#kryptonian!reader

[thatrandomidiot182]

Glimpse of Another Life

Variant! Invincible/Mark Grayson × Kryptonian! Reader

Warnings. minor angst, mentions of unrequited love, mentions of death/murder.

A/N. This is verrry dialogue centric, and written during 3am spurts of inspiration, so it's not the greatest, but I do like how it ended up. I hope yall like it as well! P.s. This is not referencing any of the canon Mark variants, but it can be seen as viltrumite Mark if you want! I just had this idea and wanted to share bc pathetic Mark has me DOWN BAD 😫

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

"I thought I'd find you here."

The statement sends a wave of panic down your spine, breaking the peaceful silence you had tried so desperately to find. Your body springs up, instantly uncurling from the fetal position you had been floating in as you tense, preparing to face the source.

"You always came up here after a rough day."

God you wish he'd just shut up.

You never thought you'd feel like this, but after everything that's happened these last twenty-four hours, all you wanted to do was escape that damn voice.

It's why you had fled the planets atmosphere in the first place. Speeding off to curl up in your hiding place next to the sun as soon as things had died down.

It was the one place you knew you could avoid Mark— or at least, your Mark.

It was the one place you could escape the sound of his voice spitting words he'd never say.

"You look exactly the same... You're as beautiful as the day I lost you."

He whispers your name like a prayer, and it sends a violent wave of nausea rolling through your stomach.

Just yesterday it would have brought you an embarrassing amount of glee to hear his voice calling out to you in such a tone.

The teasing lilt and deep, raspy pitch would normally send a wave of comfort over your tensed figure, instantly quelling your fear... Mark always did have the innate ability to shatter your defenses. Even with something as simple and small as a laugh.

"Please. I'm not here to hurt you. I'd never hurt you, I just... I needed to see you again. It's the only reason I came here."

His voice trembles, pitch heightened as he begs, "Please let me see you."

Your body trembles as you feel his presence drawing closer. Whether it was with fear, rage or exhaustion, you don't know. Maybe a sick combination of all three...

"I'm not that person..."

It was the only thing you could think to say in the moment, and your enhanced hearing allows you to hear the stutter in his breath all too clearly...

Along with his heartbeat, which was beating almost as fast as yours.

"I know."

His voice is small, defeated. As you finally turn to face him, body coiled and tensed for a fight, you find yourself freezing at the sight– because this Mark was different.

His face was stronger, more defined. All chisled cheeks and sharp jawline, no trace of the leftover baby fat you loved to squish when he was being too cocky.

Prominent eyebags and traces of a five o-clock shadow age him significantly. Although, taking into account the scars that littered his face and hands and the pure size of him, it was safe to assume he was a bit older.

As your gazes finally meet, you find yourself hesitating at the amount of pain and fondness his eyes held.

That hesitation lasted for only a moment, because as soon as your brain processed the full image of this Mark, you froze.

There are quite a few reasons you feel as though you should be afraid of him, but none of them were what set you off.

It wasn't the suit, which was, to your horror, the classic Viltrumite uniform that you had seen on the previous visits from the race.

It wasn't the length of his hair, which was only slightly shorter than your Marks' was and added to the aura of stern maturity he carried.

It wasn't even the broad expanse of his shoulders, that easily beat your Mark's in comparison, that caused you to freeze in such fear.

It was because of how much he looked like his father.

From the slope of his shoulders to the cinch of his waist, even down to the swell of his thighs, this Mark was undeniably his fathers son.

You'd never thought that Mark had looked like Nolan as much as everyone said he did, but seeing what could be– what is, this other Mark... One who is far from the slender, goofy, childhood best friend of yours that can't build huge muscles if his life depended on it...

Suddenly made you grateful that Debbie's genes had put up such a fight.

Because even as you see Nolan in the mass of his muscles, and the stance that takes up as much space as possible while simultaneously exuding danger and strength– You can still see the remnants of his humanity in the shape of his eyes and curve of his lips. In the slope of his nose and the brown of his iris, you see traces of one of the greatest women you've ever known.

Which is the only reason you haven't moved to attack.

Because this Mark was different. Not just from your Mark, but from all the other Mark's who you had fought (and killed) throughout the past few hours.

Whereas those Marks were all varying in size and stature, their eyes had all held the same sinister glint.

They all shared the same sick inclination to violence and pride, never hesitating to attack first, with a stupid, egoistic whip and strength that rivaled your own.

He didn't.

Despite his size, his posture was carefully submissive, hands splayed open before your eyes in a show of innocence and vulnerability.

His eyes were gentle and tired, rather than obsessive and manic as the others had been.

Still, despite his seemingly unviolent nature, you don't know why you never attacked him.

Maybe it was the desperate hope to find another Mark that was good, or at least, not as bad as all the others.

Maybe it was the overwhelming exhaustion that had numbed your mind since you were first forced to kill a version of your best friend.

Or maybe it was because he somehow knew where to find you, when even your Mark had no idea about your solar absorption, that led you to where you are now.

Sat next to him in a cozy little crater on the moon, overlooking earth as he recalls your alternate life.

"We grew up together. Inseparable since the moment Nolan brought you home from the GDA after your little ship landed in the middle of New York." You note the peculiar use of Nolan's name, nodding along with his words as you reflect on your past with your own Mark.

"I used to be so jealous of you growing up. Unlike me, you had your powers since birth. Nolan always told me that it didn't matter how long you had your powers because when I got mine, I'd be stronger anways." He scoffed, "Fucker was always trying to pit us against each other..."

You tilted your head at that, confused by the notion, "He... never did that here." Your voice was hesitant, unsure if sharing the fact would comfort or further upset him.

Based on the way he smiled at the sound of your voice, you assume he wasn't too concerned with your actual words.

"That.. Makes me so happy to hear, actually." He laughs, breathless and without much humor, "I imagine we– You have a much better relationship with him then..." He trails off, glancing questioningly your way.

You pause, "With Nolan? Or..."

He huffs, leaning more into his elbows that are crossed over his bent knees as he responds, "Both, I suppose..." He gazes out at the expanse of space longingly, "I've thought about it a lot... What it could've been like if he never made us hate each other."

His grin falters, "But that didn't happen. Well, it did, just– not fast enough..." He stutters, and you watch nervously as his fists clench.

"We were at each other's throats our entire lives, and it only got worse when I finally got my powers– I think I was thirteen?" His body remains tense as he continues, "I used to see you as competition. Nolan always paid more attention to you. He took you with him on patrol, he trained you, he.... He made me feel like you were in the way of our relationship as father and son."

He scowls, "I felt like I had to fight for Nolans attention whenever you were around, and it made me hate you because you seemed to take it for granted. You were never enthusiastic about spending time with him, you even seemed to avoid it, and it pissed me off to see you taking advantage of it when I had to beg for crumbs of his approval." He grit his teeth, shuffling ridgedly and you instinctively lean further away at his agitation.

His head snaps your way, and your heart lurches in your throat, wide eyes meeting his as he softens under your flighty stare.

"That's exactly what he planned..." He trails off, head turning away as his body slumps, agitation fizziling out at the sight of your fear. "He wanted me to hate you, so that I would eventually have the will to... eliminate you when the time came to conquer earth. He-He knew that you were the only thing that could pose a threat to our takeover." You both winced at the wording.

"It wasn't until junior prom that I actually opened my eyes..." He laughed sadly.

"Mom made us go together, seeing as neither of us were very popular and tried to use that as an excuse not to go..." He smiled with a wistful sigh, "I'm glad she did. It... ended up being the best night of my life." Your heart clentched at the sight of his crooked smile. His eyes were glazed and reflected the light of the stars in a way that had your breath hitching all too familiarly.

He laughs again, eyes crinkling with affection, "I still remember how awkward you looked in your cute little outfit." His voice took on a teasing lilt as he glanced at you, "Standing at the top of the stairs all grumpy because mom wanted a picture..." He leaned back to lean on his hands with a laugh, "I remember standing there like an idiot. Gaping like a fish because, all of a sudden, you were more than the annoying kid who took my dad from me... You were just... A normal teenager... Who also happened to be the prettiest person I'd ever seen." Your cheeks flushed, and despite knowing he's not actually talking about you... you couldn't help but let yourself indulge in the compliment that your Mark had never even come close to speaking.

"You know, I beat myself up the entire car ride to the school. It was so awkward and it made me realize that despite my dad's interference... You never hated me."

Your eyes are wide and curious as you listen. His voice held so much fondness for this other version of you, it was shocking to imagine him ever hating her.

"I felt like the worst person alive when I realized that despite how awful I was to you, you never held it against me. Guess it's because you knew that I didn't know who my dad actually was..." his voice trailed off, and you could sense the rising anger simmering in his eyes.

"Who knew all it took for you guys to get along was teenage hormones and the dougie..."

Your absentminded comment snaps him out of his haze, drawing his attention as a bewildered stare graces his features.

"I mean, a sixteen year rivalry ended in one night! Must've been some prom..." You smile as you finally get a laugh out of him, quietly reveling in the sound.

"Yeah. It sure was." He smirks, eyes twinkling with a familiar mischief, "You can dance a mean cupid shuffle."

You burst into laughter, tossing your head back with a grin, "Tell me, does you having two left feet translate to every universe?"

He grins back, "Well, yeah– but you said it was cute!"

Your laughter rings in the quiet expanse of space, heard only thanks to the superior senses of your respective alien biologies.

In your humorous fit, you fail to realize how close you began to lean towards Mark until the warmth of his bicep met your own.

Your laughs dwindle at his sudden silence, head tilting to eye him as you grow concerned.

You were met with a gentle, fond smile that set your heart ablaze. His eyes were soft, cheeks pink and dimpled as he stared at you reverently.

You stayed quiet, allowing yourself the moment to soak in his undivided adoration, silently preening under his gaze.

It wasn't until he reached a hand up to brush against your cheek that you snapped out of your stupor. Hesitantly pulling away as you reprimand yourself for getting swept away.

After all, this isn't your Mark.

This isn't your best friend (and nothing more).

Your Mark would never willingly speak so adoringly of you.

Your Mark would never caress you so softly, as if you were something to be worshipped.

Your Mark just didn't love you like you loved him.

It was cruel and unfair to lean into the embrace of this Mark and take advantage of his feelings because at the end of the day, you are not the you he fell in love with.

Your thoughts drive you to break the silence with a sharp sigh, pointedly ignoring his hurt stare as he slowly lowers his hand back to his side.

"Why are you here, Mark?"

He stares at you with a furrowed brow, "I told you, I wanted to see–"

"No, I mean–" You take a breath, gesturing to the earth before you half-heartedly, "Why did you come here with them, if you don't want to conquer our world like they do?"

He takes longer to answer you this time, and you began to worry about his answer.

"It was the only way to see you again." His voice is shaky, the warmth from your previous conversation gone as he glares out at the planet. "Angstrom promised that if I helped him get revenge, he'd let me see you– have you." He pauses, and you tense at the implication of his words.

He sighs, wincing at your jumpiness as he rushes to reassure you, "I'm not here to be the bad guy. I don't want to conquer this earth, I could care less about this Mark! I just– I needed to see you alive. T-To know that you're happy and healthy here... and to make sure it stays that way." His last words are spoken so softly they were almost whispered, and you hesitate to believe them for the sole reason you think you might have hallucinated them.

Nonetheless, you stay silent at the revelation, allowing yourself the time to properly digest your entire encounter thus far.

Your head is far more clouded than when you originally came up here after Mark had disappeared with Eve. After your heart could no longer take killing him again and again...

You don't know what you're supposed to do anymore...

You want to cry, but you can't because you know the Mark next to you will want to comfort you, and the worst part is that you'd allow it.

You want to go back down and pummel every varient you come across just to let out the frustration you feel, but you won't. Not after discovering the possibility that they're not all bad.

So what can you do? What should you do?

What will you do?

What you always do–

"Well, you said you weren't here to be the bad guy, right?"

You slowly rise from your seated position, looming over Mark with a steeled gaze.

Despite your seriousness, you can't help the quirk of your lips at the intense way he nods his head. You shoulders stiffen as you turn back towards earth resolutely, sparing him one last glance before taking off.

"Prove it."

–Save your planet.

[pastelclovds]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞

pairing: debbie x kryptonian!male!reader x nolan

cw: angst, diabetes amount of fluff, polyamorous relationship, hurt/comfort, pre s2, comfort sex, praise kink, vaginal sex, oral sex, squirting, soft dom!top!reader, spooning position, mentioned past threesomes, infidelity (andressa and nolan in the end 😬).

word count: 1.5k

authors note: continuing from this post a lifetime ago. this is my most angsty fic yet :’) enjoy 💕

the only thing that just as painful as fighting your husband, nolan, the man whom you had loved for two decades after witnessing him beat your son (mark) to a pulp: was watching your wife, debbie break into a million figurative pieces on your bed while she was holding one of nolan’s shirts.

you had always admired her independence and compassion. she taught you and nolan the history, beauty, and culture of this peculiar planet. it wasn’t long until she and nolan had stolen your heart. the house was empty and mark was off to college. you had come back home from the grocery store, a box of debbie’s favorite snacks in your hand when you caught sight of her sobbing self.

debbie was the strongest person in the universe to you. she had always put the needs of others before herself. this time, you’ll be sure to make her feel loved and supported. she didn’t push away from you as you took her into your sturdy arms, nolan’s shirt immediately forgotten.

she let’s out a sob when she felt your lips trailing from her collarbone to her neck. a few tears still manage to escape her closed lids but disappear as you kiss them away. debbie sits on your lap as she hides her swollen face on your chest.

“i’m sorry—”

“you have nothing to be sorry about.”

“how could i’ve been so stupid to believe him for all those years—?”

you gently cup her tear stained cheeks as you softly muttered, “i believed him too. nolan’s betrayal hurt us both. but you’ve been dealing with it all by yourself when we should’ve been dealing with it together, debbie. you’ve been strong long enough, for mark and myself. i’ve never been more proud of you, but now it’s your turn to let go and be taken care of. will…” she gasps when you give her waist a small squeeze, you continue to ask with soft eyes, “…you let me?”

debbie had never felt more loved in her life, she had no clue what she would do if you weren’t there by her side. the bed was never cold. your tender smile greeted her every morning. you treated her like she was a queen worthy of your worship. she was so tired of putting on a facade. tonight, she wanted to be yours.

debbie answers your question by wrapping one of her arms around your neck as her plump lips pressed against yours, to which you warmly welcomed back. all the while, her other hand snuck under your shirt and started stroking your abdomen.

you removed her shirt and unclasped her bra, debbie let out a pleased sigh as her chest was released from its cage and hung free, her nipples hardened under your lustful gaze. you didn’t waste any time in getting naked yourself as debbie continued to strip herself for you. her heart leaped when you stared at her body with the same hunger as when you first saw her naked all those years ago.

a string of slick reveals itself as debbie removes her panties when she catches sight of your toned muscles shining under the light of the sunset peeking through your bedroom window. your dick throbbed and felt heavy as debbie took it in her hand, you shallowed your groans with a steamy kiss as her fingers played with your tip.

before debbie could make a move to take you into her mouth, you stopped her. she stared up at you puzzled.

“i’m supposed to take care of you, remember? i wanna spoil you, make you feel good,” you spoke in a thick tone that it has debbie clenching around nothing. you said nothing as you picked up debbie like she weigh nothing as placed her carefully on the cold bedsheets. you spread her legs apart until you were met with the delicious sight of her wet pussy. your cock jumps and your balls made it painfully clear that they were full than ever. you wanted to dive into her body and never part, but you ceased those thoughts. this was for debbie, not you. there would be a time for that later.

debbie looked up at you with pleading eyes, you lowered yourself down on the floor at the edge of the bed. your hands continued to lovingly caress debbie’s thighs. then, without warning, you leaned your face towards her cunt and push your tongue inside her twitching walls.

“oh fuck— ah! oh, this feels so good,” debbie cried out, her legs wrapped themselves around your head. she didn’t know if it was because you were an alien or whatever, but your tongue always managed to reach the deepest depths of her better than nolan could.

debbie fists the sheets as you continue to stretch her out, but you didn’t stop there. you ravenously sucked her clit, your growls sending pleasant vibrations through out. you devoured her like an inmate on death row. debbie was reminded on how greedy you were when it came to her pussy. whether it was to eating her out or thrusting your fat cock into her, it didn’t matter. you were drunk on her and nolan’s respective holes nonetheless.

debbie let out gasping moans as your tongue flattened over her overstimulated clit and dragged it back and forth. just to throw her over the edge, you pumped your fingers in and out of her sopping pussy, curling them up and pressing them against her walls until they found her sweet spot. you stared up at her with a soft, demanding look, as if you were commanding her to let go and release all over your face.

the only sounds in the rooms were the slurping of your mouth against debbie’s sex and her uncontrollable noises and pleas for more. It was too much and perfection at the same time. debbie shook as she choked out a cry, she sees stars as her orgasm rushes through her and slick squirts over your lips and nose.

debbie laid on the bed like a stringless puppet, her eyes closed as she catches her breath. meanwhile, you rise from the carpeted floor, wipe the clear slick from your face, and use it to lube your hard cock. it had already turned bright red near the tip due to you ignoring it. now the real fun can begin. you give debbie a few minutes to rest, you handed her a bottle water to drink as you showered her in praise.

debbie flushed at the overwhelming adoration. debbie recalled another memory of you taking charge in the aftercare as nolan and debbie held each other in warm embrace after a particularly exhausting session. you made sure they were the most comfortable.

finally, you set debbie sideways on top of the soft pillows as you laid behind her, snaking your arm around her waist as you grind your dick against her entrance. debbie whined when she felt the tip of your cock touch her clit after every movement of your hips.

you peck her neck once more and whisper next to her ear, “i love you, debbie. more than anything else. you aren’t alone, this wasn’t either of our faults. you’re my strong, beautiful wife. nothing’s gonna change that.”

you hear debbie’s breath hitch before salty tears fill her eyes once again. she turns her head and holds onto your neck so she could press a kiss to your lips. your bodies were tangled up like a intimate pretzel, even if you didn’t have your super hearing, you’d still be able to hear debbie’s heartbeat due to how close she was.

nobody else but yourself, debbie and nol—

…nobody else but debbie and youself existed…

debbie pulls away from the kiss first as a few tears escape from her eyes again, she stares at you with pure love and trust as she mutters out, “thank you for everything. i love you more. please, please put it in—”

debbie trailed off and let out a sighing moan when she felt your cock fill her to the brim, your hips press flush against her. your tongue was perfect, but your dick was divine. you were going to do everything in your power to make sure nobody hurt your family again. but in the deepest corner of your mind laid a traitorous thought.

where did nolan go, and was he okay?

after you and debbie were done making love, you use your super human speed to make quick work of clean up and gave debbie one last kiss good night before covering the two of you in a blanket and sleeping peacefully for the first time in weeks.

meanwhile, nolan stared up blankly at the countless stars above him from his spot on the balcony that was just outside his bedroom, where andressa slept peacefully on his bed heavy with his future child. despite how far he traveled, nolan could never run away from the memories of what he’d done. he was a disgrace to his empire, and to his family.

the picture of you and debbie appear in his mind. no matter how many times he tried to deny caring for the two of you: he couldn’t believe it himself. he wished things could’ve been different.

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

"SMILE FOR THE CAMERA BABY"

TIM DRAKE X KRYPTONIAN!READER

*SNAP ZOOM CLICK*

The camera zooms in on your naked body, taking in every inch of your curves, every contour, every scar, every stretch mark, every spot you try to wiggle away from the camera's vision. But all Tim had to do was move his hands or move your body. You were usually so much stronger than him, but tonight you were weaker, your link to the Kryptonite chains holding your power back, a green glow dancing over your skin. You felt so weak and small under him, whimpering and gasping for air as the camera continued to follow your every move. "You like the cuff I made for you? Took me a couple of months. I had to raid Bruce's Kryptonite stash just to find the perfect one for you." You could see the cocky smile on his face behind the camera. Why did he have to be so perverted? You started to gain your bearings just a little bit until BUZZ. "GAAH!" you moaned out, your body arching, tears rolling down your face. He rubbed your abdomen gently, calming you down, keeping your back pushed against the bed. "It's all right, baby, I'm here," he chuckled softly, the cocky bastard, putting the vibrator on high just to see how you would react. He's evil like that, villainous like that, rubbing circles with the vibrator on your sensitive bud, seeing you shiver and shake. "Aww, crybaby, I'll take good care of you. Just a few more for tonight, or maybe not; this way is too fun." He licked and kissed your tears away from the overwhelming pleasure, putting the vibrator back on high, guiding it up and down your wetness, humming along with the rhythm of the toy. Your body started to go limp, your mouth slacking open as another orgasm hit you like a truck. "Not putting up a fight," he mumbled against your cheek. You stopped thrashing around, pulling out of the cuffs, your body relaxing as you let your thighs tremble. His lips found yours in a heated and sloppy kiss, his tongue dropping down into your throat, making you whine. The kiss separated with a string of saliva connecting your mouths. If you remembered correctly, drool trickled down the corner of your mouth as you gasped for air. Here you lay during the interview. Tim's kisses got desperate as he made his way from your chin down to your neck, placing bites on your collarbones. His lips continued to travel, sucking on your nipples. The camera was still in focus, moving an inch down to where the vibrator was sitting, still buzzing loudly. "That's enough of machines; let me make you scream in the right way." His warm tongue flicked against that sweet bud, and you moaned, your head falling back as you thrashed against the cuffs. "Baby, break these one, and I'll make the next ones even stronger." He suckled gently on your bud with a purr; all you could do was nod.

[invincibledc]

“Lucky bastard”

(YJ version) Robin/Nightwing X Super!Reader

→Genre: Fluff

“Woah! I didn’t know you can cook a 5 star meal!” Wally said as he blitz over to check out the steak you made with asparagus. You only shrugged as you sit the place down, Wally immediately gobbled it up. Ending with him with a bloated belly filled with a good hot meal.

Robin walks in the kitchen to see you cleaning where you cooked as Wally looked at his best friend. “Dude! Sups over here can cook a mean dish. You gotta try their steak” he says. Robin smiled, “Aw man..wish I had my own plate when I came earlier..”

You rolled your eyes as you opened the microwave to pull out an extra plate of what Wally had. “I heard your stomach growling birdy. Eat up.” You put the plate gently on the counter as robin got a knife and fork to eat it. As he took the first bite, he went into flavor town as he couldn’t believe you made this. “Woah..”

“I know right dude! It’s amazing..you don’t mind if I take a small piece rig—” “NO BACK OFF WALLY!” Robin immediately covered his plate with his body. Eyes furrowed down, Wally backed away shock. “Woah man..didn’t know you were that hungry.” And with that, Wally sped off. Leaving you and Robin alone, you laughed at the speedster speeding away as Robin went ham mode on the steak.

Having steak juice running from his mouth made you cringe. You grabbed a paper towel as you inched towards him, wiping the juices off his mouth and side of his lips. You felt Robin tense with hearing his heart rate go up. The boy wonder slowly turns his head at you, you tried to ignore the teen’s stare as you wiped the last mess on his lips. Throwing away the paper towel, Robin caught your attention when he grabbed your wrist gently.

“Whoever marries you in the future is one lucky bastard.” He says with a smile, he then goes back to eating the steak and asparagus. You only laughed, walking out the kitchen as the boy wonder feed himself to what he feel inlove with.

Years later….

Dick was in his casual clothes as he looked outside the window, showing the beautiful night sky. He smiled, looking down at his left hand. That beautiful ring that shows off who he belongs to, that moment was ruined when his stomach growled. Dick groaned, sitting down in his bed as he wondered when dinner will be done.

But the gods have answered when your voice ran through the apartment

“DICK!! Dinner is done, I can hear that monster of your stomach calling for food!” You yelled, ending it with that beautiful laugh of yours. Dick’s eyes widened, getting up from the bed and running down the hall to the kitchen. There you were with an apron as Hailey barked seeing her human dad. “Ah it’s my favorite…the one that made me fall in love with you.” He pointed to the plate you held out to him.

“Steak and asparagus.” You both said, laughing before dick kissed you sweetly on your lips. You had to move the plate from you as dick then started to hungrily kiss you, having one hand on your lower back. Pushing your body towards him more. You had to break the kiss as dick laid his head on your shoulder.

“Cmon let’s eat, dick..” you said smiling, dick hummed. Smiling with a nod of his own he took his plate while you took yours.

He sure is a lucky bastard for life.

[v-killallspiders]

HEIR TO THE STARS

Mark Grayson x Kryptonian!Reader

CHAPTER TWO: TOO CLOSE FOR COMFORT

It had been three hours since Omni-Man had left the planet. It had been three hours since Mark Grayson’s battered, bruised body was recovered from the side of the mountain he had been abandoned on. It had been one hour since Mark Grayson had left surgery. 

You had been standing outside Mark’s hospital room for one hour. You weren't sure why. You didn’t know Mark and Mark sure as hell didn’t even know you existed - probably still wasn’t aware of your existence after your three second interaction a few hours ago. You were probably the last thing on his mind at that moment with his father tearing the city apart in a fury. 

You were broken out of your stupor by the sound of the door softly opening and closing, Debbie Grayson momentarily leaving her son’s bedside. Debbie looked confused for a beat before recognition dawned on her, “You.. you tried to save him. Tried to save my boy.”

You said nothing for a moment, simply taking in the older woman’s features. Mark was definitely her son, from those soft eyes to the curve of his mouth.

“I did,” you stated simply, giving her a small nod, your hand flexing slightly in the cast you had been given, “I should’ve done better. For him, for you, for everybody else.”

Debbie’s features softened, this was a girl the same age as her boy, her sweet boy. A girl who could’ve been her daughter, carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. Carrying some sort of misguided guilt because she wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t fast enough to protect people from her husband. Debbie had to hold back the sob she so desperately wanted to let out. Instead she held strong, both for her and the young girl in front of her. Debbie took small, cautious steps towards you, as if approaching an injured animal.

“You tried, that’s all that matters and all that should matter,” Debbie murmured, hands rubbing softly up and down your arms. She nodded towards the room, “Go, I think he’d want to meet you.”

You said nothing as you looked into Debbie’s kind eyes, trying to find any sort of lie or hesitation in there, any sign that she would rather you leave. You found nothing, just pure, unwavering honesty and softness.

You hesitated before backing away from Debbie and making your way towards the room. Using your uninjured arm, you slowly pull the handle down to open the door. The sight that greets you inside is gut-wrenching. Mark looked so small laying in that bed. Smaller than you had ever seen before with his usually large presence and unwavering grin. His face was a patchwork mess of bruises, you couldn’t even see his one eye properly with how swollen and purple it was. 

You clench your jaw. This was your fault. If you’d have been smarter, stronger, faster- you could’ve beat Omni-Man. Could’ve saved Mark, could’ve saved all those other people in Chicago. If you’d have just been what Cecil had actually raised you to be, not this pathetic mess-

“You’re that girl..?” he whispers quietly, his voice raspy from unuse. You immediately try to leave the room, not prepared to actually talk to Mark after spending so many months watching over his shoulder like a guardian angel.

“Wait!,” Mark exclaims, trying to get up from the bed, grunting from the pain, “Don’t go, please.”

You freeze, hand firm on the door handle, prepared to flee at any point, “What’s your name?”

“It’s Y/N,” you reply softly, turning around to face Mark head on, for the first time ever.

“You’ve always been there haven’t you?” Mark asks, not accusing but not quite questioning either, “Always been over my shoulder, watching? Waiting?”

“You saw me?” You asked, completely avoiding his main question, eyes trying to look everywhere but at him.

“No, but I could always feel you. It was driving me crazy,” he murmurs, upper body flopping back onto the bed now that he knew you weren’t about to run off.

You didn’t say anything, simply moved to sit in the chair by his bedside.

“Why,” he asked, shutting his eyes as he leaned back into his pillows.

“Cecil was… concerned,” you paused, trying to find the right words to say that wouldn’t paint your father as a paranoid freak. Not that it would be an incorrect assumption to make.

Mark barks out a dry laugh, his jaw clenching, “Cecil wanted you to make sure I didn’t step out of line, huh?”

“Mark…” you sighed, “It’s not like that.”

Yes it was. Cecil didn’t have a full contingency for Omni-Man so he’d be damned if he had nothing for the older alien’s kid son. Although, you weren’t privy to the full details as to what Cecil had planned, which was frustrating in itself.

“Dont! Don’t sit there and lie to me please…” Mark snapped, before exhaling deeply, “Would you have ever come to me - if my dad didn’t decide to rearrange my entire fucking face?”

You flinch at his tone, “I don’t- I don’t know, Mark.”

Mark just nods in defeated silence, refusing to look at you.

“I’m Mark Grayson, what’s your name?” He suddenly blurts out, finally making eye contact with you, a slight twinkle in his eyes - a far cry from the defeated look he had mere moments ago.

You stare at him unblinking before a soft smile breaks out on your face, “I’m Y/N Stedman, let’s be friends?”

[wordsofwhimsy]

EᗰᑭIᖇE Oᖴ TᗯO

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

【Ａ/Ｎ】⦂ Thank you beautifulpersonsblog for the request! I’m not sure what type of personality you had in mind for the Kryptonian reader so I just ran with it. I hope you enjoy!

【ＰＡＩＲＩＮＧ】⦂ Sinister!Mark Grayson x Kryptonian!Reader

【ＷＡＲＮＩＮＧＳ】⦂ Violence, oppression

【ＩＮＳＰＩＲＡＴＩＯＮ】⦂ “My Piece” by Miguel

【ＳＹＮＯＰＳＩＳ】⦂ In Sinister Mark’s universe there is a Kryptonian who, for whatever reason, has taken up the mantel of being his partner in crime. The atrocities they commit together are unthinkable, and more than that—unstoppable.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

The night was quiet. The city below sprawled with lights and sporadic dots of burning fires as it trembled under the weight of tyranny. From your view on the balcony of Mark’s high-rise fortress, the world seemed so small. So fragile. The moon hung low in the sky, bathing everything in a silver glow. But to Mark, the world wasn’t bathed in light. It was bathed in control. And the woman standing next to him, gazing out at the city with silent intensity, was his greatest weapon.

“You look beautiful tonight,” Mark's voice broke the silence, though it wasn’t a compliment—it was simply an observation. He wasn’t one for pleasantries. His tone was firm, devoid of any tenderness, the way he always spoke. You were his ally, his tool—his lover? Of course. He’d be a fool not to make use of a body that sumptuous. The warmth though that typically existed between lovers was absent, replaced instead by a cold sense of purpose and obsession.

Your Kryptonian features caught the moonlight perfectly—sharp, angular, striking. A goddess among mortals, and Mark revealed in the idea of his possession of you. You were strength, beauty, grace—but above all a weapon to be unleashed on his command.

You turned to face him, your eyes narrowing slightly, not at the compliment, but at the context. You knew him well enough by now to understand his twisted nature. The way he operated.

"You don't need to flatter me, Mark," you said, voice low with a raw edge. The arrogance in your tone matched his. "If you need me to make a move, just say it."

He nodded, an almost imperceptible smirk pulling at his lips. "You’re such a good girl…”

Mark took a step toward you, eyes calculating, never once betraying any emotion that wasn't necessary. "I need you to do something for me. There’s a resistance—weak, disorganized, but disrespectful to my rule, quite frankly. I want them broken."

Your lips curled into a subtle smile. "You know exactly what I want," he continued, a lustrous tone to his words. "I want them to see what happens when they oppose us. I want them terrified."

You stepped closer, your eyes locking with his. There was a moment of silent understanding between you two—a recognition of power and mutual respect. Mark wasn't the type to get close to anyone, but with you, he was different. Not in a sentimental way, but in the way that a king might view his queen. Necessary. Useful. As beautiful and dangerous as a blade.

"You have no idea how good it feels to be used," you whispered, your voice dripping with dark satisfaction. "To be part of something… greater."

Mark’s lips twitched upward, not into a smile, but into something far darker. "Then make them see. Make them fear you. They won’t know what hit them."

The moment suddenly became charged with an intensity that neither of you could ignore. The calculated coldness that normally hung between you both evaporated, replaced by something far more primal. There was no longer a leader and a tool, no longer a ruler and his weapon. In this moment, it was just the two of you, standing at the edge of destruction, and something dangerous stirring in the night.

You could see the way his chest rose and fell, the slight clench of his jaw, the hunger behind his cold eyes. Without warning you closed the space between you, reaching up to rest your hand on the stony contours of his chest. For a brief moment Mark tensed, as if anticipating the risk of what might come next. But then you pulled him in, lips crashing together with an intensity that felt like it could level everything in its path. The kiss was fierce, hungry—nothing gentle about it. His hand gripped the back of your neck, pulling you closer, as if to ensure that no distance would remain between you.

You responded in kind, your body pressing into his as the kiss deepened. There was no softness, no warmth. Just raw, unrestrained power. The way his lips moved against yours was deliberate, controlled, as if every kiss was an extension of his will. You matched it, your hands gripping his hair, tugging him closer, as if you, too, wanted to assert your dominance.

Mark growled low in his throat, the sound vibrating through his chest, and it only spurred you on. You pulled away just enough to look at him—his eyes dark, filled with a mix of control and something darker, more primal. "This is what power feels like," you whispered, your breath coming in shallow bursts, your body trembling under the weight of the moment.

He didn’t respond right away, but his fingers traced the curve of your jaw, his touch cold. "I don’t need to feel power," he said, voice low and dangerous, his gaze never leaving yours. "I am power."

And before you could respond his lips were on yours again, this time even more urgent, the world around you fading to nothing as you both drowned in the fire of your shared ambition.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was an assertion. A claim. And in that single, heated moment, everything that stood between you—every rule, every limit—was torn away. But sooner than either of you would have liked, the moment came to an end. Your lips pulled from his as he eyed the sheen of saliva now coating your mouth. It stirred an arousal deep in the pit of his abdomen.

A dark glint flickered in your eyes. "Leave them to me. I'll make sure they understand who’s in charge."

Mark gave a slight tilt of his head, acknowledging the agreement. As you moved to leave, he spoke again, his voice soft but cutting, the kind of tone that commanded loyalty without question. "Remember you’re not just here for show. You’re here because you're better than them. Use that."

With a single look, you walked past him, the heels of your boots clicking sharply against the floor as you left the room, each step bring you closer to the chaos you would soon unleash.

Mark watched you leave, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. You would do the work, ugly and bloody, and in return he would give you the dominion over this world that you both craved.

This resistance would be nothing but a footnote in the history you would write together.

Later that night...

The city streets were littered with mayhem. The resistance members who had dared to stand up against Mark’s rule were scattered, their hopes shattered. The few who remained struggled to hold on to the last threads of rebellion. But there was no escaping the inevitable.

You hovered above them, your Kryptonian presence an overwhelming symbol of strength that left those who witnessed it breathless and awestruck. The few brave souls who had gathered to oppose Mark’s empire looked up in terror as you descended, the night sky darkening around you like an omen. They could see it—your absolute dominance, and they knew in an instance that resistance would be futile.

With a flick of your wrist you sent them flying, their bodies crashing against walls, into cars, and across streets. The screams of the helpless echoed in the distance, but you didn’t care. You never did. Thia rebellion would break just like the rest had—through force, through fear.

Mark watched with satisfaction from his perch atop their fortress. His fingers tightened around the railing, a cold smirk crossing his face as you obliterated their last hope of standing tall. You were the storm he released from the sky, all encompassing in your oppression. The sight excited him in ways he could hardly contain.

And when you returned to him, stood beside him once again, the pleasured sensation thudding in his chest and coiling in his stomach was almost euphoric.

Mark turned to you, struggling to control how much feeling he convey on his face, but the truth was self-evident. In this twisted relationship, you were indispensable. The storm was yours to create, but only he could control it.

Together, the world would fall. And it would fall to you.

 “That was impressive,” he said, his voice almost reverent. “You didn’t just defeat them. You absolutely annihilated them. Such a beautiful thing you watch you show them that no one—and I do mean no one—stands a chance when we’re in control.”

You both couldn’t help but to relish in the feeling of triumph. You had crushed the resistance, obliterated anyone who dared to oppose Mark’s will. And Mark wasn’t just pleased; he was exhilarated. His eyes were fixed on you, a dark gleam in them that wasn’t just admiration but unsuppressed hunger.

He took a step toward you, his posture commanding. “You really did break them,” he said, his voice low, thick with satisfaction. “I knew you were strong, but this—seeing you unleash that power... this is exactly why I chose you.”

Your chest swelled with pride at his words. He didn’t just view you as a weapon in his arsenal. In this moment, he saw you as something more. A force to be reckoned with, equal to him in every way. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, not with cold calculation but appreciation.

“I told you,” you murmured, your voice rich with confidence as you stepped closer. “I’ve always known what I’m capable of. I just had to make you see it too”

The space between you closed as Mark reached out, his hand brushing your cheek, the gesture almost tender but there still being a lingering notion of power behind it. A claim. A promise. “You make me so proud,” he nearly purred. “You’ve earned this. You’ve earned everything.”

His words were like fire, lighting something inside you. The look in his eyes—the raw hunger, the respect, the shared ambition—pulled you in. Without another word you crushed your lips to his, your hands threading into his hair, pulling him closer. The kiss was explosive—ferocious, full of raw desire and ecstasy.

Mark responded instantly, his hands roaming over your back, pulling you closer as if to make sure there was no air left between your bodies. His kiss was intense, possessive, but there was a deeper current to it—a viscousness that suggested he needed to remind you he was still in charge of if all—that included you.

You broke the kiss, breathing unaffected as you looked up at him with a rush of adrenaline. His eyes were dark, glowing.

“You were perfect,” he said, voice thick with desire. “You’re perfect. We’re unstoppable.”

 “We are unstoppable,” you replied, your lips pulling into a wicked smile. “And I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon.”

He didn’t hesitate. Mark pulled you back into him, kissing you again, this time even deeper as his hands exploring your body, claiming it as his. There was no need for words now—only actions. Your fingers roamed over his chest, feeling the strength beneath the fabric, the undeniable power that had brought you both to this point.

Mark’s hands slid down your sides, lifting you effortlessly as if you were weightless, and before you could fully process he had you pressed against the nearest wall, his lips never leaving yours. The kiss was all-encompassing, a physical manifestation of the control and dominance you both now shared. There was no hesitation in his touch, no doubt in his mind. He claimed you just as he had claimed the world—completely.

The kiss broke only for a moment, both of you seemingly starved for the others touch as your bodies still pressed together. “You are mine,” he said softly, the words a dark promise, a declaration.

“And you mine,” you replied, your voice full of equal certainty as your nails dragged down his chest before pulling him in for another kiss as if to seal the agreement between you.

The world outside, the people you had crushed underfoot—none of it mattered now. It was just the two of you, reveling in the power you had claimed, the empire you’d built together. This was only the beginning, and you both knew that nothing would stand in your way.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Hello. (Bingo) Can you write Dark Clark Kent and plus size female kryptoian reader ?

.⋆｡The Last of His Kind｡⋆.

Dark!Clark Kent x plus size reader

Clark is no stranger to loneliness, but a mysterious ship in the middle of the desert could be just the answer he’s been searching for

Warnings: kryptonian!reader, DARK FIC but more soft than my usual stuff, naive reader, kidnapping?, possessive!clark, no use of Y/N, future isolation and controlling behaviour WC: 1k

6k Follower Celebration Bingo

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Clark had always been alone in the universe, an unfortunate consequence of his own people’s arrogance and willing ignorance of the happenings of the world around them. He didn’t mind so much as he had never experienced anything different but after Zod and the briefest of hints that he wasn’t the last, Clark felt a deep stirring in his chest.

He often caught himself staring off into the void between stars, wondering if there were others out there. But his duty was to Earth, he couldn’t just leave because of some slim hope that other Kryptonians lived on a far away planet. And even if there were, they could be like Zod- power hungry and cruel. 

But on a cool day in late October, Clark got his chance to find out.

The office was almost empty, everyone having gone home early to beat the autumn storm that was predicted for later that evening, leaving Clark virtually alone in his block of cubicles. His article was almost done but he found himself picking it apart over and over again, like something deep in the recesses of his mind was telling him to delay returning home for as long as he could. Then, he heard it.

A heavy thud of something crashing into the earth, it had to be bigger than a meteor but far smaller than an airplane or weather balloon. Clark’s head tilted as he focused all of his senses to somewhere in the Sahara. The groan and pop of heated metal slowly cooling, the hiss of air escaping a pressurised chamber. He could smell gunpowder and dust that clung to the shell of whatever it was. But he could also hear the steady beat of something within the metal.

With a cautionary glance around the office, which was now absent of anyone save for him, Clark stood. He was careful enough to shut down his computer and gather his things but as soon as his bag was zipped and he was safely in the stairwell, he darted down the stairs, just barely keeping himself restrained enough not to go too fast and give himself away.

He could hear the beating slowly getting faster. He ran out of the building as the hissing ceased and the familiar turning of gears started, just like it had in the ship he discovered in the arctic. Clark stumbled over his work shoes, the buttons of his shirt practically flying off in his struggle to get out of them. If this was another Zod, he wouldn’t have much time to react before they started acclimating to Earth’s healthy sun. 

His glasses were barely off his nose when he finally heard it, a soft groan- delicate, gentle (as much as a groan could be) and Clark’s heart skipped a beat. She let out another soft sound and Clark finally took off. 

This could be it, the answer he needed so badly. Perhaps it was an elder who could really teach him about his home world, a child who had been lost just like him. But some deep part of his soul, a piece he had locked away a long time ago, wondered if it was someone his age, someone who would be his equal, his partner.

The sands of the Sahara quickly revealed a huge slash through the dunes, darkened by the heat of the ship’s dramatic entry. The ship itself was halfway buried in the sand, its black hull a stark contrast against the bright sand. Clark landed in front of its rounded end. 

Steam curled around the dark metal but he barely had time to appraise the vessel before a mechanical clanging began and the sand around its side started to shift. Clark darted forwards as a panel lifted and the earth around it immediately began to spill inside. He grabbed at the open frame and tugged the ship free just as its occupant became visible.

She was beautiful.

Large curves highlighted by tight spandex-like material, the exact same as his suit. The symbol spread over her generous chest consisted of two overlapping circles, one that he didn’t recognise even after his father’s lessons. Clark felt like he couldn’t even breathe as he looked down at her body, everything about her was captivating, hypnotising, everything he had ever wanted. Her hair was pulled back and away from her face, allowing him to observe every blemish and mark of her skin in extraordinary detail. She was a goddess in its truest sense, an ethereal being in mortal form.

And when she finally opened her eyes, he was met with the most brilliant shade of e/c he had ever seen. Panic briefly flashed across her face before she saw his own house symbol and immediately relaxed, her expression more calm than he thought it should be in this situation.

“I’m Kal-El.” Her eyes sparkled in the strong rays of the sun as a small smile crept onto her face.

“Kal.” She repeated his name back to him in a voice far more pleasant than he had ever heard before. Her lips parted again but suddenly her body rocked forwards, as painful coughs rattled through her lungs. Clark swept her into his arms without thinking and pressed her to his chest. She limply clutched at his back as she continued to cough.

He flinched with each of her laboured inhales, his own chest burning with a rage he couldn’t explain. But what he did know was that no one else could know of her. Only god knew what would happen if any government found out about another Kryptonian, especially a female one. Lois and his mother would try to corrupt her mind, encouraging her to leave him.

He wouldn’t let that happen. He would never let himself be alone again.

He could protect her, mould her. She would be safe. No one would know of her existence, not until she knew who exactly she belonged to, the only person that she would ever be able to trust.

Clark smirked as he cupped her head gently, his thumb tracing the apple of her perfect cheek. Oh yes, she was absolutely perfect.

DC Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Join my taglist!

All works

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @alexxavicry @ravenwings73 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @silverfire475 @psychadelichues @mvyalx @Faefanatic @evansqueen54 @anamiad00msday @th3sloth @princess76179 @Lanielagenev @luvvvjada @Lucypaulette @midnight-shadow-va @mooniequeen @slutfor-fictionalmen @km-ffluv @black-rose-29 @minedofmoria

DC

@snedhdh @blackhawkfanatic @8bookishworm8 @honkytonkbabe @kobaltdragon  @amarillyssnowdrop

[chikaras-garden]

Dick Grayson corrupting Superman’s sidekick. There’s sooooo many rules that Clark has for you and so many rules for Dick to break…

✨new AU unlocked✨ meet kryptonian!reader

You press yourself up against Dick’s chest and watch as what you’re doing dawns on him: his lips part to make way for a breathy laugh, and his eyes light up with a sparkle that’s overjoyed, if defiant—and more than a little dangerous. His arm snakes around your waist, and he bends to press a kiss underneath your ear.

“Aw, look at you,” he teases in a voice that’s just a little mean. One of his hands comes up to toy with the ends of your hair. “Clark never lets you have what you need, huh?”

Quickly, his hand grasps the back of your costume’s skirt—what a thin, useless little swath of red fabric it is—and hikes it up your waist. That hand then palms your ass, and Dick groans at the feel of how sweet, how round, how innocent you are.

“Please,” you beg. You’re pent up. You know this. He knows this. Everyone can see the wildness in your eyes, the innermost feelings that Clark—your mentor—has trained you to control.

It’s for everyone else’s good. That’s our burden. Our sacrifice.

“Don’t beg me,” Dick chastises gently, shit-eating grin etched onto his lips. His fingers dance along your hip, crawling from your back to your front, then down the inside of your thigh. You buck your hips into his hand and he answers by pressing his palm against your sex, rubbing you over your panties.

You’re not supposed to do this. You’re not supposed to feel this. Dick is— He’s your teammate. He’s a human. You’re a bundle of raw power, so uncontrolled that even Clark worries about your ability to keep yourself in line. That’s why you’re not allowed to fight alone. That’s why he’s training you—

Dick’s teeth nipping at your earlobe shakes you free of your thoughts. You’re dizzy with the feeling of him acting like putty in your hands, begging you when you’re usually the one begging him.

“Just take what you want, angel,” he whispers. “Won’t it be fun to lose it a little? Use me however you want?”

[gatorbites-imagines]

So we all agree that Kryptonians can purr right? Humans just can't hear it but what about viltrumites? They also have heightened sense right, so theoretically they should be able to hear it.

Now imagine Kryptonian!reader with the petcvincibles, like come on, they'd crave that!!!!!

I like to think they can hear it, in a strange way. Like, viltrumites have better hearing than humans I think, and if they couldn't physically hear it, then they'd feel the vibrations somehow. Like, straight up feels the soundwave vibrations. Would also notice how they become so much more calm when Kryptonian reader is at peace, cuz the readers purring acts like cat purring.

If they could hear it no problem, then they'd want to make the reader purr more and more cuz, first, it's a sign that you are pleased (with life, with them, with the situation), and two, it's like nonverbal praise right? It's a confirmation that they're doing something right and you like them.

They all fight on who gets to lay on the readers chest when he's purring cuz they all wanna just smush their face into the readers pecs (or between them) and just zone out, completely turn their brains off and just enjoy the purring like a brain massage.

Readers purring would reach all of them if they're all in the same room, but laying on his chest is just the best seat, ya know?

I like to think reader purrs to comfort them too, when they get worked up or way too murderous, then holding the vincible and purring a lil bit gets him outta that headspace, somewhat.

On another note. I've been thinking about giving the vincibles belly rubs and chin scratches all day. Sighs dreamily.

[witherby]

is Conner magically linked to mouse somehow or is he so obsessed with them because there the first one he talked to beside lex luthor

Fantastic question! Conner has imprinted on Flittermouse!

I'm kinda sneaking in soulmate dynamics here a teeny bit, in the sense that Kryptonians' mating instincts have them search for partners with appealing biochemical markers to latch on to (usually for purposes of procreation, but obviously as they're both still minors that isn't playing a factor here). They also mate for life, so if they find an ideal match and imprint on them, chances of imprinting again are near zero.

Conner's biological instincts latched onto Mouse as a Great Match, and his body is responding in kind. He's found someone he desires, and now he has to win their favor in whatever manner his Kryptonian biology demands. He is becoming attuned to mouse so that his body knows where they are, how they're doing, and how he can best accommodate and protect them.

His body is in love even though he doesn't quite know what's going on yet.

[invincibledc]

“Question, what do you love your super for?”

TT!Robin: I love my super because of how he’s always there for me.

TTG!Robin: I love my super because he’s the best boyfriend I have!

YJ!Robin: I love my super for his determination to save others.

Injustice!Dick: I loved my husband, and always will for his kind soul.

The robins look at Nightwing concerned.

“You sound like he died—”

“He did.”

The robins:

[v-killallspiders]

HEIR TO THE STARS

Mark Grayson x Kryptonian!Reader

PROLOGUE: THE ARRIVAL

16 years ago

The rain fell in relentless sheets around Cecil, drenching his suit, giving it a heavy, uncomfortable weight that clung to him like a second-skin. But that was the least of the man’s worries right now. It had only been a few years since their first alien had arrived, Nolan. Just thinking about the enigmatic man made Cecil want to bang his head against a wall. Nolan was a big ball of muscled contradictions that Cecil still wasn’t quite sure how to deal with. He didn’t think he’d ever be ready for the day Omni-Man decided he’d had enough of playing house. 

Cecil was knocked back into the present by the quiet sound of a baby cooing as one of his soldiers climbed out the sizable crater with a baby in his arms.

“Jesus Christ Donald, what the fuck am I looking at,” he rubbed at his furrowed brows aggressively with one hand, the other firmly planted on his hip.

“A baby, sir. An alien baby,” Donald replied from Cecil’s side. 

It had only been a few years since their first alien had arrived, unshakeable and firm. Now their second had come in the form of a baby, small and hopeful. 

Cecil took small, unsure steps towards the soldier still cradling the baby. When he was toe-to-toe with the soldier he simply stared. She was so small, reaching fat chubby fingers out to him. He reached out with tentative fingers towards her own small ones, his posture softening the moment she grabbed onto him with that tight grip most toddlers are known for.

“Y/N,” he simply said as he continued to stare down at her cooing form.

“Sir..?,” Donald awkwardly asked as he leaned over Cecil’s shoulder to get a better look at the child

“Her name,” the older man explained, an unreadable expression on his face, “Her name is Y/N.”

[mintyys-blog]

LITTLE SECRET | tim drake x kryptonian! reader

DC COMICS MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: implied sex, sexual themes,

Gotham was quiet for once. Too quiet for Red Robin’s liking, but perfect for the kind of rendezvous he found himself craving lately.

Perched on a rooftop ledge, Tim scanned the dim streets below. All clear. No muggers, no gang activity, just the distant hum of city life. He exhaled through his nose, preparing to move on—until a sudden gust of wind swept past his cape.

“I thought I’d find you here,” came a familiar voice—soft, teasing, wrapped in velvet and steel.

He turned, lips already curling into a smirk. “Y/N…”

She hovered just a few feet off the ground before landing beside him with the grace only a Kryptonian could pull off. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, the faint city lights dancing in them like stars. Her boots made no sound against the gravel rooftop as she stepped in close, gloved fingers tugging gently at the hem of his cape.

“You on patrol tonight?” she asked, voice low—like a secret just for him.

“Supposed to be,” he murmured, hands already finding their place at her waist, the warmth of her body seeping through her suit and into his palms. He tugged her closer, until there was no space left between them. “But now…”

Now his pulse was racing. Now the weight of the cowl, the mission, the silence of Gotham’s night—none of it mattered. Not with her this close. Not when she was looking at him like that.

They kissed—hungrily, messily, a crash of urgency and need. The world melted away as her lips moved against his, the taste of her leaving him dizzy. His hands roamed her back, fingers dragging along the curve of her spine as hers tangled in his hair, dragging him down to her level, grounding him even as he felt like floating.

She pushed him back against the rooftop wall with just a little too much strength, and he grunted, half-laughing into the kiss. “Easy,” he breathed against her mouth, eyes half-lidded. “You’ll break my ribs.”

“Maybe I like you a little fragile,” she teased, her voice breathy, her mouth moving to his jaw, to the curve of his neck.

Her hands slipped beneath his suit, fingertips tracing over warm skin, and he groaned—quiet, needy. Gotham buzzed somewhere below them, but right now, they were on another planet entirely.

He tugged at her suit’s collar, enough to press a kiss to the exposed skin of her shoulder. She shivered—not from cold, but from the heat of it, from the way he looked at her like he was starving. Her gloved fingers slid under the edge of his belt, and he caught her wrist, both of them breathless now.

“Someone’s feeling bold,” he rasped.

“You like it.”

He didn’t deny it.

Clothes were shifted just enough—strategic, practiced. This wasn’t the first time. It wouldn’t be the last. The rooftop behind the old Gotham bank had become their place. Their stolen piece of sky.

Breath hitched, gasps muffled by lips and hands and urgency. Fingers fumbled in the dark, finding each other like magnets. She lifted him with barely any effort, just enough to make him curse under his breath, lips dragging along her collarbone, his hands gripping her thighs like a lifeline.

And in the middle of a city that never slept, in the middle of the night’s quiet, they made time stand still.

For just a moment, Gotham felt a little less heavy. A little less cold. And Tim forgot everything else. Forgot the comms in his ear. Forgot the mission. Forgot the city.

Until the sharp screech of tires and the distant wail of an alarm pulled him back like a slap to the face.

BANG—SCREECH—ALARM.

Tim pulled back fast, still panting, eyes wide with realization. “Shit,” he hissed, tugging his suit back into place. “That sounded like—”

“A robbery,” Y/N finished, biting her lip, instantly guilty.

He kissed her quickly, almost chastely this time. “I have to go.”

And he was gone.

When he reached the street, the van was already disappearing around the corner, jewels glinting inside as they drove off. Tim stared after them, clenching his fists.

Y/N floated down beside him a moment later. “I’m sorry, Tim—I didn’t think—”

“I should’ve thought,” he cut her off, voice low with frustration. “How could I be so reckless?”

Just then, his comms crackled to life.

“Red Robin.” Barbara’s voice was cool and professional. “We just got an alert. Jewelry store on 10th. Smash and grab. Van matching the suspect’s description just peeled out heading west.”

He closed his eyes and muttered, “Copy,” but when he looked over his shoulder—she was gone.

Meanwhile…

The van didn’t get far.

A streak of red and blue tore through the air, and before the thieves could process the sound barrier breaking—BAM—they were airborne.

Y/N hovered above them, holding the back of the van with one hand before flipping it onto its roof like it weighed nothing. It crashed onto the pavement, smoking slightly, but intact. She flew down, slammed her palm into the side door, and crushed it inward, warping the metal.

“Try running now,” she muttered.

Then, as the Batmobile roared closer from down the street—she was gone, vanishing into the sky and hiding herself in the clouds, heart pounding.

From above, she watched Batman exit the vehicle, cape fluttering in the wind. He circled the van slowly, inspecting the warped side. His gloved fingers brushed over the dent—a very clear handprint.

Something powerful had done this.

He tilted his head back toward the sky, scanning the clouds with a glare sharpened by years of suspicion.

Red Robin dropped down seconds later.

“This was in your area,” Batman said coldly. “And you let it get this far?”

Tim didn’t flinch, but his jaw clenched tight. “I got distracted. Sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Batman nodded once, turning as police sirens approached.

But before stepping away, he added grimly, “Someone else stopped them. I want to know who.”

Morning in Gotham rarely felt peaceful. But in Tim Drake’s room—curtains drawn, the hum of the city dulled by thick glass—it almost felt like the world had paused.

He stirred in bed, muscles sore from patrol, the weight of last night’s guilt still lingering in his chest. His breath was slow, deep…until something soft brushed across his cheek. Then again. And again—like whispers of wind.

Lips.

He groaned softly, eyes fluttering open.

Hovering above him, practically glowing in the soft light breaking through the curtains, was her.

Straddling his hips, hair falling like a silk curtain around his face, and a mischievous grin pulling at her lips.

“Hello, handsome,” she giggled.

Tim blinked, a breathy laugh escaping him despite himself. “You mischievous girl—”

He sat up fast, flipping her easily onto her back with a smooth twist, her laugh muffled as she hit the mattress beneath him. He kissed her before she could say another word, long and slow and grounding. Her hands slid around his neck, pulling him deeper into it.

But eventually, reluctantly, he pulled back—resting his forehead against hers.

“Thanks, by the way,” he murmured, voice thick with sleep. “For stopping the robbery.”

She smoothed his hair back gently, running her fingers through the dark strands with that same teasing fondness. But her eyes softened.

“Don’t thank me,” she said quietly. “You could’ve done it before it even happened. I…” Her voice dropped a little. “I distracted you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Tim’s gaze lingered on her face, her guilt evident in the tiny crease between her brows.

“Hey.” He cupped her cheek, thumb brushing her skin. “We got distracted. It wasn’t just you.”

“But you’re the one who had to answer to Batman,” she whispered, eyes flicking away. “I can fly off and vanish. You don’t get that.”

Tim sighed and rolled to the side, lying beside her, one arm slung over her stomach. “Yeah, well… you also don’t get yelled at through comms at 2AM by Barbara.“

“Ouch, yeah you have it worse, boy wonder.” She smiled a little at that, but it didn’t reach her eyes all the way.

“I just hate that I made your job harder,” she said. “You’re already carrying so much. And then I show up all flirty and…” She trailed off, embarrassed now.

Tim turned toward her, fingers lacing with hers.

“You make it better,” he said. “Even if last night was a mess. You—you make the weight feel lighter. I’d take a thousand distractions if it meant waking up to you.”

Her lips parted slightly, surprised by the softness in his voice.

“…Damn,” she murmured. “You trying to make me cry?”

He smirked, nose brushing against hers. “Just trying to beat you to it.”

They kissed again, slower this time, the heat of the night before replaced by something warmer. Something real. And even as the city outside stirred with chaos and noise, in that moment, in that room, it felt like they had a little slice of peace.

The Batcave was silent, save for the rhythmic tapping of keys and the occasional low beep of data processing. Screens flickered with footage—grainy security cam clips, satellite captures, audio logs. And front and center: a freeze-frame of the flipped van from the jewelry robbery.

Bruce stood in front of the monitor, arms folded, gaze sharp beneath the cowl.

The handprint. It was clear. Too clear.

Not a weapon. Not an explosive. A dent shaped by raw power—five fingers pressed deep into reinforced steel like it was wet clay. There were only a few beings capable of that. And most weren’t exactly subtle.

He enlarged the image, rotated it. Finger length. Spacing. Width. Not as wide as Clark’s. Smaller. More refined. He ran a scan, cross-referencing it with their metahuman database.

No match.

But something nagged at him. A pattern. A frequency.

He played back the nearby traffic cams—footage from five blocks out. A faint blur zipped through one frame. Red cape. Blue suit. Female frame.

He narrowed his eyes.

Super-speed. Flight. Precision.

He brought up a different feed—citywide communications. Someone had scrambled comm frequencies for exactly six seconds the moment the robbery happened. Interference coming from the same quadrant as the blur.

He tapped his comm. “Barbara.”

“Yeah?” she replied quickly, already typing.

“Pull footage from the upper west traffic drone. Forty seconds before and after the robbery alert. Also pull any recent sightings of unidentified metahuman flight signatures in Gotham over the last 72 hours.”

“On it. You thinking Kryptonian?”

He didn’t answer right away. “…I’m thinking someone’s hiding something.”

Later that night. Batcave.

Tim was suiting up for a routine patrol when Bruce stepped into the cave.

“You’re late,” Tim noted without turning. “Didn’t know you needed the Batmobile to be fashionable.”

But Bruce didn’t smile.

Instead, he stepped up beside Tim and wordlessly handed him a tablet. Tim glanced at it—then froze.

The footage. The van. The dent. The blur. His heart climbed into his throat. “…Where did you get this?” he asked carefully.

“Gotham’s traffic surveillance.” Bruce’s voice was low, unreadable. “Care to explain why someone with Kryptonian powers is operating in my city—without permission?”

Tim looked away, buying time, brain scrambling. “Could be someone passing through. You know how many metas drift through Gotham now.”

Bruce’s silence was damning.

“…You’re not going to tell me,” he said at last.

Tim’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. He couldn’t throw her under the bus. Not when she’d fixed his mistake. Not when she was his.

Bruce’s eyes narrowed just a little.

“This person intervened in your area. After you failed to intercept a robbery that should’ve been easy to stop. You claimed distraction. Now I’m wondering what that distraction really was.”

Tim’s jaw flexed.

“I handled it.”

Bruce stepped closer, lowering his voice to a warning.

“If someone is operating outside of protocol in Gotham—hiding their identity, interfering with operations, compromising my operatives—then I need to know who they are.”

Tim met his eyes. Tense. Steady. “I’ll find out.”

Bruce studied him a moment longer. Then, with the barest nod, he turned and walked back into the shadows.

Up in the clouds, just beyond Wayne Manor’s detection range, Y/N hovered.

She was high above the skyline, suspended in silence, the cold wind teasing the ends of her hair. From up here, the world looked small. Lights twinkled like embers across Gotham’s sprawling darkness. The city never slept—but now, neither could she.

Her ears still rang with Bruce’s voice—cold, clipped, lethal with suspicion.

“Care to explain why someone with Kryptonian powers is operating in my city—without permission?”

“This person intervened in your area. After you failed to intercept a robbery that should’ve been easy to stop. You claimed distraction. Now I’m wondering what that distraction really was.”

Y/N shut her eyes tight, hovering still despite the wind. The guilt felt heavier than any collapsing building she could lift. Her breath puffed into the night air as she stared downward, past the shifting cloud cover, toward Wayne Manor’s distant silhouette.

She’d thought she was being careful. She always moved fast, blurred her image, changed her path. She’d even scrambled comms when she flew too close to tech hubs. But it hadn’t been enough.

Of course it wasn’t. It was Batman. He missed nothing. And now… now he was circling like a hawk. She could feel it. Hear it in the way his voice lost all warmth. In the questions he asked Tim. In the pause between his words—like he already knew.

She pressed a hand to her chest. Her heart thundered. Not from thrill. Not from love. From fear.

He’s looking for me. And worse— He’s suspicious of Tim.

That thought made her breath hitch. He was caught in the middle. Still protecting her. Still lying for her. He didn’t give her up—not even when it would’ve been easier. And he’d looked so calm on the surface, but she knew him. She saw the storm behind his eyes.

He was carrying her mistake on his back.

The very idea of Bruce turning on him—of questioning Tim’s loyalty—sank into her stomach like a lead weight.

She drifted back, pulling deeper into the clouds, hiding herself from view. Her cape rippled behind her, caught on the updraft, but her body felt heavier than steel.

The fear clawed deeper into her now, sharper than the night air.

She wasn’t scared of a fight. She wasn’t scared of Bruce. She was scared of what this could cost.

Tim.

And she wasn’t sure how many more mistakes he’d be able to cover before the Bat stopped asking and started hunting.

Later that night, just before dawn painted Gotham in gray, Tim returned to his room through the window. His limbs were sore, his mind a blur of exhaustion and pressure. Every patrol lately felt heavier—each step watched, each breath measured.

He peeled off the last of his suit, tossing the cowl onto his desk.

That’s when he saw it.

A folded note, sitting neatly in the center of his pillow. Weighted down with something familiar—one of her gloves. Her scent still clung faintly to it, soft and sweet and gone.

His breath caught. He unfolded the note slowly.

Tim,

I’m sorry. I heard what he said. I heard everything. I didn’t mean to make things worse for you… but I have. You’re already under enough pressure, and now you’re caught between protecting Gotham and protecting me.

So I’m doing the only thing I can think of that feels right. I’m going back to my city. Just for a little while. Let things cool off. Let him stop looking over your shoulder. Let you breathe without worrying who’s watching.

We should take a break. Not because I want to… but because I care too much to stay and risk making this worse. You deserve peace. Even if it means I don’t get to be part of it right now. If you want me again—if you still want this—just say the word. I’ll be there before you can blink.

I’m sorry.

Yours always, even from afar,

—Y/N

Tim sat down hard on the edge of his bed, the glove in his hand now clenched tightly in his fist.

The silence in the room felt endless. He didn’t move for a long time. He just stared at the note, jaw clenched, eyes burning.

The Batcave was colder than usual that night.

Tim stood at the base of the main platform, watching as Bruce reviewed data from the flipped van robbery for the third time. There was nothing new. Just repetition. Just waiting—for a lie to collapse or a truth to surface.

Tim stepped forward.

“I need to tell you something.”

Bruce didn’t look away from the screen. “Then say it.”

Tim took a slow breath. “The one who stopped the robbery. The one with the handprint.” He hesitated—but only for a second. “It was Y/N.”

Now Bruce looked at him.

“She’s Kryptonian,” Tim continued, voice even. “She’s been flying into Gotham at night. Sometimes to help. Mostly to see me.” His jaw tensed. “We’ve been… seeing each other. In secret.”

The cave was dead silent.

“I was with her that night. I got distracted. I chose her instead of staying focused. That robbery happened because I wasn’t doing my job.” His voice lowered. “She tried to fix it. But it should’ve never gotten that far.”

He lifted his chin. “If you want to bench me, I get it. I crossed a line.”

A long silence stretched out between them. Bruce’s expression unreadable, arms crossed.

Finally, he said:

“I figured.”

Tim blinked. “Wait—what?”

Bruce turned back to the monitor, voice casual—too casual. “You’ve been more tired lately. Unfocused. Coming back with a pulse high enough to suggest either combat… or something else.” He glanced at Tim, a flicker of dry amusement in his eyes. “You’re not exactly subtle.”

Tim’s mouth opened slightly. “So… you knew?”

“I suspected.” Bruce turned back to the data. “I just wanted to see if you’d admit it.”

Tim felt like the ground had dropped out beneath him. He braced for a lecture, a command, something.

But instead— Bruce sighed. “You’re not the first to get close to someone who operates outside protocol.”

Tim tilted his head. “…Are you saying you’re okay with it?”

“I’m saying I understand it.” His voice sharpened slightly. “But don’t mistake understanding for approval. You took a risk that jeopardized your mission. You’re lucky no one got hurt. You won’t always be.”

Tim nodded, absorbing every word.

“She’s gone for now,” he said quietly. “She left… because she didn’t want me to keep covering for her. Didn’t want to make it worse.”

Bruce looked at him again. “Then you’re both smarter than I gave you credit for.”

Tim let out a breath—part relief, part something else. Regret, maybe. Longing.

“She’ll come back,” he said, more to himself than anything.

Bruce just gave a short nod, already refocusing on the next crisis lighting up the screens.

“Then next time,” he said without looking at him, “don’t make me ask.”

It had been a week. Seven long days since her note. Seven nights on patrol without her shadow soaring overhead. Seven mornings waking up alone, reaching across cold sheets out of habit.

Tim couldn’t take it anymore.

He hadn’t messaged her. Hadn’t tried to pull her back before he was ready. But now—after the conversation with Bruce, after finally saying it aloud—something in him settled. He didn’t want to hide. Didn’t want to wait. Didn’t want her to think even for a second that she wasn’t worth fighting for.

He made the trip just after dusk. Civilian clothes, hood up, eyes sharp behind civilian lenses. The train ride out of Gotham was quiet, uneventful—but his fingers tapped a steady rhythm on the seat the whole time.

When he reached her city, he didn’t waste time.

He didn’t need to search the skyline. He already knew where she’d be.

He climbed to the rooftop of the tallest building in the city—her favorite place to perch when she wanted to think, or hide, or sulk. The same rooftop where she’d once brought him after a patrol, where they’d laid together above the clouds and just breathed.

And there she was.

Hovering just above the edge, her cape catching the wind, arms folded as she looked out over the horizon.

Tim stepped forward.

“I didn’t bring flowers,” he said softly.

She turned.

Eyes wide, lips parted. A dozen emotions flickered across her face all at once—shock, guilt, love, fear, hope.

“Tim—”

“I figured I’d show up instead,” he said, offering a small, crooked smile. “Thought that might mean more.”

She landed, feet touching down gently. But she didn’t move closer.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, voice tight. “What if—what if Batman changes his mind? What if he—”

“I told him.”

Her breath hitched.

“I told him everything. About us. About that night. About how I chose you.”

She stared at him, mouth trembling. “And he didn’t…? He didn’t bench you? Or yell? Or—?”

“He said he figured.”

She blinked. “What?”

Tim took a step closer. “Apparently, I’m not as subtle as I thought.”

That got the faintest laugh out of her. A fragile little sound that melted into a sniffle as her eyes welled up.

“I didn’t want to mess things up for you,” she whispered. “You love Gotham. You love the mission. And I just—I love you, and I didn’t know how to balance that.”

He reached her now, taking her hand, curling his fingers through hers.

“You don’t have to balance it alone,” he said softly. “We’re a team. And I want that again. If you’ll let me.”

She looked up at him, eyes shining. “You drove all the way here to say that?”

He smirked. “Train, actually. Wanted to make a dramatic entrance. Failed miserably.”

She laughed again, this time real and bright, throwing her arms around him.

He caught her, held her tight, burying his face into her neck. “I missed you,” she breathed against his skin.

“I know,” he whispered. “I missed me too.” She flicked his arm, spending a spike of pain. He laughed through the pain, “I’m joking. I miss you too.”

She pulled back just enough to kiss him—long and deep, the kind of kiss that made the air crackle between them again. The city below faded away, and for a moment, all that mattered was the warmth in their chests and the quiet promise between them:We’re back.

[chikaras-garden]

Just thought of something and it can be with any of the bat boys

Right, so they're fucking in a risky place, and reader is trying to be quiet. And one of the batboys says "I don't want you to be quiet. I wanna here ever single fucking noise that's comes from those pretty lips"

-🌟

“Any bat boy” = Dick = I got sooooo carried away. 🌟 you're such a genius omg

You thought you’d like galas. You’ve never been to one, but what you imagined was nothing short of the fairy tales and princess stories humans are so fond of—and, admittedly, you’ve kind of grown attached to.

But, well. You’re wobbly on your feet, uncoordinated when you’re usually so sure and graceful, and entirely at the mercy of the man who invited you to the Wayne Foundation Gala.

“Dick,” you murmur, tugging on the sleeve covering to the arm you’re perched on. He hums in reply, barely glancing at you; his free hand is buried in his pocket, and your breath catches when you realize what he’s doing.

The dizzying heat in your mind backs off for just a second, and the lack of sensation between your thighs brings feeling back to your legs. You let out a shaky breath and lean your head on his shoulder, then close your eyes when a gentle hand rubs against your lower back.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?” he murmurs as if he’s not the one who, just an hour ago, fingered you open and stuffed a remote vibrator inside you, then made you dress for the gala and pretend everything is fine while he held the controls in his pocket.

“I can’t,” you whimper, trying to conceal your distress from the judgy wives with way too much influence that flit around you like wasps.

His lips brush against your hairline. It’s innocent, like a man who’s endearingly infatuated with his beautiful date—but you know better. “Can’t what?”

“Be here,” you press, annoyed that he’s being so purposefully obtuse. But if you’re so annoyed, why are your pussy lips clinging to the toy, fluttering and kissing the silicone as if you’re desperate for more stimulation, not less. “I can’t not— I can’t be quiet, Dick.”

Incredulously, he raises a brow, and his eyes are sharp and dangerous—but still safe and comforting. He challenges you with, “I don’t want you to be quiet.”

“But—”

He leans in and kisses just behind your ear, taking his public display of affection just a little further; behind you, you think you hear someone coo at the adorable couple.

The toy leaps to life again and you gasp, twisting yourself to hide as much of your face as you can in Dick’s neck—where you feel him chuckle. He’s holding you with one hand, steady and strong, but you know that his other hand is responsible for your slow torture.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, low and dark. “Let me hear you. I want to hear every single noise that comes from those pretty lips. You can do that for me, can’t you, pretty girl?”

[gatorbites-imagines]

the idea of an alternate mark/multiple of them trying to attack a kryptonian reader (or even just. A reader that’s stronger than them) and just . breaking their hands absolutely kills me,,, seemingly normal human guy just standing there while the marks are just punching him like he’s a wall - he’s safe even before he pet-ifies them

Alternate Marks (Petvincibles) x kryptonian male reader 

Headcanons 

I just thought this scenario was really funny, so I decided to cook up a more solid thing for it. 

Imagine, you are a powerful kryptonian villain from the DC universe. You have obviously built a resistance to kryptonite and other kryptonian weaknesses, you are unstoppable. 

Or well, you should have been. In the end, Kal-El and his justice league defeat you with the power of friendship. 

Kal-El, being the kindhearted man he is, offers to let you serve your punishment in a different universe if you behave. This might also be because you are one of the few kryptonians left, so he doesn't want you to die or anything. 

In the end his passion, kindness and sunny personality makes you see the light, as villains tend to do. You agree to serve out your sentence in a different universe,  

The universe you end up being sent to, is the one from invincible, since it has nothing to do with the people you are used too. 

Batman helped you set up a fake identity before you crossed over, ironclad enough that even the GDA would never think it was fake. 

Ironically, you settle down as a journalist. It's a bit embarrassing in the beginning that you end up doing the same thing as Kal-El, but you swallow your pride and just live a normal human life. 

Sure, you could have helped save this planet and many lives, but, you weren't Kal-El, you felt no need to defend anyone or anything. Even when your sensitive hearing picked up on the guardians being killed, you did nothing. 

Not your circus, not your monkeys. You enjoyed your (retirement) punishment too much. 

You were enjoying your day off when the chuckleheads showed up through their portals.  

You had just gotten out of your shower, put on some comfy sweats and a t-shirt, ready to munch down on takeout and watch horrible reality tv, when your telenovela changed to the news instead. 

Normally, you would just have left it alone. Other heroes would take care of it, like always. And it would have stayed that way, until you watched this cadmus suit wearing fucker destroy your workplace. 

Luckily it was the bimonthly “nobody is in the building” day, so there was no one inside, but still, that was your job dude. 

When the news showed all of these numbnuts, and you saw just how the usual heroes were getting broken left and right, you realized you might have to step in. 

No way you were gonna let these guys destroy your retirement. You still owned your old suit, the one the justice league had beat you in, but you felt no need to put it on for this. 

This was simply you disciplining a group of brats, no need to take it too seriously. 

You were faster, stronger, bigger, sturdier, everything they could dream of being, so obviously you reach one of them first.  

This one just happened to look like a bee, or a wasp. And he seemed so entertained by your presence, his very energy grated your nerves, acting like he was sure to win and that this was all a mild inconvenience. 

That is, until he threw a punch and you didn't move, tired and bored expression on your face. 

Sinister had assumed this would be easy, just another useless fool to punch a hole through. Well, it would have been, if his fist didn't shatter when it met your chest. 

A shocked guttural yell pulls him his chest as he feels his arm break all the way up to his elbow, just from punching you with all his might. It left Sinister feeling shocked for a moment, and a moment was all you needed to beat him. 

Past you would have killed him, but Kal-el had been so serious about you growing as a person and being better, so you just... tuck him under your arm and fly off for the next invincible. 

It wouldn't take long for the GDA and public to notice their attackers being taken out, by a guy in sweatpants and a hello kitty shirt of all things too. 

Normal Mark would immediately tense, ready to fight even if he knows he wouldn't stand a chance after seeing you take out all his alternate selves so quickly and easily. 

“Relax, I'm retired” you tell him, holding a hand out as if to comfort him. Mark doesn't really know what to do with you, seeing someone so fucking strong just... chilling. You could clearly have beat his dad, so why didn't you? 

“didn't feel like it” you shrug. Then why take out these guys? “Destroyed my favorite coffee shop and my workplace” 

The GDA obviously want you to hand over the alternate Marks, where you just bark a laugh in their face. “Yeah right. I know what you government folk do to people like them”. So, you end up bringing all the vincibles back to your place. 

This is probably also the best place they can do, since you are the only one able to contain them. 

When they wake up, they are obviously gonna attack you again, from wounded pride or whatever else they might be experiencing. You easily keep up, beating them down again and again until they are mellowed out. 

You also give them the whole speech Kal-El gave you, about being better and whatever. The speech isn't what slowly turns them, but rather just you in general. 

Maybe its viltrumite biology to be into people who are stronger, or it's because you are such a strong figure, but they start to become “pet-ified” as we say. 

Chances are, you still have contact with the justice league, who helps you offer all the Marks ways into other universes where they can start afresh, and be heroes. But they all decide to stick with you instead as they have grown attached, like feral tomcats. 

GDA isn't happy about it obviously, but what the hell are they gonna do about it? Normal Mark wouldn't be happy about it either, but he would at least just kinda grow to accept it over time. 

Luckily for you, nobody really noticed or got your face on camera when you picked the vincibles up either, so you are able to return to work a while later.  

All is swell, but your apartment, and earth itself, is starting to feel stuffy. Maybe it's finally time to leave the planet and start exploring the galaxy, and you have a feeling the vincibles would follow if you did. Except of course, the original one, perhaps.  

[arjudy224]

The Intern: Outreach Gala

Another uneventful day for Gotham's environmental intern...

The Intern: Gotham x reader

Prequel: Death of a family

The Intern: Day one

The Intern: The Laughing Fish

The Intern Field Trip

The Intern: Busy Work

The Intern: Outreach Gala

The Intern: Teachers Pet

The Intern: Visiting an old friend

The Intern: Chemical Valley

The Intern: Billionaire Boys Club

Gotham's public library appears unrecognizable under the cloak of night. Broad leaves shroud the outside exterior of the Gothic pillars while ivy cascades down the large door frames. Harris raises an eyebrow.

"How many forests do you think Wayne destroyed in his quest to save the planet?" He questions with a smirk.

Each grey hair is perfectly gelled out of his face. Ditching his glasses for the occasion, Dr. Harris may actually care about tonight's guests. The bouncer outside the door seemed to think the dress code was not a laughing matter.

Taking his extended arm, I roll my eyes. The security guy nods to the two of us as we walk through the door.

"Professor, if you keep saying things like that Gordon's going to question your stances on Gotham's resident Eco-terrorist. " I whisper with a smile. "....but at least 12."

Thanks to the joint collaboration between Wayne Industries, Goth-corp, and the Gotham Department of Environmental Protection. Gotham City is hosting its first Environmental Outreach Gala for the nearby tri-state area.

My heart flutters a little bit as a realization hits me. I’m actually here… surrounded by giants in clean energy and the scientific community alike. Award-winning journalists... All for the future of our planet. Passing my reflection, I smile thinking of how far I’ve come from that little river rat back at home.

A figure in the corner of my eye draws my thoughts away from the Grandma debrief. Dick Grayson, the Billionaire’s son, charms the group of ladies by his side. I take a mental note to find time to talk to him when there isn’t such a big crowd. It's been a long time since we last spoke.

The walls echo with the idle chatter coming from the rich socialites of Gotham. Waiters in tuxedos maneuver silently with a tray of champagne flutes in each hand. Considering, that most environmental professionals wear cargo pants from the early 2000s to work... the dress code was definitely a choice. I scan the room for familiar faces. Gordon flashes me a smile from across the room. I nod back. The Mayor works his way around the room with a large smile. It must be an election year.

My throat gets tight. I'm not ready for this. Looking to my right, I find that Dr. Harris has vanished into the crowd.

"Y/N L/N?" A voice calls distracting me from my nerves.

A well-dressed man strolls over. Something about him puts me on edge. Maybe it's his wicked smile or the large emerald ring on his outstretched hand. He walks with an easy air of confidence.

"Lex Luthor."

My heart does a little tap dance in my chest. The tight fabric of my rental dress makes it hard to breathe. I shake his hand politely. The party-goers go quiet around us. From the corner of my eye, Lois Lane, an investigative reporter from Metropolis, shoves through the crowd. So much for being a fly on the wall.

"I recently worked with a Professor of yours. She had a lot to say about your graduate proposal."

This cannot be happening. Memories of those long fights in the lab flash in the back of my mind. Mr. Luthor's cat-like gaze observes my reaction curiously.

I cover my face in embarrassment. That woman deserves hate mail. I could have at least been asked to type or spell-check it beforehand.

"To be frank, I originally chose the topic to get a rise outta her. Dr. Hendrix had me doing dishes for 3 weeks straight after I accidentally messed up a sample, so I wrote a proposal I knew she wouldn't like."

When I finally uncover my face, Luthor stares down at me with an amused grin.

"Even so. I'd like to discuss potential funding opportunities in Metropolis. If this is something you would think up out of boredom, I'd love to see what you can do when you put your mind to it."

That brings a smile to my face.

"Really? Everyone who I've brought it up to has been apprehensive about researching Kryptionian radiation.

"We need more scientists to ask questions Ms. L/N. Even the ones, that people don't want to know the answer to. "

The sullen green glow draws my eye once again to Mr. Luthor's ring finger... Wait, that's not an emerald. That's Kryptonite.

"Is this a personal interest of yours?" I ask slowly glancing between his eyes and his ring.

"In some ways."

An unspoken conversation occurs when he notices my acknowledgement of his strange choice of jewelry. The silence only creates more questions. Why would you wear something you know is irradiated?

"I hope to hear from you soon." Mr. Luthor concludes after handing me a business card, "There is always a spot at Lexcorp for a future scientist with your talents."

I stand there in silence watching him leave. The sleek modern design of the card lists only the bare essentials: his name, office address, and contact information in silver lettering.

Four hours ago, I was hauling boxes for the decorating committee. Huh. A nearby waiter offers a champagne flute from the tray. Respectfully, I turn them down. This dress costs more than my rent.

“Oh no. Thank you. I am… working.”

"Does work-life balance not apply to interns?” A voice interrupts.

I try not to roll my eyes at the "intern" comment. The constant reminders of my status are getting old. Starting at his perfectly buffed dress shoes, my gaze drags along the fabric of his black designer suit. Dick Grayson sure does like to make an entrance. With his dark curls and friendly blue eyes, his familiar smile knocks over my defenses. Sipping on his drink, he waits for my response with a teasing grin. His energy is contiguous. I ignore his question to ask my own instead.

“Has anyone told you that you tend to appear out of nowhere?”

His striking eyes light up with a mischievous glint.

“You have no idea.” He laughs, "It's nice to see you back in Gotham. It's been a long time."

"It has. From the rumors, you have been up to quite a bit of trouble." I joke gesturing to the envious eyes from across the room.

He raises a curious eyebrow.

“Good things I hope?”

Glancing around the room, I ignore the dozen eyes staring daggers in my direction. Academia can be such a bitch.

“Nothing too crazy: a few murders, unfounded accusations, and you might be an alien?”

Dick grimaces while tilting his head ever so slightly. He swirls his drink, yet doesn't take a sip.

“Sounds about right. Anything you believe? “

I pause... Do I play coy?

“I’m not sure an alien could do a quadruple summersault.”

Something flashes in his eyes that I don’t quite understand. For a moment, I wonder if I should have held my tongue. His suspicion morphs into the first genuine smile I've seen all evening.

“You’ve kept tabs on me Y/N.”

Before I can respond, a scream causes the ballroom to descend into chaos. Vines shoot out from under the floorboards while the native plants start attacking the guest. A woman with flaming red hair paces the floor. Her vines wrap around each person one by one…. A thorny bush springs out of a fallen leaf snagging my delicate rental dress.

Dammit Pamela. We talked about this.

Glancing at the bartender's horrified expression, I frown.

“I change my mind. I’ll have that drink now.”