#Wayne!reader

[uniicorns-arereall]

are you guys ever reading a good fic and then the author just adds a random terrible line and you just stare at it like this:

[invincibledc]

Dick who is feeling prideful: Who’s your favorite sibling lil D?

Damian not hesitating at all about his twin: Y/N.

Dick coughs in his fist feeling a little hurt.

Dick: let me rephrase that. WHO’S your favorite non-blood sibling?

Damian actually thinks about it before opening his mouth.

Damian: I am loyal to my sibling that is my blood. No one shall take their spot in my heart.

Damian dramatically puts his hand to his heart meanwhile dick is very close to punching the boy in the throat.

Damian: though Grayson, you are tolerable. I can recommend that you are my favorite “non-blood.” Brother….

Dick smiles before what Damian said made him frown.

Damian: Though, you are below Todd.

Dick: MOTHER FUC—

[supermenz]

blue and grey

summary: four years after the flood, you move out of gotham to start anew in metropolis — the cute reporter that steals your heart is just collateral damage.

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

all dividers by @cafekitsune!

i. one (2.2k) — 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.

ii. hater no.1 (tbd) — Lex Luthor is used to getting all he wants — guess he isn't aware that in Gotham, CEOs have hired hitmen for much less than the stupid stunts he has pulled with Wayne Enterprises lately. You're going to show him how Waynes handle nuisances.

more chapters to be added!

[mev-fizzah-writes]

So...what if Bruce Wayne had a sister? I remember doing something like this on my old account, but I love the idea so much. And if she was older than him, even if it was by a few years, she would've definitely parentified herself. Wanting to shadow her precious baby brother from Gotham's cruelness, we all know how that worked out. Whether she was adopted or not, it works either way.

TW: Dark themes.

Bruce Wayne's sister.

You hated being known as only his sister, even though you were there first. The only time they used your name in headlines was to mock you or to exaggerate a mistake you made. That was before the tragedy; after...well, it still didn't paint you in a pretty light.

After losing your parents, Bruce became more hostile, and you became more docile. When he would close his fists in rage, you would open your arms with tenderness. When he opened his mouth with sorrow, you opened yours with comfort. His grief manifested into hostility; the sweet baby boy you once knew was gone. It was replaced with someone who wanted to hurt and cause pain. It was replaced with someone you wanted to, no had to, protect. Who cared about your tears? Alfred had lost his dearest friends, and Bruce had lost his Mom and Dad.

You grew up too fast; it made you a perfect target for the cameras. Constantly avoiding the flashes until you couldn't. Until they trapped you, until they caught you. But hey, at least it wasn't Bruce. Right? I mean...sometimes the attention wasn't that bad. was. Sure, the praise was mainly unwanted, but it was innocent. A little girl who shines just like her parents did despite the loss. Sadly, soon, the praise would morph into something darker, seeping into your head and clawing at it constantly. It clawed at your body as well, leaving a trail of disgust burnt onto her body. At least it was her and not Bruce; he could never know.

He could never know about any of it. Not about how you would sometimes sneak into your parents' room; you hated that there was no longer warmth in it. He couldn't know how you would steal Mom's perfume and Dad's cologne, spraying it on the silk pillows and just lay on their bed. Silently sobbing to yourself as you cursed herself for not remembering their voices properly. You hated yourself, and you hated how Bruce would wake you up in the middle of the night just to sleep in your bed. But not really; you couldn't hate your baby brother. Sure, he was turning ten soon, but he still clung on to you like he was still four. You didn't blame him for their deaths; how could you? How could you not?

It was Gotham's cruelness, the same cruelness that kept you up at nights. The visions and night terrors were too much, but it was probably worse for Bruce.

Bruce Wayne's sister, the same one that didn't shed a single tear at her parents funeral.

Bruce Wayne's sister, the only girl that doesn't cry when visiting her parents grave.

You held it in, held it all in. The only steady person in a sea of grief and anger. It was the best thing you could do, you thought. Until you felt trembling hands tug at your dress. A shaky voice calling you, accusing you of being heartless. He was just a baby. You weren't heartless; you just couldn't allow it to be broken again.

Even if it did get broken, constantly at school. Bruce Wayne's sister, so timid compared to her brother. You couldn't fight back; you knew you couldn't. Even if all you wanted to do was push them against the road concrete and watch their noses go flat against it. It'll go away; you hoped it would go away. But it didn't. It was hell, it was hell until you embraced it.

I will add more, just had to get this out there

[m3vl0vesu]

ʙʀᴜᴄᴇ ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪs ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇsᴏᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜɴɢᴇʀ sɪsᴛᴇʀ.

A/N: Hiii!! I wil make a masterlist soon I just have some stuff rn, the fanfic writer curse is real chat...anyways! Hope you enjoy, constructive criticism is always welcome (just be nice) :D. This is a WIP, think of it as a blurb, the TW is for what you might see, this is very light. Tw: underage drinking, self harm, SA, you've been warned <3

ʙʀᴜᴄᴇ ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪs ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇsᴏᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜɴɢᴇʀ sɪsᴛᴇʀ.

That's what newest headline read, it was no longer up anymore of course. Alfred just about managed to get all the newspapers wiped, with the help of Bruce of course.

In all honesty it was true, the youngest Wayne was troublesome. Before Brucei Wayne there was you, a teenage drunken mess. Not that anyone caught on the drunken part. In Gotham, drinking at fifteen really wasn't a big deal. The police had better things to worry about, it's what you loved and hated about this place. Plus, a bit of money and maybe some grade A bimbo acting you get off scratch free, and not a word of it catches wind to your brother.

Bruce on the other hand, sure he may not know exactly what's happening to his younger sister but he knows it's not just a 'rebellious phase' as the media puts it. Sure it could be teenage hormones, or it could be something much worse. In his eyes you started pulling away from him, even from Alfred. And sure Bruce could be more active in his sisters life but as he puts it, he's busy. In his eyes you’d spend time after school hanging out with kids he had had never seen you speak to, you'd never even mention these 'friends'. He felt like his innocent sister was slipping through his fingers, the threads between you two fraying and thinning as time passes. He wanted it to stop.

He's seen the way the media was portraying his baby sister, it didn't sit right with him. But not a word of complaint was uttered, it didn't seem to be affecting you. Little did he know that you were trapped in prisons the system, the media had created, and when he knows it'll be too late. That's when he appears, the push he needed to become the dark knight, Gotham's very own hero. Based of the youngest Wayne's favourite animal, the bat.

[deepdisireslonging]

A Party for Two

With another Wayne holiday gala in the bag, the Reader is happy to finally be home and out of her shoes. Both she and Bruce are exhausted, but he’s been living up to the flirting playboy persona all evening, and she wants him to finish all that teasing.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

Warnings/Promises: holiday fluff, Smut (fingering, p.i.v, creampie)

Word Count: 1800

Note: This fic is inspired by “Christmas Party for Two” by Brandy. This turned out really sweet. Please reblog and comment to let me know how you liked it. Happy reading!

You closed the bedroom door behind you and leaned against it with a sigh. Bruce had already lost his suit jacket and tie. He toed off his shoes before kneeling to undo the buckles on your heels. You groaned with relief to feel plush carpet under your toes. His hand slid up your calf. He kissed your knee before rising to his feet.

Draping your arms over his shoulders, you asked, “why do we do these parties again?”

“For the economic benefit of Gotham.” He paused to scrape together another reason. “To keep up appearances.”

You lightly glared at him from under your eyelashes.

“Because Gotham needs us to.”

The groan you let out acquiesced to that, but reiterated how much you hated it. “Would the world fall apart if we flew to London next Christmas? Or Alaska?”

“Those are,” he raised an eyebrow at you, “two very different destinations. Why would you want- You know why we can’t.”

“But Damian’s doing fine.” You smoothed your palm over his cheek. He leaned into your touch, turning so he could kiss your wrist. “If he gets any taller he could wear your gear. Gotham’s underworld wouldn’t know the difference.” You kissed under his jaw, slow and nuzzling. “You deserve a break.”

Bruce didn’t have a quick reply. He pressed his lips to your forehead, inhaling the scent of your perfume still lingering after the bustle of the gala. Quick and sharp, he inhaled to answer. Then he turned and walked further into the room. “We can’t, Y/N.”

You slumped against the door. “Why not?”

“Because of Murphey’s law… and my usual track record with luck. The year we take a break would be the year that Damian would need all the back up he could get. And we would be hours away in London… or Alaska.” He unclicked the cufflinks at his wrists and put them away. “We need to be here for the major holidays because of the crowds. It’s when Gotham is at most risk.”

You took off your jewelry too, breathing with the freedom of not being weighed down with the gems. “Not if we plan it now. We pick a place. Plan every day down to the second with plenty of down-time built in. You have a Justice Leage Boom Tube built nearby before we arrive. And there you go: you can be back in Gotham in seconds. Then there’ll be an extra Boom Tube for future missions. And it’s not like Damian couldn’t call anybody else in the League if he really needed the help.” With a grin you took over Bruce’s attempt to undo his shirt buttons. Once his shirt was free, you slipped it off his shoulders and let your hands linger over his skin. You especially paid attention to his thick arms and the strength of his waist.

He squinted at you. “You’ve thought about this for a while.”

“Maybe.”

He caught your hands before they could drift down to his belt. “And you’re handsy. Not that I mind,” he added with a boyish tilt of his head, “but it’s a dangerous thing when you’ve set your mind to a plan.”

“Oh, I’m dangerous?” You rolled your eyes. He grinned as you poked him in the chest. “You’re the one who couldn’t keep his hands to himself all night. We’ll be all over the tabloids tomorrow with how ‘handsy’ you were.”

A bit of his playboy persona showed up in his smile. “What? I couldn’t help it. I like you in that dress.”

With a scoff, you walked back over to your bureau. “You like me in every dress.”

“Yeah. And?”

He slid up behind you before you could reach back for your zipper. You looked at him in the mirror. “I know you, playboy Bruce Wayne. What you really like is me out of the dresses.”

He hummed, pressing his lips to your shoulder. “That too.” Holding you close, he met your gaze in the reflection. “It’s too far out to make any promises.”  Softly, he continued, “but I’ll check the locations of existing teleports and see what we can do.” Bruce nuzzled his nose between your shoulder blades. “Will that be enough for now?” His arms wrapped around your waist.

Tugged back into his torso, you couldn’t turn to face him. All you had was the reflection in your mirror. How he kept half his face below the curve of your shoulder. The glow of his eyes meeting yours with his silent plea and lingering exhaustion. Your heart ached to see the dark circles there. “Yes. For now.” You patted his hands at your waist. “But we will take a vacation sooner rather than later.” Inhaling deeply, you let out a slow breath as you felt your own body rebel at the thought of standing for a minute longer. “Now, if you don’t mind Mr. Wayne, I would really like to get off my feet.”

“Of course, Mrs. Wayne.”

Next thing you knew, he was dragging down your zipper and slipping your dress straps down your arms.

“Bruce?”

“Hmm?”

“I thought we were going to bed.”

“We will. Just helping you out of your dress.”

You rolled your eyes, thinking back to your earlier observation. Fighting a grin, you stood still as he also unhooked your bra and slipped down your garters and panties. “Are you going to wrap me in my pj’s too?”

“No.”

You yelped as he lifted you into the air. The sheets were cool under you as Bruce stretched himself over your body. He radiated heat. It smothered you in the best of ways as he pinned you to the bed and began to suck a mark into the curve of your neck. Keening, you arched into him. He grunted into your mouth as your leg slid up and down his before crossing over the small of his back. The more he mouthed across your body and down over your breasts, the more you needed. But his hands kept your wrists in place. You knew he liked to watch your hands claw the air, unable to touch him. He knew what each flex and curl of your fingers meant. How when you spread your hand wide right before it went limp meant you were dripping and he could really start to play. Bruce let go; you stayed like he laid you, stretched out for his viewing. He sucked his middle finger into his mouth before dragging it through your slick. But he hummed to find you soaked.

“Darling –”

“Hmm?”

“You’re wearing too much.”

“I thought you liked this suit?”

You teased a glare towards him. “Mhmm. But it’ll look better on the floor.”

He nodded. “Oh. Is that what you were trying to get rid of earlier while you complained about my… antics this evening?”

“Mhmm. Isn’t this what you wanted when you started that at the gala?” You reached one hand down to your sex, curling two fingers into your heat while your other hand gripped your breast. You closed your eyes as Bruce’s vision tunneled to the sight of your slick glistening around your fingers. You heard him fumble with his belt before the soft rustle of fabric told you the suit was gone and forgotten. When your eyes opened, your mouth watered.

Bruce held his cock in one hand, gently stroking it as he watched you work yourself over.

You stopped, making him whine. Curling your fingers to draw him in, you held them up for him to take into his mouth. While he sucked up your essence, you drew him further onto the bed till he hovered over you again. He moaned around your fingers as you wrapped your hand over his on his cock. While you stroked, his eyes fell shut. Bruce moaned your name, leaning forward into your touch. But when his breath began to stutter, he batted your hand away.

“Easy, baby.”

“Darling, please.” You gasped as his hands spread wide over your inner thighs. When they squeezed, you tossed your head back into the sheets. “Come on, Bruce, fill me up.”

“Nuh-uh. Gonna burst if I do that now.” He curled his fingers and scissored them to open your channel. “I want to watch you cum first.”

If you had a retort, it died on your tongue when his thumb began to circle your clit in time with his fingers thrusting within you. He leaned down to catch your nipples between in lips in turns. Stretched out as his was, he rutted against the bed while you dug your fingers into his hair. Your vision began to haze over. By the time you were fighting to keep your eyes open, Bruce’s fingers were relentless. He mouthed at the hollow of your throat as you came. As you whimpered out his name, he smiled against your skin.

You were still dazed when he filled you. The stretch of him had you clinging to every bit of his body that you could get your hands on. And still you cried out when he began to move.

He kept his face close to yours. It gave you an unrivaled access to the quiet pants and moans that filtered through his lips. Bruce was a private lover. Only you had heard him like this. And only you would ever feel the way his back muscles rippled and flexed under your hands. The playgirls who’d had access to him before you had the masked version of Bruce. They took home with them stories that were nothing more than gossamer baseless dreams. But the Bruce you had in your arms now was true. He could hide nothing from you. Not the bruises or scars that littered his body. Nor the way he leaned into your every touch; even when your nails came into play when he really had you on edge. If you could, you would imprint your own fingerprints into his skin to show him how much you loved him, how you appreciated that he took care of you and let you take care of him, and how much you loved what he was doing to you.

Bruce groaned into the sheets next to your head. His body rippled before his release flooded your sex. As he fought for air, you rolled your hips to chase the ends of your own release, and to help him down. With a sigh, you nuzzled into the curve of his neck.

He pulled the sheets over you both as sleep began to flutter your vision.

“I’ll talk to Clark tomorrow. See if we can’t get some coverage for Gotham for a few days. Sooner rather than later.”

“Hmm.” You draped you arm across his chest and let yourself begin to sleep away. “Can I plan for a private New Years Eve party for us?” “No promises. But I’ll see what I can do.”

***

Master List

Other Wayne-Family Holiday Fics:

Batfam: Imagine Thanksgiving

Midnight Vibrations (Dick Grayson, New Years, S)

Hickey Victory (Dick Grayson, F)

Maybe One Day - Red Hood x Nurse!OC | (Finished)

       Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

The Kissing Thief:  (S) Y/N gets fed up with Dick Grayson hiding mistletoe all over the manor, and suggests an alternate activity. The ‘alternate activity’ continues all year. No plot, just smut and fluff. [Series Masterlist]

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

Drastic.

《Clark Kent/Superman x Reader HEADCANONS》

-

"Ohoho~!" You laugh mockingly, sweet. Prideful and arrogant as you stand beside the reporter. "I'm glad to have met you, Mr. Reporter.. Maybe will see each other soon!" You chirped, soft and gentle as you wave him off, heading into the limousine.

I swear there's a fic of like Wayne!Reader out there that's shipped with Clark! I swear!

Also! I think it would be fun that the reader was the "comedic-villaness" troupe since the show is so "shoujo-esk".

I would see Wayne!Reader straight up going to Metropolis to spite Bruce or to "understand" this so called "superman"

Then meeting Clark and just dragging him to expensive places and Clark showing her the simple city life.

VERY HALLMARK LOL

-

"So 'Superman', very... Heroic." You chuckle lightly, easily walking around the roof-top as the "Super-Man" floats beside you, watching you carefully as you shrug at him.

Honestly love this idea of a Spider!Reader just being like Punk-Spider/Ghost and a hint of Miles!

Two heros forced to trust each other without realizing their identity! Miraculous anyone? Jk

Either spider!reader is from another dimension trying to get home. Or lives in the same universe. Personally, I like the first option!

I need this written! Maybe I will one day!

-

[Aight' This has been on my mind since I first posted my old fic! So yeah! Tag me if your inspired and wanna write about my ideas! Or let me know in the comments that yall need these fics! Maybe I'll write them!]

[cas-backwards-tie]

Chapter Four: Desolate Days

Heiress of Gotham

Bruce Wayne x Daughter!Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary: It’s time. The funeral has finally come around. While the expected have shown up, will the unexpected lead to loose threads in your life? It'll certainly raise questions, that's for sure.

Words: 3.7k

Warnings: Funeral, Depression, Threats, Crying, Angst,

Mentions of: Death, Bodies, Trauma,

A/N: While this chapter is angsty, and the next one contains some twists and turns, I promise it'll actually start to become more fun around chapter six once the reader gets settled into her new life!

It wasn't easy, not by any means; a week full of setting up a funeral, at fifteen, for your mother... the only real family you've ever had. Sure, there were close family friends in your life, but they weren't a constant presence, not like her. All that flew out the window when you'd been orphaned, and now, who knows what will become of those relationships. You figure, only time will tell.

As for the actual events, tonight is the viewing, followed by a dinner at a nearby Italian restaurant you guys used to love, and tomorrow morning is the burial. While there'd been lots of talk about who would come and what it would mean to them, and you, the conversation never fully came to any certain conclusion.

You don't know and aren't close with your new siblings, and while from a publicity standpoint it makes sense they should come and show their support, your Father is really the only person who knew your Mother. Even then, how well did he truly know her? The question stands. With all this in mind, you know that Bruce is accompanying you tomorrow, and by extension, Alfred too. That much you're clear on.

Money is a tough subject. Isn't it for everyone? While you weren't rich growing up in Bludhaven, you also weren't in the degree of poverty that some are, either. Nevertheless, funerals you quickly learned, cost a lot of money. You'd think it'd be one thing to bury someone in your backyard (if you had one, that is), or even toss them in the dumpster (not that you'd do that), or even set them afloat on the river and nearest ocean (that either), yet, the government wants their money. That's always what it boils down too, doesn't it? Regardless, Bruce had been suspicious when you brought up paying for the funeral. He offered, and while you'd argued for a good half hour, you'd finally compromised with him.

He wants to pay for the funeral, and you can keep the money you--somehow--have for college. Apparently, he expects you to do that now, as well. Not that college was outside of the question before, but... you still have three years to think about it, don't you? All in all, he let you pick out what you thought your mother would like, which, ultimately sort of became what you'd like... right? Besides the preferences in her will, there was still the matter of some sort of plaque or headstone, obsidian or silver... the works. Trying to keep money in mind, you didn't go crazy, but you did let him deal with it while still trying to give her at least something fairly nice.

It all happened so fast, really. Picking out everything, setting things up, and sending out a message so your family friends would know when and where to show up to pay their respects if they wished to do so. Not many people knew about your recent transfer of guardianship, or rather, to who. And while there had apparently been somewhat of a civil kerfuffle with your mother's best friend in an attempt to waive Bruce of his fatherly duties, Bruce apparently decided to claim custody of you. That's what social services naturally thought was the best fit for you.

"You don't have to go in if you don't want," Dick speaks up from behind you.

Standing outside the doors to the funeral home, you know that all too soon the doors will open up for her viewing and you won't be able to escape. Regardless of how many people show up, you'll be met with stories, jokes, emotions, conversation, and things you're just not ready to handle. Staring at the doors, Damian walks past you, soon followed by Tim as they make their way to the door.

"Sure she does. Maybe not now, but sooner or later you have to," Tim offers you with a sympathetic smile, "otherwise you'll never forgive yourself."

"That's just his regret talking," Jason accuses as he straightens the lapels of his black vest and follows the younger boys. "You do what you want, kid." A pat on the back, he too heads inside, leaving you there, Dick still lingering over your shoulder.

"It's your decision," the Detective reminds you with a sympathetic and encouraging smile before pushing open the doors to the funeral parlor.

Standing there in your short black t-shirt dress, the hem whips in the wind as a storm brews in the distance by the Fawcett-Bludhaven border, eventually destined to head your way, closer to the ocean, no doubt. Though you're adorned by a simple black headband, the accessory doesn't keep your hair from hanging around the frame of your face, eyes glued to the fancy sheen of your church shoes: a pair of black mary-janes. 

"Are you second-guessing?" The gruff voice of your Father emanates from your side and you raise your eyes to meet his face. There's a forlorn and distant look in his eyes as he stares ahead at the double doors leading toward the place you know the two of you will be met with a familiar face.

With a subtle nod, he mirrors your action, a clearing of his throat as he straightens his tie. "I can't say I blame you. Though, I can make you an offer," he proposes. As he turns his head, you're met with knowing blue eyes, a hint of what you swear is mischievousness behind them. "If you ever need to bail, why don't we have some sort of code? A code word, what about that?" He expands, the furrowed brows on your face cluing him onto your thoughtful mentality.

"I have to think about it," you respond quietly, eyes roaming the property. While Bristol is an eclectic part of Gotham for sure, this part of town feels somewhat desolate. The nearest and nicest open-plot cemetery to Bludhaven, it was a compromise on everyone's behalf. Not far enough from Bludhaven to feel unlike home and lack a means of public transportation for those in need, and not one of the buildings in the city that are more mausoleum-like, an option you hadn't wanted to consider. She deserved something better. A rumbling of thunder echoes throughout the landscape, the sky growing dark in the distance; eyes brought to the weather, your mind churns. "What about... 'Blizzard'?" It wasn't totally innocuous, yet it wasn't entirely improbable either.

"It'll definitely be interesting to see how we manage to work that into conversation naturally," Bruce jokes, to which you offer him a quiet chuckle, the inkling of a smile working its way onto the corners of your lips.

"Is that okay?" You ask, unsure if he approves.

"Blizzard it is," the Billionaire agrees, stretching out a hand in a semblance of kinship. With a moment of consideration, it doesn't take long for your hand to meet his in conciliation. With a firm shake, you both turn to enter the parlor side by side.

--------

Hand clutching the prized middle-school graduation gift you'd received from your Mother, a golden chain necklace with a teardrop image of La Virgen on it, you subtly run it back and forth along the chain where it rests on your sternum between your collarbones. Despite uncomfortable conversation and questions, you hadn't needed the code word. The attempt to try and visit your Mother before the service was unfruitful, people having shown up earlier than expected, others wanting to set up and you consequently helping like the obedient little girl you often were. Nevertheless, even now with only family members remaining, you still stand at a distance where only her hands propped up on her waist are visible.

Bruce had gotten by through making conversation, trying to get to know you and your acquaintances through their association and knowledge, though their questions often turned on him. Upon the revelation that you're not only now, but always have been a Wayne dawned on them. The natural questions would tend to follow. 'How well did you know her? Were you close to her?' As much as the Playboy would love to admit he didn't know your Mother on the level it would seem most people assumed, he also knew that sort of answer might tarnish any image of your Mother that these people already had in mind. Hence, he tended to use his usual tactics of evasion in a similar manner to any gala he'd attend.

The boys ended up doing recon in some sense, all in their own versions. Damian had intended to simply find a nice corner to sit in and text Jon about the plans for their next hangout and fill him in on the dreadful activities he's been put up to on the behest of his new 'sister'. If he could even call you that. Tim hadn't been filled in on the situation concerning your little expedition with Jason and what the elder had found during that time, so when Dick naturally seemed curious and a little too snoopy for his taste in concern of the event, it was only upon questioning his brother that he found out about the circumstances.

Dick went into this with the hopes of finding out information on your family, on what you all knew, the type of people you were, and what they knew specifically about you and your Mom. That much cash laying around even with the excuse of not trusting banks, in Bludhaven of all places, was ridiculous. Especially for the job he dug around and found out your Mother had. Therefore, he took to subtly interrogating people under the guise of attempting to get to know his new little sister better. 

Jason had intended to go only on the purpose of supporting you, and watching his family in suspect, considering they've all seemed dubious of your Mother and your family's involvement in some sort of criminal activity. While he'd been curious, watching you, talking to you, he's found that there's probably not much further whatever 'secret' your family is hiding goes. Sometimes people do things they need to do to survive, and if he's heard any stories about your Mother this evening, he'd suspect that's it.

Damian eventually caught wind of Grayson's not-so-subtle tactics of questioning people, and decided his evening would be much more fruitful doing exactly what his brother was doing, only in a more professional manner. After all, once he'd rounded the parlor he'd seen his Father doing the same thing in his own fashion, therefore, he can't be mad at them for doing the same when he's the one who's supposed to be setting the example, right?

Oblivious to your new family's motives, you try and work up the courage to say goodbye to her... to her face. Evading the happy images that filter through wild transitions on television's slideshow to the right, you run a thumb over the memorium card you'd taken. Even if they were for everyone else, you still wanted one. Room practically empty, you finally take the leap and close the space between you and the open casket.

Immediately you have to avert your eyes. It's... too painful. Yet, another curious part of you tempts you to take another look. Upon second glance it simply appears as if she's sleeping. Peacefully. There's no lacerations or marks, no sign of any sort of ill-wrought event, and yet, you know the wiser. "I hate this," you whisper through your teeth, jaw clenching in an attempt to keep your tears at bay. "It's not fair. I don't know why... why it had to be you." With a sniffle and a heavy sigh that bobs your shoulders, you reach out and place a small hand on her larger, and eerily cold hand. "I wish I could ask you, that I could talk to you- that you could tell me why- why you never told me! I don't- I don't want to do this but I know I have to, and he's giving me... all you ever wanted for me. I-" Breath coming quicker, you have to force yourself to speak the next words, determined not to break down in front of everyone. "Te quiero mucho, mamá, te extraño, y vas a recordar para siempre." With a gentle squeeze to her hand, you turn and head for the doors, eyes downcast as you avoid everyone.

--------

Somehow, the universe always reflected its events; while it’d been mostly thunder and heat lightning the night prior, this morning the dark clouds have been pouring rain. Alfred had gotten you up, though really you hadn’t slept much in anticipation of what today would hold. Having been dressed for some time now, all you’ve done is sit at the window seat and stare outside, watching the rain pelt the earth repeatedly, unyielding in its triumph. You can’t help but think it’s like life, forceful until the end, when it eventually wanes and succumbs to a stop. Maybe you’re overthinking, but with everything that’s been going on… you don’t think you can help it.

“Hey,” your Father’s voice calls from the door, a gentle knock on the wood follows as he continues to open it and step through the threshold. “Are you ready? Breakfast is waiting, and then Alfred’s gonna take us,” he informs, “the boys are going to join for breakfast, but then it’ll just be us, alright?” 

Before he can get too far into the room you rise from the window seat and tear your attention away from the gardens. With a nod, you meet him halfway and follow downstairs.

Breakfast is mostly silent, as you’re sure no one is quite certain what to say. If they could say anything, that is. Hell, even Damian doesn't have a snarky remark, and Dick doesn't try and make meaningless conversation. It all comes and goes far faster than you'd imagined, though the food was delicious. With your departure and solemn looks from your newfound siblings, Alfred pulls the Rolls Royce up to a gentle stop before the Manor's fancy double doors.

It was hard to believe she was in there. Yes, you'd picked out the coffin, yes you'd seen her at the viewing, and yet... this is your Mother. The woman who birthed you, who fed you, who took care of you year after year, and was there for you no matter what. And now... she's gone.

It doesn't feel real. The rain pattering against the umbrella Bruce holds up over you. All the people who sit and stand opposite of the priest as he goes about his rites. Of course there came time for the eulogy, and while there was the option of making one yourself, you couldn't find it within yourself to do so. Like Tim had mentioned, this could be something you may regret later, but in this moment it feels like too much. There's a dull queasiness that never leaves your stomach as you stand, eyes cast downward as your hands lay clasped before you. Rain, muck, and mud cling to your black mary-jane shoes, the ground now beginning to flood as the soil's beared all it can soak up for the next coming weeks. 

People come and go, they give their well wishes and hopes for your sake, and yet you can't really put any of it to mind or manner as all you can focus on is the growing emptiness within you. This isn't how things were supposed to go. You weren't supposed to be burying your parent... not this soon. That's not how it works! 

It's the call of your name that stirs you from your thoughts. Eyes raising to the familiar face, you can't help but feel your eyes widen with the shock and astonishment that they had the audacity to visit... to stay. Yes, he wasn't a stranger; yet an acquaintance isn't necessarily a friend. The boy lifts his hands to cup one of yours between his. "I'm so sorry to hear what happened, Mi Amor, I'm always here for you, sabes," Saul says. Though there's a sympathetic look in his eyes, you don't trust him one bit. Not after he'd taken one opportunity after another and gotten trapped up with the man behind him: Antonio 'Angel' Marin. Sure, you'd dumped Saul before he'd become affiliated with the notorious Bludhaven mob boss, but it didn't do him any favors holding company like that. 

As Saul leaves you and heads toward the line of black cars along the cemetery road, you dread the man next in line. "It's an unfortunate thing, losing a mother," Angel speaks, "looks like luck had its way with you though, getting you out." From the outside it might seem inappropriate, or perhaps simply a mistaken and poorly judged comment, but you know better. Lips pursing, jaw tightening, you don't dare let your hands form into fists as you meet the man's eyes. 

His oily face and ratty mustache meet your gaze, and you suddenly feel anger beginning to simmer in your gut. Though you're not sure why. While there'd been a time you may have considered him a family friend, a protector, a genius, and a revolutionary... those times have gone. He hadn't done your family wrong, in fact, he'd done nothing but try to help you and your Mom out of poverty, and yet... there were always strings attached. Neither of you had seen them at first and once you'd wanted out, you'd luckily gotten out without too much of a fight. Thankfully, unlike some of the stories you've heard, and yet, somewhere within you the anger persists. Maybe it's the smug look on his face, his taunting words perhaps, but whatever it is, he irks you.

"Don't go gettin' into any more trouble, ya hear?" His thin voice lets out a wry chuckle and he lays a pat on your shoulder before you can dodge it. Watching him leave with his trail of two or three choice goons behind him, you can't help but feel like he'd only come here for one thing, and one thing only... to taunt you. Was it a warning? A sign? A way of telling you that without his protection you were doomed? Leading a life toward failure? Only to end up like your Mother? No... no, that can't be it. There has to be something else, that can't be it. 

"Do you know him?" Bruce asks, finally speaking up for the first time since the service ended. He'd seen the whole interaction, he knows who that man was... but he doesn't know if you do. Not truly, anyway. Even if the grimace and shiver that'd run up your spine was visible from the way you attempted to evade the evil man's touch. Eyes peering down at you, he's disturbed by the lack of eye contact you make. Maybe he shouldn't be... you haven't been talking or interacting as much as you had been in the days leading up to this, something that's normal, he can only imagine.

"Once," you respond faintly. Eyes coming back to the rolling hills of the cemetery you watch the rain continue to pour. Life doesn't seem to stir here, no sight of sneaky intruders like squirrels, doves, or robins, no other patrons coming to visit their loved ones on a day like this. Thunder cracks overhead, and the diminishing sound of tires on gravel signals the Angel's departure. With a thick swallow, your hands finally ball up into fists. A single tear finally breaches the confines of your eyelid and slips down your cheek. With a heavy sigh you turn, meeting Alfred who stands a few feet behind the both of you. Stomping over to him, you grab the bouquet of flowers you'd all picked up on the way. "If you want to say anything... here," you announce over the sounds of the thunderstorm. Undoing the plastic and rubber bands from the store-bought bouquet, you hand both the men a single flower. Determined that the rest should belong to you, you head over to the grave, uncaring if you get wet any longer as you're no longer under their umbrellas.

Though your teeth hurt from the way your jaw is clenched, you can't help it as the tears start to flow more freely. With everyone gone, you don't mind being here alone. Placing the flowers atop your Mother's casket, your hand lingers on the polished wood while your free hand hangs onto the necklace your Mother had given you. "I can't do this without you," the words come in a whisper, your head almost meeting the wood before you think better of it. You don't want to appear a broken-down mess in front of the men watching. "I don't know what t-to do."

Raindrops soak your hair, coat your dress and shoes, your socks have splashes of water and freshly cut grass, not to mention that your face is covered in a mixture of raindrops and tears. A few moments of silence is all you need before you finally gather the courage to say one last goodbye and turn away, heading down the hill back toward the car before the storm gets worse.

------

"Dick... there's something you should know," Bruce mentions quietly. It's obvious from his behavior that he's upset, that this won't be a long conversation. "Antonio Marin was at her funeral. He came up to her and spoke something cryptic. I asked her about it and she said that she knew him once. I know I asked you all not to dig around, but, this is in your territory and I thought you should know." Evading his son's eye contact, he straightens his tie and sniffs, still clad in his tuxedo from the funeral. "I'll see if I can get any more information out of her, but... I don't want her caught up in this... I don't-" he sighs, finally turning to meet his son's gaze again with a look he's only seen once before, "-I don't want her getting hurt."

"I... understand." With a nod and a sympathetic look upon his face, the younger man stretches out his hand to lay it on his Father's shoulder in a small form of comfort. He knows Bruce well enough to know that anything too grand would steer him away, and while the thought of another child getting hurt at his behest unburies all the trauma Dick knows Jason's death had brought him, Dick knows they can't change the past. "I- we won't let that happen. I promise you that, Dad."

~~~~~~~~

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo

hog taglist: @luvly-writer , @clairese1980

[moonlit-imagines]

warnings:

a/n: me when i externalize my internal DCEU storyline (i like making my OCs reader in a way teehee) also maybe i will make HCs of this reader idk

not requested

You were one of the few faces Barry recognized when he mixed up the timeline so bad. Unfortunately for him, you had no damn idea who this kid was. You looked older, were older. But you were still Bruce’s kid. “Yeah, I can’t do that, Harry.”

“Uh, it’s Barry, but, uh, why not?” He replied, getting a little more frustrated at these converging situations. Getting his powers back, stopping Zod, fixing his mistakes. “I mean, you’re not exactly like my y/n. You’re like, severely badass and somehow even more stoic. And you have a whole army.”

“If what you’re saying about these ‘Kryptonians’ is true, I won’t put my soldiers in danger for a war they can’t win. They’re assassins, but they’re still human.” You explained to the timeline twins. “And I haven’t put on a Batsuit in ages, not that it’d do us much good.”

“Yeah, kid, after y/n’s mom and grandfather died, she gave up on the whole vigilante thing���so did I. The League of Shadows is peaceful, Gotham was saved, and we don’t have all these…what do you call them? Metahumans?” Bruce explained, turning to you. You cracked a smirk and shrugged.

“I’m sorry we can’t be more help, we just aren’t the same people you know.”

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @randomfandomimagine // @summersimmerus // @bad4amficideas // @xoxobabydolls // @evilcr0ne // @amirahiddleston // @sydknee624 // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 //

[slut4thebroken]

“I’m not getting your father’s blessing though. I’d say it’s out of respect for you as an autonomous woman in the 21st century, but it’s more just out of spite.”

Jason 🤝 being Bruce’s #1 hater

[imbadatwrighting]

Sneaky Cat

Requested

I was going to write this as a songfic but changed my mind last minute so it took a little longer than expected. Anyways to the person who asked for this I had to smush some things together I hope that’s alright and the smut lowkey ain’t dat great. Also just started watch future man…do what you want with that information

Pairing: Selina Kyle x Male reader

Tags: NSFW 18+ at the end, sex with plot? (Idk I’ve never read a post with that), Wayne!reader, adopted!reader, sweet!reader, fluff, smut, Bruce and reader having tension, no use of Y/n, 2nd pov, soft dom!reader, brother issues, lowkey rushed to the sex half way through, oral (reader giving), unprotected sex, cream pie, missionary , prolly a lot of spelling errors

“Selina! Have you seen my tie?” Your voice boomed across the whole second floor of the house unintentionally.

“This tie?” your girlfriend of two years asked, holding up a gold tie. She leaned against the door frame staring at you with her classic cat eyes.

A smile plastered on your face, walking towards her. “This is why I love you,” you grinned, reaching down to plant a kiss on her lips and grab the tie.

You could feel the smirk she made through the kiss before breaking it off. “No other reasons?” she asked, a devious smile on her face.

You walked back to your mirror, staring at her through it while you put your tie on. “Not any I can remember I’m afraid.”

She swayed closer to you, wrapping her hands around your waist and maneuvering her head to be beside your shoulder. “That’s too bad. Here I was thinking you loved me for my brilliant ideas,” she pouted before hiding her mouth with your shoulder so you couldn’t see her smile.

A small groan left your lips as you ran your hands through your hair. “I wouldn’t say making me go to this gala was a good idea.”

“You own the most stocks and are a co-owner of Wayne Enterprises, I’m afraid you have to go.”

You turned around to face her, slowly wrapping your arms around her waist. Her hands moved up to your chest, smoothing out a wrinkle. “You only want me to go so you can steal valuables from the guests, my dearest.”

Selina huffed before turning away towards the door. Her hips swayed as she walked away. “Let’s not leave Alfred waiting much longer mi amor,” she grinned.

You stood still for a moment, unsure of what you heard was right. You ran towards Selina, observing her eyes for any sense of sarcasm or lying.

“Do not tell me Bruce will be there too,” you spoke slowly, walking down the steps of your mansion with Selina. The sounds of heeled shoes hitting marble, echoed in the area.

“If I remember correctly, your parents gave Wayne Enterprises to both you and Bruce and he still plays apart in it,” she replied hastily, not caring enough to make eye contact.

“When he’s not playing good guy in his bat costume, sure, but all he cares about is fighting crime over and over again, he cares little about what happens to Wayne Enterprises or even me!”

“If I remember correctly you fight crime too.” Selina walked faster, reaching the first floor before you, grabbing a necklace on the marble counter.

She stared at the black diamonds shinning under the light, eventually moving her hand with the necklace towards you, gesturing you to put it on her.

You sighed, grabbing the necklace. “When I was with his all I did was stare at the computers in his little cave.”

“You still do,” Selina hummed.

“That different,” you grumbled. “When I was working with him, no one even knew my name or I was a vigilante at all. You had no idea who Umbra Mortis was after I told you. Or that I was his brother.”

“I do now. People know who Umbra Mortis is now.” Selina turned to face your towering figure after felling the necklace be latched on.

“They still don’t know I’m his brother. He refuses to tell people I’m his brother because I was adopted.”

“That’s not true,” Selina said, following you out the door.

“How’d you know? You ask him?” You smirked.

“Maybe,” Selina replied, before grabbing you arm, only being a couple feet away from the limo containing your brother and his butler. “Listen be nice to him and you might even get a special treat,” she grinned, pulling you down into a kiss.

It felt longer that it was but you savored every second of it. You observed the taste of cherries that presented itself onto your tongue.

You hummed as she broke away from the the kiss slowly. You wished you didn’t have to go to the gala, instead staying home with Selina watching her favorite movie in bed.

You opened the door of the limo, letting Selina get in before you while you held the door. You could hear pleasantries given from where you stood as you desperately wished you would have to get in the limo with you older brother.

You could feel your brothers gaze on you as you entered the limo.

“Greeting Master Wayne,” Alfred nodded, quickly driving off. You smiled at the man, he always had called you by your last name since you could remember. It wasn’t that you weren’t close to him, he just wanted to always show his upmost respect towards you.

“Brother,” Bruce greeted. It didn’t seem like the type of greeting you would give your brother, more like a greeting to a stranger.

A curt nod was given to Bruce as you intertwined your hand with Selina’s soft hands. Your fingers played with her rings that she stole from multiple museums.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Bruce brought up, eyes still trained on your figure. Your eyes broke away from Selina’s perfect figure.

“Whose fault was that?” you murmured, rolling your eyes. Selina’s heeled foot quickly hit your leg in annoyance. Your eyes quickly looked over to your girlfriend before moving back to look at Bruce.

Bruce paid no mind to your comment. “I see,” he commented, not saying anything else.

A wave of awkwardness took over the limo as the two brothers or interact with each other, or at least one of them did.

“Talk to him, querido,” Selina whispered in your ear, running her nails down your suit.

You rolled your eyes not looking at your girlfriend. “What are you doing here Bruce?” you say bluntly, being forced to say something.

“I’m going to a gala, brother. It’s good for my image.”

“Alfred making you go?”

“It seems you know me too well brother.”

You hummed. “Well, after having to be around you, most of my life, it seems I have to. If not, I might have become a worse brother than you.”

Selena scoff at you as Bruce squinted his eyes. “I gave you no reason to say I am a bad brother.”

An irked expression fell on your face as you glared lightly at your brother. “You have multiple recent to being a bad brother! You left me on a mountain by myself, at fifteen!”

An annoyed expression fell on Bruce’s face. “How many times do I have to tell you it was an accident, I thought you already left,” he said, fingers massaging his temple.

“How am I supposed to believe that when just an hour before you were screaming at me and wishing I wasn’t in your life,” you glared, feeling Selena’s hands down your back and comfort and also as a warning.

“Boys, enough of this, we’re already at this gala so pretend you like each other,” Selina smirked, an obvious fake smile before elegantly getting out of the limo.

You spared Bruce no mind as you got out after your girlfriend, you hand finding the perfect resting spot on her waist.

“Just talking to me and a couple guests won’t get anything you’re hoping for tonight,” she whispered, slowly pushing your arms off her waist, a smile still on her face. “Talk to Bruce or you’re getting nothing tonight.”

With that same grinning smile she walked off, most likely towards the bar full of drunk old fish man with pockets full of money.

With a sigh you slowed your walking, letting Bruce catch up to you. “My apologies for my inappropriate acts Bruce.”

“Don’t act like that,” he said, talking in a whisper, occasionally nodding his head at a couple men and woman.

“Act like what?” you ask.

“Like we’re not brothers. You haven’t talked to me like a brother since you were fifteen.”

“You throw me in the side Bruce, you always have. I had no reason to treat you like a brother when you were too busy to acknowledge me.”

Bruce looks at you with an unreadable expression on his face before taking a deep breath.

You went to scoff before he spoke up. “I’m sorry,” he said is a hushed voice. It almost made you stop in your tracks. Not once has your brother ever apologized to you. Not when he pushed you down the stairs, or when he played a mean April fools day prank on you.

You stayed silent for a minute smiling when contractors and other business partners walked by.

You didn’t care about them at the moment, your first thought was on your brother. Then of course Selina forty feet away at the bar.

“I’m sorry as well… brother,” you spoke, slowly walking away from Bruce towards Selina.

“I talked to him and even said sorry,” you smile, hand going up to her shoulders.

She turned around staring up into your eyes. “Considering Bruce looks like a kicked puppy I would say you did it like you were supposed to.”

You frowned at her words. “Listen it’s the best you’re going to get out of me tonight, now can we just go home?”

Selina digs a gold watch out of her purse, looking at the time. “We’ve been here for no more than ten minutes so unfortunately not mi amor.”

“You’re just being mean at this point,” you groan walking to wherever Selina sways to.

“At least an hour then we can leave,” she smirks pulling you to the dance floor. “For now, we dance.” She puts one arm around your neck and the other into your hand and she waltz’s to the relaxing music.

Your eyes met her sparkling black ones as waves of emotion overflowed your body. She made you fall in love with her every day.

“I can’t stay here Selina,” you growled in her ear.

She paid no mind to you as she twirled and danced. She was enjoying this and you both knew it.

“Selina,” you growled once again. Your heart was practically beating out of your chest.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait. I’m not going home because you’re horny.”

Your hand traveled down her waist, lightly grazing her ass. Her subtly eyed you, eyes narrowing down. “Relax my love, no one is watching,” you whispered, softly biting her ear as you leaned down.

You could feel Selina get hotter as you continued to dance on the dance floor. Your thoughts were not on Bruce nor anyone else but Selina. You didn’t care about anything except Selina.

“You’re playing a dirty game baby,” Selina murmured in your ear, hands gripping your body.

“I wouldn’t have to if we left.”

Selina stayed silent once more, like she was contemplating the answer she would choose. “…fine,” she murmured.

A grin fell on your face before you dragged her out of the gala, you opened the door of a rentable limo. You didn’t have to say any words to the man. Almost everyone in Gotham knew where you lived. It was hard to miss it.

Selina sat down close to you, kissing your neck. You exhaled a breath, holding her waist. “If you keep it up, I’m going to get a boner before we get home,” you groan.

She seemed to only hum and that, keeping up with the original pace.

The drive home seemed longer than anything before. It felt like the limo driver was going slower on purpose. Selina didn’t let it stop her as she spread hickeys all over your neck.

The white limo stopped at the entrance to your mansion. Selina and you quickly rushed out, leaving behind cash for the driver. Poor man must have been a little traumatized.

You pushed Selina through the door into your room. Her hot breath could be felt on your face.

You unzipped her black dress before she reach for her necklace. “No,” you breathed out. “Keep it on.”

You could feel her lightly moan against your neck as you removed your tie and shirt.

You hoisted Selina up before gently throwing her on the bed.

“Fuck,” you moaned out. Crawling on the bed to be face to face with your girlfriend. “You’re so hot baby.”

Her hands reached up to your neck, pulling you down into her. The kiss was sloppy; full of lust. Her legs wrapped around your unclothed waist.

You head traveled down kisses her neck towards her tits. She grabbed onto your hair as you left a trail of kisses to her clit.

Your hot breath only made her wetter. You licked her clit slowly before making eye contact with her. She let out a breathy moan as you stared her down. Your mouth latched onto her clit sucking and licking like a mad man.

“Fuck,” she moaned, gripping your hair harder. You let out a quick sound before resuming your task.

“God I love your pussy,” you rasped, sticking two fingers into her drenched hole. Her shaky legs wrapped around your head.

Your fingers thrusted in and out of her as your teeth lightly grazed her clit. She could feel her orgasm already coming. “Baby,” she groaned, quickly tapping your head. You removed your mouth from her wet clit as you looked up at her.

“I need it in me,” she whispered, almost like she was embarrassed. She could hear you undoing your zipper as soon as the words came out of her mouth.

Her legs released you from her grip as she pulled you up to be face to face with her. She could feel your hard cock rubbing against her clit. A soft moan came out of her as her arms wrapped around your neck.

“I’ve wanted you all day, baby,” you groan, lips attacking her own as you slowly entered her wet pussy.

“I know,” she smirked out before moaning loudly as you thrusted in and out of her. “God, I forgot how big you were.”

Your arm traveled down to her waist giving you a better angle to thrust into her. “You’re so tight, honey,” you breath out, hair falling down on your eyes.

Nails grazed down your back as you thrusted harder into your girlfriend. Her girlfriend arched your back letting out a whimper. “I’m close baby,” she whimpered feeling her orgasm about to come.

“Just a little more. You can hold out baby,” you grunted, pounding into her at an inhuman pace. Your cock overwhelming her senses.

Her legs shook as her head turned to the side, giving you a better view of her neck. “I’m close, I’m so fucking close,” she panted.

Your hand gripped her waist tighter, feeling her slowly get tighter. “Let go baby,” you muttered, feeling your release about to come.

A high pitched moan left your girlfriend as her pussy tightened around you and legs vibrated rapidly. You gave a few more quick thrusts before coming inside her.

Your moved you hand to move your girlfriend face towards you. Her fucked out eyes looked at you as she panted hard.

You slowly pulled out of her before kissing the top of her head. “I love you,” you sighed, getting up to clean her up.

“Bath or no bath?” you asked, grabbing a hand towel from the bathroom.

“No bath,” she grinned weakly, pulling you towards her. “Just want you.”

“You got me baby,” you smirked, handing her one of your comfy shirts after cleaning her up the best you could.

She slipped on your shirt, it draped over her figure as she huddled towards your figure getting in bed.

You looked at the shirt, too big for your girlfriend. “God just looking at you turns me on.” You kissed your smiling girlfriend.

“You’re handling that issue yourself.”

You smiled harder at her. You didn’t care about Bruce in the moment or fighting crime, just caring about marrying the girl laying next to you.

[invincibledc]

I got a request for mute twin reader imagine them getting mad at someone in the family and cuz barely anyone is fluent in sign language (except for damian) they just sign the whole time they are mad to make them not understand and damian of course joins their little plan by only talking to the twin in arabic

“Angry Silence”

Batfamily x Mute! Twin reader

Summary: getting angry at a certain first Robin, you started to sign angrily and fast. Losing dick Grayson quickly as he tried to figure out what you are saying. Damian contributes to your anger.

Keys:Green=arabic Italics=signing

“I hate you! I can’t believe you played my favorite tv show without me you dick head!” The twin of Damian Al Ghul-Wayne, you, signed angrily and quickly in the fast of the first ever Robin. Dick Grayson. Dick had played your favorite tv show you wanted to watch later when you came back from school with your beloved twin. The most reason to be angry was that it was live, keyword. Live. So it passed when you came home when dick could’ve saved it to play again.

Dick looked confused and worry as your face was red, angry is what he sensed. But he couldn’t tell what you were saying. Looking over to Damian for help. Damian scoffed, understanding his twin’s anger.

“How evil of you Grayson.” He says in Arabic. You nodded quickly. Now dick was even more confused, frowning as Bruce and the other boys came in.

“Ooooh, I see dickie bird got the double troubles on him.” Jason says with a smug grin.

“Jason shush!” Dick says, looking away from the two ten year olds glaring at him.

“He’s idiotic, isn’t he sibling?” Damian says turning his head at you. Crossing his arms as well.

“Very.” You signed at him

“WHAT ARE YOU GUYS SAYING?!” Dick says, he was going to lose his head if he didn’t know what his siblings were talking about.

Only for the twins to look at each other, smirk and walk off laughing. A time laugh, calculated. Dick felt his ego drop, he wanted to know too!

Chasing after the twins he yelled out for mercy.

“PLEASE I’LL DO ANYTHING, JUST LET ME IN YOUR SECRET.”

[supermenz]

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.” 

[cinnamoodles]

FIC IDEA (do not steal)

um so if i hypothetically wrote a clark kent x wayne!fem!reader fic with lots of angst and an accidental pregnancy and galas and hot clark… would you read it?

[k1tk4ttt]

How it feel to finally accept and embrace the cringe of reading x reader fics

[bloodyboi]