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thebestandworstdayofjune · 6 months ago

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clark kent loves quietly

This is a collection of head canons I wrote with David!Clark in mind, but would really work for any Clark iteration. That teaser trailer did something to my brain

He knows that you hate being spooked, and his quiet footfalls have gotten the better of you more times than you would ever admit. When he comes home from a day of work, or finds you tucked into whatever you are working on, he purposefully makes sure that his footfalls are heavy, so that you hear him coming. You jump slightly when he notches his chin in the space between your head and shoulder, but he is quick to squeeze you tight and soothe them away.

You would think that he tries to fight your battles for you, protection hard wired into his veins. But he’s much the opposite. He knows that you can take care of yourself (super-human threats excluded, of course) and is happy to watch you stand up for yourself. It’s nice to see you love yourself loudly by making your wishes known.

This man can cook. He spent a lot of time with his mom in the kitchen, who used cooking to cope after his father passed. He absorbed every second of it, intent on making the memories last. Food is one of his love languages now. He will pick up your favorites if he is eating out, but when you are having a particularly hard day, he plops you down on the couch with your beverage of choice in hand, and insists you don’t move. You had assumed that cooking would be frustrating for him, all the super speed in the world can’t make onions caramelize faster, but he finds it so soothing- especially when he knows that you’re going to give him one of your big smiles, the kind saved just for him, at the end of it all. His specialties are casseroles and chilis and his mom’s fluffy biscuits, if you were wondering.

Does his best to mind his business (keeping his super hearing off the speed of your heart) as long as you promise to let him know what is bothering you as soon as you’re comfortable. He hates to see you hurting, but also respects that sometimes you need to process on your own. It’s unspoken between the two of you, you’ll curl up with him when you’re ready and spill your guts, and he will have a super powered ear at the ready.

Any of your accomplishments are office gossip for weeks, because he is telling everyone. A picture of you with the degree you finished several months into dating is framed on his desk, when you accept his proposal he finds ways to slip it into most conversations. You always blush, which fills him with pride. He insists it isn’t gossiping if it’s talking about yourself. You smile and resist the urge to point out that it is often more so about you. He views you as a singular unit in all things, and you can’t find it in yourself to complain.

Clark was simultaneously terrified when you figured out that he was the one flying around the city fighting super humans (and rescuing the occasional cat stuck in a tree), and not the least bit surprised. He has long considered you one of the smartest people that he has ever known. He chides himself for not preparing for it better. He stood speechless for several moments, before tripping over his words, a muddled confusion of explanation and apology. He calmed when you smiled shyly at him, approaching him like he might spook at any minute. He stilled, allowing you to take control of the situation and gently slip your hand into his. You squeezed, he squeezed back, and the rest was history.

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couldeatthatgirlforlunch · 10 months ago

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The Lost Condom

Synopsis: You were in the middle of a spicy time with your boyfriend, when something odd happened: the condom disappeared. Inside. Of. You.

The solution? Go to the hospital.

The problem? Your family didn't know about your relationship.

Pairing: Jon Kent X Gn!AFAB!Reader; Platonic!Batfam

Tw: 18+; Only mention and slight description of genitals and sex, but nothing too explicit; All characters are aged up of course; English isn't my 1st language.

Word count: 1,8k.

Requested? Nah.

Extra notes: This isn't an original idea of mine, it's based on a real life story someone told me. Also the family finding out scene was inspired by this fanfic from @dccomicsimagines and this scene from Megamind. Also, eventually I will work on the asks waiting for me I swear 😭

General masterlist

So… You were in the middle of… Having fun… With your boyfriend… When suddenly, he said something that really confused you.

— Hmm… Babe… Where’s the condom? — Your head snapped back to look at him, since you were on all fours.

— Where's the ‘what’? — Your eyes were wide, unconsciously. Jon was blushing intensely, looking from your eyes to your entrance. He didn't know how to explain.

— I-I-I put it inside with the condom on, but now it's… Gone! — You narrowed your eyes. You watched him wrap and then enter you, you didn't feel him pull out at any moment, and even if he did, why would he tell you that he pulled out, took the condom off and then put it inside again secretly while you were still going at it?

You were both silent for a few seconds.

— Search for it! — You practically yelled at him, making him scramble to get off of you. You laid with your back down and legs open, looking at the ceiling, trying to calm down and not feel embarrassed. You felt him entering you with his fingers and searching around for minutes, grumbling and getting frustrated. The sensation was good… But you had bigger priorities at hand!

You huffed and changed positions a few times. A pillow underneath your butt, legs up, on all fours. Nothing worked. You even searched around the room and the bed, just to be sure. At some point, you both defeatedly decided it was best you go to the hospital.

The thing is, your relationship was still new, and no one in your family was aware. Lois and Clark already knew and approved, and you thought Cass suspected you were seeing someone, but you hadn't told them yet.

Especially Damian.

You and Jon knew each other years before Damian was even part of the family, since Bruce raised you since your birth — you were the product of one of his affairs, your biological mother didn't want to raise you, but she also didn't want to abort, so she and Bruce agreed that he would have you as soon as you were born — and he's best friend was Clark. Although, you didn't see each other much back then. It was after the Supersons became a team and besties that he started frequenting the manor more. You always had a childhood crush on each other — Jon thought you were beautiful and nice, and you thought he was cute and sweet, very different from the gross and rude boys from your school. —. Until you were each other's first kiss, then years later, first relationship, and first time. Of course, all in secret from Damian. The older family members only knew about your crush because of your physical language, but since you grew older and learned to hide, they assumed it was just a childish crush from the past.

Lois and Clark knew and approved, but they also always reminded you that you needed to tell Bruce soon, or at least Alfred, especially after you started being sexually active.

Unfortunately, the day came. Yes, you and Jon were old enough to have sex, but too young to be mature and brave enough to go to the hospital by yourselves. Lois was in another country for work, Clark was in the Watchtower in a League meeting, your dad was there too. Leaving the 2nd best option: Alfred — the best would be Lois, then Alfred, Clark, Cass, and then you would have to discuss which one of your other family members would it be.

Since you were in Metropolis — again, no one knew. More privacy wink wink —, Jon flew you back to Gotham, and you both almost cheered when you realized you were completely home alone, except for Alfred, of course.

Poor Alfred knew something was up when you suddenly were back from your “shopping trip”, with messy hair and clothes, red face and Superboy looking almost sick. He released a long sigh.

— Mx/Miss/Master (Y/N). Young Mr. Kent… — You cleared your throat.

— Alfred… We need help…

After you explained everything, Alfred looked ten years older. He didn't comment on anything, but his face showed how unimpressed he was. He just gestured for you to follow him to the garage, took the keys and started driving.

— Let me warn Master Bruce while we are-

— NO! — You yelled, started. He looked at you through the rearview mirror disapprovingly.

— Should I remind you that he will see the hospital bill and go after the truth? — You bit your lip.

— No, I know that. Just… Can't we pay on cash? — You smiled at him hopefully and nervously, but it was more like a grimace. Alfred was silent. You groaned. — I will tell him okay! Tonight! — Jon’s eyes snapped to yours, wide. — Relax! You're not gonna die!

— Yeah, until Damian whips out a kryptonite sword… — He groaned, hiding his burning face in your neck. You huffed, now wasn't time for him to be adorable.

— He doesn't have a kryptonite sword. Dad didn't let him do it. He would have to build it first. That would give him enough time to calm down. — Jon looked at you, indignant. Alfred cleared his throat.

— While we're there, I can't make any promises that if your father asks, I will hide the truth. He will know. — You and your boyfriend groaned, rubbing your faces with your hands.

— Yes, Alfred, I know…

Two hours later, you were finally laid down in position for the doctor to begin the procedure. Since if wasn't anything serious, you were on the emergency and there was only a curtain separating you from the rest of the patients outside. Alfred was sitting just outside, waiting, while Jon was standing by your side, holding your hand, as if you were about to give birth. The doctor was amused by your story, and her jokes helped you calm down.

She searched around you for a few minutes, the instrument she was using inside you being a little uncomfortable. Jon was silently horrified when he saw, you were startled too, but maintained the composure.

— AHA! Found it! It was really deep inside, almost on your cervix! — When she pulled out the condom, you both let out a breath of relief you didn't know you were holding.

You quickly put your clothes on again, you and Jon chatting as everything seemed lighter, and then left.

What you didn't know was that when Bruce got home and you and Alfred weren't there, it made him call, finding out just that you were in the hospital. Alfred refused to say much more than reassure him that it wasn't urgent and that he would soon know, thus he didn't have to crazily drive all the way there. That didn't stop him from alerting all your siblings.

When you got home, your whole family was there.

— Jon?! What're you doing here? — Alfred kept a straight face. Wow, he really wasn't going to help.

— Hmmm... — Jon subtly and subconsciously hid behind you. You shifted from one foot to another. Damian got up with a threatening scowl. You just came from the hospital. With a kryptonian.

— Kent! If you hurt my sibling I will-

— I didn't! — Jon almost yelled, then covered his face with his hands.

— Then, what is happenning here? — Bruce got up with a raised brow, analyzing the situation.

You thought for a moment. You either told them now and made things easier, or you spent all the way to dinner with them bothering you to tell. You could take it, Jon couldn't.

You took a deep breath.

— JonandIwerehavingsexwhenthecondomdisappearedinsideofmewecouldn'tfinditanywheresoweaskedAlfredforhelpandwenttothehospital.

They blinked.

— … What?

You huffed.

— Jon and I were having sex, when the condom disappeared inside of me. We couldn't find it anywhere, so we asked Alfred for help and went to the hospital. — You said, slower this time, although uma lower, more abashed tone.

Silence.

— … But… It was stuck inside? Weren't you wet, though…? — Tim's analysis broke the silence.

— SEX?! — Dick and Jason exclaimed.

— YOU WERE HAVING SEX WITH MY SIBLING?!

— Knew it. — Cass smiled and nodded, proud of herself.

Bruce heaved a sigh and sat down again.

— I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU DID THIS! — Damian threw Tim's coffee mug in your direction and Jon zoomed in front of you. The mug broke. Jon had a sheepish expression.

— Tim, go grab kryptonite. — Jason ordered and got up, walking toward the hidden compartment in the shelf where he kept his guns. Dick held him back while Damian threw a flower vase at Jon.

— No! Don't do that, Tim. — Dick ordered back. Tim shook his head.

— I wasn't going to anyway… — He mumbled. Damian threw the center table.

— YOU ACTED BEHIND MY BACK! YOU TRAITOR! YOU- OUCH! PENNYWORTH STOP! — Alfred tutted, pinching his ear.

— I'm sure civilized conversations don't involve breaking the forniture. — Alfred shot a pointed look at Bruce. — Master Bruce! Say something! — Your dad just kept gazing at you and your boyfriend.

Cass sighed, stepping toward Bruce and sitting beside him.

— (Y/N)’s happy. He’s good. They're careful. — Bruce nodded, finally showing some reaction and looking pleased. Jason stopped struggling against Dick and looked at you.

— I don't care. I'm going to kill him. — Damian growled, starting to pace around the room in anger. Jon silently sighed in relief that Damian kept his distance by being on the other side of the room, the couch and the whole family serving as a barrier. You stepped forward.

— It's not casual. We've been together for almost two months now. — Everyone but Alfred and Cass gasped. Damian burned holes in Jon’s head with his eyes and your dad looked at you, masking his mix of emotions.

Cass tsk.

— So clueless. Many signs. — She shook her head.

— (Y/N), why didn't you tell us before? — Dick asked carefully, walking in your direction and stopping in front of you. Jon fiddled behind you. You shrugged.

— Didn't want to deal with you all while we were just starting things. Especially if it didn't work out.

— When were you planning to tell us? — You pouted.

— I don't know… In a month or two? You guys probably would find out by yourselves. — You shrugged.

— You've been sneaking out a lot… — Tim spoke up for the second time, catching everyone’s attention. He was fiddling with his laptop, likely doing his own investigation. The ones closest to Tim looked from the monitor to you again.

— When did you go to Metropolis?! — Jason exclaimed, indignantly.

— Hehe…

Damian growled.

— So that's why you've been ditching me?! — Damian pointed a finger at Jon, who scratched the back of his head.

— Surprise...? — Jon weakly sang the word.

Bruce cleared his throat.

— So that's why Clark’s been acting like he was happy he knew something I didn't… — He got up and pointed at you. — No more sneaking out. Ask permission before going anywhere. — You opened your mouth to protest, but he stopped you. — Either that or you're grounded. — You pursed your lips and nodded in defeat. — Now we will talk about birth control…

Comment, like and reblog 🥰

DC Taglist:

@wandalfnation @vadersassistant @h0rr0r-10ver-69 @hxsun4 @silverklaus @toast-on-dandelioms @bluewillbon

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supercorpkid · 1 month ago

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Found in Translation

Supercorp. Kara Danvers x Lena Luthor. Alex Danvers.

Word count: 2.8k

Lena doesn't know how to explain it. One day she’s being interviewed by Clark Kent and his cousin, and the next she’s Kara Danvers’ best friend.

It starts like these things usually do: harmless, warm. Shaped like something simple and fun. Coffee dates, movie nights, the occasional world-saving detour. Lena tells herself it’s just friendship. Tells herself she doesn’t notice the way Kara lights up when she laughs, or how often she reaches for Lena’s hand without thinking.

And then, it stops being harmless on a Tuesday.

Or maybe it had started the first time Kara smiled at her like that—wide and unguarded, the light catching on her cheekbones like the sun itself is paying attention. Maybe it had started long before that, when Lena first realized she wanted to be seen. Really seen. And somehow, impossibly, Kara always did.

They’re at game night. Alex is complaining about losing. Winn is pretending not to cheat. There’s laughter in the air, soft and golden, curling around the windows and cushions like smoke.

Lena’s half-listening, caught somewhere between the burn of bourbon in her glass and the curve of Kara’s mouth as she teases Alex.

She almost doesn't notice when Kara leans in, low and fond and a little breathless, and says under her breath, like it’s just for her:

“Zrhureiao.”

Kryptonese.

It lands like a meteor in Lena’s chest.

The syllables ripple through her—delicate, devastatingly beautiful. She knows what it means. God, she knows. Knows that it’s one of those tricky words that doesn’t translate cleanly, but always carries the same weight: attractive, lovely, captivating. The kind of word that leaves your mouth when you're not trying to be careful.

She hadn’t heard it in years.

But now Kara’s voice is curling around the word like it’s a secret, like it’s a spell.

Lena thinks about answering. The words are right there on her tongue: you think I’m beautiful? but she swallows them whole. Because of course she understands it, but she can’t explain to Kara Danvers why.

Not without telling her that she studied Kryptonese as a teenager. Not without explaining that once upon a time, she was trying to impress a brother who only cared about aliens if he could control them. That she buried herself in the language Lex found important, until she understood it better than most diplomats. That she kept studying even after it stopped being about Lex at all, because there was something about it. Something beautiful and sacred. Something that told her she would need it. Something more.

Now—now she knows exactly why she felt like that.

Lena’s breath stutters. The moment stretches too wide, too bright, like a spotlight turned inward. Kara leans in again, tucking a strand of Lena’s hair behind her ear like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like she hasn’t just upended everything.

Lena blinks. Swallows. Commands her heart to behave.

But it doesn’t.

It keeps whispering it back to her all throughout the games. On the ride in the back of the car. On the elevator ride up to her penthouse. In the hush of her bedroom when all the lights are off and sleep betrays her—and her heart does even worse. It hopes. It beats hope and love and Kara’s name so loud, she doesn’t know how to keep it a hushed secret anymore.

Zrhureiao.

Gorgeous.

Her fingers brush her own ear like maybe the sound is still caught there. Like maybe she could press it back into her skin and forget it ever happened.

But she can’t. She won’t.

Because Kara said it in her mother tongue.

And meant it like a vow, not something wrong.

And Lena understood it perfectly—like it was hers all along.

It happens again a few weeks later. During an argument this time, of all things.

Lena’s pacing in her lab, fury simmering beneath her skin like static before a storm. Kara made a last-minute decision on a joint mission—something reckless, heroic, infuriating. Something that could’ve gotten her killed.

Kara stands in the doorway, sheepish, trying to explain. But Lena won’t let her.

“You didn’t tell me you were going to do that,” she snaps. “You just flew off like—like you didn’t think I’d be able to handle it!”

“I trusted you to—”

“No,” Lena cuts her off. “You didn’t trust me, Kara. You protected me. Like I’m some fragile piece of glass you can keep on a shelf and hope I never crack. I'm not a damsel in distress!”

Kara’s eyes widen. She steps forward, hands raised in surrender—open palms and soft breaths, always trying to deescalate what she doesn’t understand.

“Lena—”

“No,” Lena says again, sharper this time. “You don’t get to ‘Lena’ your way out of this. You don’t get to look at me like that and expect it to just... disappear.”

But Kara does look at her like that. Like Lena is the axis the universe turns around. Like she’s the only truth left in a world full of chaos. And then, softly, barely more than breath:

“Ta- rrip zrhureiao rrem rrip doshai?”

Lena freezes.

She knows that tone. Knows the weight of those syllables like they were stitched into her ribcage. She wishes she didn’t know what it meant. Wishes Kara didn’t say it like it hurt to hold it in.

Why are you so beautiful when you're mad?

The anger vanishes—like breath on glass. Like it was never real at all.

Lena opens her mouth, then closes it. Looks away before Kara can see what’s breaking loose across her face.

She clears her throat, soft and sharp. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Kara blinks, confused—genuinely. Like she didn’t even notice the way the words escaped her. Like Kryptonese is just muscle memory now, leaking truth where silence used to be.

Lena shakes her head. “Forget it.”

But Lena, herself, doesn’t forget. She can’t.

Because Kara keeps doing this—speaking in Kryptonese like it’s safer than English. Like it’s a secret place she can feel everything she’s not ready to admit. A language where nothing is casual, where every word is laced with truth.

And Lena… Lena keeps understanding. Keeps translating Kara’s tenderness like scripture. Keeps collecting these slips like sacred footnotes in their history together. Keeps falling a little more, every time.

It’s late. The kind of late that softens the world, that stretches shadows across the walls and melts time into something unmeasurable. A kind of late where it feels like the night might stretch on forever, and Lena wouldn’t mind if it did. Not from where she is standing.

They’re curled together on Kara’s couch, draped in a blanket that clings like the last trace of a dream: light as air, heavy as comfort. The TV flickers with some old rom-com neither of them is really watching, its dialogue a distant hum against the quiet ache of something unspoken.

Lena’s head rests against Kara’s shoulder, her legs tangled in Kara’s like ivy curling toward sunlight.

There’s peace here—but it’s the dangerous kind. The kind that settles in your chest too gently, makes you forget how fragile it is. A stillness that feels earned and borrowed all at once, like the universe is holding its breath, just waiting to take it back.

Lena tells herself not to notice. Not to register how perfectly they fit—how easily Kara’s hand could find hers if it reached, how natural this could all feel if she let it. Like puzzle pieces.

She glances at the clock. A breath drawn in quiet defiance of what comes next. A slow, reluctant untangling.

“I should go,” she murmurs. Her voice is steady, even if everything inside her bends around the words.

Kara doesn’t move. Doesn’t pause the movie. Doesn’t ask her to stay.

Instead, she whispers. Soft. Unarmored. The words barely more than a breath, so fragile they might splinter in the air:

“Khuhp zhind ao rrip zhadif awuhkh vagem.”

Lena freezes.

The syllables roll over her like a tide, salt-rich and moon-drawn, ancient and aching. A language that should feel foreign but lands instead like home. Like something buried under her ribs, waiting to be spoken back into existence.

She doesn’t have to ask. She knows. She always knows. I wish you’d never leave again.

And something in her breaks. Quietly. Cleanly.

It isn’t fair, the way Kara says these things.

Like she doesn’t understand the gravity of them. Like she doesn’t know they could crush Lena just by existing. Like her words aren’t made of stardust and glass and every wish Lena ever folded small enough to hide.

She could answer. Could let it spill.

But the reply burns too deep. And if she opens her mouth now, everything will come rushing out—untamed, untranslatable. It would sound too much like love.

So she laughs. Or something like it. Something thin, breakable, and kind.

“You’re getting sleepy,” She shifts back just enough to let the cold seep in. A punishment. A shield.

Kara blinks slowly, still somewhere between dream and meaning. “Mm. Yeah.”

Lena rises.

She draws the blanket tighter around Kara’s shoulders, tucking her in like a farewell. Like a promise she wishes she were brave enough to make. Her fingers linger longer than they should, then pull away.

She reaches for her coat without looking back.

“Goodnight, Kara.”

She doesn’t see Kara’s eyes trailing after her like she’s the last light in the room. Doesn’t hear the soft, stunned echo that follows her like a ghost.

“Goodnight, baby.”

But she carries the Kryptonian all the way home. Feels it settle into her skin like stardust. Like a prayer. Like a wish Kara never meant to speak aloud—and Lena can’t stop hearing it, replaying it in her mind like music written just for her.

Like maybe, in another life, she would’ve stayed.

They’re somewhere deep underground, far from the city—old stone, slick with moss, wires cutting across ancient architecture like veins through skin. Kara’s hovering just a few inches off the ground, too impatient to walk. Lena’s beside her, shoulder brushing Kara’s tights when she leans to examine the wall. And Alex is a bit ahead with the flashlight, casting long shadows that stretch like fingers down the corridor.

“Okay,” Alex says, voice echoing. “This one’s got some alien script—Kryptonian, I think? What does this mean?”

Lena doesn’t look at Kara. She doesn’t need to. The words are already burned into her mind. She’s read them before—on dusty pages in old Luthor archives, her fingers trembling, heart young and foolish and already looking for something that might belong to her.

But Kara steps closer to the inscription anyway, her voice low. “Lao zrhureiao divi khuhp skulir kuhs.’”

Lena doesn’t mean to say it. Doesn't mean to make choir to Kara's voice already translating out loud. But it falls out of her like a breath: “The beloved one is a light I can’t look away from.”

Silence.

So sharp, it feels like the air has been sucked out of the entire Earth.

Even Alex just blinks, stunned, slowly turning toward them. “Wait. What the hell did you say?”

But Kara’s already turned. She’s looking at Lena like the words were a key. And now the door’s opened and she’s seeing the whole of her.

“You speak Kryptonese?” Kara asks.

It should sound accusatory. It doesn’t. It sounds... hurt.

Lena swallows. Her mouth feels full of sand. “Um, yeah, sorta.”

Kara doesn’t look away. Her voice goes softer, more dangerous, “Since when?”

Lena exhales. “Since I was sixteen. Lex was obsessed with Superman. And I—” She tries to smile, but it feels brittle. “I wanted something to connect… Wanted him to need me.”

Kara’s eyes narrow, but not in anger. She’s thinking. Tracing things back. Adding it all up.

“How many times?” Kara asks. Her voice is too soft to be angry, too confused not to tremble. “How many times have you understood me when I thought you couldn’t?”

Lena wants to lie. God, she wants to. But she’s tired. Tired of silence. Tired of gathering Kara’s love like contraband—like something precious and forbidden.

“All of them.” she says. “All of, um, your secret confessions.”

Kara flinches. “Like what?”

Lena takes a step back. Her eyes flick toward Alex, searching for escape, for delay—but Alex is already moving. She’s seen enough. Felt the shape of what’s coming. And like someone sensing a storm, she quietly slips out of the room.

No more excuses. No more time.

Lena breathes. And then she answers, her voice barely there—small and yet impossibly brave in the quiet Kara leaves for her.

“Like… things I couldn’t bear to lose.”

Kara doesn’t press. She just watches her, listens like every part of her is tuned to Lena’s frequency. Like the silence is sacred now.

And Lena, against all her instincts, lets herself stay in it.

“Like the first time you called me beautiful,” she says. “You looked right at me when you said it. But you chose another language so I wouldn’t know…”

Her voice falters, like the memory still stings—soft and glowing, but edged with old hurt.

“You said it like it slipped out. Like you couldn't stop it even if you wanted. And I understood every word.”

Kara’s lips part, like she’s about to speak—but Lena keeps going.

“Or the night you said, ‘I wish you’d never leave,’ when I said I was going home.”

Kara’s shoulders tense. Her expression cracks.

“I stayed awake all night just to keep it, as if it would disappear if I slept.”

The words hang in the air between them. Fragile. Shining. Too much.

Kara steps forward. Slowly. Like Lena might vanish into the walls if she moves too fast.

“You knew,” Kara says, her voice frayed at the edges. “All this time. And you never said anything.”

Lena’s reply is barely more than a breath, still sounds too loud in this barren room. “If I told you… you would’ve stopped.”

Kara is close now. Close enough that Lena can feel the heat of her. Close enough to shatter her completely.

Lena’s eyes fall shut. She’s not ready for this—for the shape of truth spoken out loud. She’s spent too long hiding in the margins, surviving on shadows and half-lit moments, on words never meant to survive the air between them.

“I wouldn’t…” Kara’s voice falters, unsteady as a heartbeat in freefall. She inhales. Holds it. Tries again. “I won’t.”

Lena opens her eyes like the act itself might crack the world open. And Kara is looking at her the way sunlight looks at stained glass—desperate to get through, to touch something it was never meant to hold.

“I will never stop saying it,” Kara whispers.

Her hand rises slowly, reverently. And when she cups Lena’s face, it’s not a touch. It’s a vow.

Lena leans in just enough to say yes. Just enough to answer without words. Because Kara’s hand is trembling—not from fear, but from the weight of what comes next. From the sheer meaning of it.

And somehow, the stillness between them feels deafening. Like something holy. Like souls bleeding together. Like love.

Kara steps closer, and their foreheads meet—soft and sure. A contact so gentle it feels like a prayer.

“I meant every word,” Kara says, voice low and certain. “Even when I thought you couldn’t understand me.”

“I know,” Lena breathes. “I know.”

There’s nothing else left to translate.

Kara tilts her head and kisses her like a question.

There’s nothing rushed about it—no fevered urgency, no desperate pull. Just warmth. Just truth. Just the gravity between them finally given permission to exist.

Lena exhales into it, and it sounds like release. Like surrendering to something that had always been inevitable. Kara's hand drifts to the nape of Lena’s neck, fingers curling softly on her hair. The other rests against her waist, grounding her, because she can’t quite believe this is real and won't let the universe take it back.

The kiss deepens and it feels as if they're learning a secret language neither of them had dared to speak before. It’s soft, but it burns. And Lena can feel every unspoken word between them written into it: I want you. I see you. I love you.

When they finally break apart, it’s only just. Kara stays close, breath brushing over Lena’s cheek like a touch.

Then, in a whisper spun of stars and honesty, “Khap zhao rrip.”

Lena stills. Her eyes flutter open.

I love you.

There’s no mistaking it. No soft translation. No ambiguity.

And this time Lena doesn’t stay silent.

Her voice is hoarse with something holy when she answers.

The words don’t stumble—they rise. From the part of her that has always known how to speak these languages: Kryptonese and love. The part of her that has been waiting.

“Khap zhao rrip, zrhueiao.”

Her mother tongue coming out of Lena's tongue feels like a key turning in the lock of the universe. Kara’s breath catches. Her eyes shimmer like something celestial.

And when they kiss again, it’s no longer a question. It’s a promise.

#supergirl #kara danvers #lena luthor #supergirl fanfiction #supercorp #alex danvers #supergirl imagine #kara x lena

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supermenz · 6 months ago

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one

summary: One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do; two can be as bad as one, it's the loneliest number since the number one. Or: you're two years old when you lose your parents. Your brother, a kid himself, is unable to give you the love you deserve, and you end up at twenty being as burn out as only a Gotham University student can be. So, what do you do? Change scenery, of course.

pairing(s): clark kent x wayne!reader, bruce wayne x sister!reader, eventual platonic batfam x reader (no use of y/n)

warnings: genius kid trope, kinda doomed siblings, language, there are reference to what happens in "the batman" but there will be a merge of both comics and films, written with david!superman in mind cuz he's my pookie 😞, bruce is so pathetic i love him sm

word count: 2.2k

author's note: my first ever fanfic for the dc universe!! constructive criticism is welcomed as english is not my first language,

next | series masterlist

Gotham has left you feeling more claustrophobic in the last few months than it did all your life.

Maybe it’s because you’re seeing your brother slip into his work — aka beating criminals in the night as a hobby — more and more, or maybe it’s just your brain playing tricks on you. It’s probably the latter.

You’ve never been good with emotions — it comes with being a Wayne, and surely, having your parents die before you were three didn’t help your situation. Bruce spending most of your childhood abroad with barely any contact with you also probably didn’t help either.

“But I’m here now,” he had said once, “Am I not?”

He is, but even if you love him with all your heart, sometimes you think that you’re more like colleagues rather than siblings. Your bond is strained, with him being so closed-off and spending most of his free time cosplaying as a bat, and you having just entered your twenties, trying to get your second degree in biology after an early graduation and an even earlier PhD in engineering. And since his first big case four years ago, neither of you has been the same.

Your relationship has never been easy. The flood and the Riddler’s case basically forced you to trauma bond over what you both had experienced, as surely no therapist would’ve wanted to hear about all the horrors that you two experienced, even for all the money in the world. Besides, it’s not like Bruce could just enter a therapist’s office and tell them that he’s the fucking Batman.

As of now, you tend to have your… ups and downs. Both prefer to just hide behind paperwork, projects, cases or research rather than just talk some things out. Because yes, Bruce’s your brother, but that doesn’t mean he’s easy to love. There are some days where he seems to be barely able to talk to you, others where you know he just wants to scream at you for whatever reason, others where… others where you think he might just crumble at your feet and start crying.

You don’t have a lot in common. Maybe that’s why he manages to stay in Gotham even after all that’s happened — combined with the fact that he’s spent ten years or so abroad. Maybe you need that, too.

“I’m thinking of moving out,” you tell him during one of your rare dinners together. You have already talked about your plan to Alfred, who has shown his support towards the idea and urged you to get out of Gotham as soon as you could, but you also wanted to tell Bruce — just to be honest with him.

Yes, he left you to study abroad all those years ago without any kind of goodbye or anything, but you have no intention of leaving him behind like he did to you — you may be grown adults now, but that doesn’t mean that being left behind doesn’t exist anymore. You doubt Bruce would ever feel left behind by you, of all people, but still. “Found a faculty in Metropolis that will be able to transfer all my credits and studies and a nice flat downtown near the Wayne Enterprises’ site there. I think I need a breath of fresh air– I need to go somewhere where the sun actually shines and not everyone has hidden agendas.”

You’ve heard good things about Metropolis, and you think that the Martha Wayne Foundation could be expanded a bit more — somewhere far from Gotham, where surely there are other orphanages, other people in need that could use some help. “I could handle Wayne Enterprise’s gestion and settle our matters there while continuing my studies in a more… calm environment.” calm is a big word for a metropolitan city as big and populated as Metropolis, but every city is calm in contrast to Gotham.

Your brother doesn’t say anything. He just stares at you, wide-eyed, fork still raised to eat the potatoes Alfred cooked, his face blank. Is he having a heart attack? You didn’t think that you moving out would’ve been such horrendous news for him. Yes, even if you are not that close he’s still very protective, but he went to live abroad at ten. You’re twenty and you’re just… moving to Delaware. It’s not like you’re going to the fucking Himalaya mountains as he did.

(Meanwhile, Bruce is spiraling. He wonders when the hell did his little sister grow up, how it can be that she isn’t the little girl he used to sway around anymore, and why would she ever want to move out. Is it because of him? Did something happen?

Isn’t Metropolis in another state? Is he so tremendous that you have to move states in hopes to forget about him? Is he too overbearing? He thought he had always given you enough space to do your own thing–)

Instead of saying all of the things he’s thinking, he tries to muster up a smile, even if it comes out as a grimace. “Alright.”

He nearly jumps out of his seat when you beam at him — is he really that obnoxious that you can’t wait to move out and have him out of your life? “Oh, I’m happy that you’re taking it well! I was afraid you’d freak out.” you get up from your seat and move over to hug him, and he chuckles nervously. “Why would I? You’re an adult, you can do what you want.”

(What do you mean?!, his conscience screams in his head, She isn’t even twelve! Just yesterday she was talking about going to the homecoming dance with her friends–

But time has passed, and even if Bruce feels that it was particularly hard on him, he didn’t think it’d affect you too, somehow. It’s weird acknowledging something’s — someone’s — changes in the years in… so little. He had gotten so used to you being his little sister that he didn’t even think about you becoming a full on woman. He still remembers the pink bundle of blankets your parents had given him that day at the hospital, telling him to be careful with her, she’s your little sister.

When have you grown this much? Where did the time go? He swears it was just yesterday when you were admitted to Gotham University.)

“But… a flat? Are you sure you’ll be comfortable there? It’s not exactly as big as a manor.”

You avoid his gaze, scratching the back of your head. “Yeah, about that…”

He raises an eyebrow, “Let me guess, you bought the whole building?”

You snap your fingers, “They don’t call you the greatest detective for nothing!” you sit back down, cutting the meat on your plate, “I plan on making the floors I won’t live in into a laboratory of sort– almost like the Batcave, y’know, so I can continue working on the models I designed undisturbed.”

When Bruce had started his crusade as Batman, you had just gotten your bachelor’s degree in engineering, and were working on your master’s degree. You had basically given him the head-start, creating the software of the Batcomputer (or of the computer, as he calls it), designed and adapted a sport’s car to the Batmobile (just call it the car, Bruce always insists) and basically modified and created every single one of the gadgets and systems he uses.

You just hope he won’t let the Batcomputer get hacked as soon as you land in Metropolis — you spent weeks programming her and years perfecting her system. You spent so much time on her, she might as well be your firstborn by now.

“I’ll always be a call away,” you murmur when your brother’s eyes get a little dazy, unfocused– like he’s in another world, always thinking about the worst that could happen. “You know that, right?”

Bruce blinks. “Yeah. Yeah, I– I know that.”

(He isn't sure about that.)

You pat his hand, mustering a smile. "Maybe you should take a break, too. Why don't you book a vacation in, let's say... the Bahamas? Just to get a bit tanned and remember what the sun actually looks like."

He shakes his head. "Can't. Batman doesn't go on vacation."

You raise an eyebrow, sighing in defeat. "Well, I'm sure the GCPD could handle Gotham for a few days, but do as you like."

Your arrival in Metropolis is, of course, followed by an unhinged swarm of journalists and press that surround you as soon as you land.

You can already see the headlines — THE PRINCESS OF GOTHAM NOW IN METROPOLIS or some other corny predictable shit like that — as they shove their cameras in your face, screaming and trying to grab you, as your bodyguards try to contain them. You're much calmer than they are, having already endured years and years of invasive journalists.

“Miss Wayne, would you care to tell us the reason for this abrupt change in scenery?”

“Has your move got anything to do with your relationship with your brother?”

“Miss Wayne, look here! A smile for the front page–”

“Miss Wayne, why Metropolis, of all places?”

“Miss Wayne, a word for the Daily Planet?”

The guy for the Daily Planet catches your attention– he seems far too nice and isn’t elbowing anyone; he must be either new at the job or is too nice for it. He’s got a mop of curly, black hair atop his head, thick glasses perched on his nose, baby blue eyes behind them. His posture is a little crooked — he’s getting squeezed by reporters on both of his sides — but, even as disheveled as he is, you notice a thing.

Ohh, he’s pretty. Like, jaw-dropping pretty, the kind of pretty that makes you want to bite his cheek and never let go for the rest of your life.

You stop in your tracks, lifting your sunglasses to your head, bodyguards panicking at the swarm of journalists that suddenly all point to one direction; you reach for the pocket of your jeans and take out a business card that you pat on the pretty reporter’s chest. “Another time, pretty boy,” you promise as he takes the card, his fingers brushing yours, the other journalists speechless around you. “I’m kinda busy right now.”

You don’t stay long enough to see him blush and hold the business card tight in his palm so that the other reporters don’t snatch it out of his grip — the bodyguards urge you forward, towards the SUV with obscured windows that is waiting for you right in front of the arrivals’ exit of the airport. One of them opens the door for you, and you don’t hesitate to get inside, the car speeding off as soon as everyone’s inside.

“Never seen anything like this,” one of the men mutters.

You shrug, “I’ve had worse.”

The ride to your building is short, mostly because it’s late in the evening and there aren’t many people still around. You leave a generous tip to both the bodyguards and the driver, thanking them but assuring them that you can walk alone the thirty steps that separate you from the entrance to what’ll be your home for the foreseeable future. They help you take out your trolley and duffle bag, which you swing over your shoulder right after taking the keys of the building out.

You open the front door, carefully closing it behind you, taking the elevator right in front of it. You press the number thirty out of thirty-four, which turns green with a ding, and wait for the doors to open back up. And once they do, you’re not disappointed.

The loft is arranged just like how you asked the movers to — it would’ve been hard not to, as you sent them the 3D interior design plan you had made, but still. You’ve been raised with the idea that if you want something done well, you have to do it yourself, so you’re pretty happy about how it turned out.

Still, something’s missing.

You check around the loft for any pieces of missing furniture or something like that, not finding anything. You even go back to the 3D model to make sure that everything got here safe and sound, only to find that yes, everything is in the colour you ordered and exactly in the place you asked for it to be.

You sit on the U-shaped couch that sits right in front of the giant windows that let on the skyline of Metropolis, eyebrows knit in deep thought. The house is nice — for fuck’s sake, you bought a whole building just for you and your projects — but it’s weird not having anyone else around. There’s no Alfred to welcome you, no half-asleep Bruce roaming without an idea of where he is, no squeaking and creaking of the floor when you walk.

You sigh. “Maybe I should get a cat.”

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miharuki · 3 months ago

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𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐖𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

escapes to revelations that in the end resulted in a kiss

TW: none so far, making out, slight sexual innuendo but nothing TOO explicit, you're slow, justice league animated series

English is not my first language!

It had been a while—actually, even before the League was formed—but Wally, the current Flash, had always had a crush on you. On your hero form, to be specific. And not just that—he always dreamed of maybe taking things further, even as civilians. But while the Flash might have flirt, he lacked the courage to talk to you. He stuttered and couldn’t flirt properly without sounding like a total goof. He had already given up. You were way out of his league. Too closed off. He even thought maybe you and Batman were competing to see who could be the coldest.

Poor Wally. Everyone in the League knew about his crush—it was painfully obvious. Sadly, you never noticed, and no one ever told you. Flash begged them—literally on his knees—not to say a word. It was almost pathetic. He never thought he had a chance... except for that night.

You’d just escaped from the Thanagarian ship—Hawkgirl’s species. You all took shelter in a closed-down store. From the sound of wings flapping and voices nearby, there were several patrolling above the area. The only way to go unnoticed was to remove your suits—your heroic identities—and go civilian. Wally, of course, was incredibly curious to see what you looked like as a civilian, but also a bit scared. Scared that you might not like what was under his mask.

“Whoa, wait a sec—what about secret identities?! I trust you guys, but I don’t know if I’m—” the boy was cut off as Batman pointed at his chest.

“Wally West. Clark Kent. Bruce Wayne.”

“Show-off,” Wally muttered as he removed his mask, now staring at the tall man’s face—Bruce Wayne. Wonder Woman ran a hand through Wally’s hair, giving him a bit more confidence, but he was still nervous. When he turned to look at you, he was prepared to see disgust or disinterest… but you didn’t react at all. Instead, you also removed your mask (or, if you’re like J’onn, changed form, etc.), revealing your civilian identity.

“W-wait! [Your Name]?! As in [Your Full Name]?!”

You looked confused. Was your identity really more shocking than Batman’s?

“I thought you'd react like that to Bruce,” you commented as you picked up the clothes Diana had given you.

At that moment, Wally didn’t know what to say. Sure, it was shocking that Bruce Wayne was Batman—but it made sense with the whole billionaire thing. But you? He’d seen you. On magazine covers. He tried to say something, but Bruce threw a change of clothes at him.

With everyone now in civilian attire, the team agreed to regroup at Bruce’s house in Gotham. They split into pairs and trios, but as soon as one of the Thanagarians spotted you, you didn’t even have time to react—Wally scooped you up and bolted. With your arms around his neck, you looked back to see everything fading behind you.

Once he finally stopped, he set you down—but before either of you could say a word, you grabbed him and pulled him into a nearby alley as you noticed more Thanagarians approaching.

“Sorry about this,” you said, pushing him against the wall. He didn’t understand at first, but the moment he heard voices, it clicked.

He just didn’t expect it to go that far.

You lifted your leg and guided his hand to hold it, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Sorry for wha—”

He was cut off as you kissed him.

He could swear his heart was racing. This was a dream come true. It was supposed to be quick—but the hawk people just had to hang around the street, searching. At that point, Wally didn’t really care. In fact, he might even be grateful.

His hand on your waist squeezed slightly, pulling your bodies closer. The one on your thigh hesitated, wanting to go further. Your lips were divine to him—the color, the softness, the taste. Your mouth too. He was getting addicted. He didn’t want to stop. God, you were divine. If this was just a sample, he couldn’t even imagine the rest. God, he wanted you.

The kiss grew more serious—turning into full-on making out. Your hands ran through his hair, and you could swear you heard a moan from him. When your breath gave out, you pulled away. But as Wally leaned in for more, he didn’t expect you to go for his neck. He just prayed he wouldn’t get hard—that would be way too embarrassing. His body stiffened even more when a Thanagarian walked into the alley, then recoiled with disgust.

“Ugh, filthy humans. Nothing here!”

With that, the alien flew off. Once the coast was clear, you pulled away from the boy.

“Sorry about that.”

“Relax. I liked it. A lot, babe.”

You turned to the street and saw it was empty. Fixing your clothes, you said, “They’re gone. Let’s go.”

Wally was still dazed, but he let you lead him. He hoped that after tonight, maybe he could ask you out.

Later, in the Batcave, as you were discussing with the others, John—Green Lantern—looked at Wally and whispered,

“Looks like someone had fun.”

Wally looked at him, confused, until John pointed to his neck. When the redhead touched his own, his fingers came back stained with your lipstick. He smiled, blushing.

Yeah… he was definitely going to ask you out. Maybe he even had a chance to kiss you again.

God, you were divine—both as a civilian and as a heroine.

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gothamhappiness · 10 months ago

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You are my heaven (Bruce Wayne x f!reader) Part 2

It was supposed to be a little imagine of a dark and lonely Bruce Wayne switching place with another Bruce Wayne from a parallal universe, but I wrote more than I thought. It'll be into 2 parts, except if you ask for more. <3

You can find part 1 of this here.

Warnings: no proof reading, language, mention of blood and killing, angst/comfort

He met you up at the Italian restaurant and loved to place a hand on the small of your back. He loved even more how you instinctively leaned into his touch and side. He really couldn't go back to his world. This place was heaven, and he was going to take such good care of his new people.

He listened to everything you said and actually answered. He never checked on his phone and didn't show any sign of being in the rush. You noticed how relaxed he seemed. Just before the dessert, he even reached for your hand and gently kissed it. He openly flirted with you and did his best to make you laugh. It was his favourite sound, with your moans of pleasure.

"You're in a good mood today," You finally commented. "You even took the time to talk to the kids this morning. And not to order them stuff about patrol, " You whispered

It hit Bruce. Of course, the "kids" were the vigilantes he saw working with Batman. He couldn't imagine how amazing it must be to work with other people. To be the mentor of those people, too. Their leader. Maybe even their father? They were all so young, they clearly needed someone to be there for them. And you cared for them, like a mother.

"I... Last night was a little bit complicated, and I realise how lucky I am, that’s all," Bruce replied, hoping you might know something

"Yes, Dick and Cass told me you got attacked by that mad scientist and that he threw at you some weird potion. Luckily, nothing happened. You were a little bit dizzy when you came back home, and you instantly went to bed. I helped you undress, and you fell asleep on me, " You hummed. "Anyway, I'm happy if things…” You trailed off

“If things?” Bruce tried to get you to finish your sentence

“Could... be better, " You admitted and looked away

Bruce was speechless for a few moments. Were you saying that the Bruce of this world neglected his people? His own people? You? He fucking didn't deserve any of this then. It was making things so easy, no guilt, no mercy.

"What do you mean, love?" He asked with a tilt of the head. You still refused to meet his eyes as you answered:

"Well... You haven't been around a lot lately. I can't even remember the last time we had lunch together. And you... you aren't the nicest with the children... Jason came to see me for comfort after another argument with you. Steph had a nap with me on the couch after you pushed her too much during training..." You explained.

You didn't want to ruin the moment, but you weren't too sure when you would be able to tell him about all of this. For once, he seemed open to the discussion and wasn’t distracted with his work. However, his silence worried you a little bit. Actually, Bruce was angry. It was obvious that the Bruce of this universe didn't know his luck. He was going to be better - oh, so much better - than him. It was a promise. He kissed your hand again

"I'm so sorry. I'll do better. With everyone." He told you, and you finally looked at him, astonished. You had expected some justifications or denials, not this.

"I'm so... relieved. Maybe you could have a little talk with all the kids? And I know that your relationships with the members of the Justice League were getting tense, too. We haven't invited the Kents at home in so long." You babbled.

Bruce could tell how much you cared about the family and that you decided to push your luck. You wanted your children to be happy, and you wished for Bruce to do better with his friends as well. You were so caring. Bruce was falling even deeper in love with you, and he didn’t think that was possible.

"I will. I promise. What about us?" He asked.

Of course, he was going to do his best for all those people he didn't know yet, but what he wanted the most was to be a good husband to you. He had fantasied about your life together so badly, and now that it was happening, it needed to be perfect.

You didn't reply right away, trying to quickly think.

"What about us?" You finally said

"I haven't been the best to you either," Bruce guessed

"You saw the divorce papers I asked from our lawyer, didn't you?" You internally cursed yourself. You should have been better

Bruce silently panicked but didn't show anything. Oh the fucker was really ruining everything. He needed to make you forget about this divorce. You were finally his wife, he wasn't going to lose you or let you go. You were his, like he belonged body and soul to you.

"Love,..." He started, but you cut him off

"I was just thinking about it, but I... I don't want to leave the family. It was just in case things went downhill, " You explained, a little bit concerned of what the man was thinking

"It won't," He reassuringly smiled at you

"What?"

"It won't go downhill. I'll do anything you all need from me. I'm so lucky to have all of you in my life. I can't take this luck for granted. I'll do better, " He promised

You weren't too sure Bruce wasn't lying, but you wanted to believe him so badly.

Bruce found a folder with information on all the people in Bruce's life on the batcomputer, and he was grateful for that. It allowed him to know about his history with everyone and to act on consequences. He did talk to everyone and tried to make things better. He apologised and offered his help. He took some time for everyone. He showed he was eager to make an effort. He showed he wanted everyone to be happy around him. He showed he was there for his people.

He also found the mad scientist.

He interrogated him in Arkham Asylum. The man hadn't thought a new Batman would come. He just thought it would send the Dark Knight into another world, and that was it. Bruce asked if there was a way to get the real Bruce back. The mad scientist refused to answer at first before admitting that yes, there was. After all, portals could go both ways. Bruce went to the scientist's repair and destroyed everything before paying hitmen to kill the man. There was no way he would come back to Hell. No way. He would even kill the former Bruce himself if he had to.

The night he came back from the scientist’s repair, he was his most charming self to you, bringing you a beautiful necklace full of diamonds. As he helped you put it on, he complimented you and kissed your skin. He seduced you all night.

In the bath with you, his hands never left your skin. He gently washed your body and hair. He tenderly massaged cream onto you. He covered you in kisses until you would giggle under his nonstop attention. You truly hoped Bruce would keep acting like that because you were falling back in love with him. Hard. You were happy, and you clearly didn't want to get a divorce anymore.

A few days later, you and the children had lunch all together. Without Bruce.

You all decided that a conversation was a necessity because “what was going on with the man for fuck's sake?”. It was impossible he changed that much in such a short period of time. It was obvious something happened with the mad scientist. But weirdly enough, he was now dead and his work was destroyed...

"It's not Bruce," Tim finally said

"What do you mean?" You frowned

"It's not the Bruce we knew. From what I've been able to find, the scientist was studying portals through different parallel universe" Tim added

"You're saying that... He switched of Bruces from two different worlds?" You asked

"I think it's what happened, yes." Tim nodded, and you all stayed silent for a little while

"What do we do?" Duke asked

"This Bruce is nicer," Jason commented

"And more caring," Stephanie added

"But it is not our father." Damian frowned

"But he is acting like one..." Dick replied

"And like a husband." Cass added "His body language... He is so in love with you, Y/N… Like he would do anything for you."

"I... I know.” You paused “Maybe we all deserve some happiness"

“Are you saying we should pretend we don’t know anything? Barbara asked “It’s true that the Bruce we had was… challenging, but he all saved us. And kinda took care of us. We don’t know what this man will do in the long run” she added, and you were forced to agree with her

“Let me talk to him” You offered, and everyone agreed.

You weren’t too sure when it would be the right moment to speak with your new husband about the situation.

One evening, as you were snuggled up in his embrace, you felt like it was the right time. It was only the two of you, and the day has been quite good for Bruce, so he was relaxed. You kissed his collarbone to bring his attention back to you. He instantly put his book down to look at you.

"Yes, love?" He hummed

“Who are you?” You whispered with a bite of your bottom lip

“What? You know who am I” Bruce pretended to laugh it off, but he tensed a little bit

“You’re different. The kids are little detectives, and they think you are coming from a parallel universe. And… I can believe that” You explained

“Why?”

“Because my husband liked me, but never worshipped me like a divinity of love” You softly smiled

“Well, he should have” Bruce groaned

“So, this is true, right? You came from another universe. And the man I married is there, instead of you?” You asked

Bruce cupped your face and leaned his forehead against yours. He had been the happiest man in the world the past few weeks. He finally had everything he ever wanted and needed. He would sell his soul in exchange for keeping this life. He was terrified you would cast him away.

“He didn’t deserve you. Any of you. I guess he’s there, yes, but I don’t really know. And I don’t care. I want to stay here. Haven’t I been good to you? Don’t you want to keep me? Haven’t I been better than he was?” He pleaded.

You heard the fear and despair in his voice.

“Your world isn’t as nice as here then?” You asked

“My Alfred died when I turned 18, so I never had the time to adopt any of the children. I did my best as Batman and CEO of Wayne Enterprises, but I’m alone and lonely. Maybe I fucked up too, because my life is a just a mess. I don’t know, but this is Heaven and my world is Hell.”

“We’re not married either?” You wondered

“I’m too much of a loser to interest you. No matter how madly in love I am with you. No matter how much I’ve always wanted to worship you. I’m so happy to finally have you as my wife. I’ll always cherish you.” He admitted and promised

You stayed silent, not knowing what to do anymore. This place was clearly a fresh and happy start for the man in front of you. But what about the Bruce Wayne of this world? Wasn’t it a cruel punishment to leave him in such a lonely place? At the same time, you weren’t sure the man you married would even take care of you like you now were. And you would miss that very much. The children deserved a better father, too. Jason actually started to hang out with this new Bruce. And now Jason knew it wasn’t the same man who betrayed him. Their relationship would be even better. There were so many advantages...

“Keep me” The man begged you “I’ll do anything you want” He whispered again

“I… do want you to stay. But I feel awful knowing he is in your world. Alone.” You admitted

“I can make you forget about him” Bruce offered before kissing you, his thoughts on ways to make everyone forget about the “real” Bruce Wayne.

He was going to stay in Heaven, no matter the price, no matter the sacrifice, no matter what. You kissed him back before gently pushing him away.

“What if he comes back?” You asked “Would you hurt him?” You continued

Bruce didn’t answer, so you knew he would kill him without hesitation. He was a love, attention, and touch starved man. He knew what it was to be so broken that nothing could work out.

“Barbara and Damian… They need some convincing to not find a way and save the Bruce we knew. I still feel bad but… if I loved him, I know I’ve never felt for him what I’m feeling for you” You whispered

Bruce’s eyes lit up. Being loved by you because he was Bruce Wayne was a thing, but being loved by you because of who he was was so much better. He didn’t know what to say, so he deeply kissed you over and over again.

“Love you, love you so much. You’ll be happy with me. Everyone will be happy with me.” He whispered in between kisses

“You promise?” You breathlessly asked

“I promise, my love”

Part 3

Taglist for all my work <3

@blublock404

Taglist for this series <3

@bat1212

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x s/o #batfam x reader #batfam x y/n #batman x reader #batman x you #jason todd #duke thomas #damian wayne #cassandra cain #dick grayson #barbara gordon #tim drake #stephanie brown #alfred pennyworth

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confessedlyfannish · 2 years ago

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DP x DC Writing Prompt #9

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I lied," the man says lightly.

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

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

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

"Jon--"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I can finally eat some decent barbecue again!"

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

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

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

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

"Jon," The man says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You can't."

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

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

"I wouldn't,"

"You belong with your family,"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The others are silent.

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

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

This man will reach through dimensions and kill him.

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

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

You will say nothing.

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

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

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

Part Two

#dp x dc #dp x dc au #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc crossover #danny phantom #dpxdc #superman #superboy #jonathan kent #jonathan samuel kent #my writing

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agentstarkid · 4 months ago

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MORE THAN WORDS ✦ ROY KENT

✦ SUMMARY: On her birthday, he gives her everything—thoughtful surprises, quiet moments, and the kind of love only he knows how to show. But in the end, it’s not just about the presents. It’s about him, about them, and about a love that neither of them ever expected to find.

✦ WORD COUNT: 1.6K

✦ WARNINGS: language, fluff, teeny tiny age gap and very light allusions to sex — english is not my first language!

✦ MAY'S RADIO: HAPPY FUCKING BIRTHDAY TO THE QUEEN—MRS. ROY KENT HERSELF—TALLY A.K.A. @onceuponaoneshotfanfic!! 🥳🎂🎉 Never thought I'd be writing for Roy-o (and to be fair, this was terrifying 😅) but one does crazy things for their best friend, right? 🤪 Don't know if I got him right, but this is my honest attempt—this feels like showing Michelangelo the sculpture you made with sticks and glue 😮‍💨😆 Thank you for being your amazing self, Talita de mi corazón! 💖

< back to general masterlist

The first thing you see when you wake up is Roy Kent, standing beside the bed, holding a ridiculous little tiara in his rough hands. His face is serious, the permanent scowl intact, but there’s something soft in his eyes, something that makes your heart squeeze in your chest.

“Happy fucking birthday, my love,” he mutters, reaching forward to place the tiara on your head with a gentleness that doesn’t match his usual gruff demeanor. His fingers linger in your hair, brushing lightly over your temple before trailing down your jaw. “You’re wearing this all day. No arguments.”

You blink at him, still groggy, still processing, but then you catch the tiniest twitch of his lips—his version of a smile—and you let out a breathy laugh.“You got me a tiara?”

He grunts, his knuckles grazing your cheek. “'Course I did. You’re a fucking queen.”

You sit up, adjusting the tiara slightly before looking at him. “This is adorable. You’re adorable.”

Roy scoffs, but his ears turn pink. “Shut up.” Then, before you can protest, he bends down and presses a lingering, rough kiss to your forehead, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone. “Get up. Got plans for you.”

The moment you step into the kitchen, the smell of coffee and something sweet hits you. Roy’s already there, setting a plate down on the table—pancakes shaped like hearts.

You gasp. “Did you make these?”

Roy crosses his arms, but before he can look away, you catch the faintest ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. "Tried, didn’t I?" he mutters, then, as if unable to help himself, reaches out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering just a second too long. "Wanted ‘em to be perfect for you."

You can tell they aren’t perfect—some edges a little wonky, one slightly burnt—but the fact that Roy fucking Kent made heart-shaped pancakes for you is enough to make your chest feel too full.

“Roy,” you say, voice soft. “This is the sweetest thing—”

“Eat,” he interrupts, sitting across from you. His foot nudges yours under the table, a casual, grounding touch. “Got a whole fucking day planned.”

“You’re being so romantic,” you tease, cutting into a pancake. “Who are you, and what have you done with my grumpy bear?”

He grumbles but doesn’t deny it. Instead, he rests his elbow on the table and reaches over to thumb a bit of syrup off the corner of your mouth. “Just shut up and eat, sunshine.”

The tiara stays on your head all morning. Every time you reach up to adjust it, Roy grumbles, “Don’t even think about taking it off.” And when you catch your reflection in the mirror, the delicate sparkle of it nestled in your hair, you can’t help but smile.

Roy’s watching you from the doorway, arms crossed, his usual scowl softened just a bit. “What?” you tease, turning to face him.

He shakes his head, stepping closer until he’s right behind you, hands finding your waist and chin resting on your right shoulder. “You just… you look fucking happy.”

“I am happy,” you murmur, leaning into him. “You did all this, Roy.”

His throat bobs, and he looks away for a second, like taking in that truth is too much for him. But then he clears his throat and huffs, “Well, don’t get used to it. It’s a special occasion.”

You laugh, poking his side. “You’re such a liar.”

The first stop of the day is a bookstore, because Roy knows you. He knows books make you happy, and he wants you happy today—and always—. As soon as you step inside, he grabs a basket and shoves it into your hands.

“You get whatever the fuck you want,” he orders. “All of it.”

Your eyes widen. “Roy, that’s not—”

“Don’t argue with me on your birthday.” He levels you with a glare, but there’s something playful in it. “Or ever, really.”

You smirk, dragging your fingers across the spines of books. “This is your worst nightmare, isn’t it? Letting me loose in a bookstore?”

“Fucking terrifying.” He fake sighs, trailing behind you, but there’s a teasing glint in his eyes. He loves seeing you happy, and truth be told, he’d pull the fucking moon from the sky if you asked him to. “But you love it, so.”

And that’s Roy in a nutshell, isn’t it? Pretending to grumble but still making sure you get exactly what you want.

And just like that, the day unfolds in a way you never could have expected. Roy doesn’t just celebrate you—he worships you. Thirty presents, each one carefully chosen, each one more thoughtful than the last. The original Wizard of Oz screenplay and the actual red, sparkly shoes Dorothy wore—your absolute favorite movie brought to life in a way you never dreamed possible. Things that must have taken him forever to find. And then there are the smaller things, the inside-joke things, the memories woven into gifts that only you and he would understand.

There’s a midday picnic in the park, where Roy sits with his legs stretched out, letting you rest against his chest as you read to him. When you glance up at him, he’s watching you, eyes softer than usual, completely absorbed in the sound of your voice—He doesn’t complain when you dramatically change voices for different characters, just keeps one arm around you, occasionally pressing a kiss to your temple, your shoulder, your hair.

There’s an afternoon tea reservation at a fancy little café, where Roy glares at the tiny sandwiches and mutters, “Where the fuck is the real food?” but still lets you feed him a macaron.

And then, there’s the moment he takes you to a small private theater, just the two of you, and hands you the present—the one that makes your breath catch.

The original Pride and Prejudice manuscript.

You nearly drop it. “Roy—”

He shifts on his feet, clearing his throat. “Yeah, it, uh… took a while. And cost a fucking fortune, but—”

You throw your arms around him, cutting off whatever he was about to say. “I love you.”

His arms come around you instantly, holding you tight. “Yeah, yeah. Knew that.”

You pull back slightly, just enough to see the tenderness in his dark eyes. “You're not even gonna pretend to be surprised?”

He smirks, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “Why the fuck would I be surprised? 'Course you love me. I'm very fucking lovable.”

You laugh, nudging his chest playfully. “Debatable.”

Roy raises an eyebrow, lips twitching. “You wanna debate it? 'Cause I got around twenty more gifts back there that say otherwise.”

Your heart swells, and you shake your head with a grin. “No need. I already know you're the best.”

He fake sighs, shaking his head as if burdened by the weight of his own perfection. “Finally, she admits it. Took long enough.”

The final present—gift number thirty—comes when the day is winding down. You’re curled up with him on the couch, exhaustion settling into your limbs in the best way.

He hands you an envelope, his fingers lingering against yours as you take it.

When you open it, you find a letter—handwritten, messy but careful, every word him.

You deserve the world, but all I can give you is me. I know it’s not always easy, but every year you’ve spent loving me has made me a better man. You’ve seen me at my worst, my most unbearable, and still, you stay. You make me laugh when I want to punch something. You make me feel like I’m more than what the world sees. You’re my fucking sunshine, and I don’t know what I’d do without you. I don’t say it enough, but I fucking adore you. Happy birthday, my love.

Tears prick at your eyes, and when you look up, Roy is already watching you, a rare expression of vulnerability on his face.

“Roy…”

Before you can say anything else, he gets down on one knee—on his knee, the one that’s given him hell for years, making the moment even more significant—and pulls out a small velvet box. When he opens it, the ring inside is simple, elegant, perfect.

Your breath catches, hands flying to your mouth.

“I don’t want another year to go by without you knowing that I want every fucking one of them with you,” he says, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “Marry me, sunshine.”

Tears spill down your cheeks as you nod, unable to form words. Before you can even catch your breath, Roy’s hands are on your face, pulling you into a kiss that steals what little air you have left. It’s not just a kiss—it’s a claim, a promise, a fucking declaration. It’s every ounce of love, devotion, and need he has for you poured into one mind-blowing, knee-weakening kiss. You cling to him, fingers curling into his shirt, feeling his heart hammer against yours.

When he finally pulls back, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his voice is low, rough, filled with something dark and heady. "Gonna spend the rest of my life worshiping my wife—might as well start tonight. Gotta make sure we have a very happy marriage."

A shiver runs down your spine, and you barely have time to laugh before he’s scooping you up and carrying you to the bedroom, proving in every possible way just how much he means it. Roy slips the ring onto your finger, then pulls you into his arms, holding you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

And in that moment, you know—you already had the best birthday of your life. But this? This is the start of the rest of it.

#( agentstarkid's works )#roy kent fic #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent imagine #roy kent x you #ted lasso fic #roy kent #ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fluff #ted lasso imagine

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suzukiblu · 5 months ago

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Thank-you sentences for derpsheep behind the cut; “a fake cryptid and a real romantic”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

Tim had originally wondered if Superman was something along the lines of Metropolis’s version of the Batman before finding out that Clark Kent existed and that Superman’s voice did not actually sound like an entire star cycle happening all at once. He’d heard about Krypton long before that, of course, but hadn’t been sure that wasn’t just what humans heard instead of the actual truth.

It’s not like the Batman actually looks like the Batman, after all.

Well, except for when he does, obviously. But, like–that aside.

Tim still hadn’t been entirely sure what to think when he’d found out Superman was actually just a totally normal alien who’d just decided he really liked this one specific human city, just one that was primed for the local environment to the point that if there were literally any other Kryptonians around they’d probably count as an invasive species. Like, probably the planet should be a lot more worried to have found out that Superboy’s genetically stable than anyone actually seems to be? Because Superboy being genetically stable at least implies the possibility of human/Kryptonian crossbreeding, right? And also implies that Superman now very definitely knows that there’s at least a possibility of human/Kryptonian crossbreeding.

And if there’s any chance that half-human DNA might absorb yellow sunlight better than pure Kryptonian does, given humans evolved under a yellow sun to begin with . . .

Well, that’s . . . definitely a thought, yeah.

Possibly Tim should give those files of Superboy’s that he . . . creatively sourced from Cadmus another go-over or two. And maybe go looking in its systems again to see if he missed any classified ones or if there was anything that might’ve been misfiled anywhere in there. Just, like . . . for everyone’s sake.

He definitely did not forget the whole “lab-grown weapon built like a brick house who is technically capable of disassembling him down to his individual atoms with one little tap and about two seconds' worth of thought” thing. Not even slightly did he forget that thing.

Unfortunately Tim apparently finds that thing attractive, so that’s something he knows about himself now.

Well, just file it in with “the idea of being stalked by said lab-grown weapon makes Tim feel admired and interesting” and “the percentage of his very brief lifetime that said lab-grown weapon must’ve spent learning how to form and cut a perfect diamond is mortifying Tim into several different awakenings”, he guesses.

And like . . . probably something about the whole thing with Superboy finding out that Robin was sort of a freak and just immediately deciding to match said freak. Probably also that.

Anyway. Off-topic, definitely. Superman definitely isn’t dropping Superboy off for the date-night patrol that the Batman is currently trying to crash, but even if he did, at least he wouldn’t show up sounding like an entire star cycle about it. Which . . .

Tim does think that he’s heard a voice that sounds like that star cycle somewhere in the reflected daylight, just . . . once or twice, maybe. Come to think of it and all.

( doesn’t Robin know it yet, it wonders?

it’s not as if a Robin’s never heard one of them before, after all. )

Just–sometimes. Sometimes he thinks that.

Though it never quite fits, either, and he always seems to . . .

Wait. Off-topic, right? They’re off-topic.

. . . what was he thinking about again?

“Just–we’re going to go nest, okay?” Tim finally tries, though it’s probably the most mortifying thing he’s ever had to say to the Batman. Like, even more mortifying than trying to explain Steph was. Still, it’s the same theory as using Robin’s body language to get his point across, right? Or at least basically the same theory, anyway. “Like. Superboy and I. Collectively. Together. We’re going to go . . . nest. Together.”

The Batman . . . pauses. Tilts its head a little too far for a human to manage, and also a little too far for anything existing in just three dimensions to manage. Tim’s sinuses throb briefly and he smells fresh blood and burnt gunpowder for a flashed moment in the dark. And . . . popcorn, weirdly.

He’s never been able to figure out the popcorn.

kitten, the Batman says musingly. Tim represses a sigh. Body language, he reminds himself. Just–body language. Yeah.

“Yeah,” he says. “My, uh–kitten and I are gonna go nest.”

Tim will never, ever live down this conversation. Ever. Even if the Batman never mentions a thing about it again and no one else ever hears a word of it, he will never live it down.

#timkon #tim drake #bruce wayne #dc robin #batman #batfamily #wip: a fake cryptid and a real romantic #derpsheep

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nameless-jamie · 4 months ago

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Hiii, saw your pole and I'm obsessed with mutual pining!!! Can you write about AFC Richmond playing in a different city and after the match they have no curfew, but Roy takes Jamie for an all night training session and it just Jamie and PA missing each other throughout the night? Pretty please 🥺🥺🥺

Match Away

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

A/N: Sorry it took me so long to post, I had a rough few days…

TW: cursing, suggestive language/scenes

Jamie was sulking.

Not in an obvious, pouting like a child way—at least, not in public—but Y/N knew him too well to miss the little signs. The way his responses had been shorter than usual when she told him she wasn’t coming on the away game. The dramatic sighs. The way he had muttered, ‘S’not even worth goin’ then,’ under his breath, like he wasn’t literally contractually obligated to be there.

“Babe, you know I’d come if I could,” she had said, smoothing her hands over his chest, knowing exactly how to coax a real response from him.

“Don’t see why you can’t,” Jamie grumbled, dropping his forehead against hers.

“Because somebody has a schedule so packed it needs a miracle worker,” she teased. “And somebody also has sponsorship paperwork that needs finalizing before the deadline.”

Jamie exhaled heavily. “Sounds like a lot.”

“It is,” she said pointedly.

“So,” he murmured, nudging her nose with his, “couldn’t you just... not do it?”

Y/N huffed a laugh, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Oh, yeah, great plan. Let’s just see what happens when you don’t show up for your next big Nike campaign because I didn’t confirm your shoot.”

Jamie groaned, leaning back on the couch dramatically. “Babe. I need you there.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Will I?” He gave her the biggest, most tragic eyes she’d ever seen.

“You will,” she laughed.

“I won’t,” he said immediately.

But he had, of course. Barely.

The match had been a success—AFC Richmond clinching a narrow but well-earned victory in an away game that had everyone riding high on adrenaline. The team was in a different city, the air electric with post-match energy, and for the first time in ages, there was no curfew. No early morning drills. No scheduled meetings. Just freedom to celebrate.

Jamie had been looking forward to it—spending time with the team, sneaking away for a quiet moment alone to call Y/N. After everything—the missed voicemails, the confession, the stolen touches and whispered I love yous—he wanted to just be with her. He missed her.

But, of course, Roy fucking Kent had other plans.

Just as the team was heading out to celebrate, Roy had grabbed Jamie by the back of his training jacket and grunted, “You. Extra training. Now.”

Jamie had groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Oh, come on, Coach. We won. Can’t this wait till tomorrow?”

“No,” Roy had answered, completely unmoved.

So Jamie had sighed heavily, and trudged off behind Roy, muttering about “cruel and unusual punishment” as he disappeared into the night.

Y/N hadn’t intended to surprise him.

At first, she had genuinely needed to stay behind, sorting out his brand deals and upcoming events, because as much as Jamie complained about the responsibilities that came with being him, Y/N was the one who made sure it all actually happened.

But by the time she had checked off the last task, hours earlier than expected, she had started to regret not going.

Because Jamie had been relentless.

Jamie: I miss you. Jamie: I miss you more. Jamie: Why aren’t you texting me back? Have you replaced me? Jamie: Who is he?? Y/N: Jesus Christ, Jamie. It’s been 15 minutes. Jamie: That’s 15 minutes too long.

And then later—

Jamie: Team’s going out. Can’t even be arsed. Y/N: Go. Have fun. Jamie: Not fun without you.

By then, she had already made her decision.

She had booked the next available flight, packed a small bag, and by the time the team was getting ready for their match, she was already on her way.

He had no idea.

Which was why it was so fucking annoying that, after a full day of traveling just to surprise him, she was the one left waiting for him.

Because Jamie Tartt wasn’t in his hotel room.

No, Jamie Tartt was off suffering under Roy Kent’s iron fist, training in the middle of the fucking night while Y/N sat on the edge of his bed.

It wasn’t like she had planned it—she hadn’t flown across the country just to seduce him—but after all their pining, all their stolen kisses, all their missed moments, she wanted him to walk into his hotel room and see her looking like something out of one of his dreams.

And she knew Jamie.

He would lose his fucking mind.

If he ever actually got here...

Now, hours later, Y/N decided to go to the hotel bar with the rest of the team, nursing a drink she barely cared about, distracted and restless as she scrolled through her phone. She and Jamie had been texting the whole time. She was tired of sitting in the room all night.

Jamie: Roy is a demon. Jamie: Been runnin’ for hours. Might die. Jamie: If I do, tell everyone I loved you the most.

She had smiled at that, typing back:

Y/N: Dramatic. You literally do this for a living. Y/N: I miss you.

His reply had been immediate.

Jamie: I miss you more. Like, physically hurts how much I miss you. Jamie: Think I’m love sick. Jamie: Probably the worst case in history.

She had rolled her eyes, but her stomach had fluttered all the same.

It continued like that for hours—little messages, him sneaking a text when Roy wasn’t looking, her checking her phone between conversations with Sam and Isaac, neither of them quite able to focus on anything else.

But the celebration started winding down. The team, exhausted from the match (and the drinking), started retreating to their hotel rooms. She had lingered in the lobby for a while, hoping Jamie would be done soon, but after a final text—

Jamie: Roy says one more hour. Kill me.

—she had given up, heading to Jamie's room alone. Trying to make the best out of the situation and surprise him.

She had barely gotten comfortable in bed, wearing the most ridiculous excuse for sleepwear, when her phone buzzed.

Jamie: Done. Finally. Jamie: My legs are fucked. Jamie: Callin' you soon. Got to get to my room.

Y/N had barely processed the text when she heard the key card being inserted into the door.

By the time Jamie dragged himself through the door, he was exhausted, half-delirious, and so sore he was considering never forgiving Roy Kent. His shirt was damp with sweat, his hair clinging to his forehead, and his usual cocky smirk was slightly loopy with exhaustion.

But when he lifted his head and saw her—actually her—sitting on his bed, legs tucked underneath her, looking like the prettiest thing he’d ever seen—every single complaint disappeared from his mind.

He froze in the doorway.

“Babe?”

Y/N grinned, leaning back against the pillows. “Hey, Jamie.”

His eyes raked over her—lingering on the thin straps of her nightdress, the soft fabric clinging to her skin. He blinked slowly. “Am I hallucinating?”

She tilted her head. “I don’t know. Did Roy run you into the ground?”

“Yes. But—” He shook his head like he was clearing it. “No, this is real. You’re real.”

Y/N bit her lip, nodding. “I wanted to surprise you.”

Jamie inhaled sharply, taking a slow step forward, then another. “Babe. You can’t just—fuck—you can’t just show up lookin’ like that.”

She smirked. “Like what?”

“Like—” His hands gestured wildly. “Like that.”

“I mean, it is my sleepwear.”

Jamie let out a strangled noise. “Babe, be fucking serious. That’s straight up lingerie.”

She laughed, and God, he had missed that sound.

He was in front of her in seconds, dropping onto the bed, immediately pulling her into his arms, his face buried against her shoulder.

“Pretty girl,” he sighed dramatically, immediately cuddling into her space, arms winding around her waist. “Missed you so much.”

Her fingers tangled in his hair. “I know.” Y/N laughed softly, letting him press his face against her shoulder. “You smell terrible.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled. “Been sufferin’. Roy had me doin’ sprints while he sat there and ate a protein bar. It was psychological warfare.”

She ran a hand over his damp hair, trying to fight a smile. “Poor baby.”

Jamie lifted his head, his eyes dark and hazy, still dazed from exhaustion. “You know how many times I texted you?”

She smiled. “Yeah.”

“Roy kept yellin’ at me for checkin’ my phone. Didn’t even care. Kept checkin’ anyway.”

Y/N smoothed her hand over his jaw. “I missed you too, Jamie.”

His lips brushed against her shoulder, trailing upward. “You should’ve been there, takin’ care of me and yelling at Roy.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Oh? Taking care of you, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, fingers trailing along her waist lazily. “Like, y’know, run me a bath. Massage my legs. Kiss me better.” His grin turned cheeky

“I am here now.” She snorted.

Jamie sighed happily. “Yeah, but I wasted hours when I could’ve been doin’ this.”

She raised an eyebrow. “This?”

Jamie hummed, dragging her closer. “This,” he confirmed, kissing her softly, slowly, like he was making up for lost time.

She melted against him, letting herself sink into his warmth, the feeling of his lips, the way his hands mapped out her back.

Jamie pulled away just slightly, his forehead resting against hers, his fingers tracing the thin straps of her dress.

“You know,” he murmured, “I’d be sayin’ all sorts of things right now—if I wasn’t so fuckin’ tired.”

Y/N smirked. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.” He sighed dramatically. “Worst fuckin’ timing. Honestly, Roy should be arrested.”

She laughed, her fingers smoothing over his tired muscles. “It's a pity, really.”

Jamie groaned. “Need you to take care of me. Ok how about I lay down and you do whatever you want to me.”

“You’re literally about to pass out.” Y/N rolled her eyes fondly. “How about we start with sleep?”

Y/N rolled her eyes but pulled him onto his pillow and under the blanket. He collapsed onto it with a satisfied groan, dragging her down the blanket with him and nuzzling against her immediately.

Jamie hummed. “If I go to sleep, will you stay with me?”

She kissed his forehead. “I’m not going anywhere. Didn't even book another room. I have to bunk with you, pretty boy.”

“Best night ever,” he mumbled, pressing a lazy kiss to her shoulder.

She smiled, running her fingers through his hair as he melted against her.

“Go to sleep, Jamie.”

His breath was already slowing, his body heavy and warm against hers.

Jamie sighed, utterly content, already half-asleep as he mumbled, “Love you, babe.”

Y/N smiled against him.

“Love you too, Jamie.”

#jamie tartt #ted lasso #ted lasso show #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #afc richmond #jamie tartt imagine #roy kent #sam obisanya

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nightwngz · 2 years ago

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𝓢𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬. 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗀𝗎𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗍𝗒 ୨ ໋ ˳ ⊹ eng. . . !

superman, wonder woman and batman x f!reader

WARNINGS: smut drabble, gang bang, some sexual degradation, masturbation, oral sex, p in v. Diana!bisexual.

LANGUAGE: English is not my first language and I am still studying to master it. It makes me insecure to write by myself in another language, so I used the translator. I apologize in advance for any mistakes. The original version is here.

There was always something strange and unlikely about these three from the moment you met them.

They were all hiding secrets. According to you, hiding secrets was one of the most common parts of human nature. You were not interested in knowing what they were all hiding, but your curious mind was obsessed with knowing what the holy trinity of the Justice League was hiding beneath their sleek and sophisticated veneer of heroes; what no one would dare doubt or question.

The price of your curiosity was more costly than you could have ever imagined, a debt that would have to be repaid. Now you were part of this madness, and no matter how much you wanted to, you couldn't escape.

The good news was that you didn't want to.

You knew that the moment you felt the three of them completely, you were content to belong.

It was just hard to think of anything else when you found yourself tied to a chair, completely naked and unable to move while three pairs of blue eyes analyzed you.

The beautiful princess of Themyscira had no shame in digging into your sweet crotch. Her fingers slid across your sodden vaginal lips with a sound so vulgarly obscene that it caused you to inadvertently stir in your chair.

You looked intently at the two male figures as you tried to get as close to Diana as your body would allow so you could kiss her and feel her fingers go deeper inside you.

But before you could reach her lips, you were brutally pushed away by the man of steel, who had the clear intention of tasting your mouth first. Not that you were complaining; Clark's tongue was heavenly. It had a strange but hot connection to your lips, so it made you a mess right away. Who would have thought that Superman's ultimate power would be to soak his victims so easily?

Still, you didn't deserve them to be nice to you. On the contrary, you should be punished for insubordination. What you did was unforgivable.

In your defense, you didn't know that you were exclusive to the trio and couldn't sleep with other people. The rules weren't very clear when you met them, or when they started their no-strings-attached sex adventures.

Of course, you were not exclusive to anyone, and you planned to make that clear in the future. Right now, you were too busy cumming on Diana's fingers drilling your pussy that you didn't have enough time to think about anything else.

The adoration the Bat had for the way your pussy enveloped him so warmly brought out the most dominant and morbid part of his inner self. The sight of his cock moving in and out of your little hole at the same time your mouth was happily eating Clark's erection and your fingers were eating Diana's clit was enough to bring you to the verge of orgasm.

You gagged as the tip brushed against your uvula. You couldn't even concentrate enough because of how hard he was penetrating you. The pleasure was embracing.

— Look at our little slut. She can't even concentrate on sucking a good cock while she's being fucked. - Wayne commented. He kept going right into her sweet spot; faster and faster, more and more precise.

— She was too bad. Should we give her a prize though? She always takes us so well. - Kent continues, asking. You're beginning to control the rhythm of your mouth, although it's still a little difficult in some ways.

— Oh, Hera! - moans the princess of Themyscira. - That feels so good. - Her fingers can't resist trying to help themselves so she can come on your hand.

This is definitely the best part of the day, the one you enjoyed the most. And of course that was the guilty pleasure that came with keeping a secret. The secret the four of you shared.

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne smut #bruce wayne #batman #batman smut #batman x reader #clark kent #clark kent x reader #clark kent smut #superman #superman smut #superman x reader #wonder woman #wonder woman x reader #wonder woman smut #dc comics #dc universe #dc au

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satellite-evans · 1 year ago

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Look at the stars

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x reader

Summary: Benedict and his Y/N spend a joyful day picnicking and stargazing with their children <3

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: tooth aching fluff

A/N:

This was a request from @pear-1206 , I hope I did your request justice, love xx

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, recommendations, vents or questions are always welcome. I love talking to you guys about anything <3

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The sun was warm and golden, casting a gentle glow over the lush countryside. The air was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the sound of birds chirping merrily. It was the perfect day for a picnic, and Benedict Bridgerton couldn't have been happier to spend it with his wife and children.

Benedict and Y/N had always shared a mutual disdain for the relentless scrutiny of society. From the moment they met, they found solace in each other's company, both preferring the quiet beauty of nature and the simplicity of family life over the pomp and circumstance of high society. Benedict was hopelessly devoted to Y/N, captivated by her spirit and the way she saw the world. She had a way of grounding him, reminding him of what truly mattered.

Today, they had chosen a secluded spot in the picturesque countryside of Kent, a place far enough from their estate to ensure complete privacy. Nestled under the shade of an ancient oak tree, the spot offered a breathtaking view of rolling hills and a gently flowing brook nearby. The grassy field stretched out before them, a sea of wildflowers swaying in the breeze. Their children, a boisterous five-year-old boy named Thomas and a giggling two-year-old girl named Violet, were already darting about, chasing butterflies and exploring the wonders of nature.

"Thomas, be careful!" Y/N called out, laughing as their son sprinted after a particularly fast butterfly, his little legs pumping furiously. He stumbled over a small mound of earth but quickly picked himself up, his laughter ringing out across the field. He waved back at his parents with a wide grin, dirt smudging his cheeks.

She turned to Benedict, her eyes sparkling with joy and a hint of motherly concern. "He's going to wear himself out before we've even unpacked the basket."

Benedict smiled, his heart swelling with love as he watched his family. "Let him. It's good for him to have space to run and play." He set down the picnic basket and spread out the blanket, patting the spot next to him. "Come, love. Sit with me."

Y/N joined him, resting her head on his shoulder as they unpacked the basket together. They had prepared all of their favorite foods: fresh sandwiches with a variety of fillings, ripe strawberries, an assortment of cheeses and crackers, a freshly baked loaf of bread, and, of course, a bottle of fine wine. Benedict carefully laid out each item, ensuring everything was in easy reach for their little picnic.

"I can't believe you managed to pack all of our favorites," Y/N said, smiling as she unwrapped a loaf of bread still warm from the oven. "It's like you read my mind."

Benedict chuckled, leaning in to kiss her temple. "I had a little help from our cook, but I wanted today to be perfect for you and the children."

Violet toddled over, her tiny hands reaching for a strawberry, and Benedict handed one to her, laughing as she eagerly bit into it, the juice dribbling down her chin. "Delicious, isn't it, my sweet?" he asked, wiping her chin with a napkin.

Violet nodded, her eyes wide with delight. "More, Papa!" she demanded, holding out her hand for another strawberry.

Benedict obliged, giving her another juicy berry. "Here you go, darling. Enjoy."

Thomas ran back to the blanket, breathless from his adventures. "Mama, Papa, look!" He opened his little fist to reveal a handful of wildflowers. "I picked these for you, Mama."

Y/N's eyes softened as she took the flowers from Thomas. "They're beautiful, Thomas. Thank you." She arranged them into a small bouquet and placed them in a little jar they had brought along. "They add the perfect touch to our picnic."

Thomas grinned, proud of his contribution. "Can we eat now, Papa? I'm starving!"

Benedict laughed, ruffling Thomas's hair. "Of course, my boy. Let's see what we have here." He handed Thomas a sandwich, watching as his son eagerly took a bite.

Y/N began to serve the cheese and crackers, arranging them on a plate. "This cheese is from that little shop in town, isn't it?" she asked, recognizing the distinct aroma.

"Indeed it is," Benedict replied. "I know how much you like it."

She smiled warmly at him. "You always remember the little things."

As they ate, they talked and laughed, sharing stories and memories. Y/N recounted a humorous incident from their last family outing, making Benedict chuckle. "I still can't believe you managed to get us lost in our own backyard," she teased.

Benedict shook his head, a mock expression of horror on his face. "I maintain that it was all part of the adventure."

Thomas piped up, his mouth full of sandwich. "Papa, are we going to play tag later? I want to show you how fast I can run!"

Benedict nodded, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Absolutely. But be warned, Thomas, I’ve been practicing my tag skills. You might not be able to catch me."

Thomas giggled, clearly relishing the challenge. "We'll see about that!"

Violet, not wanting to be left out, clapped her hands and babbled excitedly. "Tag! Tag!"

Y/N laughed, her heart full. "Looks like you have two little competitors, Benedict."

After they finished eating, they played a spirited game of tag. Benedict and Y/N took turns chasing the children, their laughter echoing across the field. Thomas was a blur of motion, his little legs pumping as he dodged and weaved, while Violet toddled around, giggling whenever someone pretended to catch her.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm, golden hue over the landscape, they gathered up their things and made their way back home. After a quick supper and baths for the children, they all headed outside again, this time with a blanket and pillows to lie on as they stargazed.

Benedict carried a sleepy Violet in one arm and a basket with their essentials in the other. "Do you think the stars are brighter tonight, or is it just me?" he mused aloud, looking up at the clear night sky.

Y/N smiled, holding Thomas's hand as he skipped alongside her. "Maybe they're shining just for us," she replied, her voice filled with contentment.

The night sky was clear, a tapestry of stars twinkling above them. They spread out the blanket on the grassy hill behind their home, arranging the pillows for comfort. Thomas immediately lay down, pointing up at the sky with excitement.

"Look, Papa! I see the Big Dipper!" he exclaimed, his small finger tracing the constellation.

Benedict chuckled, lying down next to him. "That's right, Thomas. And do you see that bright star over there? That's the North Star. Sailors used to navigate by it."

Thomas's eyes widened with fascination. "Did they use wishing stones too, Papa?"

Y/N laughed, settling Violet in her lap. "I think they relied more on maps and compasses, love. But a wishing stone could come in handy in a pinch."

Violet, still clutching her pebble, looked up at the sky with wide eyes. "Stars! Pretty!"

Benedict pointed out another constellation, his voice a soothing rumble in the stillness of the night. "There's Orion," he said, tracing the shape with his finger. "And over there is the Great Bear."

Thomas stared up in wonder, his small hand clutching the wishing stone. "Can I make my wish now, Papa?"

Benedict nodded, his eyes meeting Y/N's. "Go ahead, son."

Thomas closed his eyes, whispering his wish softly. When he finished, he placed the stone on his chest and sighed contentedly. "Your turn, Mama."

Y/N closed her eyes, holding Benedict's hand as she made her wish. She opened her eyes and smiled at him, her heart full. "Your turn, my love."

Benedict took the stone, closing his eyes. He didn't need to wish for anything; everything he had ever wanted was right here with him. But for the sake of tradition, he made a wish anyway: for endless days like this, filled with love and laughter.

Thomas squirmed, curious. "What did you wish for, Papa?"

Benedict grinned, ruffling his son's hair. "If I told you, it wouldn't come true, would it?"

Thomas pouted playfully. "That's not fair! I bet you wished for more wishing stones."

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. "Knowing your father, he probably wished for more of your mama's cooking."

Violet clapped her hands, clearly enjoying the banter. "Wish! Wish!"

Benedict leaned over to Y/N, his voice low and filled with warmth. "I actually wished for moments like this to last forever."

She rested her head on his shoulder, her voice soft. "I love you, Benedict Bridgerton."

He kissed her forehead, his heart overflowing with happiness. "And I love you, Y/N Bridgerton. Always."

Thomas, ever the inquisitive one, looked between his parents. "Does that mean you wished for more picnics and stargazing, Papa?"

Benedict chuckled. "Something like that, Thomas. I wished for more time with my favorite people."

Thomas grinned, satisfied with that answer. "I like that wish."

Under the vast, starlit sky, surrounded by the warmth of their family, they knew they had everything they could ever need. It was a perfect ending to a perfect day, and as they drifted off to sleep, they dreamed of many more days just like this. The gentle sounds of the night filled the air, and the stars above seemed to shine a little brighter, as if in agreement with Benedict's silent wish.

#benedict bridgerton #benedict x reader #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x you #bridgerton s3 #benedict bridgerton x y/n #fluff #benedict bridgerton fluff #bridgerton fanfiction

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shhhsupertopsecret · 9 months ago

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Bats - Connor Kent

an: some sort of established connection between reader and batfamily (I’ll let you decide) and based on the half-canon “No Metas in Gotham” rule because I think it’s funny. I love domestic batfamily. Let them be a lil silly. Not beta'd :)

WC: 1205

Secretly dating someone with a single brain cell was not for the faint of heart. Dating a meta from out of town while you live in Gotham was also for the faint of heart.

“Connor, for fuck’s sake!” You fell onto your back, knocking the air out of your lungs, when Connor appeared upside down in your window. He looked at you, his gaze soft with humor. A shit-eating grin pulled at his lips.

“May I be gifted entrance?” He tilted his head, a strand of hair falling from where his glasses were pushing his hair back. When you had just about gathered your bearings, you pulled him through the window.

“What if B sees you? Are you out of your mind?” Your face was pinched in reasonable concern.

“No ‘hello’? No ‘how are you’? No ’thank you for breaking Batman’s rules to come see me because you love me so much?’” He wrapped one arm loosely around your waist. You really did miss him. There hadn’t been a reason to work together as of late. Making excuses to see him when surrounded by detectives was really hard. By god, you missed him.

“Hello, I love you, I am so happy to see you, I was numb with loneliness before you appeared”, you placed a kiss to the tip of his nose, “Satisfied?”

“I’ll accept it. So…I can stay?” You rolled your eyes at his half-smirk. He was such a dork.

“Fine, if you must.” Your voice was thick with mock-aloofness, you turned up your nose. You pulled the curtains closed (maybe that was a little paranoid, but all it took was one far away picture in the groupchat to have a dozen bats - mainly Tim - at your door).

“Movie?” He had already made himself comfortable amongst your pillows and stuffed animals.

“Of course. My pick this time!” He laughed and relented. As you approached the bed, he opened his arms for you to lay down. You wished he could be with you all the time. It wasn’t that you were ashamed of him, you could not think of anyone you would rather be with, but you were a little apprehensive for the other bats to know. Firstly, you would have to fight Tim for his attention and you were not good at sharing. Secondly, you would be fraternizing with a Kent and Bruce was real weird about Supes. Thirdly, you had a pack of pseudo-brothers who would want a few words. Bad mix. It was nice to share a bubble with Connor.

Halfway through the movie, you and Connor had molded into one person. Arms and legs were entangled. You were both cocooned in your comforter. You laid nearly fully on top of him, ear over his heart. You were half-asleep, more comfortable than you had been in a while. There was a knock at the door, not unexpected as you had ordered food 30 minutes ago. You pulled away from the tangle, not without Connor letting out a whine.

“Food, babe. Be right back.” You placed a kiss on his forehead and grabbed his jacket off the bedside chair to cover your pajamas.

“Coming!” You called as you shuffled to the door, pulling it open.

That was not a pizza delivery.

You met eyes with Tim. You contorted your body in an approximation of casual body language.

“Hey, Tim. What brings you to these pastures?” You leaned against the doorframe. That was a really fucking stupid thing to say. You were not selling casual very well. You had been ambushed!

“...Hey?” If Tim’s expression was anything to go by, you looked crazy.

“The Computer’s systems went down before I could finish saving some files and Bruce said you had the physical drive?”

“Oh shit, yeah. It’s in my room. Just…wait here.” This was an easy fix. Give Tim the drive and he would be on his way. It was then that it struck you - you were wearing a jacket three sizes too big with very recognizable spikes on the shoulders. If you turn around there would be a blazing emblem sealing your coffin. No way any of this got past Tim. You felt like you were harboring a fugitive. You kept your cool - and slammed the door in Tim’s face. As quickly as possible, you ran to your room and ransacked your own drawers in search of the cursed USB drive. You ran back to the door, no doubt ten times more disheveled than when you first answered it.

“Here you go!” You pressed the drive into Tim’s palm and slammed the door once again. Crisis averted??? You commenced the walk of shame back to your bedroom, no doubt that Connor heard that whole ordeal.

“Pastures!?” You picked up the nearest pillow and slammed it into his face.

“I KNOW!”

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

You received a page to the Batcave. While you were hoping for a break, you were always on call. Not unexpected. You pulled yourself together and headed out the door. Your commute to the manor was thankfully uneventful. The sight that greeted you upon your entrance, however, was unexpected.

Dick, Tim, Jason, and Damian sat around a table at different levels of enthusiasm. Dick and Tim wore matching expressions of mischief while Jason and Damian had equal expressions of disinterest. No doubt they were forced to be here.

“Thank you for attending this meeting. Some information has come to light that we feel the need to debrief.” Dick was definitely having fun fucking with you.

“I was forced to be here.” Jason was reading a book under the table.

“I concur with Todd.” Damian didn’t even look up from the notebook he was drawing in. Aww, you felt so loved.

“Is this necessary? I don’t interrogate you about your romantic escapades. And you-”, you pivoted to Tim, ”You really couldn’t keep this to yourself! You would think a detective would have more tact.” Tim was still smirking at you.

“As a detective, I am incredibly nosy.” You leaned over and flicked his forehead.

“Uncalled for!”

“Very called for!”

“Just wait until we tell Bruce.” You slammed your hands down on the table.

“Dick, please don’t. I will tell him when I have to. I would never get to see him if Bruce knew.” You were dead serious and borderline begging, which seemed to make this less fun.

“You’re serious about him?” Dick softened into his more caring big brother mode.

“So serious.” Dick smiled at that. He and the other bats had terrible romantic track records and it made him happy to see you able to succeed in that department. He slipped back into his business demeanor.

“The council has decided - we will not be reporting to the higher authority, but we will be conducting a thorough examination of the suspect.” Was he a Supreme Court Justice now??? This did seem to perk Jason and Damian’s interest. Figures. Jason did have a history of trying to scare your romantic suitors. You threw an arm around his shoulder around Dick’s shoulder.

“Thank you, dork. Don’t try to scare him too bad.” If this was their weird way of caring for you, you would let them have it. You would also have to warn Connor.

#connor kent x reader #connor kent #kon el #superboy dc #dc x reader #dc comics

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gatorbites-imagines · 7 months ago

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Urggg I’ve been submitting this ask to multiple blogs for ages with different characters lol. How about the reader faking an orgasm with superboy or green lantern. Is it weird that I find how writers handle that prompt interesting? And when they take the route of the characters telling them to cut that shit out and doubling their efforts it makes me laugh.

Hal Jordan and Conner Kent/Kon-el

Headcanons

Since you didn’t specify which Green Lantern, I chose Hal since I love him very much. Individual headcanons for each won’t be as long as usual, since I wanted to write both.

couldnt find a good gif related to these too, so,,,

Hal Jordan

I think it depends on your guy’s relationship. If you two are a couple who’s been together for a while, Hal would notice one way or another. As a green lantern, Hal has gotten pretty damn good at reading body language, so he clocks you faking after a while.

I can see him huffing and sighing, not out of anger or anything, mainly just for show, before he hikes you into his lap or closer to him as he makes some comment about him not doing it good enough.

Hal would take it as a challenge, as long as you are into it of course. Don’t think you get out of talking about it, because you will. It becomes a bit annoying as pillow talk, but Hal wants feedback and wants to know how you’re doing.

He might even pull this in the middle of doing it, like making you look in his eyes to make you confirm that you’re good. When he gets the confirmation though, Hal doesn’t hold back. Since you felt the need to fake it, Hal feels the need to wring as many out of you as possible, just as payback, or so he says.

It’s no shocker that he’s great with his hands, and that the ring joins the fray at some point. Its just always so fun to catch you off guard with one of his projections, only to make you arch your back and moan about it five seconds after.

It ends up being a bit of an ego boost for Hal, but what else is new.

Conner Kent

I feel like Conner would clock it immediately. Having super senses gives him that advantage. Like hearing your heart does not stutter the same way as it normally does when you orgasm, or that he can’t immediately pick up the scent of your spend.

Depending on how far you guys are in your relationship, Conner would stop and ask. If it’s the very beginning of you two dating, he might not say anything, instead internalizing it and telling himself to try harder next time.

But if you guys are comfortable, Conner would just stop thrusting and look at you before asking if it doesn’t feel good and if you’re not up for it.

Conner would feel so bad if you felt like you had to sleep with him, which is why he asks and needs to know. And he’s always liked performing to the best of his abilities, so if he’s doing something you don’t like, he wants to know that too.

If its just one of those situations where you just… cant finish, then he wont feel bad about it either, though there’s a big chance he won’t want to keep going. Most of the fun is that you feel good, so you not enjoying it as much as he is takes the wind out his sails.

If its something he’s doing wrong, like not hitting the right place or grabbing you too tight, whatever, Conner will immediately take it as a challenge to make you see stars one way or another. His secret, not so secret weapon, is giving head, since he has no gag reflex, a very flexible tongue, and can hold his breath for probably hours if he wanted too.

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snakeredbirdbatkatana · 1 year ago

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You Didn't Save me (I begged You Not To)

Lex Luthor is not a good man.

He is a literal supervillain, he's also more than aware of the consent issues of what he did when he created Connor.

Yet he is surprised by how furious Superman is making him.

Not that he isn't always angry with Superman but before it wasn't quite so personal.

It was a bigger issue what Superman stood for what he was but right now he's not picking the fight with Superman but with Clark Kent.

He has spent as much time as possible studying everything about kryptonian's from their weakness to their language.

Essentially, Superman should keep better track of his belongings.

Kon-El means abomination.

Lionel Luthor was never a kind man he knows exactly why he is who he is today. He still has slight scars from his fathers belt. Cruel words that years after his father's death, will still haunt his memories.

When he was younger he was friends with Bruce Wayne before being a Villain was his priority.

He remembers hiding at Wayne Manor a feeling of safety he had never felt before.

He's also more than aware that his old friend is running around as a Bat.

Bruce Wayne even as a child always stood for hope was always ready to change the world to stand for something better.

That's is why years later Lex Luthor is knocking on a door that he's not hundred percent sure he won't be turned away from.

Yet Kon-El means abomination.

"Mr. Luthor I was unaware Master Bruce was expecting you?"

Alfred looks older than Lex remembers for some reason the man always seemed above aging untouchable even by time.

"He's not, I need to speak with him please it's urgent."

He is a Luthor begging is below him, but right now he feels fourteen again, with the belief that the people within Wayne Manor can fix anything.

"Of course. Master Bruce is in his study, I will lead you please follow me Mr. Luthor."

He doesn't bring up how he knows the way. That he once ran chasing after Bruce hiding in that very study. That they had broken a vase playing like little boys did. He doesn't bring up crying, terrified that Alfred had promised him no harm should come to him in these halls.

He doesn't correct how he used to be Master Lex. He lost that privilege long ago.

It's been a very long time since he has laid eyes on Bruce Wayne he's seen the tabloids, even a passing glance at a gala but for some reason he didn't picture slight gray hair, a dark black suit, he imagined a Gotham Academy Uniform or a Nirvana Shirt that Lex always wanted to steel but never quite worked up the courage.

He doesn't even hear Alfred's depart he can't tear his eyes away from Bruce.

His throat is dry like all the moisture has somehow left since he walked through the doors.

He is Lex Luthor but right now he doesn't remember what that means.

"Kon-El means abomination did you know that?"

His voice weak. Bruce's face doesn't change, blank.

" I am not my Father. I don't know what to do but I refuse for my child to think he isn't loved by at least one of his parents."

He breathes.

"All those year ago, you told me that you would help that all I had to do was ask, I was an idiot, it's too late for me but not for him."

Bruce's voice startles him he hasn't realized how deep in his own mind he had sank.

"All you had to do was ask."

Bruce's face painted in the same smirk as if they were eighteen again smoking on the manors roof.

Lex Luthor is not a good person, but for Connor Luthor he will try he will rebuild bridges, bend his pride he will beg on his knees.

He never understood how a parent should be or what it really meant to wake up everyday and have your whole being dedicated to loving and protecting something.

As he watches the rise and fall of his child's chest wrapped in the arms of the third Robin safe in his penthouse behind security straight from Wayne Enterprises and he doesn't regret it.

He know's he would do it all over again and when next Sunday comes and he gets a invite to brunch that he never throught he would see again he knows it was all for the better.

#kon el #lex luthor #protective bruce wayne #good Lex Luthor #Bruce Wayne saves the day #good parent everyone #this is also on a03 #tim drake #batfamily #sucky Clark Kent #Tim loves Kon #fuck Lionel Luthor #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #bruce wayne

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