#so she was always fated to be batman... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nikovraskol · 7 months ago

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crack baby ; one

wc ; 3063 masterlist after dying, you expected to be greeted with the open arms of the void swallowing your body, mind and soul. what you didn't anticipate is waking up sixteen once more with a chance to change your fate -- but something strange is happening, why are the locks changing and why are all eyes suddenly on you ? tw ; brief mentions of death, neglect, abuse, curse words

prologue, one, two, three, tbc..

The walls feel different, you’re unsure why or how but they seem almost suffocating, each crevice and crack threatening to suck you up, to consume you and hold you between its atoms until you can’t breathe, until you’re stuck in eternal darkness between the Manor’s walls, ordained to watch your family thrive without you.

Though, that may very well be because of Bruce flipping Wayne walking besides you, an awkward silence stretching between the two of you, his stature large and intimidating, covered in scars from adventures you wouldn’t dare to even dream about.

As the vigilante Batman, you held an undetermined amount of respect for the man. He is Batman, after all. He protects Gotham, and by proxy, he protects you. But as Bruce Wayne, you feel little to nothing for the man.

Sure, the actual sixteen-year-old (Name) would’ve jumped for joy at a chance to even see her father, let alone walk the halls with him, at eighteen there was a period of time where you loathed the man, where you would curse yourself for sharing DNA with him. But you’re technically twenty-one, and twenty-one year old you was grateful to him for housing and feeding her, but resentful for the neglect they faced.

These conflicting emotions inside you mixed together to create a cocktail of complete and utter apathy towards the man.

“Alfred mentioned you didn’t come down for breakfast, you’re growing, you should eat a sufficient amount of food everyday.” His voice broke through the deafening silence, the Manor feeling bigger for some reason as you send him a confused expression, your brows furrowing as you take in your father in earnest.

There wasn’t a time where you had a chance to take him in fully. Aside from when you first came to the manor, but that time was behind you and you made an effort to push anything about that to the back of your mind.

He looked cold, as untouchable as he did on TV, he felt far away despite the fact that he was right beside you. For a moment, you were transported back in time, back to when you’d sit on the floor, knees to your chest as you stared at the old, laggy TV before you.

“You look like him.” Your mother hummed from behind you, she was sat on the old beat-up couch where she slept each night, brushing your hair with the utmost of care as she avoided the man on TV, Bruce Wayne, your alleged father. A smile dawned your face as the flickering of the TV casted an almost eerie glow into your living room, a premonition for what’s to come, evident by the way your mother’s movements grow more rough, by the way her hand curls in your hair, forcing you to look away from the man. You didn’t protest, you knew better.

You look like him? You wouldn’t say so, when you picture yourself you picture your mother – though that may be your bias talking, you’ll always prefer your mother, despite the ache in your heart whenever you think of her.

“Right..” You mumble, not sure how to reply to him. This was uncharted territory! How do you converse with a father who you’ve never spoken to before despite living under the same roof for ten years, despite sharing blood, despite sharing a last name.

You’ve always felt like a black sheep, uninterested in the nitty-gritty of being a vigilante. You had nothing to contribute, in a family where transactions formed bonds, you had nothing to give. You were nothing, not Batman, not Robin, not anyone. Just (Name), like a piece of cheap plastic glued into a small crack on a pristine, porcelain vase. You didn’t belong, you cheapened them all, it’d be better to peel you off.

It’s why they never looked back at you, no matter how much you cried, begged, It’s why Dick would send you a half-hearted grin and a promise of ‘’I’ll take you somewhere later’ to placate your begging, to make you shut up. It’s why Jason would push past you in the hallways, why Tim would blatantly ignore you, and why Damian would sneer whenever he’d see you.

You weren’t able to migrate to Cass or Steph, and by the time Duke had joined, you had already given up on the prospect of forming any meaningful relationship in this Manor and it’s looming walls.

Then suddenly, a thought hits you, a rush of something – this was your perfect chance, you likely wouldn’t see your father again so it’s okay for you to ask now, right? There will be no other chances.

“Can you.. lend me some money?” You ask suddenly, cringing on how that sounds. That isn’t really the best thing to ask the father who you haven’t interacted with for fuck knows how long – he was probably picturing you as some money-hungry leech. Which is fine, his opinion of you meant nothing to you anymore, he can imagine you as whatever he likes.

But you need money if you’re going to live in a half-decent area of Gotham, getting a job and saving money for a house would take too long on a minimum wage salary, and your piggy bank was completely empty, and you couldn’t move cities. Not at sixteen.

“What do you need it for?” Bruce asks, his eyes sliding over to you cooly. A pang of something hitting his gut like a physical blow, his hands clenching as he struggled to look at you for too long. You looked like him.

When Alfred came into his office, sighing about how he was worried for his second-youngest child, Bruce was confused. Tim was fine, he hadn’t gotten hurt on patrol, and he wasn’t sick – at least, to Bruce’s knowledge.

“I’m not talking about Master Tim, I’m speaking of Master (Name), they’re acting in an unusual manner.” Alfred sighs, his gaze narrowing at Bruce – the judgement clouding his gaze heavy as he stares down his master.

“(Name)?” Bruce mumbled, his brow raising – he remembers you. Maybe. He remembers the concept of you, the product of a one-night-stand he had, a child he was forced to take in because of the death of your mother. He remembers the look in your eyes as you stared up at him, and he distinctly remembers the way you had clutched onto his hand, tears pooling your eyes as you sniffled, scared of the world, seeking comfort from the man everyone called your father.

But after that, nothing. His mind drew a blank when it came to picturing you – his first born blood related child, the thought made his stomach churn with guilt. His hand clenching as he avoids Alfred’s disdainful stare.

He tried to read the documents before him once more, his loyal butler’s scornful gaze burning into his back as the guilt in his stomach dug it’s claws into his lungs, squeezing until it became unbearable.

He’ll check on you, he decides. He’ll make an image of your face, that’ll settle the all-too familiar guilt inside him. Or at least, that’s what he told himself as Alfred led him down the familiar halls of his Manor, until he hit the other side – a side untouched ever since Bruce was a child, an area of the Manor he didn’t bother with.

Why were you here? The guilt in his stomach intensified, clawing it’s way up his throat as he reached your door. His hand hovering over the handle. This wouldn’t do. His guilt was increasing, weighing heavy on his back. The silence was unnerving, on the other side of the Manor, where everyone else resided – there was always some sort of background noise.

The silence surrounding your room was sickening, threatening to encase his form. This really wouldn’t do, he’d create an image of your face and move your room, somewhere close to his. Somewhere where he can occasionally drop by, he’ll sedate his guilt surrounding you, cutting off the bud of the problem before it can grow into something deeper, he didn’t have time for any of that as Batman.

And with that, he opened your door.

“I need it to buy a house.” You shrug, feeling a little awkward talking about this with your father. Did he even care? You didn’t think so. Oh goodness, the silence was so stifling you wish you could be shot all over again and–

You stop when you notice he isn’t walking beside you anymore, turning your gaze behind you to take in his expression and– why the fuck does he look shocked?! Your expression scrunches up as you take in thee Bruce Wayne, thee Batman looking at you, completely caught off guard.

It’s an expression you’ll never forget until the day you die.

“Buy a house? Why?” He asks, his lips tugging into a tight line as he stares at you with that same calculating expression, the one that made your nerves stand on end – the one that made each cell in your body burn with the urge to curl into yourself, to appear as small as possible and and plead for mercy. You hate it (It reminds you of her).

“I’m– moving out..” You say, your voice smaller than you had intended. The walls are slowly crushing you, you’re sure. This all feels like a cruel dream, a twist of fate you don’t want to accept. Oh, please, you don’t want that look, you want him to look at you with another expression (with the expression he gives others, the expression of a father),

Bruce paused, his body going rigid as he exhales through his nose – the guilt simmering in his body, each muscle threatening to snap, he hates this feeling. He wants to know you, he wants to know his child, the child tucked into the corner of the Manor. How cruel is fate, to threaten to rip you away, to pluck you from his garden the moment he took notice of your pretty petals.

“Do you have any in mind?” Bruce asks, his head tilting as he scans you from head to toe, his voice growing lower, colder. A familiar rush runs through you, the rush you felt when you were in that piss-soaked alley. The undertone of danger clear – what was his problem?

“I’m not sure yet, but– I saw a nice apartment by Gotham Harbour..” You mutter, your hands wringing behind your back nervously. This was strange, scary, unnerving, anxiety-inducing – pick your damn description! “I’ll.. see about sending you some.” He says gruffly, before nodding and walking away without another word. Instantly, you let out a deep sigh, your hand clutching your heart as you mumble curses, stumbling back to your room. That was–..

If you were actually the sixteen-year-old (Name), you’d probably be on your way to get a tattoo saying ‘my father spoke to me!’, but as you walk down the long, foreboding hallways all you can muster is fear. You don’t know why, but that exchange felt like a catalyst for something big, the future has changed. You’re swallowed by the realization that whatever power you had is slipping away, the future has changed almost comically fast and you’re left standing alone in an abyss of uncertainty.

Something’s going to happen, you just hope you’re not a part of it.

Meanwhile, on the other, brighter side of the sullen Manor, Bruce is brooding in his office, the tick-tocking of the grandfather clock matching the pace of his heartbeat. His dear (Name), his child, moving out? At sixteen? Blasphemous. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing deeply once more, ignoring the pointed look from his youngest son standing before him.

“Father, I believe it’s time to start training. I surmise you haven’t forgotten your promise?” Damian asks, taking in his father’s disgruntled appearance. Strange. It’s certainly not unheard of for Bruce to be in a disheveled state, what with him protecting Gotham every night. But last night was quiet, there wasn’t anything big going on so they were able to take it easy. He should be relaxed, or at least put together.

“Damian, I haven’t the time, Dick is staying in the Manor today, ask him.” Bruce says, standing up from his chair as he walks towards the door – ignoring Damian’s rattled expression, his young son following his footsteps with a huff.

“If I had wanted to train with Richard, I would’ve asked him.” Damian retorts, following his father around with his arms crossed around his chest – miffed by the turn of events. What on earth was keeping his father from training with him? He had been looking forward to this! He continued to protest as they ascended down the stairs, past the living room where Dick was lounging all the way to the kitchen where Alfred was already preparing a feast, the butler diligently working with practised ease.

“Master Bruce, Master Damian.” Alfred greeted, the smell of his cooking wafting through the air as he took in the sight of Bruce’s frown and Damian’s pout, they looked alike, it was almost comical, not that the butler would voice that out loud.

While the old man may seem relaxed, his hands were clenched a little too tightly to pass off as natural. He was waiting with baited breath to see if his plan had borne fruit, if Bruce had managed to find out the reason for your odd behaviour. Of course, Alfred could’ve asked you himself, but you had never been one to open up.

No matter how much the old butler tried, he wasn’t able to break through the walls of defence you had built around yourself during your stay in the Manor, hopefully the man you craved affection from would be enough to crack that impenetrable shield.

“Did you know that (Name) is planning to move out?” Bruce asks suddenly, his blunt words cutting through the mouth-watering aroma of the carefully seasoned chicken in the oven. Bruce’s eyes remain trained on Alfred, watching as his mouth drops slightly. So he didn’t know. He ignores Damian’s aghast expression and Dick who had sauntered in moments ago.

“No.. I wasn’t aware.” That was unexpected, of all the things Bruce could’ve said, Alfred wasn’t prepared for that. You? Move out? You were merely sixteen, a child! You weren’t even the age to earn a livable wage and you wanted to move out? Unbelievable! “What– What did you just say?” Dick stammers, his eyes flickering from Bruce to Alfred as the tension in the room silently grows, weighing on the room like a guillotine, an unspoken threat looming above each of their heads. Dick couldn’t believe what he was hearing. You wanted to move out? His precious baby sibling? The sweet child who would follow him around shyly, who would light up at the smallest hint of affection, the child who couldn’t ride a bike or do their times tables or–.. No, that was years ago, right? Or, at least he thinks so.

To be honest, when Bruce had said your name, he was initially confused. (Name) was unfamiliar to him – but that feeling went away when he pictured the small child hiding behind the corners of the Manor. His precious sibling! So, it doesn’t matter, right? He forgot about you but he remembered you just as quickly. He’s your older brother, he couldn’t have forgotten you. No, not when he’s everyone’s reliable older brother, that’s impossible! Disgraceful! Deplorable!

How old are you now? He wonders bitterly, a heavy, unsettling feeling forcing it’s claws in his throat as he feels a dull ache stretch through his body, his heart pounding through his ears. You? Move out? That’s insane, you can’t move out. He still needs to take you out to that restaurant he promised you (all those years ago), he needs to help with your math homework, he–..

He feels like he might throw up, he takes a tentative step back, ignoring the expression on Damian’s face. He needs to see you, to grab you and demand answers, he can’t believe such a thing to be true. Sure, maybe he hasn’t interacted with you at all, and maybe he can’t picture your face, or your personality in his mind aside from the small, lingering child who would follow him around – but you can’t leave! Not before he takes you out to that restaurant, like he promised. What kind of big brother doesn’t follow up on his promises?

“This is a ploy for attention.” Damian huffs, glowering at the mention of you. So, you’re what’s driven his father away from training with him. Figures. You’re jealous and weak, it’s natural you’d make empty threats to scavenge for attention like the filthy leech you are. Pathetic.

So why? Why was father making such an expression? Why was Dick so pale, as though he’s about to hurl? Even Alfred looks caught off-guard. What’s going on with these buffoons? Can they not see the foolishness in the idea of you moving out?

But, there’s a feeling in the air, masking Alfred’s cooking that tells him you’re serious. You’re planning on moving out. What a stupid notion – he should go to your room and smack you for even suggesting it, that you would survive outside of the Manor, in Gotham no less.

“What will you do, Master Bruce?” Alfred asks after a beat of thoughtful silence, the air in the room crackling with the weight of everyone’s ideals, his eyes narrowed at Bruce’s tightened expression.

“They’re.. too young to live alone.” Bruce’s tone is even, the same voice he uses when going over a mission plan and such, but the message in it is clear. You can’t go, and they all understand it, they understand it well.

Alfred watches the three part ways, each of them with a newfound goal in mind, and he can’t help the relief that washes over him. This is great, he had been worried that they would let you go – that they wouldn’t care to keep you, Alfred would have to do all the work himself then, and he’s much too old for that.

Yes, this is much easier. The cogs of fate are turning, the strings on your limbs tightening with each passing second. You’ve inadvertently set your role in an inescapable performance – maybe next time, go downstairs for dinner – no matter how shaken up you are.

yall i was gonna post this later.. but everyone is so nice omg. i feel so scared to post PLEASEUHH constructive critisicm is appreciated <3 :3 also thank u for being so kind on the prologue :p

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urdreamydoodles · 4 months ago

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DC COMICS CHARACTERS x FEM!READER

DC Comics Characters with a S/O who is shy and has social anxiety

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

Bruce Wayne (Batman)

- Bruce Wayne is a man who understands silence better than most. He does not mistake your quietness for weakness, does not see your hesitation as something to be corrected. He knows what it means to live inside one’s own mind, to wrestle with shadows no one else can see. And so, when you struggle to meet the world’s gaze, he does not push—you need only glance at him, and he understands.

- He shields you from Gotham’s prying eyes without ever making you feel fragile. At galas, where the air is thick with wealth and expectation, his hand remains at the small of your back, a silent promise that you are not alone. If the press grows too bold, if whispers turn sharp, one glance from him is enough to silence them.

- If someone ever mocks you for being reserved, Bruce does not raise his voice. He merely turns, his presence shifting the air itself, and in a voice so calm it is almost cruel, he asks, “Do you truly believe your words matter to me?” They never speak to you again.

- When anxiety claws at your ribs, Bruce does not try to solve it like a detective hunting answers. He does not drown you in reassurances. Instead, he stays beside you, steady as Gotham’s skyline, his presence an anchor when the storm inside you rages.

- At night, when the weight of the world is too much, he lets you curl into his warmth, his heartbeat slow and certain beneath your ear. “You are safe,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your hair. “You are mine.” And for the first time in your life, you believe it.

Kal-El (Clark Kent / Superman)

- Clark Kent loves gently, patiently, with a kindness that feels like sunlight on a winter morning. He never rushes you, never asks you to be more than you are. He simply loves you as you exist, without condition, without hesitation.

- He notices the way your breath quickens in crowded places, the way your hands tremble when too many voices overlap. And so, he stands beside you, tall and unwavering, his presence a shield against the chaos of the world.

- If someone speaks cruelly of your quiet nature, Clark does not glare, does not threaten. He merely tilts his head, a smile so warm it almost burns. “I think she’s perfect the way she is,” he says simply. And somehow, that is more devastating than any punch he could throw.

- When your anxiety spirals, when the world feels like it is closing in, Clark holds you close. “Breathe with me,” he murmurs, his voice like a lullaby. And as he inhales and exhales, slow and steady, you find yourself matching his rhythm.

- At night, wrapped in his arms, the world does not feel so terrifying. “You are my heart,” he whispers, his lips brushing your forehead. “You don’t have to be loud to be strong.” And in his embrace, you believe it.

Barry Allen (The Flash)

- Barry Allen moves faster than the world, but never too fast for you. He sees the way crowds unsettle you, the way words sometimes fail you, and so he slows—just for you, always for you.

- When the world overwhelms you, when voices are too loud, Barry takes your hand and grins. “Come on, let’s get out of here.” And in a blink, you are elsewhere—on a rooftop overlooking the city, in a field where only the wind can hear your thoughts.

- If someone mocks your quiet nature, Barry does not get angry. He simply smirks, vanishes for a moment, and returns with every embarrassing childhood photo of the offender that has ever existed. “Oops,” he grins. “These might just end up all over the internet.”

- When your thoughts spiral, Barry does not try to talk you out of them. He distracts you, making you laugh, filling your world with so much joy that your fear does not stand a chance. “I love you,” he says between kisses, “just the way you are.”

- At night, he holds you close, his heartbeat quick, his fingers tracing patterns against your skin. “No rush,” he murmurs, his voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. “I’ll wait forever for you.” And in that moment, time itself seems to slow.

Diana of Themyscira (Wonder Woman)

- Diana is a warrior, a goddess, a force of nature—and yet, with you, she is the gentlest thing in existence. She sees the way you hesitate before speaking, the way the world feels too big sometimes, and she does not ask you to be louder. She only asks that you let her stand beside you.

- In crowded places, Diana ensures no one speaks over you, no one diminishes your presence. And if they do? Her eyes turn to steel, her voice a blade as she says, “You will not disrespect her.” No one dares challenge her.

- If anxiety grips you, if your hands shake, Diana takes them in her own. “Breathe, my love,” she whispers, her voice like a hymn. “You are stronger than you know.” And somehow, you believe her.

- When the world overwhelms you, she takes you somewhere quiet—a temple, an island, a place where the air itself is soft. “You do not have to fight the world alone,” she tells you. And in her presence, you never do.

- At night, wrapped in her arms, you feel invincible. “You are a wonder,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead. And in that moment, you finally see yourself through her eyes.

Arthur Curry (Aquaman)

- Arthur is the ocean—vast, untamed, and fiercely protective of those he loves. He does not need you to be loud, does not need you to be anything other than who you are. “You’re perfect,” he says gruffly, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

- He notices when the world feels like too much, when your breath quickens, when you shrink into yourself. And so, without a word, he takes you to the sea. The waves crash around you, drowning out the noise, leaving only the two of you. “Better?” he asks, and the answer is always yes.

- If someone ever mocks your shyness, Arthur does not threaten them. He simply raises a brow and says, “Say that again, and you’ll find out how long you can hold your breath underwater.” They never speak to you again.

- When your anxiety consumes you, Arthur does not try to fix it. Instead, he pulls you into his embrace, his strength steady, unwavering. “You don’t have to do this alone,” he murmurs. And with him, you never do.

- At night, as the waves sing their lullaby, Arthur holds you close, his voice low and sure. “You’re safe with me,” he whispers, and in his arms, you finally believe it.

Hal Jordan (Green Lantern)

- Hal Jordan is a man who burns bright, a force of willpower that does not waver. He is reckless, headstrong, loud in every way you are not. And yet, he never makes you feel small. When you hesitate, when words die in your throat, he does not push—he only grins, nudges you playfully, and says, “Take your time, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”

- Crowds do not faze him, but he sees the way they unsettle you. At galas, where the air is thick with arrogance, he throws an arm around your shoulders, his presence a barrier between you and the world. If someone speaks over you, dismisses you, he leans in with a cocky smirk. “You wanna try that again?” They always back down.

- Hal does not pity you. He does not try to change you, does not see your quiet nature as something to fix. Instead, he makes the world easier for you—deflecting attention when you need space, filling silences with easy laughter, standing beside you when your voice shakes.

- When anxiety tightens its grip on you, Hal does not give speeches about courage. He simply takes your hand, presses a kiss to your knuckles, and murmurs, “You’re the bravest person I know.” And somehow, coming from him, you believe it.

- At night, as you curl into his warmth, he strokes your hair absentmindedly. “You don’t have to be loud to be strong,” he whispers. “You already light up my whole damn universe.”

Oliver Queen (Green Arrow)

- Oliver Queen has a voice that can command a room, a presence that demands attention. But with you, he is softer, quieter. He sees the way your fingers twitch when too many eyes are on you, the way your breath quickens when conversations turn sharp. And so, he keeps you close, a steady hand at the small of your back.

- He is fiercely protective, but never suffocating. If someone mocks your shyness, he lets them speak, lets them dig their own grave—before utterly dismantling them with a smirk and a well-placed remark that leaves them stunned and humiliated.

- Oliver is patient. When you struggle to find words, when anxiety makes your voice small, he does not interrupt, does not rush you. Instead, he waits, his gaze steady, as if what you have to say is the most important thing in the world.

- When the weight of your own mind is too much, Oliver pulls you away from the noise. “Come on,” he says, leading you to the rooftop, where the city stretches below like a painting. The wind tugs at your hair, the sky swallows the world whole, and suddenly, breathing is easier.

- At night, when you lie beside him, his fingers tracing lazy circles against your skin, he murmurs, “You don’t have to change for me, sweetheart.” And in his arms, you realize—you never want to.

John Constantine

- John Constantine is a man of shadows, of smoke and sin, but with you, he is something else entirely. He does not mock your quiet nature, does not sneer at your anxiety—he understands it. He knows what it means to battle demons no one else can see.

- If someone dares to speak down to you, to make you feel small, John does not waste words. He simply tilts his head, lights a cigarette, and smirks. “Say that again,” he drawls, voice like gravel. They don’t.

- He does not try to fix you. He does not drown you in reassurances. Instead, he is simply there—a hand on your back when the world is too loud, a sarcastic quip to pull you out of your own head.

- When anxiety suffocates you, when your thoughts turn sharp, John does not ask you to explain. He simply takes your hand, murmurs, “C’mon, love,” and takes you somewhere quiet, somewhere the world cannot touch you.

- At night, as you lie tangled together, the scent of smoke and magic in the air, he kisses your forehead. “You don’t have to be loud to be powerful,” he murmurs. “You’re already the strongest person I know.”

Roy Harper (Arsenal)

- Roy Harper is fire and recklessness, all sharp edges and easy grins. But with you, he is soft. He sees the way you hesitate before speaking, the way crowds unsettle you, and so he fills the silence, keeps the world at bay.

- He notices everything. The way your hands tremble when too many voices overlap, the way your breath quickens in unfamiliar places. And so, he stays close, his presence a quiet promise—you are not alone.

- If someone ever mocks you for being shy, Roy does not hesitate. He steps forward, his usual smirk gone, his voice lower than usual. “Say that again,” he challenges. They never do.

- When your thoughts spiral, when anxiety makes your world small, Roy does not try to talk you out of it. Instead, he takes your hand, kisses your knuckles, and says, “I got you.” And somehow, that is enough.

- At night, tangled in his embrace, his voice is softer than the wind. “You don’t have to be anyone but yourself,” he murmurs. “I love you exactly as you are.”

Koriand’r (Starfire)

- Koriand’r is warmth itself, a sun given form. She does not see your quiet nature as a flaw—she sees it as something beautiful. She marvels at the way you observe the world, the way your eyes say more than words ever could.

- She is fiercely protective. If someone ever speaks cruelly of you, her lips part, and suddenly, she is explaining—in the most diplomatic yet devastating way—why they are entirely incorrect and should reconsider their life choices.

- She does not try to change you. She does not ask you to be louder, does not demand that you match her energy. Instead, she meets you where you are, her love a steady, unwavering thing.

- When anxiety grips you, when your hands shake, she takes them in her own. “You are safe,” she says softly. “You are loved.” And with her, you believe it.

- At night, wrapped in her arms, she presses a kiss to your forehead. “You are a star, my love,” she murmurs. “Even the quietest lights shine the brightest.”

Kara Zor-El (Supergirl)

- Kara Zor-El is sunlight and boundless energy, a force of nature that cannot be contained. She soars through life with a confidence you admire but do not share, yet she never makes you feel lesser for it. She finds beauty in your quiet nature, in the way you observe before speaking, listen before acting.

- Crowds do not unnerve her, but she sees how they weigh on you. So she stays close, her presence a shield, her voice filling the silences you cannot. If someone tries to talk over you, she steps forward, her bright blue gaze unwavering. “They weren’t finished speaking.” The world listens to Supergirl.

- Kara has a way of making you feel safe. Whether it’s wrapping you in an unbreakable embrace after a long day or placing a hand on your back when anxiety grips you too tight, she reminds you that you are never alone.

- When your thoughts spiral, she does not push. She simply takes you flying, carrying you high above the earth, where the air is clear and nothing matters but the way she holds you close, whispering, “Breathe, love. Just breathe.”

- At night, as you lie in her arms, she presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You don’t have to be loud to be strong,” she murmurs. “You already hold my whole heart in your hands.”

Slade Wilson (Deathstroke)

- Slade Wilson is a storm contained in a man, all precision and ruthlessness, a blade honed to perfection. He is not gentle, not with the world—but with you, he is something close to it. Your quiet nature does not confuse him; he sees it for what it is—a mind sharper than most, a heart too big for the weight it carries.

- He is not a man of comfort, but he learns for you. When your hands tremble, he stills them with his own. When your voice shakes, he listens. He does not fill silences unnecessarily, but he makes sure you always know he is there.

- If someone mocks you for being shy, Slade does not waste words. He simply turns, fixes them with a stare as sharp as a knife’s edge, and says, “Do you have something useful to say, or are you just wasting my time?” The fear in their eyes is answer enough.

- He does not coddle you, but he protects you fiercely. He teaches you how to steady your breathing, how to hold your ground when the world presses too close. “You don’t have to be like me,” he tells you, voice low. “But I will make sure no one ever makes you feel small.”

- At night, when the world is quiet, he pulls you close, his lips ghosting against your temple. “You’re stronger than you think,” he murmurs, “and I don’t need you to change. I like you exactly as you are.”

Kent Nelson (Doctor Fate)

- Kent Nelson is wisdom incarnate, a man who has seen beyond time itself. He carries the weight of eternity, yet somehow, he still finds wonder in you. He marvels at the way you move through the world, at the quiet strength you do not realize you possess.

- Your anxiety does not unsettle him—he understands the weight of a mind that never quiets. When the noise of the world becomes too much, he takes your hand, leading you into the sanctuary of his magic, where the air hums with ancient power and silence is a comfort, not a void.

- If someone dismisses you, speaking over your soft voice, Kent does not need anger to command attention. He simply tilts his head, the air shifting around him, and says, “You will listen.” The room stills. No one interrupts you again.

- He teaches you how to anchor yourself, how to breathe through the storm in your mind. “There is power in stillness,” he tells you, guiding your hand over an old tome, letting you feel the hum of magic that does not need to be spoken aloud to be real.

- At night, when the weight of the universe is momentarily lifted from his shoulders, he cradles you close. “The quietest souls are often the strongest,” he murmurs against your skin. “You do not have to be loud to leave an impact.”

Rachel Roth (Raven)

- Rachel Roth is a paradox—darkness and light, fire and ice, distant yet deeply feeling. She does not flinch at your social anxiety, does not misunderstand your silences. She simply accepts them. With her, you do not need to explain yourself.

- She knows what it is to be overwhelmed, to have emotions too large for one body. And so, when anxiety grips you tight, she takes your hand, grounding you with a simple, whispered “I’m here.”

- If someone speaks unkindly of you, Rachel does not raise her voice. She does not need to. The shadows around her shift, the air thickens, and suddenly, the offender stumbles over their words, swallowing their own cruelty.

- She never asks you to be anything but yourself. If words fail you, she does not demand them. She understands the language of glances, of fingertips grazing against fabric, of the way your breath catches when the world feels too much.

- At night, as you curl against her, she murmurs against your skin, “You don’t have to change for me.” And in the hush between words, you realize—you never want to.

Zatanna Zatara

- Zatanna Zatara is effortless charisma, a woman born from magic itself. She commands attention wherever she goes, yet she never expects you to do the same. She sees the beauty in your quiet nature, the depth in your silences.

- She does not push you into the spotlight, but she always makes sure you know you belong. If a room is too loud, too overwhelming, she leans close, murmuring soft reassurances in a language older than time, words that hum with warmth and comfort.

- If someone mocks your shyness, she does not lash out. Instead, she smiles sweetly, tilts her head, and mutters a single backward spell that ensures they trip over their own feet every time they try to speak.

- She teaches you that magic is not always about grandeur. Sometimes, it is in the smallest things—in the way she always seems to know when you need space, in the way her fingers brush yours before lacing them together, in the way her voice steadies yours when you feel like disappearing.

- At night, as the world fades into quiet, she presses a kiss to your forehead, her voice soft as a spell. “You don’t need magic to be special,” she whispers. “You already enchant me just as you are.”

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apppletea · 3 months ago

Text

i read a lot of fanfics with platonic yan batfamily x neglect!reader butt, i just got a idea, a reader who loves GUNS, every type of guns, even the smallest ones, even shotguns and etc.

inspo Nancy wheeler and Caitlyn Kiramman bc i love women ><

You, the forgotten and least loved daughter, or so you suppose.

You never received love or affection, maybe from Alfred but that man was too busy with family movie nights to think about you and your feelings but you didn't mind, your mother had told you about this, They all only cared about their own world, their own family, and clearly you don't belong there.

That was fine, you learned to vent your sadness, your anger in the pistol practices you had, every day you improved more and more, obviously you didn't say anything to anyone because really you no longer cared about the approval of your father, or your brothers, or anyone else. Your mother taught you to be strong and always stand up for yourself, and that's what you did.

Years passed and you dedicated yourself to training to be an officer, but an officer in the armed forces, the FBI or simply some organization. Your knowledge of weapons helped you reach higher levels, and perhaps clearly your last name, both last names, from your mother and Bruce.

From one day to the next you were the child prodigy, a prodigy in weapons and basic boxing.

You finally turned 18 and without hesitation you left to return to the old mansion where you lived with your mother. Once you moved from that place, you continued with your classes and training until you finally arrived, received your commission as an officer and soon joined an organization, And curiously, they supported every move made by Batman and the vigilantes, how absurd they were.

You didn't pay attention to either of them, no one had noticed their absence and it was better you wouldn't have to deal with them in your life but obviously fate doesn't seem to be on our side.

One of the many days that Batman was fighting crime, he had put himself in a very difficult situation and unexpectedly you appeared, with your aim and eagle eye you simply shot until finally the criminal fell. You knew who Batman was, you knew who the former and current Robins were, you knew everything about that family because once upon a time, you belonged to that mansion far from everything.

How cliché.

At the end of it all, Batman or Bruce had been impressed to see you in an officer's uniform and how big you looked, you were no longer the little girl who had arrived and was too shy even to speak to him, who was your father. You knew everything, but he thought you didn't, that you were still an innocent woman unaware of the secret identities.

‘u okay?’ You broke the silence as you looked around carefully. ‘You should be more careful, Batman.’

‘—ugh... yeah, thanks.’

You nodded and focused on putting the safety on the gun to help get the old man up.

Bruce really didn't know how to act, what tone of voice to use or how to treat her, after all she was his daughter, the little girl who ignored her entire childhood to find her again in her adulthood and— wait.

You left the mansion? When?

The sudden reality check had left him stunned, you just looked at him trying to decipher what was on his mind, you sighed tiredly and started to walk away, leaving the alley. ‘Well, have a good night. I have to keep working.’

Did the others know? Did they know you'd left the nest so long ago? And— since when did you know how to use guns?

#yandere batfamily #yandere batfamily x reader #yandere batfamily x neglect reader #yandere batfam #yandere batman #dc fanfiction #yandere platonic #yandere #yandere bruce wayne #caitlyn!reader #arcane #nancy!reader #stranger things

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somnoir · 6 months ago

Note

first time giving a prompt

deaged!Danny (may include Dani, Dan and/or Jazz too if you like) given to Themyscira to be raised by Kronos (Clockwork). They were given a vague reason (they either might end the world or save it. kinda like the PJO Great Prophecy "to preserve or raze")

cause a boy/s is/are involved. They get sent to be raised by Diana instead

i just really want mom!Diana to happen

god I love mom!Diana so much! I need this woman to just pop up to the watchtower with her own baby and tell the others to fuck off cause, BATMAN HAS HIS BABIES I HAVE MINE!

Percy Jackson themes? Let's go!

Children of Diana - part 1

Kronos was always a mysterious and frightening figure in their stories. The father that devoured their children upon a prophecy of a throne to be taken by his child. Five had fallen into his stomach, Hestia of the hearth fell first, whilst Hades was the last to be eaten. Only by Rhea's cunning did their youngest, Zeus, survive his father's hunger and grow to be king.

But Kronos never truly stayed dead.

He was time embodied, moving with every universe, even as he melted away from their world and into another.

Hippolyta told her stories of Kronos, along with how she wished for a child and how her love for one allowed her to make Diana out of clay and give her blessing of goddesses to be a mother to a blessed daughter. Diana heard stories from her mother of everlasting Kronos who's name shifted with worlds, with his domain of time. How the titan has moved past from his children and embedded himself into the stars.

Diana heard of his stories but never in her lifetime did she expect to be met with that same Titan.

Her first instinct was to bow, to greet this almighty titan with the proper etiquette. But Kronos only smiled at her, snapping his fingers.

One moment Diana was Louvre, then next she was beside her mother in Themyscira.

"Diana!" Hippolyta blinked, bewildered to see her daughter before the atmosphere turned tense, cold.

Once again, the Amazons were graces—perhaps even cursed—with the Master of Time's presence.

"Kronos." Hippolyta sucked in a deep breath, her stance going rigid as she prepared to greet and attack their guest. "My lord..."

"Progeny of mine," Kronos wore a purple rone that shadowed his face, with a body that floated from the ground. In his hand was a peculiar staff with a glowing blue clock. "I have no trust in my children but... You Amazons are more sensible and responsible than my brats."

"Except for Hestia. I would trust her but she is too close to them for my liking." He drawled, startling Diana.

Hestia was the eldest of the traitors, the first to be eaten. She was still referred to as a traitor and yet there is evident fondness in Kronos' voice.

"Nevermind that." Kronos waved it off, "Pandora has claimed that you are trustworthy—" THE FIRST WOMAN PANDORA?! "So I shall trust you with this prophecy. Especially, Diana... Wonder Woman. You will prove essential to the fulfillment of this prophecy."

Diana's body stiffened, unable to help but grab her mother's hand. Blessed as she was, Hippolyta squeezed her daughter's hand, comforting and reassuring before they nodded and waited for the prophecy...

Kronos was smiling.

"From the death of youth, a monarch shall rise,

To fall, and rise again with time's reprise.

Brother and sister by the throne will stand,

Balance to bring, or doom to command.

Should the path be dark, the stars will weep,

For the universe's fate, the king shall keep."

Diana's breath hitched. The prophecy was... It was scary. She couldn't fathom it. From the lines alone, there was a possibility of the universe's doom... But it involves a king of sorts.

What did that entail?

Kronos was laughing now. "Be wary, Diana of Themyscira... The High King of the infinite realms and his siblings will arrive soon..."

"The infinite realms?!" Hippolyta almost looked faint.

"Yes. The king, his royal siblings the prince and princess have entered a new cycle. Their oldest royal sister is currently regent and unable to raise them in the realms."

Diana cleared her throat, "My apologies, but why is the regent unable to raise her siblings?"

"Regent Queen Jasmine Phantom died long ago. She is a full ghost whilst her siblings are epitomes of balance, both living and dead. As they are still very much alive, being in the realms for too long during their years of development is unhealthy for their constitutions." He explained, glancing at his staff.

"It is time."

Again, Diana was startled and almost lunged forward for more answers before her mother squeezed her hand again. Her breath caught, glancing back at her mother who sent her a warning glare.

"I wish you the best of luck, Diana." Kronos smiled, almost softly, "You will do well to raise my children. I am in your debt."

All at once, Diana was suddenly the mother of three and someone the Master of Time owed a debt too.

Diana had not expected to find three children in her home. Yes, she expected to find three individuals, but she had at least expected infants. Not three children who's ages varied.

"Hello..." The middle of the three said, blue eyes, black hair, scrawny and small.

"Hello." She softly said, looking around her apartment before crouching in front of the children with the softest smile she could ever give. "I am Diana. Could you give me your names, little ones?"

"Dante." The eldest of the three, with blue eyes that flashed red, grunted.

"Daniel but I go by Danny." The middle smiled, then gestures to the toddler that clung to Dante. "This one is Danielle but she likes to be called Ellie."

The girl waved at her, rosy cheeks with blue eyes pile her brothers.

"Clockwork said we had to come to you because our sister couldn't keep us in the realms. We're sorry for the trouble." Danny grimaces, genuinely apologetic and clasping his hands together.

"I told that bastard that we didn't need to be deaged or anything. But no! He kept saying that we needed a vacation or whatever." Dante scoffed, rolling his eyes before adjusting little Elle in his arms.

Diana saw the discomfort on the eldest's expression as he tried to adjust his little sister in his arms. She offered her service to him, gesturing for Dante to give the toddler to her, bur she received a growl and a glare from crimson eyes.

One of the boys was the king of the infinite realms turned into a child. The prophecy had clearly stated that the king would be joined by his sister and brother, so the possibility of little Ellie being the king was void. So it was between the boys then.

"Don't be mean, Dan! Miss Diana is already trying her best right now. I'll tell Clockwork and Aunt Pandora that you're being mean to their favorite." Danny snapped, swatting his brother's shoulders.

"It is alright, your majesties."

"Oh!" Danny flushed red, "No need for that. You don't have to!" He insisted, "I'm not king at the moment since Jasmine demanded we were given a break... I just didn't think that a break meant going through a new human cycle."

Diana's eyes softened, so Daniel was king. "I see... I do not mind being your caretaker, little ones. I have friends who have children, and I have found myself rather envious of them. Truthfully, I never expected to beae children myself but... My mother lost the ability to have one herself, and yet she made me from clay."

Dante nodded, "We've heard of your story. It's quite beautiful how your mother loved you so much, even when you were nothing but a dream... But she managed to make you reality with that love. It's quite inspiring."

Danny soon explained, "Our mortal mother died many years ago. She and our father were ghosts, citizens of the infinite realms before my siblings and I encouraged them to follow through with reincarnation. We would have had our eldest sister do the same, but she is more stubborn than our parents." The fond smile on his lips was one tinged by melancholy and longing.

Diana realized that these children were ripped away from what they called home, forced by their own sister for their sakes. Immortal monarchs were thought to be all powerful, undying and never needing rest.

Diana herself saw it as such, with how Zeus refused to relinquish his throne, of how his siblings and children attempted to usurp him the same way he did with Kronos.

But the royals of the infinite realms seemed to be of a different breed. The dead who were once mortal, living, before time caught up to them and their existences were given to the realms. That humanity seemed to be what made the Ghostly royals to be so... Extraordinary. Because it was clear to Diana that the regent Jasmine loved her kingly brother and royal siblings with all her heart. Especially when she was willing to sit upon the throne, carry the burden of monarch, for a life time. All because she wanted them to be given a chance at happiness.

Diana has heard stories of the realms, of how the previous king, a tyran named Pariah Dark, was defeated. Phantom became king through conquest and it was rumoured he had still been a child, still alive and only half dead, when he was given the crown.

"Well then..." She cleared her throat, smiling softly. "I hope that you will be able to live comfortably with me, little ones. I will not force you to see me as a mother, but I will do everything I can to be a proper caretaker. I will love and cherish you the same way my mother and sister did."

That statement alone seemed to have affected the three, enough that Dante relaxed.

The second time Diana tried to take Ellie from his arms, Dante sis not resist. He carefully tucked his sister into her arms, showing her how she liked to be held.

Ellie giggled, reach up to her and nuzzling her cheek against Diana's chest.

"Adorable." She whispered, kissing the little girl's forehead before turning back to her brothers. "May I know how old you currently are?"

"Physically or chronologically?"

Diana chuckled, "Physically."

"I'm ten. Danny's eight and Ellie's two." Dante explained, pointing to them each whenever he spoke. "But chronologically, we're around... Actually, I don't know. Time in the realms and time here is different. It's also different from our earth. So..."

"Ah, no need to explain if it's too confusing. I understand that time flows differently for everyone. Let us just say that you've existed for a few centuries, yes? Keep it vague for everyone else." Diana grinned, already thinking of how Batman would be utterly perplexed by that.

"Well then, let us get you settled in, yes? Unfortunately, I only have one guest room." Diana frowned, cooing at little Elle that tried to wiggle our of her grasp, "I was planning on moving soon since this part of Paris is a little too loud for me."

A little white lie. She'd have to ask Bruce for help of finding a new space in a short time.

The three looked suspicious, skeptical, and already feeling guilty. Diana was quick to act, ushering them to their rooms, asking them if they've eaten and what they'd like for dinner if not.

Aside from a new place, she needed to acquire herself some parenting books. Yes. Lots and lots of parenting books, especially if her children were eldritch beings.

Maybe Bruce had more experience in that field.

No, Diana, do not think like that. You're a mother now.

Especially when she was the mother of three while Bruce was only parenting one child. Though said child was now a rather rebellious fifteen year old.

Masterpost

#Children of Diana #I like WW's clay origin more than her being a daughter of Zeus #it shows that Hippolyta loved her so damn much that she made a child out of clay and was gifted life by the gods #in my au this lady is between 200 or 300 years old #that's reasonable in my head :)#Jazz saw her siblings slowly breaking down from being king; the time police; and ambassador of the realms #dan is time police and hates speedsters now cause theyre the ones he's trying to arrest #its part of his community service #ellie is ambassador because she gets to travel everywhere and make diplomatic relations for rhe realms #Diana achieved the status of mother #shes gonna be the best mom to her new ghost babies #The Phantom trio really miss Jazz but their new super mom is the cool lady that Pandora and CW are really proud of #Diana has had her babies for less than a day but if anything happens to them she'll kill everyone then herself #DICK IS STILL ROBIN AND FIFTEN!#So the rest of the batkids haven't been adopted yet #so #technically... Diana has the most kids #mother is motherinf by having the most kids first :D #tbh struggled writing their names a bit cause there were too many Ds #dpxdc #dc x dp #danny phantom #danny fenton

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yandere-wishes · 5 months ago

Note

Currently obsessed with the Damian x stray writing and had a very angsty thought about it (not a request, not meaning any pressure just wanted to share)

Stray feels suffocated by his attention. Maybe one day she might want him back but it’s all too much. She fakes her death (as her vigilante persona) and Damian morns and rages and turns cold, all of that delicious stuff.

Only one day the Catfam/Selina end up in hot water and she has to come back. He freaks the hell out.

oooohhhh I really love this, there's something so progressively dark about it. About Making Damian suffer so deliciously until he finally snaps.

Damian's love for Stray/Catgirl is complicated or rather it's easy but Damian likes to make it complicated by tying it to fate and legacy. He practically sees reader as his destiny as an omen and a good luck charm, heavenly insurance of sorts.

But should his darling, his comfort be stripped from him.

Well, destiny will still play out, but it won't be as kind.

Damian's life, his legacy, will be marred in ebony and rage.

⋆🐾°⋆🐾°⋆🐾°⋆🐾°⋆🐾°⋆🐾°⋆🐾°⋆🐾°⋆🐾°⋆🐾°⋆🐾°⋆🐾°⋆🐾°⋆

The hands wrapped around your shoulders are suffocating. Same for the fingers currently squeezing your cheek, you angle your mouth right, trying to bite and gnaw at his flesh and bones. Damian just laughs, he still thinks the two of you are playing.

He always thinks you're playing. What can you expect from the little assassin boy whose first toy was a knife, who swung swords instead of playing catch. He loves the way your claws scratch at him, the tiny scars they leave. He likes to wrestle you along the harsh pavement, enjoys the punches he throws and receives. It's all just a game to him.

But you, you can't take it anymore, the sky itself is closing in. You can't breathe in his presence can't think when his arms are coiled like vines around your body.

The world is growing dark as his lips ghost across your lips...

Your mother notices your depression. The dark gloom that follows you across the rooms. The sharp snaps at your sisters, the endless screaming when someone gets too close.

She's already lost one daughter, she refuses to lose another.

Selina holds your funeral, pays for the coffin, and signs the invites.

She plays the role of grieving mother like an actress on the silver screen.

But despite the desperation in her action, her throat still hitches with fear when she sees the rage in the youngest Wayne's eyes.

She can't help but feel like she's doomed the world with her selfish little stunt.

In Star City you can breathe, see the sun as you walk across the dewy grass. There is hope here, sprinkled through the air.

You mind not the heroes that swing by. You even laugh at the stray arrows and masked family arguing on the rooftops.

In Star City, you can finally breathe...

Until the Gotham gloom creeps in once more.

He prowls the streets, cowl crown wrapped tightly around his head. Here he is vengeance he is law, Gotham bows at his feet.

He doesn't notice the family heirlooms shattered across the city streets,

The morals and legacy rotting away under the moon's mournful gaze.

Damian Wayne

Batman

The protector of Gotham.

And also it's jailer.

He doesn't have his father's mercy.

Doesn't carry his borthers' oaths.

He kills the monster that lurks between the shadows.

That fester in the darkness.

No crime goes unpunished.

There is no mercy for the wicked, no hope for rehabilitation.

There are only graves now.

His father would be disappointed...

Damian stalks towards the zoo,

He knows he's going to enjoy tonight's trifle.

Catwoman picks the lock on the new exhibit. She recoiled in disgust as her eyes scan the plaque by the cage.

*Lion cubs saved from the wild brought for restoration*

Lies she thinks bitterly. These little cubs were stolen, brought here from their homes across the sea. Imprisoned for the crule's amusement and the rich's greed. She sends her own kittens to rescue the lion cubs. But just as they go to make their escape. A dark figure descends from the sky, tearing through them and binding them.

Selina fights, but she's come to learn she is no match for the new bat. The vampire out for blood. He drags them back to the manor, once such a lively place now reeks of sorrow and mourning.

"This has nothing to do with crime and you know it! You know who's really guilty here. You just want an excuse to get rid of us. You still blame us, blame me for her death." Selina screams as the bat throws them into a dark chamber.

Damian says nothing he just locks the door and leaves.

After all the blood of the greatest detective still courses through his veins.

Your old suit feels too tight, cutting off your circulation. Still you jump from rooftop to rooftop vying for Wayne manner. You got the picture of your family tied up and starved, a few days ago. You hate how long it took you to gather the courage to return.

You shutter thinking of the image. Of the windowless cement room.

Your family may be infamous for breaking free.

But even a cat can't escape a cinderblock.

You crawl through the shadows. Sticking to the walls of the manner, the maze is endless, unrelenting. It refuses to be breached. The lights come on one by one as if catching a rat in a trap. You recoil at the blinding light when finally your eyes open once more you see Damian descending the stairs face painted in soft surprise, body covered in his father's suit.

"I knew you couldn't be dead." he's grown, face molded into a softer Bruce. But his rage still flickers relentlessly in his emerald eyes. Of couse he's finally cracked the case.

"Let them go" you beg tears cascading from your eyes "Please!".

"I see the civilian life has made you soft kitty. Not a difficult matter to resolve, I'm sure." You shake your head, stepping back trying to run away.

But the years have made him even stronger and Damian catches you before you can flee him again. His arms wrap around your waist, face buried in the crook of your neck, intoxicated by your scent.

He can't believe he's holding you once more. Your body is so solid within his grasp. He missed your sweet voice and even sweeter whimpers. He missed the erratic thump of your heart whenever he was near.

He'll never let you go, ever again.

Damian vows it on his father's grave.

He kisses your neck, your cheeks.

Finally reclaiming your lips.

You can't breathe...

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timmydraker · 6 months ago

Text

Tim who has never been good at understanding the words of Shakespeare and Dickens.

He can understand metaphors and knows about philosophy, but he’s always struggle to truely grasp the tragedy and helplessness so may of them hold. The idea of someone being doomed from the start, by the author and the narrative or maybe just the world they were set in, just doesn’t really make sense to him.

Part of him knows it’s because he was born with a vintage silver spoon placed delicately in his hands, but there’s more to it than that.

See, most of the bad things that have happened to Tim have either been consequences of his own action or the fact that his friends and colleagues all have the same dangerous job.

To him it just makes sense that bad things will happen and so he can just… prepare for it. He can do what he can to fix it or move onto something else and push away his own feelings because what else is he supposed to do?

So, no, things like Hamlet and Dorian don’t really click for him

At least… until he thinks about Jason.

Born in poverty with a world surrounding him that would not bother to care or offer help to him purely because of how he looks of his parents.

A mother who loves him endlessly, only to fall into the drugs she tried to protect him from.

Finding out that mother didn’t even give birth to him, but the father that never showed anything other than distain and cruelty was still his own.

Being given Robin, hated by the first one for a time, only to die in the suit by the hands of a mad man all because his real mother sold him out.

Waking up in a coffin, digging himself out and roaming around catatonic and the only thoughts he can actually process is that he must be a ghost.

Being taken by a league of killers, lied to and trick and tormented into thing a perfect weapon.

Realise his mentor, who he once thought the father he deserved to have, has failed him and let his killer free because of something as fickle as a moral compass.

Seeing that mentor seemingly replace him with a perfect rich kid who doesn’t swear or complain or sneak off without permission from what he can tell.

Having no real friends in that time.

Having no one to trust because everyone had an ulterior motive. Everyone uses him.

And through out it all, even with all the hate and the bitterness and injustice he had been faced with, his first course of action is to make the home he first had and the only one he will ever have… safer.

To protect the kids like him from becoming statistics and killers, from the pain he felt and the false promises of the Batman.

Jason keeps honesty and integrity, even when no one else offers it to him in return.

Tim can’t understand Macbeth or Antigone or Othello, can’t see why someone would write something so morbid just to try and entertain.

But he can understand, or at least try to understand, Jason Todd.

Because that is someone who had actually been hurt for no reason. Someone who had been tormented by the universe, by fates and coincidence, with no real lesson being taught other than the world hates him.

Sure Jason has Roy and Biz and Artemis and Kori, but what about a brother?

Dick tried, he still does, but he fails Jason over and over by trying to make him ‘better’.

Damian doesn’t really care too much, not out of malice but there’s just not much of a connection between them.

Cass tries, but Jason is always awkward around her and that’s not his fault, you can’t hide a thing from her.

Duke liked Jason a lot, but again, the newest Bat is trying hard to find his place in the world of vigilantes and can’t quite find it in himself to be too close to Jason’s violence.

But Tim…

He’s morals have always been held together by the simple fact of ‘it’s not really that approved of’ and not much else. He won’t kill, but unlike the others he is happy to leave a Rouge in a sinking ship and not feel a hint of guilt.

He adores Jason’s Robin, he knows to some extent how much he lost with that, and now he knows that Jason might not need much more than a few good things.

Small things, nothing that will trick him into thinking the world is apologising because it won’t, but enough to show him that Tim thinks he’s still worth something.

Tim won’t try convince him to become a better person or to stop killing, he might ask him to be a bit more rational and probably won’t be able to stop himself from giving tips on how to run his business, but he wouldn’t ask for his violent brother to change.

Because unlike everyone else, Tim knows that violence exist for good reason.

If it keeps his Jason alive, Tim will gladly hold onto his blood soaked hand.

#batfam #bat family #dc comics #tim drake #batfamily #dc universe #dc #tim drake is red robin #tim drake is a menace #jason todd is a good brother #jason todd is red hood #jason todd #red hood #tim and jason #jason and tim #philosophical

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r3ynah · 1 year ago

Text

Danny is mothering

Mothering two kids was not easy Danny said based from experience, especially if one is a super-villain, and one is a hero. maybe this was fate coming to stab him in the back for becoming a vigilante, Oh well he'll just support and love them, afterall that was his only goal for his children.

he didn't care if Dan hurt people, as long as he's not killing them, he was glad and delighted if ever Dan asks his help, for his plans or weapon making, Dan always had his big pride so it rarely comes when he came asking for help on something.

he didn't care if Dani used/borrowed his powers all she likes, afterall she needs her support, no one can become a great hero without help from others and Dani was a stubborn one, that's for sure.

In short Danny liked bonding with his kids.

He only ever puts his foot down whenever Dan and Dani fights, he was not happy with this afterall, he didn't want his babies to fight and destroy everything in their paths.

They mostly fight privately but this fight was somewhat serious that they both needed to throw hands right here right now. in the middle of Metropolis for all the city's they can fight at.

Danny watched his kids strangle and punch eachother while also crashing into buildings damn that's going to be expensive, sighing in disappointment, he floated down towards them and when he was close enough grabbed their shoulders then pushed them apart, making them stumble and pause in the air.

"No. no fighting" was all Danny said before going invisible, patted his children's heads and teleported away, leaving a now crying Dani who was clinging and apologizing to Dan, who had no choice and awkwardly patted his older sister's back, while also apologizing.

No batman, you didn't need to shoot them with kryptonite, their not even kryptonians, put that away. and comfort superman who's hyperventilating in the corner.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #danny is nonbinary #dc x dp crossover #dp x dc fanfic #dp x dc prompt #dpdc #metropolis #superman #hero dani #villain dan #batman

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moonwatcher2005 · 2 months ago

Text

Did I save you or did you save me?

Chapter 1.5

Neglected Batsis reader x Black butler

Ring

Suddenly, the sound of a phone ringing halts all movement, and the cats could feel a shift in the air. It was heavy, almost suffocating. Y/N stood up and wordlessly walked over to the phone.

For a while, she stared at it, and the cats stared at her, curious as to what this incoming call could entail.

Y/N accepts the call.

“Ahhh, finally picked up, did you, little bat?”

Y/N scoffed. “ Well, if it isn't the Joker. What do you want?”

“Ohhh, nothing much... just a little birdy told me that a certain someone seems to have picked up a litter of kittens.” Y/N's eyes wander to the cats, who have stopped eating in favour of observing her.

“And? what if I did?” she asks. Y/N walks over to the couch, sits down and grabs the remote, turns on the TV, and lo and behold, a dramatic scene plays before her. The Joker, driving recklessly while getting chased by Batman.

“Ohhh, no need to be so guarded, little bat! I was just surprised that you turned so soon into a crazy cat lady! HAHAHA. Well, I suppose you've always had a certain liking for felines. AH! I can hear the news playing in the background! Are you watching me?!” He asked happily.

Now the cats were even more curious, not only because of this joker but also about the TV. Curiously, they watched the news as the reporter narrated the scenes on the screen.

“Or perhaps you're watching Daddy Dearest?” Joker chuckles, and Y/N grip on the phone tightens before they relax. Her eyes soften as she zeros in on the screen of the Television, focusing intensely on the car that Joker is in.

“You know...” Y/N sighted. The cats watched her closely. Something in her demeanor changed completely, her body relaxed, she made herself comfortable on the couch, and continued to stare at the screen.

“You were always... so, so arrogant. You've always been able to get away with your crimes, haven't you? And only because Batman is a coward," she spits his name out with venom.

“He isn't Gotham's protector. He has hardly done anything to help this city, even though he has all the resources to stop it. To stop you, but he doesn't.”

Joker still chuckles lightly,y “And I'm already well aware of your... Distaste of Batman-”

“He's still chasing you. Playing a game of cat and mouse, but... I don't play. Joker”

The phone is silent.

“What did you do, little bat?”

This time, Y/N chuckles.

“What did I do? Oh, nothing much, but all I can say is that you will finally receive your punishment . . . Initially, I wanted to be part of the magnificent show . . . but . . . you alone will have to do . . .”

And before Joker could even respond, the screen of the TV lit up.

An explosion.

“That's right... after all, I should have been there too, you and I should be burning in the depths of hell. Together.”

For the cats the picture finnaly came together, the street, in which the explosion occurred was also the very same street they had been found on.

The reporter went crazy, the city had seemingly gone quiet with the explosion. A new era for Gotham has started. One with less violence, and this time, the praise could not be collected by Batman and his sidekicks. This... was someone else's masterpiece.

One thing had been made clear for the cats. Y/N wasn't normal after all.

Y/N planned to die in that explosion along with the Joker

Perhaps... it was fate. That I met you.

@texas-fox

@galaxypurplerose

@twismare

@ryuushou

#black butler #black butler x reader #neglected reader #yandere batfam x reader #batfamily

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jscrawls · 6 months ago

Text

Widows rest

My take on a Black widow! Reader x Batman and Batfam but with a slight twist, reader doesn't know the bats but they seem to know them...

Warning: contains avengers infinity war spoilers, black widow spoilers, slight mentions of death, poor writing, I've got fem reader in mind but I'll try not to gender them

Prologue: the tangled web we weave

There are a lot of things we don't know in life, who we'll love, who we'll hurt, what the next day will be like, how we'll die. Standing on vormir, you know the answer to the last one.

You've been prepared for it since you were a child, knowing that one day you'd die for someone else's gain like most black widows do, you'd watched your sister's go for decades, buried and forgotten quickly by your handler's who only complained about the cost of training more, Replacing them like broken cogs in a larger machine. as you watch Natalia and Barton fight, you're struck by the realization that you're at peace with who you're going out for, saving the world, the avengers, the few friends made along the way, doesn't quite matter as much at the moment as saving your sister.

Natalia pins Barton, you run. Of course she chases after you, they both do, but you had a running start on the two of them over the rocky terrain of the alien planet, boots thudding loudly behind you as she screams your name desperately, you want her to live but she wants it to be you, suppose it's your fate that you've always been just a bit faster than her.

You pause for a second at the edge of the cliff, not out of trepidation but assessment, it's a second too long as Natalia slams into you and tries to pull you backwards away from the edge, you grapple and fight, tearing at each other like desperate animals before you pull a knife and stab it onto the weak part of her vest, not into her flesh but to pin her to the ground for just a second, whispering an apology before you roll.

“I'm sorry nat, it'll be okay.”

Her scream rings in your ears just as the wind rushes through, you feel strangely at ease as you hit the rocky terrain below…

🔹🔹🔹

there was nothing, Or maybe there was something, there was no sense of time or feeling or thought. all you knew was you weren't alive anymore, and you were content with that, it was for your sister in arms, your found people, the whole world. You could almost pretend you were some noble soul with a big heart.

So why do you feel a hand? Disjointed voices, the occasional touch, warmth squeezing around your fingers. Is it Natalia? Did you fail somehow? Someone whispers to you, a male. you can't make out what the man's saying, you just feel the gentle tones washing over you, If this is an afterlife it's a strange one, though…. You suppose there's worse ways you could spend your death after the decades you worked intelligence, ruining lives for your nation. This just feels so strange...

🔹🔹🔹

M.list | next

A/n, I've never written anything before so constructive criticism is welcome 🤗

#batman x reader #dc x reader #dc x y/n #batfamily x reader #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #batman fanfiction #black widow reader

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cheriecelestial · 4 months ago

Note

IM CURRENTLY READING ANGEL AND OMGGG IM SO OBSSESSED WITH UR WRITING IT IS AMAZING!!! <333

I saw your requests are open and was wondering if you could do a oneshot of AK!Jason Todd (Arkham Knight) x reader, maybe like if reader tried escaping or running to Batman for protection and you knowww he'd be so pissed off maybe Jason saying smth like "BATMAN?! He can't protect you! He never protected me and left me for dead! Only I can protect you! Don't you understand?!" Also with some Yandere themes I just feel like there is sooo much potential with that version of JT because he's so crazy and unhinged and hot!!

Only me

pairing *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Yandere!AK x fem!reader

disclaimer *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ angst. dubcon. noncon kissing. implied noncon. captivity. SA. mindbreak. canon typical violence. yandere themes. darker themes. minor character death. jason is a meanie.

a/n *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ I wasn’t sure if I wanted to make this a smut or not and ultimately decided not to. But anon thank you for the request. I had so much fun writing it and I hope you like it. And like always Comment, Reblog and Like (☆≧▽^)

Day after day, night after night, Y/N sat in the dimly lit bedroom, the cold, unyielding chain around her ankle a constant reminder of her captivity. The metal links clinked softly as she tugged at them, over and over, her hands raw and her spirit weary but unbroken. She had been patient, calculating, biding her time as she worked the chain against the bedpost, each pull weakening the metal until, finally, one link gave way. It was a small victory, but it was enough. Freedom was no longer an abstract dream—it was a plan, and she was ready to see it through.

Every afternoon, like clockwork, the maid arrived at exactly 2 p.m. and left at 5 p.m. sharp. Y/N had observed her routine for weeks, memorizing every detail. The woman was quiet, efficient, and—most importantly—unsuspecting. She was Y/N's only lifeline to the outside world, her only chance at escape. A pang of guilt flickered in Y/N's chest at the thought of what she was about to do, but it was quickly smothered by the memory of everything she had endured.

The Arkham Knight—Jason Todd—had taken everything from her. After slaughtering every man who had worked for her father, Black Mask, Jason had decided that she, Black Mask's daughter, would be his ultimate prize. His spoils of war. His perfect accessory. His toy. His pet. To Y/N, it was a fate worse than death. She had become his refuge, the place he returned to every night, forcing her to bear the weight of his emotions in whatever way he chose to express them. She hated it—hated his touch, hated the way his eyes shifted from longing to unbridled rage in an instant, hated him. All of him.

But now, she had a plan. And she wasn't going to let anything—or anyone—stop her.

As the clock struck 2 p.m., the door creaked open, and the maid stepped inside, her presence as quiet and unassuming as always. Y/N took a deep breath, steadying herself.

“Can you get me a glass of water?” she asked softly, her eyes downcast. She made sure to appear as broken and helpless as possible, knowing it would tug at the maid’s sympathy. The woman looked at her with pity but said nothing. Jason had made it clear that no one was allowed to speak to her, to even look at her. Like a possessive, jealous child, he would kill anyone who dared to lay eyes on what he considered “his.”

But Y/N wasn't his. Not anymore.

The maid nodded silently and turned to fetch the water. Y/N's heart raced as she watched her go. This was it. Her chance to escape. To reclaim her life.

And she wasn't going to waste it.

The maid reached for the plastic jug and glass—plastic, because after Y/N had nicked Jason with a shard of glass during one of their first nights together, he'd made sure to remove anything she could weaponize. The moment the maid handed her the glass, Y/N lunged. Her hands wrapped around the woman's throat, cutting off any chance of a scream. The maid thrashed, her eyes wide with panic, but Y/N held firm, her grip unrelenting until the woman's struggles weakened, and she slumped to the floor, dead.

Y/N's chest heaved as she released the maid, her hands trembling but her resolve steady. She turned to the chain around her ankle, tugging at it with all her strength. The weakened link finally gave way, the metal snapping with a sharp clink. After two hundred and forty-two days of captivity of enduring Jason's nightly torment, she was free.

She moved quickly, stripping the maid of her clothes and replacing them with her own. Guilt flickered in her chest as she pulled on the maid's uniform, but it was nothing compared to the relief of shedding the outfits Jason had chosen for her—garish, revealing things she would never have worn by choice. Once the maid was dressed in her place, Y/N dragged the deceased woman onto the bed, tucking her under the covers to buy herself more time.

At exactly five o'clock, Y/N slipped out of the room, her footsteps light and deliberate as she tip-toed through the penthouse. She rarely saw much of it; Jason only unchained her when he felt like it, and even then, he never let her out of his sight. But she remembered the layout well enough. The living room, the hallway, the door—it was all etched into her mind from the few times she'd been allowed to wander.

One thing worked in her favor: the maid was always brought in and out with a black bag over her head, a precaution to keep the penthouse's location a secret. Y/N used that very loophole to her advantage. She waited by the door, her heart pounding, until she heard the familiar footsteps of the guard approaching.

The man didn’t recognize her. Why would he? Low-level goons were only tasked with ensuring the “woman in the penthouse” didn’t escape. They had no idea what she looked like. Without a word, the guard placed the bag over her head and led her out. Y/N’s nerves were alight with fear and anticipation as she was guided into a car, the bag blocking her vision but not her determination.

As the car started moving, her mind raced. What if Jason had already figured it out? He was no fool, and it was only a matter of time before he realized she was gone. But for now, she was free. And she wasn't going to waste this chance.

The car rumbled along the uneven streets of Gotham, each bump and turn making Y/N's heart race faster. The black bag over her head was suffocating, but she forced herself to stay calm, to focus on the sounds around her. The hum of the engine, the occasional honk of a horn, the distant wail of a siren—it all told her one thing: she was getting farther away from the penthouse. Farther away from him.

But freedom wasn't guaranteed yet. Jason was relentless, and if he discovered her escape before she could disappear into the chaos of Gotham, he would stop at nothing to find her. She had to move quickly, to vanish before he even realized she was gone.

The car came to a stop, and Y/N's breath hitched. She heard the driver's door open and close, followed by footsteps approaching her side. The door swung open, and a gruff voice said, “Out.”

She obeyed, stepping out of the car with her hands clenched into fists to keep them from shaking. The guard gripped her arm, leading her forward. She could hear the faint sound of voices, the clatter of dishes, the hum of a busy street. They were in the city, somewhere public. This was her chance.

The guard stopped walking, and Y/N felt him fumbling with something—likely the bag over her head. She didn't wait for him to remove it. In one swift motion, she drove her elbow into his stomach, catching him off guard. He grunted, his grip on her arm loosening, and she twisted free, tearing the bag off her head.

The sudden burst of light blinded her for a moment, but she didn't stop. She ran, weaving through the crowded sidewalk, her heart pounding in her ears. Behind her, she heard the guard shouting, but she didn't look back. She couldn't.

Gotham's streets were a maze of chaos, and Y/N used that to her advantage. She ducked into an alley, then another, her feet carrying her as far and as fast as they could. She didn't know where she was going, only that she needed to get away.

Finally, she stumbled into a dimly lit subway station, her chest heaving as she leaned against a wall to catch her breath. She glanced around, her eyes darting from face to face, searching for any sign of Jason or his men. But there was nothing. Just the usual crowd of Gothamites, oblivious to her plight.

She bought a ticket with the few dollars she'd taken from the maid's pocket and boarded the next train, sinking into a seat as the doors closed behind her. The train lurched forward, and for the first time in months, Y/N allowed herself to breathe.

But the relief was short-lived. Jason would come for her. She knew he would. He had made it clear that she belonged to him, and he wasn't the type to let go of what he considered his.

As the train hurtled through the dark tunnels, Y/N's thoughts spiraled. She needed a plan, and fast. She had to disappear, to become someone Jason could never find. But how? Gotham was his city, his kingdom, and his eyes were everywhere. There was no corner of this place he didn't control, no shadow deep enough to hide her forever.

She got off at the next station, closer to the heart of the city. She knew exactly where she had to go. There was only one person who could protect her now, only one man who stood a chance against Jason Todd.

The Batman.

Jason's father. His mentor. His greatest enemy.

Y/N had been around Jason long enough to know the depth of his hatred for the Dark Knight. It was personal, all-consuming, and violent. As the daughter of a villain, she didn't expect much sympathy from Batman. But as a victim of Jason's obsession? Maybe, just maybe, he'd listen. She knew Batman was already hunting the Arkham Knight. If she could reach him, if she could buy herself enough time, she might finally escape this nightmare for good.

She stepped off the subway platform and hurried toward the exit, her heart pounding with every step. The rain outside was relentless, pouring down in sheets, turning the Gotham skyline into a blur of neon and shadows. She barely noticed. Her focus was singular: get to the GCPD. Get to Gordon. Get to Batman.

But then she heard it—a gruff voice cutting through the noise of the rain.

“There! Stop her!”

Jason's men. They'd found her.

Panic surged through her veins as she broke into a run, her feet slamming against the slick pavement. The rain soaked through her clothes, the cold biting into her skin, but she didn't care. She couldn't stop. Not now. Not when she was so close.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, her heart hammering in her chest. She could feel him—Jason. His presence was like a shadow, always looming, always watching. Even when he wasn't there, she could feel the weight of his gaze, the burning intensity of his obsession.

But she couldn't let him win. Not this time.

Through the downpour, she saw it: the Bat-Signal, its iconic symbol glowing faintly against the stormy sky. It was her beacon, her North Star. She knew what it meant. Batman was here. He was close.

The GCPD headquarters loomed in the distance, its lights cutting through the rain-soaked darkness. If she could just reach Commissioner Gordon, if she could just get to Batman, maybe—maybe—she'd have a chance. She pushed herself harder, her legs burning, her lungs screaming for air. Every step felt like a battle, but she couldn't stop. She was so close.

But then, a shadow stepped into her path.

“Hey there, missy,” a voice drawled, low and sleazy. From the silhouette, she knew it wasn't him—not Jason. Just some low-life thug, the kind who wouldn't have dared to even glance in her direction when her father was alive. Her face twisted in disgust, but she didn't have time for this. She turned to run the other way, only to find another man blocking her escape.

“Ain’t she gorgeous?” the second one sneered, his voice dripping with malice.

“Stay back!” Y/N warned, raising her fists. Her father had kept her sheltered, pristine, and untouched by the filth of Gotham's streets—not out of love, but because she was his most prized possession, a bargaining chip to be sold to the highest bidder. But she was done being someone's property. Despite her sheltered upbringing, she had taught herself basic self-defense. She wasn't going down without a fight.

“Don’t even try, sugar,” the first man said, pulling a pocketknife from his jacket. Y/N's heart sank. Her only option was to run. She turned to bolt, but the second man grabbed her wrist, his grip like iron. She squirmed and kicked, but it was no use.

The one with the knife stepped closer, the blade glinting in the dim light. “Would be a waste to kill her right away,” he said, his voice sickeningly casual. “Not every day you see a face this pretty on the streets.”

“Damn straight,” the other agreed, his breath hot and foul against her ear. “I can think of a thing or two to do with her.”

“No! Help! Please, somebody help!” Y/N screamed, her voice raw with desperation.

“Shut up!” the man barked, clamping a hand over her mouth. Without thinking, Y/N bit down hard, her teeth sinking into his palm. He yelped and jerked his hand away, his face contorted with rage. “You stupid cunt!” he snarled, slapping her across the face.

The blow sent her reeling, her ears ringing and her vision swimming. She felt their hands on her, rough and invasive, and heard the sickening sound of fabric tearing as the knife sliced through her dress. Her stomach churned. Is this how I die?

Her eyes drifted upward, toward the sky. The Bat-Signal burned bright, closer than ever. The GCPD was just around the block. The realization sparked something in her—a surge of adrenaline, a flicker of hope.

With a sudden burst of strength, she twisted free from the man's grip and drove her fist into his face. It wasn't a perfect hit, but it was enough to make him stagger. She spun around and kicked the other man between the legs, her blow weaker than she wanted but still effective. He doubled over with a grunt, giving her the precious seconds she needed.

She didn't look back. She ran, her legs carrying her as fast as they could, her heart pounding in her chest. The GCPD was so close. Batman was so close.

But they were quick to catch her, and relentless in their pursuit. She felt the fabric of her dress tear further, the cold air biting at her exposed skin. "No, please!" she sobbed, her voice breaking as she begged, their hands groping and violating every inch of her they could reach. Desperation clawed at her chest, and before she could stop herself, words spilled from her lips—words she never thought she'd say.

“Jason! Help me, please!”

It was a plea born of sheer terror, a cry for the one person who, despite his flaws, his violence, his obsession, had always ensured she was safe. When she was locked away in his penthouse, she knew no harm could touch her. It was a twisted kind of security, one that now felt like a curse.

And then, as if summoned by her cry, a gunshot rang out.

The bullet tore through the air, striking the first man in the head. Blood and brain matter sprayed across Y/N's face, and she froze, a mix of horror and relief washing over her. In the chaos of fighting for her life, she hadn't noticed that Jason's men, who had been chasing her since the subway station, had suddenly vanished. Now, she knew why.

The Arkham Knight dropped from a nearby rooftop, landing with practiced ease. The gravel crunched under his boots as he strode toward her, his expression unreadable behind the cold, menacing mask. Y/N stood paralyzed, her breath caught in her throat, as the second man scrambled backward, his voice trembling with fear.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know she was—”

Another gunshot cut him off mid-sentence, the bullet finding its mark with deadly precision. His body crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Jason didn't even flinch. He holstered his gun, his focus entirely on Y/N. The rain poured down around them, the sound of it mingling with the distant hum of the city. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, his silence more terrifying than any words.

Y/N stood there, drenched and shaking, her face streaked with blood and tears. She didn't know whether to feel relief or dread. Jason had saved her, but at what cost? She was back in his grasp, and she knew there would be no escaping him again.

The Arkham Knight stopped just inches from her, his masked face tilting slightly as he studied her. Then, without a word, he reached out, his gloved hand brushing a strand of wet hair from her face. The gesture was almost tender, but it sent a shiver down her spine.

“You called for me,” he said finally, his voice low and rough, almost disbelieving. “You called for me.”

Y/N couldn't speak. She didn't know what to say. She had called for him, and he had come. But now, as he stood there, his presence suffocating and his grip on her life tightening once more, she realized the truth: there was no escaping him.

Jason Todd.

The Arkham Knight.

He had warned her. He had told her not to run, not to try to leave him. But she had. She had foolishly thought she could escape, that she could find safety with Batman. She had thought the Dark Knight could protect her.

Tears began to fall, streaming down her face, and soon they turned into uncontrollable sobs. Jason pulled her into an embrace, his arms wrapping around her like a vice and pulled his helmet off with a click. It was the kind of embrace a hero might give his damsel in distress after saving her. But Jason was no hero. He was a villain, through and through.

“Please,” she choked out, her voice trembling. “Please, Jason. Let me go.”

She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears, her body shivering from the cold and the shock. She was barely clothed, vulnerable, and broken. For a moment, Jason almost felt a flicker of pity for her. Almost.

“You broke the rules, sweetheart,” he said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “But I’ll admit, I’m impressed. Killing the maid so ruthlessly. You almost pulled it off.”

Y/N froze at the venom in his tone, the raw anger that seemed to radiate from him. His grip on her arm tightened painfully, and she winced, but she refused to cry out. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

“You think running to Batman will save you? Batman can't protect you,” Jason snarled, his face inches from hers. His eyes burned with a fury that made her stomach churn. “He can't protect anyone! He left me for dead, remember? He doesn't care about you. He doesn't love you. Not like I do.”

His words cut through her like a knife, each one a reminder of the twisted reality she was trapped in. She wanted to argue, to scream, to fight back, but she was too exhausted, too broken.

“You don't love me,” her voice was barely audible over the sound of the rain. “This isn't love. This is obsession.”

For a moment, Jason just stared at her, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he slammed her against the alley wall, his body pressing into hers, trapping her. His hands framed her face, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the anger burning in his eyes.

“Then what is love, Y/N?” he demanded. “Tell me.”

Y/N hesitated. Love? She had never truly known it. Her life had been a series of transactions—lust, respect, fear. She had never fallen in love, never been loved in return. “I don't know,” she admitted, her fists involuntarily tightening around the fabric of his suit.

“You don't get it, do you?” he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “I'm the only one who can protect you. The only one who will. Batman? He's a myth. A symbol. But me? I'm real. I'm here. And I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Even if it means locking you away where no one can ever hurt you again.”

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “Jason, please..”

“No,” he interrupted, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. “No more running. No more trying to leave me. You're mine. And I'm not letting you go. Not ever.”

Before she could respond, his lips crashed down on hers, the kiss fierce and possessive. She tried to push him away, but he only deepened the kiss, his hands sliding down to her waist, pulling her closer. She could feel the desperation in his touch, the raw, unrelenting fear of losing her that drove him to this madness.

When he finally pulled away, they were both breathless, the air between them heavy with tension. He rested his forehead against hers, his breathing ragged, his presence overwhelming.

“Now let me show you my love,” his voice a low, dangerous promise that sent a shiver down her spine.

His grip tightened on her waist, the rough material of his gloves digging into her exposed skin. Y/N's breath hitched as Jason's hands moved with purpose, his touch both possessive and deliberate. The rain continued to pour around them, soaking through what little clothing she had left, but she barely noticed. All she could focus on was the heat of his body, the way his presence seemed to swallow her whole.

Jason used his knee to part her legs, his movements deliberate and possessive.

“Jason, please...” she whispered, silent tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Shhh, it's okay, darling,” he murmured against her lips, his voice deceptively soft, almost soothing. But there was no mistaking the intensity in his touch, the unyielding determination in his actions.

He wasn't asking. He wasn't giving her a choice.

“Let me go...” she spoke again, her voice more broken than ever, but he silenced her with another kiss, this one deeper, more demanding. His hands roamed her body, mapping every curve as if he were memorizing her, claiming her.

She wanted to resist, to push him away, but her body betrayed her. The heat of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, the way he seemed to know exactly how to unravel her—it was too much. She felt herself weakening, her resolve crumbling under the weight of his obsession.

“Don't you understand?” he growled against her lips, leaving no room for argument, “I can't lose you. Not you too.”

She didn't know what to say. She didn't know if there was anything she could say. Because deep down, a part of she understood. A part of her saw the broken man beneath the armor, the boy who had been abandoned and left to die. The boy who had to claw his way back to life.

And as much as she wanted to hate him, as much as she wanted to run, she couldn't. Because now she knew, no matter how far she went, he would always find her.

“Mine. Mine to protect. Mine to keep. Mine to love.”

His words sent a shiver down her spine, but before she could resist any further, he lifted her effortlessly, pressing her back against the cold, wet wall of the alley. His hands gripped her thighs, holding her in place as he leaned in, his breath hot against her neck.

“You called for me,” he repeated, his lips brushing against her skin. “You called for me. That means something, Y/N. It means you know deep down that I'm the only one who can keep you safe. The only one who truly understands you.”

Her breath hitched, her mind racing. She wanted to argue, to deny it, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, another thought surfaced, sharp and accusing.

“You heard me,” she said, feeling the stab of betrayal in her stomach. “That means you were watching. You let them touch me. Why?”

Jason stilled, his grip on her tightening almost imperceptibly. For a moment, he said nothing, his face unreadable. Then, slowly, he pulled back just enough to meet her gaze.

“I wanted you to see,” he said, his voice low and steady, each word deliberate, cutting through the rain and the chaos like a blade. “What happens when you try to leave me. What happens when you think you don't need me. Those men?” He gestured vaguely toward the bodies lying motionless in the alley, his tone dripping with disdain. “They're nothing. They're ants. But out there, in the world you're so desperate to run back to, there are far worse things waiting for you. Monsters who won't hesitate to tear you apart. And I needed you to understand that. To see it for yourself.”

He had let it happen. He had watched from the shadows, waited, and only stepped in when she called for him. It was a cruel, calculated lesson, one designed to break her, to shatter any illusion she had of freedom. He wanted her to see, to feel, that he was her only refuge—no matter how twisted that refuge might be.

“You're a monster,” she whispered, her voice breaking, the words barely audible over the sound of the rain.

Jason's lips curled into a faint, almost sad smile, as if her accusation amused him in some dark, twisted way. “Maybe,” he admitted, his voice softer now, almost tender. “But I'm your monster. And I'll burn this whole city to the ground before I let anyone else touch you.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding, leaving no room for doubt. He meant every word. He would destroy everything—and everyone—who stood between them.

Y/N's resistance crumbled completely. She stared past him, her eyes locking onto the faint glow of the Bat-Signal in the distance. The symbol of hope, of justice, of everything she had once believed in. But now, it felt like a cruel joke, a taunt. The hope it represented drained out of her, replaced by a hollow ache that settled deep in her chest.

Jason's lips trailed down her neck, his touch alternating between gentle and rough, as if he couldn't decide whether to cherish her or punish her for trying to leave. His hands gripped her tighter, pulling her closer, as if he could erase the distance between them—both physical and emotional.

“You're not going anywhere,” he said, his voice firm, final. “Not ever again. I'm the one for you sweetheart. Only me.”

She wanted to deny it, to tell him he was wrong, to scream that she would never stop fighting him. But the words wouldn't come. Instead, she clung to him, her fingers digging into the fabric of his suit as if he were the only thing keeping her grounded.

And maybe he was.

Y/N closed her eyes, the tears mixing with the rain on her face like a silent requiem for the freedom she would never know again. Her heart was torn between the instinct to fight and the crushing weight of resignation. Jason Todd was no longer just a man—he was a tempest, a force of nature that would devour everything in its path until she was all that remained, bound to him in a way that defied reason.

And as much as she wanted to hate him, as much as she wanted to scream and claw her way out of his grasp, a part of her recognized the truth she could no longer ignore—in his own fractured, jagged way, he loved her.

It was a love that defied sanity, a love that would raze cities and shatter worlds to keep her close. It was a love that terrified her, not because it was cruel, but because it was real.

And in the end, that was the most devastating truth of all.

tag: @swamiiyasssss

#jason todd #red hood #batman #dc #dc comics #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #arkham knight #arkham knight x reader #yandere male #male yandere #yandere arkham knight #yandere jason todd #arkhamverse #arkham knight smut #arkham knight x y/n #tw: dubcon #tw: noncon #anon asks

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leclucklerc · 1 year ago

Text

Something Immortal CL16 - 01. Fate

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Wayne!reader

Summary: Bruce Wayne loves his kids. He really do. To the point he's going to buy his son a whole ass Formula One team.

Word Count: 5.6K

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It’s a fairytale-like story where a billionaire stumbled upon a baby – fresh out of her mother’s womb, still red and wrinkled – on his doorstep.

There’s a note, written by someone who he can faintly recognize as one of his one-night stands months ago. A messy note with an almost unreadable handwriting declaring that she doesn’t want to have any responsibility for this baby. That as the sperm donor, now it’s his responsibility to take care of the child.

He stared at the note before blue eyes turned their way toward the baby once again. And then, as if the baby recognized his stare, blearily eyes blinked.

It was at that moment that the man fell in love with the baby in front of him.

It was also the start of Bruce Wayne and y/n Wayne’s story.

Y/n understands that her father is not a perfect man.

He had made many wrong choices, choices that he believed were the best but in reality, it’s the choice that ended up doing more hurt than comfort.

Communication is not his forte, as well as baring his emotion to those around him. There are many instances where her father intended to say one thing but, in the end, the words that escaped his mouth are more biting. More blunt. More heartless.

She knows it’s normal for someone to have a problem conveying their emotions. But in their family? In their family where there are far too many misunderstandings and far more unstable emotions as well as the tendency to take their own conclusion without consulting with anyone?

Well.

Jason used to call her the perfect child. The only child that grew up within the walls of the Wayne manor that ended up with a stable emotion and right mind. That she’s the perfect princess that Bruce Wayne always wanted. Unlike him, goes unheard. You’re the favorite, the one he favors the most, the one that he loves the most, goes unheard. Unlike him, once again, goes unheard.

It’s a bit funny to hear the man say that, because all her life, y/n is sure that she’s the least favorite child.

When she was a child, Dick had always been the golden boy. The perfect partner for Batman when they’re wearing masks and a charming happy child off mask. It’s a bit petty, but there was a time in y/n’s life when she felt a lot of resentment for the older. After all, she’s Bruce’s biological daughter, she’s the child that fell into Bruce’s life first, and yet-

And yet why didn’t he spend more time with her? Why didn’t he always explicitly forbid her to venture through the night like he and Dick?

Why was she never enough?

Of course, that resentment was short-lived because it’s Dick. Dick with his playful laughs and sunshine smile. Dick who always held her hands, guiding her away into some new adventure that he had created a mere minutes prior. Dick is the best big brother anyone could ever asked for. He always made time for her – even to play with her dolls or play pretend – always took care of and protected her in school, and always prioritized her over anything in his life – even Robin.

It’s hard to hate Dick, even after his huge fight with Bruce and his moving out of the Wayne manor. It’s hard to hate Dick, even though he had only hugged her in the middle of the night, muttering that he couldn’t stand living in the manor anymore, that B is beyond reasoning, and disappeared the next day.

It was hard to accept, that her perfect big brother suddenly disappeared from her life. That she was back to being the only child. That the only contact that her big brother made was the occasional phone calls or the screaming match that she sometimes heard from the cave.

What if she also wants to live with her big brother?

What if she also missed Dick?

Maybe that’s why Jason had always been so special to her. An older brother that Bruce found whilst in the middle of stealing Batmobile’s tires. She knows that Jason is not perfect. He has a potty mouth and often says rude things in a fit of anger. His temper was also extraordinarily short, and a bit unpredictable.

But Jason always tries.

He had always tried to be the older brother that y/n needed in her lonely life. He had always tried to make up all of his brash personality and short fuse. He had always tried to apologize first, always tried to keep up with all of her hobbies and interests. Always tried to be there for her. An older brother who often read her to sleep and talked sense to her father. An older brother who fills in the huge gap that Dick left behind.

An older brother who had promised her that he would always be right by her side. That he will be there during her dance recital and her university graduation. That he will be there during her first date to give her lover a shovel talk. That he will always be there to make up for the lack of her father and their oldest brother’s presence.

To be the perfect older brother for her.

An older brother who died.

Y/n love for cars started when Jason stole one of Bruce’s Ferrari.

It’s a custom—a vintage beauty in the color of midnight and the only one that exists in the world. Her dad received it years ago as a thank-you for his massive investment in the company. Y/n knows that it’s one of her dad’s favorite cars. He rarely used it, only for special occasions, and he often came to the garage and polished it personally.

Most of your siblings shared that sentiment. Even those who don’t really care about cars appreciate their beauty.

So it’s normal for Jason – an automotive enthusiast, who has his own personalized bike and follows Formula 1 religiously – to be entranced by it. He had taken a liking to it since his Robin days when Dad once took him for a drive with that Ferrari. Many things had happened between those times and current times, but it seems his love for the car didn’t diminish.

Y/n was in the garage when Jason appeared, whistling and keys jiggling in his hand.

“I thought we’re not allowed to use that one,” pointed out the woman, grabbing his leather jacket in a sad attempt to stop him.

Jason raised an eyebrow before he raised his hand to ruffle the top of your hair. “As long as he doesn’t know I’ll be fine,” he scoffed.

“I bet Alfred knows.”

“Alfie knows everything.”

Y/n continues to stare at him as Jason reaches the Ferrari. You could practically see all the love and adoration in his eyes as he walked around the car as if he was about to inspect it.

“You know,” y/n started. “I could tell Dad.”

The older male stopped at that. “You wouldn’t,” he said, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I could,” you shrugged.

“What do you want in exchange for your silence?”

You grinned. “When you take it out for a drive, I want to go too.”

Jason seemed to contemplate that bargain for a couple of seconds before he nodded. “Deal.”

Truth to be told, it’s not like y/n was interested in automotive or cars back then. Back then, she had just seen it as an opportunity to become closer to Jason. After all, his relationship with the family is tense during the best days and downright horrible during the worst ones.

Y/n had been hesitant about approaching the man after the whole Red Hood and the… Jason being dead… thing that she had elected to stay away from him for some time. Most of the time, the man doesn’t even come to the manor if he can help it and only visits during vigilante business. Considering y/n is not a vigilante, well.

Jason had been her favorite brother. He had been the brother who understood her perfectly. The sibling that is the closest to her age.

The sibling that she had grieved for the longest.

Of course, she had been overjoyed at his return, despite all of the killings and the not-right-in-the-head part. It’s still Jason after all. It’s still the brother who likes to accompany her in the library and the brother who helps her with her English homework.

It’s still the older brother that she loves with all her heart, despite all the differences and all the things in between.

Jason still laughed with his full body, eyes still crinkling in amusement every time he found something funny. He still loves to read those cheesy romance books and believes in true love. Jason is still Jason and that’s all that matters.

That’s why she had seen it as an opportunity to once again, grow closer to Jason. To rebuild the relationship that had years ago. To become siblings once again.

She’s not even sure why Jason agreed to take her alone, not that she’s complaining. She just hopped into the car – excitement high and brimming – as she began thinking what kind of conversation they could have or if should they stop by for food afterward-

Though, in the end, both y/n and Jason crashed the car.

In both of your defenses, Jason – who was driving the car at that time – didn’t mean it. The both of you were high in euphoria and the thrill of high speed after all. And the road near the Wayne Manor is always empty considering, well, it’s also owned by the Wayne family, so no one is ever in it.

It’s not your or Jason’s fault that they didn’t predict a stray cat will pass through the road.

Y/n had screeched and Jason had cursed to hell back as he swerved. It’s only due to the man’s extensive experience as a vigilante and doing many many car chases throughout Gotham that the crash is not a horrible one.

But still, the custom Ferrari had a big dent and scratch mark on its side. Certainly not something that the both of you can hide from.

Considering that it’s your dad’s favorite car, it’s only normal for him to be mad. But one look at your bruised forehead and Jason’s bleeding noise squashed down all of that anger and replaced it with worry and fretting. It seems his love for his children greatly overpowers any fond memories he has of that car.

However, it doesn’t mean that both of you came out of that mess scot-free. As a punishment, Bruce told both you and Jason to go fix the car.

Fixing the car is a generous term considering you and Jason only had to bring the car to something like a garage specializing in Ferrari or something. But though, it was also the moment that you started to build your relationship with Jason once again.

“Why do you like it so much though?” you had asked.

“Because it’s cool,” grunted out Jason as the both of you lounged in one of his safehouses. The TV is on, showing a Formula 1 race being broadcast. “Look, I know it just looks like cars going around in circles but you gotta watch the whole thing to understand the thrill!”

Letting out a hum, you settled once again on the sofa.

“Are you interested in it?” you asked in it. “To… you know, becoming your daytime job.”

“Dunno, being a crime lord is kind of a daytime kind of thing.”

You let out a huff of laughter at that. “You know that’s not what I mean,” you said, nudging him by the shoulder. “Dad is… you know how he’s trying to announce your revival publicly right?”

Y/n knows Jason knows that. Practically everyone in the family knows it at this point.

“And well, for your civilian persona, maybe having a daytime job that’s not borderline illegal could help.”

Jason let out a scoff at that. “Psh,” he said. “I’m like, way too old to start my carreer in racing,” waved Jason off, though Y/n can sense a hint of disappointment on his tone. “There’s no team who wants me anyway, what with my anger issue and bout of madness.”

The female frowned at that. “You know that’s not an issue,” she said.

“The hell does that mean?”

“If you want to become a Formula One driver, or anything – really – you just only need to say it,” said the woman. “Dad will practically buy you a private island if you asked him, let alone a Formula One team.”

Her brother stared at her, eyes blinking, and y/n merely kept her gaze on the screen in front of them.

“Are you- are you being serius?” Chocked out Jason.

“Jay,” started the female. “Dad id practically building a zoo on our backyard for Damian’s pure shit and giggles,” she said, reminding the older male about the construction that had been happening for some time and Damian’s dedication to it. “If Dad thinks you being a Formula One driver can help you to your… recovery, or you being closer to the family, he’s going to buy the whole paddock at this point.”

“… You’re being serious.”

“Obviously,” said y/n. “What? You don’t want to?”

“I don’t-“ Bit out Jason, “Have any time for that.”

Jason said that he doesn’t have any time for that. Not that he doesn’t wants it.

Y/n remember Jason’s childhood bedroom back in the manor. The old Formula One poster that had faded over time. The miniature Ferrari Formula One car that had been customized gift from the company, a special gift requested by Dad all those years ago. Or that day years ago, when Dad had taken a much younger y/n and Jason to Monza to watch the race.

She stared back at the race that’s showing on the screen in front of them.

Well, she thought. It won’t be too hard to convince dad to buy a formula one team.

You see, the thing is, contrary to popular belief, Bruce Wayne doesn’t want his children to become vigilantes like him. After all, he knows best how dangerous the job can be. How with a single mistake, a single misstep, it will be your life that is in danger.

He had been a bit accepting of the idea after Dick. Bruce knows that he’s not a great father, that he has made way too many mistakes, but seeing how great of a hero Dick is, the older man had accepted the fact that he may not have been a great father, but a great mentor.

However, that kind of thought soon changed.

After Jason, after Ethiopia and its explosion, and Joker’s manic laugh, he doesn’t want any of his children to become a vigilante. He doesn’t want to lose any of his children anymore. Bruce had been scared for the day that y/n would come to him and declare her desire to become a crime-fighting vigilante to come.

And yet, that day never came. Instead, y/n had come to him holding a stack of papers that Bruce recognized as his own father’s research paper. There’s a bright grin on her face, so much like Martha Wayne’s, as you declare, “I want to become a doctor!” said the girl. “Just like Grandpa Thomas!”

Oh, Bruce loves all of his children equally. He had loved each of them with the same intensity. Yet, at this moment, all he could see was the crying baby that was left on his doorstep all those years ago—the result of a careless one-night stand when he was too young even to manage his grief properly.

Y/n had been the first child that he raised and was even under his care years before he took in Dick as his ward. Bruce was practically a child himself when y/n appeared in his life, just a crying baby that was dumped on his doorstep by a mother who didn’t want her. He had made many mistakes and actually managed a somehow decent job at the whole being a father thing due to Alfred’s helping hand. She had been his only daughter for so long and seeing her like this, wanting to become someone just like his late father-

Maybe, just maybe. Maybe Bruce did a good job in this whole fathering thing.

That happened years ago, and now fast forward to now, y/n has become the youngest professor in Thomas Wayne Hospital. Considering her achievements and who her father is, it’s a no-brainer that she will take up the director seat soon enough. She too, alongside Jason, had been the face of Wayne Industry charities where her older brother focuses on helping street children to have a more stable future, she focuses on improving Gotham’s horrid healthcare system.

And of course, her side job.

The doctor to her siblings’ recklessness.

“Ow!” Hissed out Tim as y/n began stitching his wound in the med bay. “I didn’t expect it to be that painful-“

“Of course, it’s painful,” answered the woman with a scowl. “And you’re the one that’s insisting on not using any anesthesia, so suck it up like a big boy.”

“You know I got all sleepy if I had anesthesia,” grumbled the younger male. “I need to study a case file later tonight-“

“Tim,” cut off y/n. “When did you last sleep?”

Tim blinked. “… Last night?”

“Drake is lying,” interrupted Damian as he appeared next to the girl with a glare in his eyes. “He was last asleep approximately 65 hours ago,” continues the boy, tattling his older brother without a care in the world.

“You-“

“TIMOTHY JACKSON DRAKE-WAYNE!” Yelled y/n as she finished out the stitch. “What did I tell you about the importance of sleep!?”

“Well-“

“You’re still growing! I know that you just took over the CEO position and there are case files that you need to look up to, but how many times do I have to tell you that resting your body is also equally important!?”

The younger can’t even come up with a retort as he resigned himself on the onslaught of scolding that’s being rained upon him.

Dick is laughing easily besides them, fully enjoying the whole debacle.

It didn’t took y/n long to finish up tending on her sibling injuries before she moved towards where Bruce is sitting.

“I’m not injured,” he replied, though at the same time, letting his daughter to examined him closely.

Y/n furrowed her eyebrow at that, a gesture that his own mother likes to make when she knows that Bruce is lying, before she began examining him. It was silent around them, as Dick had decided to haul Tim up to his bedroom.

“Dad,” started y/n as she bandaged a small wound on his shoulder. “Can I talk to you about something?”

Bruce hummed.

“If I ask you to buy something, are you going to do it?”

That made him raised an eyebrow. Out of all of his children, y/n is probably the one who has the largest personal income besides Tim. It’s rare for the woman to ask Bruce something ever since she has her own money.

She’s probably going to ask him buy something expensive.

“Depends,” he replied. “What do you want?”

“A Formula One team?”

Huh.

Bruce has so many questions at that.

He knows that a few months ago that y/n and Jason had crashed his Ferrari. As a punishment, he had asked them to fixed it together. He also knows that the both of them had been bonding over it. Y/n even visited Jason often enough to know the man’s daily habit at this point.

“What’s this all of the sudden?” he asked instead. “I didn’t know that you’re that… passionate about Formula One.”

It’s not that he’s against or doesn’t have the money to buy a Formula One team. Hell, he could probably buy the entirety of Formula One and go on his merry way. Wayne Industry is trying to expand into the automotive world too these past years – something that had caused Tim a great headache lately – but his daughter who previously doesn’t have any interest in Formula One suddenly asked him to buy a team there?

“It’s not for me, obviously,” said the woman. “It’s for… Jason.”

“Jason?” Bruce blinked.

“Lately we’ve been bonding a lot,” started y/n. “It’s great to have my older brother back, and we’ve been bonding a lot over Formula One because if you remember, Jason had always liked it, even before… everything.”

Bruce does remember it. The weekend that he spent in Monza with younger Jason and y/n had always been one of his fondest memory.

“I think Jason had wanted to become a Formule One driver, once.”

That, is something that Bruce doesn’t know.

“He obviously can’t right now, but if you buy a team, he could… I don’t know, do some testing, go on a simulation, or if god’s willing, maybe even race for the team,” explained y/n. “I know that this seems like a bizzare request dad, but I think this can make Jason really happy.”

An image of Jason appeared inside of his mind.

Of Jason scowling in front of him. Of Jason who had begged him to choose him over his killer. Of his son, laying lifeless on his arm, body cooling rapidly as the time stopped around him.

Of Jason, laughing and smiling decked in Ferrari colors in Monza all those years ago.

It’s an easy choice for Bruce Wayne- no, as Jason’s dad.

There’s a lot of hustle and bustle during the Monaco Grand Prix. This is not uncommon, considering how many celebrities or another important figures that attended that particular GP.

Though usually, Charles tuned them all out. After all, this is the Monaco GP. His home race. Monaco GP is probably the Grand Prix that matters the most to him.

He really can’t help it. It has been his childhood dream to race in the streets of Monaco. Charles can remember vividly his childhood memories when he would watch the Monaco GP from his friends’ balcony. To watch the cars, speed up through the streets that he’s familiar with, just admiring and daydreaming about his dream as a Formula 1 driver. Years later, Charles managed to become a Formula 1 driver. Not only a Formula 1 driver but a Ferrari Formula 1 driver. It’s everything that he had ever wanted and yet-

It’s only losses after losses. Disappointments after disappointments. A string of failed races every time it’s time for him to race in his home country. People like to call it his Monaco curse. Charles personally found it ridiculous.

And yet they’re all living in a world where superheroes and supervillains roam around the land. They’re living in a world where there’s an alien and a man who dressed up as a bat posing as their heroes. Where villains who wants world domination appear every week.

So maybe, a curse is not something too far off.

Nonetheless, every time the Monaco GP turned up; it put him in a pensive mood. There are just so many things inside of his mind. The excitement of the race, all the bits of knowledge that he had to know regarding the car and the track, the fear of disappointment that kept hanging on his back over and over again.

Too many things to contemplate and brood about for him to listen to the idle chatter inside the garage. This year though, he can’t help but tune in.

“There’s an important guest in attendance,” said his manager during lunch. Charles eyed the chicken that was being served in front of his manager almost hungrily before he turned his gaze toward the sad plate of salad in front of him. “You know Bruce Wayne?”

“Ah,” said Charles in realization. Charles is not even an American and he’s very familiar with the name Bruce Wayne and the Wayne legacy. To be honest, it’s harder to not know the man considering he’s gracing every news outlet every other week. “The richest man in the world?”

“Bingo,” nodded the man. “He’ll attend the Monaco race, with some of his children,” he continued. “Apparently he’s a big fan of cars, and there’s even rumors that the Wayne Industry is going to acquire a team in Formula One soon.”

Oh, that’s news even for him. He wonders if FIA is going to expand the sport or maybe the Wayne Enterprise is going to buy one of the teams. Haas maybe?

“I see,” murmured Charles. “Is he going to stay in one of the team garages or?”

“He’ll be staying with us,” answered his manager. “His father had saved Ferrari from a financial crisis a few decades back, and Bruce Wayne is also one of the major stakeholders in Ferrari. The guy even got a custom-made Ferrari a few years ago… wonder where that went through.”

Well, if Charles also had a custom-made Ferrari, he would parade it around everywhere. But if you’re as rich as Bruce Wayne maybe a custom-made Ferrari is nothing.

Despite everything, Bruce Wayne didn’t actually show up until Sunday, the actual race day. Charles is sitting on top of tires just outside of the Ferrari garage, trying to get into the right head space when there seem to be clamors around him. He heard him before he saw him, as he could hear the increase of camera shutters and conversations.

Bruce Wayne is a large and domineering figure. He’s tall, really tall. Charles thinks there’s a couple of inches in difference in their height, but what really caught his attention is how built the guy is. Formula One drivers are expected to stay light, because the lighter they are, the faster their car will go. He has been way too used to seeing tall and lean men – the other drivers – that Bruce Wayne’s built body made him do a double-check.

Accompanying him, are a younger man and a woman – his children it seems. The man is also tall, taller than Charles but not as tall as Wayne, but he seems to compensate for it with pure muscle. He has tan skin as well as a tuft of dark hair with white streaks in front. The woman is also tall, her face showing few similarities with Wayne. Different from his father and brother who are decked in all black, the woman is wearing a red silk top. Clearly showing the whole paddock the team that she’s rooting for.

Ferrari’s chairman – John Elkann - is walking beside Wayne and is clearly pleased by the declaration from the woman.

“And of course, our driver!” said John when they were nearing the garage. Instantly all eyes were on Charles and almost automatically, a smile appeared on his lips. “Bruce, this is one of our drivers, Charles Leclerc, and Charles, you know Bruce Wayne.”

“Yes,” said Charles, increasing his charm to the max. Being on a good term with Bruce Wayne not only will benefit the racing team but Ferrari as a whole. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Wayne.”

Wayne laughed cheerily at that, shaking his hand with Charles. “It’s an honor for me too,” said the man. “I’ve been a big fan of Formula One for so long, only now do I have the time to watch a race live.”

Charles doubts that. Bruce Wayne is famous for all of his vacations and playboy lifestyle – the latter part had tamed a bit in recent years, considering all the children that he had now. No doubt, if he’s really a fan of Formula One, the man would have found time to watch a race or two.

“And my children too are big fans,” grinned Wayne as he motioned for both of his children to come closer. “This is Jason, my second eldest,” he put an arm around the man who nodded his head towards Charles. “And this is y/n, my youngest daughter.”

For the first time since their arrival, Charles got a good look on their face and-

Oh.

Y/n Wayne is probably the most beautiful woman that Charles had ever seen in his life. Perfectly styled hair, red lipstick across her lips – perfectly complimenting her pearly teeth – and how her outfit today fits her like a glove. She looks really beautiful, almost unreal. It’s a really big compliment because he had seen many beautiful women – models, influencers, celebrities – but no one seems able to compare with the ethereal beauty of Y/n Wayne.

“It’s really nice to meet you,” said Y/n with a large smile. “As you can see,” at this, she motioned her top, there was a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I’m rooting for Ferrari, so I wish you good luck during the race.”

Fuck. Her voice sounds really nice too. Charles needs to open his mouth and answer the woman, but his voice seems to be stuck in his throat.

Finally, after a couple of second of silence, he managed to say, “Yeah,” said the driver. “Yeah, thank you.”

A snort cut through his haze, making Charles turn his eyes towards the older Wayne’s sibling. Jason Wayne stares at him with a raised eyebrow, eyes showing as if he knows something that Charles doesn’t know.

“I hope you enjoy your stay here,” said the driver turning his attention towards Bruce Wayne, trying to steer the conversation away from his awkwardness. Away from y/n Wayne’s perfectly styled hair and a perfect smile. “I was told you will be staying in the garage, yes?”

“Yes,” answered Mr. Wayne. “I’m really excited about it, right Jason? y/n?”

“For sure,” answered Jason, talking for the first time since their arrival here. “Heard you have a shitty luck in your home race, gonna need lots of good luck, no?”

And ouch.

Charles knows that his home race curse is a bit infamous, but being told like this directly in front of his face is hurting his ego a bit. It’s not like he can give the guy a retort back considering he’s Bruce Wayne’s son – one of their biggest sponsors – but still, he can’t help the small twitch of annoyance that appeared on his lips.

“Jason,” said y/n, nudging the elder’s side.

Jason rolled his eyes, holding his hands up in defense.

“Sorry about that,” said y/n. “He’s a bit prickly after the long flight.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” dismissed Charles good-naturedly, not wanting to offend their guests. “My Monaco curse has its own reputation after all.”

“Don’t call it a curse,” laughed y/n. “Someone once said to me that if you acknowledge something as a curse, it will only bring bad luck.”

Charles raised an eyebrow at that. “Oh?” he said, a bit intrigued. It’s an interesting concept after all.

“Yes,” replied the female with a smile. Her eyes crinkled, only making it far more beautiful and show-stopping. “Maybe it’s luck? Luck for me?”

“For you?”

“Well, I think if I managed to see the il Predestino first race win in Monaco I would be a really lucky girl.”

And well, Charles can’t help but bark out a laugh at that. The idea itself is a bit ridiculous, but somehow, it only warms his heart. The woman seems to be amused at his sudden bout of laughter as she too, regards him with some kind of amusement in her eyes.

“That certainly one of the ways to see it,” said the driver, amusement dripping on his tone. “Thank you though, I’ll remember your words during the race and maybe it can serve as my personal lucky charm.”

Y/n let out a laugh at that. “Please do,” replied the woman. “It’s every girl’s dream to be remembered by Charles Leclerc after all.”

“Every girl’s dream huh?” answered the driver. “Is it also yours?”

“Well, for one, I’m a woman,” said y/n grinning.

“Mhm, I can see that-”

“That’s enough of that,” Cut off Jason and it made Charles remember that it’s not only him and y/n in the room. The older of the Wayne children stared at the both of them with something akin to disapproval that made Charles flicker his eyes to where Bruce Wayne was. Thankfully, he’s deep in a conversation with John. “I really don’t want to see my sister flirting with someone,” this he made a vague gagging sound, “and Bruce is leaving, so we better get going.”

“Ah,” said y/n, turning her eyes towards where her father is. “Jason is right, it’s really nice to meet you, Charles.”

He really can’t help the twinge of disappointment that appeared inside of him. He had been enjoying their conversation after all. The driver wishes that he doesn’t have a race soon so that they can have more time just getting to know each other. “It’s also really nice to meet you, y/n.”

The woman smiled at that before she leaned closer, startling him a bit. “Let’s continue our conversation later at the after-party,” she whispered, giving him a wink before she leaned back and said again in a louder voice. “Anyway, good luck out there. We’re really looking forward to the race later.”

Soon after that, Bruce Wayne’s entourage moved on, no doubt exploring the paddock with Ferrari’s chairman, leaving Charles standing there staring.

“Stop that gawking,” muttered his managed, snapping him out of his trance. “We all know y/n Wayne is pretty.”

Charles spluttered. “I was-“ he began fumbling. “I was not gawking at her.”

“Mhm,” hummed his manager. “Anyway, get your head right on your shoulder loverboy, the race is starting soon.”

The driver grumbled as he turned around towards the garage.

He’s Charles Leclerc. He does not gawk. He’s not-

Y/n Wayne’s beautiful smile flashed across his mind.

Oh.

Well, he’s a simple man after all.

#bruce wayne as lawrance stroll lmaoo #formula one fanfiction #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc imagine #batman fanfiction #what is this crossover dont ask me aha #formula one fanfic #formula one x y/n #f1 x female reader

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fancyfeathers · 4 months ago

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Burn It All Down

(Yandere!Justice League & Yandere!Young Justice)

Based on Yandere!Justice League with their darling!children AU

Previous Chapter <- Chapter Two, Abracadabra -> Next Chapter

This chapter is told from the perspective of Giovanni Zatara’s Son!Reader (the brother of Zatanna Zatara)

Each chapter will be the perspective of the reader but as the different children since when I originally had this concept they were all darling/reader characters.

You never thought you would follow in your father's footsteps and practice the mystic arts, but things changed in the direction you expected your life to take. Being a traveling supernatural consultant was not so bad, the pay for the jobs was always good and seeing the world was pretty exciting, though it would terrify your sister, well, rather she was your step-sister, Zatanna, if she ever found out what you were doing for your job. In your letters and calls, you lied to her and told her you were studying abroad, but in reality, you needed to get away from it all, the truth behind your parents’ marriage. Now with your father being rather… occupied at the current moment, you had that space you needed to digest the truth.

You now find yourself in Paris after investigating a haunting at a home in Neuilly-sur-Seine, the couple paid well, that if you wanted to you would need to take another job for maybe a year. The last thing you honestly expected to happen in the course of your trip in the city of love and lights was a visit from a certain billionaire’s daughter while you were enjoying your day at a cafe here in the city. So you currently find yourself walking down the streets of the city alongside the daughter of the billionaire Bruce Wayne, otherwise known as the Batman, you would have been surprised on how she found you, but then again she was the daughter of the world’s best detective…

“So Paris, where is your next stop?” The lady beside you asked, she called herself Songbird, some sort of vigilante in the states after she left Gotham City.

“Don’t know, been wanting to visit Australia or maybe Brazil.” You responded to her as you two stopped at a street corner, you turning to look her in the eye. “So, what do you actually want? The whole thing with our parents, you said there were others like us, what does that mean?”

“Other runaways, or that’s what the Justice Leauge calls us-”

“I’m not a runaway.”

“Of course you're not, you just left home after your father put on the Helm of Fate to save your sister.” She spoke to you, looking completely straight faced even if she knew you were agitated at the fact that she called you a runaway. “Why is that? Did you find something out about your parents? Not so pretty is it?”

“Ya… I did.” You answered her question with a small amount of hesitation. You shoved your hands in the pockets of your long, dark red leather coat, your eyes coming down to look at your shoe-covered feet, uncomfortable to look at anyone in the eyes as your mind raced back to the thoughts of the memories of those days after your father was taken. “I found some old journals from my father when I was cleaning out some of his things and the things he wrote… the things he did…”

“I get it, trust me I do.” She responded, and you watched as she took out a small journal from her coat pocket, she flipped to a certain page before handing it to you, it was a list of names, the heroes and other names besides those that you did not recognize. “We have it a lot better than a lot of the names on this list, we have to help them.”

“What would you want me to do about it?”

“You were raised by a magic practitioner, you can do a locator spell, right?”

“What?!” Her question caught you off guard, it was not like you could not do a locator spell, it was the fact that in recent weeks, your magical abilities have become rather unpredictable, almost out of control in some circumstances. “Sorry, I just…”

“You just what?”

“Look, things have been off with me lately, I don’t know if I can manage a spell like that right now.” You admitted to the young lady, finally getting the courage to look her in the eyes. “My magic is dangerous right now…”

“Dangerous how?”

“It’s just behaving in ways it shouldn’t right now.”

“Look, there are people who need you right now, lost kids who have no idea what to do besides the fact that they don’t want to go back to where they were.” She looked you dead in the eye, and the way her eyes narrowed slightly as her lips pressed together tightly sent shivers down your spine. “Please, I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t a hundred percent necessary.”

“...Fine.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

You took your unexpected visitor to the house you were renting from a couple, a vacation home of sorts. You took her upstairs to what is the attic of the house, but while you were here, it was to be your makeshift study, old spellbooks and papers that you kept with you, laid in stacks around the room, artifacts that you carried during your travels, set down where you had the space. You took a small globe that you brought with you for this very spell.

“Give me that journal- actually hold it open for me.” You spoke as you tossed up the small globe and it stopped in midair as if it was an actually small planet, a small parlor trick Zatanna taught you when you two were little, a simple levitation spell. You watched her as she opened the book for you, flipping to the page with the names, you read the names over carefully, you needed to focus. You turned your head to stare at the globe, your eyes narrowing at the small ball. “Erif, kees tuo eseht tsol luos.” You could see the wonder on your new friend’s face as little red dots appeared on the globe as it spun around slowly. You glanced at her, smiling at your success with the spell. “I’ll list the names, you write them down.”

“Oh right.”

“Superman’s daughter is currently in Dallas, Texas. Flash’s daughter is in Pittsburgh- and so it is Wonder Woman’s son…”

“You think they are there together?”

“Most likely.” You suppose that made your job easier, but it was hard to say given that you would bet that the Flash’s daughter most likely inherited her father’s speed. “Aquaman’s son is in Vigo, Spain. Martian Manhunter’s daughter is in St. Louis, Missouri. Green Arrow’s kid is in the middle of nowhere in Montana, Yellowstone, I think. Green Lantern’s son is in San Diego, California…”

“What about Green Lantern’s daughter?”

“She's not here.”

“What is that supposed to mean?!”

“She could be of planet, in a different dimension, or… dead… but that second option is unlikely.”

“And the others are?!”

“I don’t know!” You heard a shatter as you yelled back at her, your eyes went wide and you turned your head to see the globe that you were just using had shattered in midair, another one of the out bursts you have been having lately. You sighed and knelt down to pick up the shattered pieces of the globe. “Look, that is all I can do right now, we have to work with what we’ve got.”

“Fine… sorry…”

“We should split this up between the two of us, I’ll take Aquaman’s son, Martian Manhunter’s daughter, and Green Arrow’s son.” You spoke, setting the shards of the broken globe on the small table beside you. “You take Superman’s daughter, Wonder Woman’s son, Flash’s daughter, and Green Lantern’s son.”

“Noted.”

“Then there is the where we should meet-”

“Don’t worry about that, I have that covered.”

“Alright Batgirl-”

“It’s Songbird.”

“Sorry.”

You sat in your bedroom, or the bedroom in the house you were staying. Songbird went off to stay at her own hotel, so you were alone for the night. You had the balcony doors open as you tossed around random items with your magic, testing the waters to see what would happen, if anything would go wrong.

“You’re up late.” You jumped when you heard a voice from the balcony where you left the doors open. You looked up and your heart stilled as you saw the face of none other than your sister, Zatanna, no doubt she wanted to surprise you, and what better way to do that than take the door no one expected.

“Zatanna! God, you scared me!” You took a deep breath as you stood up from the ground, as your sister reached out to hug you, embracing you in her arms. She finally let you go, and you tilt your head in curiosity. “What are you doing here?”

“Do I need an excuse to visit my little brother?”

“In this circumstance you do since your brother travels, what’s up?”

“Look… I know you have been lying about going to school abroad, I know you are doing supernatural work.”

“Zatanna-”

“Look, the things you are getting into are dangerous, someone may try and take advantage of you.”

“I’m fine, really.”

“You say that, but you haven’t come home since dad…” She sighed as her words trailed off, her hands coming to hold your own two. “Look, there are some very bad people who would use you to get to me or even-”

“Doctor Fate? Zatanna, you seriously cannot be defending him after what he has done.”

“But-”

“Dad is gone!” You yelled, your eyes squeezing shut as your hands slipped away from Zatanna. There was a stunned silence in the room, but as you opened your eyes you looked around to see objects floating around the room, a burst of your own magic triggered by your emotions no doubt. You sighed and snapped your fingers, all the items falling back into place. “... you should go.”

“That magic you just showed-”

“Zatanna.”

“That is dangerous-”

“Please leave, now.” You glared at her, clenching your fists to get the tension out of your body. “I won’t ask again.”

“Fine, but you need to figure this out or else I am going to figure it out for you.”

“Ya, whatever.”

You had just arrived in Vigo, Spain from the train. You had sent your bags of books and other things with Songbird, so she can give them back to you when you meet back up again in the states. You had a suitcase of clothes with you and a backpack full of your more important books that may be useful to you. You had headphones in as you rolled your suitcase out of the train station, it was just a quick walk to your hotel where you would be staying so there was no need to call a taxi or an Uber. But as you were walking, your mind caught onto something unusual, like a shift in presence, and the screaming and shouting you were hearing only added to your suspicion.

Especially when there was a car hurling in the air, headed straight towards you.

You quickly reacted, reaching out your hand, and you could feel the power surging through your arm, and you watched as your magic managed to stop the car in midair. You set it down and luckily there appeared to be no one inside the vehicle. You set your bags down near one of the trash cans on the sidewalk before you ran off to investigate the situation where everyone was running from. You could spot two figures standing, or rather slightly hovering over the ground, in the middle of the street, you recognized them both, one as Wotan, a sorcerer who your father had come into conflict with before, and then there was the other… Doctor Fate.

“Niatnoc siht retsnom!” You snapped your fingers after speaking the incantation and you watched as chains constructed of red magic stemming from you, latched onto Waton’s wrists and ankles, dragging him to the ground. You merely stood by after that as you watched Doctor Fate incapacitate the sorcerer, restraining him as well when your magic dissipated. You turned to go grab your bags, where you left them, and as you tossed your backpack over your shoulder you could feel a set of eyes staring at you. You sighed and turned around, knowing Doctor Fate was just behind you.

“You are the son of Zatara.”

“I am his step son, but yes, your current host body did raise me as his own.” You replied to the Lord of Order’s statement, your hands shoving themselves into your jacket. “I was the one who assisted you just now, there is someplace I need to be-”

“The magic you hold is rooted in chaos, cease your involvement with the mystical arts at once!” His statement caught you off guard, your eyes going wide in shock, is that really where your power was rooted in, chaos? That did not make sense, you were self-taught, you has no other power than what you learned or the little that your father taught you. Maybe you were exposed to something in your work? Maybe you had been cursed.

“Your host body may be the one I call my father, but you hold no control over me.” You rolled your eyes as you grabbed the handle of the suitcase, turning away from the Justice League member as you continued on your way to your hotel and then you would-

“My… my son.” You stopped in your tracks as you heard a familiar voice, where Doctor Fate just was. You could barely make yourself turn around to look at who stood there, and your heart was in your throat when you didn’t see that gold armor, but a man holding the Helm of Fate.

“...dad.” you could only choke out that one word as you saw your father standing before you, it was the first time you saw your father in five years. You knew Doctor Fate released him once a year for an hour for Zatanna, but you could never could make yourself go with her, it hurt too much. You could feel him wrap his arms around you, his lips planting a kiss to the top of your head.

“You have grown so much…” You could hear him speak as he held you close, both of your hearts pounding in your chests. “You look exactly like your mother.”

“...thank you.” He let you pull away but when you looked in his eyes you could see the pain behind them. “Doctor Fate released you to tell me to stop using my powers, didn’t he?”

“He did, and he is right.” Your father took your hands in his own, just like Zatanna did only a few nights ago. At first his presence felt safe, but now as your mind was remembering the truth you felt the need to put distance between the two of you, literally and physically. “There is so much for you in the world besides the mystic arts, I did not want to teach beyond the basics to protect you from putting yourself in danger.”

“Dad…”

“Go home, be with your mother and sister, go to college, go-”

“I can’t… I made someone a promise that I have to keep now, other people are depending on me… and I need to figure out what is wrong with me.”

“There is nothing wrong with you-”

“Clearly there is.” You cut him off, you have never cut your father off, even when you were an angsty teenager. “I have to go… I’m sorry.”

“Wait!” You could hear your father call out to you as you snapped your fingers, one moment you were standing on the street and the next you are in one of the alleyways of the city. You could not help but collapse to your knees, tears pouring down your face, you did not know if you could do this anymore…

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downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le · 3 months ago

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Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader) - Chapter 13

Always Been You (Dick Grayson x Reader)Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 3279 Warnings: death, violence, fighting, bloody wounds, angst, infuriatingly oblivious love interest, slowburn Spoilers: Young Justice Seasons 1-3 plot partially, but it ended in 2022 so catch up.

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

The moment Echidna wrapped her tail around Y/N, entrapping her completely, Dick knew this would only end one way.

'Y/N!' he cried out, scrambling for her in the centre of the courtyard, desperate to prevent the inevitable. Echidna was squeezing tighter, Y/N was getting paler, and he was still too far away.

Something snagged the back of his armoured back-plate, pulling him back so harshly he almost fell over.

'No, Grayson!' Calliope yelled at him.

'Let go of me!' Dick pulled and tugged to get himself free, desperation and fear spurring him on. 'Please! Let me go!'

That was when the first bolt of lightning struck down, striking the ground just in front of them. The impact sent broken bricks flying their way and Dick allowed Calliope to heave him behind one of the entrance pillars for protection.

As the bricks and dust settled, Dick and Calliope peaked out from behind the pillar to see the whole courtyard lighting up with lightning. So too was Y/N, burning bright as white fire. Echidna looked in pain as rubble crumbled down on her, as she tried to retract her tail from around Y/N. But it appeared she was sealed to Y/N.

Their fates were now entwined. No one was stopping it.

Dick made to run to her again, but again Calliope held him back at the wrist.

'Don't,' she said, but she wasn't looking at him. Calliope was looking up at her princess, her friend, and a set of tears ran down her cheeks like twin rivers. 'She has made her choice.'

Horrified and disbelieving, Dick turned back to find Y/N looking at him. Even through the light that encapsulated her body, her bright E/C eyes found him, and a grateful smile spread across her lips.

To Dick, she'd never looked more at peace.

Amidst the brightness, she mouthed a message. It was only three words, but they shot Dick straight through his heart, making him bleed with guilt and regret.

I love you.

She'd said it already to him that morning; hell, she'd said it everyday of their lives and he had been too blind and selfish to hear her. But he'd heard her this morning, as the rising sun haloed her in a saintly glow and she bared her heart to him. A heart he had been so careless with all these years.

And yet it had clicked only then what had been holding him back all these years from settling down with someone else. Dick's heart called to Y/N's in a way no one else could even start to compare.

He'd heard her this morning - finally - and he heard her now, and he felt his heart break just as Y/N completely gave in to the light and the giant bolt of lightning struck down upon Echidna.

Calliope pulled him back behind the pillar just as balconies and the roof came crashing down. Dick braced against the pillar, eyes closed as he felt dust and chaos swirl around him for what felt like eternity.

The funny thing about eternity, however, is that it is simultaneously ever-lasting and as short as a blink. Once silence settled on the courtyard, Dick dared to open his eyes. Immediately he looked to Calliope beside him. Her skin had a layer of dust on it, all over her face and arms, even her armour didn't shine so brightly anymore. She looked the most dishevelled Dick had ever seen her, but he doubted he looked much better.

He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, drawing her attention to him. He couldn't muster up his voice to ask if she was all right, so he just raised his eyebrows in a silent question. She nodded slowly, looking over him to check on him too.

Satisfied with her answer, Dick peaked out from behind the pillar finally to see sunlight beaming down on the demolished fountain, where a giant pile of rubble half-covered a motionless Echidna.

'Where's Y/N?' Dick asked finally breaking the room's silence, unable to find her amongst the carnage. He turned to Calliope to see if she could spot her. But Calliope had no answer, looking at the pile of rubble on the verge of tears again.

Fear struck Dick's body into moving as quick as he could, stumbling over the giant pieces of rubble that had fallen from the roof, scraping his hands and knees in the process but he didn't care. He had to find her, even if he knew what he would find.

As soon as he reached the giant rubble pile where Echidna lay lifeless, Dick reached for the first piece he could get his hands on and pushed it away. The next one he picked up was smaller, so he threw it as far away as he could with a painful grunt.

He repeated the process on his own, the only sound filling the courtyard being his laboured breaths. He heard more footsteps echoing behind him. He didn't turn around though, didn't waste a damn second on whoever showed up at the door. All that mattered was finding Y/N.

Piece after piece he ripped away, grunting and crying out with exertion and exhaustion. But he couldn't stop, he wouldn't, for she wouldn't.

He cried out as he sliced his hand on a sharp rock, but before he could keep going, someone grabbed his injured hand and wrapped it in cloth. He looked up to find it was the Queen of Themyscira herself treating him. Her touch was gentle and guiding, tying off the cloth with a soft tug before looking up at him, tears in her eyes.

For a moment, the two of them just stared at each other, their eyes mirroring one another's heartbreak. But then Queen Hippolyta bent down and picked up a rock and threw it away. Then another, and another. So Dick restarted his work too, moving rubble piece after rubble piece as quick as his tired and aching body would allow him to.

Dick didn't know how long he did this for, but his exhaustion wiped away at the sight of a hand, the palm facing upwards.

'Here,' he said to the Queen and the two of them started moving the rubble away from that area as quick as they could. The more rubble they removed, the more Y/N was revealed, and once her top half had been exposed, it was easy enough for Dick to pull her out from underneath the rest of the loose rubble.

Dick, exhausted, collapsed to his knees, Y/N carefully cradled in his arms. Her S/C skin was covered in nicks from the rubble and the fight, bruises blooming all over her exposed arms and legs. Her H/C hair was littered with dust and little rocks, and yet as Dick stared at her lifeless face, she looked as beautiful as she had always been.

'Y/N...' Dick whispered, hoping beyond hope there was still a chance for her. But when she didn't respond, angry and guilty tears finally fell from his eyes as he gently shook her, saying more firmly. 'Come on, Y/N. Wake up... please...'

His plead was only met with silence, and that's when he let out a bellow that echoed throughout the courtyard. The sound was all his anger, all his regret, all his love he never showed her unable to go anywhere but into thin air.

He bowed his head and pulled Y/N in tighter, one hand around her back, the other cradling her cheek as he rested his head atop hers. 'I'm sorry, Y/N,' he whispered in between sobs. 'I'm so sorry.'

He couldn't apologise more, for all he had done their whole lives was hurt her. Over and over again, he had missed the signs, had chosen to dismiss it all because of one reason or another. And even if this had always been her fate - to die saving her people - he at least could've given her what she deserved beforehand. A life full of love and laughter, not of death and pain, of suffering and loss, of fighting and hiding.

He'd never deserved Y/N, never deserved the kindness she brought to a room, the unwavering support she gave without expecting anything in return, the unconditional love she gave away for free. If she were alive still and they were both immortal, he would never deserve her still, even if he had forever to make it up to her.

He prayed to no gods for a second chance, because the only god he believed in was now gone.

Even so, he found himself pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of her head and whispering into her hair, 'I love you, Y/N. I've always loved you...'

A hand placed itself upon his shoulder, and Dick finally looked away from Y/N to find the Queen looking down at him, her cheeks also stricken with tears. 'We should take her to the infirmary,' Queen Hippolyta said, her demeanour oddly calm for someone who just lost their granddaughter. 'There she can be prepared for... a proper warrior's burial.'

Dick could tell it was taking all of the Queen's will not to fall apart, especially not in front of all her other warriors that, as Dick now noticed, surrounded the entire courtyard now. As Dick looked around, he noticed many crying or bowing their heads as a sign of respect. Many held each other as they grieved, and it suddenly struck Dick that he would have to tell Diana the news when he returned home, not to mention the rest of the team.

Dick never thought he'd feel the same pain and heartache he felt when Wally fazed out of existence. But he was feeling it now tenfold, and it threatened to tear him into nothing.

But the Queen was right, he couldn't hold Y/N here anymore. She deserved some privacy before her burial, and so he made to stand while holding Y/N, but a bright light sparked atop the large rubble pile, freezing him and everyone around him in place.

Unlike Y/N's light just before, he was transfixed by this light, unable and unwilling to look away from what emerged from the light.

It was a figure, feminine-looking based on the initial curves, but then it changed to small and petite, then again to be tall and muscular, all the while never having a definitive face. Dick felt a sense of deja vu as the muscular figure morphed into an old crone, then into someone truly familiar as the light stopped just above Dick, the Queen and Y/N.

To Dick's horror and confusion, the womanly figure looking down at him looked exactly like Y/N. Though she wore white flowing garments, gold armbands and bangles, and her H/C hair billowed out behind her on a wind Dick couldn't feel.

She smiled kindly down at him first, then directed her smile to the Queen. Without a word, Queen Hippolyta nodded graciously at the floating figure. 'Mother Aphrodite,' she said in a reverent manner, a tone Dick had never heard her speak with anyone before.

That being said, the Amazons around the courtyard immediately fell to one knee and bowed their heads as a sign of respect. Dick would've done the same had he not felt so numb and off-kilter.

Dumbly, he looked up at the goddess and said, 'You appeared in my dreams once. The night I came here... you wore her face then too.'

To his surprise, Aphrodite's smile dropped into a sad frown as her eyes landed on Y/N still being cradled in Dick's arms. 'I appear as someone's most loved one,' she answered simply. 'I do not look the same to all, even now.' She gestured to the rest of the room and Dick could only imagine who everyone saw in that moment.

A fresh wave of tears fell down his cheeks at what she implied. 'So you knew even before I did? In just one moment?'

Aphrodite nodded. 'I see all bonds of love, no matter how long it takes for the two connected to see it themselves.'

Sobs threatened to escape Dick, but he bit them down as he looked down at Y/N, brushed a loose strand of hair away from her peaceful face. 'I saw it too late,' he said as the tears kept flowing. 'It had always been there, I know that now. I just wish...' He wished for a lot of things, he just didn't know where to start, so he cut himself off.

'Doesn't matter now,' he said instead. 'She's gone. Forever.'

'Death is not the end of love,' Aphrodite interjected. 'Certainly not for your love story, Dick Grayson.'

Dick looked back up at the goddess confused. 'What do you mean?'

Aphrodite gave him a knowing smile before answering. 'Athena is not the Amazons' only mother, you know. They are also my children, and I say that it is not Y/N's time to pass on. Not when love as pure as yours awaits her.'

Dick doesn't comprehend what she said, and before he could ask what she meant, Aphrodite leaned down and pressed one finger to his heart. A spark of light bloomed on his chest where she touched, and a warm sensation sunk into him from it. She did the same for Y/N, placing her light over Y/N's heart.

'Your lives are now linked together,' Aphrodite said as she pulled away. 'Do not waste any more time, Dick Grayson. Swear it.'

'I swear it,' Dick said breathlessly, though he wasn't quite sure what was going on still.

'Good,' the goddess of love said, then disappeared into her light once more. Once her light had finally disappeared, Dick felt the slightest movement in his arms.

Heart racing, he looked down to see Y/N's fingers twitching, her eyebrows furrowing slightly.

'Y/N?' he said gently, holding his breath in case this was all a dream.

But her body felt warmer, and he saw the rise and fall in her chest as she finally opened her eyes with a huge gasp for air. She looked around wildly until her eyes finally met his, and with a hoarse voice she said, 'Dick?'

'Oh thank the gods,' Dick gasped out, pulling Y/N into a bone-crushing hug as more tears fell from his eyes, this time with joy and relief. 'You're alive!'

He could hear the cheering of the Amazons behind him, the happy sobs of the Queen somewhere nearby, but all he could focus on was Y/N's arms tightening around him, pulling him to her as much as he pulled her to him.

Once they pulled apart, Y/N's hand fell to his chest as she looked around at the damage around her. 'What happened?'

'You killed Echidna,' Dick said, eyes drifting to the large, lifeless body in front of them. 'But you... you sacrificed yourself to do so.'

'I...remember that,' Y/N said, closing her eyes as if replaying the moments in her head. 'I brought that bolt of lightning down on us, and I felt myself die... How am I alive?'

'Aphrodite saved you,' Dick answered. 'Brought you back to life.'

Y/N looked up at him shocked. 'Aphrodite? Are you sure?' Why?'

'Because...' Dick started, then found himself doing what he always did when it came to his feelings and close up. But he remembered his vow to Aphrodite, and she was right, it was time to stop wasting time.

Dick locked eyes with Y/N and they were pressed so close together he could feel her heart racing in time with his. 'Because our love story hasn't even begun yet,' he answered, which only made Y/N furrow her brows in confusion.

'Our love story?" she asked. 'I don't understand....'

Dick moved his hand from her cheek to cover her hand pressed on his chest. 'I love you Y/N. I have since the day we met, I think. I've just been too much of a coward to tell you and too much of an absolute idiot to see that you felt the same this entire time.'

Y/N looked up at him as if he placed the stars in the night sky, a mixture of hope and disbelief in her radiant E/C eyes.

'You... You love me?' she whispered, as if worried that if she spoke too loudly the fantasy would disappear on her.

But it was not a fantasy, and Dick wasn't going anywhere.

'I never knew it until I got here,' Dick started, 'but it's always been you. Always.'

With that, he leaned down as she leaned up and their lips locked in a kiss that had been building up for over a decade. It was the culmination of all they had been through together, all the tears and laughs they had shared, and a promise of what they still had left to love and learn about one another.

Dick's hand over hers fell back to her cheek to pull her even closer while her now free hand roamed up to rest on the nape of his neck, delving into the locks that laid there. The sensation was like nothing he'd ever felt before - a buzz of excitement radiated through him at her gentle, loving touch.

And when they finally pulled apart for air, they kept their foreheads touching like neither could bare being apart from the other. At least that was how Dick felt, but the smile on Y/N's face reassured him the feeling was mutual.

'You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that,' Y/N said breathlessly.

A pang of guilt went through Dick as he stroked her cheek. 'I'm sorry I made you wait so long. I'm such a fool.'

'Perhaps, but you're my fool,' Y/N said cheekily as she pulled him in for another mind-melting kiss. Dick thought in that moment he would never get over the wonderful sensation kissing her brought him, and he never wanted to.

When they pulled apart again, she said, looking at the crowds of Amazons cheering and hugging each other from the out skirts of the courtyard. 'We better get up. It's not everyday a goddess brings someone back from the dead.'

'Right.'

Dick helped Y/N to her feet and she was immediately embraced by her sobbing grandmother, which elicited a bigger round of cheers and clapping and clashing of swords in celebration.

Y/N quickly scrambled her way atop Echidna, and the room went silent as she raised her hand.

'Echidna's war is over!" she cried, and the crowd roared in celebration. They quietened again as she spoke once more. 'We have much cleaning up to do, and many of our sisters to formally send off into the afterlife,' she said more solemnly. 'This war is a dark time in our history, but that is all it is now: history. Let us build new homes, new lives, amidst this destruction. Let us celebrate the lives of our loved ones that we have lost. And let us grow stronger together from this ordeal. We are Amazons, and we have proven to the gods themselves that we are not to be reckoned with. Today we celebrate this victory as we aim to restore and improve our home.'

The crowd exploded in a cacophony of claps and cheers and clashing weapons, and amidst it all Y/N was looking down at Dick, the most gorgeous smile on her face. Dick clapped up at her, pride and love flowing out of every pore in him. He truly did not deserve the goddess that stood above him, but Aphrodite had given them a second chance, and he would spend every second of that chance making sure Y/N knew she was loved by him.

~~~

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