#batboys drabble

[pr1nceofg0tham]

little bird 𖥔 jason loves you, he just can’t say the words…

𖥔 pairing jason todd x gn!reader

𖥔 tw/genre hurt comfort kinda, fluff, est. relationship, sick fic, jason being sweet and self deprecating as per usual, reader is sick and in love, nods to a hallmark movie, inescapable longing and love for jason todd. unedited.

𖥔 w/c 1614

𖥔 a/n this is my first ever jason todd fic!! i've been wanting to start writing for him for a while now, and now that it's summer there is no excuse, i hope you like this fic as much as i liked writing it!

please please tell me how you felt about this one and if you have any ideas for future fics, i'm all ears!!! mwah mwah mwah!!

“I’m sorry you don’t feel good, little bird,” he tells you—voice gruff and unsure in its sweetness. 

Jason never feels right giving comfort; more at ease with violence and anger, but you’re too precious for anything but soft words and softer touches. He loves you, that much he’s sure of, but he lacks the confidence. 

You’re everything to him, the only thing that matters as much as his rage, and how can that be? You’re nothing but love, nothing but soft smiles and golden hour laughs. He feels as though he’s loved you forever, even though it’s only been a few months–He’s still keeping you hidden away, placed inside his chest cavity and locked up safe from his family… more than a secret, less than a lie. 

So far the relationship has been clumsy and quiet; Friday night movies and diner dates–it’s fragile in its newness, but the love is bright. Jason knows he loves you, has told you in his own awkward way, but the words won’t come. 

You’ve said them, out loud and honest, yet for some reason he can’t get them out of his mind; they’re in his head, in his hands, even in his eyes, but his tongue is a stubborn bastard. Instead of saying it he ties your shoes for you and makes you breakfast, reminds you to take your meds and drives the speed limit. Every action he takes is in service to you, every time he steps out for patrol it's to make the city safer for you, yet still he can’t get himself to confess. 

He wishes he could say it as easy as you do, they way your lips curl around the vowels and snap out the consonants. It’s so simple to you, you love him so you tell him, but Jason is a stranger in the realm of love, and the language still fits clunky in his mouth. 

This morning he cursed himself for not being able to say it, it was impossible to see you in your work clothes–done up and lovely–and have to say goodbye. The emotion flooded over him, sweeping him away in a sneaker wave of pure unadulterated poison. He’d been familiar with pain, knew the shape of it in his bones, yet the violence of the moment–of saying goodbye to you when he wasn’t ready–had been horrid. Still the words couldn’t come. 

And now you’re here in his apartment, bundled up in his shoddy sheets, sick as a dog and crying about nothing. 

You got caught in the rain, (unexpected in the Summer Gotham heat) and you were drenched before you made it around the block. Jason’s apartment was closer, and while it might not have been the best option on account of the broken thermostat and generally bad insulation, the thought of being soaked through and tired was better if your boyfriend was around. 

The cold came on fast, hitting you before he was even home from the library, a gnarly inescapable thing that riddled you unable to breathe. Jason found you with a red nose and glassy eyes, and suddenly all of Alfred’s lessons came barreling into focus. Before you could kiss him hello he had you in bed, wrapped in his silken sheets and a thermometer under your tongue. He’d been so sweet, making you soup and turning on the cheesiest movie he could find–one about a young girl moving back home and falling in love with a cowboy or something. 

You love him so much, this sweet man… You know it’s hard for him– to show affection without worrying it will be used against him or torn away–but still he tries, venturing into life with you with the bravery of a wounded soldier. Seeing him fuss over you… the way he pouts as he brings his lips to your forehead to feel if you have a fever, and his bright smile when he discovers you don’t… You love him, maybe that’s what brings the tears–the fact that you love this sweet boy, and he loves you even if he can’t say it. 

“Are you sure you’re okay? Why are you crying?” 

“I don’t know, Jay,” you tell him, “I think I just love you, y’know” 

“And that’s making you this sad?!” He doesn’t understand… Love’s supposed to be transcendent and happy, at least that's what people say. Yet, if you’re this sad when you think of him, he must be doing something wrong… He remembers that poisonous feeling of saying goodbye to you, is that what love is? Poison and tears and insecurity?

He thinks back to the first time he saw you: frostbitten and chilly from the winter air, you looked a little like you do now–red nosed and shivering–he fell into love like a skydive, terrified and gasping, but there you were: lovely and honest and everything he never knew he needed. He feels like that now, adrenaline filled and anxious. He just wants you to be okay, it kills him that you’re sick, that you’re crying over him instead of eating your soup. 

“No, baby, it’s making me happy…” you say, laughing through your gasping sobs. “I mean look at you, you’re so handsome and you’re taking care of me.” 

Jason laughs, sighing out a great gasp of relief. All he ever wants is to take care of you, to make sure you’re safe and happy. Still crying, you let him lead the spoon into your mouth, swallowing the broth slowly so as to not choke through your tears. He’s as patient as ever, using your hand to shovel more onto your utensil, feeding you bite after bite until the bowl is clean. 

You know he loves you. 

You can see it in how he looks at you, how his calloused hands graze softly against your skin, and the way his voice never raises. You know he loves you, and truthfully you don’t need him to say the words, just as long as he continues looking at you the way he is now–like you’re some lost treasure he just happened across. You hope he won’t be scared to say the words forever, but if he is you’ll take the looks and the soft touches… you’ll love him forever if it means he keeps looking at you the way he is now. 

“You sure, sweetheart?” He asks, still a little nervous. “I don’t want you to be lying to me just cause I’m tender hearted” The quick of his brow makes you giggle, nuzzling closer to the hand that wipes away your tears. 

“Of course, honey, I would never lie to you.” You tell him, and you mean it as sure as sunrise. 

His heart swells, stuttering in his chest as he watches your crumpled form, God he loves you. As if to prove it, he moves closer–moving your empty bowl to the side table and wrapping you in his arms. You’re close enough you can hear his heart, the familiar song lulling you with its quick rhythm. Jason feels bad, but he loves you like this: sweet and helpless, finding comfort in his hold when you could find it anywhere else. 

For a while you just lay there, chest to chest, neither of you truly paying attention to the movie but laughing at the corny parts all the same. Every once in a while he pulls away to give you a tissue or take your temperature, completing a list of steps that are only really obvious to him. He finally breaks the silence to say again, 

“I’m sorry you don’t feel good, little bird.” He says it is sweeter this time and quieter too, always earnest, your Jason.

“It’s okay, Jay, I’ve gone through worse.” You can feel him wince at your words, always sensitive to hearing about you hurting. He hates it, hates knowing that you’ve ever had any struggle–that there were moments where he couldn’t keep you safe, even if it's just because he didn’t know you yet. 

“I just hate to think of you in pain, baby,” He says, “Should only ever wear a smile.”He squeezes you tighter as he says this, and his accent gets looser, devolving back into that Gotham street kid he always was. 

You love him like this, cozy in his sweater and warm from your shared body heat. You love him, and you’d tell him everyday if it made him get closer to believing he deserves it. 

“Ah well, in sickness and in health and all that.” 

“Oh I didn’t know we took any vows,” He says, but his heart jumps and his hold on you gets tighter. 

“I love you honey,” you say. Honest and true, matter of fact. It’s a little out of place disjointed to the current conversation–there is no humor in your voice or in your eyes when they meet him– but it's true, and you promised him you’d always be honest. You love him, you would never joke about that. 

Jason thinks about all the times he wanted to say it back… All the times the words almost emerged and enveloped you, he wishes he could say it. Wish he could wrap you up in the phrase and not be afraid, but it’s still too harrowing. It doesn’t have anything to do with you, yet you’re the one that’s paying–that breaks his heart. He loves you so much, even if he can’t say the words… even if all he can do is make you soup and tuck you in at night, and make sure the world is safer for you. He loves you, and he tells you the best way he can. 

“Me too, little bird, me too.”

[axstoria]

Bruce Wayne kisses like you're the last thread of sanity holding him to this world. He'll cradle your face in his hands, lips making long, languidly slow movements over your own. By the end of it, you're pushed against some kind of furniture and panting, while he's already leaving to pull on his cowl. It hurts to see him go, yet you know that he'll be home again to kiss you senseless until the world makes sense.

Richard Grayson kisses like he'll be dead tomorrow. Little pecks along your cheek, forehead, neck—anywhere he can get those plush lips on. He'll kiss you until you're both breathless, chests heaving and faces flushed. He'll love you until the day he dies, and he makes sure that you know that. Every day, he spends like it's his last, and every day, he makes sure to give you so many kisses, you're drowning in his love.

Jason Todd kisses like he doesn't know how. Sure, he's had a few hookups, especially during his early days as Red Hood, but he's never kissed a person like you. He loves you, it's as simple as that. With others, he is rough and fast, not knowing how to slow down and just enjoy the presence of the person beneath him. With you, all he can do is be gentle, because you're the only person who has stayed and loved him as the broken man he is.

Tim Drake kisses you like he's trying to study you. He'll nip at your neck and jaw just to see how you react, just to grin to himself as he observes the way you melt into him when his lips meet yours. He'll let his hands wander to see what makes you relax, what makes your lips stutter against his. He enjoys every interaction like you are his subject and he is the scientist. He needs to know everything. Knowledge calls for him in his blood, and you, his love, are the doorway to it.

AgedUp!Damian Wayne kisses expensively. He starts at your jaw, making soft motions towards your lips until he finally claims them with his own. His wide hands hold you in place by the waist and his dark hair tickles your skin. He'll take his time, loving on you the way you deserve. He knows just how to kiss you like he knows just how to kill a man. He kisses soft and slow, because why would he have to rush? He has his beloved in his arms, whispering his name against his lips; what more could he want?

[uramakimochi]

Batboys scenario:

YOU LOOSE CONTROL OF YOUR POWERS WHILE SLEEPING.

WARNINGS: Just fluff, no use of Y/N. Inspired by this thought of mine. R can fly but it's not explicitly said whether they're a Super/Kent or an alien. This should be gender neutral enough for everyone^^

English is not my first language so feel free to correct me.

BRUCE

Bruce entered the room with a yawn that he tried to cover with his hand, while slowly rotating his neck and chest to make his bones crack loudly.

The only thing he wanted to do was get into bed with you, hold you close and sleep forever. But he knew that all the love and devotion he felt for you would never be enough to free him from his duties as a vigilante, so the only thing he could do was enjoy to the fullest those moments that life allowed him to spend with you. One of which was a good rest together.

Bruce loved sleeping with you. There was no better feeling for him than coming home late after a patrol and hiding under the covers, wrapping his mighty arms around you and pulling you against his sturdy body, falling asleep lulled by your body heat.

But before he could already imagine how he would spend a beautiful night next to you, he had to stop on the threshold of the door when his eyes fell on the double bed. Or rather, who was above of it.

Because yes, you were there, exactly where he expected to find you, but you were not on the bed. You were literally floating above it, like a bee on a flower.

Bruce smiled amusedly, because honestly that was nothing new. That was something that often happened when you were asleep: entering the world of dreams was as if your powers merged with them and not being able to control them of your own will, sometimes you happened to rise into the air in the middle of the night. Sometimes you slipped away from Bruce's arms, but other times you even took him up with you.

But Bruce didn't care, he was used to it. And he would never blame you because that was just who you were. And he would always love you, for every virtue and every flaw.

So he approached you silently until he was at your side. Meanwhile, you continued to float above his head as if nothing had happened, clutching the pillow under one arm and your eyelids fluttering every now and then, surely because of the dream you were living in your mind.

"Sweetheart" he murmured softly, reaching up to gently pull the blanket that covered your body and that was floating with you. "Wake up my love"

After a few seconds you squinted and then finally opened your eyes in the darkness.

"Mhh" you moaned and your eyes landed on your husband's face. "Bruce... Hi, what is it?"

Bruce smiled comfortingly, moving his hand to your arm.

"Forgive me, i didn't mean to disturb you" he replied, running his warm palm back and forth along your arm. "You're floating again"

It was at that moment that despite your tiredness you realized how low his face was compared to yours and you pressed your lips together. "Oh..."

Your body slowly returned down to rest on the soft mattress and you adjusted your position to cover yourself, finally looking at your husband from below, as it was supposed to be.

"Thank you" you gave him an embarrassed smile. "Sorry"

He leaned down to kiss your forehead and then walked around the bed to his side, sitting on the edge to take off his shoes and lie down under the covers.

"You have nothing to apologize for, i always tell you that" he reassured you as he lay down and you wasted no time in snuggling into his side. "You know i don't really care if you sleep mid air. I'd just prefer to fall sleep with you in my arms sometimes"

"I know, but i hate when it happens" you replied with a small pout.

You felt his strong arm wrap around your shoulders to hold you close and you closed your eyes, resting your head on his bicep, ready to go back to sleep. "Because i like falling asleep in your arms too"

Bruce smiled again, tilting his head to kiss your forehead one more time and watched you fall asleep again within minutes, lulled by his warmth and his sweet caresses that you had missed that night.

"I know my love"

DICK

Dick was the most affectionate of the boys and this meant that at every opportunity he would stick to you like a mussel and he wasn't afraid to show it. Whether it was for a simple nap together, when you were cooking or cleaning the house, while he was watching tv with you, in the shower, when you went out... You name it. He was always glued to you. And during the night he was no exception.

Even when the temperatures were the highest he would close his arms around your body and hold you to his chest as if you were a stuffed animal that comforted him from his nightmares. And you, somehow, always managed to fall asleep, no matter how glued he was to you.

But Dick was like that and there were just a few times that you told him to let go because that was just the way he showed his affection and you appreciated him for it.

And the fact that your boyfriend was clingy meant that whatever happened to you... Well, he was there to suffer it too.

Specifically, i'm talking about when your superpowers got out of control and while that almost never happened when you were awake, the same couldn't be said for when you were asleep. Because when you were dreaming it was like your body and mind were letting go and often it happened that without realizing it you found yourself floating in the middle of the night.

Now, Dick was used to your powers and all, but the first time he witnessed your 'sleepwalking flight' he felt a little taken aback. But he remembers it like it was yesterday.

Imagine the scene.

You and Dick were fast asleep (he was even snoring and almost drooling on your head) and of course his strong arms were around your body from behind you, holding you to his chest in a firm warm and affectionate hug even in your sleep.

At a certain point however, he had to open his eyes, awakened by that horrible feeling of a dry throat that screamed at him to get a fresh glass of water to quench his thirst. So Dick rubbed a hand over his eyes to wake up and reluctantly let go of your body to turn on the other side and get out of bed. But when he stretched his legs towards the floor...

Dick's eyes widened and he felt like his breath was taken away for a fraction of a second when he realized he wasn't lying on his soft bed but floating right above it, blanket included.

"Oh fuc- Woahh!"

And before he could react, he fell down with a cry. Luckily his fall was softened by the bed itself, but that didn't stop him from rolling onto the floor with a heavy thud. That and his scream were enough to wake you up too and after you woke up with a start, abruptly interrupting your dream, you fell too but your trajectory allowed you to land on the matress unlike your boyfriend.

Dick still sitting on the floor, groaned in pain and then he sharply turned to you.

"Baby!" he exclaimed in surprise. "What was that??"

The lamp on your nightstand turned on and then he heard you get off the bed and walk quickly to his side and then he saw you crouch down in front of him.

"Oh my god Dickie i'm so sorry!" you looked at him worriedly, placing one hand on his cheek and the other on his head, making him tilt it to see if there were any bruises. "Are you hurt??"

Dick waved a hand with a small, pained smile. "Nah, i'm fine. I've been through worse. Just... What just happened?"

You let out a small sigh and let yourself fall backwards, sitting on the floor. "My powers. It happens to me sometimes when i'm sleeping, especially when i'm having particularly weird dreams or nightmares. My parents told me i've been doing it since i was little"

He nodded in understanding. "Oh. I see"

You looked down, feeling sorry and embarrassed by what had happened.

"Forgive me, i forgot to tell you. I didn't mean for you to get hurt, honey. Are you sure you're really okay?"

Dick nodded again, forgetting the pain to give you his classic dazzling smile. "It's okay, sweetheart, really. These are things i have to get used to if i want to be with someone with superpowers"

And you giggled fondly, leaning forward to give him a couple of affectionate kisses on the temple.

"I guess that's the price you have to pay for clinging to me all the time, huh?" you murmured against his skin and he placed his hands on your waist to keep you close to him.

"I guess it is"

JASON

Jason was big and bulky but he was a light sleeper and since he was also very protective of you, he was always alert in case something happened during the night.

In fact, the slow movement of his arm that was rising against his will was enough to disturb him from his sleep. Jason opened his eyes but did not worry about being possessed by some strange demon. He sighed when he saw what was happening next to him. Or rather, above him.

"Babyyy" he moaned with a heavy yawn, but he received no response from you who were still sound asleep.

Immediately the hand of his arm that was rising and sliding from its position around your back, reached out to grab your wrist before you could rise too high for him to reach while still lying down. When you felt his warm palm touch you, you woke up too and when you opened your eyes you saw Jason dragging you down towards him, making you return to his side in the same place where you had fallen asleep a few hours ago.

"Where did you think you were going mh?" your boyfriend asked, his voice still thick with sleep, wrapping his muscular arm around your back (again) and pulling you close.

"Sorry" you muttered slightly embarrassed in the darkness of the room, snuggling against his shoulder.

It wasn't that you were new to floating during the night, but it wasn't something you were always proud of in his presence.

"'S okay" he replied, tilting his head to nuzzle yours and plant a kiss on it, while he closed his eyes, ready to go back to sleep. "But if you want to go for a fly, at least let's do it together"

And you smiled, closing your eyes as well while your hand automatically went to rest on his chest.

"Sure"

TIM

Tim wasn't known for being a big sleeper. And you hated more than anything to be the one ruining the few hours of sleep he could afford, disturbing him with your powers when you started floating in the middle of the night without your control.

But Tim was a sweet soul and he always reassured you by telling you that it was not a bother for him if he slept in the air rather than on the bed. He would sleep anywhere, even on the floor and even for just five minutes, just to be with you.

"Are you really sure it's not a problem for you?" you asked again, looking at your boyfriend with uncertain eyes.

Tim lifted his head from your chest, returning your gaze with a sleepy one, already half asleep mostly thanks to the effect of your hand caressing his hair, while the other was resting on his back.

His arms dangled in the air falling on both sides of your body, while his legs remained comfortably resting on yours. Luckily Tim, even though he was well trained, didn't have a body as large as Jason or Bruce, otherwise he would have fallen to the ground.

"Babe" he replied and his exasperated look gave way to a slight smile. "For the umpteenth time, yes. It's not a problem"

"But what if you move and fall to the floor? Or what if I move and make you fall to the floor?"

"We're not that high up" Tim sighed, glancing at the bed below you and then looking back at you. "You're talking to Red Robin, if i fall i can handle it"

"But-"

Tim shushed you by leaning in to give you a small kiss on the lips and of course you returned it, letting yourself go and forgetting your worries for a few seconds, while your hand in his hair slid down to his cheek.

"No more 'buts'. I promise you nothing will happen" he continued when he pulled away. "And you know i don't sleep much anyway, so if i were to fall i'd notice"

"Hmm" you muttered still uncertain. "Okay... If you're sure"

Tim gave you a smile and settled more comfortably, resting his head back on your chest and closing his eyes. One of your hands caressed his back with your fingertips and you rested your chin on his hair.

"But please, wake me up if something happens" you added and you felt him nod slowly against you.

"Mh, will do. 'Night babe"

"Goodnight Timmy"

DAMIAN

You and Damian were sleeping peacefully in your bed, him in front of you with an arm on your shoulders pulling you against his body and your arms tightly wrapped around his slim waist, while one of your legs was trapped between his.

Damian had fallen asleep lulled by your breaths against his collarbone, but like Jason he was always alert during sleep, no matter what time it was. In fact, when he suddenly felt your bodies start to rise in the air he slowly opened his eyes but he didn't panic or get scared, knowing perfectly well what was happening. And above all who was making it happen.

Damian laid his eyes on you with a loving gaze, admiring you despite the darkness. He found it funny that despite your intertwined bodies were literally floating a couple of meters away from the bed, you continued to sleep deeply as if nothing had happened. He even saw your lips curve upwards and he also smiled tenderly in turn, wondering who knows what you were dreaming of to smile like that.

Damian then noticed that you and him were getting closer and closer to the ceiling as you floated upwards. But before your head or his could hit it, he raised an arm to rest his hand against the ceiling, stopping the movement in mid-air. The other hand that was on your shoulders instead, slid up until it reached your head, covering it with his palm in a protective way.

Oh if you had been awake to see it your heart would have fluttered with joy and Damian knew that too. He cared for you in every way, both with the little things and the more heroic ones, as he had learned in his life as Robin.

Due to the impact of his palm against the ceiling it was as if your body bounced like a balloon and went back down, continuing to drag Damian with you until you finally stopped in mid-air. He reached out to your face to stroke your forehead with his thumb.

"Beloved" he murmured.

Just hearing him call your name once, accompanied by the lovely feeling of his finger rubbing against your skin, woke you up. You squeezed your eyes and then opened them, looking at your boyfriend with the typical expression of a child just disturbed from his nap.

"Mmh, what is it Dami?"

Damian gave you a smile while continuing to caress you, while you felt your eyelids still drooping from tiredness.

"You're doing it again" he simply said.

There was silence for a few seconds. And then without saying anything both of your bodies began to descend, until you gently rested on the bed again. Damian felt you wiggle in his arms while you tried to get comfortable against him and even closer if possible, looking for his body heat.

"Sorry" you muttered, pressing your face into the hollow between his neck and shoulder. "I promise i won't do it again... 'Swear..."

And a few seconds later your breathing against his skin became heavier. You had fallen asleep again, without any difficulty.

Damian's emerald eyes looked at you amused while his hand found its favorite place on the back of your head, his fingers caressing you affectionately. Because that wasn't the first time you told him you wouldn't do it again and he knew it wouldn't be the last either.

"I count on it beloved"

DUKE (i added him too because i felt bad leaving him out😔)

The alarm clock on his nightstand went off and he reached out to turn it off. When Duke opened his eyes and turned to you with a sleepy smile, he thought he would find your angelic still sleeping face to greet him. But his eyebrows furrowed slightly as he noticed that you were not on your side of the bed.

"Uh... Weird" he thought.

Because he was usually the first one of you to wake up and it always took him a good few minutes to get you out of bed. Could that be the first time you had gotten up before him and had already made breakfast? Was it perhaps a special day?

Duke smiled amusedly, but then he noticed another detail. Your pillow was in its right place, but the large blanket you shared was gone.

"That's why i was cold last night..." the man muttered, after realizing that he had spent the rest of the night without a blanket. But why?

A familiar yawn from above his head caught his attention and Duke looked up. And when he saw your body floating above the bed, his heart skipped a beat.

You stirred, awakened by your boyfriend's alarm clock and the famous missing large blanket slipped from your body, falling onto the bed beneath you. You then turned to look down at him with a sweet, innocent smile.

"Good morning"

Duke let out a small, scared cry and jumped up from the bed. "L-Love! What are you doing up there!?"

You looked at him in confusion and lowered your head, finally noticing the distance from your side of the bed. "Oh... Oh crap!"

With his heart still pounding, Duke watched you calmly slide down until you were back on the ground. You then gave him an embarrassed smile.

"Um, surprise?"

Duke walked over to you and placed a hand on your shoulder.

"Are you okay??" he asked still scared, looking you up and down. "I thought you were... Possessed or something!"

You chuckled, waving a hand. "What are you talking about, Duke? It was just my powers"

He seemed to relax. He knew about your powers, but he never expected to see something like that.

"Oh..." then he sighed in relief. "Thank goodness. It was unexpected, you almost gave me a heart attack"

You gave him a sorry smile, taking his hand to comfort him.

"I'm sorry, i didn't mean to scare you. I completely forgot to tell you that sometimes while i sleep i lose control of my powers and start flying. It's been happening to me since i was little. Imagine what would happen if i slept in the open air"

He also finally laughed and he hugged you and you felt his body relax under your palms.

"How about i make breakfast to make up for it, mh?" you then asked and he nodded with a big smile.

"I'd really like that"

[fromdove]

“you’re bleeding on my bath mat.”

“technically,” dick says, biting back a wince, “we bought that bath mat.”

you glare at him. he’s sitting shirtless on the closed toilet lid like it’s a throne, hair damp with sweat and blood, black suit unzipped and pooling around his waist. his lip is split, knuckles scraped, and he’s got the nerve to be smiling.

“that doesn’t make it better.”

“no, but it makes it ours.”

you mutter something unflattering under your breath as you kneel beside him with the first-aid kit. “what happened?”

“some guy had a knife.”

“and you didn’t?”

“i had... optimism.”

“idiot,” you sigh, tilting his face toward the light. the cut on his cheekbone is shallow but angry. he winces anyway. you try not to think about how pretty he still looks like this, bloodied and cocky, grinning like he won a prizefight instead of nearly getting gutted in an alley.

“you worry too much,” he murmurs.

“you bleed too much.”

“fair point.”

he stays still as you clean the wound, but his eyes never leave your face. there’s a softness there that doesn’t match the bruises. like he’s memorizing your every frown. every sigh.

“you gonna kiss it better?” he asks, voice low and teasing.

“i’m gonna disinfect it,” you reply, deadpan. “if you’re lucky.”

he groans when the antiseptic hits, the sound dramatic enough to make you pause.

“you’re the worst nurse,” he complains, slouching dramatically. “i came here for comfort.”

“you came here for sympathy and post-fight cuddles.”

“and pancakes.”

“you’re not getting pancakes.”

“...you’re so mean to me.”

you set the bottle down and look at him. his lashes are dark and damp, his lip swollen, cheekbone starting to swell. and still—he looks at you like you’re gravity.

“you’re lucky i like you,” you say, softening despite yourself.

“you love me.”

you lean in, slow and careful, and kiss the corner of his mouth—right where it doesn’t hurt. he exhales against your lips like he’s been holding his breath since he climbed through your window. your hands find his jaw, cradling him gently. his own fingers twitch like he wants to touch you back, but he doesn’t move.

“you’re bleeding on me,” you whisper when you pull back.

“technically,” dick grins, lips brushing yours again, “we’re even now.”

and then he kisses you properly—bruised mouth and all.

[fear-is-truth]

you always knew your boyfriend was good-looking. that was never the problem. it’s just… sometimes, sitting across from JASON in public, it starts to feel feel like a cosmic mix-up, like you’ve wandered into a life meant for someone else. the girls sitting two booths over doesn’t help either. they’re giggling behind french-tipped hands, three pairs of eyes glued to jason as if he’s something decadent on the menu—something they’re hoping gets delivered to their table instead.

“he’s so hot,” one of them says, not even trying to be subtle. “oh my god, look at those biceps.” of course they’re looking at him. he’s beautiful. jason’s got the kind of face that makes everyone go stupid, and a body to match. throat dry, you drop your gaze to see that the ice in your drink have long melted, the straw squeaking against the bottom as you sip at nothing. the sound is thin and papery, an admission of your own awkwardness. jason stands, reaching for his jacket.

“you good?”

“yeah. just a bit tired, is all.” the skeptical look on his face tells you that he doesn’t believe a word of it. but instead of calling you out, he drapes the heavy leather over your shoulders.

you hadn’t even noticed the chill until it was gone.

outside, jason walks beside you, close enough that your arms might touch, but they don’t. usually, you don’t mind the space. it isn’t until you’ve made it halfway down the block that he finally says, “you’re doing that thing again.” there’s no rom-com script to fall back on. so instead of a coy what thing? you reply, “i’m fine. just…” your eyes drift to an oddly shaped crack on the pavement. “sometimes i think you could do better. that’s all.”

his frown deepens—not in irritation, not even exasperation. just tired. it pains him to hear it, because it’s not the first time you’ve said something like this. “unless you think i’ve got bad taste,” he deadpans, “i’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk shit about someone i care about.” then, his arms are around you—bridging that small but seemingly infinite space. one hand settles at the small of your back, the other gently cups the back of your head. a gesture he’s done a hundred times, but still means it every time.“i’m yours,” he murmurs into your hair. “you get that or no?”

and just like that, your chest doesn’t ache the same way it did.

꣑ৎ ‎ :‎ masterlist﹒꒱ requested by the lovely @soulsforsales

[superbat-love]

Batman may claim to have no powers, but Green Lantern knows better. He’s convinced that Batman’s cape is sentient.

Green Lantern has observed it on quiet nights in the Watchtower, when Batman thinks no one’s paying attention. He releases control over his cape, letting it unravel and float menacingly around him in different directions. It moves on its own, sweeping across nearby surfaces, carelessly knocking over items.

There’s one thing Green Lantern knows for sure—Batman’s cape has a sweet tooth. Every time Batman passes the candy bowl, it’s mysteriously emptied.

Even stranger, it seems to influence other capes. Once, while Batman was talking to Superman, their capes briefly touched, and Green Lantern saw Superman’s cape come to life—swirling and fluttering as though it had a mind of its own. Superman, unfazed, didn’t even react to the way their capes were flapping erratically around them. Green Lantern was relieved he didn’t have a cape.

He told the others about his theory, but they were skeptical at first. They eyed Batman’s cape with suspicion as he was distracted by a mission briefing with Wonder Woman. But even the Flash had to admit Green Lantern might be onto something when Batman’s cape swiped their feet out from under them, sending them both tumbling to the floor.

Martian Manhunter nodded sagely and agreed on its intelligence, having felt the minds of four little beings flitting around underneath Batman’s cape. Maybe one day they’d feel comfortable enough to run underneath his cape too.

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

"DAD!"

Bruce sighed at the familiar call, instantly recognizing the voice. It was you, the child he never intended to have, thrust into his life by forces beyond his control. He still wasn't ready for this—wasn't ready to be a father.

In the early days, you’d tried calling him "father" or "dad," hoping for a connection. But he’d ignore you every time, barely acknowledging the title. Frustrated, you’d started calling him "Mr. Wayne" out of spite. And to your surprise, he responded. Since then, you'd settled into calling him as if he were just another public figure, like some distant acquaintance. You learned quickly that Bruce Wayne didn't want to be publicly labeled as your father, that he wasn’t comfortable with the label at all.

But now, hearing that word—"Dad"—from you in public, his irritation rose. He’d told you ages ago not to call him that outside the manor. Yet, there was also a sliver of satisfaction; he finally had a reason to confront you over it, something he’d oddly wanted since you’d moved in.

Turning around to find you, Bruce stopped short. There you were, arms around Harvey Dent, laughing in a way that sent a pang through him. It was the kind of bright, easy laughter he’d never heard from you in his presence. The warmth in your eyes, the carefree lightness in your smile—it all seemed reserved for Dent, a scene that felt oddly father-child-like.

His grip tightened unconsciously, fingers curling around the grass he’d been holding. Harvey looked back at you with an almost fatherly pride, and it stung in a way Bruce couldn’t have anticipated. In that moment, the crowd faded around him, and all he could focus on was the two of you, bonded in a way he hadn’t managed to be with you.

Your laughter rang in his ears like a melody he’d never noticed before, something beautiful and elusive. And for the first time, Bruce felt something new—a desire to be the one to make you laugh like that, a yearning to hear it directed at him. He wanted all of it for himself.

Bruce’s hands clenched involuntarily, his fingers digging into his palms. He told himself that he was better than Dent in every way that mattered—stronger, more capable, more disciplined. But in this, seeing how effortlessly Dent could make you feel safe and valued, he felt an unsettling flicker of doubt. Bruce could face any enemy, any challenge, but standing here, watching someone else make you feel what he couldn’t, he felt almost... inadequate.

The feeling was absurd. Jealousy wasn’t supposed to affect him; he’d trained himself to be above such things. But he couldn’t stop the bitterness gnawing at him as he watched Dent with you, a man whose easy warmth contrasted so painfully with Bruce’s own guarded nature. It stung to realize that, for all his power and reputation, he was losing you to his own friend. Dent looked at you with pride and affection, the kind that came naturally to him—and Bruce hated that Dent could offer you what he hadn’t even known you needed.

And then, through the murmur of the crowd, your voice rang out again—“Dad!”—directed at Dent, not him. Something twisted painfully in Bruce’s chest, his vision blurring as he watched you lean into Dent’s embrace, trusting and relaxed. The sight was a punch to his pride, yes, but more than that, it was a revelation of all he’d pushed away, all the moments he’d let slip by because he hadn’t wanted to be vulnerable.

For the first time, Bruce felt an unfamiliar desperation creep in, a fear he’d never faced even in the darkest moments of his life. Losing you to Dent seemed almost absurd, yet it was becoming a reality before his eyes. He was starting to see the damage his own indifference had caused, each unspoken word and dismissed gesture now cutting him deeper than he would ever admit aloud.

If only he’d turned around that first time you called him "Dada." If only he’d been there, shown you warmth instead of distance. Now someone else was in the place he’d abandoned, and he feared—truly feared—that you were already too far out of his reach to bring back.

(A/n: feel free to use this idea to make a story! Though you needa tag me too😼)

[juicykvnture]

LOVEDRUG

JasonTodd x fem!Reader

tags: AFAB reader, established relationship, drug use, intox (dubcon), dirty talk, dumbification, nicknames (doll, baby) manhandling, spit, praise + degradation and not much plot I fear

a/n: IM NORMAL I SWEAR IM NORMAL! (i scream as they drag me away)

wc: 3.5k | masterlist

“That’s it?” Jason’s eyes narrow as he stares at you measuring out the sedative for your upcoming mission, his arms crossed over his chest watching as you crush it up. In true Jason Todd fashion, he always has to give you his two cents.

“Stay in your lane Jay, I know what I’m doing,” you roll your eyes, leaning over the counter to get your half-empty cup of tea, staring down into it and then back to the little heap of powder.

“That wouldn’t be enough to knock a fucking squirrel out.. let alone a grown man.”

He can’t afford this job going tits up, you need to knock tomorrow’s target out cold.

“What’s a half teaspoon gonna do? Make the bastard a little dizzy?”

“Only one way to find out,” you murmur under your breath, dumping a teaspoon of it into your tea, offering a noncommittal shrug to Jason’s utter dismay.

“Excuse me?”

“For science.” you clarify, tilting the cup in your hand to swirl the mixture around a little.

“Cheers,” you mumble before he can even stop you downing the mixture in one go with a grimace before he can reach over and pry the cup out of your hand.

You set it down, empty on the counter with a soft clink, rubbing a hand over your face.

This just has to take the cake for the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. He’s actually fucking astounded at your level of impulsiveness, disregard for your own health and downright stupidity.

He has a lot of very colourful adjectives he wants to call you right now - he could fill a whole dictionary without even trying.

“Is there something fundamentally fucking wrong with you?”

His eyes are wide, his usual lazy drawl now full of concern, confusion.

With the kind of bullshit you pull, you’re bound to send him to an early grave (again)

“What?” You blink, leaning back against the counter with a sigh.

“Worst case scenario I’ll pass out and you have to carry me to bed. I’ll live! You said it ain’t enough to even knock a squirrel out, right?”

That makes him sputter slightly, running a hand through his messy black hair. That’s unfair, you’re using his words against him.

“M’fine, Jason.” you’re trying to reassure him, stepping away from the counter with your hands raised as if in surrender.

But now that you think about it.. the room really is spinning.. just a little bit.

Okay, you aren’t fine.

Maybe don’t test out sedatives on yourself next time?

“Hey-” Jason caught you a little too easily when you face-planted into his chest, his arms tightening around your waist to keep you upright. He let out a low sigh, a mix of frustration and concern.

“You sure about that being fine?” He sighs, his voice a soft murmur as his eyes scan over you again. “You’re about as steady as a baby deer.”

That makes you giggle, your lips slowly curling upwards.

“..baby deers are cute.”

Seeing the grin on your face, despite your situation, was simultaneously endearing and frustrating.

“You’re implying I’m cute,” your words are starting your slur a little, less stable against him than you were moments ago.

Your grin and the flutter of your lashes cause his eyes to narrow slightly, a sense of dread starting to pool in his stomach. He knows that look, even through the haze of whatever you’re under.

He shakes his head, his hands moving down to your hips with a scowl, trying to keep you steady.

“Nope,” he muttered, his grip on you tightening. “Whatever you’re thinking right now, just—”

Before he could finish, your hand shot up and seized a weak fistful of his shirt, planting your face right into his neck with a dramatic sigh.

“Y’smell nice.”

Jason suppressed another eye roll as he felt your grin against his skin. You’re damn near delirious right now and this was what you chose to focus on?

The feeling of your teeth lightly scraping against his neck caught his attention, a flash of something crossing his eyes.

“Quit it,” he murmured, his fingers under your chin as he lifted your face to meet his gaze again. Your eyes were unfocused, clouded with the effects of the drug.

“M’not even doing anything!”

He doesn’t believe that for a second. It’s a miracle you haven’t tried to climb him yet.

You’re down bad enough for him when you’re in a normal state of mind, but loopy off of your ass? God help him.

“Sure you ain’t.” Jason huffs as he stares down at you, unable to hide the flicker of fondness that crosses his features.

You’re aimlessly mouthing at his neck now, mumbling on and on about how much you love him. He should probably throw you over his shoulder and put you to bed. You clearly need to lie down, you’re off of your head completely.

But he can’t bring himself to.

“You’re a mess,” he murmured, his expression a mix of exasperation and concern - maybe a tiny hint of amusement somewhere in there.

“Nuh-uh,”

Jason couldn’t help the exhale at the sight of you and your attempt at denying the truth. He’s chewing on the insides of his cheeks, trying to hold back the barest hint of a smirk.

Honestly? You do stupid shit all the time, if you feel sick or something.. maybe you’ll learn your lesson for once.

The little bit of drool at the corner of your lips, how you’re shaking a little, the way you’re already starting to look a bit too comfortable in his arms - it’s equal parts adorable and worrying.

But worst of all, it kinda turns him on.

“You really are a mess right now, though..” he leans you back against the counter, one hand staying on your waist to keep you steady. His other hand raised to touch your chin, thumb swiping away the drool at the corner of your mouth, lingering on your bottom lip for a little bit too long.

“Fuckin’ droolin’ all over yourself.”

“You’re mean..” You stare at him for what feels like an eternity in your compromised state, your lips twitching upward into a stupid, shaky grin, leaning further into his hand.

“I’m not mean. Look at you.” He sighs, resting his hand against your flushed cheek.

He feels almost guilty for a split second. He knows you should probably go and sleep this off.

“Try leaning on the counter, yeah?” He lets go of you for a moment, just to check how messed up you really are right now, his hands still hovering around your hips to catch you just in case.

“Right..” you slur under your breath, your knees a little shaky without Jason to hold you.

He tried to ignore the way his stomach coiled at your obedience, at the sight of you looking up at him with those half-lidded, cloudy eyes. You’re trying to prove to him that you’re totally fine - even when you know you’re far from it.

Jason leans closer so can examine your dazed expression, your pupils blown wide like saucers. The effect the drug was having on you even more pronounced now that you were so close. It was hard to ignore the raw desire that was pooling in his gut, the urge to fuck you right then and there.

God, he needs to rein himself in a little bit.

“You still think you’re just fine?” Jason’s mouth hovers over yours, hands finding your hips again, slotting his leg between your thighs.

You’re too out of it to tell if it’s out of concern or if he’s just downright mocking you at this point. All you can do is huff out a small laugh, lashes fluttering.

“M’doin’ great..” You blink slowly, pressed between his body and the cold marble counter, your fingers going to hook into the belt loops of his jeans, trying to grind yourself against his thigh a little harder.

That makes his pants feel tighter than they should, hand moving from your cheek to slide behind your neck, tilting your head around in his firm grip just to see if you’d stop him.

You don’t - you’re letting him just sway your head around with a slurred giggle.

“Dizzy, baby?”

“Uhuhh..” you manage, your head hitting his shoulder with a soft thump, a random giggle leaving you every few seconds until he gives your neck a small squeeze, making you look up at him again.

"Uhuh?" he echoes in a gruff mockery of your slurred words, his mouth a thin line. His hand pushed your skirt up, his fingers grazing over the edge of your panties.

He’s right in front of you but the sedative in your system makes it feel like he’s far away, his wobbly words echoing in your skull paired with the sound of your own heartbeat.

You feel him shift against you, pressing his hips against you firmly. You feel the heat and hardness of his bulge through your skirt hiked-up skirt, leaving no room for imagination as he presses his bulge against the wet patch in your underwear.

Another slurred giggle and your hands are fumbling with his belt, mouthing at his neck since you’re too dazed to tilt your head up and try to actually kiss his mouth.

"Easy there, doll," Jason murmurs as he grabs your wrist, though there was no mistaking the roughness in his voice now as you continued your barrage of messy kisses against his neck.

His fingers press into the soft skin of your thighs as he hoists you up - the action making you squeak slightly as he perches your ass atop the counter.

You seem to forget he’s fully capable of throwing you around sometimes. He makes sure to remind you every now and again.

“..not fair,” You writhe a little against him and he just chuckles at your squeak, his fingers grazing the fabric of your drenched panties. He could feel the heat radiating off you, the dampness staining the soft cotton.

"Not fair?" He taunted, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass for a moment. He pressed his crotch against you, grinding his denim-clad cock against your damp panties, your hips moving out of their own accord to try to press against him too.

What’s not fair is how you think it’s okay to tease him, shameless about it too.

“You’re making a mess of these,” he points out, his voice huskier than usual as he pulls the hem of your underwear taut, releasing it to let the elastic smack against your skin.

You’d normally scoff at that shit and try to get him back for messing with you.

But not right now, it makes your shaky knees fall open actually - teeth pressing into the plush of your bottom lip, drool at the corner of your mouth again.

He can tell you liked that.

Perhaps you’re too out of it to hide what you’re really thinking. You’re usually so composed.

“Slut.” Jason mumbles into your hair, voice deceptively soft.

“..huh?” you slur, managing to frame your head up slightly despite the fact it feels way heavier than it should, lips still in a dumb grin.

“Nothin’. Don’t worry bout it.” he sighs, pressing a small kiss to your forehead, pressing his fingers against your clothed pussy.

“Think you’re too dumb to understand right now, anyway.”

The fact you’re not even questioning what he’s saying, the fact you’re nodding along to everything he says just makes him want to push you a little further.

“M’not dumb..” you frown slightly, your face kinda falling into his hand before he catches your jaw once more.

“You will be.” He applies more pressure with his fingers, circling your clit through the thin fabric, still holding your neck up. You can feel his growing bulge pressing against your thigh, grinding against you hard.

“I mean, that shit you pulled was pretty dumb, wasn’t it?” He grits out, still acting like he’s mad that you got yourself into this state with those drugs.

He isn’t.. not really.

“Little slut like you tellin’ me to stay in my fuckin’ lane.”

“M’sorry..” you slur, barely able to remember why.

He watches your lips curl into an unsure pout, he’s not sure if you’re even able to tell what he’s talking about.

“Sorry, are you?”

Your eyes are getting a little droopy now, grinding yourself against his fingers before the hand that was holding your head smacks your jaw with a small “tsk,” under his breath, the action making you choke out an unintentional whimper.

“Sure you are.” Jason's eyes flickered with a mix of satisfaction and dark desire as he felt your legs spread obediently. His fingers slipped under your panties, his thick fingers wasting no time as they plunge deep into your slick cunt, watching with an almost feral grin as you cry out.

He isn’t even on anything, but he feels just as fucked up as you are right now.

"Jesus," he murmured, his voice rough. "You’re fucking dripping all over my fingers," his thumb soon found your clit, stroking it in quick, rough circles. He’s relentless.

You choke out a small whine and nod barely, his words bouncing from one ear to the other before sinking into your empty skull.

You’re just nodding along to everything that comes out of his mouth. He could say absolutely anything to you right now and you’d take it - with a giggly nod, nonetheless.

Jason's fingers easily pushed past your wet folds, sliding into your tight heat with an ease that left no question of how badly you wanted this.

You can't even form a proper thought, your mind consumed by the overwhelming sensation.

He catches your jaw again before your face hits his shoulder, letting out a small “tsk,”

You’re not allowed to hide from him right now. No way in hell.

You whine under your breath as he pulls his hand out from under your panties, smirking to himself at how much of a mess you’ve made on his fingers.

Jason grins at your immediate pout, it’s like he’s mocking you silently, one hand still holding your face up, the other working to free his strained cock from the confines of his pants.

"You want this, doll?" He leans closer, lightly grinding his leaking top against your clit, his hooded eyes not leaving you for one second,

"You want me to fuck you dumber than you already are?"

“..yeah..” your eyes are glassy, your grin lopsided, hips stuttering to try and get him inside you already, you’re truly not in the state for his stupid teasing.

He’d normally take his time with you, but he can’t right now - entering you in one hard thrust, roughly pushing his thumb into your mouth at the same time.

Jason let out a groan as he felt your needy little pussy clenching around him, his thumb pressing down against your tongue - forcing you to meet his eyes since he knows you can’t even manage something as simple as that on your own.

He’s perfectly content to do all the work actually, he’s not gonna miss this opportunity for the whole fucking world.

"Fuuuck," he hissed, his head falling forward as he started to fill you up, almost going cross-eyed at how eager you are, even if you’re too dumbed down to realise it.

He’s borderline obsessed with how your thighs shake on either side of his hips, the fact he has to actually lift your legs to wrap them around his hips cause you’re just too fucked up to do it makes him almost cum on the spot.

“Jay-“ All you can do is whine around his thumb, drooling down his wrist, shiny in the dimly lit space.

You can’t think - you can’t tell left from right and you don’t even need to, your heels digging into his lower back when his large hand comes down in a firm slap against your ass - then another.

"You like being slapped around like a little bitch sometimes, don’t you?"

Each thrust is rougher, harder than the last, his mouth grazing against your neck as his hands explore your body. His grip on your hip is tight, his movements growing more urgent as the pleasure builds between you.

“Jasonnn..“ His name is the only thing that falls from your lips, a mix of plea and curse, moaned out in a desperate, mewling wail.

The sight of you looking up at him with that hazy, submissive expression made his hips jerk involuntarily, driving into you deeper.

Jason's hand moved down from your face, pulling his thumb from your mouth, finding your clit and started thumbing it in hard, rough circles.

"Look at that," he groaned, his movements growing rougher still, "cockdrunk and slurring your words. Is it the drug or did it always take this little to turn you into a needy slut?"

“..jus’ you-“ you manage to whine, your hips stuttering desperately against his.

“Just me, yeah?” Jason grins at your eager nod, his hold on your hip becoming almost painful. His pace quickened, his thrusts deep and hard, making you moan and writhe in his arms.

His strokes were deep and hard, each one punctuated by a sharp slap against your ass.

"You're just a little pain slut, aren't you?" he murmured, his voice low and rough. "You love it when things get a bit rough, huh?"

“Jay-“ You whine and nod faintly, once more, and your forehead hits his shoulder. He’s having none of it, pulling at your hair so you look at him again.

The plea of his name makes him smile actually, almost feral as he pulls back before slamming his cock inside you again.

“You still know who’s fucking you then? Maybe there is something left in that skull of yours.”

“..my head hurts,” you’re panting, your thighs still trembling either side of his hips.

“Bet it does, need me to think for you, huh?” He’s almost cooing now, pressing his lips to yours to muffle your little whines.

All you can do is nod faintly, your mouth falling open against his. It’s like you’re trying to kiss him but just can’t seem to manage right now.

“You tryna kiss me, huh? Too dumb to even do that?” There’s that smile of his again, it’s kind of sinister - almost mocking as his thumb presses against your clit to watch your mouth fall open in a shaky plea.

He sees an opportunity and he takes it, his lips hovering over yours. But no, he makes no move to kiss you

“Huh-“ You don’t even realise what he’s at until you feel a glob of his spit land on your tongue, your back arching against him.

You swallow.

What’s worse is you can’t even hide the fact that you like it, not when he can feel your cunt squeezing him even tighter.

“Good girl,” his free hand moves to grab at your tits through your shirt his fingers digging into the soft flesh through the fabric as he finally kisses you.

"You're a mess, baby," he sneers against your lips, his words punctuated with each thrust of his hips, stretching you open on his leaking cock, rubbing at your clit even harder.

"Look at you, taking my dick so good, even when you can’t think, y’gonna cum for me doll?”

Trick question.

You’re not sure if it’s the spit or the way he’s talking or the way he’s slamming his hips but you know you’re going to cum, hard.

You’re barely able to verbalise it, your vision blacking out as you cling onto him, legs all shaky and twitchy when you feel him dripping down your leg, hiding your face in his neck with little sobs.

Your eyes flutter open upon regaining consciousness, the soft spray of the shower filling your ears, droplets clinging to your skin as large hands run up and down your back, working through the knots in your muscles.

“There’s my girl, look who’s back,” Jason murmurs into your neck, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder.

You offer a tired nod as you tilt your head back against him, one of his hands resting atop your hip to keep you steady - just in case.

You blink, the distinct smell of his body wash fills the small space between your bodies in the shower - clinging to your skin.

Well, that definitely isn’t your strawberry sundae shower foam, is it?

“I’m gonna smell like a man.” You yawn softly, your head falling forward a little, staring down at the soapy suds going down the drain.

Jason just huffs against the back of your neck, pressing a little kiss behind your ear.

“You were slurring on about how nice I smell earlier, shuddup.”

a/n: mama needs a cigarette after this one.. goodnight.

I could write the most bizarre fiction in the world but I try include at least a little bit of fluff/aftercare at the end in 90% of them because it’s EXTREMELY important - be kind to yourself 🤍

thank u for reading!!

[dollishmehrayan]

# “WOULD YOU DO ANYTHING FOR ME?, BUY A BIG DIAMOND RING FOR ME?” ── .✦ ( how batboys act when they’re engaged w reader )

dollish note ౨ৎ: I lowkey crashed out over losing Americans on tiktok but this woke up to post on tumblr but hey, also can we talk about how trump used that as a pr stunt && thought we wouldn’t notice wtf like omgg the way many americans caught on, alsoo please leave some motivation for me because I just kinda lost motivation for this app after the tiktok thingy went down 🫠 tags: (batboys x engaged!reader)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Over the moon and not afraid to show it. Dick tells everyone the second you say yes. Alfred? He knows. Random stranger in the grocery store? The metro security guy?, Yep, they know too. He’s got that goofy, lovestruck grin plastered on his face 24/7.

Wedding planning enthusiast. You thought you’d do most of the planning? Wrong. Dick’s fully invested, showing you Pinterest boards of venues, color schemes, and “Do you think Nightwing blue (dollish note: I think ‘#3366CC’ perhaps?) would be tacky for the napkins?”

Gets sappy at random times. You’ll catch him staring at you with a dreamy look, and when you ask why, he just shrugs. “I’m just thinking about how lucky I am.”, “Dick calm down you only proposed like 2 weeks ago.”

Brags to the Batfam constantly. “Guys, I’m going to be a husband! Can you believe it? Me! Richard Grayson!” Bruce pretends to be joyful a bit but he’s done hearing it for the 777x time but even he cracks a small smile when Dick won’t shut up about you.

Practices saying his vows in the mirror. You walked in on him once, and he was mortified. “Okay, but you didn’t hear the good part yet!”, “You literally finished the whole paper !!”

JASON TODD ── .✦

Acts like it’s not a big deal, but it’s huge for him. He’ll play it cool at first, saying something like, “It’s just a ring, babe.” But deep down, he’s nervous, excited, and trying not to let it show.

Keeps the engagement low-key. Jason’s not one for flashy announcements or grand gestures. He wants this to be something special between you two, not the whole world.

Protective x10. Now that you’re officially going to be his spouse, Jason is extra watchful. He’s already looking into ways to keep you safe and makes sure you’re never caught in the crossfire of his vigilante life.

Wants you to be 100% comfortable. He checks in with you constantly about the wedding plans. “We don’t have to do anything big, okay? Just say the word, and it’s done.” He’ll let you take the lead but secretly loves when you include him.

Teases you with the whole “fiancé” thing. “Hey, fiancée. Can you grab my coffee? Oh, did I mention you’re my fiancée now?” It’s his way of hiding how excited he really is.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Nervous wreck but totally in love. Tim overthinks everything after proposing. Did he pick the right ring? Did he say the right words? Is he even ready to be a husband? But every time he sees you smile, it calms him down.

Keeps it practical. Tim doesn’t want a huge engagement party or a grand wedding. He’s more focused on what your future together will look like your shared goals, finances, and making sure you’re both on the same page.

Researches marriage like it’s a mission. He has books on successful relationships, listens to podcasts, and even makes a checklist for wedding planning. You find it adorable when he starts using color coded spreadsheets.

Loves when you call him your fiancé. The first time you said it, he blushed so hard he had to look away. Now he’s low-key obsessed with hearing it. “You don’t have to keep calling me that… but don’t stop either.”

Gets emotional when he thinks about the future. You once caught him staring at the engagement ring on your finger, looking teary-eyed. When you asked what was wrong, he said, “I just can’t believe you’re actually mine.” (I would’ve smacked the shit out of him for that, I don’t do romance 🙄💪)

[faesdreaming]

cardinal concept

yandere platonic batfam with a resurrected reader

a/n: because as much as i love neglected reader, dead (then alive again) reader just has so much potential

the dynamic duo, batman and robin. bruce wayne and dick grayson. then, you came along; a result of bruce’s irresponsible coupling with a young woman he’d long since forgotten about. you grow up in the nastier parts of gotham with your mother, where you’re forces to grow up faster and become more mature, until she has an accident.

after you’re mother’s untimely death, you find yourself under his care. bruce is hesitant and unsure, he’s already struggled with raising dick. he doesn’t want to fail you too. he dances around telling about batman until you happen upon the batcave, at your insistence and a few instances of you following them, he relents and lets you join.

suddenly, it’s batman, robin, and cardinal.

bruce is initially unsure what to do with you, even after you become cardinal. unlike with dick, who needed to become robin lest he go down a darker road, you’re only cardinal because of him. it draws out an agonizing guilt, causing bruce to practically coddle you. but you’re emotionally intelligent, in a way bruce isn’t, you’re able to communicate with soft words and gentle reasoning instead of shouting matches and tearful pouting like your brother. you’re his angel, his sweet, understanding angel. it reminds him of his own mother. you’re kind, empathetic disposition is everything bruce needs in his life. because yes, to him, your brother needs his guidance. but bruce needs yours.

as for dick his relationship is with you as simple as this: he’s the big brother and you’re the little sibling. you can fight and argue, but you two always make up and head off to snuggle or play. you’re bond grows stronger the more time you spend on patrol— having each other’s back, getting into trouble with batman— or at school— although you’re in a younger grade, you still see your big brother at school and go to him when you have problems— or at home— snuggled up, watching a movie and eating snacks provided by alfred— you two are extremely close.

you’re little of family of four— including alfred, of course— is tight-knit. you fight and argue but always make up and you’re always there for each other.

until dick becomes nightwing and a scruffy teen named jason todd joins you. as close as you are with your older brother and father, you bond with him far quicker. maybe it’s because of how close you are in age, or maybe it’s because of your shared past experiences.

the family dynamics shift and change, but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. dick grows more distant, going off with the titans. but that’s to be expected, he’s grown up now. you still visit him, of course. and he still pops by to see you. bruce, you notice, softens, almost. he’s grown accustomed to parenthood. jason is your favourite change, though. a sibling close in age, but still younger, so can justify (playfully) bossing him around. your family isn’t perfect, but it’s yours and you love it.

then, jason and bruce start fighting. dick goes off world. a fight with bane leaves you injured and out of commission. it’s just a rough patch, you tell yourself. until, suddenly, jason’s birth mother contacts him. something’s off about it. you want to tell your dad, however, jason is adamant you shouldn’t. reluctantly, you don’t, opting to go along with him just in case.

your gut, as it turns out, was right. you’re injured and unable to do much as the joker captures you and jason. you’re helpless to watch as your brother, your sweet baby brother, is beaten mercilessly with a crowbar. your voice is hoarse from screaming during your own beating and your body is sore, but despite it all, you still rasp out pleas to let your brother go. one child will be effective enough. the joker can spare one. of course, in his cruelty, he doesn’t.

you’re left aching, battered, and bruised. the ticking of the bomb serves as the count to your death. jason, brave jason, tries to gather enough strength to get up. and maybe, just maybe, he could escape if he weren’t focused on trying to save you. he won’t listen to your pleas for him to go, to leave you behind. he’s adamant upon accompanying you to your doom.

you hear the final ticks. with all the strength you have left, you move towards him. you cannot save yourself. you cannot save him. all you can do is die beside him. pressing your forehead to his, the last thing you see is your little brother’s face before the final tick sounds and the ensuing explosion consumes you.

and that’s the end of it, your journey, your life. you’re buried alongside your brother in a sombre ceremony, your uniform cased in glass as a memorial to bruce’s failures. he becomes angrier, loses himself. he’s lost two of his children and is fighting with his only remaining one. dick, is utterly furious, with himself and bruce. he blames bruce. for letting his precious siblings die, for starting them all of this heroic crusade. he blames himself for not being there, for being distant with you and jason.

alas, time marches forwards and batman needs a new robin, in the form of one tim drake. he’s a clever kid, one way too smart for his own good. one you used to babysit while his rich parents were away to earn some extra cash. it wasn’t right, leaving him with no one his age to play with. so, when you could, you’d come over. you’d soothe his loneliness. and for that, he’s forever grateful.

your influence continues beyond your death. for you life has impacted so many. barbara gordan, for example, who viewed you akin to a little sister. who fought alongside you as batgirl. you were loved by many as (Y/N) Wayne. your friends and family still hold candles for you. even as they accept your lose, they never stop fully grieving for you and the lost potential brimming inside you. then, there are those who you impacted as cardinal. as a hero, you saved numerous lives, including that of one stephanie brown, who will forever feel indebted to you and strives to become just like you.

the justice league, who knew you as one of the first sidekicks, who functioned like extended family, mourn deeply for your loss and offer sympathies to your father and brother. they will remember you and your tenacity, carrying on their pursuit of justice with you in mind. certainly villains, such as poison ivy and even harley quinn, are enraged with the joker. while you could occasionally be a pain, you were their favourite kiddie hero. and of course the likes of selina kyle and talia al ghul, your father’s paramours, women who became like family to you.

cardinal will be forever immortalized in the hearts of heroes and villains alike, your legacy of compassion and kindness living on in memories transformed into stories, your death a testament to sacrifice and love and heroism— except, that isn’t how it ends, is it? no. your story doesn’t end with your death, it’s how it begins.

and your real story begins by waking in the constricting confined of your casket, bursting out with inhuman strength, fueled by the adrenaline boost, and digging your way out of your grave, the cool mud giving way to harsh ground until you break through the service. that night, that stormy gotham eve, is the day you are reborn.

you flee then wander the streets of gotham until you regain your mind. you remember, you remember everything and you, you don’t want to go back. not to your family, not to your friends, not the life you once knew. you were given a new life. and this life, you would live for yourself.

sans your old attachments, you live encumbered, untroubled by past woes. yet, you seem to forget your festering memory, the mark you’ve left on people. you forget that while you may be willing to leave your old life behind, they aren’t as willing to let you go. especially when they learn you’re within reach.

[ahqkas]

“CRY BABY — jason todd.

PAIRING ! jason todd 𝒙 fem!reader SYNOPSIS! your boyfriend’s here, doesn’t matter if you need him during an important task. you need him now so that’s what he does; he shows up. WORD COUNT! 2.6k WARNINGS / TAGS! fluff, mention of reader’s hair + lmk if more found ! NOTES! based on this req.!! header bellow belongs to @/v6que © ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

THE GROCERY STORE WAS UNUSUALLY CROWDED FOR A FRIDAY EVENING, the fluorescent lights overhead buzzing faintly as you shuffled through the small grocery shop. You grabbed a cart and slowly pushed it past the holiday display at the entrance. The pine garlands and cinnamon-scented candles filled the air with cheerfulness of the holidays that felt out of place for your mood. The day had been fine, but a little . . . heavy, like the edges of everything you did were frayed. Shopping for groceries was supposed to be routine, calming even, but tonight it felt more like a chore.

You started in the produce section, eyeing the dark red apples stacked neatly in pyramids. Jason liked apples, especially sliced up with peanut butter, and you didn’t have any at home. You grabbed a few, along with a small bag of clementines—they were on sale, and the idea of peeling one later sounded comforting. You added some spinach to the cart, though you weren’t ure what you’d do with it yet.

The next aisle had the coffee and teas. You hesitated in front of the shelves, scanning for Jason’s favorite blend. He always said he didn’t care what kind of coffee it was as long as it had caffeine, but you knew he liked the dark roast with the smoky flavor. So, you grabbed a bag and tossed it into the cart before picking up a box of black tea for yourself.

In the dairy section, you grabbed a carton of eggs and some milk, along with a tub of the fancy Greek yogurt Jason pretended to hate but always ate half of when you weren’t looking. You added a block of cheddar cheese too, because he always complained when you didn’t have any “real cheese” in the fridge.

Finally, you grabbed a loaf of bread and a box of pasta before heading to the candy aisle. You’d been eyeing the peppermint bark in the holiday section earlier but didn’t grab it. Now you plucked a small bar of it off the shelf and dropped it into the cart. A little indulgence couldn’t hurt.

The cart wasn’t full, but it was enough. Enough to get through the week, enough to stock your kitchen for the nights Jason decided to stay over and make himself at home. He didn’t live with you—not officially—but his presence lingered in your apartment like a second heartbeat.

You made my way to the registers, where the lines were moving slowly. It was late, but the store was still busy, the energy of people rushing to finish errands before closing time crackling faintly in the air. You took your place in line, watching other customers inch forward and fiddling with the edge of your scarf.

It wasn’t a bad day, you reminded yourself, just a heavy one. You would unload the groceries back at home, make some tea, and settle in for the evening. Maybe you’d call Jason later, hear his voice and let the rough warmth of it carry you into something softer. The thought made the corner of your mouth twitch up in the faintest smile. And maybe he could even stop by, spend the night.

That thought warmed your heart.

The line at the register moved slower than you expected, giving you too much time to stand there, awkwardly fiddling with your scarf and glancing at your cart. The apples and kettle chips sat next to each other, an odd little pairing that made you think of your boyfriend. He’d swipe one of each, snack in hand, smirking like he’d outsmarted the whole grocery system.

Finally, your turn came, and you pushed the cart forward. The cashier was a lanky teenager with a mop of greasy hair tucked under his name-tagged baseball cap. His name tag read Trevor, but his expression read bored in bold letters. He glanced up at you briefly, his eyes darting over your cart with the kind of disdain only a teenager could muster before going back to his phone.

“Hey,” you greeted the kid politely, smiling despite yourself as you began unloading your groceries onto the conveyor belt.

“Yeah, hey,” Trevor muttered, clearly distracted as he shoved his phone into his pocket. He hit a button on the register with a little too much force and sighed loudly, like the very act of being here was an affront to his existence.

You handed over the loaf of bread first, thinking maybe you could set the pace for a smooth interaction. Trevor grabbed it and scanned it without a word.

“Paper or plastic?” he asked flatly, not bothering to meet your eyes.

“Um, paper, please.”

Trevor reached for the bags, shoving the bread in haphazardly before grabbing the apples next. The bag tipped slightly, the loaf threatening to crumple. You winced internally but said nothing, figuring it wasn’t worth the trouble.

As he scanned the rest of your items, you started to pull out your wallet. Your fingers fumbled for a moment as you searched for your debit card, the silence stretching uncomfortably.

“Do you, like, need the receipt?” Trevor mumbled under his nose, tossing it into the bag before you could answer.

“Um—yes, please,” you said quietly, slipping your card out of the wallet at last.

The teenager rolled his eyes, exhaling loudly. “Next time, maybe have it ready? Kinda holding up the line.”

The words hit you like a splash of cold water. You froze for a moment, face flushing as you quickly swiped your card through the reader. Your hand trembled just enough to make you fumble again, and you could feel the heat of embarrassment crawling up your neck.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, not daring to meet his eyes as you hurried to finish.

Trevor didn’t respond to you anymore. “Next!”

You grabbed your bags as quickly as you could, your vision blurring slightly as you turned away from the register. Your chest felt tight, the weight of the embarrassing moment pressing against the bones of your ribs as you hurried out of the store.

By the time you reached your parked car, the tension had built to a boiling point. You set the bags down in the passenger seat and slid into the driver’s seat, closing the door behind you with a soft click. The space felt safe, isolated from the world, and as soon as you were alone, the tears spilled over.

It wasn’t just the kid or his tone—it was everything. The way the week had dragged on endlessly, the tiny moments of frustration piling up like bricks until this one insignificant encounter became the tipping point.

You pressed your palms against the steering wheel, breathing uneven as the tears came in quiet, hot streams. They weren’t loud or desperate, just a release, a way to let go of the tension that had been weighing you down all day.

After a few minutes, the sobs subsided, leaving you feeling raw but lighter. You wiped at your face with your sleeve, sniffing softly as you leaned back against the headrest. The worst of it was over, but the ache lingered, a reminder of how fragile the balance could be sometimes. What you needed now was something solid, something warm to remind you the world wasn’t as heavy as it seemed.

Reaching for your phone, you scrolled through your contacts, thumb hovering over his name for a moment before you pressed it. The line rang twice before his voice came through, low and rough but tinged with familiarity and care. Jason always had a way of grounding you, his voice a tether when the world felt too loud.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, his tone already softer than usual. “What’s going on?”

And just like that, the weight in your chest started to ease.

“Hi,” you said, the word wobbling despite your best effort. “Are you busy?”

There was a beat of silence, the kind that told you he’d caught on. Jason’s voice shifted, quieter but firm, like a hand on your shoulder. “No, I’m not busy. You okay? You sound . . . upset.”

You hesitated, the urge to downplay it bubbling up. “I’m fine,” you said quickly, though you knew it wasn’t convincing. “Just . . . had a moment. Nothing big, I promise.”

“Sweetheart,” Jason interrupted gently, his voice like a steady anchor. “Don’t do that thing where you act like it doesn’t matter. Talk to me.”

You sighed, resting your head against the window now. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “It’s stupid. A cashier was kind of rude, and it just . . . got to me. I cried about it in the car, and I feel better now, but I guess I just—” Your voice cracked, and you exhaled shakily. “I wanted to hear you.”

Jason didn’t respond right away, but the silence wasn’t heavy. It was the kind of pause that said he was listening, thinking about the best way to hold you from a distance. When he spoke again, his tone was warm and firm, a voice that could steady mountains.

“First of all, it’s not stupid,” he said. “People can be jerks, and it’s okay to feel what you feel. You don’t have to justify that to me—or to anyone.”

A small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. He always had a way of cutting through the noise in your head, finding the simplest truth in it all. “Thanks,” you murmured.

“Where are you?” he asked. “Still in the car?”

“Yeah,” you admitted. “Just . . . sitting in the parking lot.”

He hummed softly, the sound almost like a purr through the receiver. “Okay. Here’s what we’re gonna do. Take a deep breath for me—nice and slow. Can you do that?”

You nodded before realizing he couldn’t see you. “Yeah,” you said softly, following his instruction. The air filled your lungs like it hadn’t in hours, grounding you.

“Good,” Jason praised. “Now, I’m on my way to you. Sit tight, and don’t you dare think about apologizing for needing me.”

“Jason,” you started, but he cut you off.

“Don’t ‘Jason’ me, sweetheart. You’re my girl. That means if you need me, I’m there. Simple as that.”

The lump in your throat returned, but this time, it was different—softer, less heavy. “Thank you,” you whispered.

“Always,” he replied, and you could hear the faint sound of him grabbing his keys. “Now stay where you are. I’ll be there soon. And when I get there, I’m giving you a hug so big, you’re gonna forget what the cashier even looked like.”

You laughed softly, the warmth of it surprising you. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” Jason said, his voice lighter now. “I’ll see you soon, baby. Just hang tight for me.”

The call ended, and though the ache hadn’t fully disappeared, it was quieter now, tempered by the knowledge that he was coming. Jason didn’t just make the world feel manageable—he made it feel safe, like no matter how overwhelming the little things got, he’d always be there to pull you back to solid ground.

Ten minutes later, a sharp, sudden knock on the car window startled you out of your thoughts. You jumped in the seat, heart leaping into your throat as you turned to look—and there he was, standing outside in the cold, his broad shoulders hunched slightly against the wind. Jason’s cheeks and nose were flushed a soft pink from the winter air, and he had one hand shoved into the pocket of his leather jacket, the other gesturing for you to roll the window down.

You blinked, processing his presence as he gave you a small, crooked smile through the glass. “Come on, sweetheart,” he called, his voice muffled but still rich and warm, like it carried all the heat you’d been missing. “You gonna let me freeze out here or what?”

Scrambling, you fumbled with the controls and rolled the window down halfway. “Jason? What are you doing here?” Your voice wavered between shock and something lighter, something closer to relief.

He gave a soft huff, his breath visible in the cold air. “You really think I was just gonna sit around after that phone call? Get outta the car, baby.”

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of the earlier tears still clinging to you, but his steady gaze left no room for argument. With a sigh, you grabbed your scarf and pushed the door open, stepping out into the biting cold.

As soon as you were standing in front of him, Jason’s hands found your shoulders, his touch firm but gentle as he guided you closer towards him. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low and earnest, his green eyes scanning your face like he was trying to read all the parts of you you hadn’t said aloud.

You nodded, but the way your chin trembled betrayed me. “I’m fine,” I responded quietly, even though the words felt flimsy. “I was feeling better after we talked, really. You didn’t have to come all the way out here—”

Jason cut you off with a soft, knowing sound, one of his hands moving to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. His touch lingered, his knuckles warm against your cheek. “Yeah, I did,” his tone left no room for debate.

For a moment, the two of you stood there, the cold wrapping around you but unable to penetrate the bubble of warmth his presence created. His thumb grazed your cheekbone, and you realized you had been leaning into his hand without thinking.

“You’ve been crying,” he said softly, the observation carrying no judgment, only quiet understanding. “You don’t have to pretend with me, y’know. Not ever.”

The lump in your throat returned, but it was smaller now, manageable. You took a shaky breath and gave him a faint smile. “I just felt stupid crying over something so little. I didn’t want to bother you.”

Jason’s brows knit together, his expression turning almost stern. “Hey,” he exclaimed, tilting your chin up so you had to meet his eyes. “Your feelings aren’t little. And I told you—no matter what, I’m here. You don’t bother me, alright?”

You nodded, swallowing hard as the weight of his words settled over you like a blanket. His sincerity had a way of melting through all the self-doubt you carried, leaving only the quiet reassurance of his steady presence.

“Good,” he said after a moment, his hand dropping to take yours instead. He laced your fingers together, his grip firm and grounding. “Now, give me your keys.”

You blinked up at him. “What?”

He smirked, his nose still adorably rosy from the cold. “You���re not driving, sweetheart. Not when you’ve had a day like this. I’m taking you home.”

“You didn’t bring your bike?” you teased faintly, trying to lighten the mood.

Jason snorted. “In this weather? Hell no. Now quit stalling and hand ’em over.”

Reluctantly, you pulled the keys from your pocket and dropped them into his waiting hand. He gave you an approving nod before tugging you toward the passenger side door.

“Come on,” he said, opening it for you like the gentleman he only pretended not to be. “Get in. I’ll crank the heat for you.”

As you slid into the seat, Jason closed the door behind you and walked around to the driver’s side, his movements easy and confident despite the chill. When he settled in and started the car, the warmth of the heater began to fill the space, and for the first time that evening, you felt completely safe.

Jason reached over, brushing his hand across your thigh in a gesture so casual yet intimate it made your chest ache. “See? Already better,” he said, glancing at you with a lopsided grin.

And as the car pulled away from the parking lot, the groceries safely tucked in the back and Jason by your side, you couldn’t help but think he was right.

[sugary-strawberry-shortcake]

“Take It Off.” (Yandere Older Brother!Damian x Sister!YN)

A/N: if any of you want to be included in a taglist for my series 'Reverse Bloom‘ feel free to just tell me. in the next few days I’ll make a separate taglist post too.🩷

Damian didn’t understand it at first. Why something so small—so ridiculously insignificant—would make his skin itch.

A pink ribbon. Soft. Loose. Curled into her hair like something innocent.

But when she wore it, the world changed. People stared longer. Teachers smiled differently. Boys laughed too loud around her locker. They didn’t see her as Y/N Wayne—sweet, shy, quiet. Pure. They saw something else.

Something they wanted to reach for.

And that wasn’t allowed.

She didn’t understand. Of course she didn’t. She was always naïve like that—always thinking she could make friends in a city that breaks everyone. She still smiled like she didn’t know how this world worked. Like she hadn’t died in it once already.

And now that he remembered?

He couldn’t unsee it.

The photo of her corpse on the slab. Her hair matted. Her wrists bruised. Her ribbon cut and discarded on the floor.

So when she walked in with it again—smiling, soft, stupidly sweet—his control snapped.

She was his blood. His sister. The only other biological child of Bruce Wayne. She was his responsibility. His to protect. His to watch over. His to keep safe when the rest of the world failed.

If she wanted attention, she should’ve asked for his. Or the family’s. Not the world’s.

He was trained to defend.

They were not.

She didn’t get to offer herself up to the public like that. Not when she was already the only delicate thing left in this house. And if that meant taking the ribbon, the smile, the freedom from her—then so be it.

She didn’t understand yet.

But she would.

The car door shut behind her with a soft click, the leather seats still warm from the morning sun.

YN settled in quietly, brushing her fingers through her hair—just enough to fluff it a little. The pink ribbon rested neatly near her temple, tied in a small bow, the ends tucked into her curls.

It was a delicate thing.

Soft. Feminine. Innocent.

And Damian had been staring at it since the moment she stepped out of the house.

The car pulled away from the curb.

Neither of them spoke.

Until—

“Take it off.”

She blinked, glancing at him. “What?”

He didn’t look at her. His voice stayed flat.

“The ribbon. Take it off.”

Her hand hovered near it. “…Why?”

“You don’t need a reason. Just do it.”

She frowned. “It’s not hurting anyone.”

“It’s drawing attention.”

“And?”

Damian finally turned his head toward her, green eyes sharp.

“You know what kind of attention.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You can’t control how people look at me, Damian.”

“I can control how you present yourself.”

“Excuse me?”

He leaned slightly forward. “You think boys at that school aren’t already staring at you every time you walk through the hall?”

“I don’t care.”

“Well, I do.”

“You’re not my father,” she snapped.

“No,” he said, “but I’m stronger. Smarter. Faster. And unlike you, I understand what people are capable of.”

She glared at him, chin tilted. “You’re overreacting.”

“And you’re being reckless.”

“I’m wearing a ribbon.”

“A ribbon you don’t need,” he hissed, voice low and simmering.

Then—before she could flinch or pull away—his hand moved.

Fast.

Too fast.

She let out a startled gasp as his fingers curled into the fabric near her temple, not yanking—not quite—but firm, unyielding.

“Damian—”

She lifted her hand to stop him, but he was already there.

His other hand caught her wrist—easily. Her arm was like paper in his grip. His heart clenched. She was small. Frail. Soft in ways that didn’t belong in a world like Gotham. In a world he lived in.

And he knew it.

He had trained for war.

She could barely lift a textbook.

“Let go,” she whispered.

“Then stop acting like you’re not mine to protect.”

She froze.

His fingers slipped the ribbon from her hair. She tried to jerk back—not to fight, not really, just to reclaim a little space.

But he didn’t move.

Didn’t loosen his hold until the ribbon was curled in his palm.

He looked at it.

Then looked at her.

Her hair was mussed now, the curl loosened where the ribbon had been. She looked younger. Smaller.

He hated that she looked upset.

He hated more that she still didn’t understand.

“Don’t wear things that make people look at you like that,” he said softly. “I won’t allow it.”

She stared at him, cheeks flushed, breathing tight.“You don’t get to decide what I wear.” He didn’t answer.

He just slipped the ribbon into his pocket and leaned back in his seat.

She turned toward the window, shoulders trembling with quiet frustration.

And neither of them said another word for the rest of the ride.

She never asked for the ribbon back.

And he never returned it.

Authors note:

my first drabble of a singular member. Will probably do a few more. If you have any requests feel free to tell them to me.:)

[thewritingfairy]

જ⁀➴Father's day

trigger warnings: self-harm, petty Reader, isolated Reader main m.list    series m.list      good ending m.list

Fathers day has always been a big event for the Wayne’s, while most of his children don’t take him that seriously nor have a good relationship with him they always got together and did something for Bruce.

However, his first biological child, (Name), would rather eat glass than celebrate Father day.

However when they expressed this to their siblings and Alfred, they scoffed. Telling you to put your anger aside for at least today.

So you smiled during the dinner, but you didn’t give him anything. No instead, you smashed your glass and ate a few shards.

Duke too shocked to react, Dick too slow to stop you, Jason scared to even move, Cassandra holding Damian back from doing anything rash, Barbara quickly cleaning up the remaining glass with Stephanie and Alfred rushing to get the medical supplies.

Bruce? What does Bruce? He just stood there.

This day, he isn’t reminded of what as great parent he is. No, he’s reminded of you being willing to die to leave this family.

Taglist: @justsaii, @bbmgirll, @cruzerforce4256, @frank-vanderboom, @lilyalone, @mat5u0, @blackheart1454, @wisefuncherryblossom, @lingxio, @c4xcocoa

[nxtaliaistyping]

hi so what if ummmmmmhh.,, what if. what if dick grayson. ur reading something out loud or whatever AND HES EATINF U OUT. and he's MEAN ABOUT IT. HES REALLY REALLY REALLY MEAN ABOUT IT. if u stutter or whimper or pause NUH UH YOU GOTTA START OVER. HES MEAN ABOUT IT😭😭😭 DO U SEE MY VISIONJ😭

Dick Grayson being mean <3

Authors note: absolutely loved this request, thank you so much babe <3

18+ nsfw, fem reader

“C’mon babe, anyone would think you aren’t even trying.”

At your whine, he grins and looks up at you. There you are, a goddess in his mind, sat on the plush cushions of your sofa with your legs spread wide. Face flush, your hair sticks to your forehead as you gaze down at your lover, keeping a trembling grasp on your book.

The book in question was a silly romance book you’d picked up, a way to pass the time while your boyfriend was out. But you didn’t know he was planning on getting home early, and when he’d playfully snatched the novel away from your hands and realised what it was, you could see the cogs turning in his mind and a devious smile materialise in result.

Now he’s lapping at your cunt rhythmically, feeling your wetness spread on his tongue while you shakily attempt to read aloud. The paragraphs blur together in your attempts to retain coherence.

“I know you can do it angel.” He murmurs, spitting on your clit as if to give you motivation.

You clear your throat. “B-Before I could delve into that. Aaron’s large body shifted-“

Humming with the satisfaction that you’re reading aloud again, he gently parts your pussy lips with his fingers before plunging his tongue in. Dragging it up and down, you try you hardest to keep your tone level and even. “If you mess up, I’m gonna have to edge you, pretty.” He’d said to you with a smile, masking the cruel dominance with his playful grin and sparkling eyes.

You keep reading, eyes burning holes into the pages to keep your concentration. All the while, the slurping sounds of Dick feasting beneath you reverberates off the walls.

“He was caging me against what felt like the wardrobe d-door-“

Stuttering just as he sucks on your clit, he laughs softly and pulls away. “You know the rules angelface, no stuttering. How else am I gonna get a good handle on the plot?”

God you could kick him at this point, but you settle for a soft whine as he rubs his big hands over your thighs to calm you down. He watches like a hawk as your pussy twitches and leaks, and he can’t resist leaning back down earlier than he wanted to just to get another taste.

“…and I didn’t know how we had ended up there. Not really-“

Shaking his head from side to side, he ensures no millimetre doesn’t receive a massage from his tongue, before circling your clit and blinking up at you. He’s clearly impressed, you can see it in his expression as you keep reading. But you can’t deny there’s something else behind that face…almost annoyance, annoyed he can’t get you to crack again.

“But he was pressing deliciously into me, sheltering me from the- f-fuck!”

You can’t help but squeal as he without warning plunges two fingers into your cunt, immediately curling to hit your g spot. He grins, triumphant.

“Now now. You’ve done it again.”

He licks your inner thigh, keeping his fingers inside without moving, even as you whine and try to buck into him. Not cracking at your desperation, instead he cocks an eyebrow at you.

“Baby, you know I said you had to read it properly. It’s not my fault you can’t listen.”

His tone was smarmy, but masked under a charming smile and a silver tongue that constantly sounds at ease. You look at him desperately.

“Please Dick...”

He swats your thigh, causing you to jump a little in place.

“Let’s take it from the last paragraph, shall we?” He offers, before diving back in. Slurping.

“Before I could delve into that, Aaron’s large body shifted-“

This time you do better, determined. You keep your tone steady, sounding out every syllable you can even with his fingers bullying their way in and out of your tight pussy. He licks and sucks your clit like it’s candy, not even attempting to be quiet or subtle about it, and clearly not giving a damn about the plot.

But you succeed, making it to the bottom of the page before your cunt starts to tighten, and the warmth starts to bloom. As soon as your thighs shake, Dick knows what’s coming. He waits until you pause at the end of a sentence before speaking.

“I’m guessing you’re close, huh baby? Wanna cum all over my face while you read your smutty little book?”

You nod, unsure whether you could speak or if he’d deem you going against the rules he’d set out.

“Alright. If you can read a page more, you can cum. And you better not cheat and skip any sections.”

As he gets back to it, you attempt your best at staving off your orgasm while reading the words that threaten to bleed into a jumbled mess as your eyes start to water. Everything in your body is screaming at you to let go. Your pace speeds up, but luckily he doesn’t seem to react, as you barrel towards the finish line, both in literary and carnal form.

Just as you reach the last sentence, you cry out in horror as he suddenly pulls his fingers out, leaning back and watching you nearly cry with desperation.

“Sorry pretty, but you did mess up a lot back there. Maybe when I get you sat on my cock, your public speaking will improve.”

[fromdove]

congratfuckinglations to whoever had a chance to bounce on it

[fear-is-truth]

jason todd runs hot. always has.

like asphalt baking under the august sun, his body radiates heat. in the dead of winter, it’s a blessing. in the middle of summer, it’s a curse.

right now, with your AC busted, it’s the latter. he’s sprawled out on your bed, shirtless, an arm slung over his face. the fan in the corner rattles uselessly, doing little more than stirring the stagnant heat. his skin gleams with sweat, dark hair curling damp at his temples.

“this is hell,”

“it’s eighty degrees.”

“exactly.” you pop open a can of coke, ice-cold from the fridge, and take a sip. the second jason hears the crack of the tab, his arm moves from his face, one eye cracking open with interest. you know he’s about to ask for a sip—so you press the can straight to his stomach. he jerks like he’s been electrocuted.

“fuck!”

you burst out laughing, but it’s cut short when he snatches the can from your hand and slams it onto the bedside table. it wobbles dangerously, foam sloshing over the rim.

“you little—”

“you looked like you needed to cool off,” you say, smugly. jason glares at you, chest rising and falling, sweat glistening along his collarbones. then, with zero warning, he lunges. you yelp as he tackles you into the sheets, his overheated body pressing down on yours like a human brand.

“jay—you’re sweating on me! gross!”

“good,” he says, smiling against your temple. “suffer.”