batilenima

[batilenima]

A very lazy sketch of jason being protective over his father. Aka cockblocking.

[batilenima]

I posted on Ao3! To be honest I'm not that proud of it, I tried to write something longer but, well, I couldn't 😓.

I'll share the link with you all for the people that want to read it! Also, don't expect too much of this, I'm still not quite confident about it.

[batilenima]

I love ur works!! Maybe i havent lurked that much around ur profile lol but do u mayhaps have an ao3 i can subscribe to? 🙏

Thank you! And to be honest, at this moment I'm trying to write a one-shot, but I still don't feel very confident about what I'm writing. The moment I publish it I'll let you all know! 🥲

[batilenima]

Bruce returns after three days missing in action.

He's bruised, bloodied, and silent when the League's zeta beam flares to life and deposits him in the Batcave. Alfred catches him as he stumbles, but Bruce pushes himself upright with a quiet grunt, waving off any help like he always does, he doesn't answer questions, doesn't explain why he didn't call, doesn't explain why his comm went dark.

He just says "I need to lie down" and walks off.

Tim's already moving.

He's been waiting, planning and preparing the nest two days ago when his instincts screamed something is wrong. Now Bruce is home, his father, and Tim doesn't even let Alfred lead Bruce to the infirmary. He wraps an arm around his waist and guides him away from the medical wing, his way.

The nest he's made is on one of the safer rooms beneath the manor: soft blankets, clean clothes, even a shirt of Bruce's that still smells like him from before he disappeared. When Bruce sinks into the nest without complaint, Tim exhales shakily, curling around him with careful reverence.

It should be over.

Until Jason storms in.

He looks exhausted, there's blood under his fingernails and dust in his hair. He must've come straight from his patrol, or from breaking a wall down in Blüdhaven trying to chase down a lead about Bruce's disappearance, but the second he sees Bruce (settled, quiet, vulnerable)in Tim's arms, his whole body tenses.

"You've gotta be kidding me"Jason growls.

Tim looks up, but doesn’t move "He needs rest"

Jason strides in,jaw tight, "Yeah, and I was out there tearing up every corner of the city looking for him, and you're here playing omega keeper?*

"I am keeping him" Tim says, voice low and dangerous now, the alpha in him rising "Where were you when he needed this?"

Jason laughs, a cold, humorless sound "You think this," he gestures at the nest "makes you special? You think he wants to be smothered like this?"

Bruce stirs weakly "Stop—"

But it's too late.

Tim's up on his knees, eyes narrowed "You weren't here, I felt it when he went missing, I knew. You were off playing lone wolf"

"and you think you're the only one who felt it?" Jason snaps, crossing the room "it should've been me with him, not you"

Their auras flare, the air practically crackles. Jason grabs Tim by the shirt front and yanks him close, Tim doesn't flinch, he bares his teeth. Alphas, both of them, ready to tear into each other, not out of hate, but out of love, out of guilt, out of desperation; because they both need Bruce, and Bruce is only one person.

"Stop" Bruce says again, quiet, firm.

And just like that, they do.

Tim exhales and looks away first, Jason lets go, fingers trembling, and steps back.

Bruce doesn't yell, he just reaches out, still wrapped in Tim's nest, hand extended toward both of them.

And they come.

Not because he ordered them, but because he's the anchor, the only thing that really keeps either of them grounded; the only thing that can pull them back from that ledge.

They settle down again. Both pressed close, both silently fuming but unwilling to let go, neither willing to give up him.

Bruce doesn't say anything else, he closes his eyes and rests his head against Tim's shoulder, his hand curled in Jason's shirt.

Neither of them moves.

And Alfred, quietly standing just outside the door, sighs into his hand and mutters "I'm getting too old for this"

[batilenima]

LMAO when ur bf can't fly

the low quality is killing me

[batilenima]

Reincarnation Au

The last of the crowd filters out, laughter lingers in the hallway, glasses clink somewhere behind them. The ballroom is nearly empty now, just faint music, half lit chandeliers, and two men in tuxedos standing near the tall windows, alone.

Bruce exhales slowly, one hand in his pocket, the other cradling a half empty glass of champagne. He doesn't drink it, just stares at the city lights beyond the glass.

Clark stands beside him, quiet, respectful. Close, but not crowding, always giving Bruce space he doesnt' know how to ask for.

"You don't really like these kinds of events, do you?" Clark says, voice low, like they're sharing a secret.

Bruce' lip curls slightly, not a smile, not yet "You'd think I would, being the one who throws half of them"

Clark hums "and yet you look like you want to vanish every time someone clinks a glass too loudly"

Bruce lets that sit between them for a moment, then glances sideways, studying him. Something softens, or maybe frays.

"you always watch me like that" he says, not accusing, not defensive. Just... curious.

Clark meets his eyes, doesn't flinch "Like what?"

"Like you know me" A pause, Bruce's voice drops. "Really know me"

Clark's breath hitches just slightly. Enough to betray him, if Bruce were really watching.

"I just..." Clark starts, then stops, tries again "You seem familiar, that's all"

Bruce turns to look at him fully now. His eyes narrow, thoughtful, not cold "Have we met before? Like, really met?"

Clark swallows down the truth like fire, the answer is Yes, in lives he barely survived without him.

But all he says is "Maybe. In a past life"

Bruce looks at him a second longer, something flickering behind his eyes; confusion, yes, it's something warmer too; recognition trying to take root.

He says nothing, just hands Clark the untouched champagne glass and walks away without looking back.

Clark holds the glass like it's precious, breakable.

And doesn't move until Bruce is gone.

[batilenima]

i love ur obsessive clark au but the fluff is just so 😭😭🤭🤭🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈👌👌😆😆👏👏🫶🏻🫶🏻😼😼😍😍😁😁💪💪🔥🔥🥰🥰

Thanks for liking it! To be honest lately I've been obsessed more with fluff so maybe that's what I'm going to write (I'll update the reincarnation au soon, I promise 🫵)

[batilenima]

The mission was done.

The enemy was subdued, the facility neutralized, and the intel secure, the Justice League stood scattered among broken tech and sparking wires, taking stock of damages.

But Batman didn't stop.

He stood at a console with one gloved hand gripping the edge too tightly, typing with the other. His shoulders were tense, his movements were sluggish, like his limbs weighed more than they should. But no one said anything.

No one, except Red Hood.

Jason had been watching from the shadows, helmet tucked under one arm, face drawn into a storm. He didn't like what he was seeing: pale skin, the faint tremor in Bruce's right leg, the too quiet wince when he shifted.

Bruce was bleeding somewhere under the armor. And hadn't slept in over 48 hours.

"Still playing stoic?" Jason asked, voice sharp as he walked over.

Bruce didn't look at him "System purge isn't complete. League data is exposed until—"

"you've been upright for two days, you're bleeding through your suit, and you reek of stress" Jason interrupted, now only a step behind "You're done"

"I said that I'm fine"

Jason's jaw locked. Then he calmly slipped his helmet back on "No, you're not"

Before Bruce could react, Red Hood grabbed him and threw him over his shoulder, like some grumpy, overworked sack of legendary vigilante.

"Jason" Bruce growled, voice cracking"Put me down"

"you can yell at me after you get eight hours of sleep, a transfusion, and something other than caffeine and guilt in your system"

Every member of the Justice League turned at the sight.

Batman, the Bat of Gotham, slung over the shoulder of Red Hood, being marched off the battlefield like a rebellious toddler.

"What—?" Flash blinked "Is that Red Hood...carrying Batman?"

"Is Batman letting him?" Green Lantern asked, baffled.

"No one lets Red Hood do anything" Canary muttered "He took him"

Superman stood off to the side, arms crossed and biting back a knowing smile, Diana raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Jason walked straight past the crowd, ignoring Bruce's half-hearted attempts to protest, ignoring the League's stunned expressions.

"he hasn't slept in two days" Red Hood muttered as he passed Clark "And he's got a bleeding wound under his side panel he thinks no one noticed"

"He works too hard" Clark said with a sad smile.

"Yeah, ge's going home before he collapses in front of all of you"

The jet hangar ramp hissed open as Jason disappeared inside with Bruce still slung over his shoulder like stubborn luggage.

Back in the field, the League stared at each other.

"…Do they know each other?" Flash asked slowly.

Zatanna blinked "They have to, no one touches Batman like that and lives"

"Are they… former partners? Lovers?" Green Lantern guessed.

Clark cleared his throat "Not exactly"

Diana gave a small smile "Something closer than that"

"What could be closer than—?"

"Family" Clark said softly.

[batilenima]

It's a pattern, one Clark can't unsee anymore.

Bruce goes still whenever Clark lifts something effortless: a collapsed wall, a flipped vehicle, hell, once it was just a warehouse door that had rusted shut, no comment, no shift in expression; but his body tells the truth: the tension in his jaw, the breath he holds, the eyes that follow Clark's arms for just a second too long.

At first, Clark says nothing.

Then he starts testing it.

Like carrying Bruce after a rough mission: slowly, deliberately. Letting Bruce feel how easy it is, "You're lighter than you look" Clark murmurs once, no reaction, except the way Bruce's ears turn slightly pink.

The next time it's during training. Bruce says "Don't hold back" So Clark doesn't, he pins him fast, firm, but careful, Bruce breathes harder than the effort calls for.

And Clark leans down, voice low.

"You stare every time I do this, you know"

Bruce blinks "Do what?"

Clark grins "Lift, bend things, manhandle you a little'

Bruce scoffs, looks away, but that flicker of red at his neck? Oh, he's absolutely flustered.

So Clark keeps going. Lifting Batmobiles just to 'check something', carrying Bruce even when he's perfectly capable of walking, pressing close during sparring, his voice a little too smooth when he says, "Want me to go easy, or…?"

And Bruce still doesn't say anything.

But he stops pulling away when Clark does it.

And sometimes? He even leans into it.

(I'm back? 👀)

[batilenima]

Bruce paced in tight, precise circles, the hem of his coat trailing behind him like a shadow with a mission. The League's latest decision (something about alien diplomacy and a naive PR campaign) had sent him straight into a controlled rage, his hands were clenched, his voice low and sharp, slicing through the air like a thrown batarang.

Clark watched from the couch, half reclined, arms folded across his chest as he tracked Bruce's movements with a look that was far too serene for the tension in the room, smile tugged at his mouth. A soft, fond, dangerous smile.

"You're not listening" Bruce snapped, cutting his words off mid rant as he turned to face him, his eyes narrowed.

"I am" Clark replied calmly "i'm listening to every word. I'm also watching the way you walk when you're angry. It's very… purposeful.”

Bruce blinked "What does that have to do with—"

"You're really pretty when you're angry" Clark said simply, like it was an unshakable truth, like Bruce had just declared the sky was blue.

Bruce stared at him, he opened his mouth, then closed it. His ears turned faintly pink.

"That is not a productive comment" he said tightly.

Clark tilted his head "It's very productive for me"

From behind the Batcomputer, Tim coughed to cover a laugh "He's got a point” he muttered.

Jason, passing through with a sandwich, didn't even pause "Scary and hot. Own it, B. You already know you're attractive"

Bruce didn't speak again for a full minute. He only turned back toward the monitors, his shoulders stiff and his jaw tight, but Clark noticed the faint blush that covered Bruce's neck and face.

[batilenima]

"Bruce, stop"

"No. You don't get to do this again, Clark—"

Bruce turns, posture sharp, half a step from vanishing into the Cave; and that's when Clark moves.

Two hands under Bruce's arms and suddenly he's in the air: feet dangling, trapped.

"What the hell are you doing!?"

"It's called a timeout" Clark says evenly "Since verbal warnings don't work on you"

"You're holding me like a child"

"You're acting like one"

Bruce struggles for a second, but Clark just adjusts his grip and lifts him a little higher.

"This isn't dignified" Bruce grits.

"It's not meant to be. It's meant to stop you from running"

"...I hate you" Bruce says muttering.

"I love you too, darling" Clark responds

Bruce goes still, not because he agrees; but because he hates how effective it is.

(One of the batkids saw this? Yes, they will tease Bruce for this? Probably, Jason was the one who told Clark that this worked? Well, maybe)

[batilenima]

Obsessive! Clark Au

He plays the long game.

Clark never demands, he offers: warmth, safety and stability.

And Bruce, left raw by absence, accepts it all with trembling hands.

Now, months in, Clark doesn't ask permission anymore.

He feeds Bruce by hand at breakfast, even when Alfred is watching. Brushes his fingers over Bruce's throat while he's reading reports, tands behind him during meetings, possessive in the way no one quite questions.

Because no one wants to admit what it looks like.

The Batkids watch. Quietly, uneasily.

They try to reach Bruce with soft invitations and casual visits; but he's distant now, always distracted, always already with someone.

And Clark?

Clark smiles when they leave.

Because they had their chance.

And now Bruce doesn't need them the way he used to.

He has Clark now.

Clark, who never left.

Clark, who always watched.

Clark, who knows just how to keep him.

(Well, you all can take this as the end. I'm thankful to all the people who read this short au/idea and I hope you all liked it!)

[batilenima]

Clark doesn't push. He never pushes.

Not this time.

He watches Bruce Wayne with the quiet reverence of someone staring at a ghost made real. A living man in the same body, well, almost. Different haircut, harder lines, more secrets in his smile, but the same mouth, the same frown, the same infuriatingly soft voice when he's tired and forgets to pretend.

Clark would know him anywhere.

The first time he saw Bruce at the gala, the world tilted, time caught in his throat. He nearly said his name (the real one) but caught himself, Bruce had looked right past him. Cordial, cool and unknowing.

Clark went home and didn't sleep for a week.

Now, he watches from the sidelines, through polite interviews, coincidental meetings, coffee shops he knows Bruce favors but never mentions why he's there. He never admits he already knows how Bruce takes his coffee, or that he recognizes that little twitch in his right hand when he's overstimulated.

He never says: "You used to hold my hand to steady yourself."

He just offers the sugar instead.

Clark doesn't ask if Bruce remembers.

Because he already knows the signs.

The way Bruce tenses when Clark says his name, the way he lingers, unthinking. The way he looks, like something deep inside him is starting to hum awake.

Bruce is dreaming, Clark can tell. The eyes are different, a little less sharp, a little more haunted.

He wants to say "I'm here."

He wants to say "I've missed you for centuries."

He wants to say "Come home."

But he doesn't.

Because he remembers the promise:

"If I forget, let me find you again on my own. Please."

So Clark waits.

And watches.

And every time Bruce says his name, even just "Mr. Kent" with that slightly confused tension behind it...

Clark lets himself hope.

Just a little more.

[batilenima]

It started with good intentions.

Clark had barely gotten the words out "He's been exhausted lately. Maybe we should all do something nice—" before Dick clapped his hands and declared "We're making breakfast for Bruce. Like a normal family"

Unfortunately "normal family" in this case meant a pack of overprotective and highly competitive alpha children trying to cook in the same space.

Tim was at the stove, flipping pancakes with a precision that looked suspiciously like he'd memorized Gordon Ramsay's movements.

Jason, in defiance, had taken the omelet station and was aggressively shredding cheese like it owed him money "we're not making delicate little crepes you idiot. Bruce needs protein. Muscle fuel.”

"I'm right here" Tim muttered.

"I know" Jason grinned.

Damian was trying to slice fruit, the problem was: every time he made a nice arrangement, someone bumped into the counter and the stack collapsed. His eye twitched "You are all incompetent. I could've made something better on my own"

"You say that while butchering strawberries like they insulted your honor" Dick teased, as he tried (and failed) to wrangle the waffle maker.

Clark stood at the fridge, blinking at a bottle of oat milk "wait, is Bruce lactose intolerant or just lactose annoyed?"

Jason: "Does it matter? We're making bacon anyway!"

Dick: "He doesn't eat pork! Tim, did you just set something on fire?!"

Tim: "It was one pancake and it was intentional! It's called caramelization!"

Damian: "You fools don't deserve to feed him"

Somewhere in the chaos, a bowl of whipped cream hit the floor, the blender made a sound that shouldn't be physically possible. Someone knocked into a stack of plates that Clark caught with super speed, only to accidentally snap the handle off the frying pan in the process.

Bruce, still half asleep in a hoodie and baggy pants stood at the kitchen door.

He blinked once.

Tim was holding a fire extinguisher, Jason had batter on his shirt, Damian was snarling in the corner, Dick had flour in his hair an Clark looked way too calm.

Bruce turned around and walked back out.

“I think I'm not that hungry"

-----

Twenty minutes later, Bruce was sitting at the dining room table, a blanket around his shoulders, sipping coffee Clark had brought him as a peace offering. A single, very burnt waffle sat on the plate in front of him.

Jason was sulking. Dick had his head in his hands. Damian kept mumbling about "culinary justice"

Alfred stepped into the kitchen doorway, surveyed the battlefield and declared in a very clipped tone:

"I am invoking emergency protocol 7: none of you are to touch the kitchen simultaneously again, I shall install a lock if I must"

Bruce smirked behind his mug "Next time just buy me a croissant"

[batilenima]

My Aus/ideas List!

Well, this is a list of the Aus I publish here 😸:

Obsessive Au (finished):

Obsessive! Clark AU 1

Obsessive! Clark AU 2

Obsessive! Clark AU 3

Obsessive! Clark AU 4

Obsessive! Clark AU 5

Obsessive! Clark AU 6

Obsessive! Clark AU 7

Reincarnation Au:

Reincarnation Au 1

Reincarnation Au 2

Reincarnation Au 3

Reincarnation Au 4

Reincarnation Au 5

Reincarnation Au 6

Batfamily Omegaverse Au:

Omegaverse Au 1

Omegaverse Au 2

Omegaverse Au 3

Omegaverse Au 4

Omegaverse Au 5

Omegaverse Au 6

Omegaverse Au 7

Omegaverse Au 8

[batilenima]

Bruce doesn't sleep after the gala.

Not well, anyway, the dream haunts him: crimson skies, cracked earth, the feeling of dying in the arms of a man, the name Clark on his tongue before he even remembers hearing it aloud.

He tells himself it's stress, he's had worse nightmares. But it lingers, like a bruise under the surface.

By the third night, he gives in.

He's still Bruce Wayne, he investigates what he doesn't understand.

So he shows up at the Daily Planet.

Publicly, it's a courtesy visit, philanthropy, press, whatever excuse Lucius wrote in, but privately? He needs to see Clark Kent again, to confirm that the pull between them wasn't just a trick of champagne and poor lighting.

He doesn't expect Clark to be waiting in the lobby when he arrives.

Not by chance. Not by luck. He's just there, patient, still.

Like he knew.

Bruce's voice is steady when he speaks "Mr. Kent"

Clark turns with a small, familiar smile "Mr. Wayne"

That smile, that voice. It lands differently now, feels like it echoes through him, like waking something buried from his inside.

Bruce stiffens "Did you know I'd come?"

Clark just shrugs, warm "I hoped"

He doesn't push. Doesn't ask questions, just waits in the same way he had at the gala, watching Bruce like he was seeing something he'd lost.

And Bruce, Bruce feels it again, that irrational sense that this man knows him better than anyone ever has.

They make small talk, surface level. But Clark watches him too closely, and Bruce knows he's giving too much away; finally, he mutters:

"You seemed familiar the other night, still do"

Clark's expression shifts, not smug, not startled. Just… quiet, almost sad.

"Some people just feel that way" he says gently "Even if you can’t remember why"

Bruce freezes.

He didnt' say anything about memory.

Clark's eyes flicker, just for a second, like he noticed; but then he looks away, lets it drop. No pressure, no demands.

Bruce hates how it disarms him.

And when Clark says "If you ever want to talk" Bruce almost says yes without thinking.

He doesn't, h walks away instead.

But that night, he dreams again, this time of two hands gripping each other across a battlefield. One bleeding, the other one glowing, and that same voice whispering:

"I waited for you to come back to me, because you always do"

Bruce wakes up gasping.

And still doesn't know why he's trembling when he whispers:

"Clark... Who are you?"

[batilenima]

Once again in your asks like a little raccoon in the trash don't mind me

But the resolution! To the Obsessive Clark AU! My heart! I loved it! It's just the right amount if "I knowwwww this is unhealthy but AGHHHHHH what do I have to lose" on Bruce’s part and I'm just- screaming into my pillow I love it

Your reincarnation au makes me what to add onto my overflowing wip list that screams at me everytime I don't open it like 'father please it hurts save me' except I keep adding to it... anyways- great work! I want to eat your aus! Have a fabulous day!

I really like to see you here 😸!

I'm glad that you like the way I'm developing the obsessive au, like, to be honest I really like this type of fics (only in fiction, if it happens in real life I'll be definitely scared 😰), and about the reincarnation au I think I'll definitely update it today 😝, so wait for it!