#AND THE WHOLE FIRING DICK FOR BEING A KID

[batsandbirdbrains]

A thought before I go to bed: Dick Grayson being the test child for essentially every single JL member would do unrepairable psychic & emotional damage. It’s not anything obvious, it’s not anything outright.

But he was their test pancake. The one you put on the griddle to test that the temperature is right and the batter is the way you want it. He turned out a funny shape, burned on one side, and lost half himself before he fully grew up.

And every other child that comes into their lives, every other sidekick after him benefits from his suffering. He’s the one they had to push to the limits to be able to find out what boundaries they should be setting. He’s the one who broke a leg because an adult hero tossed (threw him like a sack of potatoes) way too hard for him to make a landing. He’s the one who got a concussion during training because an adult knocked him down too hard.

He’s the one who got shot by a rogue and then yelled at for it, who got fired (even if it was taken back, even if Bruce swears he was just trying to protect him), he’s the one who got kicked out when he was still a kid. It doesn’t matter that Bruce let him back in. To this day, he hasn’t told Bruce what happened during the four months he spent away from the manor. He doesn’t tell him how he had to play apprentice to Deathstroke the Terminator. He doesn’t tell anyone what he had to do to escape.

He’s the one they forgot on special occasions the first time and then after that made sure to never forget a kid’s special day they were invited to ever again.

One person showed up to Dick Grayson’s high school graduation. He was salutatorian and graduating a year early. Alfred Pennyworth was the only one there, watching, clapping for him, taking photographs, congratulating him. Took him out to dinner to celebrate then had to watch as Dick cried over a bowl of pasta he didn’t even end up eating.

Everyone else either forgot or put the mission first. Dick never forgives any of them. He never forgets it. He may not bring it up, he may not hold it over their heads, but he’ll never forget how alone and worthless he felt when he looked out into the crowd as he was giving his speech and he saw an entire section of empty chairs with Alfred sitting on the end.

He listens to their excuses and their apologies. But then he sees every other kid after him have a whole section of heroes cheering them on when they get their diplomas, and Dick can’t help but feel bitter about it.

And it sucks, because on one hand, he’s so glad these actual adults aren’t fucking up other kids like how they fucked up him. But on the other hand, why couldn’t they have just been there for him? Why couldn’t they have gotten their shit together for him? Why is was it always him?

Anyway nighty night perhaps I’ll expand upon this thought process tomorrow

[arcade-confetti]

that post which acknowledges the weight of bruce not telling jason about willis' death is a godsend, it is such a major breach of trust and it happens at the beginning of jason's robin career as well and imo really sets the tone. to me it was always where jason's trust in bruce started to fracture and the diplomat's son was the last straw after which he desperately starts looking for someone to trust (a parent).

i think the change in jason's backstory in post-crisis is a major in-universe reason for why bruce's parenting stops working for jason. pre-crisis jason lost his parents in a singular moment due to an act of violence just like bruce (and dick) which bruce personally knows well and has already had experience helping dick with so he is able to be a relatively better parent to jason (i mean he was still a fumbler with the whole dyeing the hair, comparing them, jason not having time for much outside of robin and all but still much better that post-crisis). when the crisis happens and jason's trauma changes that similarity ends. jason is now a child who took care of his mother in her final days and had to survive poverty and homelessness. his loss of his parents is a slow painful process. bruce cannot relate to any of these things but he still approaches jason with that same tactic which worked for him and for dick. jason understandably wouldn't respond well to this.

none of this is jason's fault but it displays that bruce is not very capable of handling or personally helping people with trauma that he does not understand himself. he also does not understand why he is unable to help jason or why jason isn't responding to his methods. this combined with alfred's fuckass classist bullshit combines into everyone viewing jason as a problematic child instead.

i think this is why bruce being the best dad ever to jason in before his death does not work for me in a post-crisis setting because bruce fucks up a lot of things from the get-go, i do not think jason ever really felt that secure in that timeline despite the adoption (which i have seen a lot of people use as proof of their bond's stability before jason's death but i think that is incomplete without understanding why their bond fractured in spite of that). i mean there is a reason why jason doesn't even think that bruce would help him with his mom quest. the garzonas case is not a "omg why is my supportive loving dad suddenly not trusting me on this" but more of a "this man who i thought i am supposed to depend on has proved to me yet again that he does not trust me". jason doesn't really seem all that concerned or surprised with bruce not believing him imo, almost like he didn't expect bruce's explicit trust in him. which he is right to do because bruce has proven multiple times that he does not trust jason and that jason cannot trust him. garzonas was always the straw that broke the camel's back.

The post

I dont have much to add to this I really really like it and just like, YEAH yeah exactly.

[rafesgreasycurtainbangs]

Hey I have a request! What do you think about Girlfriend reader hanging up on rafe multiple times during an argument and then he comes over w smut? 🫶🏽xx

THE ARGUMENT . . .

the argument starts over something dumb—rafe’s pissed because you left a couple of coffee mugs in the sink at his place, and you’re firing back that he’s got no right to lecture you about messes when his truck’s a disaster zone of empty beer cans and gym clothes.

it’s one of those fights that’s more about being annoyed than anything real, but you’re in a mood, all bratty and sharp-tongued, and rafe’s not backing down, his voice loud and clipped over the phone. “you’re actin’ like a damn kid,” he snaps, that outer banks drawl thick with frustration. “just clean up your shit, it ain’t that hard.”

“oh, please,” you scoff, rolling your eyes as you pace your apartment, phone pressed to your ear. “you’re not my dad, rafe. maybe if you weren’t such a slob yourself, i’d listen.”

you’re being extra, you know it, but you’re not in the mood to play nice, so you hang up on him, thumb jabbing the red button with a little too much satisfaction.

your phone buzzes almost immediately, his name lighting up the screen, and you let it ring a few times before picking up, just to make him wait. “what?” you say, voice all attitude, and he’s already heated, you can hear it in the way he’s breathing hard.

“don’t fuckin’ hang up on me,” he says, low and tight, like he’s trying to keep it together. “we’re talkin’ this out.”

“are we?” you shoot back, smirking even though he can’t see it. “’cause it sounds like you’re just yelling. i’m not in the mood, rafe.” and you hang up again, tossing your phone on the couch, feeling that petty thrill run through you. it’s childish, sure, but he’s been on your nerves all day, and you’re not about to let him win this one.

he calls back, of course, and this time you let it go to voicemail, watching the screen flash until it stops. a text comes through a second later:

you’re bein’ a real brat, you know that?

you ignore it, flipping on the tv, trying to distract yourself, but there’s a tiny part of you that’s waiting, knowing he’s not gonna let this slide.

later that night, you’re curled up with a glass of wine when there’s a knock at your door, hard and insistent. you don’t even need to check to know it’s him, and when you open it, rafe’s standing there, looking like a kicked puppy. his hair’s a mess, like he’s been running his hands through it, and his eyes are softer than you’ve seen in a while, all red-rimmed and desperate.

“baby,” he starts, voice low, almost broken, and it’s so unlike him it throws you off. “i’m sorry, aight? i fucked up. i shouldn’t’a yelled about the damn mugs, it’s stupid.”

he steps closer, hands twitching like he wants to reach for you but isn’t sure he’s allowed. “been sittin’ at home, and it’s… it’s fuckin’ empty without you. i hate this shit. i need you, okay? i’m losin’ it.”

you cross your arms, still holding onto that bratty edge, chin tilted up. “you didn’t seem sorry when you were yelling at me,” you say, voice sharp, but you’re already softening, the way he’s looking at you—like you’re his whole world—chipping away at your resolve.

“i know,” he says, stepping into your space, his hands finally landing on your hips, tentative at first, then tighter when you don’t pull away. “i was bein’ a dick. i just… i miss you when you’re not there, and i got all fucked up thinkin’ about you bein’ mad at me.”

he’s practically begging now, his voice rough, needy, and it’s so pathetic, so unlike the usual cocky rafe, that you almost feel bad for him. almost.

“you should be sorry,” you say, but your voice is softer now, and he catches it, his eyes lighting up with a glimmer of hope. “i don’t like fighting over stupid shit.”

“me neither,” he murmurs, pulling you closer, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm on your skin. “lemme make it up to you, baby. please.” his hands slide up your sides, and he’s so close you can feel how much he means it, how desperate he is to fix this. “i’ll do whatever you want, just… don’t shut me out.”

you let him kiss you then, soft at first, like he’s afraid you’ll push him away, but when you kiss him back, it’s like a dam breaks. his hands are everywhere, pulling you against him, and he’s murmuring apologies between kisses, his voice thick with that drawl.

all “i’m sorry, baby” and “love you so fuckin’ much.” you’re still a little mad, but it’s hard to stay bratty when he’s like this, all needy and pathetic, like he’d fall apart without you.

he backs you toward the couch, and you let him, your hands in his hair as he kneels between your legs, tugging your shorts down with a kind of reverence that makes your heart skip. “gonna make you feel so good,” he says, voice low, almost a growl, but it’s not cocky now—it’s desperate, like he’s proving something. “my girl deserves everythin’.”

you’re still a little huffy, arms crossed as you look down at him, but the way he’s kissing up your thighs, soft and slow, makes it hard to keep up the act. “you better,” you say, voice sharp, but he just nods, like he’s agreeing with everything you’re saying.

“i will,” he murmurs, lips brushing your skin, and when his mouth finally finds you, it’s slow, deliberate, like he’s worshipping you.

his tongue moves in lazy circles, teasing, drawing out every sound you try to hold back, and you can feel him watching you, gauging every reaction. “fuck, you taste so good,” he says, voice muffled, and it’s not his usual dirty talk—it’s raw, like he’s pouring himself into every word.

you’re trying to stay composed, but he’s too good, too focused, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you in place as he works you, slow and deep, until you’re squirming, your brattiness melting into something softer, needier. “rafe,” you whimper, and he groans, like hearing his name is enough to push him over the edge.

“that’s it, baby,” he says, lips brushing against you as he speaks, his tongue never stopping. “let me take care of you. my perfect fuckin’ girl.” he’s relentless but gentle, building you up until you’re trembling, your hands fisting his hair, your breaths coming fast and shaky.

when you finally come, it’s with a soft cry, your body shaking as he keeps going, drawing it out until you’re oversensitive, pushing at his head. he pulls back, kissing your thighs, your stomach, murmuring, “so good f’me, always so good,” and when he crawls up to kiss you, his lips are wet, his eyes soft and desperate still, like he’s not done proving himself.

“forgive me?” he asks, voice low, his forehead pressed to yours, and you can feel how much he means it, how lonely he must’ve been sitting in that big house without you.

you sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “maybe,” you tease, but your voice is soft, and he smiles, kissing you again, like he’s never letting you go.

⩇⩇:⩇⩇

𓂅 taglist ― @littlelamy @dollyfiles @drewstarkeyswife0 @icaqttt @urcoolgf @camercns @pointocean @dsfault @rafestoothbrush @huhidontknowstuff @drewssgirl

[rmbunnie]

I like Batman. I like Batman as a character. I like Bruce Wayne. But it is very unserious when people act like Jason Todd, or maybe Damian, the robins as a whole, or any one writer, or any specific story arc, is singlehandedly corrupting Bruce’s character into an severe and inflexible colleague and distant, emotionally-unavailable father. Because even if he hadn't consistently been a questionable, loving yet unhealthy AT BEST father figure in the majority of his appearances since the early 80s (and I do mean to Dick, to Cass (actually shaping her into his image in Batgirl 2000 at the cost of her social development and autonomy ISNT good,) a BAD mentor to Steph, not even getting into Helena, like truly it’s not all about Jason?) The first well-written book that comes to mind where his morality is at its worst imo? That’s Wonder Woman: Hiketeia. No robins, no batfamily, just Bruce putting aside Wonder Woman’s input and the context of the situation and chasing down a girl who killed the men responsible for trafficking, assaulting, and killing her baby sister, to the point where it ends with her jumping off a cliff.

And the thing is I still like reading him in Hiketeia, because he fills the role he needs to fill in that story well, his actions align with his wordview even if it’s taken to the extreme in an uncharitable way, and he keeps my attention. I just think it’s goofy how some of us on here look at the guy who’s big character trait is being a hard-to-know, stubborn, and condescending control freak who puts other people's emotions on the wayside in favor of his mission prolifically, and go “all he did was LOVE TOO MUCH! His mean kids and associates and teammates are PUNISHING HIM for LOVING with his BIG BIG HEART and it’s tainting the narrative!” And you could say “well Hiketeia doesn't count, Greg Rucka is just a hater!” (though I certainly wouldn’t.) But when the issue is Damian entertaining the idea of leaving the family business, and before that it’s Red Hood stepping on toes, and then, wait, before that it’s Green Arrow and Wonder Woman, and then Huntress, and then oh wait we can’t think about the weird patch with Nightwing where their relationship was super rocky, and then Jason but before he died, and of course the Green Lanterns are basically treated like punching bags for him to do something awesome then- Like maybe if it’s a consistent pattern spanning what, 20, 30 years now? The issue isn’t Damian or Red Hood alone, or PKJ or Greg Rucka or Judd Winick or Marv Wolfman + George Perez or even Jim Starlin being a hater, but your blorbo just having extremely well-documented character flaws?

[rosemaryhoney27]

"Diplomacy for the Feral and the Damned"

Bruce had just sat down in the Batcave with his second cup of post-patrol coffee—black as his mood, strong enough to keep a Kryptonian awake—when his private line buzzed. Not the Batline. Not the board line. The one buried so deep in encryption and passive-aggressive threats that even Oracle called it “Extra-Paranoid Mode.”

He stared. [Incoming Call: Vladimir Masters]

Bruce blinked. “…Oh, this is going to be a day.”

He answered with the flat monotone that had driven Gotham’s underworld into therapy. “Vlad.”

The holographic screen flickered to life—and there he was. Vladimir Masters, looking every inch the eccentric billionaire and possibly more ghost than man now. Silver-haired, in a robe that screamed “I paid three million for this and regret nothing,” surrounded by classical art, levitating books, and the faint crackle of ectoplasmic interference. The whole aesthetic screamed “If Lex Luthor was haunted by a Victorian novelist.”

Vlad beamed. “Brucie!”

Bruce’s eye twitched. “Don’t call me that.”

“It’s lovely to hear your voice, dear cousin. It’s been too long.”

Jason, eavesdropping from the shadows with popcorn, whispered, “Wait. Cousin? Since when do we have that brand of family drama?”

“Shh,” Tim muttered, scribbling something labeled Possible Interdimensional Ghost Cousins Conspiracy.

“I need your advice,” Vlad continued. “Something very personal. Deeply serious.”

Bruce sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “What now, Vlad?”

Vlad leaned forward, the screen staticking briefly. “How do you get your children to be civil with you?”

There was silence. Real, echoing, existential silence.

“…I wasn’t aware you had adopted children, Vlad,” Bruce said slowly, like trying not to scare off a rabid raccoon.

“I haven’t. Not technically,” Vlad said breezily. “But my godson is staying with me. Lovely boy. Has the appetite of a black hole and the sense of self-preservation of a rabid badger.”

“...Oh god,” whispered Dick, “he sounds like all of us.”

“Cute that Masters thinks we’re civil,” Damian sniffed. “How charmingly misinformed.”

“Wait. He said godson?” Tim asked, eyes lighting up. “Do you think—could it be—Phantom?”

Vlad didn’t notice the peanut gallery commentary. “The boy has caused four minor diplomatic incidents, bitten a baron, vanished into the ceiling during a formal gala, and accused a senator of being a reptilian. Which turned out to be accurate, but the delivery was unkind.”

Bruce squinted. “That sounds like… Dick, Damian, and Tim at the Wayne Foundation Spring Gala ‘19.”

“I know!” Vlad pointed at him like a man discovering fire. “That’s exactly what I said! He’s like your sons! In one small, glowing, vaguely feral body!”

“Glowing?” Steph mouthed. “Definitely Phantom.”

“So, cousin dearest,” Vlad purred. “How do you get them to listen? How do you parent the chaos incarnate?”

Bruce took a long, tired sip of his coffee and simply said, “I don’t.”

“…You don’t?”

“I survive it.”

“Bold of him to call this survival,” muttered Cass as Jason started texting Alfred for cookies and emotional support.

“Each one is an unpredictable event wrapped in trauma and tactical gear,” Bruce continued flatly. “They will not listen. They may occasionally pretend to. But only after chaos. Much, much chaos.”

Vlad sighed, running a hand through his hair. “So there’s no secret Wayne method? No clever strategy?”

“...Cookies?” Bruce offered.

From beneath the desk, something gnawed at Vlad’s ankle.

He glanced down and hissed, “Danny, stop that, I told you we don’t bite family!”

“He said that senator looked like a snake,” came the muffled voice. “And I was right.”

Vlad groaned. “Why couldn’t he just be one kind of disaster? Why all of them?”

Jason grinned. “I like this kid.”

“New cousin,” Steph agreed. “Absolutely chaotic. Ten outta ten.”

Vlad looked back up at Bruce. “So. No help?”

Bruce looked thoughtful. “Keep fire extinguishers on hand. Avoid hosting events near chandeliers. Always assume they have at least two hidden weapons. And get used to being called ‘Dad’ at the most inconvenient political moments.”

A pause.

“Also,” he added, “tell him you’re proud. Even when he’s a disaster. Especially then.”

Vlad blinked. “...That worked for you?”

Bruce glanced around the cave. Steph had stolen Tim’s notes and was writing “FERAL COUSIN CLUB” across the top. Jason was already planning a trip to Amity Park. Damian was silently judging the snack selection of this new relative. And Dick was on his phone already texting Danny memes.

“…Eventually,” Bruce muttered.

“Charming,” Vlad sighed.

From under the desk: crunch.

“Danny! Stop chewing my furniture!”

Danny peeked out, sharp-toothed grin gleaming, eyes flickering green. “Tell B-man I wanna go to one of those galas next time. I wanna meet chandelier boy.”

Jason fist-pumped. “YES.”

Bruce just sighed. “...I’ll warn the staff.”

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Listen I love the ‘dicks being ostracized from his family and self destructs’ trope in fics however

I would like an inverse just once (I could write it but I want this fic to be good so I can enjoy it and I am not the greatest writer) where everyone blows up at him and flat out lays into him and he just goes… okay… if that’s how you feel?

Takes himself off of the patrol routes and rosters. He’s off the emergency calls and his ‘call for city wide emergency’ has been down graded to ‘call for world wide emergency’ he’s no longer on comms with oracle

He stops offering assistance to the other kids teams, doesn’t send info for investigation and doesn’t go within 100feet of Gotham.

Takes himself off the den-mother, baby sitter, trainer for all the younger teams lost that involve any and all bats

In the beginning he vacates his apartment and temporarily moves in with Donna in New York and things are good because of course they are. They’re Dick and Donna a world doesn’t exist where they aren’t okay.

And then his presence in New York leads to a lot of the og core five titans interacting and they realize that they miss each other like hell and start to work together more and more. Until news sites are like ‘teen titans grown up??’ ‘Original titans spotted doing hurricane aid in Florida!’

Because Dick loves his family but he knows when to bow out. And he chose the family he made in the new teen titans.

And then one day one of the bats track him down in nyc and breaks into what is now Dick and Donna’s apartment and are ready to argue that they need him back and need him there for a huge Gotham wide event.

And Dick says ‘sure okay let me get my stuff and we leave in half and hour’ as soon as the first sentence is out

No convincing or begging or asking for money (cough Jason cough)

Dick is patched into their comms and he’s working efficiently except he’s not… acting like himself.

He’s collaborating with whoever they tell him too, no problem, he’s discussing ideal plans and co-ops and teams and how to best get it under control.

But he’s talking to them the way he talks when he’s offering aid to teams he’s not a part of.

Like the hero version of an acquaintance and no one can call him out on it because he’s doing good work. Work that’s on par with his work before this whole fiasco. He explicitly isn’t letting their personal issues affect his work.

He’s speaking but not talking

And Bruce remembers this… he’s probably the only one who does because last time he was the only one included. The last time Dick acted like this is when he first visited Jason and him after he had been fired.

Whenever Bruce was in the room and Dick was forced to speak with him, the conversation never strayed past business casual especially around Jason.

Batman and Nightwing got into screaming matches

Bruce and Dick were strangers

And now they’re back to this, 7 kids later, a million ends of the world stopped, they’ve bled together, cried together and clung to each other in pure relief after they managed to clutch victory.

And Nightwing was treating Batman Inc like a new team stepping onto the scene.

Once they’ve secured everything and managed to keep Bruce from self destructing and making it worse. Dick just leaves and tells oracle that he’ll send over his debrief in 3-5 business days and it was nice working with them.

And then he’s gone

No cave, no manor, no Alfred, no med-bay because Dick doesn’t stay places he’s not welcome.

And after they all talk about that and how weird it was and Bruce reveals Dick did this before when he was Nightwing after Bruce fired, where Dick Grayson didn’t know Bruce Wayne.

And one of the kids asks when he broke and stopped the act and Bruce just says ‘the day he found out Jason died’

And the Batkids kinda freak bc what do you mean?? What is he only going to come back when someone dies? Thats not? There has to be another way?? And Bruce is like yeah no idea sorry (bc he’s helpful like that)

So then Steph the next day resolves to go visit him, Tim isn’t the only professional stalker. And she finds Dick and Donna’s apartment and well it’s daylight and she’s in civvies she’s if she climbs in through the window she might get reported to the NYPD and she doesn’t wanna get arrested or shot to door it is!

And so she goes and knocks and Dick opens the door and just lights up

Something something this is such a nice surprise something something it’s so good to see you.

Dick had taught Donna how to make some of his mother recipes when they were kids. So now whenever they’re together for a long time they cook together.

So Dick who is usually living in a cluttered apartment with no clean dishes and an exclusively grab and go food is now trying to force feed her some of his cooking.

Because he picked up the habit again since he’s the better cook between him and Donna.

And it’s delicious and he wants to catch up and hear everything that’s going on in her life, is she working with new people, dating anyone? How is her relationship with her mother etc etc.

It’s a nice day and she stays late and never confronts him on anything until she sees how long ago the sun set and she needs to get moving.

He hands her paper with his number and makes her promise not to give it to the others or she will lose access to it, he offers to help her on a conditional basis as nightwing but only her, she can call him about the rest if it’s an end of the world or they’re near death and need immediate aid.

And that’s like the fic because the key to winning nightwings assistance is like breathing (optional) but if you’re Dicks family you have to care or else. He’ll love you and help you, when you need it but he won’t tie his life up with yours, he’ll spend his time with people who value his opinion and the person behind the mask.

Anyway cue all the Batkids trying to do what Steph did and fail because they’re neurotic shits who think bonding involves doing casework together or a steak out.

(The next person to crack it is Damian, completely unintentionally he has a fight with Bruce and can’t ask him how the fuck he’s supposed to solve this equation in the new stupid way they’re teaching him no he can’t use the old method they’re supposed to show their work so he pulls up to Dick and Donna’s in a ratty ass hoodie like plz wtf do you mean you work top down explain Grayson- and dicks like awww no problem kid)

[invincibledc]

My birthday is tomorrow…. Can I get some Raccoon! Reader? Pretty please? 🥺

LITTLE RASCAL

BATFAMILY X RACCOON!READER

summary: such a little rascal, but that little rascal belong to the Waynes.

info: raccoon!reader is a small child of the age of 5-6. Adopted into the family, Damian found you in a dumpster and declared you as a Wayne, the other batboys have no saying other to accept the child. POV switch up cause I didn't even notice myself.

genre: short story

word count: 608

a/n: despite me being busy, here. ALSO HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

Having a raccoon-baby sibling is crazy! The batboys have to babysit their adopted animal shifter who is a raccoon the next minute and a small child the next.

Dick keeps them dressed in onesies with his hero merch.

Jason always makes sure they are mostly fed and out of trouble.

Tim makes them have their nap time and most of the time distracts them with some puzzles that they are smart at despite the speech impediment.

Then Damian, the one that always buys them clothes, and most snacks, and just a spoiling big brother who adores how cute his baby sibling is!

And now, here they are, now freshly five years old, or five in a half, always doing reckless things like the racasl they are.

As much as the Batboys love them, they are such a kid to take care of.

Certainly, a little raccoon child was running around the streets of Gotham City, fully in raccoon form. The small raccoon jumped across fire escapes of apartments, running through other things like alleyways. Finally, they found a motherload, a trashcan with fresh thrown-out food from a pastry shop.

The raccoon chirped, smiling wide as their grubby greedy hands grabbed a clean cupcake. Inching the sweet treat into their mouth, they were suddenly grabbed up by a tight grip.

Jason narrowed his eyes at the animal shifter as the raccoon shifted into y/n. A cute little chubby child that loves to eat, oh how their greed disgusts Jason.

“I knew I should've gotten that damned child leash,” Jason says, leaving the alley as y/n screams, throwing a tantrum with their broken English.

“Ja-Ja lets y/n down! Y/n go down! Down!” their chubby hands smack Jason’s buff arm that's holding them. But of course, it had no effect as Jason put the small child in front of him—sitting calmly despite the angry child whose raccoon ears were flat against their head and arms crossed with a puff.

“Keep poutin' you brat, that won't let me let you eat straight trash from dumpsters.” he puts a small helmet on you and puts his significant one on as well. Jason rode down quickly to the Wayne manor, as they made it up there. Y/n was still petty and pissed. How dare their older human brother do this to them?! How dare he! Shame on them all!

Y/n must’ve spaced out so much, that now they are in timeout, facing the wall as they looked back to see the whole family consulting each other.

“We have to buy a child leash.”

“That’s too dangerous! What if they strangle themselves!” Damian exclaims, slamming his hand onto the table.

“But think about it, the pros of a child leash is that they don't get lost and run into traffic,” Dick says with a soft grin, placing a hand on the youngest brother’s shoulder. Damian gave him a quick face before nodding.

“I can comply with this 'child' leash then.”

Tim nodded along, “Plus, when on a mission, they don't go wild and get injured.” now all the boys nodded as Bruce stayed quiet watching his sons agree. Looking to the side to see you kicking the wall, Bruce got up and went over to you. You looked at him, ringed tail creased under your legs, neatly between them as you fully turned to him.

“Papa!” you lifted your arms, getting picked up by the man whose eyes softened despite his stoic nature. “Then it settles.”

The boys looked at their father, seeing Bruce let out a smile as you smiled, just happy to get out of time out.

“This little rascal needs a leash.”

[motleyfam]

Dick forgets to eat sometimes.

Jason can’t fathom it—the entire concept is foreign to him. For as long as he can remember, food’s always been on his mind. If he wasn’t digging through dumpsters for it, he was squirreling away whole pieces of fruit and unopened granola bars the kids at school carelessly left on their trays, picking up gigs babysitting the neighbor brats for the complimentary PB&Js, sitting through two-hour fire & brimstone church sermons daydreaming about the fried chicken and potato salad that would come after. Jason’s gone hungry more times than he can count but never once has he simply forgotten to eat.

Bruce says it’s something with the way Dick’s brain is wired. It’s why he can’t sit still very long without his leg jittering, why he talks a mile a minute when he gets going on a topic, why his apartment always looks like a tornado went through it.

All Jason knows is that it’s five p.m. and he’s starving.

Except he isn’t—not really. He had a bowl of Cap’n Crunch in Dick’s kitchen just that morning, milk and all. Jason’s gone far longer on far less, so he doesn’t know why his stomach's complaining so much today, why his head feels achy and light, why that tiny biting pain in his middle won’t shut up. He’s been living at the Manor for four months now and he’s already gone soft.

They’re walking through Bludhaven Shopping Centre, Dick babbling on about the last obstacle of the indoor minigolf course they just finished. Jason tries to listen, but his heart is beating strangely fast and the only thought pulsing through his mind is food, food, food—

And then abruptly, he notices that Dick’s stopped walking. He’s looking at Jason, brow furrowed and lips moving as if asking a question, but Jason isn’t hearing anything because his hands are shaking and his breaths are coming out quick and gaspy and even though he’d been looking forward to hanging out with Dick for weeks now he suddenly wants nothing more than to be back in the Manor where the pantry’s always stocked and the fridge is full and he can breathe.

And then he blinks and he’s sitting at a sticky food court table, and Dick’s got a hand on his back, saying “in and out, nice and slow, that’s it” and Jason’s got tears welling up in his eyes which pisses him off because that’s stupid, he’s being stupid, only cats and babies cry because they missed lunch, and—

And then there’s a soft pretzel in a paper wrapper being nudged into his hand by a guilty-faced Dick with a murmur of “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking” and it makes Jason want to crawl into a hole and die because he can’t just be fucking normal about this.

But there’s honey mustard sauce to dip it in, and a Chipotle bowl soon after, and tomorrow he and Dick both eat all three meals.

[dcxdpdabbles]

So I had an idea for a snippet series if your interested🫣

Danny is actually Bruce's brother, but nobody knows until they meet him, when he comes to Gotham to create music videos for his song series EPIC. (Through a combination of his Space obsession and his mentoring with Pandora Danny gets hyper fixated on Greek mythology) (I can see him going throughout the DCU for each Saga and Gotham would definitely be the Underworlds Saga)(They only know about him because Diana becomes interested)

Btw ABSOLUTELY LOVE your stories, they make slogging through my Christmas MET at work SO much easier. 🫶🏻

That man has his mother's face.

It's an odd thought to have about a stranger, but Bruce has it all the same. He spotted him after noticing the other man setting up some recording equipment, checking the camera with the same smile his mother used to make whenever she was writing songs at her piano.

It was the kind of smile that hid a smirk in the corners of her lip. Like she already knew that she captured Bruce's and Thomas' attention simply by approaching the piano bench. It was her special talent that she was willing to gift to them, one they loved dearly and she knew it.

Martha Wayne wasn't known for her musical talent, not in the way she was known for her charities or her horrific death. People always talked about her in those two ways, or sometimes, they reduced her to just Thomas Wayne's wife.

None of them knew of the hours she spent writing up songs about her life. The way she told stories with lyrics, and how Bruce knew how his parents met, their first date, their first kiss, and the feeling of their first dance, all within one of his first lullabies. She hummed mindlessly throughout her day, so much so that Bruce often figured out her mood by the way she raised or lowered her hums.

It was her own piece of theme music. Her little touch of love echoed throughout the manor. When she died, Bruce realized how loud silence could actually be. It felt like drowning, that silence, and no amount filter noise could ever save him from it.

It wasn't until he took in Dick, who has a habit of beating his hands against items in makeshift drums, did his drowning finally end. Even if his son is tune deaf.

In fact, none of his kids are talented in singing, not even Damian. It wasn't a bad thing, but sometimes he wished one of the children could join him in his mother's duets. The ones she wrote for Thomas (his father wasn't the best singer around but Mom always had a way of masking that with her melodies) , and the ones she wrote for Bruce.

She even wrote some songs she wanted to sing at Bruce's wedding, always talking about it, never being too early to have the perfect song for his perfect dance. They were all half finished, because she got distracted and figured she would have time before Bruce actually needed them.

He kept her songs and her music sheets, tucked away in his office behind a fire proof vault. Sometimes he would pull them out and attempt to sing them.

Bruce knows he has an amazing voice, has had multiple people burst into tears after hearing him, but he could never bring himself to partake too long in each song. It hurt too much to think of his mother.

How she sounded better them him, and how he could not remember her speaking voice, but at least her singing lived on in his memories.

The man finishes setting up, moving to stand in front of the camera. He offers the curious crowd a slight wave- he's behind some ropes with a permit hanging off of it, permitting his shoot. The official setup and the strange outfit- robes and a white sheer clothe around his eyes- has gotten the attention of walkbyers. It's why Bruce had looked as well.

He shakes his whole body, before he taps the microphone he has on his scarf. It's adjusted so it's hidden behind cloth, before the man climbs onto the rock statues that are designed to resemble a human skull, it was one of Gotham's oldest and most famous works of art. He sits inside the hole of the skull's left eye, draping himself dramatically on the ledge of it while dangling a leg and facing away from the cameras.

A murmur goes through the crowd, mostly appreciative of his pose and physique. A couple of teenage girls beside him giggle helplessly as the music feels the air.

It's a soft pick up of strings, piano, and it blends well with the man's voice as he gracefully moves his hand through the air, speaking about a prophet giving a warning of a future.

Bruce is mesmerized as the man's voice rises and falls, swaying in the skull. He carefully tilts his head towards the camera, his singing voice rising as the more emotions carefully blend into his warning.

By the chorus, the singer lets himself fall gracefully out of the skull, walking slowly towards the camera, speaking now of a castle in red, and his face slowly gaining more urgency.

Just as he leans into the camera, he spins on his heel repeating the same prophecy, a gripping tragedy of overcoming trails and still failing. It's ends with the man leaping back into his eye, slowly untying his blindfold to reveal glowing green eyes staring and reaching as if the sky was the future he spoke off.

It must be contacts, and yet, Bruce feels like someone kicked him in the chest. Those were his mother's eyes, the same shape and the same color, even if they had a special effect. The song ends with a choir of people singing as he bows his head but Bruce doesn't hear anything over the sound of blood rushing his ears.

The crowd goes wild, clapping and cheering as the man breaks character to grin and smile at everyone, taking some cheeky bows. His mother's hidden kiss and sparkling eyes dancing with the warmth he remembers her by.

Without really realizing it, Bruce steps over the rope, walking towards the stranger as if in a trance. The singer spots him, smiling, dropping as Bruce gets near, "Hey, I rented this area for recording. You have to get behind the rope-"

"Who are you?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Who are you. Why do you look like her?" Bruce breaths more then asks as he pulls out a photo of his mother from his pocket. The man's glowing green eyes- and now that he's close enough, Bruce can tell they are contacts, can see the slight ring around his pupils- blink slowly.

"Wow, she's a female version of me." The man gasps, touching his own face as if he could feel the similarities through his fingers. Holding out the picture makes this so much more uncanny, because the man's effeminate features and age almost makes it seem like Martha Wayne has come back to life.

"She was my mother." Bruce realized with a jolt that they are both at the age his mother died, and it makes something cold settle in his chest as the man blinks up at him.

"Were you ever adopted? My birth parents gave me up when I was born because of some twin superstition. At least that's what my adoptive parents said. I never bothered looking for them. All I know was that her first name was Martha."

Bruce steals some hair to confirm it but he knows deep in his heart the answer long before Danny Fenton, inspiring musical writer, test results come back.

This is his twin his parents gave up.

It takes months of investigation before he finds a centuries-old contract. The Wayne's had long ago promised the Court of Owls the spare of any twin born into the family, and to protect Danny from such a fate, Martha and Thomas faked his death and gave him away the day he was born.

His mother's song, "My lost little song," finally makes sense. She always cried when she sang that song.

[witherby]

With Dick being so angry about Conner breaking in i could only imagine how chatic him actually meeting Conner would be, like having to keeo him in one of those kiddie keashes or he‘ll try to kill the guy 😭

A 17 year restrianing a whole adult man with one of those kid harnesses

Honestly? Yeah. Gimme some genuinely angry Nightwing every once in a while. Let that parentified man get some of that pent-up rage out!!!

The Littlest Wayne: Meet the Family

Masterlist is Here!

Conner opens his eyes and sits up when he hears you step into his room. He stares at you incredulously, then at the darkness and the way it seamlessly folds and bends to your will.

"You're invulnerable?" You ask him.

"Yes?" He responds, confused. It's just past eleven at night, and you've shown up out of nowhere to chat when the only other time you've spoken was when he came to your room three days ago. "A bullet bounces off me at point-blank range. Feels like somebody flicked me with their finger, at most."

"Okay," you say, looking nervous, "because my family found out you broke into the house to talk to me, and they're, like, super livid. I just came to give you fair warning because they might, uh, try to kill you."

Conner chuckles. Your face doesn't change. He stops chuckling.

"What, you're serious?"

"They're looking for their stashes of Kryptonite right now. I hid most of it, but they probably have more I don't know about. Just...be prepared. And don't kill any of them, or you'll have to hide from me, next."

The shadows in his room curl around you again. You step into them and allow darkness to envelop you completely.

"Bye, Conner."

"Um," he blurts, cheeks reddening, "same. I mean, bye. Goodbye to you, too."

He hears you snort in amusement before you're gone again. Conner is then left alone to process, 1, that you were concerned for his well-being enough to come warn him about your family, and 2, that he made you laugh.

He can't sleep the rest of the night, giddy with the swell of adoration he has for you.

--

The next time Luthor has him leave the facility to do his job as Superman, it's when the first Superman has to go off-world again over a month later. Conner stops a bank heist, saves some hostages, puts out a fire, and helps a child find her parents when she wanders too far off in the mall.

Then he meets your youngest sibling.

His moniker is Robin. The implanted information helps Conner identify him immediately, which helps him realize that Robin should not be in Metropolis, and especially not in full costume. Alarm bells are ringing in his head.

"I was warned you might show," Conner says, hovering in the air as he looks down at Robin.

"Then you know what you've done wrong," Robin calls back, unsheathing a sword from his back and pulling a batarang out of his pocket. "Come here and face the consequences."

"I'm fine where I'm at, thanks."

"It wasn't a request, Superboy."

"Superman," Conner frowns.

Robin sneers. "Not from what I see."

Conner feels a flare of anger surge within him. What was the big deal? He just needed to see you. He didn't hurt you — he would never dare — just stopped by your home to talk. And you did the same thing! Why some human with an eye mask and a sword feels like they can berate him for that, he doesn't know, but he's not going to take it lying down.

Faster than Robin can blink, Conner snatches the weapons from his hands and tosses them aside, then flips his cape over his head with a sneer.

"Go home, sidekick," Conner says. "I don't have time for this."

"I do."

Something hits Conner's back. It actually hurts, which is the surprising thing, and he yelps as a man in black and blue spandex descends upon him and starts beating him with a pair of escrima sticks. He falls to his knees, overwhelmed by a brand new sensory input he hasn't experienced before, then brings his arms up to shield his head and curls up further.

Nightwing, his brain registers between the blows. But according to his knowledge base, the man is usually not this violent. He always pulls back from an opponent when they duck down or hit the ground, and Conner is practically in fetal position. His sticks are glowing green, which is not a good sign. Conner feels sick.

"Oh, shit — hey, he's on the ground, pull it back!"

"This wasn't the plan, Nightwing, cool it —"

"I think he's doing great. Let him get a few more swings in."

"Robin you're not helping!"

"Seriously, get off him!"

Conner groans and gasps in pain. His whole body feels like it's on fire. There's sounds of a scuffle happening above him, but he picks up on someone else's shaky breathing a few yards away.

He cracks an eye open and spots a civilian half-hidden around the corner, filming everything happening.

The birds want to come to Metropolis and mess with him? Well, two can play at that game. They're about to be hated by the masses for touching the city's new golden boy.

Conner makes a panicked expression, lifts his arm and waves it in a sweeping motion, and starts shaking his head.

"R-run," he wheezes, "go, get away from here, get to safety!"

"What's he — shit! HEY, C'MERE!" Nightwing gasps, pointing at the civilian. The woman turns and darts into the building she was hiding by, fingers flying across her screen like lightning. "God dammit! Red Robin, can you —"

"I can't," the third figure standing by him says, sounding just as stressed. Conner recognizes both him and the Red Hood's silent figure, who had been physically holding Nightwing back from continuing to swing on him. Robin tsks and presses a few buttons on his gauntlet.

"We'll need to retreat and prepare to do damage control. The batmobile is coming, ETA 30 seconds. What do we do with him?" Robin kicks Conner's arm.

"We can't leave the kid. He's got Kryptonite poisoning and we dunno where his boss is to dump him for medical help," Red Robin says, crossing his arms and sighing. "We gotta take him with us and get the shards out."

"I say leave him anyway. It's just a couple pieces, and if he's as stupidly strong as the real Supes, he'll walk this off," Red Hood suggests.

"We wouldn't have to debate this if Nightwing had kept his cool," Robin grouches. Nightwing has the good graces to look chagrined and tucks his sticks away.

"I'm sorry. I was just thinking about...I'm sorry. C'mon, B will skin is alive if he finds out we left him for dead. Get him in the car."

They're about to abduct him, now, too? Conner almost laughs at the absurdity. All of this, just for paying you a visit? It's madness. But then he imagines some other stranger breaking into your room to talk to you, to touch you, to hurt you, and has to focus his energy to not start burning everything with his laser vision. It's not really absurd anymore. If he could draw a full breath without feeling like white-hot knives are slicing his vary atoms apart, Conner would attempt to explain himself. But he can't, so he doesn't.

He doesn't resist when two of them lift him and start loading his body into the back of a sleek, black vehicle. Metropolis' threats have been neutralized for today, so he technically doesn't need to stay in town. Instead, he closes his eyes and allows himself to drift.

They're taking him to Gotham, which is where you live. He has no qualms with that.

[mixingandmelting]

Hey so how do you think the bat boys would deal with a s/o who’s like the sweetest thing ever and he just sees them get mad, mama bear mode at a super powered hero who could end s/o if they wanted too. Like this super powered hero abused their powers and hurt someone on purpose cuz they’re thought it was funny or like violated their mental privacy with psychic abilities and messed with their head just cuz they are slightly annoyed at them over something mildly inconvenient and basic, (), (a fellow ally hero) and for some reason didn’t see a problem with it and they look confused like they didn’t see the problem as to why they’re being scolded like a bad child and apologise to s/o to appease this s/o cuz they’re friends, and s/o like, “are you kidding me? It’s not me that you need to apologise too and not do that again!”? Maybe the boys have seen slight glimpses into their s/o having some fire in them sent the boys way in the form of some sass when the boys are wrong about something and be stubborn about it?

Dick: 

Does he laugh or cry?  Donna’s covering her mouth with both hands while tapping him every other second to ask if the team should step in. Wally is making him concerned about the potential chance of him dying from hypoxia because he can’t stop laughing. Maybe he should’ve been the one to give the whole lecture why abusing powers for personal reasons is a big no-no. And he was going to do it too, already having the infamous Batman-glare from not being happy, at all, for witnessing the misuse of power for a petty reason. But so far, in his opinion, you’re doing a pretty good job at getting the message across. 

“-Oh, so you think you’re the next Superman or Green Lantern, huh? All big and tough when you resort to using your powers for being called jumbo?” 

See? Plus he’s pretty sure no one, including himself, wants to interfere when you’re like this. You left the Titans a strong impression when you, the warmest and kindest person he has known, showed this side of you before Dick and Gar were about to go at it with each other during a mission that was going wrong. Not only had you asked him if he was trying to prove he’s babygirl  by snapping at his fellow teammate over speakers of his phone, you had gone after everyone else the second your sharp hearing caught the sound of snickering. It was quite a humbling experience to say the least. They managed to actually get themselves back together and  improve their teamwork, starting with everyone comforting each other as soon as you hung up (too bad it didn’t help his case. He still remembers standing in front of the door for over five minutes, hesitant to enter his own home on the day he came back). 

“Are you kidding me? It’s not me you should be apologizing to. Go apologize to the right person and don’t do it again!” 

Oh, no. Well, there’s nothing he can do about it now. He gives the other his condolences, understanding what they must be going through. Doesn’t make the scene any less ridiculous though, the vigilante ten times your size and more powerful, slightly bending forward with a sad puppy look while you’re waving your arms. He plops himself on a broken part of a building and sits back to watch the other party turn around and drag their feet towards the victim while you walk right behind them like a disappointed mother. 

Jason:

He’s turned around, his hand is on the intercom, the other wrapped around his waist to sell the image he’s in the process of tying the loose ends of the finished mission. But it’s getting harder by the second to not burst from the conversation you’re having with the other vigilante. 

“So what you’re telling me is that using your powers to get back at someone because you were annoyed with them is perfectly acceptable and not immature, childish, or stupid. And you’re sure you’re not being immature, childish, AND stupid.”

He covers his snort with a cough. Listen. You’re already considered tiny when with him. Muscles, strength, give or take height. Your heart is the one exception, wider than the sea and accepting to most including himself. To the vigilante? You’re an ant. But here you are, lecturing them to the brink of their ears falling off while they look like a child getting scolded. 

He gets it. Had he been in the hot-seat, he probably would look the same. Out of good faith once, he took Duke  on a mission that involved Black Mask, To give the teen the taste of working as a solo vigilante even though he was far from completing vigilante training. By the time Bruce and the rest of the gang had arrived, his head hung low, standing as if he was the military. You, on the other hand, were forty-one minutes in and counting on your lecture, the poor teen behind you at a loss on whether he should stop you or not. Trust no one in the family to keep silent when people he doesn’t know come up to him at gatherings to ask if the story of him getting served by you is true. He’s still bitter, especially with everyone knowing he can’t do a single thing. Not when it’s tied to gentle and loving you. So when someone who’s close to you and/or him goes through the same misery, it brings him joy from gaining a new comrade, a sympathetic companion. 

“You better get going and apologize right this instance or so help me I will-” 

“That’s my babe.” Jason murmurs, faking a tear from how moved he is under his helmet. Proud that his one love is able to verbally go face-to-face with someone that can squash you if they wanted to. Until it registers in his mind that you’re silent. Turning around, he flinches and awkwardly waves a hand at your glaring form. Well damn. When things were getting good too. 

Tim:

He doesn’t even bat an eyelash to what’s unfolding behind him, going over the mission like normal despite all the glances the JLA gives over his and the rest of Young Justice’s shoulder. 

“Based on how the sediments that were being transported in the crates, we were able to rule out-”

“Sorry to interrupt Robin, but what’s going on behind you four?”

It’s a record-breaking moment. Their responses have never been as in-sync or instantaneous until then.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s not an issue.”

“I don’t see a problem.”

“There’s a problem?” 

The JLA members force themselves to ignore it for the time being from the expression all four of them give. Good. The less questions asked, the better for the team. It was the other day Cass had to face you from the stunt she pulled during said mission they’re going over right now. He knows for a fact that Conner and Bart remember all the times you remind all three males the fire that resides in the soft and sweet you when not taken seriously. When it’s him,Tim can never manage to make eye-contact with you for a few days. Bart hides behind the nearest and largest object the second you’re within a ten-mile radius of him. Conner? He has it the worst. Often left in skin and bones, he used to lie on the floor of his bedroom and contemplate the meaning of life every time someone enters and tries to talk to him. He’s gotten better, having progressed to where he seems to freeze on spot if ignoring the miniscule sniffle he makes. 

You do manage to amaze Tim at the same time, proving to him how  “if there’s a will, there’s a way” is a scientifically proven phrase from the way you stay perfectly fine despite going on for five minutes straight without breathing. 

He does sympathize for the vigilante that can probably kill you on the spot had you not been their friend. From the background of his screen, he can see you point at a certain location before the other dejectedly floats towards that direction. Just in time too. He was running out of ideas on how to stop the league from further finding out Young Justice can’t function without you momming them. 

Duke:

He sends a prayer, wishing the victim to rest in peace. He’s seen you before, experienced first-handedly how you are when you’re in mother-hen mode. And he can say, with complete confidence, the person on the receiving end is a goner. 

Duke’s first time was back during the We Are Robin movement. Looking back, he has to admit younger him was an idiot to think he could dismantle a bomb on his own with no experience, nonetheless one set by Penguin’s men. But him in the past was in his emo-teen phase. Meaning, he didn’t acknowledge or consider all the red flags blaring at his face from how dangerous it was going to be, his mission on proving how useless the adults were to keeping a city safe taking priority. Needless to say, he was a mess when he got back to the base, barely managing to escape with his life intact. 

He thought he knew what was coming when everyone pats his shoulder as they walk out and leave him with you in their meeting room. You didn’t scream. You didn’t yell. The worst part?  He couldn’t defend himself. There was no room for any counter arguments because you knew he knew everything you were saying was right (and because he had a massive crush on but that’s besides the point). Charred front and back, he was instantly put in place and shedding out of his phase there and then. Hence, that moment being the last encounter with that side of you from all the efforts he had put in to do anything to avoid having those horrid times he experienced that day repeat itself again.

“What part of you makes you think it’s me you need to apologize to? On top of messing with a person’s mind because you didn’t like their attitude toward you? Are you sure you’re trying to help save the city? Or are you just- ” 

He shakes his head. He watches the remaining fight in their eyes disappearing, face becoming impossibly paler and ashen when you proceed to shred the remaining dignity in them. On one part, it almost, almost, makes him want to step in and save the other from further looking as if they wanted to dig a hole and bury themselves in it. On another, he’s glad he’s not the one facing your wrath. He can do another day of not going through it, thank you very much. 

Damian: 

He’s having the time of his life. Not as much as he usually does when he ruins a criminal’s perfect night, but still, nonetheless enjoyable. Despite the disapproving eyes Jon shoots at him, his grin grows wider at each strike you give to the vigilante. 

It satisfies him deep in his heart, the image of you destroying their soul piece by piece. Them tasting the hell he constantly goes through.

He suspected you had a fire in your heart since he first met you. How else would it explain your warmth and care you showered others in, including himself? Most cases, he has to maneuver himself to keep most of that warmth to himself. When he doesn’t, that’s when he gets burnt. 

Somehow you always manage to catch him, finding out from someone, perhaps from Drake, Brown, or Todd, about all the reckless actions he did during the mission he went on. Remember the Amazo suit mission he had with Super Boy? You were waiting at his and Super Boy’s hide out the day after it was over. The incident at Lazarus Island? He never wanted to die so much as he did when he had to endure your motherly wrath in front of Suren and Maya. Twice, in fact, after he chased the two that snickered at him during the whole session with his katana.

“Mr. Damian Thomas Wayne-“ is not where you stop. Your grip on his ear is surprisingly strong, where he can’t get you to let go no matter how much he struggles from pure resolve to have him stay where he is. His family had once laughed when he told them how terrifying this skill was, only you in possession of it to his knowledge. Now they, too, fear it having experienced it when they tried to thwart his very much valid and warranted concerns once in front of you. 

“You need to apologize to them, not me! And-Hold on! What do you think you’re doing? Don’t use psychosis! Actually say sorry to them!” 

There’s distraught written all over the vigilante’s face. They aren’t given the choice to choose seeing you don’t budge, leading them to childishly stomp their way towards their fellow teammate, grumbling all the way. They could’ve not listened to you and retaliated back if they really wanted to. Unfortunately, for him, it seems that they want to be in your good grace. Something along the lines of being your friend. Too bad, he disapproves. They’ve been too chummy with you the past few days for his liking and need to be taught the bare requirements to be close to you.

[lunajay33]

Suppose to be You

•🖤🍑🏹🧟‍♀️•

Summary: You’re Shane’s girlfriend but when the apocalypse hits you find him changing and find yourself leaning more towards the only person who gives you the time of day, also you’re Rick’s younger sister

Pairing: Shane x f!reader, Daryl Dixon x f!reader

Warning: Shane’s a cheater obvi, harsh words, Merle

•Masterlist•

I first met Shane when my older brother Rick first started bringing him around the house, I never thought much of him but as we got older he started flirting and we only started dating when I turned 22, about a year ago, it’s been fun but then I lost my brother and then the world got taken over by walkers and that leads to now, camped out in a quarry on the outskirts of Atlanta

We took my sister in law, Lori and my nephew with us but after being here for a while Shane’s been treating me differently, like I’m just a burden to him

Sitting around the fire I’m sat across from Shane as he’s right next to Lori, I understand him wanting to console her her husband died, but he was my brother and I’m Shane’s girlfriend I just thought he’d try to console me even just a little

“You alright sweetie?” Dale asks from next to me

“Oh I’m fine thanks for asking though” I smile trying to brush it off but inside I’m hurting deeply like I’m loosing everything

“I think I’m just gonna head to bed early” I say standing up to leave, all Shane did was glance at me before his eyes went back to the fire, Carl got up and gave me a quick hug

“Night auntie y/n” he smiles, he’s always been the sweetest kid

“Night honey” I walk away as the cool of the night started to envelope me, instead of going back to the tent I went down to the quarry shore, I knew how to take care of myself around walkers I just need to be alone

I sat down feeling all the pressure weighing down on my chest, I lost my brother, then the world ends and now my boyfriend treats me like garbage, what else do I have…….whats the point

Finally letting the tears fall I let it all out before I hear branched snapping behind me, I turn nervously wiping the tears away sighing in relief when I realize it’s just Daryl Dixon, thankfully not accompanied by his ass of a brother Merle

“What’re ya doin down here alone” he asks his eyes squinted at me but for some reason he didn’t make me nervous

“Ummm just needed to get away, what’re you doing down here?”

“Just came back from a hunt saw ya down here……wanted ta check on ya”

My heart skipped a beat, something I haven’t felt in a long time now

“Come on let’s get ya ta bed” he huffed motioning back towards the path, it was a silent walk up to the camp but it was a comfortable silence

I got to mine and Shane’s tent when I hear his fast heavy footsteps heading our way

“The hell are you doing alone with Daryl Dixon” he groans gripping my arm and roughly pulling me away from Daryl

“Shane that hurts, he was just keeping me company” I look back at Daryl and I swear if looks could kill Shane would definitely be dead on the ground

“Get lost Dixon, go back to your dick of a brother” Daryl’s eyes landed on mine and I could see them soften before he left, the further the got the more I wanted to run to him instead of being near the person I should be safe with

“The hell were you thinking”

“Like you’d care” I sigh looking down to the ground

“What’re you talking about you’re my girlfriend of course I care”

“I can’t do this right now Shane I just wanna go to bed, I think I’m gonna stay with Carl tonight, Lori can stay with you bet she’ll love that” I brush him off and walk past him to the smaller tent Carl and Lori stayed in, thankfully they were still out so I could just finally have a moment of peace

How could I feel more peace and safety around a redneck man that I barely know, than my boyfriend I’ve known almost my whole life

I quickly drifted off to sleep welcoming the darkness

•

I woke up early the next morning to the subtle chirping of birds, I quietly left the tent trying not to wake up a still sleeping Carl

Looking around there wasn’t anyone up yet so I went at sat at the camp fire that still had some embers burning

“Hey, what’re ya doing up so early” I hear next to me seeing it’s Daryl again, usually he’d have a snippy attitude with the others in the camp but lately he’s been nice to me and I honestly didn’t care why I just needed someone to cheer me up

“Just couldn’t sleep much I guess, I’ve got a lot on my mind” I say poking at the fire

“Here” he grunted handing me a granola bar he must’ve gotten from his stash

“Thanks”

Then he was gone dissapearing through the thick tree line most likely going for a hunt again

Slowly people started to filter out of their tents and start getting ready for the day, I see Shane making his way towards me with his typical scowl that he never use to use towards me, I look away and turn my back to him

“Have you calmed down since last night” I scoff looking up at him as he towered over me trying to scare me asserting his dominance

“Just leave me alone, you only act like I matter when someone else is giving me attention, tell me do you even love me anymore?” He paused for a moment before answering

“Of course you just gotta stop being selfish I’m trying to console a grieving widow”

“Yeah well he was my brother Shane, did you forget that, just get away from me” I brush past him going towards the trees for some peace and quiet but when I’m deeper in the woods I feel him behind me squeezing my shoulder and he pushes me against a tree

“Shane what are you doing let me go”

“You better watch your mouth don’t forget who saved you when all this started” now he’s trying to guilt trip me

“I could’ve made it on my own, I probably would’ve been happier alone” he raised his hand before a bow zipped between us landing on the tree next to us

“You touch her like that again don’t think I would beat your ass down” Daryl growled coming closer taking my hand and putting me behind him as he stared down Shane

“You think you could take me Dixon, you may be a filthy redneck but don’t think I won’t take YOU”

“Shane just go away, why don’t you go check on poor Lori” I say holding onto Daryl’s arm tighter out of fear, a fear I’ve never felt around Shane before

He huffed before tromping off back towards the camp, when he was far enough away I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding as I let all the emotions flood me

“God Daryl I’m so sorry to get you mixed in this, I don’t…..I don’t know why he’s like this, he never us to treat me like this and I’m…..I’m scared to be around him now” he takes both my shoulders in his hands and makes me face him gently

“It ain’t yer fault peach, I’ve been around my share of angry men and he’s a ticking time bomb, ya can’t be stay around him”

“If you can’t tell I don’t have no where else to go” my chest felt like it had a thousand bricks on it

“Ya can stay next ta me, we got an extra tent”

“Are you sure, what about Merle won’t he be mad”

“I can deal with that grump, come on let’s get ya settled” I’ve never heard Daryl speak so much but I can’t complain he’s like my saviour right now

•

We got the little tent sat up next to him that was a bit further away from the others but I didn’t care much, the further I am from Shane the better

“Thanks for all this Daryl” I say as we both finally settle down around the fire he sat up since night was falling

“Look at this, my lil bro got himself some tail” Daryl was cut of before he could speak by Merle’s grating voice as he plopped down across from us at the fire

“Merle give it up”

“She staying here now, good ta know we got some action right next door” he grins that sends unsettling chills down my spine

“I’m not doing that Merle for the thousandth time, I just needed some space”

“Finally figured out yer cop boyfriend is cheatin on ya?” My heart stopped, suddenly everything made sense, why he always stayed with Lori, why they’d both dissapear at the same time, why Lori could barely look me in the eyes

“Oh my god I feel so stupid how did I not notice I must look so pathetic to everyone” I groan as I drop my head in my hands

“He dont deserve ya, he’s the pathetic one” Daryl said softly as I heard Merle’s steps retreating into his tent, Daryl must’ve shooed him off

“You know why my brother first got shot I was a mess, couldn’t leave his side I was always so filled with anxiety I was basically wasting away but one day Shane convinced me to take a day to myself so I did, I went home and cleaned up and everything, the next thing I know Shane is busting in dragging me to the truck telling me everyone is dropping like flies and my brothers dead, then suddenly he treats me like a piece of trash, only Lori mattered, and…..he almost hit me today, that’s not the man I knew something’s wrong with him, sure he’s always been a bit hot tempered but this is different and all I can think about is……what is he comes after me again but no one’s there to help me” I sigh finally letting everything off my chest

“Ya ain’t goin no where alone anymore, I’ll protect ya” he said gently placing a hand on my back for a moment before it was gone again

“I can’t ask that of you, I’m not your problem”

“Believe it or not, yer the only person in this camp that doesn’t drive me up the wall, I’d like ta keep ya around a lil longer” he smiled as his words cheered me up a bit, I’ve never seen him genuinely smile and it’s making me feel all light headed

“Let’s head to bed……it’s been a long day” I stand up heading to my little tent as he did his next to mine

“Night D”

“Night Peach” his gaze stayed on me for a moment longer before he entered his tent, only making me think what life would be like if I had met Daryl first maybe I’d me happier

•

Part.2<-

[sugarcherris]

Narancia who looks up to reader headcanons

Brotherly & Older sister bond

Aka: chaotic sibling energy, platonic, wholesome, domestic, fluff, a bit of angst, and Mista being Mista mentions his own dick

(Reader is a chainsmoker... don't smoke kids)

Narancia “borrows” (Reader)’s eyeliner

(Reader) has the perfect winged liner, sharp enough to cut someone. Narancia starts trying to copy it. He sucks at it at first and pokes himself in the eye. She doesn’t help him right away,just watches with that smug little grin.

When he finally nails it, (Reader) gives him a smug, approving head pat.

“There you go. Didn’t even stab yourself in the eye with my eyeliner this time.”

He flips her off but preens the rest of the day.

Team reactions:

Fugo: “You two are unhinged.”

Mista: “I’m stealing this look too. Pass the mirror.”

Abbacchio: Glares in disgust but looks just a second too long at the wing.

(Reader) calls him “ragazzino” (little boy) when shes feeling playful or condescending

It infuriates him.

“I’m not a kid, dammit!”

“Then stop kicking the back of the van seat or I will tie your knees with your bandana!”

He still lets her ruffle his hair right after that.

They have stupid secret handshakes

Not one. Multiple.

They change it every month and forget half of it mid-handshake and just turn it into a slap fight.

Somehow it always ends with (Reader) flicking Narancia in the forehead.

They make “mixtapes” for each other

Narancia starts writing her tracklists of songs he thinks she’d like—rock, metal, dramatic anime OPs he won’t admit he loves.

(Reader) writes hers on torn napkins in lipstick: metalcore breakdowns, and “old people music,” according to Narancia.

Bonus

Fugo: (Secretly steals one of (Reader)’s playlists. Pretends he didn’t.)

Narancia hides behind her when Bucciarati’s mad

Classic younger sibling move. Bucciarati raised his voice, and Narancia ducks behind (Reader)

(Reader) just raises an eyebrow, does not protect him, and says,

“Don’t drag me into this. He’s mad at you, not me.”

Narancia stares in betrayal

Bonus:

Later she sneaks him a sweet from her pocket when Bucciarati isn’t looking.

They graffiti stuff together

They tag alley walls with little stylized versions of each other’s names or dumb phrases like “(stand name) was here (so was Aerosmith)”.

(Reader)’s handwriting is elegant and sharp. Narancia’s is chaotic. Together it looks unhinged.

Team reactions

Bucciarati: “You tagged our safehouse?”

Narancia: “It’s ART.”

(Reader): “It’s coded. They won’t know what it means.”

Fugo: “You used your stand names! They’ll know exactly what it means!”

Abbacchio: “I hate you all.”

They try to cook together once. Just once.

The kitchen never recovers. Powdered sugar on the ceiling. A knife embedded in the floor. Fire extinguisher was used. Twice.

Bucciarati puts them on kitchen probation. (Reader) sneaks in anyway. Narancia just watches for lookout and giggles.

Narancia “guards” her cigarettes

She left her pack behind one time and he grabs it, dramatically guarding it like a chihuahua.

“If you want them, you have to answer three riddles.”

“Narancia, I will kick your ass.”

She gets them back by pulling his bandana down over his eyes and just taking them.

He once tried to steal a cigarette from her. Never again.

(Reader) had left a half smoked cigarette on the ashtray, and Narancia, wanting to be cool, took a quick drag.

Immediate, violent coughing fit. Red watery eyes. Almost fell off the chair.

(Reader) didn’t even look up. Just chuckled

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

The whole team laughed except for Bucciarati, who just sighed.

Bonus:

Narancia still tries to act like he smokes sometimes, resting an unlit cigarette between his fingers like she does with her lit one. He gets so mad when she calls him out on it.

Narancia falls asleep next to her during long car rides.

She lets it happen. Doesn’t shove him off.

He sleeps with his head leaning against the window at first, but eventually, when he gets really exhausted, his head tips onto her shoulder.

The first time, she smirks and mutters, “Comfortable?”

The fifth time, she just sighed and quietly adjusts her jacket so it drapes over him a little. Doesn’t say a word.

Team reactions:

Bucciarati: Says nothing but notice with a warm smile.

Mista:Giggling, thinking it’s cute but will draw on narancia face and (Reader) lets him.

Fugo: Mild disgust. “You’re drooling on her.”

Abbacchio: “Wake him up by pushing him out of the car. Do it. For me.”

(Reader) hates it when Narancia pulls reckless stunts.

Few times, he jumped into a fight headfirst before backup arrived.

He came out fine, but (Reader) was furious. She never yells at him except that time. After much built up frustrations because of his mistakes and words entering his ear out the other.

“Do you wanna die? Huh? That’s your goal?”

He snapped back at her “What the hell are you my mom?shut the hell up bitch!”

Silence. Tension. He stormed off, but later that night, she threw a bag of sweets at his head.

They never talked about it, but the next mission, she covered him a little closer.

if (Reader) has tattoos? Narancia wants to get a tattoo because she has them.

“What if I get something cool? Like a knife? Or a skull? Or or or A PLANE!”

(Reader), blowing out smoke “You’d cry.”

“No, I wouldn’t!”

He drags her to a parlor once. The moment the needle comes close, he flinches hard.

“I’m not ready yet,” he mutters. She crosses her arm looking amused and pays the guy off.

If (Reader) has piercings? Narancia tries to copy her piercings

• He gets a second ear piercing by stapling his ears (Staplers were stolen from Bucciarati office) just because he saw hers glinting in the sun one day. She just chuckled at his stupidity whilst treating the infection.

• "Thought it looked cool on you... So..."

•She just hums, but she's clearly smiling. She took him to the piercer parlor the next day.

Team reactions:

Mista: "Sickkkk, should | get a dick piercing?"

Fugo: "You're all stupid."

Bucciarati: Groaning mentally. Locking his office next time.

Abbacchio: "Jesus Christ."

Giorno: (Standing on the side ready to give him a new ear)

"If you died I'd go feral.”

•(Reader) stares at him with an unreadable expression" Good."

• It's said like a joke, but the silence after it hangs a little longer than it should.

“If I go first, you better not cry, ragazzino.”

Mafia life is dangerous. They joke about it sometimes.

Narancia, scoffing: “You’re not gonna die before me.You’re much stronger and smarter than me!If anything it’ll be me.”

(Reader), tilting her head: “Mmm. You sure?”

He hates that answer. He doesn’t know why, but it sticks with him longer than it should.

When she’s out late, Narancia worries.

He’s not obvious about it, but if she’s gone longer than expected, he starts getting antsy.

Checks his watch. Paces. Cold hands.

If she comes back with blood on her glove, he doesn’t ask questions, just mutters, “You good?”

She grins, “Why? Miss me?”

He huffs, “Pfft No, just making sure you didn’t get your dumb ass killed.”

They both know he was actually worried.

This is my first time writing a fanfic/headcanon! Phewwww hope you guys enjoyed this!! Maybe I’ll write narancia and (reader) first meeting and how they bond grew to be 🫡

[batsandbirdbrains]

The one where Dick goes undercover as a Talon

This one is really just me spitballing but imagine like in season 2 of young justice, Artemis decides not to go undercover or come back. And so Dick is left in a pickle, but he decides to exploit his connection to the court of owls. He’d been kidnapped once when he was a couple years into being Robin, spent a few months being trained by his great-grandfather to be a Talon, until he escaped and Batman found him and brought him home.

He becomes a double agent, but the court thinks he’s their double agent. The others don’t realize that he’s even undercover, because his face is always covered when he’s a Talon. Kaldur is the only one who knows.

William Cobb is just smug that his great-grandson has joined him. Dick tries not to feel slimy and scuzzy whenever Cobb lays a hand on his shoulder or praises him.

It’s a very long few months of Dick running himself ragged. He’s got a million things going on, he’s responsible for so much, and now he has to navigate the court joining up with the light and being in the middle of all of it. He has to do missions as a Talon to prove his worth. He tells himself it’s worth it.

When Cobb practically brags to their colleagues in the light about his Gray Son, Dick wants to tear his skin off and run back home, but Bruce isn’t there to protect him. He got himself into this mess. He has to keep playing the game so he can get himself out.

When Deathstroke recognizes him and starts laughing, Dick feels dirty. When Slade slips behind him, laying a heavy hand on Dick’s shoulder and whispers in his ear, “Always knew you had it in you, kid,” Dick wants to run and hide. He wants to rip his ears off. He wants to be lit on fire until he turns to ash and scatters away in the wind.

Instead, Cobb brings him back to the court and pins him down on a medical table, giving him an IV with modified electrum. It won’t give him immortality, but it will speed up his healing, enhance his senses.

“You’ll get the full cocktail once you’re older,” Cobb practically coos at him as Dick shivers on the exam table, his muscles twitching as the electrum moves through his veins. “But for now, this will do.”

Dick wants to die.

He starts to feel like he’s seizing, like he can’t breathe, like there’s fire and ice fighting in his veins.

He wants Bruce. But Bruce is in Rimbor. He isn’t coming to save him.

Dick is in a haze the next few days, but he manages to get everything done. He manages to act normally around the team. No one notices anything out of the ordinary.

He really is an excellent actor when he wants to be.

A few months later, he even manages to put a stop to the whole invasion while he’s still getting the shakes at the most inopportune times.

His status as a Talon gets exposed in the end. He explains that he was a double agent, that he and Kaldur both were, that he’d done it to give Kaldur backup, but no one seems to care. They just care about what they saw the Talons do, what they saw Dick do.

Dick eventually just sits there while they all shout at him, and that’s when the shakes come back. Cobb had just given him another dose of modified electrum the day before. He’s shivering, and his right arm keeps twitching, his fingers flexing and unflexing. He hides it under the table, gripping it with his left hand to try and still the trembling.

It’s Bruce who finally shouts for everyone else to be quiet. It’s Bruce who notices that something is wrong. It’s Bruce who rushes to his side, blocking Dick from view so no one else can see him. It’s Bruce who asks him what’s wrong.

Dick moves his eyes to stare at Bruce. His eyes are moving rapidly, looking all over Bruce’s cowled face. Bruce can tell even when Dick is still wearing the mask, so he removes it to see more of what’s wrong, to get a better idea.

The veins around Dick’s eyes and temples are dark. Bruce immediately pushes his cowl down and holds Dick’s face in his hands, wanting a clear look. His breathing is just slightly more labored, more panicked.

“What did he do to you?” Bruce asks. His voice is strained, terrified. It makes everyone else finally push aside their anger to see how run down Dick looks, and they notice the dark veins and the yellow specks in Dick’s eyes.

“It’s not permanent,” Dick chokes out. “It will go away in a couple days.”

“How many times?” Bruce sounds furious. It’s making Dick want to run away and hide. “Dick, how many times has this happened?”

Dick just shakes his head. He’s not sure. He’s lost count. The days have all sort of blended together.

“Dick-“

“Can we go home?” Dick interrupts, his voice cracking.

Bruce is quiet for a long time. He keeps Dick’s hands held tightly in his, running his thumbs over Dick’s knuckles. His eyes keep scanning Dick’s face, taking everything in.

No one else speaks. No one interrupts. No one hardly moves a muscle.

“Yeah,” Bruce says gently. “We can go home now. Let’s go.”

Dick is detoxed for the next week. He sticks to Bruce like the glue for the next few months.

[eclipixels]

Babysitting

Jason Todd x Reader

Content: You and Jason get tasked with babysitting

[1,917 words]

      You and Jason had been called in at the last minute to babysit Dick and Kori's daughter, Mar’i. Damian had more important things to do (probably brooding somewhere), and Wally, well, he wasn’t trusted to babysit anymore after a certain incident. That left you two—definitely not parents, but trusted enough to make sure their kid didn't accidentally set the house on fire.

      Jason had made a comment earlier about the whole thing being a bad idea. "I'm not built for this," he muttered, sitting on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table. "You know I’ve got a reputation to uphold."

      You had just rolled your eyes. "She’s not that bad, J. Besides, it’ll be fun. You’re good with kids."

      He shot you a skeptical look. "When did that happen?"

      "Let’s see… maybe when you stopped acting like a psychopath and started being halfway decent to people?"

      He grumbled something under his breath but let it go, giving in. That was Jason Todd for you, more complicated than a five-page essay on why not to mess with Gotham.

      Mar’i was busy in the living room, stacking blocks in her little fortress-building project. Her black hair, inherited from Dick, was tied up in pigtails, and her emerald green eyes sparkled with mischief as she concentrated on making sure no two blocks were out of place.

      You were on the floor next to her, organizing some blocks into colors when Jason casually asked, “What’s she building again?”

      “A fortress.” You glanced at the little girl, who nodded sagely.

      “A fortress?” Jason raised an eyebrow. "For what, exactly?"

      “Defending against bad guys!” Mar’i chimed in, her voice full of excitement. “Like you!” she added, pointing directly at Jason.

      Jason snorted and leaned back on the couch. “Me? A bad guy? Why am I always the bad guy?”

      "Because you're the only one who can be bad," Mar’i said with a grin, somehow more confident in her statements than she probably should’ve been at her age.

      “Alright, little one. You’re about to see just how bad I can get,” Jason said dramatically, getting to his feet.

      You shook your head but smiled, knowing Jason had a soft spot for his niece despite his tough exterior. “Uh-huh, you’re really selling it there, Romeo. Let’s just finish the fortress so we don’t lose this round.”

      Suddenly, there was a loud noise above you, a scratching, scuttling sound that definitely didn’t belong. But to your surprise, Mar’i was nowhere near the ground anymore.Y

      You blinked. “What the...?”

      Jason turned to look, his face full of confusion as Mar’i’s voice echoed from above.

      “Guys! I’ve got a better idea!” she shouted, her voice coming from the ceiling. Your eyes darted upward, and sure enough, there she was, clinging to the ceiling.

      Jason’s jaw dropped. “How—?”

      Before he could finish his sentence, Mar’i dropped down from the ceiling, landing on her feet with the precision of an acrobat. She grinned like a little troublemaker. “I made a tunnel! The bad guys won’t even know what hit them!”

      You blinked again, trying to comprehend what had just happened. “Did you just—did you just crawl on the ceiling?”

      Mar’i shrugged innocently, her tiny hands on her hips. “Yup. Mommy and Daddy taught me. It’s like an easy trick.”

      Jason rubbed his temples as though trying to process the entire situation. “Okay, first of all, why is that an easy trick? And second, why did your parents teach you to do this?”

      Mar’i looked at him, deadpan. “You want me to go back to my fortress and defend it?”

      Jason’s expression softened. Despite the fact that his brain was still trying to make sense of the fact that this little girl could defy gravity at such a young age, he smiled. “Alright, alright. You win. I’m the bad guy. You’re the hero. But know this…” He leaned forward, making a show of cracking his knuckles. “I’m not going easy on you.”

      “Bring it on!” Mar’i yelled back with a devilish grin.

      You just sat there, slack-jawed. “You’re seriously going to go along with this?”

      Jason shot you a look that said, You know what? Why not?

      You sighed and stood up. “Fine. But if you break anything, I’m calling the big bat before I call Grayson”

      Jason raised an eyebrow, already getting into character. “He’ll probably reimbursh for everything. You know he’s got a soft spot for Mar’i”

      Mar’i was already back in her fortress, peeking around the corner with only her eyes visible. “Come on, bad guy! Let’s see what you’ve got!”

      Jason nodded, cracking his neck as he casually strolled forward, pretending to ignore the fact that Mar’i was doing some acrobatic backflips around the room. “Alright, kid. Get ready. This fortress? It's going down.”

      Just as Jason reached for one of the block towers, Mar’i leapt from a shelf on the opposite side of the room, landing on his back and immediately trying to knock him over like a wrestler. “Gotcha!”

      Jason stumbled for a second, then grinned. “Not bad. But you forgot one thing.”

      “Oh yeah? What’s that?” Mar’i asked, tilting her head.

      “Never underestimate the bad guy,” Jason said, spinning around and scooping her up off his back. He tossed her in the air and caught her, grinning. “Your fortress might be safe, but you’re not getting away that easy.”

      “Wait a minute, you’re supposed to be the bad guy! You can’t just—” Mar’i laughed, but then she twisted around and pointed at you. “Help! The bad guy is taking me hostage!”

      Jason smirked. “Oh, you’ve already lost. It’s game over.”

      As the two of them continued their playful “battle,” you couldn’t help but laugh. Sure, it was chaos, and things might get a little out of hand, but you’d never expected babysitting to be this entertaining. Mar’i had her parents’ adventurous spirit, and Jason, well, he was having way more fun than he’d like to admit.

      And you? You were just here for the ride. Even if you did have to deal with the aftermath of broken furniture and very strange, upside-down ceiling crawls.

      But hey, that’s what you signed up for.

      Jason would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little sad when Grayson came back to pick up his daughter. It wasn’t the usual case where Jason would be happy for things to go back to normal. No, today was different. He’d spent the last few hours getting a crash course in chaos, laughter, and, for once, not being the one causing all the destruction.

      Mar’i had attached herself to his leg as soon as Dick had walked through the door, her little arms wrapped around him in a tight hug. “Daddy, don’t go yet! Can you come back another day to play? I want to build another fortress!”

      Dick chuckled, bending down to scoop her up. “You know I have work, sweetheart. Maybe next time, okay?”

      Mar’i pouted, clearly torn between her desire to keep her fortress intact and the fact that she had to say goodbye to her most favorite "bad guy" in the world. “But I like Uncle Jason! He’s fun!”

      Jason gave a half-hearted shrug, though a grin tugged at the corners of his lips. He had to admit, having the little girl look at him like that was a strange kind of feeling. “Don’t get too attached, kid. I’m a dangerous criminal.” He threw a glance at Dick. “Right?”

      Dick rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you’re real dangerous, Todd.”

      “Okay, fine. Just—don’t forget me!” Mar’i finally relented, giving him one last hug before she was gently placed into her father’s arms.

      Jason chuckled as he watched them go, a weird, unfamiliar feeling settling in his chest. He wasn’t sure what it was. Maybe it was the way Mar’i’s laugh still echoed in the air, or the fact that he had actually enjoyed himself. Maybe it was the fact that for once, he had been the one to show someone else how to embrace the chaos.

      When the door clicked shut behind Dick and Mar’i, Jason let out a long sigh and fell back against the couch. He stared at the door, his lips pressing into a thoughtful line.

      You, still sitting on the couch beside him, couldn’t help but notice the change in his demeanor. His usual tough-guy act had faded for a moment, and there was a softness in his expression you rarely saw.

      "That was cute," you said, humming softly as you stretched out on Jason’s lap, trying to get comfortable after the whirlwind of the afternoon.

      Jason’s hand immediately slid to the back of your neck, absentmindedly stroking the skin there as he looked toward the door. His voice was low, almost contemplative. "Yeah. Made me think... maybe having one of our own wouldn’t be such a bad thing."

      You nearly choked. “What?”

      His hand froze, and he turned his gaze to you, a smirk pulling at his lips. “You heard me.”

      For a moment, you just stared at him, trying to process what he’d just said. The idea of Jason Todd, your Jason, the one who made sarcastic comments every other minute, saying something like that threw you completely off balance.

      Now that you thought about it, he would make a pretty damn good father.

      You tried to hide the laugh that bubbled up. The guy who still had a tendency to hold grudges over the smallest things, was talking about fatherhood like it was a casual weekend hobby.

      “As fond of the idea as I am, I’m not sure if the world is ready for a mini Jason Todd and Y/n L/n,” you said, finally breaking into a smile.

      Jason grinned, leaning in closer to you. “Maybe not. But you’ve got a point. We’d probably make one hell of a team. Think about it—our kid would be the perfect mix of stubbornness, sarcasm, amazing survival instincts and, of course, good looks.”

      Your heart skipped a beat, and you looked at him, half-amused, half-skeptical. “Jason, I think you’re getting ahead of yourself here.”

      He let out a laugh, his hand still lazily resting on your neck. “Hey, I’m just saying. We’d get to see Mar’i more for playdates”

      You let out a breath, feeling the warmth of his hand on you. “There are other ways to spend time with Mar’i than giving her a cousin.”

      “Fair” He put a hand on his chin before pulling you in closer on top of him for a kiss, “but I like my idea better.”

[shy-writer-999]

I’m a sucker for possessive sex, so! Anyone you think would be prone to engaging in that? Lots of love bites and demanding to know who their SO belongs to and is in love with, the whole nine yards.

My immediate answers are Zoro and Law, but honestly I could see it with a lot of people, e.g. Sanji as a dom is great to imagine, and Ace being aggressive and nasty like that is a nice treat to think about too!

To be clear, I say Zoro and Law, but I also think they’d have the proclivity to be very gentle and loving in bed, since they’d both cherish their partner beyond words. But I think they’d get naaaasstyyy about it too.

Shanks and Kid? 100% yes.

I’m not Luffy-pilled enough to make a great call on him. Part of me thinks he would, but the other part of me thinks perhaps not? Idk. Luffy lovers, what do you think?

I wrote a short drabble for afab reader & any of the men above, check it out under the cut. If you’d like me to give it a shot for g/n reader with no mentions of anatomy, lmk! Also thanks for such an amazing ask (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

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Your back rests on his chest and your thighs are spread wide around his. Rough fingers rub around your clit and down your inflamed, sopping wet folds; your hips buck as electric shocks of pleasure wash over your body.

After teasing your slit, stretching it out just a little bit, he starts bullying and pressing on your sensitive spot until you’re squirming. When he finally pushes his cock deep inside of you, you’re already begging for it. He’s been teasing you for so long that you’re starting to go fucking crazy. How much can your eyes roll back in your head before you cum all over his dick?

But he won’t let you cum until you tell him what he wants to hear.

“Whose pussy is this? Say my fuckin’ name, pretty.” He grinds his hips up into you, stoking the fire of pleasure raging between your thighs with every ragged breath. “Say it.”

“Tell me who you love, baby. Tell me who you want to fuck you.” His voice is gruff and gravelly as he starts getting lost in a haze of pleasure. “You’re mine. All mine. Pussy is mine. Fuckin’ nasty and all mine.”

When he realizes that you’re grinding back into his cock, trying to fuck yourself deeper with it, he gets turned on beyond belief. “You want more, huh? Cunt gets wetter every time I tell you I own you?”

Before you know it, he’s biting your shoulder so hard you yelp—it’s certainly going to leave a crescent-shaped mark. His teeth sink in slightly and you let out a whine.

“You belong to me.” He’s grunting and shuddering while his hips buck and press on your g-spot. Your toes are curling in pleasure every time he lets you know that you are his and no one else’s. “Now cum on my dick before I have to remind you whose you are again.”