(Banner courtesy of Batarella) This is where the blurbs go. Main Tumblr is @offendedfishnoises. I do a mix of reader inserts and OC shenanigans mostly set in DC. If you wanna suggest a character I could do, please send me any fics or canon references I could use. It will take me awhile so forgive me. Avatar is by symeona.
As for my banners, huge huge huge huge thanks to my wifey @littleredwing89. She is an amazing writer and an even more amazing person. Highly recommend reading her stuff and talking to her!
The banner for this masterlist is by @symeona (go check them out! They’re page is like an art gallery with great art but the visitors are on something I have yet to smoke.)
Adventures with Superman is literally everything I want in a Superman series.
A wholesome and down to earth take on a superman who is not only looks like a ton of bricks but is also a sweet cinnamon roll who has a genuine desire to help people no matter who they are.
I also looove how kind this version of superman has like one of the most kindest smiles I’ve seen in any iteration. Literally already becoming one of my fav interpretations of the character.
Three Times You forgot Your Glasses Plus the One Time Kon Remembered
Summary: Various things I’ve put my glasses through but with more Kon Kent involved.
a/n: In celebration of me getting my eyes checked after a year, here is a fic about glasses. Thanks to @glorified-red for the ideas and @littleredwing89 for proofreading and the banner
Warnings: Abuse of glasses
1: Monster Madness
You watch the blood splatter with mild disinterest, mind more concerned with the weird zig-zagging of the camera and the plethora of cheap-looking animatronics. You really should go to a theme park for Halloween. Or you could just get the animatronics. You did promise Bart to give him a heart attack after that incident during April Fools but... it's a Friday night and both you and the week are winding down so here you are flat on your stomach squinting at your laptop with your cheeky boyfriend.
"Heads up!" The man on screen says tossing a severed head.
"Someone has finally beaten you for the worst catchphrase of the year," Kon says.
You run a cold toe over his leg. "Suck this was not that bad." You grouse, earning you a snort from Kon.
"Leave the catchphrases to the professionals."
"Right," you say, looking back at the screen."Somehow our apartment is more cluttered than the horror mansion."
"Dunno what you mean," Kon mumbles, squishing his face to his arm.
You squint, "Did you miss the sock in the dishwasher or did I hallucinate that?"
"Vivid hallucination."
You squint at him even louder and Kon just hums at you.
"Ok," he sighs, angling his body towards you. "I may or may not have been less than sober."
You hum, "I think you were high on pixie sticks."
"Hey, sugar high is a real problem, gorgeous."
"Sure, it is." You giggle running a hand through his curly hair and brushing your thumb against his cheek. He's so warm and cute and the smile on his face makes your insides all fuzzy.
"Just keep watching the movie, doll," Kon says, kissing your wrist.
The movie prattles on getting more and more ridiculous as it goes on. You and Kon weren't really expecting quality but this was a different ball game.
"This looks like a lingerie commercial," you snicker.
"Is this not why you suggested this movie?"
"It most certainly is not," you huff as a child explodes on screen. A wire-y feeling takes over your body. You feel so light and airy. Your head is drifting away.
"You're going to fall asleep with your glasses on," Kon says, poking your cheek.
You nudge your foot to his as you knock your head lightly against his shoulder. Your lids feel heavy. A yawn rolls off your lips as if the concept of tiredness and sleep did not exist until Kon had spoken it into existence.
You blink slowly mind focusing on light smudges on the lenses. You're not particularly forgetful, not really. You're just tangled with your neurons all firing in 7 different directions, 14 if you're on the cusp of sleep, and none of them ever seem to register that your eyesight isn't actually worth a damn. You tilt your head, squishing your face into Kon's hand. "Just remind me then."
"What if I forget?" Kon asks, tangling his leg with yours. His hand threads through your hair and the warm pressure of it makes your eyelids feel even heavier.
You blow out a breath. "The world will explode." You boop Kon's nose for effect.
Kon grins, delicately wrapping his hand around yours and kissing your fingers. "Guess I better not forget, huh gorgeous?"
"Mhmm."
Kon's not entirely sure when he'd fallen asleep or who'd fallen asleep first. He opens his eyes to see your face illuminated but the changing colors of the screen, a scene he can barely make out reflected on your glasses which are now smudged and crooked on your face. You are incurably adorable.
"Babe," Kon whispers softly, rubbing your back.
You moan and squeeze your eyes tighter.
Kon looks at the clock and winces. "Babe, it’s 1 AM." He kisses the crown of your head and shakes your shoulder.
"Then why are you awake?" You ask, still not opening your eyes.
Your face is squooshed into your arm while your hand is intertwined with his. Kon curses himself for not charging his phone. Maybe he can use yours but that meant getting up and letting go of your hand.
"Your glasses are still on."
"How else am I supposed to see my dreams?"
"Pfff, you’re a nerd you know that, right?" Kon kisses your nose.
Your nose scrunches. "Hnnnnnn, sounds like your type. Now go back to sleep."
Kon lets out a soundless laugh. "Lemme just..." He takes off your glasses, very careful not to jostle you too much. He folds your glasses neatly on your laptop and uses his tactile kinesis to move both.
He pulls you into his chest as he closes his eyes.
2: Kiss in the Rain
"I'm just gonna get a quick shower before we go!"
"Quick means I can sneak in a two-hour nap," Kon says, plopping on the couch.
You click your teeth and stick your tongue out at him from the door.
He burrows into the blanket you'd left there the night before. "Wake me when you’re ready." He says smugly but annoyingly endearing.
"Or I could just leave you and grab brunch with the others."
"You would never."
"Pretty confident aren't you?" You narrow your eyes at him.
"Yeah," he says smiling into the soft fabric, "cus it's my turn to pay."
You purse your lips and try your best to death glare at him.
He hums waiting for your undoubtedly witty response
.
"I won’t be long," You huff, throwing your shorts in his face.
Kon waves the shorts like a flag. "I'll be waiting, Babe!"
You loudly stop into the room, your footsteps sounding wet against the hardwood floor.
Kon yawns and stretches, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "What’s wrong, doll?" He has to slap his hand on his mouth when he sees you.
You pad around the room with your obviously drenched glasses, feeling for your glasses cleaner.
"You forgot again, huh?" He snickers helpfully.
You turn to him sharply. "No, I decided to see if my conditioner would work on them." You say elongating your syllables to convey your frustration.
"You always did say you wanted to kiss in the rain without getting wet." He laughs, sitting up and ruffling his bed head.
"Very helpful." You hiss, picking through odd bits of life on your coffee table. You really need to clean your apartment. You run a hand through your wet hair. "Have you seen my eyeglass cleaner?"
Kon rests against the couch. "You mean the one in the sink?"
You shoot up. "Fuck."
"We could."
"Oh fuck you," you throw a chip at him. "Do you know where my spare is?"
"Nnnn, in my jacket."
You pause to look at him. "Which one?"
"The leather one."
"Which one?"
Kon thinks it over. "The one with studs."
"Ah." You shuffle through the closet and find your spare covered cheese and what looks to be mold. You gag and toss it into the trash.
You sigh dramatically as you walk back into the living room, your glasses still very smudgy and very wet. Standing in front of Kon, you pout crossing your arms. There wasn’t much either of you could really do about it but you weren’t really sure how to work off your now sour mood.
Kon smiles up at you indulgently. "C'mere," he says, putting his hand on the back of your neck.
You let him pull you in as if gravity had taken hold of your body instead of Kon. Then again, was there really any difference?
Your lips meld together in a warm embrace. They push and pull at each other seeking out every curve and ridge til their shapes are imprinted on each other's skin. You gently push Kon back, not breaking the kiss, and settle yourself on his lap. He traces a hand up your spine, lips curving into a smile as every nerve in your body awakens to his touch.
You eventually break for air but not before nibbling on his bottom lip. "That's not how people kiss in the rain." You say breathlessly.
Kon tilts his head to the side, obviously equally breathless even as he cuts you a sharp grin. "How would you do it?"
"Like this." You brush your thumb against his cheek before swooping in for another kiss.
3: Steamy
Kon pulls back his shades over his head like a headband as he tells you about Tim smacking into a building in an effort to avoid an alien. He tells the story with an enthusiastic swoop of his hand and a voice that rises just above the jumbled sounds of the diner.
You slouch into your moldy seat, wondering if a supervillain was somehow close by or if supervillains avoided the Midwest like the plague. Maybe you should move to the Midwest or not... They may have more diners without chocolate chip pancakes. They really should consider serving that market, you think, only half-listening to Kon's story.
"You know that anyone can hear you, right?" You say, tilting the fluffy mess of pancake batter and blueberries the size of pebbles. The underside drips a thick midnight blue and the only evidence of the pancake batter is the sweet smell of butter intertwined with the rich tangy scent of blueberries.
"Unlike you city folk, we mind our own business," Kon waves you off with a mouthful of pancakes. For once, he sounds particularly Kansan as if the whole clone thing had just been some fever dream you had after watching too many 50s sci fi movies. Or maybe Kansas has a Twilight zone effect on him that strips all the city out of him. He’d even exchanged his leather jacket for a plaid button-up.
"The English language does not have nearly enough words to fully express how much of dork you are." You say inanely picking at your pancakes.
Kon narrows his eyes at you, blue bleeding out from his pretty lips. You cover your own to hide a smile. "You're just saying that." He rolls his eyes at you.
"Trust me I don't need Lex's lab to prove that you're a dork." You cut into your pancakes ignoring how the blue will likely stain your new Superboy hoodie. "I can see it even without my-" Your glasses fog up.
"You were saying, sweetcheeks."You can tell from the silhouette beyond the haze that Kon is being a smug little shit. He leans closer, blowing on your face. "Maybe they’re steaming up because I’m such hot stuff." You can't see but you're pretty sure that he has a grin you want to slap off.
You jab your fork at the air to shoo him away from your poor glasses. "Well, I can least leave you and your ego alone while I eat in peace." You huff. The corners of your mouth are finding it extremely hard to stay down.
"As if! You'll be staring at me with those heart eyes the whooooole time," Kon says leaning forward. The tip of his finger presses against the wide lens of your glasses.
"Did you just forget how fog works?" You ask when Kon falls back into his seat.
"A little."
You let out an incredibly undignified snort as you take your glasses off. You trace the smudgy path his fingers left before putting your glasses back on.
Kon's lovestruck expression is framed in smudgy in a smudgy heart.
Kon tries to hide his smile by rubbing his nose."Which one of us is the dork again?"
"I do it with style." You say taking a bite of your pancakes.
+1: Roller Coaster of a Ride
Apparently, the city has tried to get the ride banned. You lookup. There doesn't seem to be any integrity problems. You loop your pinky finger with Kon's as you read the sign for the roller coaster. Kon shifts his hand slowly interlacing his fingers with yours. Vaguely, you hear Cassie over the phone. You twitch your pinky finger.
"Oh yeah, (Y/n) says hi."
You smile a little too broadly when he got the gesture. You lean your head on his shoulder and try to ignore the urge to kiss the corner of his lip.
"It goes 150 miles per hour." You whistle.
"Babe, we both know I can go faster."
Side-eyeing him you ask: "Can you last longer?"
Kon chokes and you think you hear Cassie cackle on the other end. You quietly bask in your glory while Kon keeps arguing over the phone. From the odd bits and ends of the conversation you could hear, you could tell Tim and Bart (and possibly Cissie) have joined in on ganging up on Kon. You may or may not be a little too helpful with their quest to make Kon's life hell.
Kon is huffy until you reach the end of the line. "Oh, babe." He points to his face. Your hands shoot up to your glasses and heat rises in your ears. Gingerly, you take them off, pause, then debate whether you should put them in your pocket (which was too loose) or hold on to them (brings up the question how good your grip is).
"I'll hold 'em," Kon says, holding out his hand.
You squint up at him, his face a vague suggestion of colors and shapes."What if you break them?"
Kon's silhouette makes a gesture like he's been struck.
You volley it with an aggressively tired look and cross your arms.
Kon doesn't withdraw his hand. "I'll take care of it like I take care of you." He kisses your brow. It's really not that you don't trust him. You really wouldn't let him drop you 200 feet in the air just to catch you but you're anxious when you can't see.
With a defeated sigh, you put your glasses in his hand. You look up at him wearily to which he responds to by pressing a reassuring hand to your back. You let out a breath and hold onto his belt loop as you enter the platform.
You both stare at the broken fragments in Kon's hands. You pick up a piece of glass that used to be part of your lenses and hold it up to your face. The corner of your mouth twitches. "Well, I certainly hope you don't do that to me." Your voice is flat, not quite sure how to ebb the oncoming wave off panic. You don't want this to ruin your date with Kon.
Kon watches your expression carefully, parsing through the little twitches and changes. You weren't angry or you didn't seem to be. Frustrated, yes. Amused, definitely. But it's something else muddling everything. Kon closes his eyes. He tries to take the quietest breath he can to steady himself. "I thought you wanted me to?" He laughs but it sounds weak.
You pout at him, squinted eyes directed at his shoulder. Your hand swats at him and you're a good 6 inches off and almost hitting your hand against a metal post if he hadn't grabbed it with his own. He runs his thumb over the back of your hand. The only advantage to you being blind right now is that you can't see the absolutely gutted expression on his face.
"You're a dumbass," You huff, closing your hand around his.
He knows. He shifts his weight on his feet. "We can go-"
You tighten your hold on the back of his jacket and swallow the cold feeling rising from your gut. "You're gonna get me the cotton candy you promised, yeah?" Your voice is a little too high, too strained, too unnatural.
Kon softens at the obvious nervousness in your tone. He wraps an arm around you, his lips brushing your forehead. "Do I really need you to be sweeter than you already are?"
"You really are laying on the charm tonight, aren’t you stud?" You say, biting your lip.
"If it means I'm not sleeping on the couch." Kon presses his forehead against yours, lips almost brushing yours.
"You aren't simply for the fact that I need help getting to the bed."
"I can do more than that," Kon winks.
Wrapping your arms around his neck and steadying your still trembling legs, you brush your lips against his neck. "I'm not gonna give you the satisfaction of cumming when I can't see you begging for it."
Kon looks around thankful that super hearing is something very rare. "I--" He swallows, heat is creeping up his skin. "--Babe, if you're seriously not ok we can go home."
You bunch up the collar of his jacket, face folding into a frown. "You were so excited to go to the theme park and we've been planning this trip for weeks..." You don't want something stupid like your glasses to ruin your day together. "C'mon Kon just a few more rides." You lean back a little farther so Kon is forced to hold you closer. "Pleeeeeeeeeaaaaaase Kon, my eyes aren't gonna be better at home. Just a few more."
Kon really has no idea how it hasn't hit you yet that he could never say no to you. "Ok. ok. Let's get some food first though."
Both Kon's breath and heart come to a full stop.
Your teeth catch against Kon's skin before pulling away.
Apparently, the theme park somehow had no cotton candy due to some kid weaponizing the cotton candy a few years ago. You had your suspicions.
You narrow your eyes a the menu. You ... can't read a thing. "Kon,"you sigh in defeat,"can you order for the both of us?"
"Hnnnnn I should get you the grossest thing on the menu."
"Well, you aren't on the menu so I think I'm pretty safe."
"Oh, I am so on the menu. I'm right over there." He points to something on the menu.
You shake your head. "Can't see."
"Can't call bullshit then."
"I revoke your cute status."
"C'mon doll, you'll always find me cute."
"Dunno, can't see."
He sighs. He hates it when you use his own argument against him.
"Can we get 1 root beer funnel cake and a strawberry one?" Kon says, raising two fingers. He looks at you then adds: "Could you add extra confectioners sugar to the strawberry one?"
You're slightly caught off guard by that detail. You never really fussed much about your orders and you don't think you've ever really mentioned your favorite flavors. You look up at Kon to thank him and ask him how but he kisses you on the nose before you can get a word out.
You squish your face into Kon's back as you take a bite out of the funnel cake. Kon tilts his head back to rest on yours. "How's the cake? Please tell me I got it right."
"No, you definitely didn't." You giggle.
"Should I have gotten you the beefcake?"
You nudge your nose against his back. "Hmmmmm, yeah. It's my favorite flavor."
"The public will be notified." He laughs. The vibrations of his laughter make his back shake in a soothing wave. You wrap an arm around Kon's waist, smiling into his back.
“Listen (y/n), I’m--” You shove the last piece of your funnel cake into his face, smearing his cheek with sugar and strawberry syrup.
“You don’t need to apologize. You didn’t mean to.” You look up at him. “Besides, you’re gonna make it up to me.”
He perks up, narrowing his eyes at you suspiciously. You shrug.“Win me a prize.”
So as it turns out, Kon is terrible at carnival games, shooting ones especially.
Clutching the oversized teddy bear he bought you from the gift shop, you laugh at him the whole way back to the car.
“I can’t believe you spent a hundred and you still couldn’t get even the jiggly snakes.” You wheeze, resting against the car.
“Gorgeous, you and I both know those things are rigged!” He protests, hand on his hips standing in front of you. You keep laughing. He puts his arms on either side of you and *tries* to look menacing. You kiss him on the nose and the mean expression on his face fades faster than Tim’s hopes of a productive team meeting.
“Yeah, yeah, I know it’s rigged but that’s not why I’m laughing.”
“Is it because I’m miserable?”
“Hmmm, no.”
“Uhuh.”
“Ok, a little,” you say, pinching your fingers together, "I’m laughing because you didn’t stop trying and that’s the dumbest and cutest thing ever.”
“I can’t tell if you’re complimenting me or insulting me.” Kon pouts, leaning in to kiss the crown of your head.
Hey, I LOVE your merc character. I also love the magic tattoo shit. Do you have any hc for how the knife looks?
Hi!!! Magic tattoos are the shit! I couldn't find a one to one but I found this cools one that's close to what I was thinking.
In my head, that the blade would be more golden red like the rest of reader's tattoos when they manifest. The patterns on the blade would look more like snake skin rather than just twisty patterns if that makes sense. I just thought that would look cool😊
summary: Batman investigates a series of eccentric robberies— he’s in for quite the surprise.
Or
Two Face decides to terrorize Gotham with his strange shopping list.
a/n: Yes, of course, I post this on Feb 2.
warnings: pregnancy and stupid fluff and my usual brand of crack
"Breaking News: Two-Face is once again on the hunt... for pickles! Gothamites beware of the bisected fiend. Keep your pickle jars stashed away in your best safe!"
Batman is, in no uncertain terms, baffled.
Robin, on the other hand, thinks he's overthinking things.
The thing is, in Batman's humble [read: expert] opinion, you can never be too careful with Gotham Rogues. Two-Face was released from Arkham Asylum around a year ago and basically went off the grid up until a few months ago which is when the most bizarre crime spree began.
First, it was fairly normal. Reasonably, normal for Gotham anyway. Security equipment. Locks, security cameras, tasers, and mace— all that jazz. Even a whistle for some reason. He was honestly surprised that he didn't go on to steal some firearms.
Then came the food. Robbing a grocery store is not unheard of but the list of items is strange. It started with pickles. An ungodly amount of pickles followed by mangoes, star apples, and then carrots. But then there was the cupcakes. The cupcakes. Sure, everyone loves a good cupcake but according to witnesses (several), Two-Face asked them to remove the icing. The staff spent minutes trying to get him to just get the muffins but he insisted on getting cupcakes with the icing removed. They complied and now the most bakeries in Gotham stock uniced cupcakes in case Two-Face was in the mood for another cupcake caper.
But the strangest thing about all these robberies is that an hour or two later, a disgruntled Two-Face will, without fail, come back up with enough money to pay for the stolen goods. Can you even call it a robbery at that point?
What really concerns Batman is the other rogues.
In addition to all the robberies, Two-Face has been in communication with half the rogues in the city. It's concerning to say the least. Ever since Batman discovered these interactions, he's been having Robin monitoring the conversations and... has reported nothing concerning. It almost sounds like chitchat (Light threats sprinkled in). There's also been no crimes following each conversation which puts Bruce on edge.
Robin insists he's being paranoid, but it's Gotham!
There's gotta be a scheme somewhere in the works. Bruce just cannot figure out what it is.
Jim has a theory, but before he can even start speaking, he dissolves into a gut-busting fit of laughter.
To get to the heart of the matter, Bruce decided on a good old fashioned stake out.
Dick decides to tag along. Bruce can see him vibrating from the 'I told you so' he thinks is going to say in a few minutes. He's still learning, so Bruce will allow it.
On cue, Two-Face is walking down the street, swaggering down the line of shops with you hanging off his arm. It's not really strange.
Then suddenly, fat droplets of tears well up in your eyes as you stop in front of a flower shop. Two-Face freezes, frozen stiff. He turns to you mechanically. "What now?" He snaps. He sounds a little tired and put upon.
"The succulent looks so cute," you hiccup, pointing at the waxy plant with googly eyes, "It's so cute." You sniffle as the tears flow down your face. The rest of the people on the street stare. You, heavily pregnant, crying about googly eyes to one of the most feared rogues in Gotham in broad daylight.
Bruce half expects Two-Face to snap at the crowd but he doesn't. Solely focused on you, Two-Face rolls his eyes and stomps into the store. "Thanks, Pal," Two-Face says to the stunned cashier, snatching one googly eyed succulent. Comes back for another for good measure.
He stomps right back out to you and shoves the two succulents in your hand. "Happy?" The sad little sniffle you give him is answer enough, so he grumbles, goes back, and... pays for the plants.
"Happy?"
You sniffle happily and snuggle into his side, looking down at your new plants. Two Face melts, his face a picture of contentment, expression mirroring the one you give the plants.
Bruce is stunned.
Dick is grinning ear to ear.
"I told you so."
Bonus:
You burst into tears.
Not little, tiny kitten sniffles, but full on sobbing.
Harvey glances between you and the not particularly rousing game of Wheel of Fortune. He sighs and mutes the TV, leaning over to put a hand on your back, rubbing gentle circles on your back.
"What's wrong, doll?"
You've been particularly emotional since the start of your pregnancy. While it still catches him off guard, he's gotten better at dealing with it. Besides, no amount of crankiness on his part will ever smother the happy feeling he gets every time he looks at you.
He entertains the idea that you could be sobbing because of the host's very obvious toupee.
You breathe, still hiccuping but you breathe in deep as he instructs you. "Harvey," you sob, "I just love you so much," and another round of body wracking sobs floods you as you practically tackle him onto his side of the couch.
Harvey chuckles, stroking your hair, kissing the crown of your head. "I love you too."
Thinking of how the Kryptonian legend that the name Nightwing comes from is the story of a man who was cast away by his family and still dreamed of protecting the weak and justice, and after Clark explained how the man in the myth used his talent and skill to fight for the weak and became a legend, Dick’s first question was “did his family ever realize their mistake?”
summary: Your family has very loud opinions about your love life.
a/n: This is set in Earth-3 where everyone’s alignments are reversed. Slade is the president of the US and Dick is Talon. Court of Owls is still evil and Bruce is Owlman and he is an asshole. This is mostly set in the Crisis on Two Earth’s movie
Warning: liberty with characterization and overprotective people
masterlist
series masterlist
"So Ms.Wilson."
It takes a second or two for you to realize you're being addressed and another second to slide on the correct type of interested smile. Not the one you use during debates when you warn your opponent that they've slipped up or the kind that slips onto your face when you're about to hit Grant with a blue shell as he's about to cross the finish line. No, it was one of those prim diplomatic smiles you've been practicing for months in anticipation for Slade's reelection campaign.
"Yes, Mr. Hayward?" You say in a voice sweet enough that Grant assumes you're thinking of the best way to rip the man's face off.
It's a fair assumption but to be honest, you're reserving that mental image in case Hayward asks you something stupid.
"Well me and the viewers and really the rest of the nation have been wondering, what's your love life like as the President's only daughter?"
And there it is.
You lick your teeth, the points of your canines feeling cold and sharp.
Grant eyes you cautiously. He looks ready to step in; yanno, in case you maul Hayward on national Television.
You draw yourself up, making a show to flick your eyes to the audience with practiced nervousness.
Ladies and gentlemen, you think to yourself, I am about to make a grown man cry.
__
"Honestly (Y/n), was that entirely necessary?" Addie asks, setting a mug of coffee in front of you.
You gently blow the rising steam and mumble at thank you as you sip. You hold back a blanch . There is no sugar, no cream, and no milk in this coffee and yup, your mother is pissed. You put the cup down, pushing away from the table before pivoting to the pantry.
"I may or may not have scared the piss out of Hayward--"
"And your brother." She sighs, putting a hand on her hip.
You roll your eyes. Grabbing the sugar, you turn back to face her. "I always scare Grant. Besides, nothing I said was a lie. I did have a date try to convince me to help him assassinate pop. On the first date too! Can you believe that? " You say cheerfully because at this point you were more amused than anything.
Addie drags her hand over her face, cupping her hand then looking at you. "You do know that's a threat to national security and to your safety, right?"
Your mouth quirks in a way that reminds Addie too much of Slade. Spinning the spoon in your hand, you shrug. "I handled it." If the guy was any real threat, you would have said something but then again, if he were a real threat, cornering him in the men's bathroom with a pen to his neck shouldn't have deterred him.
You frown. It would be a problem if he came to the press with that story but then again making threats like that would also land him in hot water and you seriously doubt the guy has access to the kind of lawyers you have.
"(Y/n)," Addie says, drawing your attention back to her. "Why didn't you tell us?"
It makes her heart twinge when you look at her with so much surprise and confusion. Sometimes, in weird moments, your eyes still betray that nervousness of giving the wrong answer.
"You could have gotten hurt." She says, cupping your cheek.
You let your cheek squish against her warm hand and you reward her with a small smile. You shake your head.
"I told Joey," you try and Addie frowns. You cup your hand against hers and try to keep your voice light. "Joey is so gonna grow up scarier than me or Grant. I can 100% guarantee it." You sigh because honestly, Joey had murder in his eyes when you told him how your date went.
Addie huffs. "How did Grant take it?"
You groan. "Grant interrogated me the whole way back here," you say, flapping your hands with annoyance. "What did the guy look like? Did I save his contact? Do I have a list of guys that did that? Should he vet my dates? Seriously! He's almost as bad as pop."
"No one can be as bad as your father." Addie shakes her head and laughs thinking of Grant practically storming off if you gave him even a crumb of information. She smooths your hair, smiling down at you.
"Trust me, Grant was pretty close."
"Well, Grant doesn't have the CIA and the FBI at his beck and call."
Your shoulders droop. "Oh my god, no."
Addie squeezes your shoulders. "Now that you've basically announced it on national TV, there's no way to hide it."
You bury your face in your hands.
Your thumb hovers over the mute button for Joey's contact. You let out a long sigh. You've already muted Grant thanks to the 60 texts. But this was Joey, your sweet (slightly evil) little brother. It was one thing to mute your big brother. He can take it but muting Joey would mean having to face his sad doe-eyed expression and frankly, you're not gonna survive that.
"Did you know that your date neglected to mention his three felonies?"
"Oh look, he's even more my type." You sigh not even looking up to meet Slade's gaze. His voice already sounds punch-ably smug. Absolutely no need to goad the urge by look at the the undoubtedly smug grin on his face. You lick your teeth in the way that reminds Slade of Addie when she's readying to call him a moron. "Has it ever occurred to you that the secret service isn't for investigating my dates?"
"No, that's what I have the FBI for."
Finally, you look up at him, still not having pressed the mute button, with a weary look (that you can only get from dealing with Slade Wilson in a domestic capacity). "That sounds like an abuse of power."
"I’m looking out for you."
You raise a brow at him.
Slade huffs crossing his arms. "And your mother insisted. And besides, call it what you will, you're not going on that date"
You seriously debate on whether to kick him off the sidewalk and into the oncoming bus. "I'm going."
"Uh Huh, aren't you curious what he got arrested for?"
"No." You rush out before you change your mind. You pick up the pace but Slade just matches yours. Curse his long legs.
After a dozen steps, you close your eyes then sigh. "Yes."
"Shall we start from worst to terrible?" Slade radiates a slightly sadistic glee as he pulls out a list from his pocket. Why did he print that? "Or terrible to prison worthy?"
You're regretting every life decision you've made leading up to this point. Maybe if you agreed to be Azula for Halloween in fourth grade maybe this wouldn't have happened but noooo, you wanted to be Zuko. "It can’t have been that bad because he isn’t in jail anymore." You say hopefully but when you side eye him, he gives you a look of sympathy that borders on condescension.
"You would be surprised what a good lawyer can do."
"You... just like ruining everything."
Where is the secret service when you need them?
"That’s my job as your father."
"No, your job is to run a country and the latest and more controversial sexyman on Tumblr."
Slade gives you a brief look of confusion. You roll your eyes and wave for him to go on.
"He's been charged with theft--"
"I can live with that."
His mouth quirks. "--Assault--"
"Ok, maybe not that."
"-- and kidnapping."
You stop and just stare at him. You drag your hands over your face before burying it in your hands along with a silent scream. "Why can't I just get a decent date?"
Slade pats you on the back, clearly amused by the turn of events. "Don’t worry, we’ll find you someone in 20-30 years time."
You let out a loud groan of frustration.
_____
When the whole dating scandal finally blew over with another scandal (courtesy of some dumbass senator), you made your way to the bar after making sure to clear all the bugs from your things and making sure no men in dark suits were tailing you.
The last thing you need is some guy hitting on you and him getting body slammed on to the floor by the secret service because that'll up your chances immensely.
You swirl your drink, admiring the amber glow of the whiskey. You've always had an unnaturally high alcohol tolerance so you were mostly drinking to appear normal in a way. You had your suspicions of course. Though, your speculations were just that, speculations.
You close your eyes, drinking in the atmosphere. You'd learned to dampen your senses a long time ago but the music and the voices in the club still overwhelmed you.
In the haze of bass, bodies, voices, and alcohol; you hear a couple of voices rise beside you.
"Just go talk to her," slurs the man, pushing his friend towards you. You pretend you don't hear them. You pretend that it's not even about you. Like a normal person, you pretend that the whole conversation is about some other girl that the extremely attractive guy is stealing glances from. Definitely.
You give the man a perfunctory glance. No weapons. At least, nothing larger than a butterfly knife then again it's not that hard to kill someone with a key if needed. He's not big though your point of reference for that is skewed but you think you could take him if he tries anything funny.
The way he carries himself is... unsure, shy if you're being specific. His shoulders are stooped and closed off. His hand is on the back of his neck and he's looking everywhere but you as his feet carry him toward you.
Twisting your stool toward him, you angle your body in an open gesture, welcoming him to talk to you. You're kind enough to hide an entertained smirk on your lips.
The next few things happen in a series of snap shots:
The guy's foot catches on a loose floor board and the music and lights grows dimmer, more sluggish, as time slows down.
The whiskey in his glass takes flight and the man's face twists in horror.
Your crisp white blouse is stained brown.
You bite back a scream.
You stare at your shirt, mind screeching to a halt. Mechanically, you raise your gaze to stare into the man's mortified one. You flatten your lips and lick your teeth, pressing your tongue against your sharp canine.
"Holy shit," he breathes, setting his glass down on the counter. He frantically waves over the bartender who hands him a stack of paper towels. "I'm so so sorry."
You take the towels, licking your lips gingerly. "I have to say," you smile thinly but not unkindly, "this is a very interesting way to get my attention."
The guy in front of you flushes. Putting a hand on the back of his neck, he tries to hide the color crawling up the nape of his neck. "I'm sorry," he says again, still not meeting your gaze. He rocks back on his feet, putting some space between the two of you. "I…" He pauses to catch his breath. "I just wanted to come and say hi," he says shyly, smiling into his hand "and I’ve ruined that already."
You hum and when you don't tell him to go away, a flicker of hope lights his eyes. "I think some shops are still open. If you want, I can pay for a change of clothes."
You raise a brow. "Again, an interesting approach. I usually expect to be asked to take my clothes off after we leave the bar." The words come out as a chuckle.
The guy turns pink. "I didn’t-- I don’t--" He is so cute.
"Pffff, relax." You grin.
He laughs softly and rubs the back of his neck. He smiles with perfect teeth and pot hole dimples that make it clear that the gods got to him first. "At least it wasn’t a sticky drink or bright pink," he tries, looking down at your white shirt. He swallows. "You look nice by the way."
"Eyes up here buddy." You chuckle.
He tears his eyes away from your shirt and focuses those piercing eyes at you. They look owlish and metallic in the strange light of the club. He stutters out an apology.
You hiss a laugh between your teeth, holding up two fingers. "Cus you're cute, you get a take 2. We can even pretend the last few minutes never happened."
"Sorry."
"Say sorry again and I will knock your teeth out."
"Sor--" You glare at him and he swallows. "It’s just you’re very attractive and I’m not good around attractive women."
Your smile softens. "Usually people start by introducing themselves," you say, lip quirking in amusement. You pat the seat next to yours. "The name's (Y/n)." You extend your hand.
"I’m Richard but everyone calls me Dick." Dick says, shuffling into the seat next to you. "Now, can I at least buy you a drink?"
"Depends, you gonna spill this one on me too?"
Dick huffs, his smile drawing sharper and more confident. "I thought the last few minutes never happened."
You chuckle. "Right, right." You wave your hands in the air, miming erasing a chalkboard.
Dick waves two fingers to catch the bartender's attention. "What would the lady like?" He smiles charmingly, all uneasiness gone replaced with a crisp confidence that makes you swoon. "Or should I surprise you?"
You grin, baring your sharp teeth to unnerve him. "Surprise me."
Dick jumps and his heart presses bruises in his throat, beating as if to choke him. He swallows down the sensation but the color still returns to his cheeks.
Dick chews his bottom lip. He orders you an expensive scotch on the rocks with bitter lemon.
"Oh?" You sip it and the flavor explodes in sparks on your tongue and burns down your throat in a satisfying streak of fire. "How did you know I’d like this?"
"You seem like a woman with good taste." He winks cheesily.
The gesture startles a gigglesnort out of you. "You fucking dork."
Dick laughs another sorry then has the audacity to say: "made you smile though." He grins and sips his own drink.
You don't kick his teeth in as promised and Dick can't help but feel warm.
"Can I ask why you’re here all alone?"
"On the run from the FBI." You say as flat as you can.
Dick chokes on his drink and he has to cough into his hand.
You grin evilly making him scowl at you. "Gotcha."
Dick wipes his pretty mouth with the back of his hand. "and why are you really here?"
"What makes you think I’m not on the run from the FBI?" You hum, swirling your glass.
And it's Dick's turn to grin, all suaveness and mirth. "They’d let a face as pretty as yours get away with anything."
Heat spreads across your chest, unfamiliar but not unpleasant. You let your body ease because you were pretty sure you were in for the long haul tonight.
You don't know if it's the alcohol or if it's the heat of the flashing club lights or maybe it's just because you've spent the last few hours with your chest heaving from laughter but the hours fall by weightlessly.
Dick, allegedly a student at the local community college, is sweet and funny and stupidly endearing. You hate him but you don't think you'll be ok with yourself if this is the last time you see him again. If it is, you want the night to last all of eternity.
You look at your watch and suddenly feeling like Cinderella, you sigh. "I need to go." You say, trying not to betray your sadness as you push away from the counter.
Dick reaches for your wrist, the same sad look reflected in his eyes. He withdraws his hand but he maintains eye contact. He seems to search for words before just settling on: "Can I walk you home?"
You perk up.
"Or-- or maybe just to your car." He tries.
You give him an uncharacteristically soft smile. "I'd like that," you say, wrapping your hand around his wrist. "Bus station but I guess that's better than nothing."
He beams at you. "I guess it is."
Dick waves as he watches your bus leave the station, golden eyes focused on your form as it slouches into the seat.
As soon as the bus fades into the distance, he pulls out a burner phone from his pocket.
"I've made contact." He says curtly, ducking into the alley.
The line is silent for a moment before it crackles with Owlman's voice, commanding even over the phone. "Continue to monitor her. She will be useful when the Court finds President Wilson to be a nuisance."
Summary: Clark’s feeling down and you are disgustingly sweet about it.
a/n: Just some cuddles because I need some cuddles because of classes. I am going to drop kick a prof if I have to hear another lecture about empathy.
Warnings: Fluff
"What's up, handsome? Why the long face?" You ask, fingers brushing against Clark's cheek. Clark sighs. He leans into your touch, cupping your hand in his. "It's nothing," he says, kissing your palm.
You huff rolling your eyes. "Clark, sweetie, try again."
"Not convincing, huh?" He chuckles. He turns his face into your hand until your hand is covering half of his face, until the only thing to focus on is his eyes. "What gave it away?"
You turn your head up, pausing thoughtfully. Clark closes his eyes and relaxes against your touch. When you finally look down, you smile and boop his nose.
"My nose?" He asks, eyes crinkling a little. "Did it get that long?"
"Yeah," you laugh, leaning in to kiss it and bumping your forehead against his. "Long enough to hit a satellite. Probably smacked it out of orbit." You move your hands to cup the sides of his face, drawing his face closer to yours to pepper it with kisses.
You and Clark giggle, bodies toppling over until you're piled in a heap on the couch, laughing and tickled.
Clark draws you up into a hug. You snuggle your face into him, listening to his heart, patting your hand against his chest in the same rhythm. It's a weird habit that calms him down. He kisses the crown of your head.
"Wanna talk about it?"
"Not right now."
"Ok," you wrap your hands around his shoulders, "we can talk about it if you need to."
I hope it’s okay to add something but DC Cosmic Teams pretty much helped me a lot to get in their… cosmic teams, obviously, and some others. Especially Legion of Super-Heroes, New Gods, and JLA’s branch teams/members.
So I recently learned Harvey and Jason's dad had BEEF and Harvey killed him apparently??? Okay. So. I propose we all imagine this:
You're Jason Todd. You're 4 years old.
You know, because the only reading material you have is your birth certificate. A copy of it, wilted by dry ink. You're always hungry. You get food sometimes, but no hugs, no kisses, no soft words. You're still hungry.
Your father only touches you with his belt or shoe or anything else he can grab and a small crumble of you welcomes it because it's better than nothing.
You're Jason todd, age 4, and you haven't seen your mother get up from the tub for 3 weeks. You try to shake her and wake her up but nothing worse. Your father takes his shower and doesn't care.
You're Jason Todd and you hear a voice -- gruff and thick but smooth and raspy, " Jesus fuckin' christ, Todd."
" I'm tellin' you I don't got the money. It ain't my fault that whore of yours left you and you're In a bad mood--"
You're Jason todd, hiding in a closet, when you hear the terryfing sound of your father being quiet for once. For once, he doesn't yell. For once, there's peace in your house. Gun smoke and all.
You're Jason Todd, age 4, when you meet Two Face. He's scary. He says he's gonna take you somewhere, and for you that's a Boogeyman's promise, so you trash and you scream and you yell, and he just holds you tight.
You hold back; He's big and warm and could crush you in paste, but he doesn't. He just rocks you and shushes you and promises he'll take you somewhere you'll like. He doesn't tell you to stop crying.
You do anyway, because you're 4, and you're tired, and you haven't had your nap all day because you were doing chores.
You're Jason Todd and you meet Bruce Wayne at 3 o clock in the morning.
He's tired; those dark clouds under his eyes indicate he hasn't slept, there's a hollowness to his sharp cheekbones, and he looks nothing like does on TV.
He doesn't look dazzling, or glamours, or dashing. He looks like someone whose adopted baby got taken back by their neglectful, dog shit parents, and he's never been more devoured by misery than then.
" harv..."
" thought you might know what to do with him," harvey shrugs, still keeping a tight hold on you, like he might lose you too, and you tremble and cry when you're moved away.
You don't make noise, thought. Making noise always gets you in bigger trouble. Bruce Wayne holds you like you're the most precious thing in the whole wide world.
He holds you're made of love and light and all things right.
And you still cry in his arms, because you just want your mommy, and you want to nap, and you want to read and you want to be kissed and hugged and cuddled you want everything you never got.
" Oh, Jason. Oh, sweetheart. "
You're Jason Todd, age 5, because today's your birthday. You spend the first 10 minutes of it sleeping gentle and teary in Bruce's arms, while another pair holds you both.
You're Jason Todd, and you might be the reason Bruce Wayne and Harvey Dent start talking again.
Okay, some plotty brain bunnies after tormenting my friends with ideas:
Bruce is big competition as CEO of WE, but that's not necessarily what he wants to do; Every company has that tender kill spot you'd best stab with the sharpest knife you got. In Bruce's case? His kids.
So a subplot or side story to this is Dick running away from his foster home, getting into misadventures and collecting siblings, while trying to find his way back to Bruce!
Bruce is adjusting to having a child in his presence again, but he loves Jason to death and life already
Janet and Jack gave Tim up for adoption once Bruce found out he was being neglected, and then took him back. That caused Bruce to fall even deeper and harder in his depression, which was the main reason he and Harvey drifted apart
They don't even move; They're still neighbours. Bruce having to listen to Tim's sobbing, without being able to help or be there. While his baby cries with no one to hold him.
Harvey being such a protective husband BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK
Okay, but what if instead Tim just skates near where Damian is basically angling for him to ask for help and when he doesn't, Tim gives casual advice and corrections that help Damian improve on his own. At first Damian thinks Tim is taunting him, but eventually he figures out just how much Tim has rearranged his schedule to be present. And he doesn't say thanks or ask for help, but he does insult the art on Tim's board and says he can do better. And Tim hears the offer in the insult and dares Damian to try. It is still bonding, but it's uniquely theirs.
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