wanted to bash your head into a rock because of how stressful it was, but it gave you an excuse to spend time with your mother 24/7.

you were only 13, but your mother had started training you young. she claimed it was for your own protection, but you weren't necessarily sure that was the reason. nevertheless, you obliged and to be honest, it was fun.

getting to spend time with your mother and fight crime? hell yeah! plus, that meant you got to meet the justice league. the idea of it had always flown over your head, but when your mother finally came to you with the idea, you beamed.

luckily for you, that day had arrived as quickly as you had hoped. you were nervous to the point where you were shaking. you had met the young justice before and they were the nicest people you'd ever interacted with, given how close they were to your age. yet, this, this was different.

it seemed way more professional than when you met the young justice.

you stood beside your mother, as she showed you around the justice league headquarters. natural light streamed in through large, arched skylights and tall windows. the sun blared in your face, and it made you feel warm.

could this go any faster?

jason walked in beside bruce in his robin suit. he figured he looked stupid, but he always did when he put on the suit. when bruce had brought up the idea of meeting the justice league, he expected a much cooler headquarters. the hall of justice looked so...bland.

the walls were shade of cream, and a massive, glowing emblem of a shield stood in the main hall. the pair walked on the white marble floor.

in jason's eyes, he looked like a big ball of color surrounded by white. the boy had completely zoned out as bruce walked him through the establishment, talking and talking away.

he had completely forgot where he was when he spotted your flowing hair. he watched as you methodically fiddled with your red skirt. the blue and white on your bodice matched the skirt of the woman next to you. a woman he'd only assumed to be wonder woman.

bruce, unbeknownst to jason's staring, had led the latter over you and your mother, with plans of introducing you and jason.

your mother took notice of bruce's presence quickly, stopping her conversation with you. you watched as the two adults greeted each other with a smile.

bruce averted his gaze to you, looking down at your figure. "you must be y/n. i'm bruce. diana speaks highly of you." his words made your cheeks go warm and you smiled sheepishly.

"i would hope so." you rubbed your bare bicep, your nervousness coming back to you.

the man let out a chuckle, before turning over to the boy next to him. the boy you hadn't even noticed until now. and the minute you did, you felt everything stop. it felt weird, this had never happened before. whenever you met new people your age, you smiled and said hi, but you couldn't bring yourself to do any of that.

his presence hit you like the first bloom of spring after a long, harsh winter.

"this is my son, jason." bruce simply said, and jason's eyes widened, mainly because bruce called him his son, but also because this meant he had to say hi to you and he didn't even know if he could still speak.

you shook off everything you felt and gave the boy in front of you a smile. the three primary colors on his suit and the contrast between his and bruce's almost made you giggle.

the air seemed charged with something electric; tangible yet invisible. you gave him a wave which he very quickly returned. he quickly looked down at the marble floor and you watched him.

you couldn't stop thinking about that the entire day. and to be honest, it made you less nervous about meeting the justice league members. they were incredibly nice, but you just couldn't keep your eye off of jason.

you sure hoped you'd see boy wonder again.

best friend (n.) someone who will stand up for you in the times you need it most. keep your secrets close, and someone you trust with your life.

you were now 14. maybe you had a little crush on jason, but nevertheless, he was your best friend, so that didn't matter to you. what mattered was that you were with him, and he was with you; you sure as hell did not want to lose him.

the two of you sat on a rooftop, your feet dangling in the air. your gold headband held your hair back to the best of its ability as the warm summer wind began to pick up. the sun had set, making the sky a beautiful dark blue and the clock was nearing twelve.

you and jason had always spent your time on this rooftop. it gave you a perfect view of gotham and it was a perfect place for the two of you to escape your parents.

you got lost in conversation on this day, like always. hearing his laugh sent a shiver down your spine like always. you could never get used to it; it was like music to your ears.

in all those moments you'd spent on that rooftop, time slowed, stretching into something so ethereal. it made it so memorable.

talking to him was just so easy, one of the reasons you became friends. he just understood and so did you. he was like a piece of your puzzle you didn't know you were missing. and you loved it. you loved-

"if stars could talk, what do you think they'd say about us?" jason broke the short silence between the two of you. the random question made you chuckle.

you turned your head to face him with a smile, "what?" you tilt your head and jason swears it might just be the cutest thing he's ever seen.

jason grins like a cheshire cat, "i mean like, do you think they laugh at our problems and shit?" he always loved conversations like this. he only ever said stupid stuff to see you smile. every time you smiled, it felt like his heart was blossoming flowers.

"language. and you are so weird." you laughed, your hands gripped the concrete edge of the roof top.

"i am not weird. i just have a big imagination." he quickly defended, throwing his right hand in the air. his left hand, which sat on the concrete edge was lingering closer to your hand; none of you noticed.

you let out a snicker before sitting in a comfortable silence, staring at the sky. only a few stars were visible in the sky, mainly due to the amount of light.

you looked down at your left wrist subtly, a gold watch around it. it was a watch your mother had given you for your 12th birthday. you couldn't recall why you rarely ever took it off, but you were grateful you had it at that moment.

you averted your gaze to the boy next to you who was looking down at his lap with a smile on his face.

"happy birthday, jace."

he looked over, the wind blowing a strand of hair in his face. his eyebrows furrowed for a second before he realized it must've been the next day.

you smiled at him, laying your head on his shoulder. he couldn't keep his gaze off of you, and most of all, he couldn't believe you remembered.

god, he loved this.

lover (n.) 1. a person who is in love with another. 2. a person who has a strong enjoyment or liking for something. 3. a person who loves, especially a person who has or shows a warm and general affectionate regard for others.

"ow. ow. ow." the word became a mantra, a rhythmic complaint that escaped your lips as you lay sprawled on jason’s bed in the manor. the sharp sting in your thigh was unrelenting, a painful reminder of your ill-fated encounter with a kitchen knife and a tray of horribly cut brownies.

the room smelled strongly of antiseptic from the first aid kit jason had torn into moments earlier, the tangy scent mingling with the woodsy warmth of his cologne. that was one smell you could never forget. a crimson gash marred your right thigh, the jagged line oozing blood in slow paths that tickled even as they burned.

jason sat beside you, his expression torn between concern and mild exasperation as he worked quickly to stop the bleeding. the soft rustle of gauze and the metallic clink of scissors filled the otherwise quiet room, broken only by your repeated "ow"s and his hushed apologies.

"sorry, sorry," jason muttered, his voice low and sincere, though his hands remained steady. his jaw clenched as he pressed a clean cloth against your skin, the pressure sharp enough to make you wince.

"remind me to never put you in a kitchen again," he quipped, glancing up briefly with the hint of a smirk.

you rolled your eyes, propping yourself up on your elbows despite the dull ache spreading through your leg. "it was an accident," you retorted, a touch defensive. "i am perfectly capable of knifework."

he raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching as if to suppress a laugh. "yeah, sure. because slicing your own leg is totally a pro move."

"very funny," you deadpanned, though your lips quirked in a reluctant smile. okay, maybe you weren’t the most graceful person when it came to handling sharp objects. blades weren’t exactly in your forte, and your mom was usually the one wielding kitchen utensils with precision.

jason snickered, the sound soft and melodic but undeniably amused, as he leaned closer to inspect the wound. his focus was intense, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his dark lashes framed his eyes or the small scar that laid on his jawline.

the bandaging took longer than it should have—partly because he was extremely meticulous, and partly because he kept stealing glances at you, his gaze lingering a second too long. his fingers brushed against your skin, the contact feather-light yet electric, sending a shiver up your spine.

he tied the bandage in place with a precise knot, tapping your thigh gently to signal he was done. the touch was brief but warm, leaving a faint heat in its wake.

"there," he said, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "all better."

"thanks," you mumbled, sitting up fully and letting your weight settle into the mattress. your hand rested on top of your freshly bandaged thigh, as if testing the sturdiness of his work.

jason scooted closer, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. his presence felt larger than life, his shoulder brushing yours as he leaned in, a quiet tension settling between you. you could feel the air shift—charged, unspoken—but neither of you moved to break it.

he tilted his head, his eyes flicking briefly to your lips before snapping back to your face. "so… do i need to keep you on knife probation, or are you gonna behave?"

you rolled your eyes again, though your smile this time was genuine. "depends. are you volunteering to cook for me forever?"

his laugh was soft, a little breathless. "if it means you don’t bleed all over my bed again? sure."

despite jason’s earlier declaration, the two of you found yourselves in the manor’s sprawling kitchen. you’d insisted on redeeming yourself, though he stood watch like a hawk, his arms crossed and an amused grin tugging at his lips.

“alright prince,” he teased, leaning against the counter. “show me what you’ve got. just… keep the knives far, far away.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, grabbing a whisk with exaggerated confidence. “watch and learn, todd.”

the two of you fell into a rhythm, the kitchen filling with the comforting clatter of bowls and utensils. jason couldn’t resist stepping in every now and then, fixing your grip on a spatula or adding a pinch of seasoning to your mixture.

“bossy much?” you quipped as he reached around you to adjust the temperature on the oven

“Just trying to save b’s kitchen from a second massacre,” he shot back, though his tone was light.

at some point, the two of you devolved into playful chaos. A light dusting of flour ended up on jason’s shirt—your doing, of course. he retaliated with a swipe of chocolate from the batter bowl, smearing it on your cheek with a triumphant grin.

“truce!” you laughed, holding your hands up in surrender.

jason smirked, stepping closer. his eyes softened as he reached out with a damp cloth, gently wiping away the smear. “you’re a mess,” he murmured, his voice low and warm.

your breath caught as his hand lingered near your face. the playful energy between you shifted, the air thickening with something unspoken. his thumb brushed your cheek, the touch feather-light, but enough to send a jolt through you.

“jason,” you whispered, his name barely audible.

he hesitated for only a moment before leaning in, his forehead grazing yours as his eyes searched your face. “i’ve been wanting to do this all day,” he admitted, his voice barely above a breath.

then, without another word, his lips found yours. the kiss was soft at first, tentative, as though testing the waters. but it didn’t take long for it to deepen, his hand cupping your jaw while the other found its place at your waist.

the world around you seemed to melt away, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours.

when you finally pulled apart, his eyes sparkled with a mix of relief and mischief. “you know,” he said, his lips quirking into a smirk, “you’re even worse at baking than I thought.”

you laughed, your forehead resting against his. “we just made out and the first thing you do afterwards is insult me?”

“i wouldn’t call it an insult, just a mere fact.” he replied, brushing a stray hair from your face.

you shook your head, closing the distance between your lips once more.

grief (n.) deep sorrow, especially caused by someone’s death.

jason was missing. at least, that’s what it seemed like. the last time you saw him was two days ago. to say you were worried would be an understatement.

you’d even gone to the manor, desperate to find him, but neither he nor bruce were there. alfred, usually a source of calm and clarity, had only said, “i’m afraid i can’t explain,” before retreating into the quiet dignity he always carried. those words lingered in your mind, growing heavier with each repetition.

now, two days had passed. two painfully slow, gut-wrenching days where time seemed to drag its feet. sleep had become an impossibility, your bed feeling cold and empty. food felt like an afterthought—how could you eat when every thought spiraled back to jason? was he hurt? was he in trouble? was he…?

you didn’t dare finish that thought.

sitting at the kitchen island, you tapped your fingers against the cool marble countertop in a restless rhythm. the sound filled the silence of the house, a constant reminder of your unease. diana stood across from you, pouring hot chocolate into two mugs, her presence steady yet unable to dispel the dark cloud hanging over you.

she glanced up, her eyes soft with understanding. “it’ll be okay,” she said, though her voice wavered ever so slightly.

you didn’t respond, your gaze fixed on the swirls of the marble as though the patterns might hold the answers you so desperately needed.

when diana moved to the refrigerator for the whipped cream, a soft knock echoed through the house. it was almost hesitant, as though the person on the other side knew the weight of what they carried.

your head snapped up, and diana caught your movement, raising a hand. “i’ll get it,” she said gently.

you watched as she walked to the entrance hall, her back straight but her steps slower than usual, as if she sensed what was coming. she opened the door, and the chill of the evening air rushed in, making the hairs on your arms rise.

there stood bruce, dressed sharply in a suit and tie, his presence commanding as always. but tonight, his usual stoicism was cracked, a melancholic look etched into his face.

diana froze, her hand still gripping the door. “bruce?” she asked, her voice tinged with concern. “what’s wrong?”

he didn’t answer right away. his jaw clenched, and he bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes avoiding hers. for a man who had faced countless battles and tragedies, this moment seemed to unravel him. his silence spoke volumes.

diana swallowed hard, her grip on the door tightening. she didn’t press him, though every second of quiet stretched unbearably. finally, bruce exhaled shakily, breaking the silence.

“jason is dead.”

the words hung in the air, heavy and final.

diana’s breath hitched audibly, and she let out a small gasp, her hand flying to her mouth. she reached out, pulling bruce into a hug. he stiffened at first, his shoulders rigid under the weight of his grief, but then he let himself lean into her, if only for a moment.

when she pulled back, her hands lingered on his arms. “what am i going to tell y/n?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

bruce didn’t answer, his gaze dropping to the ground.

how does one tell their daughter her boyfriend is dead?

how does one tell their son's girlfriend he's dead?

your voice cut through the air, startling them both. you stood a few feet behind diana, your brow furrowed with confusion. the cold wind from the open door brushed past you, sending a shiver down your spine.

bruce turned to look at you, and for a moment, the man who was always so unshakable seemed small. his lips parted, but no sound came.

“bruce!” you said, your voice rising slightly as panic crept in. “is… is jason here?” you tilted your head, your fingers fidgeting against your palm.

the way his jaw tightened, the way diana avoided your gaze—it was enough to send your heart racing.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, forcing a shaky laugh. “why are you both looking at me like that?”

diana finally raised her head, tears brimming in her eyes. she stepped closer to you, her movements slow and deliberate.

“mom?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

she reached out, placing a gentle hand on your cheek. her touch was warm, grounding, but the look in her eyes made your stomach twist.

“he’s gone,” she said softly, her voice cracking. “jason’s dead.”

the world seemed to tilt, the weight of her words crashing into you like a tidal wave. for a moment, everything blurred—the sound of the wind, the warmth of her hand, even the beating of your own heart.

“no,” you whispered, shaking your head. “no, he’s not.”

"y/n.." diana began.

you backed away, letting her hand fall awkwardly. "no. no. you're lying," you looked over at bruce who was staring at the ground with such remorse. "you're lying, right?"

his silence was enough to make you sob.

after that day, nothing was the same. the world felt muted, like someone had dialed down the color and sound until everything was a dull, lifeless gray. days and nights blurred together, each one dragging on endlessly but offering no relief.

sleep was an elusive stranger. you spent most nights tossing and turning, tangling yourself in the sheets in a futile attempt to find a position where the ache in your chest didn’t feel so unbearable. when you did manage to drift off, it never lasted long.

the nightmares always came—flashes of his face, his laugh, his touch, and then, nothing. you’d wake up gasping, tears already streaming down your cheeks before you were fully conscious. the pillow beneath you was damp most mornings, a stark reminder of the storm you couldn’t escape.

the days weren’t any easier. you locked yourself in your room, the blinds drawn tight to keep the light out. sunlight felt wrong, almost offensive. how could the sun rise and set when your world had stopped?

your phone buzzed occasionally with concerned texts from dick and artemis, but the effort it took to type a single reply felt monumental. ‘okay.’ that was all you could manage, even though it was far from the truth.

your chest felt hollow, as though someone had reached inside and carved out every piece of you that mattered, leaving behind only a raw, jagged void. every breath was a battle—a sharp, painful reminder that you were still here, and he wasn’t.

the leather jacket he left at your house hung in your closet, untouched except for that one night when the grief was too heavy to bear. you’d pulled it down, burying your face in the worn material, desperately searching for the scent of him, the smallest piece of him that you could still hold onto.

at first, the faint smell of his cologne brought a flicker of comfort, but it was fleeting. the memories came rushing in, one after another, relentless and unforgiving. you crumpled to the floor, clutching the jacket to your chest as sobs wracked your body.

even now, the jacket remained where you’d left it—folded on the floor, too painful to look at yet impossible to put away. It was a symbol of him, of everything you’d lost, and it seemed to radiate its own grief, mirroring yours.

the hours crept by, each one heavier than the last. you existed in a haze of sorrow, your body moving through the motions of life while your mind remained stuck in the past, replaying moments with him like a scratched record. every laugh, every glance, every touch—they were all there, vivid and cruel reminders of what you’d never have again.

a year went by. then two. hen three. the grief hadn’t left, not really—it had just learned to settle in the cracks of your soul. you’d found ways to cope, ways to live. for the most part, anyway. the ache was still there, but it no longer kept you locked inside your house, staring at the ceiling, waiting for answers that would never come.

you started spending a lot of more time with dick. he had been a quiet but steady presence in the aftermath, his support unspoken yet deeply felt. he never pushed you to talk, but he always seemed to know when you needed someone to sit with you in the silence. with him, the weight felt a little lighter, the memories a little less suffocating.

about a year after jason's death, you’d met tim. the new robin. It had been a shock at first—seeing someone else in that uniform, someone who wasn’t him. but tim was different. he wasn’t trying to fill jason’s shoes; he was carving his own path, and over time, you grew close to him. he became another thread in the fragile net that kept you grounded, kept you moving forward.

life continued, in its strange, fractured way. then, one afternoon, everything shifted.

you had decided to take a walk downtown—a simple attempt to clear your head. the streets were bustling, the noise of cars and chatter filling the air. you ducked into a quiet bookstore for a while, thumbing through a few titles before stepping back out onto the pavement. you hadn't been in this particular bookstore in years. the sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky, casting a warm glow over the city.

and that’s when you saw him.

at first, it was just a figure in the crowd. but something about the way he moved caught your eye. the familiar stride. the way his head turned slightly as though he’d caught someone’s attention. your breath hitched in your throat, your heart thudding painfully in your chest.

it couldn’t be. it couldn’t be.

but it looked so much like him. too much like him.

you froze on the spot, your body rooted to the ground as the figure walked away, blending into the crowd. you wanted to move, to call out, but your legs wouldn’t listen. your hands trembled as they clutched your bag, and your vision blurred as tears welled up in your eyes.

you stumbled back into the nearest alley, your breaths coming in short, panicked gasps. leaning against the cold brick wall, you tried to steady yourself, but the world was spinning. you clenched your eyes shut, pressing the heels of your palms against them as though you could will the image away.

it wasn’t him. it could not be him.

but the seed of doubt had been planted, and it was growing, fast and wild, threatening to overtake your rationality.

by the time you made it home, you were shaking. the moment the door closed behind you; the dam broke. you collapsed onto the floor, the sobs tearing through you with a force that felt almost violent.

“jason,” you whispered, his name a prayer and a curse all at once.

the pain you’d worked so hard to manage came crashing back, sharper than ever. you cried until your throat was raw, until your body ached from the force of it. the walls of your apartment seemed to close in on you, suffocating and unforgiving. you didn’t care.

the image of the figure haunted you, replaying in your mind over and over. you wanted to believe it was him. you wanted to believe that somehow, against all odds, he was alive. but you couldn’t let yourself hope. hope was dangerous.

two days passed before you felt steady enough to leave the house. dick had invited you to the manor for dinner, saying bruce wanted to discuss something. you agreed reluctantly, still shaken from what you’d seen, but knowing you couldn’t keep isolating yourself.

seated in the dining room, you looked between bruce and dick, their expressions unusually grim.

“why do I feel like this isn’t just dinner?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood.

bruce sighed, his gaze dropping to the floor. “we’ve been tracking a new vigilante in gotham,” he said finally. “calls himself the red hood.”

the name sent a chill down your spine, but you kept your expression neutral. “and?”

dick hesitated, glancing at bruce before speaking. “he’s... unconventional. brutal. we’ve crossed paths with him a few times now, and his methods are extreme.”

“extreme how?” you pressed, your stomach knotting with unease.

“he’s not afraid to kill,” bruce said flatly. “he goes after criminals with precision and rage. he knows things about us, about gotham, that no one outside the family should know.”

the knot in your stomach tightened. “what are you trying to say?”

dick leaned forward, his voice softer now. “we think he might have a connection to jason.”

your breath hitched, and you gripped the armrest of the chair. “what kind of connection?”

bruce’s jaw tightened. “we don’t know yet. but his tactics, his targets... there are too many similarities to ignore.”

the room fell silent as you processed their words. the figure in the crowd flashed in your mind again. could it really be him?

but no, it couldn’t. jason was gone.

and yet, for the first time in three years, the possibility lingered.

love (n.) an intense emotion of affection, warmth, fondness, and regard towards a person or thing.

you couldn't bring yourself to stop thinking about that day in the bookstore and the dinner at the manor. it hit you like a train. you had truly thought you were over it.

you believed that no reminder of him was going to make you break down ever again. that melancholy and remorse? you thought it was gone. why did it have to be back?

why couldn't you be normal about it? what made this so damn difficult?

of course, you still loved him. you would never stop. you knew that for a fact. but no one told you that grief was so hard.

it felt suffocating. the weight on your shoulders came back and suddenly, you weren't so grounded anymore. god, you wanted to believe he was alive. just to make everything easier. you just wanted the cure to all of this.

your mother noticed something was off when she came to visit you, but you immediately turned her comfort down, saying it was just stress.

she knew that wasn't the case.

nevertheless, she left you alone and later that night, you found yourself in your suit on that very rooftop you and jason loved so much.

your feet dangled off of the concrete edge, staring into the night sky. the sky above was an inky black, its darkness punctuated by a few stubborn stars that managed to shine through the haze of city lights. the hum of the city rose faintly from below, but up here, it felt like the world had paused, leaving only you and the endless night.

from the rooftop, the city stretched out in every direction, its neon signs and glowing windows casting a faint orange haze over the horizon. above it all, the moon hung pale and solitary, its light soft and distant, as though reluctant to reach the ground.

it reminded you so much of him. the ability to talk to him and never know when to stop. he never failed to make you smile or laugh. god, you missed his laugh. you missed his smile and you longed for his smell.

you closed your eyes, and his face came to you, unbidden. his crooked smile, the one that always made your heart skip a beat. the way he used to look at you, like you were the only person in the world that mattered. god, you missed him. you missed everything about him.

he was so good to you, and he was gone.

your chest tightened, the hollow ache inside you growing unbearable. you leaned forward slightly, your arms wrapping around yourself as though you could hold yourself together. the rooftop had always been your sanctuary, but tonight, it felt like a prison.

you leaned back just in time to hear a rather modulated voice come from behind you.

"i thought you would've stopped coming here."

you jumped at the voice, immediately standing up. you gripped onto your lasso which laid attached to your red skirt. the rooftop was dark, save for the faint glow of the city lights below. shadows stretched across the concrete, and the figure in front of you emerged from one of them like something out of a nightmare.

fortunately, the red helmet that covered his head gave it away and ultimately, you knew who you were facing. red hood.

"what do you want?" you simply questioned, straightening your back.

he made an effort to step towards you but stopped when you put your hand up as a way to stop him. he sighed, though it was barely audible. "i'm not gonna hurt you. i would ne-" he cut himself off, looking down at the ground.

you raised your eyebrows, letting your hand make its way back to your side. your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths as your eyes locked onto the tall figure before you. you eyed him up and down.

he left no room for questioning when you heard a clank. you looked down at the ground and say that same red helmet that was just on his head, lying on the ground.

you looked up at him and your shoulders slumped. the grip on your lasso loosened and your breath hitched.

oh god, were you dreaming? surely, this couldn't be real.

standing before you was jason todd. your jason. your boy. he had certainly grown, standing at a little over 6'0, 6'1? you could see how toned he was through his suit. his hair was longer than before, and there were faint scars on his still beautiful face.

"baby..." he uttered out, biting the inside of his cheek.

how does one tell their girlfriend that they came back from the dead?

you ran over to him, wrapping your arms around him. you needed to touch him, to feel him. this was your chance. this was the cure. you felt him stiffen a bit under you before completely melting into your touch, wrapping his arms around you securely. it almost felt like he was scared to let you.

"i thought i-" your voice broke as you pulled your head back a bit to look at him. "i missed you, jace." the way his name rolled off your tongue so easily sent a chill down his spine. he missed this. he missed you.

his throat tightened as he looked down at you, guilt and regret written across his face. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, but it filled your ears like a soft melody. you had missed hearing it—hearing him. just hearing him speak to you like this, like he still cared, made everything else feel less heavy.

you tilted your head, your eyebrows furrowed with confusion. god, he missed that. "why?"

he swallowed hard, his gaze never leaving your face. “i didn’t look for you first. i should’ve. and then… i did things. horrible things. i mean, i killed people, y/n. so many people. and i—i don’t expect you to forgive me. i don’t even know if you can.” he paused, running a shaky hand through his hair. “but, but i can change. for you, i can. i just wanted you to know that. i… i just wanted to tell you that i’m still me. i’m still your jason.”

"then, that's all that matters." you stated, placing a hand on his cheek. it felt so much better to touch him. "i can't leave you. not when i just got you back." you sniffled.

you smiled for the first time, and he felt himself turn into jelly. he missed you and he missed that damn smile.

a shaky breath escaped him as his hands cupped your face, his thumb tracing your cheek softly. “fuck, i don’t deserve you,” he said hoarsely.

you shook your head, smiling through the tears that were now falling freely down your face. “you don’t have to deserve me, jason,” you whispered. “you already have me. also, language.”

he shook his head as he pulled you in close, his lips meeting yours in a soft, tentative kiss, as though afraid to push too far. but you kissed him back with all the love and longing you had kept hidden for so long. when you pulled away, both of you breathless, jason rested his forehead against yours.

“i always thought you looked good in red. i could get used to this.” you remarked, referring to the red helmet that was still laying on the red.

he smiled softly, placing a hand on the fabric of your crimson skirt. “got it from you.”

god, you loved this man.

[downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le]

Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader) - Chapter 6

Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader) Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 2946 Warnings: death, violence, fighting, bloody wounds, angst, infuriatingly oblivious love interest, slowburn Spoilers: Young Justice Seasons 1-3 plot partially, but it ended in 2022 so catch up.

Y/N Prince - miracle daughter of Wonder Woman and Steve Trevor - and Dick Grayson - first adoptive son of the Batman himself - have been best friends since day one. They went to school together, trained together, kept each other's alter ego secret from everyone else, and they founded the Young Justice alongside their friends together. 

But as time progressed, Y/N and Dick grew up and Y/N found herself wanting more than friendship with Dick. But he never seemed to indicate that he reciprocated her feelings. And when Wally died and Dick abandoned the team, Y/N realised he never would. So she heads to the one place she knows will help her become a stronger warrior so that one day she can take her mother's place: Themyscira.

Two years after his leave, Dick reaches out to his old friends to help him with a mission. But when he finds out Y/N left too, he chases after her in the hopes to bring her back.

However, when the two finally reunite, it isn't as warm as he hopes. Not to mention Themyscira becomes under siege as they go to war against Echidna, the Mother of Monsters in Greek Mythology, and her army of monstrous children.

Will Dick and Y/N be able to put their past behind them and save the Amazonians' homeland? Or will they fall, unable to tell one another their true feelings?

~~~

'...Starting tomorrow, we prepare for Echidna's war,' Queen Hippolyta announced to those in the War Chamber.

After Echidna's kraken attack, the Queen had called for an emergency meeting in the War Chamber to discuss matters. Generals and their lieutenants discussed the right protocols and procedures they would instruct their soldiers to carry out over the coming days. It was well past midnight now, but no one in the chamber looked as if sleep would come easily when they returned to their own chambers.

'For now, head back to bed. Hera knows we are going to need all of our energy to face what lies ahead.' Everyone simply bowed their heads in understanding and left the chamber. Except for Y/N.

She was staring intensely at the small sculptured map of the entire island - as if trying to commit every stair, every mountain, every grain of sand to memory - when a hand on her shoulder pulled her from her trance.

'You too, my dear,' Queen Hippolyta said gently. 'You have endured much tonight. Go. Rest.'

'What? No.' Y/N shook off her grandmother's hand and stood up tall, but she could not help rubbing her tired eyes as she strained to keep them open. 'We should be preparing now, Grandmother. Echidna will certainly not be resting before she tries to destroy all of Themyscira. I will not let her.'

'I know, dear child.' Queen Hippolyta gently cupped Y/N's face and turned her attention away from the map. 'But what good are soldiers if they do not rest? We have three days - there will be plenty of time for sleepless nights then. For now, I am telling you to rest.'

Y/N had to admit she was exhausted. She had been training all these months, but hadn't been in a real fight with real danger since she'd left the team. Her body was already starting to ache, and so she conceded. 'Is that an order from her Royal Highness?'

'It is an order from your grandmother,' the queen replied with a soft smile. She brought Y/N's forehead to her lips briefly before she finally let go. 'Rest. Our work begins tomorrow.'

Y/N nodded then headed for the War Chamber doors. Now that she'd acknowledged it, her exhaustion was now weighing on her eyes more heavily, and the thought of falling into her crisp linen bed sounded heavenly.

As soon as she opened the door to leave, however, she was met with, 'So what did you talk about?'

Dick Grayson didn't look an ounce tired as he pushed off from his place on the wall and sauntered up to her. Damn, had he waited there for three hours? It didn't matter. All that mattered was getting to her bed and he certainly wasn't going to stop her now.

'Nothing you need to worry yourself about,' Y/N deflected as she made her way down the corridor. She was hoping her stern tone would hint that she was in no mood to talk, but Dick Grayson was not one to read such obvious signs.

'What's that supposed to mean?' he asked, following swiftly after her. 'You woke up every general and their lieutenant to discuss what then? A new uniform?'

'If you want to make jokes about my people's future existence, then we definitely don't have anything to talk about,' Y/N bit back, increasing her pace as she turned around a corner.

'Then what did you guys talk about in there?' Dick insisted. Y/N had to give it to him, he was persistent. 'Look, I want to help. But how can I if you won't talk to me?'

'Just because you caught me tonight, does not mean I am obliged to answer your every question.'

'Catching you? I saved your life! Speaking of which, I think a "thank you" is at least the minimum you can say to me right now. Which, by the way, you're welcome for. But if you won't say it, then tell me why I can't possibly help you with this.'

'Because this doesn't concern you,' Y/N replied, reaching the spiral staircase that led up to floor of her chambers. She started her ascent as she continued. 'This isn't your war to fight. You weren't even meant to be here.'

'So what do I do then?' Dick asked, his tone offended as he still followed her up the stairs. 'Just jump on a sailing ship tomorrow and head back to Blüdhaven like none of this ever happened?'

'Oh, so that's where you've settled down. How noble of you.'

'I'm being serious, Y/N.' Dick grabbed Y/N's wrist with a grip tight enough to halt her charge, but loose enough to let her know she could escape any time. She had just reached the next floor when he did, leaving him two steps below her eyesight.

'So am I,' she hissed back, but her anger was superficial. Her bed was just down the corridor and Richard bloody Grayson was doing everything in his power to stop her from reaching it.

She tugged her wrist out of his grip and looked down at him with a glare so severe she hoped he would catch fire. 'Go home. To your life of freedom and abandonment, to the girl who undoubtedly is waiting for you in your disgusting apartment, to the team, I don't care! Just go.'

The pair stood looking at each for the longest time. The window beside the staircase entrance allowed the light of the full moon to shine onto Dick's flawless, sharp face. The pale light cast shadows under his eyes, hollowed his cheekbones. And for the first time since coming to the island, the cocky glint in his eyes wasn't there.

It was the most serious Y/N had ever seen him, even when they were both on the same team together doing the most craziest and dangerous missions that either of them could've died on.

He was telling her the truth, and that one fact made her soften her glare.

'Why do you hate me so much?' he asked, his voice cracking slightly as if he were on the verge of tears.

This took Y/N aback.

Hate. She'd never used the word in association with Dick. Even when he left, even when he never came back, even when he never spared her another thought or word. She wanted to slap him, tell him he was stupid because how could she ever hate him after she'd spent so much time feeling the very opposite for him?

Y/N didn't hate Dick Grayson, but she couldn't forgive him for what he'd done either.

'You left me,' she finally said, voice low so as not to release all her emotions at once. 'You left all of us behind as if we were nothing. As if we weren't family. You left when we - when I needed you the most. What? Did you expect me to just be waiting for you when you decided to come back? Were you ever going to come back, Dick? Well?'

He had no reply, only a face expressing a full range of emotions. Shock, sadness, guilt, shame.

The last one gave Y/N her answer.

It wasn't until Dick reached for her cheek that Y/N realised she was crying. She was too shocked to bat away his hand as he wiped her cheek gently, smoothing away her tears. Despite the cold night, his hand was warm, and in her moment of weakness, Y/N allowed her eyes to close for just a moment and lean into his touch.

Once or twice she'd dreamed of a moment like this, where Dick would hold her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. But that's all it was, a dream.

Remembering herself, Y/N pulled away from Dick's hand and hastily wiped her tears. His hand hung in the air for a moment longer before letting it fall to his side in defeat.

'I should go rest,' Y/N said after an eternity of silence. 'We start preparations and training at dawn. I will make sure someone sets you on your way early tomorrow. It will be as if you never had come to Themyscira.'

'But I will remember,' Dick said gently. 'I will know what is happening.'

Y/N nodded in agreement. 'But it is not your war to fight.'

Dick stared at her, the blues in his eyes swirling like tumultuous waves as if battling with himself. Eventually he nodded and took a step down.

'We both leave at dawn, then?' he asked.

'So it would seem,' Y/N answered.

'And I will never see you again?'

Y/N hadn't contemplated this, but now that it was out there, there indeed was a high chance that they would never see each other again. Not only him, but the rest of the team, her mother.

Y/N swallowed the lump in her throat and said, 'It is a sacrifice every warrior offers up before every battle.'

It wasn't a straight answer, but it was enough for Dick it seemed as he said, 'Then I wish you the best of luck, Princess.'

Y/N didn't like how distant he sounded when he used her title. It wasn't him, it wasn't her. All of it was wrong, but had it not been herself that insisted he call her by such? To put distance between them? To communicate her anger with him, and make it clear that she wanted nothing to do with him ever again?

She'd dug her own grave, and so now she must lay in it.

'You too, Nightwing,' she managed to get out, and then Dick was descending, leaving Y/N alone with her jumbled thoughts and emotions on the stairs. She'd been exhausted before, but now she was wide awake.

Y/n stayed at the top of the stairs well after Dick's footsteps stopped echoing, unable to move over the threshold of the past into the future. She'd just unofficially said goodbye to her best friend and the love of her life. So much was left unsaid - maybe for the best, or possibly it would be her biggest regrets if she didn't make it through this war.

Y/N finally managed to pull herself away from the staircase at that thought. I must rest now, she told herself as she finally made it to her chambers. Tomorrow, I have a war to try and win.

~~~

T minus three days until Echidna's War

Y/N doesn't remember when she fell asleep, but she does remember taking a long time to do so after her conversation with Dick. All that had been said - all that hadn't been said - had left her tossing and turning for a long time after she slipped into her linen bed.

However, she was very much awake the moment she felt warm sun rays bathe her skin.

Her eyes flew open as realisation shocked her into action. I'm late! Y/N looked out the window briefly and saw the sun high in the sky; it was well and truly past dawn.

Faster than she'd ever done before, Y/N dressed in her warrior uniform, grabbed her sword that she always had on hand in case of an emergency, and sprinted through the palace and down to the training grounds.

The other women were never going to let her live this down if they were to survive Echidna's war, but they were not going to survive by sleeping in. It only appeared to be early morning, but the warriors would've been working for a solid few hours by now. Precious hours that Y/N had wasted sleeping in, instead of training or making blockades or literally doing anything more helpful.

By the time she reached the training grounds, she was the most out of breath she'd ever been in her life. Y/N quickly spotted Calliope supervising a group of young warriors as they practised using monster nets against some wooden dummies.

'Well look who finally decided to wake from their beauty sleep,' Calliope said with a smirk as Y/N approached her.

'I slept pretty bad last night,' Y/N explained. 'And no one came to wake me up. Where is the group I'm meant to be taking?'

Still smirking, Calliope pointed to a large crowd seemingly gathered around one person. Whoever it was, they had to be interesting, as women and young girls were enamoured with whoever was talking.

'Who is that?' Y/N asked, unable to see the instructor through the thick crowd.

'The reason you slept bad last night,' Calliope answered smoothly, and Y/N felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment and shock.

Not wanting to be teased any further, Y/N staunched over to the crowd and forced the women to part so she could reach the front of the crowd. And there in the centre on the ground, pointing at seemingly random points on a map of Themyscira, was Dick Grayson.

'...Now we don't know specifically what Echidna is going to throw at us,' Dick said to the group, 'but my guess is she is going to send big and small creatures alike. With the small creatures, I suggest setting up traps here, here, and here where the passages are narrow and there is only one way out. We'll lure them into the passageway and then take them out from above.'

'What if they can fly?' one soldier asked.

'Then we lure them to places like the caverns on the east side of the island. Or we make nets to secure the creature's exits out over the passages that have no roofs. Let's go scout those areas today and start setting up what we need weapons and equipment wise there. Any questions?'

'I do,' Y/N found herself saying, finally drawing everyone's - including Dick's - attention to her arrival. 'What do you think you're doing?'

Dick stood up and made to step towards her. 'Y/N, I-'

'Give us a minute,' Y/N directed at the crowd, and they all quickly dispersed at her stern tone. When everyone had either started their own conversations or started sparring to kill the time, Y/N finally addressed Dick.

'What in the name of Hera do you think you're doing ordering my soldiers around?' she seethed, though she was more angry at herself still than him. 'I thought I told you to go home. You're meant to be on a ship sailing back to Blüdhaven by now.'

'I was,' Dick agreed, and that seriousness from last night returned to his stupidly beautiful face once more. It made him look older, wiser. He still looked good, much to Y/N's chagrin. 'But what you said last night got me thinking that... that maybe I need to stay.'

'What?' Y/N couldn't believe what she was hearing. Was he mad? 'Dick, this isn't some silly little mission to complete. We are preparing for war.'

'I know that,' he insisted. 'But... all I've done since Wally's death is run away. It's true; I left the team, I abandoned you - all because I was too scared to try and be brave. Brave... like you.'

Y/N was too shocked to respond, so Dick continued.

'You may hate me, Y/N,' he said, and the look in his eyes surprisingly pained her, 'but I want to stay, I want to help.'

'If you're doing this to make yourself feel better, then you can just leave now-'

'I'm not, Y/N,' Dick interrupted her, now looking into her eyes with such sincerity she knew he was telling the truth. 'I'm doing this because it is the right thing to do. I also just can't accept that I will never see you again. You're too important to me, to the world, to leave behind.'

Y/N's breath hitched as Dick took a step closer to her, never once breaking eye contact. 'I won't abandon you. Never again.'

Those words alone almost broke her facade of cool and uncaring. He meant it. He truly meant it. If he had not just said the words, she would've seen it in his eyes for it was there - the same sentiment.

He would not leave her. Regardless of Themyscira's fate, he would not leave her.

Her Dick Grayson was back.

She regathered her composure by taking a small step away from him. He might be back, but Dick would have to prove himself still if he wanted her back in any capacity.

'Just because I was late, that doesn't mean you take over my training,' she muttered grumpily.

Dick chuckled. 'I didn't steal them. I spoke with Queen Hippolyta herself. She thought it would be a wonderful idea if I stayed to help.'

Y/N sighed in defeat. 'Of course she did,' she muttered. She made a mental note to have a word with her grandmother later about this.

For now, she - and now Dick, it seemed - had a training to conduct.

She spun around to the slightly dispersed crowd of warriors and called out, 'All right. Everyone, grab what you need for the scout today. Half of you will go with Nightwing here to the East Caverns and map out our traps there. The rest of you will come with me to the Northern Passages between the mountains. We leave in ten minutes.'

'Yes, Princess!'

'Well, then, Nightwing,' Y/N said as the group dispersed again to gather their equipment, 'are you ready to go win a war?'

Dick flashed her his signature smile, though his eyes had a renewed sparkle and Y/N wondered if it possibly was because of her.

'Always, Princess.'

'Don't call me that.'

'Oh, but I insist, Princess.'

'One more remark and I'll order the warriors to set you up as bait for the monsters.'

'Whatever you say... Princess.'

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

Tag List:

@valiantbouquetcloud | @epicy0n | @resistanythingbuttemptation | @lunaizhere | @nameunknownsthings | @tqrgvryen | @pariahsparadise | @edgycat | @b4tm4nn | @cynwing | @lilylovelyxo | @herondale-lightworm | @animeflower26 | @tiny-marie | @jedigrayson

[amphibiahawks321]

[Dianah after defeating an enormous octopus mutant with the justice league]

[Dianah and the others covered in slice marks and some bruises]

Dianah : Phew... Well isn't that just working up a sweat!

Hal : working up?! I've been sweating since we started attacking that thing 5 Minutes in!

Dianah : Do not worry, at the end all of us are victorious!

Dianah : And of course, What better way to celebrate a glorious victory than having ourselves a little reward!

[Y/N runs towards her]

M!Reader : Pant.... Dang! You guys okay?! Pant....

Bruce : we're fine....

Hal : Speak for yourself man!

M!Reader : Oh thank goodness, Dianah are you okay–....!!!?!?'

[Dianah starts carrying Y/N over her shoulder]

Dianah : Chuckles like I said, we all deserve a treat after that battle!

[Dianah walks away with a confused yet also flustered Y/N on her shoulder]

Hal : Hey wait a minute! At least help us with the gigantic body–

[Bruce placed a hand on Hal's shoulder]

Bruce : let em be

[redr0sewrites]

As you're writing for DC now, can we get pegging headcannons for Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy & Wonder Woman x male! reader?

🥀A/n: UHM YES HELLO??)? i genuinely cooked so hard w this one ngl.

🥀Character(s): Harley Quinn x reader, Poison Ivy x reader, Wonder Woman x reader

🥀Cw: smut, pegging, sub!male!reader, slight feminization in HQ's part, impact play, bondage, cock/strap used interchangeably, strap sucking, oral fixation mention, dirty talk

🥀minors dni

Harley Quinn:

Harley would be soo mean about it, she's definitely mocking you and giggling the whole time while forcing you to take her strap. she takes prep very seriously, and would absolutely make you wear a butt plug beforehand to make sure you're nice and prepped for her

speaking of her strap, it is very her. its a bright red with glitter, and is definitely at least 8 inches. it has a very prominent tip with the slightest arch that can reach all the sweet spots inside you. you cannot tell me she wouldn't buy a vibrating strap for shits and giggles, she loves to torture you (lovingly ofc)

definitely buys you one of those monster dildos/straps as a gag gift, im talking a full 12 inches with tentacles and ridges. it starts off as a joke, but it isn't long before curiosity gets the best of both of you and she's bending you over the mattress, splitting you in two with her "monster cock" as she calls it

Harley has a brutal pace when pegging you, she's fast and rough and oh so mean. definitely hits it from the back, she looves doggy style and when you get all weak and shaky under her touch? it only makes her even meaner

likes slapping your ass and pushing you around while she pegs you. is infatuated by the sight of her cock sliding in and out of your hole, and loves to watch your ass cheeks jiggle with each thrust. if you're down for it, Harley would definitely buy you a pretty collar she can tug and play with while she fucks you senseless. she loves to mark whats hers, and makes sure to leave a heft amount of bite marks and hickeys across your necks and shoulders.

buys you lingerie just to peg you in it. lacy thigh garters with pretty panties in the color scheme of her clown costume, with a frilly bralette to match. Harley doesn't care how embarrassed you get, she's fucking you silly while switching between calling you her pretty princess or her dirty slut

loves groping your pecs and calling them tits while she fucks you, and when you whimper or complain she coos about how you're such a whiny whore. claims you "cry like a girl", and mocks you for being all needy and depraved

"aw, takin' me up the ass so well, dolly. betcha never played with your prostate like this before, huh toots? who knew all it took was f'me to fuck ya, and then you'd behave like the little bitch you are.."

very rarely touches your cock while pegging you, she's confident you can get off from the prostate stimulation alone. however, she's definitely down for double tapping and would love to fuck you from both ends with her strap and a sounding rod one day

while she can be very rough and degrading, i do think Harley finds importance in aftercare and is very sweet with you once it's all over. she'll tease you a bit, but will get you a warm towel to wipe you off and bring you some food and water. she has a very high libido though, so showering after sex with her often leads to another round... not that you'd mind

"you really are a little slut, aren't cha?" sharp, red nails leave a crescent shaped mark on your hips while Harley's free hand presses down on your lower back, forcing you into a deeper arch as she fucks you senseless. your drooling and moaning into the pillows while your thighs shake from the brutal pace she's set. the lacy thong she had bought you for the occasion had been torn off, but the thigh high socks, garters, and glittery, sheer bra remained untouched- for now.

your cock twitches, pressed between your tummy and the mattress, and you can't help but hump slightly, desperate for friction. you can't tell if you're grinding downwards against the bed for relief for your hard cock, or if you're grinding backwards for more friction against your abused hole. Harley leans onto you a little more, forcing your ass higher into the air so her strap can reach even deeper inside your gummy walls.

Harley watches, mesmerized, as her thick cock slides in and out of your leaking hole, ramming against that sweet spot inside you with every thrust. she notices your desperation, watching closely as you grind like a bitch in heat. the hand on your hip suddenly moves to grasp your leaking cock, and she snickers when you whimper. your dick twitches in her palm, desperate for any form of stimulation.

"aw, are you gonna cum all over yourself? jus' from me fucking ya silly?" she sneers as you grind your cock against her hand, mind lost in pleasure. "what a pretty, dumb whore you are," Harley coos, her pace unrelenting as you begin to sob. "go on doll, you can cum. but don't think 'm done with ya just yet~"

Poison Ivy/Pamela Isley:

Pamela probably wouldn't know much about pegging to begin with but is definitely willing to try it. she's a very confident and self assured dom, so as long as you're comfortable she's down to try pretty much anything

her strap is very pretty, a matte black or green with a few prominent veins. i think her strap would be about 7-8 inches but no more than that, but it would have a decent girth to it as well. big enough to where you feel the stretch, but not so much that it hurts (unlike Harley who wants you to suffer)

fingers you for prep, loves stretching you out and making you cum before she even puts her strap in. her fingers are long, slender, and very pretty, perfect for hitting that sweet spot inside you

i think Pamela would prefer to have you in her lap when she pegs you, with your hands tied behind your back with her vines. she's not as mean as much as she's condescending, switching between praising and degrading you so much it makes your mind all fuzzy

loves to tie you down in general. Pamela very rarely lets you touch her while she's pegging you, instead keeping you bound (and sometimes gagged) and completely at her mercy

COCKWARMING!!!! teases you mercilessly while forcing you to sit on her lap, staying immobile for what feels like hours while she toys with your nipples or kneads the flesh of your thighs. she'll occasionally stroke your cock with her nails, dragging upwards from the base to your twitching tip, only to stop when you do so much as gasp or whine. absolutely makes you suckle on her tits, the sight of you looking up at her with big, innocent doe eyes with one of her breasts in your mouth makes her absolutely feral

loveeesss when you struggle to ride her, grinding down on her strap and blushing like a mess. Pamela forces you to make eye contact with her as she finds it very intimate, and will get irritated if you look away or cover your eyes. she'll also get annoyed if you try to hide your moans or stifle any of your noises

if youre being bratty, she will sometimes offer to let you "take control" and fuck yourself, claiming that "since you're a big boy and can handle yourself, you can pleasure yourself as well". you both know that she's gonna take over for you eventually, but she just enjoys watching you squirm and struggle

puts your cock in a chastity cage while she pegs you so you can't even cum, but will be praising you for taking her so well the entire time. i think she'd find twisted pleasure in watching you cry or beg, so she's definitely edging you until your pleading with her to cum

makes you call her ma'am or mistress, and very occasionally will refer to herself as mommy

Pamela is a little bit into breathe play/choking imo. not enough to make you pass out or hurt you too badly, but definitely to the point where her hand is clamped tight around your throat as she fucks you. she'll keep her hand tight on your throat to help maneuver you as well, especially when she's trying to switch positions or force you to make eye contact

she hates when you get shy or awkward. shes splitting you open on her cock and you're looking away from her? how rude! she's pegging you hard until you apologize, murmuring in your ear and treating you almost like a child. she whispers to you about how she's seen you in even more compromising positions, so don't look away, or else she'll be forced to punish you.

definitely has a high stamina, and probably rides you for a little after pegging you just to bring you both to one more release. Pamela is very cleanly in my opinion, so she definitely prefers to shower or bathe after sex. she's very sweet w aftercare, and will massage you if you're sore.

the familiar feeling of vines wrapping around your wrists makes you shudder, nuzzling deeper into the crook of her neck. Pamela's flowery scent overwhelms your senses as her cock nudges against your prostate, yet she refuses to move. your cock, erect and needy, slaps against your tummy as you squirm.

"i need you to look at me, darling," she coo's, slender hands finding purchase on your hips. "mhm," you murmur, forcing yourself to meet her gaze. "oh? do you want me to fuck you or not?" you realize your mistake, and quickly correct yourself.

"yes, ma'am. m'sorry f'not addressing you," you murmur, and Pamela smirks. "oh, good boy. so polite~" she murmurs, rocking her hips up against yours, making you whine. "good boys deserve rewards, don't you think?"

Wonder Woman/Diana Prince:

listen, i feel like Diana is more experienced than she lets on. theres no way she's never pegged anyone before- this is Wonder Woman we're talking about.

Diana cares mostly about your comfort and pleasure, she's definitely a pleasure dom and wants to make sure you're satisfied. if you're into it, she's down to try it.

her strap is long, i'd say about 9 or maybe even more inches with a prominent tip and a few ridges. i don't think its too thick, but there's definitely enough girth where theres a bit of a stretch, especially at the base. i also think its a plain matte black, she isn't one for extravagant colors and such

very gentle, and cares a lot about prep. definitely fingers you beforehand to stretch you out, and makes sure to use a comfortable amount of lube. i also think she's the type to have you suck her off, even though she doesn't feel anything its SO attractive to see you on your knees and slobbering all over her strap. def fucks your face a little, claiming she needs to make sure her strap is all slick for entry- but really she just loves feeding into your oral fixation

Diana prefers simple missionary position when pegging you, there's something very intimate about watching your expressions and holding intense eye contact. she isn't opposed to the mating press either, and she loves how the angle allows her to fuck you deeper. she often isn't aware of her own strength and, much to your delight, tends to bully her cock deeper inside you by force of sheer will. you are undeniably going to be sore once she's done

wraps her arm beneath you to pull you up against her chest, supporting bot of your weights with just one arm so you can suck on her tits. definitely shoved her boobs into your face, and whether or not that's intentional or not it up to you

speaking of, Diana is literally soooo strong its uncanny. while she prefers the intimacy of the bed, she can definitely peg you up against the wall and hold you up without breaking a sweat. she loves how each thrust causes your hips to slam against the wall, and will force you to wrap your legs around her waist so she can reach even deeper inside you

she's very adamant about praising you, and making sure you know just how much she loves you. Diana definitely has pegged you in front of a floor to ceiling mirror, forcing you to watch her simultaneously peg you and jack you off while praising you the entire time.

"you are taking me so well, beloved, you're so strong and gorgeous... absolutely divine.."

maybe im crazy but. Diana with a breeding kink. HEAR ME OUTTTT. she knows its biologically impossible for her to impregnate you or even cum inside you, but that doesn't stop her from buying one of those straps that allows her to "cum" to satisfy those urges. and satisfy it does. the next thing you know she's fuckinv you absolutely silly, praising you for taking her so well while turning you into her own personal cumdump. its not so bad when she's cooing to you how gorgeous you look like this, and how much she wants to fill you up...

out of the three, Diana is by far the best at aftercare. she'll get you food and water before wiping you down and running you a bath, and then switching the sheets and blankets while you get in the tub before joining you. she gives wonderful massages, and praises you so much you nearly cry.

"your taking me so well, darling," Diana murmurs, pressing a kiss to your brow. you whine, your cock slapping against your tummy as she gazes down st you intently. her thrusts begin to pick up speed and your back arches, desperate to feel her even deeper. Diana slides one hand beneath your thigh, hooking it over her shoulder before repeating the motion with your other leg, until she has you folded in half and is practically splitting you in half on her strap.

the new position allows her to practically rearrange your guts as she drills into you, your gummy walls clamping down around her cock as she whispers sweet nothings into your ear. "you're such a good boy, so pretty f'me," she sighs against your skin. she very rarely slurs her words, but she's caught up in watching you unwind with each thrust. the pure ecstasy on your face is reflected in your wanton moans, and she continues to indulge you. you feel your release approaching as your cock twitches, desperate for attention.

Diana notices immediately, wrapping a hand around your base and pumping your length. "go on, darling, let go for me~" she coos, and you do, spilling onto yourself and making a mess. Diana gently fucks you through your orgasm, watching intently as you come down from your high. "you did so well dearest, i'm so proud.."

ok why did i cook with this hello⁉️ i genuinely love this so much like aaaa i need all of them in my bed asap

[nosyrobin]

I NEED WONDER BOY READER AND HOW THEY MET DAMIAN AND JON!!

“Is that a girl?” “IM NOT A GIRL?!”

Summary: meeting the new addition to the duo, there’s already wild first impressions

Genre: fluff

Pair: Superson trio. (Supersons x Wonderboy!reader)

Damian and Jon were in the watchtower, practically there because their fathers had a meeting. But slowly the meeting felt longer, Damian and Jon sat across from each other. Jon was asleep while Damian was awake. He dared not to close his eyes and fall asleep to an “important” meeting with his father. After the adults were done talking, Diana looked over at the supersons. She smiled and points to the two boys, “Yknow, I have a child of my own. Not very social, but would make a good addition to these two.” Immediately Damian snapped his head at the Amazon woman.

Clark smiles warmly, picking up his son who is still knocked out. “Oh yeah! Y/N. I think so too.” Damian raised a brow. He didn’t want to seem curious about this “Y/N” kid he was hearing about. But learning that the child is half Amazon or fully Amazon. He smirked, another kid to join “his” team. Amazing, maybe he can show his father that he can be a true leader. As the others leave the watch tower. Bruce drives back to the bat cave as Damian looks ahead. “Father.” Bruce hummed for his son to continue. “…when will I meet wonder woman’s heir.” Bruce smirked. “Eager are we?” Damian scoffed, now looking out the window. “Not like that father. Its just..I wanna see how she is. I wanna see if she’s just like her mother.”

Bruce held his tongue. He knew whatever happens next would be a surprise for his son. “Yes, I can see your curiosity about Y/N’s personality. But I assure you that you would be shock at how she acts.”

And oh boy would the two supersons would be shocked. Now it’s a new day, Jon and Damian were in their costumes. Batman, aka Damian’s father, aka Bruce Wayne himself asked the boys to meet him in the batcave. They did as they walked inside to see the present trinity of heroes. Batman had his stoic face and Superman was smiling. Wonder Woman was standing in-front of someone who clearly had the same material outfit as her. But when the Amazon lady moved, that’s when the two boys caught the beautiful sight of the child of the Amazon. They looked exactly like Diana. But wore pants other than a skirt. And looked more masculine, but the face is what threw the super off. Along with the boy wonder. Jon pointed a finger at the kid who seemed a little older than them. 11 at most. “Is that a girl?”

……..

“IM NOT A GIRL?!” The Amazon yelled shocked. The adults let out chuckles, even the Batman let a small one out before regaining his face. Jon felt heat hit his face of embarrassment, Damian showed shock before he switched his expression. “Wow superboy. I thought you would use your x ray vision.” Jon, still flustered looked at his best friend. “X ray vision is not supposed to be used like that Robin!” The older Amazon male snickered, which brought the boy’s attention to the male. “Jeez, what a first impression.” Wonderboy says. He walks up, holding his hand out. “Sup, I’m wonderboy. Son of Wonder Woman. But honestly, I already know your identities. Doesn’t take a genius to know.” The boy says. Jon didn’t care about his identity being known as of the minute. His manners were taking over as he shook the Boy’s hand.

“I’m superboy, Jonathan Kent. But you can call me Jon when we aren’t superheroes!” He giddily says. The boy only nods, “Okay Jon. I’m Y/N Prince. But you probably heard my name already.” Y/N winked at the super, Jon felt heat hit his face again. His ears tinted red as he quickly pulls his hand back. Damian moved forward, his arms crossed looking at the boy in-front of him. “So, you know who I am?” His face hardens. Y/N snorted with a smirk, a smirk that lifted one side of his lips to his ear. “Course I do, Damian Wayne.” Y/N ruffled the hair of the tanned boy. Damian huffs and immediately pushes the male’s hands off his head. His ears are a little red but it soon calms down. “Funny how I’m the oldest of this trio. Was hoping you guys would be at least my exact age. But that’s okay.” The Amazon boy shrugged and started to float.

Jon’s eyes light up, immediately started to float off the ground. “You can fly?! I mean of course you can fly, you’re wonder woman’s son! Omg we can fly around and catch bad guys! Have flying races! There’s so much things!” Jon was so excited to have an another flying person like him. And his age range as well! Damian clicked his tongue in distaste. Damian wasn’t jealous that his best friend was practically flying around the bat with the new addition. The superson trio was so caught up knowing about each other that they didn’t know their parents had left.

As Damian stare at the flying boys, Y/N smiles down at the boy wonder. The Amazon male swooped down and lifted the bird in his arms. “Aww birdy don’t be sad you can’t fly.” Y/N coos playfully, Damian scoffs. He can feel his facade melt, Jon chuckles as the two flying boys flew around the bat cave. Damian was fully relaxed in the boy’s arms, leaning his head against the amazon’s chest.

“Boy. It’s time to go home.” The flying boys stopped their flying. Damian immediately realized his softened demeanor and pushed himself off the Amazon male. Landing on his feet like a cat, Bruce raised a brow under his cowl at the quick switch up. Damian could only just stand there as Clark and Diana came in the batcave. It seems their little meet up to hang out has ended. Jon frowns, “Awe man…” Jon looks at Y/N. “Think we can hangout tomorrow? I have these comic books I want to show you!” Y/N nods. “Sure man!” Clark and Diana fist bumped each other, smiling as Jon hugged the Amazon boy goodbye.

After the Amazons are gone, leaving just the supers and bats. Jon pulls his dad’s cape. “Could he come to our house? PLEASEE” Clark chuckled and patted his son. “Sure sport. Sure.” Damian had his arms crossed. Looking down, Bruce placed a hand on his shoulder. “Do you want Y/N to come over as well?” Damian stayed quiet before a curt nod was received. Bruce smiled. “Alright then, I’ll set up your play date after Jon’s.” The Kents were now gone, leaving the Waynes to their home.

Neither the less of tonight, Damian was interested in the Amazon male. His charming smile, his compassionate nature , his calming attitude that he oddly find..attractive. Jon felt the same way, his eyes were blown out wide. You would’ve seen a tail behind him wagging when he sees that the male was strong just like him. But of course Y/N is strong like him! Y/N’s an Amazon, he’s a kryptonian. Plus he loves his heart beat makes him calm. Hopefully he can get a playdate with him soon!

This trio would be legendary for the future of heroes.

[urdreamydoodles]

DC Comics Characters x Fem!OC

You hurt yourself doing home renovations

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Kal-El (Clark Kent), Barry Allen, Diana of Themyscira, Arthur Curry, Hal Jordan, Oliver Queen, John Constantine, Roy Harper, Koriand'r (Starfire), Kara Zor-El (Supergirl), Slade Wilson, Kent Nelson (Dr. Fate), Rachel Roth, Zatanna Zatara & Wally West

Bruce Wayne aka. Batman

- Bruce notices the injury immediately; his sharp, calculating eyes miss nothing. “You’re hurt,” he says, his tone low but with an edge of worry that only someone close to him might detect. He takes your hand gently but firmly, examining the bandage with the practiced ease of someone who’s patched himself up countless times. “What happened?” he asks, his voice even, though his jaw tightens. You explain it was a minor accident during your renovation project, but he doesn’t look convinced.

- Without a word, Bruce retrieves a medical kit and kneels in front of you. His movements are efficient, his touch steady but surprisingly gentle. “This could’ve been worse,” he says as he rewraps the bandage, his voice tinged with a seriousness that makes your heart ache. “You need to be more careful.” It’s not just a suggestion—it’s a command born of a deep fear he rarely voices.

- “I’m helping you finish this,” he declares, standing and rolling up his sleeves. His presence is commanding, as always, and there’s no room for argument. Watching Bruce work is like watching a master strategist; every movement is calculated, every decision deliberate. Despite his seriousness, he pauses occasionally to ask if you’re okay, his concern manifesting in small but meaningful ways.

- As you work together, Bruce’s reserved demeanor softens slightly. He shares stories from his own mishaps at Wayne Manor, a rare glimpse into the man behind the mask. “Alfred still teases me about the time I tried to fix a chandelier,” he says, a faint smile tugging at his lips. It’s in these moments that you see the man behind the Bat—the man who loves you fiercely, even if he struggles to show it.

- That evening, as you sit in the newly completed space, Bruce wraps an arm around your shoulders. “You mean everything to me,” he says quietly, his voice filled with a rare vulnerability. “I can’t lose you.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips warm and firm against your skin. Bruce’s love is steadfast, protective, and unyielding—a shield against the darkness that surrounds him.

Kal-El (Clark Kent) aka. Superman

- Clark’s face falls the moment he notices your injury. “What happened?” he asks, his voice filled with concern. His large, gentle hands take yours, his thumb brushing softly against the bandage. When you explain it was just a small accident during your renovation, his brow furrows in worry. “You should’ve called me,” he says, his voice warm but firm. “I would’ve been here in seconds.”

- He insists on checking your hand, his touch impossibly gentle. “I know it’s not serious, but even small injuries can hurt,” he says, his blue eyes meeting yours with a tenderness that makes your heart swell. As he examines the wound, his movements are deliberate, careful—a reflection of the restraint he always practices to keep his immense strength in check.

- “I’m not letting you finish this alone,” Clark declares, his easy smile returning. Watching him work is a sight to behold—his strength and speed make quick work of the tasks, but he’s careful to include you in the process. “You know, you’re pretty amazing for taking this on yourself,” he says, his admiration clear. “But maybe next time, let me do the heavy lifting.”

- Clark fills the room with his presence, his laughter ringing out as he shares stories of his childhood on the farm. “Pa used to say I could fix anything, but I don’t think he meant it literally,” he jokes, his grin infectious. His positivity is contagious, turning the task into a joyful experience rather than a chore.

- As the day winds down, Clark pulls you into his arms, holding you close as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. “You scared me today,” he admits, his voice soft. “You’re my world, and I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt.” His love is vast and unwavering, a force of nature as steady and comforting as the sun.

Barry Allen aka. Flash

- Barry is at your side before you even realize he’s noticed your injury. “Hey, what’s this?” he asks, his voice tinged with concern as he gently lifts your hand. His blue eyes dart to the bandage, then back to your face. “You’ve been holding out on me, haven’t you?” he teases, but his worry is evident. “How’d this happen?”

- In a blur, he’s retrieved the first aid kit, his hands moving at super-speed to clean and rewrap your wound. “Don’t worry, you’re in good hands,” he says with a wink, though his focus is absolute. Barry’s always been quick—literally and emotionally—but when it comes to you, he takes his time, ensuring every detail is perfect. “You’ve got to let me know when you need help,” he says, his tone soft but sincere.

- “Alright, you’re officially benched,” Barry announces with a grin. “I’m finishing this for you.” He’s a whirlwind of energy as he tackles the project, moving so fast that you can barely keep track. But he makes sure to slow down just enough to include you, cracking jokes and asking your opinion at every step.

- Barry’s lighthearted nature turns the renovation into a fun adventure. “You know, if this whole superhero thing doesn’t work out, I might have a future in carpentry,” he says, laughing as he perfectly aligns a frame in a fraction of a second. His joy is infectious, and you find yourself smiling despite the day’s earlier chaos.

- At the end of the day, Barry pulls you into his arms, his touch warm and reassuring. “You’re my lightning rod,” he says softly, his words carrying the weight of his feelings. “I need you safe, always.” His love is fast and electrifying, but it’s also deeply grounding—a steady current that ties him to you, no matter how quickly the world moves around him.

Diana of Themyscira aka. Wonder Woman

- Diana’s gaze sharpens the moment she sees your bandaged hand. “What happened?” she asks, her voice steady but filled with concern. She moves closer, taking your hand in hers with a warrior’s precision and a lover’s tenderness. When you explain the accident, she frowns, her lips pressing into a determined line. “You should have called for me,” she says, her voice soft but firm.

- She kneels before you, her hands strong yet gentle as she examines your injury. “Even the smallest wounds must be treated with care,” she says, her tone carrying the wisdom of centuries. As she cleans and rewraps the bandage, her movements are deliberate, each one filled with a quiet reverence for your well-being. “Your safety matters to me,” she adds, her eyes meeting yours with unwavering sincerity.

- “Come,” Diana says, rising gracefully to her feet. “We will finish this together.” She takes the lead with effortless strength and grace, her presence commanding yet reassuring. Watching her work is mesmerizing; every movement is precise, every decision thoughtful. “This is good work you’ve started,” she says, her voice warm with pride. “But let me ease your burden.”

- Diana shares stories of Themyscira as you work, her voice rich with history and passion. “On my island, we build with our hands and our hearts,” she says, her smile radiant. “Each task is an opportunity to honor the strength within us.” Her words inspire you, her belief in your capabilities unwavering.

- That evening, Diana draws you into a gentle embrace, her arms strong and protective. “You are precious to me,” she says, her voice a soft melody. “I cannot bear the thought of you in pain.” She presses a kiss to your forehead, her lips lingering as if to seal her vow. Diana’s love is fierce and enduring, a flame that burns brightly and warmly, illuminating every corner of your heart.

Arthur Curry aka. Aquaman

- Arthur notices the bandage on your hand the moment he walks through the door, his sharp, sea-green eyes narrowing in concern. “What happened, love?” he asks, his deep voice steady but tinged with worry. When you explain the accident, he shakes his head with a low chuckle. “You’re as stubborn as the tides, you know that?” he says, though his expression softens as he takes your hand in his rough but gentle grip.

- “Let me see,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. He inspects your injury carefully, his calloused fingers brushing against your skin. “It’s not bad, but you’ve got to be more careful,” he mutters, his voice filled with a protective edge. Arthur’s care is practical, but there’s an underlying tenderness that speaks volumes about how deeply he feels for you.

- “Alright, you’re done for the day,” he declares, folding his arms across his broad chest. “I’ll handle the rest.” Despite your protests, Arthur’s determination is unyielding. Watching him work is a marvel; his strength makes heavy tasks look effortless, but he’s surprisingly meticulous, his movements precise and deliberate. “This is easy compared to wrangling sea monsters,” he teases, flashing you a grin.

- As he works, Arthur regales you with tales of Atlantis, his deep voice resonating like the waves. “Did I ever tell you about the time Mera and I rebuilt the coral spires after a storm?” he asks, his laughter rumbling like distant thunder. His stories are vivid and captivating, his love for his home—and for you—evident in every word.

- That evening, Arthur pulls you into his arms, his embrace as warm and encompassing as the ocean itself. “You scared me,” he admits, his voice low and serious. “You’re my anchor, and I can’t bear to see you hurt.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering as if to soothe away all your worries. Arthur’s love is as vast and enduring as the sea, a force of nature that surrounds and protects you.

Hal Jordan aka. Green Lantern

- Hal’s easygoing demeanor shifts the moment he notices the bandage on your hand. “What’s this?” he asks, his voice filled with concern as he takes your hand gently. His green eyes scan the wound, his expression a mix of worry and amusement. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to play with sharp objects?” he teases, though his grip tightens protectively.

- “Alright, let me play doctor,” he says with a wink, summoning a glowing green construct of a first aid kit. Hal’s touch is careful as he rewraps your bandage, his usual bravado giving way to surprising precision. “You’ve got to be more careful,” he says softly, his tone carrying a weight that shows how much he cares.

- “Looks like I’m your personal handyman today,” Hal declares, conjuring a glowing hammer with a flourish. He tackles the project with his trademark confidence, his constructs turning the mundane task into something almost magical. “See? Easy,” he says, flashing you a cocky grin. “You’ve got the best in the business on your side.”

- As he works, Hal keeps you entertained with his endless banter and larger-than-life stories. “There was this one time on Oa…” he begins, spinning a tale that’s equal parts unbelievable and hilarious. His humor lightens the atmosphere, and his laughter is infectious, making even the simplest moments feel special.

- Later, as you sit together under the soft glow of his ring, Hal wraps an arm around you, pulling you close. “You know, you’re my reason to keep coming back to Earth,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “I don’t want anything happening to you.” His love is like his willpower—unshakable, glowing brightly and guiding you through even the darkest times.

Oliver Queen aka. Green Arrow

- “Whoa, hold up—what happened to your hand?” Oliver asks, his sharp gaze landing on your bandaged injury. Before you can brush it off, he’s already by your side, gently taking your hand in his. “You didn’t think to call me?” he teases, though his voice carries a hint of genuine worry. “I could’ve handled this in no time.”

- He grabs the first aid kit, his hands surprisingly deft as he unwraps and rebandages your wound. “You’ve got to be more careful, beautiful,” he says, his voice soft but firm. “I can’t have you sidelined—you’re my best partner, after all.” His touch is light, but the protective edge in his tone makes it clear how much he cares.

- “Alright, step aside. The Green Arrow is on the job,” Oliver says, flashing you a trademark smirk. Watching him work is an experience in itself—he’s efficient and surprisingly skilled, despite his playful demeanor. “Bet you didn’t know I was handy with a hammer, huh?” he jokes, his grin lighting up the room.

- Oliver keeps the mood light with his constant humor and quick wit. “You know, I once tried to fix a broken bowstring and ended up snapping three more,” he says, laughing at the memory. His charm is irresistible, and he has a way of making even the most tedious tasks feel fun and exciting.

- As the evening winds down, Oliver pulls you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you. “You scared me today,” he admits, his voice low and serious. “I’ve lost enough people in my life—I’m not losing you too.” He kisses your forehead, his lips warm and lingering. Oliver’s love is bold, passionate, and unwavering, a constant in your life that leaves you feeling cherished and protected.

John Constantine aka. Hellblazer

- John notices the injury immediately, his sharp eyes narrowing as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. “What’s this, then?” he asks, his voice a mix of concern and irritation. He steps closer, taking your hand in his surprisingly gentle grip. “Bloody hell, love, you’ve got to take better care of yourself,” he mutters, his usual sarcasm tempered by genuine worry.

- He doesn’t bother with a first aid kit—instead, he mutters a few words in Latin, and a faint glow surrounds your hand. “There, good as new,” he says with a smirk, though his eyes linger on you with a rare softness. “Don’t make me have to fix you up like this again, yeah?” he adds, his tone light but edged with seriousness.

- “Right, let’s see what mess you’ve gotten yourself into,” John says, surveying the unfinished renovation. He rolls up his sleeves and gets to work, grumbling under his breath but surprisingly competent. “Don’t look so shocked—I’m full of surprises,” he says with a wink.

- As he works, John keeps up a steady stream of sardonic commentary and darkly humorous anecdotes. “This reminds me of the time I tried to patch up a hole in my flat’s wall. Ended up summoning a demon instead,” he quips, his dry humor making you laugh despite yourself. His presence, though chaotic, is oddly reassuring.

- Later, as you both sit in the dim light, John lights another cigarette, his gaze softening as he looks at you. “You’ve got to be more careful, love,” he says quietly. “I’ve got enough demons to fight—I don’t need to be worrying about losing you too.” His love is raw, messy, and laced with his own brand of charm, but it’s as real and unshakable as the man himself.

Roy Harper aka. Arsenal

- Roy notices your bandaged hand the moment he steps in. “What the hell happened?” he asks, his voice laced with concern, though his trademark smirk softens the words. He takes your hand gently, his calloused fingers brushing against yours. “You didn’t think to call me? I’m literally a pro at making bad decisions—and patching them up after.”

- “Alright, sit tight,” he says, pulling out a first aid kit with a flourish. His movements are surprisingly precise, honed from years of taking care of himself and others. “This isn’t bad, but next time, maybe call me before you go all DIY warrior,” he jokes, though the worry in his eyes betrays his casual tone.

- Roy insists on helping you finish the project, despite your protests. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you do this alone?” he says, grabbing a hammer with an exaggerated show of confidence. His work is a mix of skill and chaos—he’s good at what he does, but his playful energy keeps things unpredictable.

- As you work together, Roy’s humor keeps you laughing. “You know, I once tried to fix a broken bow. Ended up breaking three more,” he says, grinning at the memory. He’s full of stories, each one more absurd than the last, but they’re all delivered with a charm that makes you forget about the mess around you.

- Later, as you both sit back to admire the (somewhat chaotic) results, Roy pulls you close, his arm slung around your shoulders. “You mean the world to me, you know that?” he says, his voice softer than usual. “Don’t scare me like that again, alright?” His love is messy but wholehearted, a constant reminder that you’re his anchor in a turbulent world.

Koriand’r aka. Starfire

- Kori’s luminous green eyes widen in concern when she sees your bandaged hand. “Oh no, my love, what has happened?” she asks, taking your hand delicately in hers. Her warmth radiates through her touch as she examines the wound. “Does it pain you? Please, tell me how I can help.”

- She gently kisses your hand, her lips soft and glowing faintly. “On Tamaran, we believe healing begins with love,” she says, her voice filled with sincerity. She insists on tending to the injury herself, her movements careful and deliberate. Her concern is almost palpable, her love for you evident in every action.

- Kori is eager to assist with your project, her strength and enthusiasm turning what could have been a chore into an exciting adventure. “Let us work together,” she says, her smile bright enough to light up the room. Watching her lift heavy beams effortlessly and handle tools with childlike curiosity is both impressive and endearing.

- As you work side by side, Kori shares stories of her home planet. “On Tamaran, we build homes with our families, singing songs of unity and joy,” she says, her voice rich with nostalgia. Her passion for her culture and her desire to share it with you make the task feel meaningful and connected.

- At the end of the day, Kori pulls you into her embrace, her warmth enveloping you like sunlight. “You are my heart,” she says softly, her glowing eyes meeting yours. “I cannot bear the thought of you in pain.” She kisses your forehead tenderly, her love as radiant and boundless as the stars she comes from.

Kara Zor-El aka. Supergirl

- Kara’s superhuman senses catch your injury before you even try to hide it. “Wait—what happened to your hand?” she asks, her tone a mix of concern and mild panic. She’s by your side in an instant, her blue eyes scanning your bandage with laser-like focus. “You didn’t think to call me? I could’ve been here in a second!”

- She insists on checking your injury, her touch gentle despite her immense strength. “It’s not too bad, but I’m still worried,” she admits, biting her lip as she adjusts the bandage. “Next time, promise me you’ll let me help, okay?” Her voice is firm but filled with a tenderness that makes your heart melt.

- Kara takes over the renovation project with her usual enthusiasm, zipping around at super-speed to get things done. “This is so much easier than stopping meteors,” she jokes, flashing you a bright smile. Despite her incredible abilities, she makes sure to include you, asking for your input and slowing down to let you participate.

- As you work, Kara shares stories of Krypton, her voice filled with a mixture of sadness and pride. “Back home, we had machines to do most of this,” she says, a wistful smile crossing her face. “But I think there’s something special about doing it with your own hands—especially when it’s for someone you love.”

- Later, Kara wraps you in a warm hug, her strength carefully restrained but her affection boundless. “You’re my connection to this world,” she says softly, resting her forehead against yours. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Her love is like sunlight—pure, strong, and life-giving, a constant source of warmth and light in your life.

Slade Wilson aka. Deathstroke

- Slade notices your injury immediately, his single eye narrowing as he steps closer. “What happened?” he asks, his voice low and commanding. He takes your hand in his gloved one, his touch surprisingly gentle as he examines the bandage. “You’ve been careless,” he says, though his tone carries more concern than reprimand.

- Without a word, Slade pulls out a compact medical kit, his movements precise and efficient. “You should have called me,” he mutters, his focus entirely on your wound. “I don’t like seeing you hurt.” His care is methodical, almost clinical, but the way his fingers linger just slightly on your skin betrays his deeper feelings.

- Slade insists on taking over the renovation, his natural leadership coming through as he assesses the task. “Stand back,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. Watching him work is like watching a soldier in action—every movement calculated, every decision deliberate. “This isn’t my first time fixing something broken,” he quips, his dry humor catching you off guard.

- As he works, Slade shares fragments of his past, his gravelly voice tinged with a rare vulnerability. “This reminds me of when I used to build things with my son,” he says, his expression briefly softening. The glimpses of his humanity remind you of the man beneath the hardened exterior, the man who loves you in his own quiet, fierce way.

- Later, Slade pulls you close, his arm heavy and protective around your shoulders. “You’ve got to be more careful,” he says, his voice a low growl. “I’ve lost too much already—I’m not losing you.” He kisses your forehead briefly but firmly, his love intense and unyielding, like the man himself—a force that shields you from the world’s dangers, even as he battles his own demons.

Kent Nelson aka. Doctor Fate

- Kent’s piercing eyes behind the shimmering Helmet of Fate immediately fixate on your injured hand. “What have you done, my love?” he asks, his voice a blend of the mystical and the concerned. Without hesitation, he removes the helmet, his human side taking precedence. His hands, warm and steady, gently cradle yours as he inspects the wound.

- “This is a simple injury,” he murmurs, his voice calm but resolute. “But even the smallest wounds can lead to chaos if left untended.” A golden light surrounds his hand as he softly incants an ancient spell. The pain fades, replaced by a soothing warmth, though Kent remains watchful. “You must remember, you are precious to me beyond measure.”

- When he sees the half-finished renovation, Kent sighs softly. “It seems I have another task to tend to,” he says with a faint smile. With a wave of his hand, the room begins to shift and transform, guided by his mystical prowess. “Though I prefer to use magic sparingly, I believe this situation calls for a touch of Fate,” he teases lightly.

- As the room repairs itself under his guidance, Kent tells you stories of the endless mystic realms he has traversed. “In the realm of Amathur, they build their homes from living crystal, attuned to their souls,” he says, his voice carrying the weight of eons. His stories are mesmerizing, painting a picture of a universe far beyond your imagination.

- That evening, as the golden glow of his magic fades, Kent pulls you close, his mortal and immortal selves blending seamlessly in his affection for you. “You ground me, even amidst the chaos of the cosmos,” he whispers. “Do not let harm come to you, for you are my anchor to this world.” His love is profound and eternal, like the ancient forces he commands.

Rachel Roth aka. Raven

- Rachel notices the bandage immediately, her dark, violet eyes narrowing. “What happened?” she asks, her voice calm but laced with quiet concern. She steps closer, her fingers brushing against yours lightly. “You didn’t think to tell me?” she adds, her tone carrying just a hint of exasperation masked by worry.

- A soft, dark aura emanates from her hands as she murmurs a healing spell. “Let me take away the pain,” she says softly, her magic soothing the injury. “But next time, be more careful.” Her words are firm, but the tenderness in her actions speaks volumes about her love for you.

- Rachel insists on helping with the renovation, though her approach is unconventional. Using her magic, she levitates tools and materials, fixing everything with an eerie precision. “Why struggle when there’s an easier way?” she quips, a rare hint of humor gracing her usually serious demeanor.

- As she works, Rachel shares pieces of her past, her voice quiet but steady. “I used to dream of having a home like this—something stable, something real,” she admits. Her vulnerability in those moments is a reminder of the strength it takes for her to let you in, to allow herself to love and be loved.

- Later, as the room takes on a serene, almost otherworldly perfection, Rachel sits with you in the quiet. “I’m not used to caring this much,” she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper. “But you… you’ve shown me that it’s okay to let someone in.” Her love is deep and shadowed, like the magic she wields—powerful, transformative, and utterly consuming.

Zatanna Zatara aka. Zatanna

- “What’s this?” Zatanna asks, her sharp blue eyes immediately noticing your bandaged hand. She sets down her wand and takes your hand in hers, her touch warm and gentle. “You’ve been playing with tools without supervision, haven’t you?” she teases, though her concern is clear.

- “Let me fix this,” she says with a wink. She waves her hand, her words spoken backward as a soft, golden light surrounds your injury. “Esael ruoy niaP,” she says, and the pain dissipates. “Much better,” she adds with a playful smile. “But seriously, call me next time.”

- Zatanna insists on finishing the renovation with you, though her methods are far from ordinary. “Why use a hammer when you have magic?” she says, summoning tools and materials with a flick of her wrist. The room transforms under her guidance, every detail touched with a bit of theatrical flair.

- As she works, Zatanna keeps you entertained with stories of her performances and her magical adventures. “There was this one time in Paris where my spell accidentally turned an entire café into a circus,” she says, laughing. Her humor and charisma make even the mundane feel magical, her presence a constant source of joy.

- That night, as the newly restored room glows with a faint magical shimmer, Zatanna pulls you into her arms. “You’re my favorite audience,” she says softly, her voice filled with affection. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, okay?” Her love is vibrant and enchanting, a spell that binds you to her in the most wonderful way.

Wally West aka. Flash

- Wally zips into the room and immediately notices your hand. “Whoa, whoa, whoa—what happened here?” he asks, his words coming almost as fast as he moves. He’s by your side in an instant, gently taking your injured hand in his. “Why didn’t you call me? I could’ve been here in seconds!”

- He rushes to grab a first aid kit, moving so quickly you barely see him leave. “You’ve got to be more careful,” he says as he carefully rewraps your bandage. Despite his speed, his touch is gentle, his eyes full of concern. “Promise me you’ll let me help next time, okay?”

- Wally insists on finishing the renovation, his super-speed turning the task into a blur of activity. “This is easy,” he says with a grin, fixing things faster than you can even follow. “But hey, don’t blink—you might miss my best work!” His enthusiasm is infectious, making the entire process feel like a game.

- As he works, Wally keeps you laughing with his endless jokes and stories. “Did I ever tell you about the time I outran a black hole?” he says, his grin widening. His energy is boundless, his humor a constant source of lightness and joy in your life.

- Later, as the room stands perfectly completed, Wally pulls you close, his usual hyperactivity giving way to a rare moment of stillness. “You’re my world,” he says softly, his voice steady and sincere. “I can’t imagine life without you.” His love is like his speed—unstoppable, all-encompassing, and always rushing to your side.

[a-fandom-reimagined]

< PREVIOUS PART

"Diana, you have exhausted valuable resources and the skills of our healers for one woman. To what end? She will die anyway. Maybe not today or tomorrow. Maybe not a year from now or ten but she will die. You're just delaying the inevitable."

Diana had few moments in her life where she could truthfully say she was angry with her mother. But in that moment she almost hated her. The Amazons were supposed to be messengers of peace and truth and justice. What happened to her mother while she was away? What happened to the fearsome woman who raised and taught her to stand for what was right? This wasn't the first time they'd had this argument and as your life hung in the balance, Diana doubted it would be the last.

You hadn't uttered more than a few sentences since arriving on the sandy shores of Themyscira and that was two weeks ago. You'd been in and out of consciousness every since. Never awake longer than a second or two and no one could tell Diana why. The healers had done all they could. The rest was up to you.

Diana gritted her teeth and rose from your bedside. "You and I are not having this conversation again, mama. Y/N is staying here until she wakes up. The healers will attend her for as long as she requires their attention and that is final. You gave me your word and you will stand by it."

"Perhaps I gave it too hastily."

Fire and hatred burned in Diana's eyes but the Queen of the Amazons did not--would not--falter. "I know you've formed something of an…attachment…to this girl--"

Diana laughed, tearfully. Attachment. What a paltry word to describe what she felt for you. This all-consuming yearning and devotion that kept her up nights and drove her to kneel at your bedside for hours with no regard to her own hunger and comfort. "Attachment," Diana repeated, laughing again.

"She is not like us, my daughter" the queen continued. "She is not like you--"

"She doesn't have to be! I don't need her to be like me. I don't need her to do anything but live, mama!"

"I do not mean to be cruel but if this is what her ailing has done to you…I don't want to know what would become of you if she perished."

Diana for the first time since coming home was inclined to agree with her mother. She opened her mouth to speak, some of her earlier anger dissipating, when a sharp breath stole away her words.

Diana whirled.

You rubbed sleep from your eyes, wincing as you struggled to get comfortable in the narrow cot on which you lay.

Diana stumbled to your bedside and fell to her knees.

You gave her a weak smile, bleary-eyed smile. Your hair was a bird's nest atop your head and yet to Diana, you'd never looked more beautiful.

You hit the ground hard not for the first time today.

"Dammit," you hissed.

Diana leaned into your line of sight with an apologetic smile. "Are you alright?"

"No I'm not alright!" you snapped. "A toddler could have blocked that kick and I just…I just," you screwed your eyes shut and breathed through the pain, the embarrassment, and frustration. "I'm not the same, D. My body…it's not the same."

She dropped to her knees and gently straddled your waist. Taking your face in her hands, she kissed your lids again and again until you opened them. "It's only been a week, my love. It could take months even years to remind your body of what your mind never forgot. Give it time."

It had been four months since you woke up in Themyscira's infirmary. Four long grueling months spent trying to remember how to walk and care for yourself. Fighting off pain and infection with strange herbs and medicinal techniques you'd never heard of and you were tired. So, so tired of being weak and fragile on an island surrounded by women who were the very definition of everything you used to be.

"But I don't want it to take months or years!" tears of frustration filled your eyes.

"I'm afraid you don't have much of a choice." Diana carefully rolled off of you and into the grass.

"Someone did this to me, Diana. I could have died."

"I know… And when you are well my love, we will find them and you will have your justice. But whether you like it or not it will take time. And if you will have me, I will be here with you. For every step of the way. And every step after that."

REQUESTED! | REQUESTS: OPEN | REBLOG DON’T REPOST | GIF?

[blughxreader]

the guttural scream I let out when I saw wonder woman in that ask was so uncanny. I just :D ahahaaaQAHH i hehe love her ♥️ she just :) ya know? ahhh I would definitely fall for her 😭

♡... Alpha! Yandere! Wonder Woman ...♡

Batsis trying to convince WW that she shouldn't be sent home for the holidays lol

context

[justiceleaguelog]

I REBUKE THEE DEMON

Jason: Y/N Prince, I rebuke thee! I rebuke thee!

Wonder!Reader: Rebuke? Is that a word?

Jason: You have all invoked my fury! You will all pay recompense for your transgressions!

Wonder!Reader: What, you got like a word-a-day calendar or something?

[writers-advocate]

just need you | d.p.

description: the only thing you could ever need is her [requested]

cw: fingering, oral

“would you like to talk about it, my love?”

diana’s dulcet tone helps guide you into the warmth of home, her hands easily peeling the jacket from your shoulders and guiding you to the sofa to sit. the plush cushions dip under your weight and she kneels in front of you to level with your gaze.

you shake your head and hold up one hand, her calloused fingers entwining with yours gently and making you smile just a fraction. a pinch in her chest at how heavy your day seems to be weighing on you. “just need you, di.”

dinner is spent curled in her lap, eating together, feeding each other. she pours you more wine and you listen to her talk about her day at the museum until the moment she takes notice of how your muscles have relaxed, weighed down by the liquid, fuzzy warmth from the glass held delicately in your hand. eyes mildly glassy and smile a little crooked as you ask her why she’s stopped talking. she poses the question as a tease, “are you sure you don’t need anything, asteri mu?”

your repeated answer, softer, lighter than before, makes something warm like sunlight seep into her chest and envelope her heart. “just need you, di.”

that same ray of sun turns into something molten and sinks lower later that night in bed, leading her lips into trailing away from yours to press firmly to your throat instead. the soft sighs it draws from you, her own personal siren’s song, are enough to make the feel of hot molasses spread through her limbs, and draw her hand to settle between your thighs. what she finds makes her mouth water, but she takes her time.

two fingers have sunken into your heat and she could be content with simply staying right there, feeling you, knowing she’s the only one to taste something so precious. but your pretty voice in her ear draws her fingertips to curl into that spongy spot inside she knows will prolong your sweet melodies. a desperation unlike any other tightens in her belly but her words are steady, sure, almost teasing with how even and sympathetic her tone is. “what do you need, little dove?”

it’s unfair the way her fingers curl again, knocking any coherent request out of your mind. she so gently swipes her tongue across your pulse point in anticipation when you revert to base instinct and gasp sweetly, “just- need you, di!”

what could i have possibly done to obtain the key to paradise?

she knows that’s where she is when she presses warm, almost calculated kisses along your thighs, thumbs curling into the sides of your underwear to gently drag them down your legs. it doesn’t take long for her tongue to find it’s home, swirling around the little bundle of nerves, trailing through your slick as though she can’t get enough. your hands tangling in her hair merely spur her on, and she slips her tongue lower until she can press it deep inside you, coaxing out more of what’s easily become her favorite vice. this is the filthiest you’ll ever see her outside of battle, gaze half lidded, face dusted pink as she barely allows herself a moment to breathe before her nose is nudging at your clit again. it’s intoxicating for you both.

that is easily confirmed for you as a fact on her end when she draws a third orgasm out of you, her muscled arm curl around your thighs now, hands pressed over your tummy to pin you. to remind you of just how helpless you are in her hands. your head is thrown back against she sheets as she relentlessly prods at that sweet spot inside, clearly set on pushing you into another mind numbing moment. it’s a miracle your broken up words reach her, but they do. “di! oh- di, please i want- want you to- feel good too-!” your voice devolves into another whimpery cry as her chuckle vibrates against you, one calloused hand slipping down lower to circle her thumb around your overly sensitive clit.

not that you would be able to appreciate the irony of her answer. but what you can appreciate is the way her words are mumbled against you, breathless, just as you leave her every time.

“all i need is you, little dove.”