#selina kyle & reader

[prettiest-thing-in-the-morgue]

PULL ME IN

summary: due to Bruce distancing himself from reading and seeing other women - batfam has to watch their mom willow away.

pt 2

For the twenty-five years, Bruce and Name have been married together - Alfred has never seen Name so withdrawn - so detached . He watches every morning how Name's frail body maneuvers around the kitchen making her own breakfast -

God knows how many times he's asked that stubborn woman to allow him to cook for him but she has always refused him with a quiet smile and a wave of hand. He watches her glide around the kitchen- a woman of once poise and grace reduced to her fumbling with simply holding a cereal box.

Alfred could never pin point where it had all went wrong in their marriage - they were both high-school sweethearts- their marriage was beautiful- he'd know because he had honored it himself. To see them so distant aches his heart.

Alfred knows Bruce has a mission - to save Gotham- a mission that seems ever lasting - a mission that had consumed him entirely to the point it took him over . It took away his relationship with his kids and his own wife .

Alfred would always shoot him disapproving looks when he sees Bruce being too flirty with Talia and Selina - he blesses Name's heart for loving Damian all the same like she has with all her other kids but Alfred notices since then she is virtual never in the same place with Bruce.

She no longer goes to galas anymore , no longer makes public appearances - maybe its because Bruce always had a different arm candy every other night. It's gotten so bad that even the kids started realizing this - Damian , upon realizing his birth had broken down in Name's arms one night - pleading with her to love him - that he's sorry for being born.

Alfred remembers Name cradling the young boy in her arms all night and assuring him he's the best thing Bruce ever made and that she would never blame him for Bruce's actions. Since then - the young boy has always stuck to Name - every morning, he'd affectionately hand her daily medicine and would always help her wrap a shawl over her shoulders.

Tim and Bruce began arguing - particularly because Bruce starting leaving the massive work of W.E for Tim to handle- it came to a head one night when Name and Bruce argued for two hours straight. He remembered how raw her voice was when she yelled at Bruce for overworked her poor son - that he's young and deserves to live and experience his teenage years.

Bruce had argued that Tim had wanted this - that this was what being Robin was about. Jason- god knows Jason and Bruce doesn't get along - ever since what happened to Joker but they argue even worse when it boils down to Name .

Jason was a child primarily raised by Name - she taught him to trust and showed him everything he knew - down to ironing his shirt to tying his shoelace - Name was the mother Jason never had and God could damn for all he cares but couldn't stand to watch Bruce treat her like she was an option because she wasn't - not to him or his brothers.

Jason always made it a point to call Bruce out for his own hypocrisy, himself and Damian always teamed up against him, especially when he was being too flirty with Selina or some random eye candy.

" I suggest you back off harlot , my mother might not kill you, but I will " - Damian when Bruce and Selina were flirting together on patrol.

" I don't give a fuck if ma begs me not to put a bullet in your head , the next damn time I see you talking about her like that I won't hesitate to skin you alive " - Jason when he caught some arm candy bragging to her friends how the 'Bruce Wayne' took her out on a date in front of Name.

God if anyone argues more with Bruce in this household was Dick - Dick was their first child and a child whom lost everything and yes Bruce may of made him robin but name made him dick grayson - bless that woman's heart for having to deal with his tantrums and outbursts when he was younger -

But that woman despite not birthing him was his mother - the woman who literally hugged him everynight to go to bed , the same woman who made his suit for prom by hand and also the same woman he goes to for advice and comfort - safe to say when he heard what Bruce was doing - they argued non stop-

" For god sake, Bruce, you're destroying us - you're destroying our family, and you don't even care." - Dick when Bruce had called you useless because you couldn't walk up a stairs anymore.

Someone from the outside might think they're dramatic, but ever since Bruce started distancing himself from Name and going out with God knows who , Name has fallen into a deep depression - a type of depression that ensnared them in their deep claws and deprive them of what little happiness and energy they have left.

Most days , Name sits on a swing outside and just exists- barely eats , barely talks anymore - how can they ? How can one fathom to be happy when their own spouse is out cheating on you with different people and to make matter worse the public condones it - even more so enables him.

Always publishing some new article of which new model or actress can become worthy of being Bruce's wife as if she doesn't exist. Alfred swallows as he watches her tonight - they're sat stiffly in a velvet love seat , a faint smile on her face, Damian is resting his head on their shoulder, showing them his latest art piece while quietly talking about his day.

Behind her, jason embraces her in a backhug , head resting on her head - his hands sometimes play with the loose strands. Tim quietly sits beside her , his hand holding her free hand - now and again he'd squeeze it . Dick is sat next to Damian on the love seats' arm rest as he prepares her nightly medicine.

Even if the public and her own husband loathes her, name still has the love of her kids and Alfred as always. Suddenly, the large oak doors of the living room are pushed open - the vibrant warmth interrupted as Bruce steps inside .

Damian quiets - everyone looking at Bruce except for Name - she has taken it to state at her hands. " It's time for patrol" Bruce says grufly . No one responds but reluctantly leaves Name side , Jason side hugs her one last time before leaving .

" Yeah, whatever you say, geaser," He says as he shoves Bruce out of his way to go to the cave . Damian glares at his father , " Hopefully, things are taken seriously on this patrol " he insinuated- knowing eyes glaring right at his father disapproving.

Bruce ignores them and stares at name, " Make dinner before we leave " he orders before promptly walking away. Name says nothing - too numbed out a long while to even react. Dick and Alfred himself curses him while Tim is glaring at the closing door harshly .

" Ma I'll order us something don't stress yourself " Tim assures her while ordering Uber eats for them on his phone . Name doesn't say anything but sends him a small smile. " I can't believe I raised that boy," Alfred murmurs as he shakes his head in disappointment .

Bruce may not realize it now but it's too late to fix anything - too late to pull his wife back in and live the happy life they once had - its too late to repair their broken family since the glue that's stuck them all together is fading away .

ty for reading, please like + comment + share !!!

pls do not hate a on queens talia & selina they won't do this , theyre too girlboss for bruce anyways

[iydiamartinx]

ALL IT TAKES IS ONE BAD DAY

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

divider by: @cafekitsune word count: 1.1k synopsis: After a spending a year in a loveless marriage, you find your husband with another woman. warning: cheating, bruce is an asshole

The manor had never been a home. Not truly.

Its towering halls echoed with silence, its antique chandeliers glinting like frozen stars, untouchable and cold. You’d tried, in the beginning, to warm it—fresh flowers in the vases, candles lit at dinner, even soft music playing in the background some evenings.

But Bruce never noticed.

He came and went like a ghost—impeccable in tailored suits and always busy. And when he did speak to you, it was clipped, distant. A nod. A thank you. A hum of acknowledgment as he passed you in the corridor, the same way one might regard an acquaintance and not someone they chose to bind themselves to.

You’d grown used to the solitude. Learned to fill it with books, walks through the garden, dinners eaten in silence. On rare occasions, Alfred would try to bridge the gap, lingering just a moment longer in the room, a small reassurance here and there trying to cover up for his master, but there was no mistaking the disappointment in his eyes every time he saw the way Bruce treated you.

You were a Wayne by name only.

And maybe that would’ve been enough. Maybe you would’ve endured it forever—the cold bed, the colder stares, the knowledge that this union was forged for reputation and power, not love.

But deep inside you felt that hollow aching loneliness, the insecurity of wondering why you weren’t enough. You always dreamed of a love that would consume you, of freedom and adventure. You never thought this might be your life, you played your part well but the posh dresses, the pearls, everything that came with being Bruce Wayne’s wife felt like a cage. 

You never wanted his money, in fact you never even took a penny from him, you were wealthy in your own name. You married him because it was arranged yet you had hoped the two of you could find some middle ground or at least be amicable yet he never even tried.

You he had secrets and you tried to respect it. But there was no mistaking the way he seemed to sneak out in the middle of the night, doing god knows what. How he always seemed too tired or too busy to even attend important functions and meeting, always leaving them to you.

It seemed you finally got your answer. It was late when you returned from the charity gala. You hadn’t expected him to come—he rarely did. But the photographers had still clamoured for pictures, still whispered about Bruce Wayne’s wife, wondering if the man even remembered he had one. 

You tried to ignore the humiliation but sometimes it became too much, like tonight, and you found yourself sneaking away early.

The silence greeted you first when you returned to the manor. Then the soft creak of the stairs under your heels.

The door to the master bedroom was ajar.

At first, it was the flicker of candlelight you noticed. Then the shadow on the wall—two forms, tangled together. And then the soft, breathy laugh. Familiar.

Selina Kyle.

Your throat closed. You stepped closer, silent as a ghost. Your eyes met the scene and for a second, you didn’t breathe. Her mouth was against his neck, one leg hooked over his hip, sheets disheveled. The way she touched him, kissed him, it was clear she knew his body intimately and that this wasn’t the first time.

His hands were on her. His eyes—those usually cold, unreadable eyes—closed with pleasure.

The sound you made must have been small, but it was enough. Bruce’s head snapped up. Selina glanced over her shoulder, entirely unfazed.

You stood in the doorway, lips parted, frozen. Your body refused to move. Your mind, however, was screaming.

A year.

A year of silence and patience and pretending that the chill in his eyes didn’t hurt you. That his absence at every dinner, every event, every attempt you made to be more than a burden, didn’t pierce straight through your ribs.

And this was what he gave you in return.

Bruce didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stared at you like you were the one who’d intruded. Selina at least had the decency to look like she felt at least a little guilty but you didn’t want nor need her pity

It was the silence that broke you more than the act.

Not even the decency to lie.

You didn’t cry. You didn’t scream. You didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you break.

Your gaze flicked from him to Selina then back to him. You tilted your head. “I hope she was worth it.”

Then you turned. Trying to keep the calm and controlled facade, even as the world crumbled around you.

You didn’t look back.

Not even when he called out your name. You’d done everything to keep your sham of a marriage together and you were done.

And for the first time in a year, you were the one who walked away.

You hadn’t even bothered to grab your stuff, you were still in your gala dress as you grabbed the keys to your car, getting ready to get as far away as you could from this place.

“Madame, I’m sure—“ Alfred tried to do as he always did and make it better but for once you were in no mood to listen.

“I don’t care.” You cut off not harshly but firmly. “He’d made it clear since the beginning that he didn’t want this marriage, no matter how hard I tried. I’m done, Alfred. I have more self respect than to stay and continue trying with a man who clearly doesn’t want me and doesn’t respect me. I deserve someone who does,” you finished, voice low but steady, the final word catching ever so slightly on your tongue.

Alfred stood there in the entryway, a halo of warm light behind him, his face drawn with quiet sorrow. He didn’t argue. He only bowed his head slightly in acceptance because what could he say? You were right. You deserved more.

“I’ll have someone collect your things,” Alfred said softly, after a long moment. His voice, always composed, was tinged with quiet regret. “Where should I have them sent?”

You hesitated. Not because you didn’t know—but because saying it aloud made it real.

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out,” you murmured.

He gave a nod, the smallest motion. And though he was just the butler to some, to you, he had always been the one constant in that frozen palace of a home.

You offered him a faint, grateful smile.

“Thank you… for being the only one who ever treated me like I mattered.”

That got him. His throat bobbed slightly, and he looked away, just for a second—composing himself as always. But when he met your gaze again, there was nothing but pride and sorrow in his eyes.

“You always did,” he said. “He was simply too blind to see it.”

You nodded once, then turned on your heel. The dress rustled around your legs as you moved down the steps. You were still in heels. Still in diamonds. Still wearing the same red lipstick he hadn’t once complimented.

You slipped into the driver’s seat of the black car—the one you��d always parked at the edge of the Wayne fleet, never quite part of the collection.

The door shut with a soft click.

And for the first time in a year, you didn’t look up at the manor as you drove away. You didn’t wonder if he’d come after you.

Because deep down, you already knew the answer.

Even if he did, It no longer mattered.

The city blurred past your windows in streaks of gold and steel. Gotham’s skyline loomed like jagged teeth against the night, familiar and yet cold—just like everything else lately. The gala dress clung uncomfortably to your skin now, a mocking reminder of the life you’d just walked away from.

You tightened your grip on the wheel, trying to breathe through the storm of emotions—anger, betrayal, grief—all coiled in your chest like a venomous thing. But at least you were free now.

Free from him. Free from the expectations that came to being married to him. 

The light ahead flickered from yellow to red. You slowed, fingers tapping anxiously against the wheel, when—

BANG.

The car jolted with a deafening metallic crash. Your head snapped forward as the vehicle was rammed from behind. Airbags didn’t deploy. Your foot slammed on the brakes, tires skidding—but it was too late. A second hit came, this time from the side, and the world tilted as your car spun across the wet street and slammed into a lamppost.

Smoke hissed from the engine. Your ears rang.

You tried to move—unbuckle your seatbelt, reach for your phone—but the driver’s side door was ripped clean off.

A hand reached in—gloved, pale, too fast.

Before you could scream, a needle jabbed into your neck. Cold fire rushed through your veins, and the world slipped sideways.

Voices echoed. Laughter.

A man’s voice, high-pitched and giddy, like a child who’d just unwrapped a present he wasn’t supposed to have.

“Well, well, Mrs. Wayne. What a delicious little surprise.”

You tried to focus through the haze, your limbs too heavy to fight. The world went dark and spinning, but not before you saw a flash of white skin, a grin painted in what looked like blood, and eyes that burned with manic delight.

The Joker.

[luludeluluramblings]

Selina and Bruce getting in the car after meeting with Weddingplanner!Reader.

Bruce still stunned.

Selina: I am only going to ask this once.

Selina: Did you sleep with the wedding planner at one point?

Bruce : …

Bruce : I slept with their mother.

Selina: ….

Selina: If we just meet your kid and didn’t invite them to the wedding I swear I’m about to make this cost you so much fucking money that you will actually feel it.

Bruce : I’ll get the checkbook ready, and we’ll add them to the guest list.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Weddingplanner!Reader dancing in their office after the two leave.

Weddingplanner!Reader: Asshole tax~ Asshole tax~ Gonna add the asshole tax~ Asshole tax~ Asshole tax~ Gonna fuckin’ tax his ass~

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Reader be thinking they're about to make bank only to find out that their life is about to get so much harder that the money ain't even gonna be worth it.

A/N: Selina don’t play that neglect shit, she gonna momma cat the fuck outta Reader. And, make Bruce’s pockets hurt. (Wait, this might be a good Yandere!Selina concept.)

A/N: I’m just trying to get my ideas out so I can focus, don’t mind me.

[acid-ixx]

brutus: both arms cradle you now (villain au concept)

ft. yandere! harley quinn (brief mentions of the poison ivy and catwoman) x gn villain! reader

— masterlist !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

"so, you're saying you hate the batman, for personal reasons, cupcake?"

you've never expected to have a therapy session with one of your mentors who took you in.

harley quinn, the girl who took you into her abode right after she found you bloodied and laying in a crimson bath of your own one faithful night; death your only comfort.

she, alongside her other company, are well-known people within gotham's criminal gallery. she's known to be obsessed with her ex back then, chasing after his toxic love despite hers being consistently thrown away, she's been seen fighting, or even sometimes helping your father when he's wearing the cowl just to find the joker, she dons clown makeup and displays athletic talent for combat—

she's not the type you'd expect to be well-versed with a person's mental health, with her playful attitude and bouncy steps, but with the way she notices your uncomfortable body language whenever you stumble upon the bat, or how you simmer in silent rage watching him care for his vigilante partners during times they get injured; you'd have to admit she's more than qualified to ask you sensitive questions nobody ought to ask a violent criminal like you.

you don't know it, but you share far more similarities with the girl than you thought; chasing after love never once reciprocated, she has every right to know what makes you so triggered seeing the vigilante every damn time he's within the vicinity.

she has every right because she's the one who saved you when you thought your life would be all over.

when you believed that that day would be the time your soul would leave your body, you'd suddenly awoke to her gentle coos and her retelling her company on how she stumbled upon you. and another woman's palms are on your heated forehead, an unnatural shade of green, yet she helps swipes away your hair for your head as she listens intently to harley's story; she gazes at you just as softly as the other. she's seated right beside a familiar face, too, with cropped, jet-black hair and cat-eyes. it was her expensive duvet that you lay on.

it was there that they coddled you collectively.

they've been your saviors then, and your mentors ever since. it's what you've never asked for, to be cared for by criminals who fought on the opposite side from your fathers, but you've been craving affection your entire life that you'd never once complain about.

now, in the same apartment, her question lingers in the back of your head, you feel goosebumps rise on the topmost layer of your skin, and your heartbeats hasten against the cage of your chest.

despite that, she merely looks over at you, her eyes held a calculating gaze. it's not exactly nerve-wracking like batman's whenever you had your occasional encounters with him, but you can tell she's psychoanalyzing every aspect of your being.

like a therapist for most, but to you, she does so because you know she cares.

gone was the ditzy smile she likes to wear on her playful lips, or the active, bouncy lilt she has whenever she sits upon the swivel chair to talk to you. she stares at you, with piercing blue eyes and furrowed brows, nitpicking every reaction you conjure.

it seems like now's the time she wants to open up with such a sensitive topics.

especially right after the incident where you cried after watching batman speak to the youngest robin, with the sweetest, most poisonous tone you've ever heard from the man. it makes you want to vomit watching it, makes you wish to shrivel outside-in your costume and burn until you're mere embers.

you ask yourself, 'do i hate him?'

truth is...

god, you wish you do. but you're different now.

you have new people to care for you, now and you'd rather throw away that heart wrenching life you had back in the past. batman is nobody to you now, you wish you could lead yourself to believe that he was just your usual opponent, nothing more, nothing less.

yet you merely shift on your cushioned seat, ignoring the blaring telltale signs in your head to stay silent, and reply to her albeit the unsureness in your tone. your words taste bitter, sour, salty, and no way sweet. every unpleasant flavor swirls in your tongue in a cacophony of emotions; and you wish to cry the longer you speak, tongue-tied and wishing to will away the ache in your chest.

"i don't hate him, harley, at least not anymore... it's different, i don't know what to feel about him. maybe it's rage, maybe i want to exact petty revenge on him because of my past with him. don't know. it's all complicated..."

"if it's not hatred, then it's something else, no? you feel something deep within for him, don'tcha, sweetheart? you can't lie to me, you're hurt, and scarred, because of him and his other vigilante partners, i can tell."

she replies, quicker than you do, with empathy and comfort laced in every syllable of her words, and you're taken aback at the kindness and understanding. your eyes flutter away from her worried ones, and you look down to your clenched palms and feel the callouses from all the harsh training you've conditioned yourself to endure, dismissing the way she stands from her chair to walk over to you.

hurt... that's true. you're hurt, and all the emotional scars that lay within you are still open, bleeding, and it aches deeply. every time you build new memories with these people, the pain of the past overpowers whatever improvement you make in life; as if it's haunting and taunting you.

when she kneels down to the level of your lap, just right beneath your vision so you could see her beyond the layers of hair that cover your watery eyes, you see her soft gaze and find her dainty fingers holding your palms, ones you didn't notice dig nails deep into skin until the rivulets of blood escape.

when she squeezes your hands, you follow along the patterns of inhaling and exhaling through her squeezing, a silent session with her to help you calm down from your foreboding emotions; your hastened breaths and brimming tears. you've been so used to ignoring all your emotions that you forget what panic attacks felt like in so long, not until you discover that you've been having small bouts of it every day; not until you realize how it's always your mentors comforting you through every one of your silent sufferings instead of ridiculing you for it.

"calm down, cupcake... i just wanted to know why, so i, alongside the girls, could help you through your emotions. what type of mentors are we if we can't help you, no? you've been so tense lately, we couldn't even see your cute, little smile these days. so don't forget you're still allowed to cry, sweetie... let all your emotions out, 'kay?"

she speaks, with a gentle timbre in her voice, and you allow her to embrace your form, one you didn't realize was shivering until now. yet you still bury your head further into her body without shame and allow yourself respite for once; allow yourself autonomy to be controlled by repressed pain and sorrow you've tried to bury deep into the marrows of your bones and the cages of your heart.

and now you realize why, why you're all crying all the same like last time, and you simply cry for longer at the realization.

because what contrasts with love, was indifference, and never hatred. you once loved batman, bruce, with all your heart because you're his kid, and your momma taught you to love without any expectations. but he sees you with indifference, with nothingness. no care, no emotions or opinions about you, unlike harley's who holds you in her arms and comforts you throughout your lengthened crying.

he doesn't even look at you. the thought bothers you more than ever.

"it's— you're right," you whisper through your hiccups, burying your head further on her stomach as her right hand plays with the strands of your hair, scratching your scalp in a comfortable pattern. she hums as a reply, and allows you to continue.

"i'm hurt, harley... it's so painful just thinking... thinking about how much i'm in pain because of him... but he's, he's—"

"shh, you don't have to force yourself to open up anymore, sweetheart."

when she releases her hold on you, you let out an embarrassingly loud cry, hands swiftly trying to pull her back to embrace you; too desperate to let go, too paranoid that this is all a dream, you wish to sink into her warmth forever.

but she holds you back, just as quickly with her warm palms at your wet cheeks, and looks at you. like you're her savior, her peace, and her everything.

her next sentences satiate the foreboding hunger in your heart, one too starved, one that craved and wished to take what it never have.

she feeds you with love and affection too sweet that it rids the bitter taste in the back of your throat and the bile that slowly rises every time you reminisce.

"i get'cha, sweetie. you wanted something from him you can never have, and when he didn't give you that, it destroyed you entirely you felt like you can never pick yourself right back. been there, done that—"

"—but look at where we're both at now! living the best of our lives, doing fun, risky heists and making ourselves happy with what we think is good for us, no? you get where i'm getting at, right?"

you don't. you feel like melting into her hands and never leaving. she gives and you take, take, and take everything she offers you.

and she knows you don't understand, so she continues rambling knowing you'd grasp into every word she says, not once breaking eye contact with you. she stares fondly, you gaze back reluctantly, unaccustomed to the affection your mentors shower you with. but you don't pull back, she becomes sad and sulky when you do.

you want her to be happy.

"sweetheart, i'm telling you the past is past! get him away from your mind and throw all the thoughts about him away! if you were nothing to him, then he should be nothing to you, easy as pie."

"you deserve better people in your life, like me, and pam, and selina. i can tell you're rough around the edges but that doesn't mean you should strip yourself away from any privilege to be cared for and loved for by people who love you as much as you love them. he's nothing to you now, alright? it's painful, but you can move on from him. i trust you can— you know why?"

harley questions you, with all the confidence in her tone, taking your head to lay it on her body again, positioning it so you could hear the buzz heartbeat, you bury yourself deeper into her warm body and nuzzle into fabric. your heart hastens, but it wasn't panic, it wasn't even fear or hurt, but a drive and motivation that burns deep inside of you; that this is what you always wanted, and needed to protect, and what she generously provided.

all her words echo through your head like it's the truth, your holy grail.

"you have us now, sweetheart. to love, to guide, and to protect you. we're everything you need now."

and you believe her like she's god.

just this once, you do. you're allowed to hope, to dream, and to finally feel special. to be embraced like the fantasies you had in the past, to be held and comforted through every gut wrenching experience, just as she does, now.

for once, you allow yourself to be loved, even if it means it's by the same hands that stain itself with blood, all shed in the glory of your name.

a/n: happy halloween! i was laying in bed and suddenly had thoughts about this. i don't like this drabble at all ngl erm 😭 this post is related to events prior to the out for blood chapter (idk if i should make it canon to the plot or not) and what i said in this fanart post. despite this not being my favorite piece of work, i like writing about other charactersn too though, especially when they're so soft to the mc. so yeah! if you guys like more of this, please do comment since idk what to feel about this.

[earlgreylatte]

2V1

In which you stand no chance against them.

Hal Jordan and Barry Allen

You were going to die. You were definitely going to die.

Writhing against the binds Hal constructed did little to let you escape Barry’s fervent mouth. You lost count on the number of orgasms the speedster ripped out of you, vibrating his tongue and fingers in a way that had you seeing stars. You’re not sure how a training session devolved into the two men trying to see how many orgasms they could wring out of you. This was not you intended your endurance training to go, but you couldn’t deny you were being pushed to your every limit.

Hal, using his ring, had kept you on the edge for what felt like hours, mercilessly teasing you with his fingers, forcibly keeping your body still with his constructs, the only thing you could do was cry and tremble. You nearly sobbed in relief when sweet Barry felt guilty enough to step in, kissing your thighs apologetically before pressing his mouth against your mound, eating you out like a men possessed. But now you were shaking and sobbing for a different reason as the man refused to even come out for air.

“You were so desperate earlier, begging to come, but now you want to tap out, sweetheart?” Hal crooned, watching you break again as he languidly strokes himself. “After Bar gives you exactly what you asked for?”

The man tsks mockingly as Barry nips at you, eliciting a yelp from you.

“Don’t focus on him, just let me take care of you, honey, I want you to feel good,” Barry murmurs, blue eyes gazing at you with a striking intensity as he moves up your body, peppering you with open mouthed kisses until he’s able to mouth at the pulse point on your neck.

Hal barks out a laugh, “You’ll spoil her like that.”

His suit dematerializes, revealing him in his full nude glory as he approaches your laid form with a smug smirk as you try not to gawk at his size.

“After all, you still owe us, don’t you, baby?”

Booster Gold and Ted Kord

Earlier you had insisted you could handle it. You were more than ready. Honestly, how hard could it be, you joked.

But as Ted began to slowly penetrate you from behind, you realize you might have bitten off more than you could chew.

Letting out a shaky moan, your head falls forward onto Booster’s shoulder, who nuzzles his cheek against your hair, “Just breathe, you’re doing so good.”

You can only whimper pathetically, panting at how overwhelmingly full you felt. You hear Ted groan into your ear, hands flexing against your hip.

“Almost there,” he grunts before letting out a hoarse laugh, “Might not last long with the way you’re gripping me.”

“‘Think that’s my line,” you mumble, keeping your face pressed against Micheal’s shoulder, before flinching away when you feel him twitch inside you.

“MJ!” You scold halfheartedly, keeping your eyes shut lest you finish embarrassingly quick.

“You’re both so hot,” he groans out, strands of blond hair sticking against his forehead.

Ted chokes out a laugh, sliding his hands up to grope your breasts, having finally bottomed out. “Let’s try not to make this into a fastest orgasm contest.”

“Don’t know if anyone is going to beat your record,” Booster teases you, kissing your forehead, as you try to shoot him a teary glare.

“Just shut up and move already—ah!” You are promptly cut off when Micheal sharply thrusts into you before laughing again.

“Don’t be in such a rush, we have all night to leave you in bed for the next week,” The blond hums, bringing a hand down to rub at your clit causing your breath to hitch.

“Besides, you look cute when you’re stuffed by our dicks…want to savour it, right Teddy?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t let him tease you…too much,” Ted whispers in a mock conspiratorial tone as his grip on your chest tightens.

Yes, you may have bitten off more than you could chew.

Bruce Wayne and Selina Kyle

After dumping Bruce, you hadn’t expected another of his ex lovers to approach you nor did you expect for her to make advances towards you. But you count yourself grateful, knowing that the bat’s other lovers would have rather put a blade to your throat. And there was something undeniably alluring about her, something that left every one of her actions demanding your total attention.

And it was nice to talk shit about your mutual ex.

So, it wasn’t a surprise to when you found yourself drowning in her arms, every stroke and graze being devastatingly intentional, leaving you to completely submit to her whims. Not that you minded. What you did mind was when Bruce suddenly entered through your hotel room’s window while Selina had three fingers in you.

It was almost funny seeing the detective visibly stiffen in shock, seemingly out a loss for words, “I…I thought—“

“You know I don’t spend all my time stealing. Maybe you should spent more time out of that cowl too,” Selina smirks, still not removing herself out of you, only pressing more weight against your body when you squirm.

“Well, might as well stay for the show,” Selina jerks her head toward the armchair next to the window, “God knows you haven’t been getting any since you let this one go.”

You almost laugh at the woman’s boldness before she bends her fingers in a way that having you letting out a shaky moan.

“Eyes on me, sweet girl, let’s show the bat how a lady should be treated,” She purrs.

You quickly find yourself forgetting about Bruce until you hear the sound of his belt clinking and a quiet moan.

Huntress and Question

Honestly, you must have a penchant for attracting weirdos, you think, as you find your days consisting of a certain anti hero and conspiracy buff glued to your side.

Both were, without a doubt, nut cases; Helena, with her too knowing gaze and sharp tongue, and Vic’s muttering and faceless mask making the duo a bit odd in the eyes of others. But the two weren’t all bad. Helena always looked out for you, ready to come to your defence without question, even if it meant threatening people with her crossbow. Vic had a knack for remembering the most obscure details you’ve shared and always knew what you needed with just a glance.

Really, they weren’t as bad as people made them out to be.

However, you promptly withdraw any kind word you’ve said about the two of them when you’re left at their mercy.

You squirm against Vic’s lap, his grip on your naked waist unrelenting, as his erection presses against your rear as Helena tightly sucks your clit, ripping a strangled yelp from you. You’re sure you would have jumped out of Vic’s lap if not for his hold on you.

“Aww, you’re so cute, never had anyone lick this pretty pussy before?” Helena laughs before pressing her tongue against your folds as you let out a cry.

You feel Vic’s thankfully unmasked face nuzzle against your neck, “Based on her reactions and lack of any evidence of a former lover in my investigation—“

“Q!” You complain, feeling your face heat up before moaning when Helena slides a finger in you without warning.

“What have I said about names?” She scolds you with a twinkle in her eyes.

“A bit unfair considering you’re both still in costume,” you pant.

“I wouldn’t call my coat a ‘costume’—”

“Shut up, Q.”

Really, they weren’t that bad.

Yeah, wouldn’t be surprised if this was the first helenavic threesome fic LMAOO actually I will now take this as fact without verifying, it is my badge of honour…also I really put b in that chair lol… Masterlist

This is how rip hunter was conceived btw!!

[seleneprince]

(Fake) Incorrect Quotes Catgirl au (featuring The Signal)

Duke: "Since you're the next Catwoman now, I have a question."

Catgirl: "I'm not fooling around with the next Batman."

Duke: "...I was going to ask if you're going to join the Sirens too, but that's also good to know."

Catgirl: "........"

Duke: "But really? Nothing at all? I mean, having a sexually charged situationship with a vigilante is part of the role—"

Catgirl: "I'm going to stab your neck with my heels."

Catgirl: "Well, this is a nice change of scenery."

Duke: "This is a prison."

Catgirl: "I was being sarcastic."

Duke: "........."

Catgirl: ".........."

Duke: "So, should we call anyone?"

Catgirl: "Usually I would call Selina or my Ma but I feel safer here."

(In an argument after getting caught in a heist)

Catgirl: "Oh, fuck you, you asshole."

Red Robin: "Later. Now listen here, you little—"

Duke: "I'm sorry WHAT?"

Duke: "That's the craziest and most reckless idea I've ever heard."

Catgirl: "...So, you're in?"

Duke: "Of course I'm in."

Catgirl: "Is there a particular reason why you always have to go behind me?"

Red Robin: "To make sure you don't run off and do something stupid."

Catgirl: "Aww, that's almost sweet of you."

(Later)

Catgirl: "He's staring at my ass, isn't he?"

Duke: "I swear, he doesn't even blink."

Catgirl: "I'm not really a thief. I just enjoy interior design and helping people decorate their houses."

Batman: "You emptied a whole vault and left a pepper bomb inside."

Catgirl: "I was redecorating it. The money didn't fit the aesthetic of the vault."

Duke: "Should I ask why you have a taser in your purse?"

Catgirl: "It's an electrified wip, actually. And no, you shouldn't."

Catwoman: *proud auntie noises*

Batman: "You promised to stop doing this."

Catwoman: "No, you said 'Don't let me catch you doing this again'. No one promised anything."

Catgirl: "And we haven't let you catch us again since then, so technically, we're following the rules."

Catwoman: "Let's say, hypothetically, your daughter got into some major legal trouble with a powerful person while she was assisting me. What would you do?"

Mrs Wayne: "Well, I’d kill you and feed you to my dogs. Hypothetically."

[gothamhappiness]

Dick: Hey Jaybird :)

Jason: What Dickhead?

Dick: When are you getting married with Y/N?

Jason: ... This is actually a very good question.

Jason: Hey Y/N.

Y/N: Yes, babe?

Jason: When are we getting married?

Y/N: I don't know, Todd, where's the ring?

Jason:

Jason: Very soon around your finger, love. Very soon.

(Jason asked Selina which place was the best for engagement rings. She was more than happy to show him.)

[flaresemily]

ᏴᎪͲ ҒᎪᎷᏆᏞᎽ Х ΝᎬᏀᏞᎬᏟᎬᎠ ᎡᎬᎪᎠᎬᎡ.

★ αll Եհís թαíղ í բҽҽl. ís Եհís lօѵҽ? օɾ... ղҽցlҽcԵ?

⚠warning⚠ mention of : torture. Stitches. Burn mark. Neglecting. Please proceed with caution. If you are uncomfortable with this kind of thing please ignored this story. Unless you can take the risk

Masterlist : Part 1

It started small…so small. You were Bruce and Selina's daughter. (Yes you are and today you are not some random woman child)

They all love you. Yes, yes they did. Dick takes you to the park sometimes to Bludhaven. Jason, despite being revived again, is cautious with you. Tim being the smarty pants he is actually teaches you how to do math! Damian? Oh Damian, he loves you.

But that all happened one night. At the age of 6 you notice your eyes color is different from both your parents. Bruce didn't notice yet, not even Selina did.

You know who did? Alfred did. How? Simple. He was preparing you to have a family dinner with the others. Of course you are excited. I mean…who wouldn't?

You were so excited you didn't notice the stairs. You trip down the stairs and say bye bye to your head.

As soon as you wake up, Alfred is there taking care of you while your parents and siblings fall asleep on the floor or couch.

That's when he noticed. His eyes widened. “Miss…your eyes? It's pink?”

You just stare at him wondering. When Bruce wakes up he notices your bright pink eyes. That's when it all went downhill.

Bruce and Selina fight all the time. With Bruce accusing her of cheating and her trying to defend your right. And then the next thing you knew.

Divorce paper was signed and Selina has moved out, returning to her work as Catwoman. You just stand there awkwardly. You guys are probably wondering how the family starts to neglect you.

It's because Bruce started it first. Everytime he looks at you. His eyes fill with betrayal. He started to drink and neglect his work as Batman. When he did become Batman oh boy. He doesn't have mercy on any of the villian.

The boys started to blame you little by little because everytime Bruce made eye contact with you. He felt despair. Those bright pink eyes. He looked back through your old picture and noticed something in your eyes. Each picture where you are. You have dark red eyes. From far it looks like black eyes but it turns out to be dark red. Crimson red like blood.

He never noticed your eye color but he clearly remembers that when you were born you had his hair and eye color so…what changed?

Then, one day after finishing your lunch alone. You hear your mother's voice. You quickly run to where the voice is. And there she is talking with Bruce and Alfred with all the boys assembled there. Then she presents a girl the same age as you. 6 years old. But with blue eyes. Bruce's eyes. You stared at them from afar.

Selina handed Bruce something and he looked shocked. He quickly kneels down and hugs the girl. After he finishes hugging her. He stood up and looked at the boys while smiling. You miss his smile.

“This here is your real sister. Y/n.” He announced. Dick takes the paper and scans the DNA test and damn…it is the same Bruce and Selina DNA that came out positive with the girl. (Something like that idk how to describe it but the DNA is positive about the girl being their daughter.)

You can feel your stomach twist. That's when you run to them. “Papa!” You called out to Bruce. All eyes turn to look at you. Even the girl did. You don't know why but you feel…scared as if you did something wrong. “Papa…” Selina just stares at you.

“Papa? Who is she?” Ask the girl. Jason looks at the little one and replies. “It's nothing she's the new maid Alfred hired to be your playmate. Alfred looks shocked too.

“But master? She–” Bruce raises his hand to signal Alfred to stop talking. “Just like Jason says. Since I can't really throw you out considering the outside is Gotham. Then I have no choice but to take you in. From now on you are no longer Y/n Wayne. I do not have a daughter with pink eyes. You may pick out another name for yourself.” just like that your little heart shattered.

Bruce turns to the other daughter. He picked her up. “But you my dear shall be Y/n Wayne the real Y/n Wayne” he smiled gently at her and Carried her to the living room. You just stared blankly at the place they once stood.

Alfred looks at you and leads you somewhere. “Mis– I mean uhm dear. I'll buy your outfit later, alright?” you just stare at him with betrayal in your eyes. You don't understand why Alfred treats you like this.

Everyday is like hell to you. Not only Bruce and the others openly spoil her. They seem to be abusing you mentally. Apparently this…daughter has some fear. Especially in the dark. Dick will always sleep with her. Sometimes she sleeps with Bruce and sometimes Damian reads her bedtime stories. While you?

You are trained to be the perfect maid for her. Your new name? Well it's [name] now.

(Pls use different name for Y/n and different name for [name])

Years passed by. You don't even remember how many scars you have on your back. One from when Damian was angry with the joker for trying to ‘almost’ kill his precious sister. He was training and you tried to earn his trust. Big mistake. He was so angry that he slash everything on his way. You were 7

While training with his katana he uses a blindfold. He didn't notice it was you and he ‘accidentally’ slash you from In front. Luckily Alfred was there to save you from bleeding too much. Damian never apologized.

Second scar was a burn mark.

You are tasked to bring some tea to Jason as he's tired. In the garage he was fixing his motorcycle. You once again try to earn his trust. Accidentally pick up a crowbar and drag it across the floor. He who heard it immediately went to his ‘survival’ mode.

He literally choke you and hold the teapot close to your left eyes and pour it down. Making you scream in pain. Luckily again Dick was on his way to the garage when he saw this. He quickly pushes Jason away and brings you to the hospital. Sadly the scar is permanent. Jason never apologized. You were 8

The third scar hurts you more. Apparently ‘y/n’ went missing and the family went crazy looking for her. At the same time you went missing too. Coincidence huh.

The kidnapper posted a video where they cut and stitched ‘y/n’ back up again to the batfamily. They all went crazy raiding that place looking for her. When they did. Bruce carries her still bleeding body to the manor. How many stitches does she have?

Let's count!

Both arms - 4 = 2 at each arms

Both legs - 2 = 1 each legs

Stomach - 3 = they cut and stitched back up

Back - 5 = same thing they did to the stomach.

Left chest - 1 = they cut open to see the ‘heart’ in a hurry they didn't stitch it properly.

Bruce was apologizing again and again to her. Key word = her.

Then Tim noticed someone standing at the front door. It's Selina and…y/n!!

Then he looked at the unconscious girl in Bruce's arms and he took off the blindfold and was shocked. It isn't their precious y/n it's you!! Bruce almost let you go but he kept a tight grip. His tears already stop and he takes you inside the manor. The rest of your recovery is tended by Alfred.

That's when Selina tells them she forgets to inform Bruce she's taking y/n for a mother- daughter outing.

You who are barely conscious could only let a tear fall down.

Present time

You are 15 now. Same age as y/n. You [name] l/n. You are forced to abandon your name to some wannabe you. Like it or not hey it's life.

“[name] go hang the laundry please I need to pick up the miss at school.

Your age : 15

Wannabe you : 15

Damian : 17

Tim : 19

Jason : 23

Dick : 26

Bruce : 46 (let's all just pretend okay?)

Selina : 46 (PRETEND OKAY!)

“Yes Alfred.” Being a maid wasn't on your bucket list when you were little but now…you can't complain cause Bruce truly treats you like a maid meaning…

Maid + salary + Wayne manor = a lot of money

So a win-win situation.

After Alfred picks her up from school. You were cooking lunch for them. Before suddenly you feel dizzy. So you quickly cook lunch and lay on the bed in the maid room.

That's when you feel the urge. The urge to bite into something. Your body feels warmer than usual. The next thing you knew you were biting your arm. Which is currently bleeding right now.

‘It hurts! It hurts but it's delicious!’ you think. Through your dizzy state. You didn't realize someone was knocking on your door. Alfred opens your door since you aren't answering.

It was dark. With the curtain closed. And you are not opening the light. He decided to open it. Once he did he saw how messy your room was. “[name] didn't I tell you to clean it up?” He looked around for you cause he clearly heard your voice. Before he could turn around something or someone pounced on him.

🦇🦇🦇

From : Flares Emily

🦇🦇🦇

How was it the ‘part 1’ do you all batfamily x neglected reader lovers want more? COMMENT THEN!! (not me forgetting how taglist work😞)

Part 2

[ebodebo]

Hey, Waiter!

NSFW CONTENT

next

—you meet jason at one of bruce’s charity galas and you fuck

—jason todd x f!reader

—2.7k+

wanna be on my taglist ? fill out this form !

"Honey, cross your legs."

"Honey, sit up straighter."

"Honey, we're at a gala, not a summer blowout in the Maldives."

These were just a few of the many phrases your mother chirped at you since you arrived at this stupid gala. You didn't even want to go, but your mother preached something about how, "we needed to be a united front since your father was going for reelection as a New York senator" or something like that.

It was stupid. Nobody gives a shit about familial ties; they care about your values, goals, and accolades. But there's no arguing with your mother; she's as stubborn as they come.

So, you'd sit pretty, legs crossed, with a pristine posture, biting your tongue when she says you could be sitting straighter or you could smile more. Granted, it was only a couple of hours, and if it kept your mother from turning the world around you into hell personified, you'd gladly plaster a rictus smile to appease her.

"Oh, there's Bruce!" Your mother quietly says between you and your father. "Let's go say hello," she says, gripping your hand and pulling you out of your chair, gesturing for your father to follow along.

Somewhere along the way, your parents move in front of you, sequestering you behind them. So once you all reach Bruce, he only takes notice of them, issuing a polite welcome and thanks for their attendance. Your mother swivels her head to see you tucked away behind her, bringing her hand out, gesturing for you to come in front.

"Hello, Mr. Wayne," you politely say, sticking your hand out, before introducing yourself. He grasps your hand with only a slight hesitation.

"Pardon my shock. I just haven't seen you since you were two," he confesses. You smile, pulling your hand back before your mother steps next to you and places her hand on your shoulder.

"She's grown quite a lot since then, Bruce. Still a little air-heady, but I'm hopeful the more she ages, the more my personality will rub off on her," she laughs, carefully wiping a piece of loose hair away from your face. You should feel offended, but the way her joke landed so poorly, making Bruce lightly cough the awkwardness away, made you feel pity.

"You know Selina," he says, filling in the silence, gently placing his hand on her waist as she delicately sticks her hand out for your father to shake.

Who wouldn't know Selina Kyle? She was drop-dead gorgeous but as sharp as they came. She was dressed to the nines in a designer black floor-length dress. It must have been Celine or Givenchy, so it was definitely over five thousand dollars, which is just pocket change to a guy like Bruce Wayne.

"Pleasure," she coos, pulling her hand away. Her gaze shifts to your mother, slightly narrowing her eyes. It seems your mother is oblivious to Selina's adversary towards her because she eagerly sticks her hand out, ready for Selina to shake.

"Selina. So good to see you." But, instead of shaking your mother's hand, she crossed her arms over her chest

"Mhm. I wish I could say the same," Selina sharply replied before Bruce put his hand on her shoulder in warning. You gave Selina a small smile, smothering it with your hand. She covered her own with her champagne glass as she took a sip.

"She's joking," Bruce amends, signaling for a waiter going around with glasses of alcohol. "Champagne?" He asks, reaching for two glasses from the waiter before handing them to your parents.

Before any more conversation can occur, a man calls for Bruce. "Bruce," The man says, "When do you want to start?" The man questions. Bruce picks up his arm, turning his wrist to check his watch.

"He said he'd be here by now," Bruce sighed, rubbing his temples with his fingers. His eyes were scanning around in search of something—rather someone. He does, however, spot Alfred, who he calls over and asks if he'd seen a guy named Jason.

"It was humorous of you to assume Master Todd would abide by your schedule, Master Wayne," Alfred remarks, his face stone-cold. Bruce checks the time on his watch again, then scans the crowd again.

"Just start the silent auction. I suppose Jason will come when he comes," Bruce suspires, clearly agitated. "See you at the auction," he chimes to you and your parents as he sticks his arm out for Selina to take.

"See you," your mother cheerfully says, though you know the cheeriness is just a facade because once Bruce and Selina walk away, your mother instantly drops the smile.

"Can you believe that woman? She was a criminal for God's-sake. She should be thankful that people like us even mingle with her." Your mother scoffs at your father. He hums along, paying relatively no mind to what she is saying.

While she goes on a tangent about how Selina is just using Bruce to get to his billions, you notice a dark figure heading toward the fire escape that you assume leads to the roof. You don't know why, but your brain is fluttering with the idea that you must follow it. So, you do just that.

"I have to use the bathroom," you interrupt, gently touching your mother's hand. You turn your head away from her, not bothering to turn back when she calls your name.

You walk around a corner to see the fire escape latch slightly ajar. Reaching out, you grasp the lever and push it out, quickly feeling the chilly Gotham air touch your cheeks.

Once your foot touches the stone with a 'clack' from your heels, you see the dark figure lying down, smoke clouding around him. He glances at you, taking a drag of his cigarette and huffing out a string of smoke.

"Didn't think pretty girls would come up here." This mystery guy's voice is deep, and judging by his figure, you can tell he's lanky.

"You know the latch and all."

"Are you calling me incompetent?" You cock a brow, hand on your hip with your purse in hand.

"No, I'm callin' you pretty," he says casually, taking another drag of his cigarette, not sparing you another glance. You hate to admit it, but this guy is pretty smooth, but you wouldn't tell him that.

"Who are you?" You ask, taking a few steps toward him and only turning your head to look at the night sky, which is aglow with billions of little stars. You see all the high-rise buildings, light illuminating the dark streets. It's a shame Gotham is so corrupt and unlawful.

"I should be askin' you that, seeing as you’re on my roof," he tentatively says. You can just feel the smugness in his tone, making you roll your eyes.

"You're a Wayne?" You question, arms crossed, slowly stepping closer to him.

"Somethin' like that I guess," he shrugs, which makes you let out a light laugh.

"You guess? You don't know your own family lineage?" You joke, moving to sit not completely next to him but close enough that you could feel the smoke in your nose. You could also see the outline of his face—strong jaw, pretty eyes, fluttery lashes, and nice lips.

"Why are you so curious?" He glances at you with a sly smirk on his lips. You look at him, then at the cigarette in between his fingers.

"You know smoking kills," you inform, pointing towards the cigarette. He lays his head back on the roof, his lips curving into a smirk before retaking another drag.

"You know what else kills? Poking your head around where you don't belong," he puffs out the smoke as he speaks. You turn your head away from him, trying to conceal your smile. This guy is something else, you think.

"Jason," he adds.

Your eyes widen, and your lips quirk. "Ah, you're Jason." You drag out the 'you're,' getting Jason to turn his head towards you. An inquisitive look is plastered on his face.

"So you've heard of me?" He cockily says.

"I know enough about you to know you're flakey," you raise a brow. He lets out a soft laugh.

"Mr. Wayne was looking for you, and so was everyone else," you clarify.

"Oh, please don't tell on me," he fake pleads, clearly being sarcastic. "Especially to Mr. Wayne."

You roll your eyes, though your lips threaten to smile. "I'm sensing some sarcasm."

"Well, aren't you just a modern-day Poirot.”

You widen your eyes, raising your hands. "Wait, wait. You read classic literature?" You gawk, hand coming to your chest.

"I dabble," he shrugs nonchalantly. You eye him, lip quirking.

"Well, aren't you just full of surprises?" You say, holding your two fingers out, gesturing to his cigarette. "Let me take a puff," you insist.

"Ah, ah," he tuts. "What happened to 'smoking kills?'" He raises a brow, taking a puff of the cigarette himself.

"Sue me, but I'm curious," you shrug. He eyes you, wondering if you're joking. He gives you his cigarette anyway. You take a long drag, feeling the smoke cloud your lungs.

"Easy, easy," Jason warns. "Don't take too much, or you'll—" Before he can finish, you start violently coughing, feeling your eyes well up with tears. "Cough," he finishes, taking the cigarette from your hand as you go to cover your mouth.

"You like this shit?" You say through harsh coughs.

"You get used to it," he answers, not paying attention to the question. He's more concerned about you. "You okay?" His tone isn't condescending—it carries empathy.

"Ya, ya. Took too much," you shyly smile, hiccuping a little, turning your head to look directly at him. He laughs lowly. His laugh is deep and gravelly but still sounds kind. You gulp. God, were you getting turned on by a laugh?

You were facing him head-on, and even in the shitty lighting, you could see the way his Adam's apple bobbed up and down and the way his jaw clenched. Your eyes slowly drift down his face, falling on his lips. He had stuck his tongue on his lips to wet them, giving them a glistening sheen.

"Are you thinkin' about me?" His voice is dry. You sharply move your eyes to bore into his, sticking your tongue out to wet the seam of your own lips.

"And what if I am?" You challenge. Suddenly, you can feel your own heartbeat, and your hands are clammy. You can see the gears in his brain working, trying to figure you out.

"Well, are you?" He asks roughly, putting his cigarette out on the roof. You search his eyes, gently biting your lip. His eyes follow you the whole time.

"Guess," you quipped. You hadn't realized you had scooted closer to him, close enough to where he could if he wanted to touch you. This little banter you guys had was getting you wetter by the minute. It was odd. You'd never even met this guy, but you would let him kiss you, maybe even more.

His gaze drifts from your eyes to your lips. "If I were to put my hand under your dress, what would I find?" He gruffly says. Your eyes drift back to his lips, and you bite your own as your chest rises and falls rapidly.

"What would I find?" He urges a little more assertively this time. You rapidly avert your eyes back to him, taking note of the blue hue in his eyes, which has seemingly grown darker.

"Maybe you should find out, Jason," you encourage. Once you give him the go, he's quick to move closer, crushing his lips to yours roughly. It was unlike anything you've ever felt before—like a ton of dynamite just erupted in you, leaving you feeling a buzz on your skin.

You reached up to grab the back of his neck, pushing him further on your lips. He groans as you sink one of your hands into his hair, gripping your waist in his hands and pulling you so you straddle his lap.

"Do you hook up with every girl you just meet?" You murmur into his lips, slipping your tongue between the seam of his moist lips.

"You hook up with every guy you just meet?" He imitates, in between breaths, gripping your waist tighter as you tug on the roots of his hair harder.

"Touché," you whisper, breathing labored as he presses deep kisses down your neck. He works his way down until he is kissing the top of your breast. Slowly, he brings his hands up to slip the strap of your dress down, exposing your breasts.

He kisses a straight line down the top of your breast to your sensitive nipple. His mouth is hot on your skin, especially in a place so sensitive. You moan as his mouth fully encompasses your nipple, lightly sucking, sending goosebumps down your skin.

You reach for his tie, grab it with your hand, hurriedly untie it, and throw it to the side before carefully undoing the few buttons on his jacket.

"It's a shame no one got to see your suit," you murmur as Jason returns his lips to yours, pressing feverish kisses into them before slipping his tongue into your mouth.

"Ya? Why's that?" He mumbles against your lips, as his hands fumble with his zipper trying to pull it down. You slid the jacket off of Jason's shoulder.

"Because you look fucking hot," you say, looking into his eyes, noticing the way his pupils dilate, hunger written all over his face. He quickly slips his slacks down, along with his boxers. Fumbling with the pocket of his jacket, he grabs a condom.

"Really?" You scowl, as he rips open the gold packaging with his teeth, slipping it on himself.

"What? Don't give me that look," he urges, pooling your dress up around your waist, sliding your panties to the side, as he guides the head of his cock inside your glistening cunt.

"Don't act like it didn't come in handy," he appeals as his cock slips inside you easily. You both groan at the contact, gripping each other tighter.

"Fuck, you were wet. Just slipped right in," he grits as you rock yourself against him, desperate for more friction. His hand is in your hair, pushing your face towards his to share messy, hot kisses as his other hand helps you set a pleasurable pace.

You throw your head back as he thrusts into you, eliciting a moan from you. "Fuck, Jason," you mewl as you feel his lips back on your breast, sucking and nipping with his teeth. Your hands grip tighter in his hair, hoping this will give you some kind of stability.

"Feels so good. So fuckin' good," Jason groans as he feels you clamp around him. You press your lips back to his, aching to feel the vibrations of his groans against your face. He grips the sides of your face to deepen the kiss, his teeth clashing with your own.

You continue going up and down on his cock, occasionally he thrusts himself into you to satisfy his urges and lets you grind against him to chase your own high. He takes your nipple into his mouth one last time before you moan so loud you're surprised the Gotham City Police isn't called, and Jason is spewing curses and groans as you both come.

Your bodies are both buzzing and twitching. Chests heaving so heavily you're suprised your hearts didn't just bust straight out of your chests. Jason pulls out once you aren't panting as hard, guiding you off his cock as you fix your dress. He slips the condom off, groaning at the touch, before tying it at the end. Then, he slips his jacket back on along with his slacks.

You haphazardly stand, holding onto Jason's shoulder to keep your balance. Once you gain stability, you awkwardly cough out a bye, unsure on how to make this any less weird and head back towards the fire escape. You only turn when you hear him say something. Turning on your heels, you look back at him, still in the same spot.

"I, uh, never caught your name?" He yells, his hand scratching the back of his neck.

"Didn't throw it, Jason," you shout back, making a lopsided smile grow on his face. Then, turning to go back through the fire escape, you catch a smile spread across your face as well.

Maybe being forced to attend one of Bruce Wayne's galas wasn't so bad.

a/n: jason todd = thought daughter

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[bluetooththereptile]

The other family

(Yandere batfamily x reader) (Coraline coded au)

( English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in the following text.)

This fic was inspired by this post.

Note: I've loosely based this on Wika by Olivier ledriot and tales of Bogymen taking abused and neglected children away to punish the parents.

Tw: yandere tendencies, child neglect, horror?

The sound of the crickets outside your open window was mixed with the distant noises of the fan in your room working to help with the heat that had haunted Wayne Manor for a week now, the heat wave that had hit Gotham a few days ago was unbearable, even during the nights. You tossed around in your bed, refusing to let go of the green dragon plushie that had been your loyal companion for your days at daycare. You looked into its faded eyes because of rough use and a pout came to your lips, maybe you should take Hamlet with you, yeah, the other mom would allow it right?

You had spent your days enjoying your slushies, and milkshakes, playing video games, and rolling on the cool sheets of your bed, but whatever you did you found yourself slowly losing your patience, they had said you could go back to them every weekend so where was the other cat? You poked your head out of your bedroom now and then to catch a glimpse of its white fluffy fur but it was nowhere to be seen in the dark hallway that seemed to stretch on.

Trying to pass the time you snuck out of your room to take another ice cream from the freezer, maybe its taste would calm your nerves, you were supposed to be asleep by nine pm but you knew you had to stay awake until midnight for the other cat to come and find you, it was it's routine by now even if it meant you'd get scolded by Alfred, the only person that cared for your sleep schedule, it was worth it!

You walked past the empty rooms of Others who had gone to patrol that night, your feet made little noise as you walked past the rooms one by one, turning past the corners to get to the main staircase of the Manor, you glanced at the few doors you could recognize in the dim light, holding hamlet closer to your chest as you walked past Dick's guest room, he always said he'd be there for you, but you couldn't remember the last time he had sat down to talk to you like he did with others, maybe it was because he was too old for you? But he always told others that he didn't care about that. You couldn't comprehend why you were invisible to your oldest sibling.

You walked past Tim's room as well before poking your head to the corner that lead to the room Mom and Dad shared, you padded closer, peaking in with curiosity through the ajar door to see your mom sitting behind her vanity desk, lazily filing her nails as she talked to her phone. Her back facing the door. She had put on her usual hair curling rolls, the sound of her soft chuckles in the air as she spoke with her friend. Mom never laughed like that when she was with you or Dad, unless she was shopping, maybe she liked buying gifts for herself so that was why she was happy shopping? You loved gifts too!

"Yeah I don't know, Bruce is getting rather boring, to be honest" Selina sighed as she leaned back in her seat, putting her slender legs up on the low-level vanity, "yeah, good thing I've dragged on the engagement, imagine I bite the trap" She snorted as she filed her forefinger, "Y/N?" You tensed at hearing your name "I'm not sure about the kid, I mean I never wanted a child to begin with but now that I'm strapped to a grown-up toddler what else can I do but stay? I don't know maybe I give up the custody to Bruce or something like that, you know me, I'm not for the domestic life"

Hearing your mom say those things was both confusing and sad, you didn't understand why mom didn't love dad, dad loved her so much! To the point that he always made sure to call her every day! Dad rarely called to the daycare to talk with you, unless he wanted to say happy birthday or something like that since rarely came home at night, Alfred would pick you up or send someone trusted to take you back home, but Dad made sure to take Mom everywhere himself! Plus if mom didn't like you why did she give birth to you? Were you unwanted?

You clutched Hamlet to your chest and buried your face into its fur as you walked passed the door towards the kitchen. Maybe you would take a bag of snacks with the ice cream, yeah eating always soothed you. Getting down the stairs you walked inside the kitchen, sneaking in to open the door of the double freezer only to be stopped by Alfred who gave you a knowing look, making you freeze as you sheepishly looked up.

"I just wanted a chocolate ice cream, it's too hot in my room," you said trying to give your best puppy eyes look, the older man put his hands on his hips giving you a scolding look in return "Too much dairy makes your stomach hurt, remember?" He spoke, his voice firm but not harsh, you pouted as you held the handle of the freezer's door "Please just tonight? I've been good today" you pleaded, Alfred sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before he gave in and handed you a small tub of ice cream with a spoon. "Just be careful to not spill it alright?" He spoke softly, his eyes saddening a little as he watched your small smile, you rarely smiled these days.

You walked out of the kitchen, holding the cold tub in your hand before you froze at the sight of the white feline at the end of the hall, looking at you expectantly, the tub and the spoon fell from your hand as if you were under a spell and you enthusiastically followed the cat, eyes wide with excitement "Alfred!" You called in a hushed tone to the other cat who was sitting patiently for you, its crimson eyes blinking softly as its long tail swished about, Damian's cat Alfred never liked you for some reason, but this one loved being around you purring as it came to your vicinity.

"Hello, kitty kitty!" You bent down to pet the fluffy creature who arched its back to your touch, lovingly rubbing against your legs, gently kneading your slippers. The soft "mrrp" sound of the cat made you smile more, searching under its chin. "Good kitty!" You cooed, before giggling softly as the cat licked your fingers gently, rubbing its head to your fingers to make you pet it a little more, purring a storm.

After the cat had its fair share of your attention it turned around and padded away before turning back to look at you as if to say "What are you waiting for? Follow me!" You followed the feline creature with a big smile on your lips, walking through hallway after hallway, not noticing the walls and temperature shifting as the other cat guided you to another world. It was your weekly routine now.

It soon turned too cold as you walked deeper into the hallways and you started to shiver, holding Hamlet even closer as you finally walked through a single door at the end of the hallway you were at, entering the entrance hall of the Wayne Manor again, where you had started your journey with the other cat, but the coldness of the air and the eerie lights of the lamps and candles gave you the signs that you were at the Other Side.

You looked around squealing with joy at the sight of the other Alfred who held a large blanket for you, standing by a large chair close to the light fireplace greeted you with a warm smile, chuckling as you ran to him, opening his arms before snugging you in the warm blanket in his hands. He gently wrapped you up fully, putting you on the chair to warm you up. He hummed a soft song under his breath, making you giggle as he wiped your face with a warm towel he had nearby. The other Alfred rarely spoke for some reason.

"My baby!" The other mom called for you loudly, making your head snap up and you nearly fell from your seat from excitement at the sight of her in a comfortable set of clothes, so much different than what your mom used to wear, making you feel uncomfortable even if she was at home with you. "Mo-!" Before you could say anything you were in other mom's arms, showered with her kisses. "Oh, my baby! How I've missed you!" She kept kissing your now rosy cheeks, giggling with you as she held you close. She smelt of lilacs, and she was even more beautiful than your own mom, her silvery eyes were warm, just like her smile. She didn't wear too much makeup that would cake on your skin like whenever your own mom kissed you. Her skin was soft and her unpainted lips were always smiling, making your little heart flutter.

You let out a soft squeak when you felt more pressure around you, sneaking a peak from the other mom's embrace to see the other dad holding both you and the other mom, smiling warmly. "How have you been my sweetling?" The other dad's voice was deeper and he had the same silver eyes as the others on the other side. You felt your cheeks hurt from how much you were smiling. A loud laugh left you as the other dad tickled you through the blanket, the couple chuckling at the sight of your joy. The other dad was always home when you were visiting the other side, even if others were on patrol he was there, he still loved the other mother just like your dad did, but the other also loved...you.

The other dad held you two for a long time, as if he wanted to make sure you wouldn't run away just like the first time you did when you had gotten into the other side. Which had become a side joke with your other family. "You need a good bath and new clothes before dinner" The other mom hummed as she sniffed your hair, her comment finally breaking the hold of the hug around you.

The other dad picked you up without a struggle, making you giggle "Daddy!" You called, making a soft shuddering breath leave his lips at the way you called him that, you had started opening up to the couple and it filled them with joy, you had heard the other Alfred and the other Dick discuss this before, apparently, the other mom and dad were depressed for a long, long time. You couldn't see how the other mom put her hand over her mouth as she nearly teared up at the way you called the other Bruce that. "Again" the other dad whispered "hm?" You tilted your head to the side, holding Hamlet with your hand as the other held onto the other dad's shoulder "Call me again" the other dad insisted, and you smiled as you called him again "Daddy!", he closed his eyes as he buried his face into your hair for a whole minute, his board shoulders tense as he tried to hold back his tears, his baby was alive again, alive!

The other dad took you to your other room filled with everything you liked after he had come to his senses, the other mom had made sure to decorate your room to your tastes and had even changed the wallpaper three times for you. The fireplace there was on, and the bathroom was already filled with steam coming off of the glistening marble bathtub there, when you got close to the bathroom you curiously looked at the bubbles in the air, gasping. You had never seen a bathbomb make bubbles! "Bubbles!" You squealed in joy as you popped one, making the other dad's smile widen. He kissed your forehead before he put you down gently, the other mom undressed you carefully, and then she shooed her husband away when she started to take off your underwear "It's a private moment with me and my baby!" She had said,  making the other dad groan. You jumped on your feet as the cold air hit you, making the other mom coo as she picked you up by your sides "It's okay! It's okay!" She then lowered you into the warm water, watching with satisfaction as your body eased down.

The other dad left the bathroom as the other mom washed you, soothingly wiping the dried sweat off you with a soft loofah. You had never been washed like this before, sure Alfred washed you nearly daily or you'd manage to shilishali your way in a shower, but it wasn't as enjoyable as this one. The other mom would coo and softly praise you for heeding her gentle orders to put your arms up, holding her hand over your eyes as she poured water on your hair, making goofy hairstyles with you as you watched yourself in the mirror at the other side of the bathroom. Your giggles filling the air, ignorant of the snow falling outside.

After washing you up the other mom carefully rinsed you, drying you up before she gently put soothing lotion on the soles of your feet and your knees that you had scrapped after a rough play at daycare. You loved seeing the other mom dote on you and pamper you like no other. She even made sure to dry your ear canals, making you scrunch up your nose as she hit a spot while drying up your left ear "It was itchy wasn't it?" She asked, chuckling as you nodded. The other mom laughed a lot with you, and you never grew tired of it. Her voice was like an angel's always making you feel warm and fuzzy on the inside.

The other mom dried your hair with a blow dryer, brushing it carefully before putting on a pair of very cozy and warm pajamas for you. "But Mommy I shouldn't wear pajamas to dinner!" You said, confused "Mommy makes the rules and you can wear whatever you want to dinner" She booped your nose after that, She then gave Hamlet back to you before putting on your fuzzy socks. You wiggled your toes to watch the googly eyes of the bears on your socks move, oh how much you had begged your mom to buy you those cute socks but she hadn't, calling them too silly.

The other mom held you as she walked to the dining room and by the moment she opened the door others burst into energy and mirth at the sight of you, Everyone was there, even the other Damian was smiling! Speaking of your other brother he was quick to rush towards you and hug you tightly after the other mom put you down, Damian never hugged you like this, even if he said he was your older brother, him saying that always rang hollow, but with the other Damian? Oh, it was something else!

Damian held your hand as he guided you to your seat and helped you sit on it, petting your head and Hamlet's. The other mom sat at your left side and the other Damian sat at the right, and as others spoke with each other the other mom put a napkin on your lap and neatly snug one on your collar and chest before she put a spoon full of your favorite stew in your mouth, and you ate with enthusiasm. Chewing the savory roast with both your cheeks full.

The other dad smiled leaning on his elbow as he watched you eat, putting his hand on the other mom's shoulder as she put spoonful after spoonful into your mouth, his eyes soft and full of love for you. You still remembered the first time you had met him, his face was of shock and confusion "Angel?" He had called you but you had meekly mumbled out your name, making him gasp and speak of something along the lines of "Our prayers were answered, glory to Balor!" Who was Balor? No one answered you that.

The other mom was so kind, dabbing napkins on your mouth if a bit of food smeared the corners of it, watching you chew and swallow before putting another spoon of the hearty stew, giving you the juiciest cuts of meat that melted into your mouth. You scrunched up your nose again at her as you tasted a tangy bit, making her giggle "It's alright sweetie, just try to swallow it" and you did with slight difficulty. "Good job!" She clapped her hands together, the ring on her finger shining. The other mom had married the other dad, unlike your mom who seemed to hate that.

You noticed the small dark tint to her nails, her nails had started to darken more and more since the first time you had met, maybe she liked black nail polish? Your mom put on some now and then, but your mind couldn't see how she had grown taller at each visit, oh how her actions had turned more and more clingy, you weren't privy to her tearful night with her mate, when she'd hiss and growl as she shredded the body of another child by the alter of Balor, begging him to give her a chance of a sacrificial ceremony, to which the being had agreed to. Her lost child was coming back home once more.

Your gaze looked around as the other mom put a piece of bread for you to munch on in your hands as Hamlet sat on your lap. You noticed Dick, smiling at him as your memories with him flooded your mind. Even if the other Dick was busy speaking with the other Jason but he still waved to you every time you looked at him, as if he could sense your gaze.

You noticed the other Jason waving your way as well "Nice plushie" he commented, making you hold up Hamlet proudly "Ooh very nice!" The other Jason was so much kinder than the Jason you were used to, he would pick you up and tickle you, blowing raspberries on your belly and smile whenever you talked to him, even if you still could see the pain in his eyes he made sure to dote on you, playing with you and Hamlet.

The other Tim was busy eating his food, but he gave you glances, each time smiling as your eyes met, he had insisted on reading you books when you took naps at the other side since the very first time, though it had turned into more a rivalry with him and the other mom and the other Damian to take turns tucking you in.

The other Damian held your hand as he ate his food in silence, gently squeezing your hand every so often, offering his piece of food as if to mimic the other mom "Damian you know my baby gets stomachaches if you give your baby sibling too much dairy" She gently reminded the other Damian who with a loud "Hmph" took his spoon away from your mouth, making you pout. "It's okay sweetie, I'm just looking out for you" She chuckled as she pinched your nose gently. 

The other Duke and Cass were nowhere to be seen, maybe they were on patrol that night, but you missed Cass's warm hugs and Duke's play times as you and him made pillow forts, having the other dad and Damian force siege onto it.

Everyone was happy, you were happy, and blissfully...ignorant. Maybe it was for the better as the other Alfred once had said to the couple "Let the child be oblivious to everything happening, it helps the transition to proceed smoother, stress and anxiety affect a child's choice."

It all had started with the bridge between the parallel worlds becoming thin when you had passed into a door during a restless night, entering a darker version of the world you lived in that was shrouded in perpetual night and winter, where the dark fae resided. You didn't know every human alive had a fae double living their own life on the other side, that was why you didn't know your own double had been long dead at the hands of the other joker, and how much your other family were overjoyed to find you there. And the other Selina, became obsessed with the idea of taking her child back by any means possible.

"It is against the rules" the other Bruce had said as his wife suggested the idea of taking you into the fold of the kin residing on the other side, but she had reminded him "They don't want the poor thing! We can give the sweet angel the love a child like the little one deserves! Look how eagerly the child clings to you! The child needs us, my love, the child needs me!" And that was when the family decided on setting a plan to turn your weekly visits, into a permanent stay.

"Sweetie" the other mom called for you" Everyone quieted down as they realized the moment of truth was going to happen "Do you want to stay with us?" The other mom asked softly as she rubbed your back "I'd love to stay the night Mommy!" You answered, making Alfred smile at your blissful innocence "No sweet baby, I mean do you like to stay with us forever?" The other father chimed in and you frowned as you tried to think. The other mom bit her lip nervously, maybe it was too early for her to suggest it? The couple watched anxiously as you tried to think about your decision "If I agree, I will be with mommy and daddy forever?" "Forever sweetie, and we won't leave you, ever" the other mom cooed, holding your hand as Hamlet fell onto the ground. "We will have lots of fun, mommy will be your best friend, and Daddy and others will play with you nonstop!" You smiled at the thought of it, melting the dark hearts of the fae sitting around the table. "Yes, mommy!" You agreed, and upon that, the mood shifted.

At hearing that the lights turned a greenish hue, as if on cue, and everyone seemed to grow taller and taller as your own body turned heavy, the illusion magic was wearing off and yet the couple was surprised to see you weren't panicking. "I'm sleepy Mommy" you mumbled with a soft yawn, and the female fae cooed softly at hearing that "It's alright sweetling, mommy will make sure to tuck you in" She reached out and picked up Hamlet from the ground, the plushie morphing into a grotesque figure of a dragon in her clawed hands before she tucked the toy in your arms. Your eyelids grew heavier as you sunk into the large seat behind the table, not noticing how everyone stood up from their seats, bowing to the haunting shadow appearing in the room.

A hissing voice spoke in a language you didn't know, and the female fae picked you up, holding you by the back of your knees and shoulders, passing you into the massive bony arms of the God of the dark elves, Balor, who wrapped you in its tangible shadowy form "Do not worry for the babe, rest this night my children, for tomorrow we will rejoice for a fae, reborn."

Your eyes closed as you slipped into a peaceful slumber. Before you found yourself in a bed of flowers, lying beside an angelic man in a lush garden. "Shush my child, sleep" the man soothed you "Birth will be painful" he murmured, gently tapping your chest as he lulled you into rest in your dream before the emergence of another life. "Your parents are waiting for you" he whispered in your ear with a warm voice, and then, your mortal heart stopped in his arms, your soul leaving your body that would soon the body of the many children in the garden of Balor, to land into the carefully preserved one of the sweetling of the other family of yours.

Born anew, in bliss and pain.

It took three days for everyone to notice you were gone, without a trace, nothing was lost but you and your favorite plushie, leaving your parents forever haunted by the memories of the child they took for granted.

Tags: @craulo13 @gaozorous-rex-blog @090909yh @demonprodegy @marise-eternal @jersules @goodsoup19 @candlejuice @worshipcoffee @geniegirlrocks @ghostgangleader @obsessedwithromance @theblacksirenofwinter2004 @ranshin03 @prettyboys247 @kinuraoj @iwannabeapinkaesthetic @legendarylearner18

[yannawayne]

ix. the fall and the cage

SYNOPSIS: "Alright, let's do this one last time. My name is Y/N Kyle. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, And I've been the one and only Spidey in Gotham. I’m pretty sure you know the rest." PAIRING: Older! Damian Wayne/Fem! Reader TAGS: MILD SMUT (will put indicators if people want to skip), Established relationship, Wounds, Violence, Suggestive jokes, Doppelgangers AO3: yenwayne SERIES LINK: gotham's only spidey

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 ༻⊰───⋅

His glare locks back to you. “What are you?”

You meet his eyes, the mask you usually wear cracked open by exhaustion and fear.

“I don’t know,” you whisper. “But I do know I’m not your enemy.”

Bruce stares. The silence stretches again.

Then, he pulls out a small cylindrical device from his utility belt, something that clicks with a low, mechanical hum. “Then you won’t mind proving it.”

 ༻⊰───⋅

"It's just me."

Bruce doesn’t react immediately.

For a moment, the rooftop is silent. Eerily so. The wind whistles around you, the tension crackling in the air like an approaching storm. Damian’s breath catches in his throat. He watches his father closely, prepared to move the second things go wrong.

Bruce’s eyes, what little of them you can see beneath the cowl, widen, ever so slightly. His jaw tenses. 

It takes him only seconds to put the pieces together. 

He is, after all, the World’s Greatest Detective.

The voice. The presence. The way you stood beside his son, not as a stranger, but as someone who had always belonged.

“…You,” he says at last, his voice low, almost disbelieving.

You nod slowly. “Yeah. Me.”

Bruce takes a slow step forward, not in aggression, but something more cautious. Measured. “How long?” he asks, and there’s something raw beneath the steel of his tone. Hurt, maybe. A sense of betrayal.

You hesitate, “It hasn't been long. Around homecoming."

Bruce’s expression darkens again. “And you or Selina never thought to tell me?”

“I didn’t want to lie,” you say quietly. “But I also didn’t want to be locked in a cell before I had a chance to prove I wasn’t your enemy.”

“And this—” Bruce gestures around, to the aftermath of the fight, to the blood still drying on Damian’s lip— “This is how you prove that?”

“You attacked me,” Damian interjects sharply, his voice clipped, sharp as the blade at his hip. “You didn’t ask questions. You just assumed the worst, as always.”

Bruce’s eyes flick to him, briefly, sternly, but it’s not anger that rises in him. It’s fear. Tightly bound, fraying at the seams. It spills out as aggression because that’s the only way he knows how to hold it.

His glare locks back to you. “What are you?”

You meet his eyes, the mask you usually wear cracked open by exhaustion and fear. 

“I don’t know,” you whisper. “But I do know I’m not your enemy.”

Bruce stares. The silence stretches again.

Then, he pulls out a small cylindrical device from his utility belt, something that clicks with a low, mechanical hum. “Then you won’t mind proving it.”

Before either you or Damian can react, the device hisses. A wave of high-frequency sound and dark energy explodes outward.

The world goes black.

Not just dimmed. Obliterated. The lights of Gotham vanish. The stars are swallowed. The moon flickers out like a candle. And then, worse, your senses vanish too.

Your balance fails. Your skin prickles. Your vision spins even in darkness. It's as though the air is being stripped of meaning, every nerve ending short-circuits. You stumble back with a sharp gasp, clutching your chest as something inside you twists. It’s not pain, exactly. It’s violation. Something ancient and unnatural brushing too close to your core.

Damian curses beside you, struggling to stay upright. 

“It’s a blackout field,” he growls, teeth gritted. “Father! Don’t you dare—”

You drop to one knee, gasping as something inside you pulses off-beat, involuntarily. The organic webs in your system shiver. Not physically. Metaphysically. Like they’re being mapped, indexed.

The device Bruce activated is a diagnostic emitter, one of his more aggressive ones. It scans for foreign particles, unusual bio-signatures, multiversal residue. It’s designed to extract information from metas, especially those with unknown origins. You realize, with a spike of fear, it’s not just trying to detect what you are, it’s trying to expose it.

Your breathing quickens. You feel seen in a way that’s not comforting at all.

“No,” you rasp, clutching your side. “Hurts—”

Bruce's silhouette, ghostly in the blackness, remains motionless. Cold. Watchful. “If you’re telling the truth, you’ll survive the scan.”

“And if she’s not?” Damian’s voice slices through the dark, sharp as the blade still clenched in his hand. “You’ll kill her just to make a point?”

“I’m not killing her,” Bruce snaps. “I’m making sure she isn’t a walking bomb waiting to go off in your bed.”

That word, bomb, stings more than any blow. Damian flinches at it, too.

Bruce’s emotions flicker now in the quiet: anger, yes, but beneath it, fear.

Deep, ancient fear.

The kind that digs in like a parasite and doesn’t let go. You’ve seen it before. It’s not about you, not entirely. It’s about what you represent. Something unknown. Something he can’t control. And if Batman can’t control it, he has to neutralize it.

His voice is lower now, almost strained. “I’ve seen too many people die because I hesitated. I won’t risk it again.”

You force yourself upright, swaying slightly, every cell still buzzing with residual static. “I’m not asking you to risk Gotham. Just... trust him.” You tilt your chin toward Damian. “Trust your son.”

Bruce doesn’t even blink.

You gasp again, eyes wide as a final jolt of energy hits you like lightning to the spine.

And then everything tilts. The rooftop sways. Your head slumps forward. The last thing you feel is Damian grabbing you before you hit the ground, his voice warping into a panicked blur.

Then... nothing.

༻⊰───⋅

??? - ???

You wake up cold.

Metal surrounds you. Fluorescent lights above. A containment area. Sleek, clinical. No visible seams or exits, just smooth, reinforced panels and a faint energy field humming at the edges of your vision. 

“Hey,” a voice says urgently. “Habibti—! Eyes on me. Open your eyes.”

You blink. The world swims into focus. Slow and fragile. The hum of the emitter is gone. The dark has lifted. But your limbs feel like they’re made of concrete.

“Wh—” Your throat is raw as you turn your head, eyes still unfocused. The dim shape of Damian looms close, his silhouette familiar but strange in this sterile, harsh light. You're in a containment cell. A forcefield buzzes faintly, locking you inside, making the space feel smaller with each passing second.

“Wh-what happened?” Your voice cracks on the words, pain flaring in your chest. You shift slightly, the movement slow and deliberate.

Damian is there, his usual intensity replaced with something closer to frustration and... concern. He’s not wearing his mask, and you can see his eyes.

Green, sharp, and cold. 

His nails dig into the forcefield, his jaw clenched tight. 

“Father employed a diagnostic emitter. High-level blackout field,” he says, his voice laced with venom, as though he couldn't bear the taste of the words. “Nearly obliterated your nervous system. The bastard didn’t even flinch.”

You shift, wincing. “He’s scared of me…”

Damian scowls, his lips curling in distaste. “That does not grant him the right.”

Across the batcave, you catch the silhouette of Bruce standing still, like a statue, his posture rigid, unmoving. The device is in his hand, the embedded screen lighting up with data. His face is grim, his lips pressed into a thin, unforgiving line as he scans the readout.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity of silence, he speaks, his voice subdued but edged with something you can’t place. “No radioactive residue. No multiversal degradation. No artificial structure. You’re not a clone. You’re not a weapon. You’re...” He trails off, as if uncertain how to finish the sentence.

You blink slowly, your mind catching up to the words. “Not normal.”

Bruce’s eyes shift ever so slightly, acknowledging your response. “No,” he agrees quietly, almost as though the admission is a reluctant concession. “You’re not.”

But there’s something in his posture that changes, subtle but unmistakable. A slight loosening of his shoulders. Not trust, not yet, but something far closer to hesitation.

You attempt to move again, your head pounding with the remnants of whatever Bruce used to sedate you. Your body feels foreign, your limbs sluggish, like you’ve been asleep for too long. But it’s the ache in your head that consumes you. You blink hard, trying to clear the fog, but it doesn’t help.

Bruce finally speaks again, his voice softer than before, though still carrying the weight of an unspoken decision. “You left me no choice.” There’s no apology, no anger. Just that same, infuriating calm that always manages to get under your skin.

“This isn’t punishment,” he continues, his eyes hardening slightly. “It’s a precaution. You’ve seen what happens when powers go unchecked.”

You grit your teeth, lifting your head as best as you can despite the ache that pulses with each movement.

"I’m not a weapon," you rasp, your voice hoarse and desperate for him to understand.

“That’s not your decision to make.” Bruce’s words are like a blade, cutting through the air with finality.

Damian growls low, slamming his palm against the barrier between you, his frustration boiling over. “You could have just talked to her!”

Bruce meets your gaze briefly, unreadable. “I am talking to her now.”

Damian doesn’t let up, his fury now a raw shout, almost echoing in the silence. “You kidnapped her!” He gestures toward you with an elegance that seems out of place in the intensity of the moment. “You employed a blackout charge on someone you know personally, someone you know does not mean this family harm—”

“She lied,” Bruce counters, his tone quiet but resolute, his eyes locked on you, unflinching. “She could be lying to you. She put the entire family at risk.”

Damian’s lips curl with contempt. “She protected this family. You simply couldn’t see it, because she did not come with a Bat on her chest.”

Bruce doesn’t respond. And that’s what makes it worse.

༻⊰───⋅ An hour later, Selina arrives.

Damian’s posture tightens immediately, his whole body coiling like a spring, ready to strike. His eyes narrow, scanning the room, searching for a threat.

When he sees her, his muscles relax just slightly, but his scowl doesn’t waver. His hands are still clenched, his anger simmering beneath the surface.

Selina stops just before the forcefield, her figure smaller than usual. She’s hunched, like she’s holding herself together by a thread.

When her eyes find you, they widen with concern, and for a split second, her usual mask cracks. The woman who cares more than anyone knows is there, and it’s almost painful to see. She takes a few cautious steps forward, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

“Dammit,” she mutters, voice rough with barely contained emotion. Her hands press against the forcefield like she could just push through it and hold you. “You’re okay, right? They didn’t hurt you? Tell me they didn’t hurt you.”

You shift, wincing. You feel like dead weight, but you try to reassure her, your voice barely a whisper. “I’m fine. Just... tired.”

Selina raises an eyebrow, the disbelief clear in her eyes. “Tired? Bullshit,” she snaps, stepping closer, her fingers pressing harder against the barrier. Her eyes flick to Damian, then back to you, burning with protectiveness. “I know you better than that. You think I can’t tell when you’re not okay? They locked you in here like a criminal... for what?” She scoffs, throwing her hands up. “Bruce... sometimes I swear he forgets what it’s like to care about anyone.”

Before you can respond, she cuts you off, raising a hand. Her sharp features soften just a little, but there's still frustration in her voice. “I just need to know you’re okay,” she whispers, her hand trembling against the forcefield. “I should’ve... I should’ve been here sooner. I should’ve known better.”

“I...” you try to say, but she shakes her head.

“Shh.” Her forehead presses gently against the barrier, a soft breath escaping her lips. “I’m not leaving you here, okay? I’ll figure this out. I’ll get you out of here. Bruce... he doesn’t get it.”

Her voice is steady, but there's a tremor in her hands, a crack in her resolve. For all her strength, seeing you like this has brought her to the edge.

The guilt hits you like a tidal wave. Your head drops, and you blink hard to stop the tears from falling. You were supposed to listen. Selina warned you.

“I should’ve listened to you…” Your voice breaks, barely a whisper, and the weight of it all crashes down on you. The isolation, the fear, the mistake—it floods over you and you can’t hold back anymore. The tears fall, hot against your skin.

Damian watches, his expression darkening as he notices. He leans in, brow furrowed, his forehead resting gently against the forcefield near yours.

Selina watches in silence, her hands still pressed to the barrier, lips tight in a thin line. She wants to reach out, to do something, anything, to make this better. But she can’t. All she can do is stand here and promise she won’t let go.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out, your voice thick with guilt. “I didn’t mean for this to happen… I didn’t—”

“Shh. I know,” she murmurs softly, her voice full of understanding, but also an undercurrent of something stronger. “But it’s not over. I’m here. We’re getting you out. Just hold on.”

༻⊰───⋅

The hours stretch on, heavy with silence. It's thick, suffocating.

Upstairs, Selina is no doubt locked in some heated argument with Bruce. You can almost hear her voice rising above the din of the Batcave, cutting through the tension. But here, with Damian, the world beyond feels like a distant memory.

Damian hasn't moved. Not really. His body is a taut wire, ready to snap at any moment. His forehead rests gently against the cold forcefield beside yours, the harsh chill of it matching the ice in his veins.

He's still angry—too angry, in fact. 

You're not sure how much time has passed, but you can tell he's exhausted.

The anger, the worry, the helplessness.

All of it is wearing him down

"Damian," you whisper, your voice soft and almost too quiet to hear. Your eyelids are heavy with exhaustion, but you force yourself to keep your gaze on him. "You should go to bed. You haven’t slept since this started."

He doesn't answer immediately. His jaw tightens, the tension in his body practically radiates off him. His hands twitch, like he’s fighting an instinct to destroy something—anything—that will release the pressure building inside him. There’s a simmering fury beneath the surface, something raw and dangerous that’s been festering for too long.

"I don’t need sleep," Damian mutters, his voice low, gravelly, like it’s been dragged through a storm. His eyes never leave the barrier that separates you, dark with something he won't let you see fully. "I know how to micro-sleep. But I won’t close my eyes while this is happening. Not with you stuck in there."

“Damian…” you whisper again, softer, laced with a hint of pleading. “You don’t have to stay like this. It’s... It’s not your fault. I’m fine.”

He scoffs, a sharp, bitter sound that cuts through the air like a blade. His eyes narrowed, the raw emotion within them flaring like an exposed wound. When he speaks next, his voice shakes with a deadly mix of pain and fury.

“Not my fault?” he spits, turning his head sharply to face you, his words coming out like a snarl. “I can’t watch this anymore. I can’t watch you in here.”

You try to hold his gaze, but it feels like staring into the sun.

“I can’t stand seeing you locked up,” he growls, the frustration practically radiating off him. “You’re not some criminal. You don’t belong here.”

The weight of his words presses into you, and you know, deep down, that if he had any way to tear through this forcefield, he would’ve already done it.

“I hate this,” he mutters, voice quieter now, but there's still a burning anger in it, twisted inward. His forehead presses harder against the cold, unforgiving barrier, a cruel reminder of the distance between you. "Hate seeing you trapped, helpless. I don’t care what Bruce thinks. I don’t care what anyone thinks."

His gaze flickers to yours, raw and desperate, and for a split second, you see him—just Damian. Not the stoic, hardened boy with a mission, but a kid who’s barely holding it together. The weight of the world pressed down on him.

“… I need you to be okay."

“I will be,” you promise him, voice stronger despite the exhaustion that threatens to drag you under. "As long as you’re here."

Damian doesn’t respond right away, but you can feel the shift, the slight easing of the tension in his body, like he’s finally letting out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper again, though this time, it’s less about anything you’ve done and more about the weight of it all. The burden of everything that’s happened. “I didn’t want to drag you into this.”

Damian's lips curl into a strained smirk, but it’s tired, sad. “I chose this. You didn’t drag me in.” His voice drops, low and dangerous. “I knew exactly what I was getting into. Don’t you dare blame yourself for this. Not when it’s my father who’s too blinded by his damn paranoia to see what’s right in front of him.”

Suddenly, there’s a sound. The hiss of a hidden seam opening in the paneling. You blink, shifting weakly toward the noise.

“Alfred?” your voice is rough, barely above a whisper.

The butler steps through a narrow passage concealed within the far wall. The shimmer of the forcefield adjusts slightly to accommodate the entry. He’s holding a covered tray in his hands, a soft towel draped over his forearm. Calm, collected, and somehow solemn.

Damian’s head snaps toward the movement, eyes narrowing. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”

Alfred doesn’t even flinch. “And yet, Master Damian, here I am.”

Damian’s scowl deepens. “You shouldn’t risk this. If Father finds out—”

“He will find out,” Alfred replies calmly, his gaze unwavering. “But he will not stop me. Not when someone I care about is being treated like an enemy in their own home.”

He steps up to the edge of the forcefield and looks to you, his face softening. “I thought you might want something warm to eat. The kitchen has been dreadfully quiet without you stealing things when you think I’m not looking.”

Despite everything, a fragile smile tugs at the corner of your lips. “You always knew?”

“I always know,” he says, with that faint spark of amusement that only Alfred can manage, even in the darkest of moments.

Damian steps forward, eyes locked on Alfred’s tray. “She needs to be freed. This is absurd—”

“Master Damian, if you too do not eat or sleep soon, you will collapse,” Alfred interrupts smoothly. “You are no good to her like this, and you know it.”

Damian hesitates, visibly torn.

Alfred softens again. “Let me sit with her, just for a few minutes. Go. Rest. When you come back, she’ll be here. I’ll make sure of it.”

There’s a beat of silence. You watch as Damian wrestles with himself. Finally, he gives you a look, still fierce, but there's a hint of reluctant trust there, too.

“…Don’t let him near her,” Damian warns quietly, a final glance toward the ceiling, toward Batman.

“I have no intention of allowing fear to masquerade as justice,” Alfred replies. “Now go. I’ll call you if anything changes.”

Damian lingers a moment longer, eyes on yours. Then he steps away. His footsteps echo up the stairs, quiet, but still filled with fury.

When he’s gone, Alfred finally kneels at the edge of the forcefield. He sets the tray down and pulls out a thermos, unscrewing the lid to let the scent of real broth waft into the air. “It’s not much, but it’s better than intravenous fluids.”

You smile tiredly. “You’re risking a lot coming here.”

Alfred’s gaze is gentle. “I’ve served this family for decades. I’ve watched it grow, fracture, and, on rare occasions, heal. But I will not sit idle while it lets fear dictate cruelty.”

Your breath catches slightly.

He continues, his voice lowering with a weight of years behind it. “Master Bruce… he isn’t thinking clearly. You mustn’t take it personally. He’s terrified. Terrified of what he doesn’t understand. Of what you might become.”

You press your lips together, trying to force the tightness in your throat to ease. “I know, but I want him to know that I would never hurt anyone—”

“I think he knows,” Alfred interrupts gently, his voice warm yet firm. “But logic rarely wins against fear. Especially for a man who’s lost as much as he has. He sees threats in shadows, and you, my dear, have always cast long ones.”

You look down, shame pressing like iron on your chest.

Alfred’s fingers brush the edge of the forcefield, reverent but firm. “But I’ve seen your heart. And I believe in it. Which is why I will find a way to help you."

Your eyes widen. “You’d… betray him?”

“I would defy him,” Alfred says calmly, a fire in his voice now. “Because loyalty should not be blind. And because this family should never forget what it means to protect its own.”

He presses the thermos closer to the barrier, and a small opening appears as if the system itself recognizes Alfred's authority, just enough for the steam to escape, just enough for trust to pass through.

A mechanical click sounds softly, and a hidden seam in the forcefield parts for only a moment, allowing Alfred to slide the thermos and a small, foil-wrapped bundle through. The opening seals again with a quiet hum.

“Rest, if you can,” he says, adjusting the towel on his arm with practiced ease. “Eat what you can. The body cannot weather storms when it’s starved of warmth. Neither can the soul.”

You reach out with trembling fingers, taking the thermos gently, cradling it as if it might disappear. The heat seeps into your palms and travels up your arms, grounding you. The smell, simple, comforting, familiar, brings tears to your eyes before you can stop them.

“…Thanks,” you whisper.

Alfred nods, his face unreadable but his eyes unbearably kind. “There is no need. If anything, I should apologize. For not intervening sooner.”

You shake your head. “It’s not your fault.”

“Perhaps not,” he murmurs. “But that doesn’t mean I’m absolved of responsibility.”

“I will speak to Master Dick,” he continues. “And Barbara. Perhaps even Tim. There are lines forming in this house. If Bruce refuses to see reason...”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t have to.

You nod faintly, holding the thermos to your chest like it’s a tether. The food is a small act of rebellion, but it means everything.

Alfred rises slowly, smoothing the front of his coat. “Try to rest. If not for yourself, then for Damian. You know how reckless he gets when worry takes hold of him.” He pauses, a flicker of affection softening his tone. “And make no mistake... he's deeply worried about you.”

You manage a faint smile, weary but genuine. “Yeah. I can tell. He’s already halfway to batshit crazy.”

Alfred chuckles once, a dry and quiet sound. “Then I shall hurry back with something to slow him down. A full stomach and a cup of tea may buy us both a few moments of peace.”

༻⊰───⋅

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Bruce—she’s a kid!”

Bruce didn’t stop walking.

His boots were nearly silent on the stone floor, but Selina heard them anyway. Each step a countdown. Each second, a verdict being prepared.

He moved like someone who’d already made a decision hours ago and had been replaying its consequences ever since.

When he finally stopped, the only sound was the low hum of the elevator leading from the Batcave to the manor behind him, and the soft whirr of the security locks re-engaging in the distance. Still clad in full armor, he raised a gauntleted hand, calm, practiced, and slid the cowl back from his face.

His eyes, when they met hers, were flat and cold. Suspicion lived in their corners, but it wasn’t wild or paranoid. It was the kind that had been earned, honed over years of betrayal and hard choices.

“She’s not who you think she is.”

Selina’s jaw clenched.

Her heels struck the carpeted floor of the lavish living room with sharp, angry purpose as she crossed the space between them, the hem of her coat trailing like a shadow behind her. She grabbed his arm, nails digging into the fabric of his suit.

“Don’t do this,” she snapped. “Don’t pull the Bat-act on me right now.”

She leaned in, eyes narrowed. There was heat in them, rage, but also something softer beneath. The memory of small, stolen moments. Of whispered truths and painful choices.

“I know her, Bruce. I know what she’s been through. And so do you.”

There was a flicker, just a flicker, in his expression. A tightening around the eyes. A breath held just a second too long.

But it was gone before she could say his name again.

“She has enhanced abilities—arachnid in origin. She’s not registered. Her presence in Gotham is unaccounted for.”

“She’s also not blowing up buildings or turning people inside out with her mind,” Selina said, stepping in front of him. “You know what she is? She’s scared. She’s a teenager. She’s my girl.”

At that, Bruce finally met her gaze. His eyes, steely and guarded, held something deeper. A trace of doubt? A flash of guilt? Selina couldn’t tell. It was quickly masked, but it was there.

“She has enhanced abilities. Arachnid-based, if the scans are accurate. She’s a meta. That changes things.”

Selina let out a short, disbelieving laugh, bitter at the edges.

“Seriously?” Her arm shot out, gesturing toward the shadows just beyond the Batcave entrance. “Changes what? That she can stick to walls? Swing from buildings? Your kids are vigilantes too!”

But Bruce wasn’t looking. He stood still, cloaked in silence. The kind that meant his mind was already made up, whether he said it aloud or not.

“I can’t fucking believe you would even consider—”

“Selina, she could be a threat. You know I can’t ignore that.”

“She’s not a threat,” Selina snapped. “I told you—she’s my girl.”

“You’re emotionally compromised.”

“And you’re emotionally constipated,” she fired back. “You’ve known her for years, Bruce. And now one blip on a scanner, and suddenly she’s on your damn watchlist?”

“I’m doing my job—” he began, but Selina stepped in closer, her voice low and lethal.

“Bullshit.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, deadly, deliberate. “You’re doing your usual thing. Treating people like problems instead of people.”

There it was. The quiet truth, laid bare between them.

Bruce didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. His silence said everything Selina had feared: that even now, even after everything they’d been through, his first instinct was to see the girl as a variable in one of his plans.

As a threat. Not a person.

“You hurt people when you forget they’re not just names in your case files,” Selina said finally. 

“Don’t make me pick sides, Bruce.”

She held his gaze, unwavering.

“Because you know I’m choosing her.”

༻⊰───⋅

The thermos in your hands is still warm, its metal surface radiating a quiet comfort that doesn’t reach your chest. You’re halfway through a sip when it happens. 

Click.

Soft, almost silent, but enough to slice through the silence like a whisper against glass. The Batcave’s security systems are shifting.

You freeze, thermos hovering just below your mouth.

Footsteps follow, measured, deliberate. Not the kind that rush or hesitate. No scrape, no stumble. Just the steady rhythm of someone who knows they belong here, even if their presence wasn't expected.

A faint glow arcs across the far side of the cave, catching the edge of her hair. She steps forward slowly, shedding the shadows with every step, until the overhead light hits her face.

“Morgan?”

She grins. Casual and sharp, hands tucked into the pockets of her sleek jacket like this is just another late-night run. “Hey, sunshine.”

Your heart stumbles. “How—how did you get in here?”

She steps closer to the field. “Please. You think I’d let Bruce lock you up without a backdoor?”

Your eyes narrow. “But the system—”

“I rewrote parts of the failsafes months ago,” she says easily. “Just in case someone got… paranoid.”

A seam hisses open in the forcefield, something only Bruce—or, hell, Alfred—should be able to do.

You scramble to your feet, clutching the thermos.

Morgan just smiles.

“Relax. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to get you out. Let's go!”

“Now?” Your voice is low, uncertain. “I thought...? Damian—Alfred—they were trying to—”

Her smile tightens. Something colder flickers beneath. “You really think you’re safe here? Batman locked you up. Damian couldn’t stop him. Alfred had to sneak you food. That’s not safety. That’s a cage.”

You hesitate.

“I’ve been watching,” she says gently. “And trust me—if you stay, they’ll turn on you. Batman's fear spreads. It always does.”

You shake your head. “That’s not true. Damian—he—”

“Can’t protect you if he gets locked out. Something that's bound to happen,” Morgan’s tone sharpens. “And Selina? She made a deal. She was supposed to get you out. But Bruce pulled rank. So I improvised.”

You blink, frowning. “How do you—You’re... you're not messing with me, right?”

“Why would I?” Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. 

You glance toward the stairs.

Morgan’s voice softens again. “Look. I get that you're confused right now, but I’m the only one not treating you like a threat. I’m here. Now. That has to mean something.”

You stare at her. At the forcefield now lowering. At the ease with which she bypassed every safeguard Bruce ever designed.

Then again, Morgan was always good at this stuff. It’s no surprise she did it this fast.

“I…” You take a step forward, uncertainty creeping into your voice, your hands trembling. “What about the others? When do we tell them?”

Morgan’s smile returns, sharp and clean. “We can’t risk it. Not yet.”

Something about her tone makes your skin crawl. But you push it aside.

You’re tired. You’re scared. And part of you wants—needs—to believe her.

Reluctantly, you follow.

Behind you, the Batcave’s lights dim just slightly, the system blinking in silent confusion, as if even the walls are beginning to suspect something is wrong.

Morgan doesn’t look back.

Her hand hovers near her waist, where you now notice a sleek device you’ve never seen before. Not Bat-tech. Not yours. Too polished. Too… alien. Her fingers twitch over it with ease.

You step into the shadows beside her.

Something stirs in your chest. Not panic. Just a flicker of tension. Your instincts are trying to whisper a warning you can’t quite hear. The air hums strangely. The cave itself feels warped around her.

!!!

You feel it.

!!!

But you shove it down.

Now isn’t the time. She’s here. She came for you. That has to count for something.

“Morgan?” you ask, voice soft.

She doesn’t turn at first. When she does, her smile is easy. Reassuring. Familiar.

“Yeah?”

You pause… 

DANGER.

... then smile back. “Thanks. For getting me out.”

“Of course,” she says, already turning away.

“We had a deal, didn’t we? You and me—we always look out for each other.”

You nod, forcing the knot in your gut to loosen.

Just nerves. Just stress.

And you follow her into the dark.

 ༻⊰───⋅

Sooo... I'm back, and I’ve decided to finish this once and for all!

It’s been over a year, hehe... My bad! My senior year really took a toll on me.

I’m currently working on college applications >< I got accepted into everything I applied for, but next year, if all goes well, I’ll be transferring to Auzzieland!

Also... Sorry about the taglist... Kinda lost the list & It's been so long I'm not too sure people are still interested!

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

Something About Curly Hair and Any Character You Have in Mind

I've always had a fantasy of someone playing with my curls. Delicately pulling on them, like a kid pulling on a string. Playfully and adoringly watching the curl bounce back. Maybe the person could even praise it, saying it's cute, or beautiful, or mesmerising. Especially if they don't have curly hair.

A few minutes ago, my girl friend did it to me, exactly how I've always dreamed, even if inside I wanted to pull away, afraid that she would mess it up, I didn't, and she didn't, and even if she did, I wouldn't care, because I'm starved. So here's this little scenario that I finally felt courage and inspiration to write.

This was written based on my own experience having 123B hair, that has some volume on it (how do you even measure that??), with definition, so you must imagine it was very indulgent.

Also works for Readers of any race!!!! I just specify they have natural curls, didn't even mention the colour.

Gn!Reader and Gn!Character so you reaaaally can imagine whoever you want. But the character probably doesn't have curly hair, and learns to do different hairstyles on you (it's different doing it on yourself and then doing on other people, so you still can imagine any gender or appearance on them). Sex is mentioned. I'm tagging this with the first characters that come to my mind while writing this, just to make it easier.

Might edit this later because it's currently 3am and I'm sleepy as fuck

Divider

They love you. That means they love everything about you. And they love your hair.

They think the volume is sexy. Think clouds can't be softer. Think the way the light reflects on it is ethereal. Think the curls smells heavenly. Think the shape is unmatched.

When you move your hair, it's like being a kid and having a first crush again. Especially if the action causes the delicate smell of it travel through the air faster than they can blink, and they're swallowed in a fog of you.

When you sleep in the same bed together for the first time, and every other time after, they like to wake up before you. Just to admire your peacefull beauty for a while. Like the rest of the world doesn't exist. That's the best way to start a day.

Sometimes, boredom doesn't get to them because tracing curl patterns in your hair with their eyes is entertainment for a lifetime. Never before have they noticed that someone can have more than one curl texture, and how unique and perfect that mixture can look.

There's moments where they get distracted by you. You, taking their attention from something supposedly more important at that moment. Either you smell too nice, or look too good, or shine too bright. And they just can't seem to find anything more interesting than looking at you and your hair.

The first time they touched it, they were surprised by how soft it was, like cotton. Almost weightless, despite it's volume and length. Other people's hair surely doesn't feel like this. They spend so much time touching it the first time, that you have to ask them to stop, or you wouldn't have a nice hair day the next day. They looked like a kicked puppy, so you taught them to gently scrunch from the bottom.

They think bonnets are funny at first, but not in a bad way. They're not laughing at you. Mostly giggling, actually. They understand you may have needed some courage to look like this with them around. And it's like a tiny, almost nonexistent, relationship goal. To be intimate enough to feel confortable wearing a bonnet in front of your partner. And they love that you have no problem doing it.

They even buy silk sheets and pillows if it might help you. It might be morte confortable and not mess with your hair. And they understands sex while having curly hair might be frustrating at times.

Speaking of, they won't pull or mess with it unless you ask for it. They took very seriously your lesson from the first time. And if you have some instructions to give them on how to do it while causing less damage, then you certainly will lift a weight off some shoulders.

Oh, and the difference of how it looks when it's wet and then dry? They can't believe their eyes for a moment. Logic seems to escape. It feels impossible. But it isn't. And they're amazed. Almost jealous for not being as gorgeous as you. They understand why someone would be jealous of you.

Actually, they partially think others should be. If someone dares to utter you are less than stunning, then oh boy. God help them.

Any styling is great. And they're so in love with you, so focused on you, eyes solely on you, that they think no hairstyle looks as good on other people, as they look on you. Even if you hate it, he thinks it looks way better than it would have on anyone else.

Also, they learn some things. They learns to curl with their fingers, how to put on clips, how to do some braids, or buns, or pigtains, or anything you wear often. Even something you never did, but they think will make you ethereal, they will do it on you. They might not even teach you, just so you'll need them for something.

They feel part of their heart breaking if you straighten it. Sure it looks good. If it makes you happy, than they're happy. But it's far from a favorite look on you. It's not the natural you. And they love you. They might love a modified version of you, but only because they love you. Just the way you are.

And if you ever feel insecure, I assure you, they're gonna fix you right up.

Like, comment and reblog 🥰

[urdreamydoodles]

Bat-Family x Fem!OC

You smacks their ass as they walk past

Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne (aged up), Barbara Gordon, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain, Duke Thomas, Selina Kyle & Kate Kane

Jason Todd aka. Red Hood

- You never imagined how someone like Jason Todd could hold himself with such a dangerous blend of confidence and recklessness. He walks like he owns every inch of ground he treads, his leather jacket slung over his shoulders, the red of his helmet tucked under his arm. You don’t know what possesses you when you walk past him, catching a glimpse of his lean frame and the cocky smirk tugging at his lips. Maybe it’s the sheer magnetism he exudes, or maybe you just can’t help yourself. Your hand reaches out, and you deliver a sharp, playful smack to his rear as you stride by.

- Jason freezes mid-step, his body going rigid for a split second before he turns to face you, an incredulous look spreading across his face. “Did you just—” he begins, his voice caught somewhere between outrage and amusement. But then that signature smirk of his grows wider, sharper, and his blue eyes gleam with a dangerous, playful edge. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that,” he teases, advancing toward you with a slow, deliberate menace that’s all bark and no real bite. You laugh, the sound light and carefree, because you know Jason’s ire is more for show than anything else.

- He catches you around the waist, pulling you into his arms with ease, the leather of his jacket brushing against your skin. “You’re bold, I’ll give you that,” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing as his lips ghost over your ear. “But you’re not getting away with it.” There’s an edge of fondness in his tone, a warmth that softens his usual bravado. Jason Todd, the Red Hood, may wear his scars like armor, but when he’s with you, he’s softer, more human. You bring out a side of him that no one else gets to see, and he revels in the feeling of being seen by you, flaws and all.

- Later, as you sit curled up on the couch together, his hand resting casually on your thigh, he leans over and murmurs, “Next time, warn me before you do something like that. I might just enjoy it a little too much.” He grins at your surprised expression, his laughter rich and unrestrained. Jason Todd is a man of contradictions—gritty and rough around the edges, yet tender and fiercely loyal to those he loves. And in that moment, as he looks at you like you hung the moon, you know you’ll always be the exception to his every rule.

Dick Grayson aka. Nightwing

- It’s hard not to admire Dick Grayson as he moves with a fluid grace that’s almost otherworldly, every step a testament to his years as an acrobat. He’s the kind of man who lights up a room without even trying, his smile warm enough to melt the iciest of hearts. As he passes by you, his toned physique impossible to ignore, you act on a mischievous whim. Your hand darts out, delivering a quick slap to his behind, the sharp sound echoing in the quiet space.

- Dick stops in his tracks, his back straightening as he turns to face you, his expression a mix of surprise and amusement. “Did you really just do that?” he asks, his tone playful as he raises an eyebrow at you. But the corners of his lips are already twitching upward, his blue eyes sparkling with laughter. “You know I have a reputation to maintain, right? What if someone saw?” His words are teasing, but there’s no mistaking the delight in his voice.

- He crosses the room in a few quick strides, pulling you into his arms with that effortless charm of his. “You’re lucky you’re adorable,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. His hands settle on your hips, his touch warm and grounding as he looks at you with a fondness that makes your heart skip a beat. Dick Grayson has always been a people person, someone who gives his all to everyone he meets, but with you, it’s different. With you, he lets his guard down completely, his love unfiltered and true.

- Later, as the two of you sit on the rooftop, the city sprawled out before you, he leans back on his hands and chuckles. “You’ve got some nerve, you know that?” he says, glancing over at you with a grin that’s equal parts exasperated and enamored. “But I love it. I love you.” In that moment, with the stars above and his hand brushing against yours, you realize that Dick’s love is the kind that makes you feel like you’re flying, weightless and free.

Tim Drake aka. Red Robin

- Tim Drake has always been the picture of focus and determination, his mind a labyrinth of strategies and contingencies. He’s the kind of man who gets lost in his work, his attention consumed by the mysteries he seeks to unravel. But as he walks past you, his nose buried in a tablet, you decide to do something to pull him out of his reverie. With a playful grin, you reach out and smack his rear, the sound sharp and unmistakable.

- Tim freezes, his eyes widening as he processes what just happened. Slowly, he turns to face you, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush. “Did you just…?” he begins, his voice faltering as he searches for the right words. He’s flustered, his usual composure slipping as he stares at you, half-amused and half-embarrassed. “I didn’t see that coming,” he admits, a small, awkward laugh escaping him. For someone so perceptive, you’ve managed to catch him completely off-guard.

- He sets his tablet down, his curiosity piqued as he steps closer to you. “Care to explain yourself?” he asks, his tone light and teasing as he folds his arms across his chest. But there’s a softness in his eyes, a quiet affection that belies his playful demeanor. Tim isn’t one to let his guard down easily, but with you, he doesn’t have to try. You bring a sense of ease to his life, a warmth that balances out the weight of his responsibilities.

- Later, as he sits beside you on the couch, his arm draped casually around your shoulders, he glances at you and smiles. “You’re something else, you know that?” he says, his voice filled with admiration. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Tim Drake may be the genius detective, always one step ahead of everyone else, but with you, he’s just Tim—a man who’s hopelessly in love with the person who keeps him on his toes.

Damian Wayne aka. Robin (Aged up)

- Damian Wayne walks with the confidence of someone who’s spent his entire life being told he’s destined for greatness. There’s a regal air about him, a sharpness in his gaze that makes people think twice before crossing him. But as he passes by you, his posture impeccable and his expression carefully composed, you decide to test the waters of his stoic exterior. Your hand darts out, delivering a swift smack to his rear.

- He stops abruptly, his head snapping around to look at you with wide, disbelieving eyes. “Did you just…” he starts, his voice laced with both outrage and confusion. For a moment, he seems utterly at a loss, his usual composure shattered by your unexpected audacity. But then his lips press into a thin line, and he narrows his eyes at you. “You’re insufferable,” he declares, though the faint pink tinting his cheeks betrays his embarrassment.

- Damian steps closer to you, his arms crossed over his chest as he fixes you with a glare that’s more bluster than anything else. “Do you think this is some kind of joke?” he demands, his tone sharp. But there’s a flicker of something softer in his eyes, a warmth that he can’t quite hide. Damian may be the heir to the League of Assassins, but with you, he’s just a young man learning how to navigate the complexities of love and vulnerability.

- Later, as the two of you spar in the training room, he catches your wrist mid-strike, his grip firm but gentle. “You’re infuriating,” he says, his voice low and almost fond. “But I suppose I wouldn’t have you any other way.” Damian Wayne may be a warrior at heart, but when he’s with you, he allows himself to be just Damian—a boy who’s discovering that love is the greatest strength of all.

Barbara Gordon aka. Oracle / Batgirl

- Barbara Gordon is a force to be reckoned with, her mind as sharp as her combat skills. She moves with a quiet confidence, her every action deliberate and precise. As she walks past you, her auburn hair catching the light, you feel a sudden surge of mischief. Before you can think twice, your hand reaches out, delivering a playful smack to her rear.

- She stops mid-stride, her head tilting to the side as she turns to look at you, one eyebrow raised. “Really?” she says, her tone dripping with amusement. There’s a playful glint in her green eyes, and you can tell she’s already plotting her revenge. Barbara is nothing if not quick on her feet, and you know she won’t let you off the hook easily. “You realize you’ve just declared war, right?” she teases, a sly smile spreading across her face.

- Barbara steps closer, her hands resting on her hips as she looks you up and down, clearly unimpressed by your attempt to play innocent. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she says, her voice warm and affectionate despite her mock-annoyance. With you, she allows herself to be vulnerable, to let go of the weight of being both Oracle and Batgirl. You remind her that it’s okay to laugh, to let her guard down, and to simply be herself.

- Later, as the two of you sit in front of her computer, the glow of the screens casting a soft light over her features, she leans over and presses a kiss to your temple. “You’re impossible,” she murmurs, her voice filled with affection. “But you keep things interesting.” Barbara Gordon may be a genius, a fighter, and a hero, but with you, she’s just Barbara—a woman who’s found someone who makes her feel alive in a way she never thought possible.

Stephanie Brown aka. Spoiler

- Stephanie Brown has always been a whirlwind of energy and determination, her spirit unrelenting even in the face of impossible odds. She walks past you with that carefree confidence she wears like armor, her blonde hair bouncing with every step. You can’t help but admire the way she carries herself, equal parts stubborn and radiant. Acting on impulse, you reach out and give her a playful smack on the rear as she strides by.

- She stops dead in her tracks, her head whipping around to face you. “Excuse me?” she exclaims, her voice full of mock indignation, though the corners of her lips are already curling into a mischievous smile. “Did you just Spank the Spoiler?” she asks, emphasizing her vigilante codename with a dramatic flair. Stephanie has never been one to take herself too seriously, and you can see the spark of amusement in her bright eyes as she folds her arms, pretending to be offended.

- In a flash, she’s back at your side, poking you in the ribs as she laughs. “Oh, you’re so in trouble now,” she teases, her voice light and full of affection. There’s something infectious about her laughter, a sound that seems to chase away the shadows in your life. Stephanie Brown is a fighter, yes, but she’s also someone who finds joy even in the smallest, silliest moments. She loves fiercely, and her heart is as big as her grin.

- Later, as you both sit on the couch sharing popcorn and bad movies, she nudges your shoulder and gives you a cheeky grin. “Next time, maybe warn me,” she says, her tone teasing. “Or don’t. I kind of like being caught off guard.” Stephanie leans against you, her warmth enveloping you like a cozy blanket. With her, life is always an adventure—messy, unpredictable, and full of laughter.

Cassandra Cain aka. Orphan

- Cassandra Cain moves like a shadow, her every step silent and purposeful. She walks past you with a grace that’s almost hypnotic, her petite frame radiating a quiet strength. You’ve always admired her discipline, her ability to say so much without uttering a single word. But today, you decide to shake up her composure. As she walks by, you reach out and deliver a playful smack to her rear, the sound breaking the otherwise tranquil air.

- Cassandra stops, her body going still as a statue. Slowly, she turns her head to look at you, her dark eyes wide with surprise. She blinks, clearly unsure of how to process what just happened. Then, to your delight, the faintest smile tugs at the corners of her lips—a rare and precious expression that feels like a reward in itself. “Why?” she asks simply, her voice soft but curious. It’s not anger or embarrassment, just genuine intrigue.

- You shrug, offering her a cheeky grin. “Because I couldn’t resist,” you reply, watching as her smile grows just a little wider. Cassandra doesn’t say much, but the way she steps closer, her hand brushing yours, says everything. She’s always been more comfortable expressing herself through action, and with you, she doesn’t need words to show her affection. Her trust in you is absolute, her love quiet but deeply felt.

- Later, as you sit together on the floor, her head resting on your shoulder while you read, she lifts her gaze to meet yours. “You surprise me,” she says softly, her voice filled with warmth. “It’s good.” Cassandra Cain may be the most skilled fighter you’ve ever met, but in your arms, she’s just Cass—a woman who’s learning to embrace the lighter, softer side of life.

Duke Thomas aka. Signal

- Duke Thomas strides through life with an easy confidence, his optimism shining as brightly as the sunlight he manipulates. He walks past you with a casual swagger, his golden-brown eyes warm and inviting. As he passes by, you can’t help but admire the way he carries himself—steady, resilient, and undeniably charming. Acting on a whim, you reach out and smack his rear, the playful gesture a stark contrast to his calm demeanor.

- Duke pauses, his head turning as a look of amused disbelief spreads across his face. “Really?” he says, raising an eyebrow as a slow grin tugs at his lips. “You’re bold, I’ll give you that.” There’s no annoyance in his tone, just pure, unfiltered amusement. Duke has always been good at rolling with life’s surprises, and this one is no exception. He steps closer to you, crossing his arms and tilting his head. “Should I be flattered or concerned?”

- You laugh, and the sound makes his grin widen. Duke’s hand rests lightly on your hip as he leans in, his voice dropping to a low, playful murmur. “You know, you’re going to pay for that, right?” he teases, his tone laced with affection. With you, Duke’s natural warmth grows even brighter, his easygoing nature making every moment with him feel effortless and fun. He’s the kind of man who makes you feel like the center of his world without even trying.

- Later, as the two of you watch the sunset from the rooftop, he nudges you gently with his shoulder. “You’re something else, you know that?” he says, his tone soft and sincere. “But I wouldn’t change a thing.” Duke Thomas is a beacon of light in a world full of shadows, and with you by his side, his glow only grows stronger.

Selina Kyle aka. Catwoman

- Selina Kyle is the embodiment of elegance and mischief, her every move a calculated blend of grace and seduction. She walks past you with the confidence of a queen, her hips swaying in a way that’s almost hypnotic. You can’t resist the temptation she so effortlessly exudes, and before you can think better of it, your hand darts out to smack her rear as she passes by.

- She stops, one perfectly manicured hand resting on her hip as she turns to face you, a single eyebrow arched. “Oh, darling,” she purrs, her voice smooth as silk, “you’re playing a dangerous game.” There’s no anger in her tone, only amusement, her green eyes gleaming with a predatory kind of delight. Selina loves a good challenge, and you’ve just given her the perfect excuse to turn the tables.

- She closes the distance between you in a few fluid steps, her fingers trailing lightly along your jaw as she tilts your face up to meet her gaze. “Careful,” she whispers, her lips curving into a sly smile. “I might just decide to return the favor.” Selina Kyle is a master of control, but with you, she’s willing to let go of the reins—just a little. She loves the way you keep her on her toes, the way you’re unafraid to meet her at her level.

- Later, as the two of you lounge on the balcony, the city lights twinkling below, she leans against you, her head resting on your shoulder. “You’re lucky I like you,” she says with a soft laugh, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm. Selina Kyle may be the infamous Catwoman, a thief who’s always one step ahead, but with you, she’s just Selina—a woman who’s found someone who can keep up with her.

Kate Kane aka. Batwoman

- Kate Kane walks with the authority of someone who’s seen it all and refuses to back down. Her stride is purposeful, her crimson hair a striking contrast against the stark black of her attire. As she passes by, her no-nonsense demeanor is enough to make most people think twice about approaching her. But not you. With a playful grin, you reach out and smack her rear, the sound sharp and deliberate.

- She stops in her tracks, her head turning slowly as she fixes you with a piercing gaze. “Really?” she asks, her tone dry but laced with amusement. “That’s how you want to play this?” There’s no real annoyance in her voice, just a hint of disbelief mixed with a begrudging smile. Kate Kane doesn’t do surprises often, but you’ve managed to catch her off guard in the best way possible.

- She steps closer, her arms crossed as she looks you up and down, clearly unimpressed by your attempt to play innocent. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that,” she says, her voice low and teasing. But there’s a warmth in her eyes, a softness she reserves only for you. Kate may be tough as nails, but with you, she allows herself to be vulnerable, to let down the walls she’s spent years building.

- Later, as the two of you sit by the fire with glasses of whiskey in hand, she leans over and presses a kiss to your temple. “You’re impossible,” she mutters, though there’s no mistaking the affection in her voice. Kate Kane may be Batwoman, a hero who stands alone in the darkest of nights, but with you, she’s just Kate—a woman who’s found a love worth fighting for.

[yandere-wishes]

༺ 𝐻𝑜𝓌 𝒹𝑜 𝒮𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝒶 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐵𝓇𝓊𝒸𝑒 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒟𝒶𝓂𝒾𝒶𝓃'𝓈 𝒸𝓇𝓊𝓈𝒽 𝑜𝓃 𝒞𝒶𝓇𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁? ༻

ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎

The problem with bats is that they tend to solely rely on their instincts, their carvings. They tend to forget their surroundings, that other creatures exist as much as they do.

Selina rings her arms around your frame pushing you closer, nose nuzzling your ear and cheek. Her hug only loosens when she hears the bat speak his echolocation ringing clearly through her ears.

"Daimian brought her home last, he's...he has a crush, I think."

Wasn't there some sort of new bat-eating fungus discovered in the north?

For a moment she debates asking Oswald to export in a batch or two.

"It's inevitable," Selina says, laying a bowl of food at the foot of the counter for the cats. Exhaustion seeps through her words, she speaks from experience, experience too deep to voice. "Bats are tenacious rodents, and robins are hard to kill. Mix that with demons blood and I'd say we're just about doomed." Your eyes stare up at her, even sideways, and anxious she's gorgeous. You'd always dreamed you'd grow up to be her. Inherit the claws and whip and lust for the endless shimmer.

But you're starting to think you'll never make it to that.

Not with the bird, who shows affection by breaking bones and spilling blood.

Selina doesn't like it, not fully, not utterly. She doesn't trust the boy wonder, doesn't trust a future she can not see. The boy is young and overbearing, he'll only end up trapping you within a glittering cage. Domesticating the girl he loves, satiating her by handing her pearls and diamonds and gold. He won't let her take, won't let her bleed for own life. She's seen one too many men like that, she's escaped every one of them. The bat may believe in freedom but his heir does not. And after all this time, all these years she refuses to let your sovereignty be stripped of you.

Be silent thy traitorous voices screaming sanguinity inside her wry head.

Voices that utter such affirmations, that say this is destiny, that this too must happen. Who safer than the son of the bat, the blood son at that? Freaks stick to freaks, masks, and capes, and cowls. Selina would never trust a normal man to treat you the way you deserve...

But she knows a Wayne never could either...

Selina watches as the Boy Wonder's kick nests in between your ribs. He wasted no time, swinging straight for you. Your body tumbles back, finally gaining enough momentum to filp landing on your feet, knees bent ready to pounce. Your claws tear through the flesh of his cheek, scrapping up the skin, freeing the red letting it mar the concrete. But the bird only slithers in closer, pecking your lips before, slamming his head into yours. Selina's eyes land on the bat, the darkness at the ledge, he stands immobile, as if actually watching a cat and bird fight, as if thinking this is nothing more than a cartoon playing at the drive-through theater.

She extends her whip, lashing it through the air letting the leather coil around Damian before pulling him away. The demon boy shrieks in anger, he kicks, and writhes vying for freedom. You land behind your mentor, hiding behind her. For the first time ever Selina is almost sorry her suit is so tight, sorry she can't provide more shelter.

"Can you please keep this one a leash, bats? It's starting to annoy my kitten."

Batman doesn't say anything, he only cuts away the rope and drags his son away.

"Aren't bats just rodents?" You ask arms crossed as you finally crawl out of your temporary sanctuary.

"Yes, why?" It takes Selina another moment before she finally tears her eyes away from the disappearing silhouettes in the skyline.

"So why haven't we just killed them?"

It's only back in the apartment that both you and Selina realize he took your stolen jewels too.

Selina curses she really liked that new necklace.

This could all be a cruel joke, Bruce thinks as he watches Damian sulking on his bed, arms crossed. Robin suit still on.

After all, what's funnier than the son you unknowingly sired with your ex-lover falling so madly in love with the adopted daughter of your complex midnight affair, who you may or may not be madly in love with...

Bruce can't think of one,

He doesn't even think Joker could come up with anything better.

Or worst.

He's too tired to fully tell.

"Hey, Bruce?" Tim asks, poking him with the sharp end of a frame. "Can you hand him this when he's done brooding? I'd go in but I need my bones intact for the next few days." Bruce sighs, taking the frame from Tim and inspecting it with worry. Sure enough, it's a picture of you crouching in an ally, stalking some prey or another.

He can't help but think his sons are progressively getting worse.

Regardless Bruce leaves the frame in Damian's room.

When he closes the door a little pride bubbles in his chest.

Bruce knows that freaks stick to freaks.

Masks, and capes, and cowls.

Who better to understand you than another who wears your endeavors?

Who can love an anomaly if not for another anomaly?

Bruce leaves, missing how the young heir, gently kisses your photo.

Running his hands across your photo, muttering a silent, simple 'I love you'.

Damian pricks his finger on his tooth.

Drawing a bloody heart around your face.

"You'll be mine my love" he promises.

He swears it on his cape and cowl.

He swears it on his lineage.

Tumblr keeps eating my asks when I try to answer 😭😭

But anyway heyy Anon, so to answer your question:

Selina is torn because she wants you to be free and live the life you want. This includes picking who you fall in love with and how the two of you spend your lives together. She finds Damian's obsession annoying, if not dangerous. She knows he'll try to "domesticate" you, to make you into nothing more than his doll. And really she just wants to buy you as much time as possible to be free. However, she also knows, deep down, that the only person who can really understand you is another "freak" whether a rogue or a hero. Someone who knows what it's like to wear a second skin. She just really wants you to pick who that "freak" is.

Bruce on the other hand is simultaneously proud and amused. A part of him really really understands why Damian would fall in love with Catgirl. It just goes to show how similar Damian is to him. A chip off the old block if you will. He also shares both Damian's perspective of seeing this all as legacy, as passing on the torch, feeling like in a way Damian is really ready to step in as the next Batman if need be. He however also shares Selina's perspective of "freaks" being with "freaks", really approving of his son falling for someone with obsessions and desires, someone twisted like they are.

[charlotteking27]

Sick Day! 🤒

Oh to have a rich boyfriend like Bruce 😢

Also, I wanted to say this art is not mine and credit whoever made this amazing arts.

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

We need a part two of the harley quinn mother headcanons!

SUGAR & SPICE!

pairings ⸺ Mother! Harley Quinn x Teen! Reader.

(PLATONIC FIC)

¿Request? Yes!

This is a Headcanon!

sinopsis ⸺ Every mother reaches the moment when she sees her chick starting to become independent from the nest. Harley loved you from the moment she found you in that abandoned alley, and now she finds it hard to accept that you are drifting away.

If she knew why you were leaving her behind, she would probably be thinking about putting Robin in the oven.

warnings ⸺ Fluff and Angst, Platonic Cuddling, ¿OOC Harley? Idk, Disturbing Content, Street Fights, Violence, Trauma.

A/N ── Honestly, I didn't plan on making a continuation of that headcanon, but since you asked (and your requests are sacred to me), here it is! Shoutout to @animequeen4 for the inspiration too!

Pt.3

When you grow up as the child of one of the most notorious supervillains in Gotham, things get a bit complicated. Harley knew this since you entered school, and especially since she separated from the Joker. She had prepared for everything: to protect you from clowns, snakes, and even snakes disguised as clowns. But what she didn't see coming, what truly drove her crazy, was the biggest challenge of all: your adolescence.

Harley noticed it almost immediately. At first, it was small things. Like how you no longer wanted to listen to the music she played at full volume in the lair. Instead, you started listening to your own songs, the ones she described as "unbearable noise." Then came the decoration of your room, which went from posters of heroes and villains to something "weird," according to Harley. “Since when do you like bats so much?” she would say with an eyebrow raised. But what broke her heart the most was when you stopped letting her dress you. She got frustrated every time she tried to put something on you that she thought looked great, and you would just say, "No, mom, I don't like that anymore."

But the worst, the worst of all, was when you entered high school. You made friends. Friends whose names Harley didn't even know. Horrible! For someone like her, who was used to knowing all the details of your life, that was the worst that could happen. And on top of that, you no longer asked for permission to do things! The worst part was that she had raised you "well" (according to her criteria), so she didn't understand how you ended up at the police station several times for vandalism and disturbances.

"I raised you better than this!" she would shout, completely indignant, while signing the papers to get you out of another detention. Inside, she knew you were going through that rebellious phase, but that didn't make it any easier to cope.

One day, Harley stood at the door of your room, frustrated because you didn't even ask her for help with your math problems anymore. She stared at you, her hands on her hips, and exclaimed, “Look, little birdie, I get you! I know you're growing up and all that, but can you please stop doing it so fast? You're slipping through my fingers!”

It was a mix of desperation and tenderness. Harley wasn't ready to see you grow up. She knew you were becoming more independent, but in her heart, you would always be her little one. And even though she got frustrated with all these changes, with every new friend or every time you snuck out to go to a party, deep down she just wanted to make sure you were okay.

Puberty was a roller coaster, and Harley was starting to realize that nothing in her villain life had prepared her to deal with it. The first thing she noticed was that you no longer wanted to go out with her for taco Fridays with the girls. Those days when they went shopping, wore neon clothes, and had laughs while window shopping stopped being your thing. Harley watched you from the doorframe, taco in hand, saying, “What happened to my buddy? Where's the kid who loved to eat until stuffed full of carnitas?”

Sometimes, Harley tried not to take it to heart, but it was hard. She crumbled a little every time you locked yourself in your room instead of watching her roll around on the sofas with the Birds of Prey or with the Sirens, planning their next crazy scheme. It was then that she realized she needed help. So, as a good mother (or as close as she could get), she turned to the only person who could understand her frustration... Catwoman.

But the chat with Selina wasn’t exactly helpful. “Harley, sweetheart, I don’t mix with kids. I don’t know what you want me to tell you, mine has four legs and purrs,” Selina said, taking a sip of her martini while checking out a new leather whip. It was a "thanks, but no thanks," and Harley left with more questions than answers.

Next stop: Ivy. Harley had high hopes that Ivy, with her serenity and green wisdom, would give her the key to understanding you better. But Ivy just shrugged and said, “Plants grow, Harley. Just like kids. You can't stop the natural process.” Harley frowned. “And what do I do when they doesn’t want to tell me who he's with all day?” Ivy, very zen, replied, “You could always... spy ” It wasn't exactly the help she was looking for.

After exhausting her resources with the girls, Harley did the unthinkable: she turned to Batman. Yes, Batman! In a conversation that turned out to be as awkward as it was effective, the Dark Knight explained to her what he had learned from raising his multiple Robins: “It's part of growing up. You just have to be there, but give them space. You can't control everything.”

Harley, of course, took it with her usual dramatism: “Give them space!? But they doesn’t even want to go for tacos anymore!?” It was as if the world had turned upside down.

Meanwhile, at school, things weren’t going smoothly either. Your new “friends” were... questionable. People that Harley, if she had known, would have kicked out. But, for your luck (or misfortune), those friends didn’t last long. In the end, the problems they brought with them distanced you from them, and unexpectedly, you found yourself spending more time with Damian again. Harley, of course, had no idea about this. To her, Damian was just the rude boy you sometimes talked to.

There was always something about him that intrigued you, and despite his constant grumbling and "I don't care" attitude, you managed to see beyond that. Between talks about anything (and often about nothing), Damian became someone important to you. Harley had no idea about this mini romance, because if she did, she would probably already be plotting a plan to scare the Wayne boy. “If you think he’s cute, go for it,” she had once said with a mischievous wink. And although she didn't think you would take it seriously, here you were, emotionally entangled with Batman’s son, even though at that time you didn't know he was Batman's son.

It all started with an idea that, in retrospect, wasn’t the best: throwing paint cans at Robin. In your defense, it sounded like a funny prank at the moment. What you didn't calculate was that Robin, being Damian Wayne, wasn’t exactly easy to evade. You ran as if your life depended on it, covering almost twenty kilometers, and the most frustrating part was that he wasn’t even sweating. Every time you turned to see if you had lost him, there he was, impeccable, with that unfriendly look and his expression of "When I catch you, say goodbye to your legs."

When he finally threw you to the ground, ready to give you the lesson of your life, you looked at him more closely. That perfectly styled hair, that look of a thousand deaths, and the sarcasm in every phrase... "Damian?!" you shouted, more out of disbelief than fear. Because, of course, it turns out your boyfriend wasn’t just a rude jerk, but also the damn Robin. The pieces finally fell into place, and you didn’t know whether to laugh or feel betrayed. In the end, you did both.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he reprimanded you with that authoritative voice he usually reserved for criminals and his family. "Throwing paint? Seriously?"

The funny thing is that, even though you were completely exhausted from the chase, your brain didn’t stop working. So instead of apologizing like a normal person, you shrugged and said, "At least it wasn't green paint. That would have been offensive." He didn’t find it so funny.

From that moment on, the romantic dates became something much more... practical. Damian decided that if you were going to get into trouble, at least you should know how to defend yourself, so starry night strolls turned into intense self-defense training sessions. "Nothing says 'I love you' like a well-placed punch," you thought every time Damian corrected your stance. And although at first you considered it the least romantic of gestures, there was something sweet about how he insisted on keeping you safe.

Of course, these "dates" weren’t just training. Eventually, you met Jon Kent, the super-sweet boy who contrasted so much with Damian's serious personality. The trio you formed was a disaster waiting to happen, yet somehow it worked. Between secret missions, night escapades, and 'lots of fun,' the three of you became inseparable. But it was all super secret, because if Batman found out, well, the reprimand wouldn’t be exactly gentle. And Harley... well, don’t even think about what Harley would say if she found out.

But Harley, being Harley, didn’t take long to notice the changes. For her, it was alarming to see how her kid, her little birdie, was starting to come home late through the window, with two colors in his hair that reminded her a bit of her own lifestyle, and some bruises that you, of course, tried to hide. "Did you fall down the stairs again? Seriously?" she would ask skeptically while helping you tend to your wounds.

Her biggest fear wasn’t that you would get into minor trouble, but that he would have come back. Harley began to suspect that the Joker had found you, and that kept her in a constant state of alert. She watched you more closely, trying not to show it, but it was obvious. Nights with Damian always seemed to fly by. Between training, talks, and that connection you both shared, the hours slipped away without either of you noticing. That was how it happened that one particular night, after a long and exhausting session, he decided to walk you home. Not that you needed it, you were perfectly capable of getting home on your own (or so you said), but Damian liked to make sure you got home safely. Plus, it was an excuse to spend more time together.

It was already four in the morning, and you were ready to say goodbye with a kiss when suddenly, three giant hyenas sprang out from under your bed, and Harley, in full ninja mode, dropped from the ceiling with a baseball bat in hand. "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!"

You had to close the window, leaving Damian outside, to prevent your mom and the hyenas from getting to the "mom, chill," you tried to calm her, putting yourself between them. "It's not what it looks like."

"Oh no! It looks like you're turning into a mini-Harley with a boyfriend and everything, and I'm not going to sit back and watch how they break your heart like that stupid clown broke mine!"

But you managed to slow her down, and with Harley calmed down (more or less), the tension of the moment seemed to dissolve, but she didn’t stop there. The next morning, she showed up at the Batcave (Only God knows how she found the Batcave), furious, and ready to confront Batman for allowing his son to "seduce" her little birdie. "What kind of father lets his son stay out late with my kid?! This is unacceptable!"

Bruce, who was busy with his screens, barely looked up. He listened to Harley’s furious monologue while maintaining his typical calm posture, nodding from time to time. When Harley finished, he just raised his thumb calmly, as if giving his approval. "Damian has good taste," was all he said.

"That doesn’t help me, Bats!" Harley exclaimed, frustrated. But Bruce, in his minimalist style, simply added, "You... should spend more time with your kid, Harley. Don’t worry so much. And if you need help, just let me know."

Harley was left speechless. It wasn’t the response she expected, but deep down, she knew Batman was right. She sighed and, resigned, left without more than a warning for Bruce: "Just because you told me that doesn’t mean I won’t hit you with my bat if things go wrong."

But the truth is that as Harley made her way home, she reflected a little. You were growing up, and although she didn’t like it, it was part of life. You couldn’t be her little one forever, and while the fear of losing you was always present, she knew she had to trust you. After all, she had raised you well (in her own way), and now she could only let you fly a little, like that little bird she often mentioned.

Back at home, she found you lying on the couch, still with some paint in your hair from the prank on Damian. Harley watched you for a while, noticing how much you had grown. Not just in height, but in attitude. The way you had started to move through the world, making your own decisions, forming relationships outside the little universe she had built for you. And that, even though she sometimes denied it, hurt her a little. She sat on the edge of the couch, sighing as she stroked your messy hair.

Harley noticed it before anyone. First, you stopped getting excited about taco Fridays with the girls or going out to dye your hair neon. Then, it was the uncomfortable silence when you no longer sought her advice for anything. You had become more independent, but Harley only saw you drifting away.

Harley sighed and looked at you with a mix of nostalgia and worry. “You’re growing up... and even though I hate it, I know I can’t stop it. I just want you to know that you will always be my little birdie. No matter how big you get, you will always have a place with me.”

You stayed silent, noticing how difficult it was for her to say it. Harley had been many things, but she had never stopped being your mother. You smiled at her and nodded, feeling a familiar warmth in your chest. "I love you too, mom. I promise I’m not drifting away, I’m just... growing."

Harley gave you a tight hug, and in that moment, you knew that even though everything might change, you would always find that common ground, whether it was stealing marshmallows or just sharing a night under the stars. "Puberty sucks," Harley joked, and for the first time in a long time, you both laughed together.

As the hug lingered, you felt how the outside world faded away, leaving only Harley and you in a bubble of safety and love. "I’ll be here, always ready for you, even if sometimes I’m a little... crazy,” she replied with a soft laugh. “But you know that’s what makes everything more fun, right?”

You nodded, and inside, the worry you had felt about drifting away from her faded. There was comfort in knowing that even though the road ahead might be complicated and full of challenges, you had a beacon lighting your way. A mother who, with her craziness and unconditional love, would always guide you home.

"Let’s promise to do more things together, then," you said with determination. "No matter if it’s stealing candy or painting our nails bright colors. There will always be time for that."

"Deal," said Harley, raising her pinky as if sealing a pact. You smiled and linked it with yours. The connection you shared was stronger than any challenge you could face.

"And when it’s time to face the world, I’ll be your ally," she added, a spark of determination shining in her eyes. "Because we will be a team, always."

After that, everything changed, but for the better. Learning to divide your time between everything you loved wasn’t easy, but you knew you would succeed. After all, you had the strongest support: that of your strange yet endearing family, that of your partner, and above all, that of the best mother you could have ever dreamed of.

A/N ─── Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to request anything, don't hesitate to ask. I read all of your comments and questions!

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