Just_Kay

Everyone calls me Kay | She/Her | 24y | Totally Subtle Enjoyer of the BatFam | Lover of Headcanons and Leon Kennedy | Intrigued by Most Requests But No Promises

[kay-imma-head-out]

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Batfam x Female Reader

Clark Kent x Female Reader

Summary: If loving me means letting go and wishing me the best Then I guess I wish, I wish, I wish you loved me less - Olivia Rodrigo

Includes: Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Conner Kent, and Damian Wayne

Bruce Wayne:

It starts long before he actually leaves.

It was a Tuesday in November.

A sharp chill in the air that you love so much.

You both were walking down a street in Gotham.

“I love nights like this” You smile and swing Bruce’s arm slightly.

A short meal followed by a walk around the local farmers market.

You had walked into a crowded coffee shop to grab you both something.

Claiming that you will bare the crowds alone to avoid a mob,“The trials and tribulations of being so loved I'm afraid”

 You laughed as Bruce waited on the curb of Park and Vine leaning against a lamppost as you walked into the coffee shop.

He watches you flit easily through the mess of people.

No one stops you for a photo, or a question.

You just blend into them.

You laugh at a joke from the barista before striking up a conversation with a single dad and his toddler.

It reminds Bruce of you and a younger Jason.

It makes him smile thinking about how long you’ve been together.

How much growth you’ve both had.

He tunes back into the small coffee shop.

The toddler had been throwing a tantrum regarding a cake pop.

You don’t buy him one like Bruce likely would have.

You merely lean down and start talking to the boy and have him… and his father laughing in mere moments.

The toddler reaches for your hand and you grab it swinging his arm back and forth drawing a laugh.

He remembers when you and Jason used to laugh like that…

When was the last time the three of you went out together maybe-

The wind picks up again causing leaves to briefly block Bruce’s gaze as he watches you with their small family.

Happy

Warm

Alone in a crowded room.

Those are three things Bruce can never give you.

It hits him all at once.

Jason would never go out to do something with him again.

You can’t even walk into a coffee shop with Bruce.

You deserve a happy quiet life where you don’t have to be ‘on’ all the time because a woman at the farmers market wanted to make a comment about his “escapades”

You deserve a warm coffeeshop not the stinging cold of the curb on Park and Vine.

So, Bruce looks at you for one more moment before he turns and goes home.

He sends no note or information.

Just changes the locks at the manor and hopes that maybe… he can keep you safe as you live a life without him.

Clark Kent

You are fading in front of his very eyes.

Exhaustion, anxiety, and burnout is practically seeping out of your pores.

There are moments of light.

When you are out to dinner with him, when you finally manage to sleep, and when talking about your shared pets.

Clark has tried to ask you about it, but you smoothly rebuff him each time.

You’re, “just tired”, “It was a long night,”, and his least favorite, “You’re worried about me? You saved the world yesterday!”

After that comment, Clark started putting two and two together.

Your exhaustion always peaks after a big fight or every two weeks.

After a particularly rough night that ended with you pulling a piece of Kryptonite out of his shoulder, Clark asks, “Are you happy here… with me?”

You straighten and throw a glare at him, “Of course, you are one of the best parts of-”

Clark shakes his head, “Don’t lie.”

You huff and pull back a little, “I’m not.”

“Would you be happier if I wasn’t Superman?” Clark asks you point blank.

You stare back at him, “I love you.”

Clark grabs your hand and pulls it towards you, "That's not an answer to my question.”

Something similar to desperation laces his voice.

“You wouldn’t be you without Superman.” You answer feeling the long months creep around your vision.

“I can’t let you drain yourself for me.” Clark levels with you.

“Clark, Don’t. I’ll be fine, it was just a long day.” You argue.

Clark rubs his hands on his knees, “It’s been a longer year. You are making yourself sick” Clark pushes himself into a stand.

He opens up the door. His voice wavers for just a moment, “I can’t stand to watch you cry anymore.”

“You aren’t listening to me!” You yell.

“No, I think for the first time in a year. I am.” The door slams with a solid thud.

Clark slides down the oak door of your apartment.

He hears the thud of something being thrown against the door

 then another 

and another.

Each new slam reminds Clark of the past year.

Every all nighter you were dragged onto

Every missed anniversary that was ignored

Every rescued lunch is delivered to the Planet where you look half dead on your feet.

The dinner’s you made that sat untouched until he arrived only to be matched by you asleep on the couch.

He hasn’t been returning the favor, rather just expecting you will be there to help when he needs it.

How long has this been going on and how can he make himself deserve you again.

For the first time in a very long time, Clark Kent walks home instead of flying. 

Dick Grayson

Dick begins to wonder if he can run far enough away from you to resolve his guilt and then circle back when everything is right again.

The image of you in that damn hospital bed was enough for him to start running.

It wasn’t targeted.

Not on purpose anyway.

As far as the rogue knew you were just a civilian at the wrong place and the wrong time.

You weren’t

Dick had promised to visit you on that damn rooftop.

You wouldn’t have been there otherwise.

Raptor had thrown you over the edge of the building to lure him away.

And it worked

Raptor got away and he still didn’t catch you in time.

Dick Grayson is a liability.

So he ensured your safety.

Then sat on an opposite rooftop until you arrived in your hospital room.

Then… he started running

He didn’t know where

Or what he was running from but he did know why.

If he could separate himself from you.

You would be happier, healthier, and safe.

Hell, you don’t even know he is Nightwing yet.

He couldn’t give you that common courtesy before seeing you be thrown over the edge of a skyscraper on his behalf.

He stops in his tracks.

And then he abandoned you.

He turns back to the hospital for just a moment and wonders.

“Would I just make it worse?”

He can barely see you now.

You sit up looking around the room for something or someone.

His hand clenches

One step towards you

Another.

You deserve him to be there when you wake up.

You didn’t do anything

He picks up speed running back towards you.

You love each other. That's all that really matters. Dick can deal with the rest of it.

Danger can't touch love.

You both just proved that.

They're not even in real danger yet.

His mind supplies the thought before he can stop it.

Tell her, and the entire rogues gallery will know exactly where to hurt you.

He slows

He takes one more step forwards before turning on his heel towards your shared apartment running faster than he had all day with the mindset of, “It will be worse now, but easier later”

He gets all of his belongings out in two trips.

Jason Todd

Crime Alley is Jason’s home.

You knew that when you had started dating.

You weren’t planning on leaving.

You had a decent job, a good apartment, and a solid foundation for a life together.

So, you aren’t sure why you applied for a position 6 hours away.

Maybe it was the massive payraise, the connection to your eventual dream job, your awful boss, impulsivity, or some combination of them all.

You mentioned it to Jason and he firmly encouraged it.

So you went for an interview

And another

And another.

By round four you think you'd entered a time warp.

Then you got the call.

They wanted you.

You jump into his arms after the call.

Excited at succeeding at something you didn’t think possible.

But then, you think

And in that moment you look at Jason and your apartment and you turn it down.

You were happy in Gotham.

And you try to explain that to Jason.

Which devolves into your largest fight to date.

“This place is a black hole!” He argues, “It will suck you in with me.”

“Jason, I am just fine where I am! I love you.” 

“You shouldn’t stay in a dead end because you love someone. It’s not right.”

You both go to bed angry, but together.

In two weeks you almost forgot about the whole affair.

Leaving only the official offer letter on your desk.

You forgot to throw it out.

But Jason saw it. Every single day.

In retrospect, you should have seen the signs.

An anniversary trip to the beach sounds like one of Jason’s worst nightmares.

But he has traveled in a similar fashion before so it didn’t seem too out of character.

Until, he doesn’t follow you onto the plane.

You argue with the flight attendant who simply hands you a letter and drags you back to your seat.

It was short.

“Doll, you deserve better than Gotham. I called and they are waiting for you. I love you, -JT”

You're about to stand and run off the plane when it starts moving.

You were fucking pissed.

The plane takes off and as it runs down the runway you see a similar red motorcycle run parallel to the tarmac until it lifts off the ground.

“I am gonna fucking kill him when I come back”

Tim Drake

Timothy Drake has been many things over the course of his life, but blue collar… was never one of them.

So the Gotham Public Homecoming Football game? Is… uncharted territory.

Despite your many mini arguments, prep school does seem to be alittle different than public school.

This is most heavily orchestrated by your entirely senior class mimicking a rollercoaster in your bleacher seats during the fourth quarter of the game.

It’s loud

Messy.

Overly involved at times

But everyone is so happy.

It reminds him of you.

You’d been separated from him during halftime after you had been introduced as part of the alumni homecoming court.

He found his eye being drawn back to you constantly.

This was your element.

You were decked out in an old football jersey that must have been your fathers from high school.

You let a woman he doesn't even know the name of add ‘war paint’ to your face.

You look different.

Not different exactly.

Just...

Like yourself.

Time sits back and watches you crack old jokes and cheer so loud it turns to gibberish.

He is suddenly transported back to when he met you the first time.

It was a snowball fight on campus.

You asked to climb onto his shoulders for “the high ground.”

This… is you. Maybe always has been.

It was at this moment that he realized how isolated your relationship had been.

You always went along with his plans

His insane schedule

His vaguely commanding security precautions.

But, he’s never been to your home.

Your actual home.

Not the apartment in the city, but a farm house that smells like dirt and corn husks.

You look.. So happy.

You complete some secret handshake with another member of the homecoming court.

He tries to go through the list of people you’ve talked about.

Something.

Anything.

But Tim can’t even remember you talking about High School let alone winning Homecoming Court and having a secret handshake with some guy twice his size.

You try and wave him over.

Eventually, you push through the large group of friends to him.

“I saw you watching, here.”

You try to teach him.

It really turns into him just standing there while you do the moves for him.

You laugh, “We can try again at home okay?”

Tim nods before slips back to his empty section.

How long had he been caging you in a life that wasn’t your own.

Tim starts to plan.

Weekly visits home.

He'll take off work more.

He'll come to the games.

He'll learn the handshake.

He'll make room.

He can fix this.

Until you get up on that stage and light up the stadium.

He notices the way people look at you when you speak.

They already know the punchline.

They laugh before you finish it.

They remember stories he has never heard. 

Of course, you got on the court, dated the quarterback, and apparently thought climbing onto the shoulders of a Wayne heir was perfectly reasonable. 

You’re amazing

When he’s never seen you be this comfortable anywhere…. Especially not with him

…

How long would you have put up with it.

He leaves the stadium fast.

Refusing to turn around.

Missing your confused stare on his way out.

Conner Kent (TW: Mind manipulation undertones):

There reaches a point in every relationship with a super where no matter how much you love them. You question… is this worth it?

Conner forgot your birthday this year.

It wasn’t a big thing at the time.

You ignored his previous elaborate set ups.

His doodled heart on the date of your calendar.

Him and Young justice just got back from space.

He deserved a break.

He will make it up to you. He always does.

Then he forgot your anniversary.

The date he planned months in advance, but got some red head member of YJ flowers for “standing up to her mentor”

Young justice was important to him, but anymore… it feels like you've become a fading memory.

There is also the problem with M’gann and her unnecessary attachment to your boyfriend.

She's dragged him away on missions more times than you can count, and the few times Con has fought back she almost turned red with anger.

But those are slowly becoming few and far between.

The final nail in the coffin wasn’t rage or a large fight.

It was just the way he looked at her when you weren't around. 

It was the way he looked at you before joining YJ.

He seems happier with her than with you.

So, it starts slow.

Random objects being packed up.

You mainly start it as a test.

Box one:

Of course he will notice

Box two:

Maybe he hasn't realized yet.

Half the apartment:

How the FUCK!?

Until all your belongings end up in boxes and he never said a word.

You don’t even feel the need to say anything on the last day.

Rather just hugging him and wishing him happiness and telling him to “go for it”

The words burn sharp and fast down your throat, but… you say them for him.

Conner isn’t sure why you are in his apartment or how you got all this stuff in here without him noticing,

 but he feels a sharp ache in his heart the moment you drive away.

Maybe he will ask M’gann about it… She knows everything

Damian Wayne (Aged-up):

Talia Al-Ghul has a bit of a problem in the shape of a native gothamite who is sticking their nose in her and her son's business.

Talia waited long enough to take Damian back to the League.

Honestly she likely waited too long, if his recent attitude is any indication.

“Mother-”

Talia’s laugh is all knives, “I wasn’t giving you an option dearest. You need to return home.”

“I am-!”

She stops her son, “This is not your home.” Her tone leaves no room for debate, “It was a temporary solution that Bruce has long abused. You are the rightful heir to the league of Assassins’ you need to go home.”

This argument has been going on for months since Damian’s graduation from medical school.

“If this is about the indignant tramp of yours, I can find you a better alternative one more befitting of your status-”

You drown out her latest slight with the kitchen aid at the highest setting.

The batter beneath your hands refuses to yield to your ministrations similar to many things in your life.

Just as you're about to impulsive through the failed dough against the nearest window.

Alfred walks in.

“Now, I am no baker myself, but that is not the way I understand how to make bread rise.” He states matter of factly before grabbing the dough out of your hand.

“It's higher than it was on the counter. I think it counts.” You mumble allowing Alfred to take over the misshapen lump. 

“It’s not like you to fail a bake, my dear.” 

He’s right. You usually love baking. It’s the best way to get stress out of your joints but…

“They are not replicable!” Echos from the foyer.

Talia huffs, “Well they are hardly worth brainwashing. Your grandfather has already selected a wonderful-”

A loud crash.

Alfred’s hands freeze on the ball, “Ah. I see”

“Ya,” You agree, sliding down the kitchen counter, “I don’t think she likes me very much.”

Alfred smiles at you, “In this family, that's a compliment.”

“Mother-” Damian sighs.

You take your head out of your hands, “Not to Damian.”

He has defended you. Time and again.

And what have you given in return?

Anxiety

Stress

Arguments with his mom.

I think I am making this worse for him.

What an idiot you are. Separating a mother from her only son.

You brush the flower off your hands before starting to clean.

“Dear, I can-”

 “I umm.” You reply, “I’m gonna go.”

Taken slightly aback, Alfred looks at you, “Well I hope you’ll be back for dinner.”

You freeze and look over at the chaos brewing between Mother and son.

Chaos that is only worsened by your presence.

“Ya… of course. Thank you Alfred.”

You think you pulled it off.

You don’t realize that the moment you shut the door behind you, Alfred calls Dick to set things straight with Talia.

[kay-imma-head-out]

I loved that prompt of the upsidedown kiss and I thought of one!

Can you do the Batboys x fem reader with this prompt?

Person A: *trying to fix something* "hey could you give me a hand?

Person B: sure! *Holds their hand*

Person A: your cute but that's not what I ment

That’s Not… Okay Sure

Batfam x Female Reader

Clark Kent x Female Reader

Includes: Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne

A/N: Very cute anon, I really kinda love how this one came out! BUT i am almost positive my spelling mistakes are worse than normal because I didn't proof read (so sorry). But I am kinda loving the quote requests.

Same rules as always with quote prompts. I will attempt to keep the vibe of the original quote, but some changes will be made to keep it feeling fresh for each person.

Bruce Wayne:

You’ve always enjoyed helping Bruce in the cave.

You’ve argued that you’re “just in the way”

But Bruce claims he “needs the moral support.”

So, you sit and watch him train.

Often too distracted to actually spot him when he would ‘theoretically’ need it.

But that doesn’t weaken the argument whenever one of the kids ask.

“Sure,” Tim rolls his eyes as you repeat the similar phrase.

He covers Damian's ears for all of 5 seconds, “In front of a child? Disgusting.”

You roll your eyes before Tim yelps, “BRAT”

Damian quickly slaps his hands away before chasing his older brother.

Leaving you alone once more with Bruce as he continues his salmon ladder.

“Have you beaten Oliver yet?”You ask as the large metal bar clacks against the ladder.

“Ugh,” Bruce grunts in exasperation, “I did. Then he decided to double it.”

CLACK

“It won't be a problem.” Bruce finishes. Going up three more rungs for emphasis.

Sure enough, Bruce handles it with ease before jumping back down to the mat.

His back glistens from the sweat of the previous exertion.

It shines bright against the lights of the leds of the Cave.

You feel your head tilt as the muscles begin to contract once more as he begins push ups.

You aren’t sure how long you watch the smooth repetitive motions of his body before he breaks you out of your trance.

“Darling?” he huffs.

You blink once or twice, “Yesn’t-” You shake the cobwebs out of your head, “I mean, yes what's wrong?”

He glance back with a grin, “I could use a hand here.”

You glance at him in confusion.

He seems to be doing just fine.

You hop off your stool and sit down next to him.

Completely unaware of what he needs you for, you decide to capitalize.

You gently begin to rub out the knot in his shoulders.

Bruce grunts before quickly melting into your touch.

Bruce's shoulders loosen beneath your hands.

He lets out a quiet sigh.

...

...

"...That wasn't what I meant."

You continue anyway, feeling him relax further.

He lets you continue for a few more moments.

Just long enough to think he would let you finish.

But he grabs onto your hand and forces you to stop.

He looks over his shoulder, “Get on my back.”

“Your-?”

He nods before patting his back.

“I a going to hurt you. With Bane breaking your spine-.”

Bruce shakes his head, “I need more weight. You won’t hurt me. I could bench press.”

You glance down at his back before gingerly climbing on leaving the majority of your weight on your feet.

He rolls his eyes before swiping both of your feet and dragging them over his shoulders while you yelp in surprise.

“Ass.” You quip

"Language."

"You're using me as a weighted vest."

Bruce shrugs and begins his pushups anyway, “The sentiment still applies.”

This is of course when Tim walks back in, "God, get a room" 

“Tim!” You yell

“We are already in one.” Bruce replies with a grunt lifting you yet again.

You turn to glare at your husband, “Bruce!”

Clark Kent

Mechanics are not… your favorite things

You know the minimums

Changing a tire

Charging a car battery 

But Tractors?

No.

Nooo thank you

But when an emergency strikes you have to try your best.

Pa Kent threw out his back trying to work on the combine.

So, he is in prison (bedrest) being guarded by Warden Martha Kent.

But the combine still needs its new wheel bearings…

Clark is very familiar with all things mechanical having been taught by both of his parents.

You’ve become his right hand.

Mostly this means you sit on the ground next to him and hand him the necessary tool.

Phillips' head?

Got it

Flat head?

Easy

Wrenches of various sizes?

100%

You are prepared and ready for whatever he needs from you

Until, he doesn’t need anymore tools.

So you just sit and wait.

Its a gorgeous day in Smallville

Even if you had to shoo away Johnathan Kent and then was forcefully given lemonade from Martha Kent.

The entire process took about 6 hours, but you wouldn’t have changed anything.

“Okay, Clark last one can you hand me-”

Before you get a chance to finish, Clark places his hand in yours and roles out from under the tractor.

You laugh at the warm look on his face and gently try to wipe off the oil from his automotive work, “That wasn’t what I meant."

He leans up and kisses you, “I love you… so much.”

You pull away but lean your head against his, “I didn’t do anything.”

Clark shakes his head, “You’re here.”

He leans back in for a kiss between each phrase.

“You sat in the hot kansas sun”

“You got my Pa to go back to resting.”

“You drank the lemonade my Ma forced onto you.”

You smile, “"I wasn't going to say no to Martha Kent." 

Clark laughs, “No one says no to Ma.”

“And most of all you never made it seem like it was below you.”

You shake your head, “It’s not.”

“Most wouldn’t act that way.” Clark finishes, “You are amazing”

Dick Grayson (Mayor!Female Reader)

Every so often, Dick Grayson's "Bruce Wayne's charming eldest son" persona makes an appearance. 

This moment is one of those.

Being a politician has its ups and downs, and making speeches?

That is a definite downside.

Making speeches that are supposed to be funny as well as serious?

Damn near impossible

But, the city council of Bloodhaven asked and here you are.

The speech was going well enough, Dick acting as your emotional support bodyguard for the day.

Dick often forgets how much of a presence he has until moments like these.

The combination of sob story plus billionaires ward plus town rookie often draws attention away from those who need it at the moment.

Which in this case is you.

He can feel each camera pointed in his direction choosing to ignore your very elegant and… thorough speech you drafted.

He easily slips behind the curtain.

Enough to be hidden but still able to watch what needed to be.

He'd rather people remembered your speech than the fact that he attended. 

From the wings, he couldn't help but smile.

You looked so confident up there as you explain all the good you've done to Bloodhaven during your term. 

You’ve kept your relationship under wraps since before the election to avoid issues with both of your jobs.

But in moments like this, he wishes he could stand proudly next to you.

You proudly ask the audience to give a hand to the paramedics and first responders in the room before turning to leave the stage during the applause.

Which is of course when you almost face plant.

An arm wrapped securely around your waist before you even realized you were falling. 

You glance up at your savior and… you aren’t sure who you were expecting.

Of course it was Dick

The cameras light up and writing can be heard all around the room.

“Not helping, Officer Grayson” You whisper

Dick didn't miss a beat.

"I was just giving you a hand."

Before you could protest, he spun you back onto your feet in one smooth twirl like the entire thing had been choreographed.

A few reporters laughed.

Someone in the audience actually applauded.

You smoothed out your jacket before clearing your throat.

"Thank you, for the save."

Dick salutes, "Happy to be of service, Madam Mayor."

You rolled your eyes, already knowing tomorrow's headlines were going to be interesting.

Jason Todd

You were pushing your luck.

You knew that, but to be honest you didn’t really care.

You were promised the next promotion if you could just keep working at the current pace you set.

Unfortunately, that pace was set during Jason’s extended stay in Star City.

You were bored, town was dead, and you needed something to get your thoughts off of your boyfriend potentially dying.

So you chose work.

A casual 8 hour day plus the overtime quickly added up and you started making strides at work.

Until, Jason came back and realized that while you are home, you were paying your relationship any attention.

One strong aspect of your relationship is boundaries.

You never make Jason tell you about patrol or plan social events on sundays.

He never gives you information that could put you in danger or cause unnecessary stress.

In return Jason gives you space while still being actively involved in your life when possible.

It was a good relationship it worked.

Or… he thought it was.

Since he came back from his latest mission, things have been different.

Your attitude is the same 

You seem happy with the arrangement when you are around.

But… you're distant.

Jason is used to distance.

He practically raised himself

He’s largely uninvolved with his family.

But you… you were different.

So, Jason left it be.

For a few reasons: fear of losing you,fear of looking weak, among others.

Until, you took the last step.

Even when Jason noticed you pulling away, you still ate dinner together.

Well, until tonight.

It wasn’t loud or angry like he was used to.

You just picked up the plate you had made and walked into your office.

Jason just sat for a moment, contemplating the end of your relationship

He stared at the doorway long after you'd disappeared.

Maybe this was just how it ended.

No screaming.

No fighting.

Just… Quiet.

 Before you popped back out.

“Oh Jay, perfect!” You smile at him, “Can you give me a hand?-”

Jason isn’t entirely sure what came over him, but he stands and just places both of his hands in yours for a moment.

You stand for a moment unmoving before Jason pulls you into a full embrace.

You quickly hug him back before attempting to pull back and say through your bought of laughter, “Jay thats not really what I-”

He stops you from pulling, “I know. Its just… been awhile and…”

He stops himself, “I missed you.”

You back up a little. Not enough to pull away but enough to brush the white streak away from his face so you can see his eyes, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You feel his shrug more than see it.

“Okay. Its movie night now. Go pick something. I am going to log off.”

Jason pulls back hard, “That wasn’t meant to-”

“I know.” you nod, “But I want a movie night.”

Tim Drake

Tim stared at the disaster that was currently your new bookshelf.

"Could you give me a hand?"

You immediately reached over and intertwined your fingers with his.

Tim blinked.

"What are we doing?"

"You asked for my hand."

"Oh."

He looked between your joined hands and the instruction manual.

"That's actually nice."

"Tim."

"Yeah?"

"Did you forget what you were building?"

He looked back at the pile of wood.

"Maybe."

You take a step back and look at him.

Prominent eye bags

His third Monster

And his hands are shaking.

You nod before taking the tools out of his hands, “Bedtime”

“Bedtime?”

You widen your eyes before nodding and helping him off the ladder, “Yes.”

“I’m fine.”

“No sir, you are not.” You state trying to pry the tools out of his hand, “You gave me your hand instead of the socket wrench. Then got so distracted by our hands being together that you forgot what we were doing. Bed. Time.”

“You asked for it.”

“The wrench…” You clarify.

“No you said ‘hand’”

"You're shaking." You argue

"Too much caffeine."

"Your speech is slurring."

"...Too much caffeine." Tim repeats

"You just tried to put a screw into your Monster."

"...That's unrelated."

Dear lord 

"That proves nothing." He continues watching the concern on your face grow

You stare,"Tim."

"I made one mistake."

You huff "You called the instruction manual a mission briefing."

"It is."

"You tried to tighten a bolt with a screwdriver." You list

"Improvisation."

"You've been looking for your phone for ten minutes."

He looks at you as if that is irrelevant.

"It's in your pocket."

He instinctively pats the pocket of his jeans.

"Oh."

He finally lets you lead him toward the bedroom.

"You've yawned at least six times." You continue feeling his resistance

"I have not."

He yawns

"You just did it again." You point

"Nuh uh"

He suddenly stops.

"What?" You ask

"Can we still hold hands?"

You smile, "I thought you wanted the socket wrench."

"I did." Tim pauses, "...Now I want this."

He gently intertwines your fingers again.

You help him sit on the edge of the bed.

He opens his mouth to continue arguing.

"I'm just saying, from a purely objective standpoint, I think—"

He yawns.

"I think..."

"..."

"..."

His head slowly tips forward.

You wait.

"Tim?"

Nothing.

He's asleep before you even have a chance to pull the blanket over him.

You laugh quietly, brushing a strand of hair away from his face.

"So much for not being tired."

Even in his sleep he doesn’t let go.

Damian Wayne (Aged-up):

One of the perks of dating the most particular bat in the batfamily is… you are the only one who can ragebait him without repercussions.

You just need to be careful about when you use your powers.

With great power comes greater responsibility afterall…

This is often ignored by the rest of the family. 

“Oh come on! It’ll be funny.” Stephanie is actively pushing you towards the Wayne Family Library with a terrible plan.

“No,” You state, “I will watch you do it though.”

“Damian would never let me-” 

You interrupt, "Exactly and why would he let me then?”

She gestures at you as you stand in his Gotham Academy hoodie.

“I could warn him of what-”

Stephanie quickly then turns around and walks the other direction.

“Thats what I thought, Brown!”

She points a finger in the air, “Neither of you are any fun!”

With a laugh you shake your head and walk into the library.

Truth be told, you already had a plan for today.

“Hey Damian?” You ask slowly, walking over to him and sitting in the chair opposite as he works through his latest biography.

He hums in response.

Despite Damian's attempts at appearing like a cold stone killer.

Damian would never admit to enjoying physical affection.

Publicly, he tolerated it.

Privately...

You couldn't remember the last time the two of you sat together without one of his hands finding yours.

This is where your plan comes in.

You wondered how long he would go before asking to hug, or touch, or cuddle in any regard.

But, you’ve underestimated his willpower and his belief that you don’t love always being touched.

It's been a while.

A long while

But, you aren’t about to throw away a month's worth of research because of your willpower.

“I need help with something.” You state sitting sideways in the lounge chair opposite of him.

He hums again in acknowledgement. 

He’s not even looking at you…

Maybe you got it wrong.

“There is this guy in class who said that if your hands are the same size it means your soulmates-”

Damian glances up, “No”

You nod, “And thats what I said. But he grabbed my hand-”

Damian straightens just a little, “Describe him”

“-And it was the same size!” You announce looking at your hand in false mystified wonder.

“Beloved, You allowed a stranger to grab your hand?” Damian tries to wave you over.

“I don’t believe him, I was just wondering if your hand and mine are the same size.” You stand up and begin walking away from him.

You feel him roll his eyes in confusion before quickly blocking your path out of the room.

“Damian,” You say trying to carry your empty mug out of the library, “Can you give me a hand here? I need to leave.”

Damian huffs grabs the mug and press his palm against yours.

It's not perfect, but his hand is warm and solid against yours.

It's the perfect size for handholding.

You tilt your head at the exchange, "That's not what I meant.”

You try to pull away.

His hand turns just slightly before locking his fingers between yours in a tight hold.

He levels a look at you, “You are mistaken."

"...About what?" You ask gently trying to pull your hand free (with no real force)

"That this was an answer to your request."

He sits.

Then, with one practiced tug, you lose your balance and end up sprawled across his lap.

He returns to his book with his free hand.

There went a month's worth of research,

Damian huffs holding up your hands, "Mine is larger."

"Damian." You glare at him.

"An objective observation." He moves your hand back down

"You're impossible.", You tighten the hold before laying your head down on his chest with a thump.

"I fail to see how factual statements make me impossible."He glances down from his book, "Would you prefer I lie?

[kay-imma-head-out]

Hi! I love your stuff! I was wondering if you could do one of the Batboys taking care of their sick girlfriend?

But the Ceiling Fan is so Nice!

Batfam x Female Reader

Clark Kent x Female Reader

Conner Kent x Reader

Includes: Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Conner Kent, and Damian Wayne

A/N: This got long... I coulda swore that I wrote a sick fic before, but I couldn’t find it and it’s one of my favorite tropes. So, you get another. Also, the boys get a little possessive/controlling here. If that's something you find uncomfortable feel free to skip.

Bruce Wayne:

You should have known something was wrong the moment Alfred knocked on your apartment door

"Alfred?"

"The doctor has recommended another forty-eight hours of rest."

"How do you know what my doctor said?" 

You had barely been home an hour.

"I may have been asked to ensure you follow their instructions." Alfred smiles glancing down at your work clothes as you cleaned the apartment before tilting his head in the direction of your open window.

"Bruce."

Alfred smiles apologetically, "I'm afraid so."

You sigh and rub the sweat off your forehead, “Could you just tell him it was a fluke?”

Alfred shakes his head, “You know as well as anyone, Bruce can see through lies.”

You glance at the pile of dishes you'd been working on, “Do you think I can finish those before he shows up?”

Alfred just shakes his head.

By the time Bruce arrives twenty minutes later, he somehow has another thermometer, a pulse oximeter, electrolyte drinks, and enough cold medicine to survive the next pandemic.

You blink, "Bruce. This is a bit much"

"Hm?"

"I already own a thermometer."

"I know."

"So why did you buy another one?"

"The batteries in yours are at sixty-three percent."

"How did you know that? I didn’t even know that"

"It seemed prudent."

“You're enjoying this.”

He looks vaguely offended, “I would never enjoy you being ill. But-”

He turns to look at you, “I do enjoy making sure you are well taken care of”

The room is silent for several minutes.

Bruce scribbles something into a small notebook.

You squint.

"And to think. You dropped out of medical school"

"I'm just recording your temperature."

"You've checked it four times."

"Five."

"Fine. Five. Bruce, you don't have to monitor me every thirty minutes."

"I know."

"...Then why are you?"

Bruce doesn't answer immediately.

Instead, he adjusts the blanket around your shoulders before speaking.

"Because I have spent too many years arriving too late."

The confession hangs between you.

You reach over and take his hand.

"You’ve never been late with me."

Bruce squeezes your fingers.

"And I intend to keep it that way."

Clark Kent

"You don't have to stay."

Clark smiles from where he's stirring soup, "I know."

"So why are you still here?" You ask,

He glances over his shoulder.

"Because you asked if I had to."

He pauses looking over at you like you hung the moon.

"You never asked if I wanted to."

You roll your eyes, "I'm contagious and gross."

Clark huffs, “You aren’t gross, but I understand your sentiment"

"You could get sick."

He chuckles.

"I'll survive."

The room falls comfortably quiet.

You cough.

Before you even realize you need one

A glass of water appears beside you.

Clark freezes, "Sorry."

"You used superspeed… again."

"Maybe."

"You don't even notice anymore, do you?"

He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly.

"Not always. Not when it’s something like this"

A few minutes later—

Clark looks over from his book.

"Your fever's coming back."

You stare.

"...I haven't even touched the thermometer."

"I know."

You grab the thermometer and sure enough, your temp is rising again.

"...Clark."

He sighs.

"I can hear your heartbeat."

"...Right."

"And your breathing."

"...uh huh."

His face reddens as he hands you an icepack, "...Sorry."

You can't help but laugh.

"You realize that's incredibly unfair."

He smiles.

"I've been told."

Later that night, you wake to find him still awake.

You mumble, "You should sleep."

"I will." He replies placing his hand to your forehead

"When?"

He smiles.

"When your fever drops."

Dick Grayson

"Dick."

"What?"

"I'm sick."

"I know."

"So why are you in my bed?"

He shrugs.

"I wanted to cuddle."

"You are literally lying in a quarantine zone."

"I've accepted my fate."

You groan into your pillow.

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

"Dick."

"Hm?"

"Leave."

"No."

He reaches over and absentmindedly brushes your hair away from your face.

"You look miserable."

"I feel miserable."

"I know."

A few minutes later

He gently scratches your scalp.

Your eyes drift closed despite yourself.

"...You're cheating."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." You can practically hear the grin in his voice. 

"You know this puts me to sleep."

"Mhm." He hums

"Shut up"

Hours pass.

You wake to the sound of a movie.

"...Again?"

Dick grins.

"You fell asleep before the opening credits this time."

"I've seen this movie."

"I know."

"You've watched it with me five times."

"I know."

"..."

"...We're watching it again."

You sneeze.

Dick instinctively kisses your forehead.

You recoil.

"Dick!"

"What?"

"I just sneezed on you!"

He wipes his cheek dramatically.

"I'll tell our children of my sacrifice."

"We don't have children."

"We won't if you keep trying to exile me."

You laugh hard enough to cough.

Immediately his hand is rubbing slow circles against your back.

"There she is."

"What?"

"That laugh."

His smile softens.

"I missed it."

Jason Todd

*knock knock knock*

“Ugh”

*knock knock knock*

You huff

*KNOCK*

*KNOCK*

*KNOCK*

You contemplate getting up for a moment just for the pounding in your head to stop

Until you hear it.

“Doll, you know I can get in another way.”

You told him over text, then over the phone.

He needs to stay away right now.

You glance at the windows

Locked.

He “lock pick proofed” the deadbolt.

You are probably okay.

Keys jingle outside the door.

Damn it…

The door unceremoniously pops open.

you gave him a key.

He sighs (likely at your miserable form)

“You can’t be here-”

Jason shakes his head, “Bullshit. I need to be here.”

You glance up, “Bruce is already pissed about you missing patrol for Roy’s birthday. ‘I want to helicopter mom, my sick partner’ isn’t gonna cut it.”

“Fuck Bruce.” You’re too exhausted to follow his voice as he walks to the kitchen.

He places something on the counter with a ‘thunk’.

“You’re pissed.”

He huffs, “You think?” A knife gradually gets louder as it cuts through something.

Celery maybe?

Jason continues, “I get a text at 5 in the morning while I’m Crime Alley, saying, “Don’t come home till late.”

*Chop chop*

“Then the next one says,’You’re good to come home”

Something goes into a put of liquid.

“So then I get off shift after trying to get an answer out of you all day to a spotless apartment and no you. But you know what I did find?”

A metal spoon scrapes the side of a pot.

“A cryptic note explaining that ‘you’re safe. But I need to stay away.-” 

You can hear the finger quotes rather than see them, “for my own good.’ Because you got sent to the ER from work with pneumonia"

In retrospect you probably could have worded it better.

The gas stove ignites.

You cough and you can feel it rack against your ribs.

The voice that comes out of your throat is probably just as sad as your current appearance, “Didn’t want you to catch it. Your lungs aren’t the best since-”

The spoon thwacks against the side of the pot, “Why do you get to worry about me to your own detriment but I can’t do the same.”

“Becuase you do it everyday for Gotham!” While it meant to come out determined and focused. Your lungs betray you yet again.

You sound a step away from death's door, “Some need to look out for you in return.”

Steps echo from the kitchen to your side and a hand delicately rubs your back while the other feels your forehead.

“You’re burning up. We need to cool you down.” Jason says, grabbing a bowl of soup before attempting to lift you up.

You pull away from his touch like he burned you, “I got it.”

He pulls back just for a moment before doubling down at your pale face, “No you don’t”

“Can’t you prioritize yourself for once?” You ask, allowing him to pick you up.

“Not if your happiness is on the line.” Jason places you in a much too cold (room temperature) tub.

Jason sits next to you on the bathroom tile, “Now, I am going to stay here and prioritize you and everything else. While you ‘prioritize yourself for once’”

You turn to look at him and finally notice the deep bags under his eyes and the concern that penetrates his blue-green irises.

“You’re not leaving are you?”

He shakes his head before tilting your head onto his shoulder, “Not unless you can find a hell of a lot better reason.”

Tim Drake

If you had been asked which of the Wayne son’s would be the most prone to clingy behavior, you’d likely have answered Dick Grayson

And that likely would have stayed through the beginning of your relationship with Tim.

Until, everything comes out about the Bats and Red Robin.

Now, he prefers to be by your side… all the time.

This is only magnified when you are sick.

You wake up feeling like you inhaled the Sahara to your boyfriend sitting at a desk next to your bed.

A desk that as far as you can remember, was in the basement yesterday.

“Tim” You grumble out

He turns to you suddenly, “Oh! You're up. That's good.”

You glare at the hunk of wood, “Why is there a desk in my bedroom?”

“Oh-” Tim vocalizes looking down at the desk, “I.. wanted to work.”

You tilt your head, “And you couldn’t have done that downstairs where it was?”

Tim matches your head tilt, “No?”

You lay your head back down, “Okay… I guess.”

Tim knew how awful you felt at that moment.

The next time you wake up it's a violent coughing fit.

Your eyes are watering, your throat burns.

Before your coughing fit has even finished, a glass of orange juice is already in your hands. 

You quickly lower the glass before looking back up.

As if he hadn’t just predicted your coughing pattern, Tim sits focused on a WE spreadsheet like you never even woke up.

Moments like these keep happening, but Tim refuses to accept your thanks or even acknowledge that they happened.

You were shivering and a blanket appeared.

You woke up to the beginning of your favorite movie.

An icepack was placed on your forehead.

Time moves slow and too fast all at once when suddenly you break the silence.

"Tim."

He tilts his head in your direction "Hm?"

His coffee is half drank

He brought a change of clothes

His robin suit is here

It’s like this has become his temporary batcave.

"You've been here for at least eighteen hours."

"I know."

"When did you sleep?" You ask trying to sit up

"..."

You glare at him "You didn't sleep."

"..."

"You are going to make yourself sick."

"...Probably."

You look at him in disbelief.

“No.” You say trying to push yourself up into a standing position.

He helps you stabilize in your attempt, “No?”

“Go sleep in the guest room. I don’t want to get you any more sick than I already have.”

Tim shrugs, “I don’t mind.”

You level with him, “Well I do.”

Tim walks over and hugs you, “"..."

"You planned this."you grumble

"No."

"..."

"I was hoping."

You try to pull back, “Please don’t get yourself purposefully sick so we can spend more time together.”

“I won’t… but if it happens-”

“TIM”

Conner Kent

It started with one text.

Con: How are you feeling?

You: Like death.

Con: Can I come over?

You smiled despite yourself.

You: No.

Three dots.

A second passes

Gone.

Another second

Con: Too late.

A knock echoed through your apartment.

You sigh, "Conner."

"You said no after I was already outside."

"You absolutely were not."

"I wasn't...But I am now."

The second you unlocked the door, Conner frowned.

"You look awful."

"Thank you Conner."

"I didn't mean-"

"I know."

He winced.

"I've never actually seen you sick before."

You shrugged, "I'd rather you didn't."

The first hour went surprisingly well.

He made soup.

Found your favorite blanket.

Even managed to remember which medicine you hated the least.

Until..

You coughed.

Hard.

Conner froze.

"You okay?"

You nodded.

He didn't look convinced.

The next thing you knew, he was pacing your apartment.

"Con?"

"Hm?"

"Sit down."

"Right."

He sat.

For approximately four seconds.

"Conner."

"Hm?"

"You are stressing me out."

"I'm not stressed."

You turn to glare at him, "You've reorganized my medicine cabinet. You alphabetized my tea."

He looks like a kicked puppy

"My tea, Con!" You empathize.

"I panicked."

You couldn't help but laugh.

Immediately

"Don't laugh."

"...Why?"

"You'll cough."

"That's actually kind of sweet."

His ears turned pink.

"I just don't like seeing you hurt."

That evening, you found him sitting on the floor beside your bed.

"Why are you down there?"

"So I don't accidentally wake you."

"You could've slept next to me." You groan feeling the soreness of your throat again

"I thought about it. But you told me I wasn't allowed to get sick."

You smile, "So you're listening now?"

"I listen."He pauses "...Sometimes."

You reached down from the bed, lazily threading your fingers through his hair.

He looked up immediately.

"Can I come up there now?"

You laughed.

"Only if you promise not to hover."

"I can do that."

"Probably."

You raised an eyebrow.

"Maybe."

"No promises."

He was in bed beside you before you could protest.

Damian Wayne (Aged-up):

“No”

“Damian, my dear. I just took medicine. I don’t need anymore.” You huff dodging the disgusting looking spoonful of purple liquid.

“In order to aid your white blood cells, the optimal dose of this brand of medicine is every two hours.” Damian states matter-of-factly.

You dodge again, “Maybe for children.”

Damian freezes, “You’re questioning my sources?”

This has been your life for the past three days.

You were an idiot (Damian had firmly established this)

In a desperate attempt to avoid Alfred doing bed checks, you jumped out of Damian’s second story window.

Soaking wet.

Into the snow.

And then walked home.

Not your brightest moment.

So now you have bronchitis.

And Damian is smothering you.

Damian glances down at his carefully crafted schedule and turns the clipboard in your direction.

“The mayo clinic says otherwise.”

Well... shit. 

He points to his APA reference list as proof.

You laugh with a cough "...Did you make a bibliography?" 

"It is alphabetized." He states handing you the purple medicine spoon again.

“Well, I think you should do some more research.” You bargain, attempting not to look at the slime, “Does a doctor really only use one source?”

He huffs and pulls out his laptop.

SUCCESS-

“Don’t think this gets you out of the rest of the day.”

Alright celebration postponed.

Damian turns and toss another blanket onto you, “I adjusted your schedule to sleep till 6pm so I’ll bring up your dinner of soup and then-”

Dear lord, he's going to caregiver me to death. 

He updates something on his spreadsheet. 

You attempt to bargain, “Beloved-”

“No”

“But!-”

“No”

You huff and remove a blanket after feeling like you are sitting inside of the world's fluffiest oven.

You stand for the first time all day and make a dangerous move.

You drape yourself over his shoulders and try again, “Beloved~”

He freezes, and desperately attempts to cover it up.

“You shouldn’t be standing. It will put unnecessary pressure on your lungs. Whatever you need-”

“-You can provide for me. I know.” You finish. Carefully gliding your fingers through his hair, “I just wanted to ask if I could go to the restroom or is that messing with you agenda too much?”

He’s quiet as you rub your fingers against his scalp.

“Fine, but you will sleep when you get back. I will ensure it happens. Your body needs it.”

You nod with a smile, “Of course”

You may be ill, but you run faster than you thought possible to the kitchen of Wayne Manor.

You whisper yell, “Alfred!”

The butler in question appears behind you silently causing you to jump.

“Yes?”

After swallowing your scream you briefly begin to explain the situation.

“I need help.” You explain the medication routine, the organized food intake, the enforced sleep schedule.

“I love him, you know that.” You explain as Alfred blinks in your direction, “But I just need one moment alone.”

Alfred glances over your shoulder before lowering his voice.

"You know, when Master Bruce was your age, he was rather fond of sneaking out as well."

You blink.

"I mention that because..." His gaze drifts toward the window. "While you did manage to avoid Master Damian's notice that evening, the rather impressive dent you left in the fountain did not escape mine."

...

Your blood runs cold.

Alfred folds his hands behind his back. "Now, I am not one to snitch, as you and Master Tim so eloquently put it..."

"But if you were to disappear again, I fear I might have to mention both your little excursion... and the state of the fountain... to Master Bruce."

You lock eyes with the man and consider your options.

Let Damian fuss over you until you are “returned to an approved level of health” or risk telling your boyfriend's father that you’ve been sneaking into his youngest son’s room at night.

You lock eyes with the man and consider your options.

Let Damian fuss over you until you were "returned to an approved level of health," or explain to your boyfriend's father why you'd been sneaking into his youngest son's bedroom in the middle of the night.

...Yeah. There wasn't really a choice.

You point back toward your boyfriend's room.

"I'm just going to... go then."

Alfred smiles.

"Master Damian has been quite worried."

You shut the bedroom door behind you with a resigned sigh.

"Ya eumri," Damian says without looking up from his laptop, "you are fifteen seconds behind schedule."

"I was negotiating my release."

"Denied."

"...I noticed."

He closes the laptop and gestures toward the bed.

"I found a study suggesting skin-to-skin contact may increase endorphin production and reduce stress."

You narrow your eyes.

"Are you prescribing a cuddling session?"

"I am following the available evidence." He states.

You glance over at his textbook before he turns you around.

"Get in the bed."

[kay-imma-head-out]

Hi! I love your writing! I was wondering if you could do Batboys x fem reader when they go to the beach and their girlfriend wears a bikini of the same colors or has the symbol of their vigalantie costume?

You Stepped Inside With a Vibe I Ain't Never Seen 

Batfam x Female Reader

Clark Kent x Female Reader

Conner Kent x Female Reader

Includes: Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Conner Kent, and Damian Wayne

A/N: I’VE BEEN THINKING ON THIS ONE ANON. I’ve been watching way too much love island to not love a bikini prompt. Also… I had a little fun with this prompt for one of them (you’ll know which).

Bruce Wayne:

“I have to say Bruce, this is a weird one.” I say watching the (very kind) women slather me with some sort of coconut scented oil.

Bruce flips down his newspaper already dressed in his “summer apparel”

“Out of all the things I've done.” Bruce says, “This is the one that gives you pause.”

You tilt your head over the woman, “Staging a makeout session on a private beach to lure paparazzi pictures, to end a petty rivalry with Oliver Queen over a comment he made while off his ass drunk.”

Bruce levels a look at you, “He called me a prude”

“You kinda are one.”

“Darling! I am a playboy-”

You hold up a hand, “Former playboy.”

“I am the best.”

“You are the charming father figure billionaire in the eyes of Gotham. Everyone still thinks you're hot.”

Bruce walks over gently fanning away the woman in front of you, “I still got it.”

You nod, “I know you do, so why are we trying to prove it.”

“Sue me, I want to make out with my black bikini wearing wife on my own beach.”

You look down at the suit, “Is this that same suit that I was wearing when I got featured on that bulletin board for Wayne Enterprises?”

Bruce huffs.

“Oh my god it is!” You wack him, “I’m wearing your name.”

He shrugs, “It could have been your name too.”

“Your ego wounds me.” You turn and sure enough the WE logo is lightly stitched into the bottoms of your trunks.

“Yes, I am a shallow petty man. Can we go relax on the beach now?” Bruce grumbles into your neck

“These better be damn good pictures if I'm wearing your name on my ass.”

He kisses your temple, "You always look good."

You roll your eyes and turn toward the beach.

A camera clicks.

Bruce smiles.

"Perfect."

"You don't even know if they got the shot."

"I wasn't talking about the paparazzi."

Then

Smack.

“Motherfucker”

Clark Kent

It was a surprise you'd been working on for months.

Subtle enough that he notices but not so loud that people say you simp for a kryptonian.

Safe to say, it worked.

Maybe a little too well.

Clark had gone completely silent the second you walked out in the blue bikini with the tiny red-and-yellow crest stitched over your hip. 

"Clark?"

Nothing.

"...Clark?"

His eyes finally lifted from the crest stitched into the side of your bikini.

"...You..."

"Do you hate it?"

"I think I stopped breathing."

You've been on your back in the sand for at least fifteen minutes.

Clark’s hands moving up and down your side.

His lips have been all over your lips, cheek, neck, arms.

You're surprised you haven't been kicked out yet.

Then in the distance, “There are other people here?!?”

In the brief pause, you roll out from under him.

“Sorry!” You yell giving a thumbs up to the grumpy grandma in the distance.

Clark just stares for a moment.

You turn to lock eyes with him, “I’m beginning to question my stance on the whole ‘superman wants a harem’ thing”

Clark’s face doesn’t falter as he leans in for another kiss.

You pull away, “I don’t want to get banned from this beach.”

With little other dialogue, Clark picks you up over his shoulder.

“HEY!”

You feel him shrug, “You didn’t want to get banned from the beach.”

You huff and wave to the disgruntled old lady as she glares at you while Clark walks you back to the hotel.

“Can you let me down now?” You ask feeling a bit like a child on the way to time out.

He shakes his head before kissing your ankle, “Superman has to fly, sweetheart.”

Dick Grayson

“You can’t be serious.” You ask

Your arms are crossed glaring at the ‘swimsuit’ Dick had picked out for you

Its not the cut or style of it per se rather the fact that is just the nightwing logo.

“Who even makes this?”

Dick hugs you from behind, “I had it custom made.”

“Offffff course you did.” You mumble.

He shrugs with a wide grin, “A bets a bet.”

You sigh, “a bet's a bet.”

You bet he couldn’t stop self-sacraficing his own mental health for others for a week.

He proved you wrong 

Leading to this monstrosity.

You walk out of the bathroom feeling like a younger sister in an ugly pair of hand me downs. 

“I look ridiculous." You gesture down.

“You look hot.”

You shake your head, “You’re just saying that.”

“Nope,” he says, twirling you around, “You look mine.”

You laugh, “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

He chuckles in response, “No, but it makes me feel better.”

“Oh? And why is that?” You ask angrily grabbing the beach bag.

“Because whenever you get flirted with by random beach bros, I know you are wearing my symbol even if they don’t.” He whispers in your ear.

“This will be the most fun I’ve had at the beach in years.” Dick announces dragging you out of the apartment with a pep in his step.

Jason Todd

Jason hates the ‘Wayne Family Fashion Show’ for many reasons

Its dumb

Its for an unfairly good cause

And he gets dragged into it every year.

Except this year, he was going to watch in the crowd with you and laugh at his siblings misfortune (While donating a large amount of his ‘prince of gotham’ money for Gotham Public Schools)

And it works so well.

He got Roy in on it.

You agreed to it (despite your initial sadness at not seeing him in this years ‘swimwear’ theme).

The family has left him alone.

It's going to be an amazing night.

Or it was.

Cass and Stephanie grabbed you from your spot the moment he let go of your hand.

He reaches to go after you only to be blocked by the cement wall that is Alfred Pennyworth.

Fuck

He turns to glare at the curtain only to be shocked to see you smiling at him.

Your body is covered entirely by the curtain.

The worst part of this is he couldn’t even enjoy mocking his siblings because he was too busy trying not to look nauseous in preparation for you walking across that stage

There were subtle nods to the justice league all night (likely in honor of their recent save of metropolis) until you walked out.

Clad in a red and black bikini that looked sinfully good on you and a muzzle style helmet that he is almost sure you stole from the safehouse.

The only visible part of your face is your eyes.

Always so expressive and even more vibrant against the red of the muzzle.

You slow down for just a second a wink at him

The blood ran from his face as fast as the cameras ran to it.

Roy snorts beside him.

Within seconds Roy is doubled over in his chair.

Jason doesn't even look away from you.

"...I'm going to kill you."

You blow him a kiss through the muzzle.

He sighs.

"...After I get to take that muzzle off."

Fuck, you got him good.

Tim Drake

Tim has been focused, so fucking focused for the past three weeks.

Yes he is saving the world

Yes he is very important to everyone and not just you, but would it kill him to eat dinner with you?

Your back hurts from that damn chair in his room and you refuse to settle for this as normal.

So you decide that two can play this game.

You propose a beach day.

You got approval from Bruce, Lucius, Alfred, and everyone in the Wayne hemisphere.

You try to get him to come along, but again you are shut down.

This is where knowing your boyfriend's stalker (‘protective’) habits comes in handy.

You buy a new bikini. 

It's the perfect mix of yellow, red, and black.

You think you look amazing.

So does everyone else at the beach.

When the first person walks up to you, you set a timer.

The drive from Wayne Manor to the beach is an hour forty five.

He shows up in an hour fifteen.

He is in full nepobaby mode.

Decked out in hermes, tom ford, and a necklace your pretty sure is yours

Despite what Tim claims, you weren’t flirting and his many cameras prove that.

But, it did feel nice to be appreciated…

Tim shrunk a bit at that.

“I’ll work on it.”

You nod, "That's all I ask.”

Tim turns you away from the bar, “Can I ask you something?”

You nod expecting a continued train of thought and reply, “Of course.”

“Can I take that off of you with my teeth later?”

“TIM!”

Conner Kent:

“Goddamn it!” Conner yells from the laundry room.

A shirt hits the tile with a wet smack.

“Conner! Forget the damn jacket we need to go!” Tim yells.

Conners had been looking for that jacket for at least 25 minutes.

“It was right here? Where the fuck-”

Tim huffs before grabbing onto his best friends shoulders and starts pulling him away from the laundry.

The effect of a human attempting to drag a half-kryptonian is as effective as he predicted.

“Did you text her?” Tim asks, continuing his fruitless effort of pulling Con away from his task.

“She’s at a bachelorette party for her best friend. I am not about to interrupt that because I lost my jacket.”

Eventually, Connor conseeds and does patrol without his signature leather jacket.

Young Justice was already concerned about Conner being able to stay on task without you to go home to, but now he’s without his jacket too.

Rather than complaining the whole time, Conner was just bummed.

Acting instead like a kicked puppy rather than a vengeful god.

Which is why his sudden change in demeanor was so confusing.

There was no random laughter, or “ah ha” moment.

Conner just started smiling and went back to work.

This… pissed Tim off.

Conner had been detached all day.

What suddenly fixed it?

And can he replicate that and bottle it for necessary moments?

So, like any best friend. 

He grabs Con’s phone and to be honest… he shouldn’t have been surprised.

It was already his new wallpaper.

You sit on the beach face towards the horizon back towards the camera.

The sunset bounces off your skin like gold.

Tim traces the tan lines over your shoulder of where a bikini once was that now stands bright against the warmer tones of a new tan.

Your bare back looks like a piece of art designed by the sun itself.

The only piece of clothing drapes off your elbows, his jacket.

Damian Wayne (Aged-up):

You spent days trying to find the perfect shade of green to his costume.

Most were too light, then you found it.

Perfect, hunter green with gold accents.

It

Was 

Perfect.

Well you thought it was

You had hoped for something from Damian.

He was never a man of many compliments, but he has barely said a word to you all day.

You’ve never been to a private school ‘beach bash’ before, but who would have thought it would be so boring.

Damian’s barely looked at you, your friends weren’t invited, and Damian’s friends were actively trying to flirt with a blonde at the "charcuterie chalet” (A literal house made out of deli materials)

So you decide to just lay in the sand.

You don’t realize how much time has gone by before the ruckus starts.

Assuming the volleyball court had gotten heated again you don’t turn around.

Until, a heavy thud is spiked right next to your head.

You adjust your sunglasses before turning.

Damian’s gone

You flip open the book and there lays multiple sketches of you laying in the sand.

The only color is your suit and its accents.

You flip the page and there's more

And more

And more.

But the last one is only half done.

Brushing the sand off the best you can, you hunt down your boyfriend.

Damian having been separated was being ranted at by a teacher.

So you stand and wait only to be passed by one of his brothers (who snuck in who knows how).

The brother winks and says as he passes, “Damian isn’t half as subtle with you as you think he is.”

As he walks away he taps the book with a smug smile.

You catch Damian’s eyes as he looks at the book in your hand and rolls his eyes before slinking back into his chair.

[kay-imma-head-out]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do one of the Batboys x fem reader of this prompt:

Person A: what are you doing?

Person B hanging upside down from monkeybars: trying to kiss you

Person A: your gonna fall

Person B: shut up and kiss me, asshole I'm getting lightheaded

I Know Everybody Changes But I Hope That We Don’t

Batfam x Reader

Clark Kent x Reader

Includes: Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne

A/N: The way I had to fight the urge to reference spiderman this whole time. Some liberties were taken with the setting and wording just to keep each feeling fresh, but I tried to stay committed to the source material you sent (adorable prompt btw, my sass came out again with this one. So apologies if I laid it on a bit thick. But I think it came out pretty cute anyway. We need some fluff after two angstier ones)

Bruce Wayne:

For the upper echalion, Burce Wayne’s galas are the height of the season.

For you, it's a bit dull four hours in.

You danced until your feet hurt.

You don’t really want to drink as tonight is one of Bruce’s designated ‘Brucie Wayne’ nights.

So you make small talk, wonder around, and ponder if going to the bathroom again would look weird, just for something to do.

A crash is sounded over where your husband is ‘supposed’ to be and you can feel the blossoming of Alfred's headache across the manor.

You laugh lightly at the women you are with saying something about, “My circus my monkey.” before walking into the frey.

“Darling! Perfect timing.”

Dear lord, why did you get up?

In front of you a supposedly drunk Bruce Wayne is attempting to climb onto the chandelier. 

After about a moment of thought you shrug and begin to assist your husband onto the chandelier.

Tabloids, Alfred, and personal dignity be damned, you were bored.

And whatever happens it will be a lot more interesting then yelling at him

So up he goes, much to the enjoyment of your husband and the surrounding bourgeoisies.

The chandelier swings back and fourth, with your husband laying upside down from it.

If this ever gets back to Dick, he's going to be pissed.

Bruce actively achieved the thing he always wanted to do as a small child in front of the elite of Gotham.

“Come on Bruce! Add some more weight!” A drunk man responds.

In a move much too fluid for a drunk man, Bruce picks you up to the whoops of the crowd.

“You’re a dumbass.”

Bruce shrugs, “It was a slow night.”

“You’re going to drop me. How did you even manage-?”

The kiss was sudden and everything youd been missing this evening.

After finally getting the chandelier to stop, Bruce puts you down and follows you to the door only to stop once and slide the drunk man from earlier 50 bucks.

“Bruce!”

He laughs. The real one for just a second, “You looked like you were watching paint dry. It was killing me, so I decided to spruce it up a bit.”

Clark Kent

“And no X-Ray vision!” You ramble as you steer Clark towards the corner of his farm home.

He huffs, “It wounds me that you think I would cheat.”

You hum, “Of course. Thats totally not what happened last time.”

“You never said I couldn’t listen for you.”Clark quips.

“I said you could listen, not track my heartbeat!”

“I do that all the time. It’s hard to turn off.”

“Aww-” you smile at him before turning him to face the corner of the wall, “Now count to 120, and no cheating, fly boy.”

“Yes Ma’am” Clark replies, “1, 2, 3, 4, -”

Hide and seek has become a beloved tradition in your relationship.

Clark uses it as a training exercise while you just think its a fun activity to kill some time.

Over the course of your relationship, its gotten significantly hard to avoid Clark.

But this time you've got a plan.

Pa Kent told you about an old hayloft that they haven’t used in over a decade.

Its perfect, far away and surrounded to try and hide your heartbeat within the cows, high up so Clark would have to look around, and covered in hay so you have a built in camouflage.

Willing to risk, life, limb, and you allergies: you climb into the loft and prepare for alot of ‘mooing’ from the cattle in the matching fence.

You don’t hear anything for a very long time. 

Almost thinking you got away with it until you hear him whistle as he walks through the cows.

True to form the reason it took so long is that he saw the cows trough was empty and decided to fill it to make it easier on Pa Kent.

The sound of the cow feed hits the metal trough with many dull thuds.

“I gotta say, sweetheart, you almost had me this time. But one thing you should know is that Pa cannot keep secrets.”

Clarks boots stop just under the hay loft.

“He ratted me out?”

Clark laughs, “Not on purpose, he was afraid you'd get stuck.”

“Ye of little faith.” You pop up from your spot covered in hay and dust and a bit of bitterness.

“Ma gave him what for, for ‘ruining our fun’” Clark laughs.

You move to sit on the edge of the loft before deciding to swing upside down to meet him halfway.

Now face to face with him you lose yourself in the crystal blue of his eyes before quickly shaking yourself out of it, “I knew I always liked her.”

He smiles back at you, “Do I get my rewards now?”

You nod, “I suppose. Even though you cheated… again-”

Clark cuts you off by pulling you in.

The fake anger on your face melts off the moment your lips meet.

He pulls away just barely and lightly wipes your lip.

You kiss his forehead.

“I love you,” he whispers.

You smile and run your hand through his hair, “I love you too… for a cheater.”

“I didn’t cheat!”

“Tell that to Ma.”

Dick Grayson

“You are the only man I know who wants to hang out at a playground for fun.” You laugh as you're being excitedly dragged to the neighbor park.

“It is gorgeous today, and a playground is basically an outside gym.” Dick responds, refusing to dull his enthusiasm.

You are pulled past a group of small children, “I think that nine year old would disagree.”

He scoffs, “Who are you today? The fun police.”

He stops and places his hands on your shoulders and moves you one step to the left leaving you standing right next to the monkey bars.

“No,” You reply, “Just vaguely concerned about your thought process.”

Dick swings up the monkey bars with ease, “This is genius.”

As if timed by the gods a soccer ball rolls up to your foot.

“Ma’am! Can you throw it back?” A small child asks from across the field.

You grab it and toss it in their direction.

“I bet they think your a genius too, sir” You laugh.

You watch Dick do pull ups.

One

Two 

Three

Four-

Okay, you're bored.

You pull yourself to the top of the bars and sit across from him.

“Legitamently, is there a reason you wanted me to come along?”

Dick continues his work out but flashes you a mock offended face, “It would be weird for an adult without a child to come to the park alone-”

“HA!”

“-AND don’t pretend I had to drag you here. I catch you watching me work out at home all the time-”

“HEY”

Dick laughs, “Sticking to one syllable words now?”

“I’ve got a few more for you, Fu-”

“My dear! Trying to swear at a playground.” He huffs pulling himself into a handstand above the monkey bars facing you, “Think of the children.”

The soccer ball comes flying back somehow landing perfectly in the gap between the bars between you too.

“SORRY MAAM.”

A different child runs towards you, “Are you going to kiss?”

Both you and Dick turn to face the small child and reply together, “No?”

“Oh” the kid huffs then yells back, “I told you they weren’t dating!”

You scoff and turn to laugh with your boyfriend at the out of pocket comment when (still in a headstand) he moves forward one rung, then another in your direction.

You lean back, “What are you doing?”

He looks at you like you just asked why the sky was blue, “trying to kiss you”

“Are you threatened by a group of children?”

Dick rolls his eyes, “Shut up and kiss me, asshole I'm getting lightheaded”

“Some world class acrobat huh-”

He kisses you fast, cutting off your quip.

In the distance the kids cheer, “I told you so!”

Jason Todd

*Thunk*

*Stomp Stomp*

Jason’s Back!

“Doll! how many times do I have to warn ya. You gotta lock the windows at night.”

You lean in the doorway of the living room and watch as he tosses his jacket onto the coat rack.

“Jay, you always come in that window. I doubt anyone else is going to climb up 6 flights to break in through that” you point to the middle window “window. It basically has your name on it.”

Jaso walks back to the window and closes the lock with a thwack, “This is gotham. I’ve seen robbers scale much higher buildings.”

You laugh, “Those ‘higher buildings’have alot more expensive stuff than your Jane Austen collection and my assortment of various trinkets and collectables.”

Jason shakes his head fervently, “No they don’t”

A huff bubbles up from your throat, “Does your book collection cost more than I thought-”

“This apartment has you in it.” He says.

His tone is steady.

There's no doubt or humor in his wording.

If anything he's offended at your flippant response.

“You are the most valuable thing in Gotham. So… I need you to lock the window.”

You blink.

The smile slips from your face.

"Jason..."

He looks genuinely confused.

"What?"

As if he hadn't just said something that made your heart stop.

A sigh, you glance over at the window you shrug in resignation, “I’ll try, but if you lock yourself out-”

“I can get in, doll.”

A Week Passes

Jason did lock himself out and almost broke the window lock in the process.

So, back open it goes. 

Much to Jason’s chagrin.

He asks you to close it

You explain the almost broken lock.

So… Jason comes up with a plan.

He didn’t want to scare you too badly, just enough to let you see what he was thinking about the safety of the apartment.

*Thunk*

*Thunk*

That damn woodpacker.

It's been hounding the window all night.

You walk over to the window to show it away and before you can register it.

A body in a black mask tries to swing his way into the apartment.

Moving on reflexes alone. You push with all your might and swing him back hard enough that he loses his hand hold.

You grab the bat Jason leaves against the window frame and wind back-

“WAIT”

Jason takes off the ski mask.

Almost deciding to follow through anyway you scream, “YOU SON OF A BITCH”

Jason’s uncontrollable laughter starts and you swear you almost wind the bat again.

But rather than making your boyfriend you go to slam the window shut.

“Doll! Hey whatcha doin!”

So, you lock the window.

Fully expecting him to make it in after a while.

But he doesn’t

He just kinda swings there.

You decide to check on him after about 15 minutes.

The window opens with little force, “You done?” 

“I was just waiting for… a lead” He grumbles.

You look up and realize the problem.

After pushing him, his foot got stuck in the fire escape.

You begin to hysterically laugh in return

Jason nods, “Yes, yes, I’m an ass. Can you help me down? I’m starting to feel like shit”

You laugh one more time before saying, “One sec,”

Pulling him by his black turtleneck, you swing him into a kiss.

You pull away after a second with a sigh, “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

Eventually, you get him down (much to your older upstairs neighbors' annoyance).

After that, you leave the lock on and Jason promises to never prank you again.

Tim Drake

“I don’t think Bruce made that to be used that way!” You yell.

You’ve walked into many different situations in the batcave.

But your boyfriend strapped to a table upside down while working on the back of the batcomputer is something new.

Tim shrugs before verbalizing, “If it works it works.”

The steps you take further into the batcave are slightly wet with each step as you grow closer to your boyfriend, “You look like a superspy who is about to be threatened with a laser.”

Tim laughs as he continues to work on the machine in front of him, “I’ll never tell you where she is! I’d rather die.”

You stand just below him and replay in a terrible attempt at a villainous accent, “Be ready to die then, Timothy Drake.”

In the midst of your banter, Tim drops the wrench he is using.

It clatters on the ground with an ear shattering ring. 

“You know…” Tim says looking dejectedly at the fallen wrench.

His hair sticking up from his upside down position.

“I’m beginning to think this isn’t the best way to accomplish this.”

“Hmm” You hum as you grab the wrench and hand it back to him, “You think?”

As you attempt to hand him the wrench he playfully grabs your wrist and pulls you up with him towards the top of the cave.

“On the brightside-” He says, ignoring your yelp of fear as you shoot up towards the stalactites on the roof of the cave, “I’ve been wanting to show you this.”

Through a hole at the top of the cave leaves a small ravine with bioluminescent algae lighting up what should be an entirely dark spot with a faint green glow that reflects of the rock walls and the water it grows in.

“It’s gorgeous” You say pulling yourself free from the table.

Tim nods.

“How did you find it?”

Tim shrugged, “Got bored.”

“Can you get off of there so I can kiss you please,” You turn watching your boyfriend relax in his upturned position.

Tim laughs, “Why can’t that be accomplished when I'm like this?”

Tim grabs your arm and pulls you towards him.

“Becuase it weird and I’m worried your going to black out”

He scoffs, “Please, I’ve done handstands longer than this.”

You yield, allowing yourself to be pulled in.

The kiss is only known by you and the light of the cave.

Damian Wayne (Aged-up):

Damian’s premed lectures are long.

Like four/five hours long.

But you walk to dinner on Thursdays.

So you wait and wait… and wait

While you wait, your mind twists and turns as you look at the large blooming crab apple tree sitting in your school oval.

Climbing that would be ridiculous.

But the time moves slowly and eventually you yield.

Climbing up was easy, climbing down?

Not so much.

Luckily, it was comfortable and you had alot of time to kill.

If Damian finds you stuck in a tree you will never hear the end of it.

This thought doesn’t arrive in your mind until about three minutes until his lecture lets out.

You make it down about half way when you hear, “Ya qalbi”

Oh no… think fast

“Beloved?”

Damian appears below your tree and you feel a push on the back of your foot.

It swings you almost in a full circle before you become face to face with your boyfriend…

Kind of.

You laugh at the unimpressed look on your rightside up boyfriends face, “Huh, fancy seeing you here.”

Damian’s eyes shoot up towards the obvious trail you made in the tree marked by broken branches and the scratches up and down your arm.

“Was this really pertinent?” He asks.

“Of course, I… wanted to feel like a fruit bat.” You smile, “They sleep upside down you know.”

‘Hmm.” He hums, “I don’t believe I’ve ever interacted with a bat with so many sticks in its hair.”

Damian grabs a loose flower that somehow got stuck in your hair on your journey.

He then moves onto a twig.

He slowly unwraps the knot around the stick before gently pulling it out.

You grab the flower adorned stick and delicately place it behind his ear.

You lean forward for a kiss when Damian pulls away, “You are going to fall.”

You roll your eyes and kiss him anyway.

“You would catch me.” You say after as he attempts to remove you from the tree.

“Yes, beloved, I would.”

[kay-imma-head-out]

Kryptonite Seems to Grow on Trees These Days

Superfam x Reader

Includes: Clark Kent, Conner Kent, Kara Zor-El, and Jonothan Kent.

Summary: Kryptonite wounds were cruel. The crystal embedded itself like living glass. Trying to remove it usually shattered it into smaller fragments, poisoning Kryptonians even faster. Unless it threatened a major artery or organ, the safest treatment was to let their bodies slowly reject it.  Your partner is lying by your side, sick, dying, and all you can do is wait and hope that the kryptonite pushes its way out of your partner's body before the exposure kills them.

A/N: I TOLD YOU I WOULD MAKE IT UP TO THE SUPERFANS. But y'all can't escape the angst. It’s only fair after all.

Clark Kent

Clark has explained his experience with Kryptonite to you before.

The blackening veins

The fever

The exhaustion.

But seeing it and not being able to do anything is extremely different than a simple conversation.

The justice league left to recon the buildings around you are in rubble.

But you sit on one of the few remaining concrete slabs holding Clark's hand.

You don’t have the medical knowhow to remove the kryptonite from Clark's collar, but you contemplate it anyway despite what Batman and the others told you.

“It will work its way out of his system. He will be fine.”

But you look down at your boyfriend in agony as he tries to remain conscious, and begin to question how much you trust the man in a bat costume.

Your hand raises without permission and lightly traces the small chunk of green siting against his body.

If you could just…-

Clark’s hand shoots up and grabs onto yours

“Sweetheart, don’t”

You glance up at him still tracing the mineral, “But I can get it and then you will heal and-”

He shakes his head, “It's already splintering. If anyone tries to pull it out, it'll shatter into dozens of pieces. My body has to force it back out slowly. ”

Your eyes flit from his to your hand and back, “That could happen anyway.”

He nods, “It might.”

A humorless laugh comes out of your mouth, “Was that supposed to make me feel better?”

He shakes his head, “No, but I’m hoping it will make you lay with me while we wait for the inevitable.”

You pull away from the rock and lay against him on the warm concrete.

You try and fail to ignore the darkened veins around his neck as you lay together.

Hoping fate decides to let you continue together.

Kara Zor-El 

The most recent battle was long and hard

It took the lives of many civilians in the process, almost including your best friend.

So for the past 72 hours, you have been parked in the ER.

Much to their chagrin.

You’ve made friends with the nurses, threatened the life of an asshole doctor, and figured out which pudding flavor is the best in the hospital cafeteria.

All while your girlfriend refuses to answer her phone.

The day of the battle, you explained the situation to her and she's been absent ever since.

At first you didn’t worry but as you inch closer to day 4, you are growing concerned.

“My dear, as much as I love having you here. You need to find her. It’s eating you alive and it's kinda driving me crazy.” You look over as your friend throws a plastic cup at you.

You shake your head, “I promised your mom that I would stay-”

“-Until I was out of the danger zone.” They gesture down, “Which I am. So I say this with all the love in my heart go find her before she kills herself.”

You nod grumpily before rushing home.

The apartment is a mess when you arrive back.

You look around attempting to find any trace of your girlfriend, only to find her sitting still fully in her supersuit in the bathtub.

“Kara? What are you-” You stop looking at the large green glowing rock sticking out of her thigh.

You drop the bags in your arm before rushing over to her, “Why didn’t you tell me.”

Kara shakes her head, “Wasn’t as important.”

“Bullshit, let me help you get it out.” You climb into the bath while leaning against the faucet head preparing to pull out the rock.

She pulls her leg up with a wince, “No we can’t pull it out.”

You scoff, “like hell we can’t”

She looks at you, her eyes bloodshot the black veins making their way to the whites of her eyes.

“Its right next to an artery.” She groans pointing to her leg.

“Why couldn’t the league remove it?” You ask angrily watching a swirl of blood float from the wound.

Kara sighs, “Right now it's too close to the artery. If they operate, it'll shatter. They have to wait until my body pushes it into a safer position.”

You glare at her, “That was reckless. Moving too much could shift it into the artery”

Kara looks at you for a moment, “I suppose, but I couldn’t be there anymore. I had to make sure you were okay. I couldn’t hear you from the fortress.”

You huff but relent, “So we just wait?”

She nods, “It is supposed to come out on its own.”

You shake your head, “Fuck.”

She nods, “You should go back to the hospital.”

You grab onto her hand, “No, I’m not letting you go through any more of this alone.” 

Conner Kent

You never know exactly what to expect when Conner comes home, but you really weren’t thinking he would walk in on your Thursday date night with a bundle of daisies and a mortal wound that would kill anyone else.

“I made it with time to spare!” He announces smiling, looking almost indifferent to the kryptonite in his abdomen.

You run to stand up and just look at him.

Conner isn’t as affected by kryptonite due to his genetics, but you can tell that he is still in some extreme pain.

“Con, sit down.” You say walking over to him.

You lightly guide him towards the couch.

“What? No! It’s date night. You've been excited all week. I got us a reservation at that new pizza place you were excited about.” Conner explains.

Your shoulders slump a bit at Conner’s explanation and obvious upset face as he explains.

“Con, I would love to do that another night, but I can’t enjoy us being together if I’m worried about you.”

He points to the rock, “This? This is nothing. Doc says it'll fall out in a few hours.”

He flashes you a grin, clearly trying to hide how much the wound actually hurts. “Being half-human has its perks.”

You shake your head, “Then let's stay together till it does, Mr. Half-Human”

He smiles before letting himself be walked by you to your bedroom, “You care about me, huh?”

You laugh, “Yes, Conner Kent, I care about you a lot. Now sit your ass down.”

Jonathan Kent (Aged-Up):

Jon has never experienced kryptonite in person before, so of course his first encounter is it being impaled into his body.

His screams are deafening as you adjust his suit around the neon mineral.

“I’m sorry Jon but I need to see it.” You explain feeling more evil than the person who stabbed him in the first place.

“Just take it out!” He yells beginning to thrash.

Clark and Con fly over to hold him down, while Lois tries to calm him down while you fight to look at the damn rock.

You finally get a chance to look at the impalement, “Fuck… FUCK!”

You yell.

“Hey, can we take it out?” Lois asks.

You look over at your boyfriend's mom and shake your head, “It’s barbed. If I take it out it will drag and at best cause more internal damage and at worst break apart.”

Lois thinks as the other Kents fight to hold down your partner.

“I-” You stutter, “I’m going to call Dr. Mid-night. I can’t do this”

You look over to Lois, and plead her to understand.

You could likely remove it, but its Jon.

Your Jon

And he is in so much pain. You can feel that if you tried to remove it you would only cause more problems.

Lois nods, “Just stay with him, please. I’ll call for the doctor.”

So Lois leaves and you take her spot, holding Jon’s head and whispering sweet nothings while hoping the doctor can make it before the kryptonite harms him anymore.

[kay-imma-head-out]

I would love to see a fanfic about Bruce wayne x wife!reader who gets killed by joker, i wonder how the batfam reacts..

*Cue Everything is romantic so it would sting harder*

— 🦢 reader

Swan Song

Bruce Wayne / Reader

Mom/Guardian Reader x batfam

Includes: Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Cassandra Cane, and Damian Wayne

ANGST (LIKE SO MUCH ANGST)

A/N: Oh my swan friend… you walked me into a lions den with this one. Now we gotta strike the super boys for this one but fear not. I have a plan. But I digress, for the sake of my brain they all grew up with reader in the house so a connection is there. Also because screw it… I’m adding Alfred and Cass.

Damian Al-Ghul-Wayne (Shock):

Informed: 4:05 July 5th by Alfred Pennyworth

Damian was beyond angry that he was not brought for your rescue.

It was an outrage

He deserves to see your excitement at his skills as much as everyone else.

So much so that he waits for you to arrive back.

He sits with his latest art grade in his head ready to steal your attention back with his 105%.

When the butler walks in.

Alfred explains

Slowly

To slowly for Damian’s preference but… he understands anyway.

He kicks Alfred out of the room

Claiming he needed sleep

But truthfully

Damian feels ill.

He begins listing his symptoms

His heart has a physical ache

The ache seemed to mess with his standard rhythm.

His stomachs turns in on itself

The world has black spots

He grows unnaturally warm

The world darkens

He wakes eventually feeling no less ill.

Unaware of the symptoms of shock

“Perhaps” he thinks, “I’ll rejoin her soon”

Alfred Pennyworth (Anger):

Informed: 4:02am July 5th by Jason Todd aka Red Hood

Bruce is a walking ghost when he arrives placing your limp body on a table before stumbling off to do god knows what.

Alfred’s anger doesn’t appear like the other members of the family.

It stews and sits, watching Bruce do that same thing he did with Jason.

Alfred was so close to you.

You were perfect for the family.

You were bright but interesting

Intelligent yet able to play a ditz when needed

You could manage a conversation with Bruce in any of his moods.

You raised dick, Jason, Tim and cass into the fine adults they are today (he refuses to give Bruce much credit in that regard)

Damian trusts you more than Talia and Bruce combined

But you left

You allowed yourself to get captured

Alfred is seething at you from beyond the grave.

All his hard work, for nothing.

He has to go back to the drawing board before Jason does something reckless.

Jason Todd (Bargaining):

Informed: 3:55am July 5th. Witnessed Reader being carried by Bruce Wayne.

Jason is the first to make it back to the cave.

He screams the events to Alfred before running away.

He is about to do something awful.

But… this is the only option

The family won’t-…

HE won’t survive without you

He’s lost everyone else

You never left him

Never hurt him

Took him back in the second he showed his face to you

So he’s not about to abandon you either.

So… he goes the one place he knows can fix something of this magnitude.

The league of assassins: Bruce Wayne be damned

Tim Drake (Denial):

Informed: 3:55am July 5th. Witnessed Reader being carried by Bruce

“Bruce” Tim almost begs, “let me see.”

Bruce refuses to let him see his mothers body.

He can easily solve this problem if Bruce would let him in.

Tim is a genius of course he can solve death.

Worst case: his ability at cloning has improved tenfold

But truthfully what is death if not a problem to be solved.

If Bruce would let him into that damn room.

Tim knows he melted the key down and to be frank no one truly knows where your body went.

Bruce refuses to talk about you or your body.

Claiming that “it’s safe”

That’s not enough, Tim will find you and fix it.

If it’s the last thing he or Bruce does.

Cassandra Cane (Depression):

Informed: 3:55am July 5th. Witnessed Reader being carried by Bruce

Cass sits on that rooftop for a while

Almost till noon

Sitting

Looking at the red spot on the ground

Not really thinking much yet just unable to move

She does leave eventually. 

Decides to go to the batcave

She messed up

She can fix this

Joker is just a clown

You can be avenged.

The family, all in there own heads, let’s her go.

She appears fully functional.

Still sharp

Still aware

But she’s not.

It feels like the inside of her heart is being eaten and she’s not sure how to stop it.

But she has to keep going or she’s afraid she’ll never get up.

Dick Grayson (Reconstruction):

Informed: 6:30pm July 12th by Damian Wayne aka Robin

He was told at dinner

A week later.

The family was actively grieving and he was once again left in the dark

So Dick did what he knew best.

He tried to fix it.

Damian sits most nights outside of a room he claims is yours.

Damian claims he needs to be in there.

So Dick helps.

But the key is nowhere to be found

The vents are all welded shut to that room

And Bruce is often seen lingering as if watching incase Dick makes any progress.

Dick is sure the family will be fixed the second he opens that door.

But in the meantime:

Dick quietly starts cooking dinner every night because you always did.

He answers Damian's homework questions because you used to.

He checks on Tim when he forgets to eat.

He makes Jason coffee and pretends not to notice when Jason cries.

He becomes you.

Because someone has to.

Bruce Wayne (Acceptance):

Readers time of death: Midnight: July 4th

Bruce’s location: arrived at at the scene at 3:46am July 5th

Your cold… so cold.

He took to long

He couldn’t even feel your warmth anymore

How…

How will he tell the kids

How will he walk out of the building with no one to come home too.

You were his rock

His glowing light at the end of the tunnel

Now your cold corpse lies in his arms, your beautiful face married by Joker's crude smile drawn on your face in your own blood.

He can… fix that at least.

The rest of the night is a blur

And the week

Almost the month

When suddenly, Bruce gets up and goes back to work

He moves your things out of the bedroom

Locks them in a guest room of your own

He melts down the key to that room and never touches it again

Your pictures disappear slowly

So slowly the kids almost don’t notice…

Almost.

He isn’t healing, but he has accepted it the only way he knows how to. By refusing to look back.

Except for one thing.

Lucius has already perfected the cryogenic pod for you.

Victor Freeze will be out on Wayne Enterprise’s bail next month with little fanfare and all the funding in the world.

[kay-imma-head-out]

Hiiiii! I was wondering if you could do a Batboys x female Reader where they notice everything about their girlfriend, like them changing their shampoo or getting a haircut

Something’s… Off

Includes: Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Conner Kent, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne

Summary: With your past partners, small changes have never been a problem. You would get a haircut, or change your preferred scent, or change your food schedule and even when you begged them to notice they would ignore it. That was before you decided to date one of the most observant people on the planet.

A/N: Nothing quiet like a 1:30am post. ANYWAY, Anon! Sorry about the wait, I like to ruminate on some requests (so they sit and I stare at them for like.. eons) and wait for the vibe to strike. But, this is one of my favorite genres of headcanons so I knew it was coming. Thank you so much.

TRIGGER WARNING FOR CLARK: Discussion of dieting. No details are mentioned regarding the reader's weight or the type of diet and Clark is… grumpy about it. Read carefully and skip if you need to (You look amazing today btw).

Bruce Wayne:

 This man noticed you changed your preferred fragrance the moment you walked out of the bathroom. 

And to be totally honest with you, he hates it.

The new bottle could smell like the nectar of the gods themselves, and he wouldn’t like it at the beginning.

Any changes in your relationship, Bruce isn’t overly fond of in the beginning.

Not that he would tell you that.

He would prefer to sit in his own brooding nature than confess something so frivolous.

But, he’s gonna try and make you stop using it in his own way.

His go-to is just buying you the old one.

“Bruce? Did you get me a new perfume?”

His head pops into the bathroom before going on some random tangent about a sale and he saw you were getting low.

You pick up on this pretty quick, and address it (usually before he can piece together a coherent excuse.)

“Dearest?”

He stops his excuse and moves to make direct eye contact as you hold the bottle ajar with a tilt in your head.

“You don’t like the new one do you?”

He shakes his head fervently, “No of course not, its very… expensive-”

“Bruce”

He sighs before glaring at the new bottle like it caused the issue, “It… doesn’t smell like you. I like how you smell. This one is… rich. It smells like everyone at a gala. I just want you.”

You nod your head, “Okay. I can switch back if you want? I just wanted to try and fit in a bit more with your ritzy friends.”

You walk over and sling your hands around his neck, “To be honest, I didn’t like it that much either.”

This sets things in motion.

Bruce (despite his public persona) loves to publicly buy you things.

So a compromise is struck and you are wowed by Bruce’s dedication to thoroughness and research in regards to every part of his life.

Including… this damn perfume hunt.

You figured you would hit one store.

OH NO.

You go to every perfume place in Gotham and then he goes online.

Money isn’t an issue and Bruce wants to find the best.

So he goes… and goes… and goes

Alfred is involved, rooms are filled, and Christmas gifts are handled till the 2050s.

So you start fancy, then average, then niche.

It takes over a year for Bruce to find one that smells like.. You

BUT you found it.

And to be honest? Bruce killed it.

Clark Kent:

Clark knows something different…

But Lord help him… he can’t place it.

You look the same, smell the same, but something.. Off

You don’t notice his confusion or frustration for a while.

Until you realize he keeps squinting at you.

From casual conversations to catching his stare from across the room.

Eventually it pisses you off enough that at dinner you throw a bread roll at him.

“Clark quit it!”

Clark shakes his head like he is trying to knock it out of his brain, “Sorry, honey.”

“What is up with you? It’s like you're trying to figure out an abstract painting.” you ponder stealing the roll back.

“Did you do something different?” Clark asks, leaning forward, obviously fighting the urge to stare.

You laugh, “I need you to be more specific,”

“I don’t know. Something is different.” He gestures over to your whole body.

You look down at yourself, “Um… Nothing overly much. I think I’m more tan, I got a new lunch box at work, and OH I started a new diet?”

Clark's expression changes immediately. 

“Diet?”

You nod, “Ya! It’s been going pretty well so far. I’ve been-”

Clark slumps a bit.

You pause, “Hey? What happened?”

Clark straightens back up at your question, “It’s not that… ugh. I don’t want this to come out wrong.”

You both wait as Clark collects his thoughts.

“I love you.” He blurts.

Your eyes widen, “I.. love you too?”

“No..” He shakes his head, “I love you. I don’t want anyone else. Is there a reason you are doing this? A health concern, self-improvement, or a test in human resilience? Because, I love you and I don’t want you to change for a reason that would make you feel worse in the long run.”

You grab his hand from across the table, “Clark, that’s very sweet. But, I’m fully grown. I promise I’m being careful.”

He nods, “Thank you, sorry I can’t turn it off sometimes. Tell me all about it!”

Dick Grayson:

Dick would be the one to feed into this skill.

Everything new he notices… gets a compliment.

Loves the new nail polish

That perfume? Gorgeous.

Your moms new dress? Drop dead.

You love how much he notices everything.

Until you get that haircut.

The haircut to end all haircuts.

You HATE it.

It's too long and too short somehow and it kinda has bangs?

It’s like the hair stylist couldn’t make a decision.

Your coworkers claim it barely noticeable (which does not help)

Your best friend says your being dramatic

You have convinced yourself this is the end of your year.

You've relegated your next 3 months to beanies or just shaving it all off… until

You walk into your boyfriends apartment ready to FUCKING RANT.

And this man, god help him, can’t stop staring at you.

You take his silence as confirmation that its that fucking bad.

But you have to give him a five minute reboot.

He loves it.

Loves it

Which would be more reassuring if he could form a complete sentence other than “your hot”

You're sitting on the couch contemplating the shears in Dick’s bathroom before Dick tilts your head up and kisses you.

It's hard and surprisingly forceful.

He is about to tell you just how much he loves it… for quite a while.

Apparently your tragic haircut has become the greatest thing that's happened to him all week. 

Jason Todd:

Despite his avoidant tendencies, Jason is well aware of your schedule and your favorite things.

This includes your favorite necklace.

The one he made for you on your first date.

It was supposed to be a joke.

An old bolt had fallen off his bike.

Poor thing was entirely stripped through and was likely shot through by one of deadshots microscopic bullets.

He placed it in your hand saying, “He’s gotta bolt, but he's expecting that back next time.”

Jason spent the entire time cussing himself out for the pun. Blaming spending too much time with Dick and his “bullshit jokes”

So imagine his surprise when almost a month after you met him for a random coffee break with that damn red bolt on a chain around your neck.

After his retelling of the event you wear it frequently, mostly to piss him off, but also because it's become one of your favorite memories.

So when you stop wearing it, Jason notices.

You come up with various excuses, “Forgot it today”, “had to take it off at the gym” etc.

Until he walks in on your anniversary and finds you under your bed searching like a mad man.

“Doll?”

Your head shoots up.

BUMP

“FUCK” You slide out from under the bed rubbing the back of your head.

You lock eyes with him as he holds your gift and a bundle of flowers, “Jay! You’re early.”

He nods, “Lookin for something under there?”

You blink a few times before your head hangs in shame, “I lost the bolt. I took it of a few weeks ago to shower and poof.” 

You run a hand through your hair, “I-I kept hoping it would just show back up if I looked hard enough but…”

You huff, “God. I’m sorry Jay.”

He slides down next to you and delicately hands you the box, “Can you open that for me?”

“Jay-”

He shakes his head, “Just open it… please?”

You sigh before popping off the small ribbon.

Inside stands your old necklace and something new.

“I know this guy who can turn old bullets into studs, but I wanted to make sure they matched. So, I borrowed it”

Inside the small box stands two earrings used bullets morphed into a flower.

You look up at him.

Something in your eyes softens Jay almost immediately.

Ever the adverse to overly happy moments, Jay changes topics, “Do you know how long I had to wait to snipe that thing? You guard it more than the MET-”

You don’t let him finish quickly putting on the bolt and the matching studs and pulling him in for a hug.

“Thank you Jason.”

He pauses before embracing you, “Anytime, doll.”

A/N: For those curious, these are the studs I had in mind (I have no clue about this company btw, as always do research before you buy. Give money to who you support): https://bulletbloom.com/products/380-cal-small-bullet-plume-earrings?variant=30975828361294 

Tim Drake:

Tim loves a good routine.

The only thing he loves more than his own is yours.

The perfectly tempered coffee he places on your desk each morning.

The dramatic thump of your keys when you get home at 6:15-6:30pm

And his favorite is your designated Tim cuddling time after dinner but before patrol.

And today?

He is leaning on that schedule of yours hard.

Banking on the dinner conversation and those minutes on the couch.

Today was utter shit.

So he sits on the couch and waits.

Happily thinking about holding you in his arms and ignoring the drama at WE and whatever the Riddler is up to tonight.

Until you sit in the armchair… 

On the other side of the living room.

You sit with your hands in your lap smiling that joyful smile of yours and ask, “What do you want to watch tonight?”

“No”

You reel back a bit, “No?”

He taps the couch cushion, “That isn’t your spot.”

A laugh bubbles up your throat, “You were just complaining about someone at work touching you. I figured you wanted space?”

He shakes his head before standing up and lightly dragging you over to the couch, “That, angel, was a 60 year old man I had never met before rubbing my shoulders. You are my favorite person on the plant. Not the same thing.”

You continue your laugh before cuddling into his chest, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how sacred cuddle time was to you.”

He shrugs, “schedules are there for a reason.”

Conner Kent (A/N: Reader as a nose piercing)

You change your shampoo.

It’s not even worth a passing thought.

Just a different shampoo because the store was out of your usual brand.

You don't even mention it.

There isn't really anything to mention.

Then Conner walks into the kitchen the next morning.

And immediately points at you.

"You're different."

You freeze.

"What?"

"Different."

"...How?"

Conner squints.

You watch him mentally sort through possibilities.

Then his eyes widen.

"Oh! Your shampoo."

Silence.

You stare.

He stares.

"What about my shampoo?"

"It smells different."

You laugh.

"Conner, no."

"Conner, yes."

He wanders over and immediately buries his face in your hair.

"Definitely different."

You shove him away.

"Stop sniffing me!"

"I'm investigating!"

"You're being weird!"

"I'm being thorough."

His hands settle on your waist as he leans in again.

"It's coconut." He says

"Coconut and shea butter." He says confirming

You, with little hope in his assessment, check the bottle sitting on the counter.

Coconut and shea butter.

"How did you know that?"

Conner shrugs, "I can hear your heartbeat from three blocks away. Shampoo isn't exactly challenging."

You stare at him.

Then he tilts his head.

"Wait."

"Oh no."

"You changed your conditioner too."

"CONNER."

Then he pauses.

“There’s something else too."

"Oh come on."

His eyes narrow again hiding the growing smirk.

"That's not your usual nose ring either."

You huff and raise your hands in exasperation.

"There it is."

Damian Al-Ghul-Wayne(aged up):

Damian is not vocal about noticing changes.

When directly asked, he'll simply nod or shake his head.

"Did you notice I got my hair cut?"

A glance.

"Yes."

That's it.

After a while, you stop asking.

Not because he doesn't notice, he clearly does, but because getting information out of him feels like interrogating a government agent.

So when you decide to try a new perfume, you don't bother mentioning it.

You spray it on before meeting Damian for lunch and think nothing of it.

Halfway through the afternoon, while the two of you are walking across campus, a guy passing by smiles.

"Hey, your perfume smells really nice."

You blink.

"Oh. Thank you."

The compliment catches you off guard enough that you can't help smiling.

Unfortunately, Damian is standing right there.

The boy leaves.

Damian stares after him.

"...What?"

"Nothing."

You make it about fifteen feet before he starts.

"For the record. The jasmine suits you better than the vanilla one."

You nearly trip.

"What?"

"The vanilla scent lingered longer."

He says it casually.

"As did the citrus one before that."

You stare.

"The one from February was far too sweet."

"February?"

Damian looks confused.

"As in four months ago."

"You remember my perfume from four months ago?"

"Of course."

You stop walking entirely.

Damian sighs.

"The new haircut also frames your face better."

"..."

"The silver earrings are superior to the gold pair."

"..."

"And the nail polish you removed yesterday matched most of your wardrobe."

You can only blink at him.

Because suddenly every tiny change you've made over the past several months is being cataloged and evaluated.

"You noticed all of that?"

Damian's expression softens just slightly.

"And for future reference, beloved, I noticed all of those things the day they happened. "

[kay-imma-head-out]

omg id love to see the batboys w a lowk ragebaiter w the trend when theyre ordering food snd shes js like 'can i have __?' acting all concerned and hes js so embarrassed and lost

The Plan

batboys x reader

Clark Kent x Reader

Conner Kent x Reader

Includes: Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Conner Kent, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne

A/N: 𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐊𝐈, Yep. 100%. I think all of the boys would react to being ragebaited in different ways. For variety I added some different scenarios in, but I made sure to include your specific one as well. This was so much fun!! I’ve taken a brief break just because of having to move post-grad, but this was a very welcomed little break.

Also, a lovely person (whom I can’t seem to find in my inbox) let me know about the gendered terms of “habibi and habibti” and in order to try and keep as gender neutral as possible I’ve decided to kinda cut that from the vocabulary. Just a little fyi in case you notice a shift away from the term.

Bruce Wayne:

 Bruce is extremely easy to rage bait. But it’s hard to do it well.

One wrong move could send this man into a downward bat shaped spiral.

So you pick the obvious low hanging fruit when you get the urge.

For example:

You walk into the kitchen island to find Bruce casually eating his breakfast.

You lean against the kitchen island and pull out your phone attempting to look casual and unbothered.

“Hey B? How much do I owe you for dinner last night. You take Venmo right?”

He briefly inhales his coffee.

After a smooth recovery, Bruce turns to you.

“You don’t have to pay me back for dinner.” He grumbles as he watches your facial expressions for a hit of where you are taking this.

You bat your hand at him, “that’s so sweet, but… I know how things are right now. You’re kinda broke.”

“Broke?”

You nod, pulling the magazine article out from under your arm.

In large papyrus font on the front is a picture of Bruce in some jewelry store walking out empty handed saying “BRUCE GOES BROKE. How Bruce’s spending spree dried up the Wayne Fortune.”

He scoffs at the article, but finds himself flipping through regardless.

“I already payed Alfred for this month and helped cover the kids expenses. I know I can help more I just need you to let me know what to pay. Money troubles are truly no problem, dear. I just wish you had told me sooner.”

Bruce looks up from the tabloid, “You… what?”

It’s been a long standing issue in your relationship that Bruce wants to pay for everything and will sneak you things even when you directly explain it’s too expensive.

He also refuses to return the favor.

Often flagging down waitresses or making a tab for you at your favorite coffee place.

“When you payed Alfred and the school fees. It was all in cash. Damn near impossible to return.”

You can see the wheels in Bruce’s head turn as he confirms both payments before a broad smile breaks out on his face.

Your head tilts just slightly watching as he pulls up all of your favorite stores on his phone.

“You have no idea how ‘broke’ I am.”

Clark Kent:

Clark has a habit of getting so engrossed in his work that he ignores his surroundings.

It’s turned into a bit of a game in the office.

You were firmly in the lead of the office pool, until the Chief got involved.

Meaning you had to up your game a little.

Clark has been working on a Superman piece for two hours straight.

No coffee breaks or lunch

Just straight research.

The list of people who have failed to interrupt his flow state includes: Jimmy, Cat, Lois, and most importantly the Chief.

If you manage to break it, you have a one way ticket back to the betting pool.

You walk up to Clark hovering over his shoulder as he messes with the formatting of the article for the umpteenth time. 

You cross your arms and tilt your head as you attempt to summon the powers of a math teacher during a test.

“Well that’s one way to do it.” You mutter.

Clark stiffens immediately.

You click your tongue, shake your head and start walking back to your desk.

Making eyes with your coworkers on the way as they watch for fallout.

Clark quickly turns in his office chair to watch your retreating form before doing a double take at the article.

“What-?” Clark stands and rushes over to your desk, “What’s wrong with it? It’s the header isn’t it? I knew the margins were off but I didn’t think it was that obvious.”

You flash a wink at the Chief who is angrily pulling a 50 out of his wallet.

“There’s nothing wrong with it. I just wouldn’t have done it that way.” You say bringing up your academically published journal that won you an award last season.

Clark quickly grabs the back of your swivel chair and brings you over to his computer.

“Okay!” He flashes that damn farmboy smile at you, “Here's what I am thinking! I wanted to copy your margins anyway-”

Dick Grayson:

Nothing much of note was happening in Bludhaven tonight, leaving you and your boyfriend bored.

This sort of arrangement never works out for Dick Grayson

You turn your head up from where it was laying across his chest to look at your unsuspecting partner, “If you could change one thing about yourself, aside from the obvious, what would you change?”

He huffs a laugh, “The obvious?”

You nod, turning back to the TV screen to hide your smile.

“And what's the obvious, babe?” He asks tilting his head to attempt eye contact.

You raise your hand in a wave, “Oh you know.” 

You feel him stiffen a bit under you.

His eyes flit around the room going through the various possibilities.

“Dick-” You push, unable to cover the slight laugh in your tone, “You didn’t answer the question.”

You feel his eyes flip back to you at the escaped laugh, “I can’t answer the question without all the necessary information.”

You feel his fingers slowly begin to tickle your sides.

You need to get up now.

You stand at lighting speed and begin to dodge Dicks attempt to capture you in his arms again.

“If it’s so obvious why can’t you just tell me?” He quips as you dodge him around the coffee table. 

You decide to make a break for it, “Well, I don’t want to hurt your… already fragile ego.”

You successfully make it out the door somehow.

Getting to your neighbors apartment before Dick catches you though? It’s looking more and more unlikely.

Jason Todd:

One of your favorite expressions of Jay’s is the brief pause he has as he thinks through something confusing.

It created a trend of you asking the most obscure and convoluted things you can think of to try and see his face.

Which worked, until he started expecting your obscure references.

Which meant you had to start getting creative.

You knew that this one was a little risky, but when you saw it online you couldn’t pass it up.

You had an escape plan in place just in case Jason planned to retaliate, but the “shower” excuse could only go so far.

The conversation is easy enough in the beginning.

“How was the patrol last night?”

Jason huffs and starts complaining about Black Mask before you interrupt

“Sit up straight when your talking to me”

And there it is.

That slightly confused eyebrow twitch as he sizes you up.

Playing the dialogue again in your mind

Perfect!

Put then he actually does it.

He straights his posture.

Just a little

Just enough for you to notice and capitalize on it.

You grab the towel off the rack planning your escape.

“Good Boy!”

You stay just long enough to watch the surprise flicker back onto his face before RUNNING to the bathroom.

As you run you can make out a few words from the kitchen, “.... for fucks sake”

The heavy stomps that follow you are looming as you successfully lock the bathroom door.

He can hear your maniacal laughter through the door.

It is cut short as Jason unlocks the door and stands in front of you.

“How can I return the favor if you run away, doll?”

Oh fuck….

Tim Drake:

Tim handles ragebaiting… in an interesting way.

He absorbs himself into the role.

Refusing to allow you to get under his skin.

Changing it so he can ragebait you instead.

The pair of you sit at your favorite diner.

You're regulars here at this point.

Which is why this is the perfect excuse to try something that you think is Tim proof.

The waiter walks over and ask what you want.

“Tim? Would it be alright if I ordered this? If not it’s okay! I can just go with my regular. I don’t want to make it awkward or upset you!”

Tim catches on fast. 

Faster than the waiter can jump to conclusions.

“I don’t know, angel. At your last doctor's appointment he said that you should stick to your regular diet. I’m not sure now is the time to make the jump to new stuff.”

The waiter asks, “oh what are you recovering from”

Tim reaches across the table and taps your hand smiling in response to your eye roll.

“Appendicitis. It was touch and go for a second.”

You lean back as Tim talks his way through the encounter.

Somehow in the process ordering exactly what you wanted.

“You know what my new appendix free body needs?” You ask at the end of the meal, “Ice cream”

Tim smiles, “I never said you could have Ice cream”

You wack him with the menu.

Conner Kent

It was an accident, but you aren’t upset with the results.

It was an honest mistake.

You texted Conner this morning: “We need to talk tonight.”

Right before your phone battery died and your boss called you in for a meeting.

Conner… handled it about as well as you’d imagine.

“Oh no. What did I do😂😵‍💫?”

“Babe?”

“You always have your phone on you at work.”

“Are we okay?”-message deleted-

“You’re messing with me right?”

“It was hilarious. Can you text me back now?”

“Whatever it is, I can work on it.”

“Is this about that coffee barista remembering your order?”

“I can make coffee too.”

“I knew something was up with him.”

“I saw that magazine you were reading last week about Brazil. Are you moving to Brazil???”

“BABE”

“Please text me.”

“You’re not pregnant right?”

“Can clones get someone pregnant?”

“I’m not sure that's possible with our anatomy.”

“I can fix this.”

A long pause

“Please don’t leave.”

Conner's spiral goes completely unnoticed by you as you successfully improv your way through a meeting while thinking about how excited you were to talk to Conner about the latest episode of both of your favorite show.

He was on a mission last night so you knew he wouldn’t watch it till today.

It was the one piece of joy that kept you motivated throughout the day.

Until, Conner runs into your job.

Flowers, chocolates, a framed photo of the two of you, balloons.

It’s like he walked into a chocolate shop and said “give me a little bit of everything”

He is gonna need extra attention after this.

You, him, that box of chocolates he bought, and your favorite trashy tv show all night.

Damian Al-Ghul-Wayne(aged up):

If ragebaiting your boyfriend was a professional sport. 

You’d be a gold medalist (mostly because anyone else who ragebaited Damian died a slow and painful death)

“My love?” You call laying on the small couch in Damian’s room.

Damian turns from his laptop to glance over to you as you lay upside down on the arm of the couch.

“Unless you called me to teach you how to sit in a chair properly, I doubt I can be of much assistance.”

He promptly turns back to the files on his computer.

Any remorse you had swiftly fled.

“What sport do you think you would do, if you were athletic.” You ask flinging your arms behind your head.

His typing freezes. “If-?”

You interrupt “-I mean of course you have some history, but if your history in gym class is any indication you definitely aren’t the MOST athletic-“

He turns to face you directly. “My Beloved, the parentified rules of gym class when it comes to competition is laughable. It’s does nothing to negate my athletic prowess-“

“If I remember correctly, Jason did just fine in dodgeball with the ‘parentified rules’”

Damian stands and crouches in front of your relaxed form. Likely in an unintentional way to establish dominance. “Todd went through less training in the league then I did if I have to remind you. So if anyone is less athletic-“

You need to tread carefully.

Damian isn’t a person to “give in” to ragebaiting.

He needs to prove someone wrong.

“Damian, my dear… have you seen your brother?”

And that person isn’t going to be you.

“Tt” he huffs before grabbing your relaxed hand and dragging you into the common area.

“Todd! I bet I can beat you in practice today.”

The second eldest (as always) is immediately down for a challenge.

So you gradually get pulled down to the cave to “witness Damian’s moment of triumph”

Damian realizes your plan halfway through sparring.

Your eyes follow him as he spars with his brother.

A small smirk graces your lips: like you got away with murder by tricking him.

He still refuses to stop because now he has a point to prove.

[kay-imma-head-out]

omg, did you graduate??? congrats!!! 🙂‍↕️

I did!! Just received my Masters in Education. Thank you so much. I can finally start writing again and it not be about AFAB Pre-Service Teachers with ADHD. You know back to the important stuff…. Like that spidey sense reader that’s been sitting in my brain since march😂

[kay-imma-head-out]

Hii!! I hope you're well. Please don't feel pressured to do this or anything, I wouldn't want to distract from your thesis! :]

I was just wondering if you could do headcannons for the bats with a partner who is a very literal thinker? I just thought it would be a fun idea cause some of them tend to be very sarcastic, and I'm very literal cause I'm AuDHD lol

Merry-Go-Round of Life

batboys x reader

Clark Kent x Reader

Includes: Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne

A/N: Anon, you are speaking my language here. I was sitting on this one trying to figure out how to explain it best. I actually ended up basing these off of experiences I have had as a AuDHD person so there is an odd mixture of events here. It kinda turned into a short and sweet slice of life moment.

Bruce Wayne:

 You and Bruce get along amazingly.

You are both literal thinkers. The problems come in when other people try to understand you.

“Timothy Jackson Drake. I told you we needed to be out that door 5 minutes ago.” You yell fighting with the latch on your shoe again.

“We aren’t going to be late, I don’t understand the rush-” The seventeen year old responds in a huff.

“The rush-” Bruce interrupts picking up your ankle to help with the latch, “Is that we said we would be there on time and you are not respecting our time or their.”

The latch is done and the three of you make your way through the door

“I understand that, but-” Tim tries.

“Just get in the car, Tim” Bruce opens the door for you.

“Fine, I guess.” He grumbles.

Clark Kent:

“Is this how you spend your time at work all day? Why don’t you decorate your desk more?” You ask poking a random Daily Planet bobblehead Clark has on his desk.

“Yes? I never really felt the need to decorate,” Clark replies, “It’s just a workspace.”

“Wrong” You reply, shuffling your swivel chair closer to him, “It’s your workspace. So it should look like you.”

Clark glances over to your desk and sure enough it looks like your workspace, “I don’t know, it's just a desk.”

You shake your head, “This is already happening. What's your favorite color?”

Clark shakes his head, “It’s not-”

“Clark, my dear, it's already in motion.”

He sighs, “Blue”

He hears you laugh over his shoulder before you wheel back to your desk.

“We need to give you more complex pieces to work on or you're going to take over the whole office.” Clark laughs as you eagerly load up etsy and redbubble looking for desk decorations.

“I can dream, Clark. I can dream”

Two weeks later there’s a Smallville mug, three framed photos, and a tiny potted succulent in a blue pot sitting on his desk.

Clark pretends not to notice when people start calling it “your side” of the office. 

Dick Grayson:

It's the worst week of the year.

To be simple: it feels like the earth is trying to personally spite you.

And to add to that Dick has been acting… off

You can’t put your finger on it but he’s been around less, and the interactions you have had have felt forced? In a way. You can’t really explain it.

This, with no other evidence, can only mean one thing

“Dick. I need you to be honest.” You walk over as he cleans the dishes.

He doesn’t even look up from the sink (another bad sign), “Of course.”

“… are you mad at me?”

It sounds childish, even to your own ears. But the feeling has been eating you alive for days

Dick freezes and looks over his shoulder to you with one eyebrow raised.

You stand in his view like a child ashamed of stealing a cookie from the cookie jar.

“Not as far as I know. Is there something I should be mad at you for?”

You pick at your finger nails and look down, “Well, no… But when we went to the diner you seemed upset and you went to bed early last night and-” 

This continues on for a while.

Gradually, Dick dries his hands on a wash cloth and slowly walks over to you as you continue your spiral.

He lightly tilts you face up to his, “I am not mad at you. It’s just been a long week. Once I finish this. Do you want to have a movie night?”

You don’t break eye contact, “Are you sure? It’s okay if you are-”

He shakes his head, “I’m not”

Jason Todd:

“I could take Leon Kennedy in a fight.” Jason grumbles from the couch.

“What?” You laugh walking over to him.

Jason sits perched on the couch glaring daggers into your phone background.

You had recently changed it to your newest fixation. Resident Evil.

“Why are you glaring at Leon?” You laugh, grabbing your phone from his hand.

“You changed a picture of us… to him.” Jason states pointing to the 3d culprit you are holding close to you.

“I only changed it because you hated the last picture and you begged me to change it.” You remind him.

“Dick did not deserve the credit of taking that picture. I was asleep.” Jason huffs making a grab for the phone.

“You looked cute!” You dodge his grasp, “I could change it back?”

He levels an annoyed gaze at you, “Just let me pick it.”

“No! It’s my phone. It’s staying Leon if you don’t want it to be my favorite picture.” You state.

“Not if I can get it from you first!” 

With how fast he runs… maybe he could take Leon in a fight.

Tim Drake:

“This is a trap…”

“No its not.”

“Tim… you aren’t a worm and if you were I don’t think we would have spoken in the first place.”

He gasps, “So… you wouldn’t love me if I was a worm?”

You sit up from your spot laying on his chest, “No. I would not love you the same if you were a worm.”

“ACK!” Tim holds his heart, “Why not?”

Your shoulders drop and you level a look at Tim, "Because our relationship wouldn’t be maintainable with you as a worm. You would need different things. Dirt, rotten fruit, a home, maybe other worm buddies. You wouldn’t be happy as a worm living the same life with me.”

“We should just break up now.” He announced draping an arm over his eyes in an attempt to hide his amusement.

“I would still love you. I’d buy you a little terrarium, but you would not be my boyfriend anymore.”

“Could I be-” He uncovers his eyes, “-Your wormfriend.”

“YOU AREN’T TAKING THIS SERIOUSLY.”

Damian Al-Ghul-Wayne(aged up):

“What the fuck was that?”

SLAM

“How could she think that was okay?”

CRASH

“God, Damian. You should have seen the look on her face.”

STOMP

“IT WAS BULLSHIT.”

Damian isn’t entirely aware of who or what caused this tirade of yours but he’s almost positive his mahogany front door didn’t deserve its current abuse as you stomp around the room in a blind rage.

Damian leans forward bracing his elbows on his knees, “Do you want me to handle this?”

You stop and turn to look over at him.

You have no doubt that Damian could fix your spat, but… that's not what you need right now.

You sigh and fall to the ground with a groan, “No. I just… want to complain some more.”

Damian nods, “Alright… If that is what you need. I will listen.”

(He still makes a mental note of the girl’s name.) 

[kay-imma-head-out]

You’re Gonna Go Far

batboys x reader

Clark Kent x Reader

Conner Kent x Reader

Includes: Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Conner Kent, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne

A/N: A self-indulgent post? Me? Instead of all the lovely requests in my inbox? Never… ANYWAY!

Bruce Wayne:

 This is a huge deal!

(For Alfred)

Not only does someone in this house once again have a college degree; Alfred can finally plan a graduation party with all the supplies he bought when Bruce entered Med School.

You are now his favorite.

Bruce is highly amused by this, and he is not going to tell Alfred to calm down. 

Because he is also so excited, just in his personal way.

He flew in every extended family member you wanted. 

He’s helping Alfred plan the grad party (even if you don’t want one)

The kids all want to come along.

They will be the loudest and most obnoxious bunch at your ceremony.

Videos of the Wayne's reaction to you walking across the stage will definitely hit tiktok.

But… you can’t be too upset because you got the best picture of all your favorite people cheering you on as your new phone background.

The party was grand of course, but your favorite part of the night was after.

The kids had gone home.

Alfred was done for the night.

It was just you and Bruce.

The light champagne buzz was keeping you warm as the pair of you picked at the remaining dessert trays of random bits and bobs.

The night seems to halt as you sit together.

You talk about everything and nothing at all.

Dick apparently almost fell while cheering as you walked across the stage.

You explain that your shoe got stuck in the stage and had to yank it out before you grabbed your diploma.

The night is perfect and warm.

Bruce listens to all of it.

 Like it matters.

Like you matter.

Something soft settles behind his eyes

Bruce has that smile.

Your favorite.

The one you picture in your head when he is at his happiest.

“You were always going to go far,” he says, almost to himself.

For once, Gotham stands quiet.

Clark Kent:

In a completely and totally ethical way, Clark did rearrange the seating chart so journalism could be seated next to your cohort. 

In the most loving way possible: Clark is freaking out.

Ma and Pa Kent are so excited.

Clark is the first Kent with a college degree, and they told everyone.

His head is currently on a poster on a stick in the stands at MU. 

They haven’t shown you yet, but they have one of you as well.

Clark’s hand is wrapped around yours as you sit together listening to the president drone on and on about himself and the analogies he thinks are profound.

The speeches are long.

But you’re here together.

So maybe it’s not that bad.

The diplomas are handed out for what feels like hours.

But, you are there with your favorite person on a special day.

You don’t notice how quiet he gets when your name is called.

How still he goes when you cross the stage.

Like he’s watching something important happen in real time.

Because something else is making Clark nervous.

Not all the pomp and circumstance

There is a ring sitting in his pocket and in true Clark Kent fashion he is planning to make a special day even more memorable.

The future stretches out in front of him, wide and unknown.

And somehow, that’s not scary anymore.

Not when he’s already beside you.

Dick Grayson:

You know that one person who yells at the top of their lungs when their person walks?

That's Dick.

Even through the mess in your mind as you grab that diploma you can hear Richard Grayson yell in the distance. 

“THAT’S MY-”

You don’t catch the rest.

 You don’t need to.

It’s exactly what you needed.

It grounds you instantly.

Pulls you out of the spiral of don’t trip don’t fall don’t stumble

He’s there for you.

And he is so bright.

You take the diploma.

Turn.

And wave to him.

Ignoring the line and the camera.

You just need to see him

Sit in this moment for just a moment longer.

Richard Grayson is practically glowing.

Like this is his win too.

You aren’t sure where this road will take you.

Everything feels uncertain.

But when you look at him; smiling like that, like the world is something you can take on

you think…

maybe you can.

And maybe

you won’t have to do it alone.

Jason Todd:

Jason has been there through it all.

The papers, exams, projects gone wrong.

He will be there for this.

Steadfast, strong and ready to catch you if you fall.

You offered to skip the whole thing.

You know he isn’t overly fond of large events and to be honest?

You know how boring it's going to be.

Jason flat out refuses.

“No. You are walking that stage and I want to be there to watch.”

He grabs onto your hand, “You worked for this. Don’t diminish your experience for me.”

So you go.

The ceremony is exactly as boring as you expected.

Long speeches.

 Too many names.

 A room that feels way too warm.

Your leg bounces under your gown as you wait….

And wait.

And wait.

But when your name is called:

everything tilts.

You step forward.

And for a second, the crowd blurs into nothing.

You don’t even have to look.

You know.

Jason Todd doesn’t cheer like the others.

He doesn’t need to.

He stands, arms crossed, watching you like this was never in question.

Like of course you made it.

And when your eyes finally find him

he nods.

His body language to anyone else would seem stiff and uncomfortable.

But you can see through it.

He is entirely focused on you

Later, when the ceremony ends and the crowd turns into chaos:

you almost lose him.

Almost.

Until a familiar hand catches your wrist.

Pulling you out of the noise.

“You okay?” he asks.

Like that’s what matters.

You laugh, a little breathless. “Yeah. Yeah, I-” you hold up the diploma like proof. “I did it.”

Jason glances at it.

Then back at you.

“I know,” he says.

A beat.

“I never doubted it for a moment.”

His hand doesn’t leave yours.

Not even when people bump into you.

Not even when the noise swells again.

Tim Drake:

You couldn’t find him after you arrived in your seat.

You think you have found Conner and Bart, but Tim is nowhere to be seen.

You don’t know how.

At one point you’re pretty sure he’s sitting in faculty seating.

 At another, he’s gone.

Then back again.

Different outfit.

You blink.

Is… is that him with the undergrads?

You decide not to look into it too much.

You are probably just seeing things. 

You hear the cavalry of the young justice team as you walk, but still no Tim.

When you sit back down, your phone buzzes. 

You see a text: Sorry I missed you earlier. I wanted to be sure I got it.

You open the file and it's the perfect photo of you grabbing your diploma.

You look around the photographers, but he’s gone.

Until you spot him in the stands, Conner already giving him grief.

You hold up your hands in a small heart to him.

Which only eggs Conner on.

After the ceremony, you find him.

“You could’ve just sat in the stands,” you say, pulling him into a hug.

He shrugs playing with the tassel on your cap.

“Less efficient.”

You nod, “mmmm of course.”

A beat.

Then, quieter

“Didn’t want to miss it.”

Conner Kent:

Is ready to yell his love for you from the rooftops.

He suggested that, actually.

Clark said no.

 Tim also said no.

He is currently vibrating in his seat.

When your name is called

He stands up immediately.

He is forced back down just as quickly.

“Sit.”

 “I am sitting.”

He is not sitting.

You can still hear him anyway.

Not shouting

just loud enough.

“That’s my person!”

And it hits you harder than you expect.

Because yeah.

You are.

Later, when everything settles when the noise fades and the crowd starts to thin

he finds you first.

Doesn’t even hesitate.

Just pulls you into a hug that’s a little too tight, a little too long.

“You did it,” he says, like he’s still surprised by it.

Like it’s something incredible.

You laugh into his shoulder. “So did you. You didn’t get kicked out.”

“Hey-”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, still smiling.

“I’m serious.”

And there’s something softer there now.

You nod and lean back into him, “I did it.”

“’Course you did,” he adds

Like it was never really a question.

And for a second, neither of you move.

Like if you do, it’ll end too soon.

Hours later, he’s still smiling about it

Damian Al-Ghul-Wayne(aged up):

10 am — check dry cleaning 11 am — brunch 12 pm — depart Wayne Manor 1 pm — Teach Drake and Grayson how to behave.

1:15 pm — observe ceremony 1:20 pm — ensure no one mispronounces your name 1:25 pm — applaud (appropriately. Not excessively.)

1:30 pm — watch you cross the stage.

Something unfamiliar settles in his chest.

Sharp. Quiet.

Pride, he decides. 

You do not stumble.

 Do not hesitate.

You execute the moment flawlessly.

As expected.

But still when the applause starts, his hands come together before he can stop them.

Once. Twice.

A fraction longer than necessary.

Later, when you approach him-

diploma in hand, still smiling

he straightens slightly.

He isn’t entirely sure what to say.

This is an incredible achievement, but he is well aware of how capable you are.

He would even say-

“Good grief, Just-!” Dick pushes you forward.

Damian reaches out and catches you.

He holds you for a moment, before the words come to him.

“Exceptional. You are exceptional, beloved.”

[kay-imma-head-out]

omg, I don't know if you've seen the 'I saw a bird today' trend on tiktok 👀 how do you think the guys would react to their partner doing this trend on them? lol

Sing Sweet Nightingale…

batboys x reader

Clark Kent x Reader

Conner Kent x Reader

Includes: Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Conner Kent, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne

A/N: ANON, this was so much fun!!! I’ve been saving this one for when I was ready to dive back in and this was just the kick start I needed. I hope it brings you as much joy as it brings me.

Bruce Wayne:

 The kids are the ones who come to you with the idea.

“Come on! It’ll be cute. WE hasn’t posted any domestic stuff with you two in ages. This is the perfect opportunity.”

Eventually you yield on the pretense that you're warning Bruce about it.

Not when, where or how.

Just sometime today.

Which is how you find yourself sitting in one of your favorite spots.

The grand staircase floor.

Bruce has offered deluxe furniture, carpeting, rugs, and you have turned them all down.

Something about the cold tile is so grounding that you do not want it touched.

You hear his sigh before anything else, “Darling, is there any way I can convince you to use our very nice furniture.”

You shake your head, “Nope. But, I do have something to tell you.”

He squats down next to you, “Anything, my love.”

“I… saw a bird today”

He nods barely containing his smile at your comment, “Was it as gorgeous as you are?”

Your eyes widen at the random flirtations.

Giving him the perfect opportunity to drag you onto your feet.

You are aware that he likely noticed the small camera the moment he walked in, but it still takes you a few moments to adjust to him slightly swaying with you in his arms.

An unexpected part of your relationship is Bruce's love to dance with you.

Late at night, just you and him swaying in the lamp light room.

He whispers just loud enough to be picked up on by the camera, “You never answered my question.”

You fully lean up against him now regaining your rhythm, “Hmm?”

“Was the bird you saw today… as gorgeous as you are right now?” He tucks a hair behind your ear.

“I don’t give a damn about the bird.” and you kiss him around his startled laughter. 

Clark Kent:

The Daily Planet has a tiktok now… and Vicki Vale is making it everyones fucking problem.

“Come on… it's just one!”

You roll your eyes and try to walk away from the blonde.

You stop as she grabs onto your elbow, “Will you stop asking if we do this one right now?”

She nods enthusiastically and props up her camera.

You quickly turn to Clark, “Hey, hun!”

He swirls around in his chair to face you with his bright farm boy smile, “yes?”

You soften just a bit in response to his earnest nature on full display, “I saw a bird today.”

His eyebrows furrow, “A bird? Was it that one you were talking about the other day? That goose over by the fountain on main street?”

You shake your head, “No, we helped the town move her nest remember.”

He gestures to his forehead, “I’d lose my head if it wasn’t attached . Well then tell me about this bird, dear.”

You walk over and steal Jimmy's chair not even noticing Vicki zoom in on the two of you, “You know how Steve always buys like three coffees from BigBelly Burger?”

Clark nods.

“This seagull swooped down and grabbed one of the cups! I’ve never seen a more agile bird. It was like he planned it-” You retell the story laughing between every few words.

Clark hums along at all the right moments, but his eyes never leave your face, tracking every smile like it’s the real story. 

After about three minutes, Vicki ends the video and walks away. She may not have many successful relationships under her belt, but she knows your wholesome dynamic is exactly what the new tiktok channel needs.

And if she has to keep bugging you both to capitalize on it… she just might.

Dick Grayson:

“I saw a bird today.” You say walking into your apartment carrying a bag of groceries on your arm.

Dick looks up from a case file at the sound of your voice, “In Bludhaven? A bird? Chaos. Have you reported it to the authorities?”

You place the bags down on the countertop, “Well I was trying to.”

Dick stiffens up and picks up a random napkin, “Oh, my apologies. Is this the first time you have seen this bird?”

You nod, “Yes, officer.”

You watch his eyebrow pop up at his title.

He stands up and hovers over your shoulder, “Was the bird acting…” he hums, “menacing?”

You continue laying your groceries out on the table, “I wouldn’t say menacing… more conspiratory.”

He hums again just a little closer, “I’m afraid I can’t arrest pigeons with a conspiracy.”

You huff and throw your arms up in the air before turning around to face him, “Typical cop. Assuming the problem instead of waiting for the full story. It was a seagull thank you.”

“Oh?” He pulls you in tightly, “Well it being a seagull changes everything.”

You nod and boop his nose, “I told you full stories matter.”

“If you don’t mind me asking… What was this seagull conspiring? These matters are extremely important to the BPD.” He says keeping his attempt at a serious face in the assault of your boop.

“World domination of course.” You say, “And he flew into the window at my office. He shook the walls.”

His serious expression cracks: first at the corner of his mouth, then all at once, “Well if that's the case, I think justice was already served.”

You sigh, “I suppose I agree. The splat he made truly was a sight to behold as well as his flying away after.”

“Another happy civilian.” Dick mumbles tracing your nose lightly with his own.

“I’m always happy with you.”

Jason Todd:

Jason is used to your constant murmuring.

Never having been much of a talker even before his unfortunate demise, Jason has always found comfort in noise.

Specifically a few things could lull him into a state resembling ‘relaxed’

The sounds of Gotham streets

A box fan

And you talking about your favorite things.

He never told you this, but… he was pretty sure you knew.

You did not. 

So next time at work you talk to a friend of yours hoping for a sense of comfort.

“You think he listens to you? All the time? My dear, I tune you out like an hour into our shift.” Your work friend catches the sight of your fallen smile, “It's not a knock on you or on him. Just the way life is.”

The thought sits in your mind for the rest of your day.

Is… Jason just tolerating you?

Which is just the moment when a black bird with red spots on its wings flies over your head on the walk home. 

It’s just a dumb trend, but it will at least mellow your concerns 

You put on a bright smile as you walk into your shared apartment, “Hey, Jaybird!”

He looks up from his work, “You’re back late tonight.”

You shrug walking over to embrace him for a moment.

You stand there together long enough that Jason picks up on your mood.

“You alright?”

You nod before pulling away to grab something from the fridge.

“I saw a bird today.”

Jason’s head tilts at the sudden change in topic as well as your avoidance of the question, “Okay?

You feel your shoulders slouch as he doesn’t respond further.

You hear his feet make a full turn and walk back over to you before wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

He kisses your forehead and mumbles, “You can’t leave me hanging there doll. What’s up with this bird of yours.”

He catches you perking back up immediately.

“Well!” You smile and turn into his arms, “It was this black bird with a red spot. I know you always get compared to a robin and a bat, but I saw this bird and I was like… THAT IS JASON TODD-”

He snorts, arms tightening just a little around you.

…Yeah. That’s enough.

Tim Drake:

The sun rises on another Gotham day, despite both of your wishes Tim and your sleep schedules are not matched up.

But… today is Saturday.

You wake up in his arms.

Tim had firmly wrapped his arms around your waist, successfully keeping you pinned to his chest.

You likely could sneak out if you needed to, but you lack any motivation to do so.

You lightly run your finger over his intertwined hands.

His calloused knuckles jolt at the touch before tightening around you ever so slightly tighter.

He grumbles, “It's Saturday.”

You hum in agreement repeating the previous motion.

He groans, “I’m not getting up-” you giggle lightly at his blunt statement.

Before he dramatically flips the pair of you over now keeping you firmly pinned to the mattress beneath his body weight, “- and neither are you.”

You break out in laughter at that, “Oh I see how it is. We can add kidnapping to your list of crimes.”

“No judge would convict me.” He mumbles into your hair.

You decide to try one more thing since you have been relegated to cuddly buddy for the day, “I saw a bird yesterday.”

His head tips up.

His bedhead is awful and he looks into your eyes like you were put on this earth to test his patience. , “Yeah… I think I saw that one too. ”

You lean back a bit in surprise, “Really what did you see?”

He returns to his previous position, his head laying against your chest, “Yep, a sleep deprived Robin.”

“That wasn’t-”

He pulls the blanket up over both of your heads, “yes it was. Now… sleep”

Conner Kent (reader wears rings):

“You know… I saw a bird today.” You say standing at the entrance of the Kent family farm.

“A bird you say? Quite common in Kansas" Conner responds easily by throwing a hay bale into the loft.

“But… there was something different about this one.” You announce as you meet him in the barn.

“There are many different kinds of birds in Kansas.” Conner says with amusement in his voice.

You attempt to catch his smirk, but he turns before you can catch it.

“Well this is a different bird, but what the bird had on it. A familiar red cape? And a small ring with a note on one of its legs?”

Conner whirls around with a look of baffled innocence on his face, “Who would do such a thing? What did the note say?”

“Even you can’t turn down a gift from a super pigeon. Your Superboy. With a little heart” You hold the note and the ring out in front of you.

The ring being the exact one you refused to let Con buy you a few weeks ago.

Conner claps his hands together, “You cannot possibly turn down a gift from the sky?”

He walks over and slides it onto your finger.

“You trained a pigeon for me?” you say pulling him into a hug.

He coughs, “I just kinda… threw it in the right direction.”

“CONNER”

“He’s okay! I made sure to remove the cape after.”

Damian Al-Ghul-Wayne(aged up):

There are many ways this could go with Damian, so one day you just decided to go for it.

“Hey Dami, I saw a bird today.”

His eyes flick up from his textbook to lock eyes with you, “A bird?”

You nod and continue avoiding your notes by doodling a small robin in the margins, “A bird.”

“Tt-” Damian closes the textbook, “Was there a meaning for the mentioning of this or where you are attempting to get me to stop studying… again.”

You glance up.

This is a fair accusation you have been trying to distract him.

“I would never!” You cover your hand over your heart in mock offense, “I simply was letting you know that I helped an injured bird on my walk back from University Hall today-”

He sits up straight and leans forward, “The bird was injured?”

You nod again going back to your mostly unsuccessful doodlings.

“Are they okay? What happened? How did you-”

This was supposed to be a feel good story not one that gives Damian a heart attack, “Love… I made sure my hands were clean and safe, picked up the baby bird, placed it back in its nest, and waited till the mother returned to make sure she didn’t throw it back out. She did not and she welcomed him back with open arms.”

He grabs your hands to briefly look them over, “Good, birds rarely abandon their young due to human scent. You were not injured in the process? Birds are not always the most… friendly of beings.”

You smile and fold your hands into his, “I am just fine and so is the bird.”

He nods, “Good… that's acceptable.”

He turns back up to you and sees the warm smile on your face, “What?”

“You care so deeply. So much more than you are willing to share.”

He rears back a bit and a light flush grazes his cheek, “You are looking too deeply into the situation. I was simply ensuring the safety of you both.” He opens his textbook back to the previous page with little other fanfare.

“Of course, beloved. How foolish of me.”

He flips the page of his textbook.

“We will check on it tomorrow.”

[kay-imma-head-out]

Requiem

batboys x reader

Clark Kent x Reader

Superboy Prime x Reader

Includes: Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Superboy Prime (CK), Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne

Summary: You are an FBI Analyst. You were never supposed to be out in the field, especially not for an extended amount of time. This turns your relationship with your boyfriend on its head, as he sits at home while you face danger head on with little to no communication and 0 clue where you are.

A/N: Yearning! I’ve Got Fresh Hurt/Comfort Here! Take your pick, all of it is hot off the presses of my mind while avoiding editing!

Bruce Wayne:

Ignoring his inability to sleep without you next to him, Bruce believes he looks fairly put together in your absence. 

TBH though… he is falling apart at the seams.

He’s developed a new twitch in his right eye.

His back spasms are back

He has this migraine that won’t leave. 

His work isn’t affected, but… his Bruce Wayne persona?

It's lacking a bit.

The press noticed your absence, but also Bruce’s.

He’s been skipping events and if he’s there he looks bored.

Its fucking with the social scene of Gotham

The events he doesn’t show up to are losing money.

Charities aren't hitting their monetary goal

The Gotham Times have nothing to post on.

ANARCHY I SAY ANARCHY

But Bruce couldn’t give less of a damn.

If Bruce isn’t in the cave, he dissociates in his room.

He is trying desperately to convince himself that you are not in fact dead.

With un-shockingly lackluster results. 

Alfred is getting flashbacks to Bruce’s teen years while the kids assume this is just ‘what it's like’ without you there.

Alfred is the only one who successfully gets through to you with his MI6 connections.

Which is how you end up receiving word while undercover that your former playboy boyfriend is in dire need of proof of life.

(You need to give this butler a raise)

Your superiors are unamused, but you respond with a note explaining that you are in fact still alive and you will be back as soon as you can.

Alfred slips the note into Bruce’s study and waits.

The effects are almost instantaneous. 

He’s still broody.

But that faint look of hope in his eyes has returned and that is enough for Alfred till you return. 

Clark Kent:

He looks…

EVERYWHERE

And he can not for the life of him find you.

He can hear your heart, but he can’t find you anywhere. 

He hates that he can’t know where you are.

At least he can hear your heart beat, but…

That has downsides as well.

Like when it speeds up dramatically and he hears your breath catch

You could just be going up some stairs…

Or

Suffice it to say, no work gets done while you are gone.

Jimmy teases him for being “whipped”

Lois attempts to relax him

But in general it's a lost cause. 

Clark trusts you

Of course he does, but everyone else?

Not so much.

Bruce may worry more than him but Clark is much more verbal when something freaks him out.

“I could find them if I looked again-”

“Clark…”

“I just wasn’t looking hard enough last time.”

“Clark!”

He is actively pacing a hole in the floor, “What if they need help!”

“Clark Kent! They trust you every time you put your life on the line. Give them that same respect.” Lois announces one night.

That is finally the thing that lands in Clark's mind.

He is still worried.

Beyond worrying, he doesn’t want to betray your trust.

So on the day you open your front door, Clark has you in his arms before you can fully unlock the deadbolt.

You smile and hug him back, “I missed you too.”

For the rest of the evening Clark is always touching you in some way.

Arm around the shoulders.

Kiss on the cheek

Kiss on the neck

Kiss on the lips

Lots of kisses.

Until you lightly whisper to him, “I heard Superman was flying around D.C.?”

Clark sits straight up from his spot on the couch.

He coughs and clears his throat, “Dangerous area… Washington D.C. is.”

You laugh and brush his shoulder, “Of course… stalker”

“HEY”

Dick Grayson:

Dick blows up your phone while you are gone.

Like 75 messages a day.

“I miss you”

“I love you”

"I saw a cat that reminded me of you today!”

Tiktok link

Tiktok link 

Tiktok link

Eventually the storage your phone is held in during the mission is broken into just to turn your ringer off. 

Dick has full faith in your abilities and your return, but goddam he misses you something fierce.

His siblings declare him useless during this time as all he does in the cave is glare at your message thread.

He stays on top of his work as Nightwing, and does everything he is supposed to do, but… he complains

ALOT

He’s one of those who says “sigh”

And if no one give him attention he says the word again, but louder, “SIGH”

Towards the end the family thinks they want you back more than him just so he can shut up about you being gone. 

Tim buys pizza to celebrate when you get back.

But Nightwing is not moving from this spot for like a day.

You sit on the couch with him leaning your back against his chest as he holds you around the middle.

His favorite movie is playing in the background and his phone has been turned silent.

He is hoping to convince you to sleep out here like this rather than in bed tonight.

Jason Todd:

This man turns into a grump the second you leave his arms, and that's just if you go to the store on your day off.

You are being sent on a dangerous no contact mission to who knows where…

He’s pissed.

At the world

The FBI

Bruce

That pizza place across the street

The cup he broke this morning

Everything

Also he turns into a bit of a workaholic.

You place smells like you and it makes his chest ache every time he sees where you should be.

Jason respects your work.

He isn’t going to look for you if you don’t want to be found.

But god does he think about it.

There aren’t many pleasant thoughts while you are gone.

Most of them revolve around you being in similar situations as ones he has survived.

His nightmares usually revolve around the one he didn’t

So he goes a little harder on Gotham's criminals while you are away, and for a little while crime rates go down.

Which puts Jason back at square one.

Eventually, at Babs and Alfred's insistence, he starts writing you letters.

And it helps.

He will never be giving them to you, but it's nice to talk to you again and air out his anger in a ‘healthy’ way.

That's how you find him: sitting at the kitchen table writing a letter.

“Jay?”

His head perks up immediately.

He doesn’t run to you (though he wants to)

He just stares for a moment.

You are in one piece.

Not deep cuts or obvious bruises.

You have this smile on your face.

The one he thought of while you were gone.

The one that only happens when you are truly happy.

You end up walking to him.

You crouch down to him as he sits at the table lightly taking his face in your hands.

His eyes aren’t watery, but they sit filled with emotion.

That's when you pull him in.

He reciprocates the hug faster.

His arms shooting up to wrap around you.

Strong

Almost uncomfortable

But you don't pull away.

You will kneel with him until he is ready to let you go.

Which as far as he’s concerned is never.

Superboy Prime:

At first, He’s not worried.

Why would he be?

You’re strong. You’re capable. You’re you.

And more importantly, you always come back.

So the first day passes. Then the second. Then the third.

By the end of week one, he’s broken into three different federal databases.

By week two, he’s torn through five.

“Location,” he mutters, scrolling through classified files like they personally offended him. “Just give me a location.”

Every trace of you disappears the moment it gets close to something real.

Like you’ve been erased.

That’s when the problem starts.

Because if he can’t find you—

Then maybe no one can.

The thought settles in his chest like something heavy.

By week three, he’s stopped pretending he’s not looking.

Metropolis notices.

Rescues are rougher.

There’s no talking. No reassurance. No patience.

He doesn’t sleep.

He doesn’t need to.

Circling the same coordinates over and over again like something might just… appear if he looks hard enough.

“You don’t get to disappear on me.”

When you come back

He knows.

Before you open the door.

He feels it.

Like something snapping back into place.

You barely have time to react before he’s there.

“You’re late.”

His eyes rake over you- checking, scanning, searching for damage you can’t see.

“You were gone for twenty-three days, six hours, and-”

You grab his wrist.

“I’m okay.”

His jaw tightens.

“…That’s not the point.”

Your grip softens, thumb brushing against his pulse.

“Then what is?”

For a moment, he doesn’t answer.

“I couldn’t find you.”

It’s quiet.

Too quiet for someone like him.

Your chest aches a little at that.

“I wasn’t supposed to be found.”

“I know.”

The words come out sharp. Immediate.

“I know that.”

A second passes

“I still should have been able to.”

You step closer.

Careful. like approaching something that might shatter if you move too fast.

“I came back,” you say softly.

“Yeah,” he mutters.

Then, almost like he’s annoyed at himself for it, “…You did.”

There’s a pause.

And then he reaches for you.

Like he’s proving something to himself.

“You don’t get to do that again.”

You raise a brow at him, “Oh really?”

For a second, that familiar spark is back.

He leans in just slightly, something almost playful flickering through the tension-

“I knew you’d come back to me.”

Tim Drake:

The closest to being able to find your location.

Only at the last moment to be apprehended by the FBI with direct confirmation that: “they are alive and you need to fucking stop hacking into our database!”

He might have been a little sloppy in his search for you.

In response to the wave of attention thrust upon the Wayne’s in response, Tim has been Manor bound for about two weeks awaiting your return.

Two weeks, basically alone with his thoughts, and a missing in action partner. 

He hacks into the sprinkler system to spray water at Dick every time he comes home.

He turned all the oven temps back to fahrenheit to confuse Alfred.

He loosened the bolts in Bruce’s desk chair.

Jason kicked him out of the library after finding his annotations in Jason’s childhood journal.

And that was only day 1.

He was given a designated baby sitter (Tim sitter)

Mostly Damian.

An extremely annoyed Damian Wayne.

This… Tim could work with.

Damian has blind spots if you piss him off enough, and Tim can do that.

Tim did do that.

After a healthy combination of switching Damian’s paints for acrylic, dulling down his katanas, and snitching to Bruce about Damian’s poison collection: Tim had the batcave entirely to himself.

And more importantly… the bat computer. 

He had just gotten into the database again when he heard:

“Timothy Jackson Drake.”

Oh….oh

He turns to find you on the staircase

Damian standing smugly next to you.

He feels the FBI database warm the back of his neck and Tim stands up and runs to you.

He ignores your humph of displeasure before hugging you tighter and shoving the demon spawn away from you.

He feels the rumble of your lecture more than he hears it.

Choosing instead to listen to your ever beating heart and the warmth of your body being returned to him.

Eventually he weaves you through the manor to his room (As you lecture about his safety)

And pull you into bed with him.

Tim falls asleep in seconds.

This is the first thing that gives you pause.

You think back to the list of things Damian told you…

That couldn’t be accomplished in a few days regardless of meta powers by any one person.

Tim likely hasn’t slept since you left 3 weeks ago.

You decide to tell him next time, confidentiality be damned.

(Just don’t be surprised if he shows up to ‘help’)

Damian Al-Ghul-Wayne(aged up):

Damian understands covert operations.

He will not reach out

He will not interrupt

He will not break character.

That is what makes it obvious that he isn’t okay.

Damian reverts back to what he was like when he first moved into the manor.

Quick witted, sharp, angry, and short tempered.

The family catches on fast.

So they let him brood in his own way (while praying for your quick return)

He refuses to let himself think about you.

On purpose anyway

“They would love this-”

He shakes his head and walks away from the shop.

“I could easily find them-”

He freezes and turns to a mirror glaring at his own reflection for this perceived weakness, “You will get them killed.”

He secretly wants his siblings to fight with him.

Something other than their obvious looks of pity.

It peaks at the end of week 3.

He is attempting to paint you in the gardens and he realizes that he can’t remember the exact shade your eyes are.

The human mind is a fickle beast, and Damian’s is no difference.

In his desperate attempt to keep himself from pain, he is beginning to lose pieces of you in his mind.

He doesn’t move from that spot for hours.

Looking in anger at this portrait.

Convincing himself that the entire thing is wrong and that his mind can no longer be trusted with something as light as you.

The canvas sits out in the garden for the remainder of your absence.

Only being protected from the elements by Alfred as he moves it under an awning. 

Damian is often seen glaring at it from a distance.

Until you come home.

Bright and vibrant, just like he remembered.

So when you go for an embrace with him he simply grabs your hand and leads you out to the gardens. 

He sets you onto the small bench and goes back to his work.

Your questions of confusion are briefly ignored as Damian fixes every incorrect detail.

After a while he places his brush down and walks over to your small spot in the garden. 

He doesn’t say anything while brushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

He then simply pulls you into his chest and whispers, “I missed you, Habibi"

[kay-imma-head-out]

Hii, could you maybe, only if you feel like it, write something about drunk/tipsy batboys and sober/non-drinking reader, please? Would really appreciate it if you did :)

Also just wanted to say that I really like your works and because of your cool and sometimes different/unique ideas I tend to read some of your fics which I usually wouldn't (cause the subject's not thing), but I just really want to know your take on the idea and 99% (if not 100%) of the time I absolutely love it

The Media is Gonna Have A Field Day With This One

batboys x reader

Clark Kent x Reader

Includes: Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne

Summary: It's rare that the boys drink, but there is always an exception. (That usually ends with someone falling from great heights)

A/N: Thank you for the kind words!! I decided not to make them fully sloshed (minus Jason) because I kind of just wanted them tipsy for today. I’m so glad you have been liking my posts. It's so heart warming, and I'm glad you like some of the more off the wall prompts. I always enjoy writing those most. But, I did want to warn yall all that my thesis is due in two weeks. The post might be a little less consistent for the time being.

Bruce:

You lost Bruce somewhere after Alfred gave him his last drink.

Bruce doesn’t drink, on principle as a rule.

So when you stole a small drink of Bruce's cocktail and you tasted an ungodly amount of Everclear…

“Alfred, Do you know where the birthday boy is?”

“I believe… the roof.” He nods in the direction of the stairs.

You thank him and begin walking towards the door.

“Mistress-” you turn to him, “I believe Master Bruce was… unaware of the alcohol content in that drink when he finished four of them.”

You nod, “Oh… thank you for telling me.”

You run to the roof.

To your relief, Bruce is far from the edge.

“Darling! I think Alfred spiked my drink.”

Well at least he is happy, “I think so as well, dear.”

You join him on the ground of the roof of Wayne manor faintly hearing the party continue in the background.

The stars are barely visible in the Gotham sky, but you feel a sense of peace as for the first time tonight it feels like you can breathe.

“The kids usually hide up here during galas.” Bruce whispers swaying slightly, bumping into your shoulder.

“That explains the cigarette buts and energy drink cans.” You wonder aloud pointing to the various bits and bobs.

“I need to watch Tim’s caffeine intake more. I’m starting to worry about his heart.” You says (mostly to yourself) before leaning back, stretching your back onto the roof.

You sit for another moment before Bruce starts talking, “I worry about them. All of them. All the time.”

There it is.

Alcohol doesn’t change Bruce.

It just… lowers the walls.

“You trained them well, Bruce. They will be just fine.”

“Things happen. Gotham is… unpredictable. I can’t train them for everything.” Bruce whispers

You lean up onto your elbow and slowly rub your hand down his arm, “You can’t. That's where your trust in them comes in.”

The silence settles again.

“I… apologize.” He whispers moments later.

“For what, dear? I worry about them too.”

“I shouldn’t burden you with my responsibilities.” Bruce mumbles before attempting to stand.

He wobbles, but catches himself before you stand.

“Your responsibilities are my responsibilities. Including helping you down the stairs.”

He huffs, “I’m not that drunk.”

Perfectly timed, Bruce trips over his own two feet.

You catch up to him and lightly wrap your arms around him for support, “Of course, my dear. Of course.”

He lets you help him down the stairs after.

Clark Kent:

“HEY,” A voice calls as you walk out of your workplace, “I think this is yours.”

You turn around to see three figures all looking like they just got back from hell.

The most important being the figure in the middle who cannot actively stand on his own.

He shout, “BABY” 

oh… yes that one is yours.

Is he?

Oh no… Ma and Pa are gonna kill you.

Oliver Queen pats you on the back before almost 300 pounds of muscle throws itself at you.

“Were you on a red sun planet?” You whisper dragging him towards your apartment ignoring the concerned looks from passers by.

“Nooo, Someone tried to poison Bruce. I drank it instead.” He slurs.

His body never follows logic, You don’t know why you try.

You make it up the stairs (because of course this is the week for maintenance on the elevator.)

“Have I told you… how amazing you look today?” He slurs… again.

“Yes, my dear. This is the third time since I caught you.”

He pouts as you finally open your apartment door, “Oh…” He turns (and almost falls in the process), “Well you look amazing. You always look amazing”

You manage to get him inside, kicking the door shut behind you as he leans all of his weight onto you like gravity suddenly means more to him than anyone else on the planet.

“Okay- okay, sit.” You guide him toward the couch.

He misses it.

Completely.

You sigh, adjusting your grip and steering him again, “Couch, Clark. The big, very visible piece of furniture.”

“Oh.” He nods seriously, as if this is brand new information, before collapsing onto it- this time successfully, though not gracefully.

You barely have a moment to breathe before he’s reaching for you again.

“Come here,” he murmurs, grabbing at your wrist with surprising gentleness for someone who could level a building.

You let yourself be pulled down beside him, though you keep a careful eye on where his hands are landing.

“I need to tell you something important.”

“That’s… rarely a good sign when you say it like that,” you mutter.

He leans in, far too close, squinting at your face like he’s trying to memorize it.

“I love you,” he says, very seriously. “Like- a lot. Like, a lot a lot.”

Your expression softens despite yourself, “I would hope so.”

“No, but you don’t understand,” he insists, shaking his head, which only seems to make the world spin faster for him. He winces. “You’re- ” he gestures vaguely at you, at the room, at everything, “-you’re my favorite. Of all time.”

You press your lips together to keep from smiling too wide, “Well, that’s good. I’d hate to lose to Batman.”

Clark gasps like you’ve personally offended him, “Bruce?!” He tries to sit up straighter and fails, falling back into the couch cushions. “No- he’s- he’s very grumpy. You are not grumpy.”

“I can be.”

“No,” he says firmly, reaching out to poke your cheek, “you’re soft.”

You catch his hand before he can do it again, holding it between both of yours, “I’ll be sure to let Bruce know next time I see him.”

“I saved him,” Clark says proudly, already halfway to dozing off. “Hero.”

“Yes, you are,” you murmur, brushing your thumb across his knuckles. “A very intoxicated hero.”

He hums, eyes slipping closed.

There’s a brief moment of peace- you think he’s out.

Then-

“Hey,” he mumbles.

“Yes?”

“You really do look amazing.”

You huff out a quiet laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder, “Go to sleep, Clark.”

“Okay,” he agrees instantly.

And just like that- he’s gone.

You sit there for a moment, listening to his steady breathing, the chaos of the night finally settling into something soft and manageable.

“…I’m never letting Bruce live this down,” you mumble to yourself.

Dick Grayson:

“Hey, hey Future Grayson-”

You check the caller ID again, “Future Grayson?”

“Dicks about to jump off the roof into a pool. He told me to call if he was gonna do something stupid”

You sigh, “Thank you, Wally. I'm on my way. Keep him off the roof please.”

You can hear his grimace, “I can try… but I don't think I'd win against Dick.”

You pull on a jacket and grab your keys and start walking towards your car, “Just try your best Wally.”

You hear some distant yelling before Wally hangs up on you.

You’re already halfway there before your phone buzzes again.

You answer without checking this time, “Please tell me he’s not airborne.”

“He is so airborne- ” Wally starts.

There’s a loud splash.

A beat.

“…Okay, never mind,” Wally amends. “He’s in the pool.”

You close your eyes briefly as you pull into the driveway, “Is he alive?”

“Unfortunately,” Wally says, far too amused. “And very proud of himself.”

You hang up on him.

By the time you make it to the backyard, there’s a small crowd gathered around the pool- various party guests, a few Titans, and one very soaked Dick Grayson hauling himself out of the water like this was all part of a carefully planned performance.

“- and that,” Dick announces, slicking his hair back, “is how you make an entrance.”

“You jumped off a roof,” you call out, arms crossed.

His head snaps toward you instantly.

And then- oh.

Oh no.

That grin.

“Future Grayson!” he beams, like you’re the best part of this entire night.

You pinch the bridge of your nose as you walk closer

“I told you it would catch on,” Wally says from somewhere behind you pointing at Donna. “This is the best decision I’ve ever made.”

She hands him 5 bucks

Dick, meanwhile, is making his way toward you with all the confidence in the world and absolutely none of the coordination.

You meet him halfway before he can slip on the tile.

“Easy,” you murmur, grabbing his arm.

“I meant to do that,” he says, leaning into you like he hasn’t just risked his life for fun.

“I’m sure you did.”

He tilts his head, studying your face with exaggerated focus, “You came.”

“You told someone to call me when you were about to do something stupid,” you remind him.

He considers that for a second.

“…I do a lot of stupid things.”

“Yes,” you deadpan. “You really, really do.”

He laughs- bright and easy and completely unbothered- before dropping his forehead lightly against your shoulder.

“I knew you’d come anyway,” he says, softer now.

That… takes a little bit of the edge off your irritation.

“Yeah, well,” you sigh, adjusting your grip on him when he sways, “next time, maybe we aim for not needing a rescue.”

“No promises,” he replies immediately.

“Of course not.”

There’s a pause before he lifts his head again, eyes lighting up like he’s just had another idea.

“Oh! You should’ve seen it from up there,” he says, gesturing vaguely toward the roof. “The view? Incredible. The landing? Stuck it.”

“You landed in a pool, Dick.”

“Exactly,” he says, like that proves his point.

You stare at him for a long moment.

Then- 

“…We’re going home.”

“Aww,” he pouts, though he makes no real effort to argue as you start guiding him toward the exit. “But I was just getting started.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

He brightens suddenly, looping an arm around your shoulders as if he’s the one steadying you.

“Hey,” he says, conspiratorial, “when we get home- can I show you the flip again?”

You don’t even hesitate.

“No.”

“…What if I do it inside?”

“Absolutely not.”

“What if- ”

“Dick.”

“Yeah?”

You glance over at him, softening just a little despite everything, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

He smiles at that- something quieter, more genuine slipping through the chaos.

“Me too,” he says.

Then, not five seconds later- 

“I could definitely make that jump from your apartment building.”

You stop walking.

“Richard John Grayson.”

“…Yes?”

“Don’t.”

He grins.

And you already know this is not the last time you’re getting that call.

Jason Todd:

“Doll, I made a bet with Roy that I can sink the eight ball with you on my shoulder!” Jason runs over and makes grabby motions with his hands.

You probably should have cut him off a while ago… but it's rare to see him act his age.

You take a single step back, eyeing him carefully, “Absolutely not.”

“C’mon, Doll,” Jason insists, still making those grabby hands like that’s somehow convincing, “it’s a solid plan.”

“You want to use me as a pool accessory.”

“A lucky pool accessory,” he corrects.

From across the room, Roy snorts, leaning against the table, cue stick slung over his shoulder, “He’s been talking about this for ten minutes. I dared him to ask.”

You shoot Roy a look, “You’re a bad influence.”

“Says the person who didn’t cut him off,” Roy shoots back, not even a little sorry.

…Okay, fair.

You turn back to Jason, who is now significantly closer than he was a second ago.

“When did you get over here?” you ask.

“Speed,” he says confidently.

“You don’t have super speed.”

“I have motivation,” he counters, already reaching for your waist.

You catch his wrist mid-air, holding it there, “Jason.”

He pauses.

There’s a split second where he looks at you, really looks at you, and you can see it: the challenge, the amusement, the hope.

“…Please?” he tries again, softer this time.

You narrow your eyes.

“You are not putting me on your shoulder so you can show off.”

“I’m not showing off,” he says immediately.

Roy coughs. Loudly. “Bull- ”

“- I am winning a bet,” Jason finishes, glaring over his shoulder.

You sigh, already feeling yourself lose this argument.

“You drop me, I will kill you.”

“Worth it,” he says, far too quickly.

“Jason.”

“Kidding. Mostly.”

You hesitate for one more second.

“Fine.”

His entire face lights up.

“- but if I even feel like you’re about to fall- ”

“I won’t,” he promises, already moving.

That was your second mistake.

One second you’re standing.

The next- 

You’re over his shoulder.

“Jason!” you yelp, grabbing onto his jacket as the room tilts.

“I got you, I got you,” he laughs, one arm securely hooked behind your knees like this is the easiest thing in the world.

“You didn’t even count down!”

“Would you have agreed if I did?”

“…No!”

“Exactly.”

You groan, but your grip tightens anyway as he carries you over to the pool table, completely unfazed by the extra weight.

Roy is grinning now, setting up the shot, “This is the best night of my life.”

“If I die, I’m haunting both of you,” you inform them.

“Noted,” Roy says. “Now hold still.”

“I am still! He’s the problem!”

Jason adjusts you slightly- gentler than his earlier chaos suggested he’d be

“Comfortable?” he asks, quieter now, like the question actually matters.

“…Yes,” you admit after a second.

“Good,” he says.

Then, just as quickly, the cocky grin is back.

“Watch and learn, Doll.”

You brace yourself as he leans over the table, lining up the shot like this is completely normal behavior.

There’s a moment of silence.

Focus.

Then- 

Crack.

The eight ball sinks cleanly into the corner pocket.

Roy stares.

“…No way.”

Jason straightens, triumphant, one hand still steadying you like he forgot you’re even there in the best possible way.

“Pay up,” he says, smug.

You lift your head, blinking, “Wait- he actually did it?”

“Of course I did,” Jason scoffs.

Then, softer, just for you- 

“Told you I had you.”

Okay… that warms your chest just a little.

You huff, trying to ignore it, “Put me down before I change my mind.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, but he’s careful as he sets you back on your feet.

Your legs wobble slightly when you land.

His hands linger for just a second longer than necessary.

“Still alive,” he notes.

“Barely.”

Roy tosses a bill onto the table, shaking his head, “I hate both of you.”

Jason just grins.

You, on the other hand, are already reaching for his drink.

“I’m cutting you off.”

“Hey- !”

“Non-negotiable.”

He watches you take it, expression shifting into something fond and a little exasperated.

“…Worth it,” he says again.

And honestly?

You believe him

Tim Drake:

“How did this transpire?” You mumble looking down at your boyfriend sticking out of a bush.

You follow his finger upward.

There he is- hovering, arms crossed, laughing like this is the highlight of his entire week.

“You dropped him in a bush?” you call up.

Conner shrugs midair, completely unapologetic, “He said he could make the jump.”

“I could make the jump,” Tim mutters from the shrubbery, voice muffled. “Variables changed.”

“You missed the balcony by ten feet.”

“Wind resistance.”

“There is no wind.”

Tim goes quiet for a second.

“…Unpredictable wind resistance.”

You press your lips together, fighting a smile as you crouch down next to the bush, carefully pulling a branch away from his hair.

“You good?” you ask, softer now.

“I’m fantastic,” he says flatly. “This is exactly where I wanted to be tonight.”

A twig snaps as he tries to shift.

“…Okay, I might be stuck.”

“Shocking.”

From above, Conner snorts again.

You glance up, unimpressed, “You’re not helping.”

“I offered to catch him!”

“You didn’t catch him.”

“I miscalculated,” Conner says, like that means anything coming from someone who can literally hear heartbeats across the city.

You shake your head and turn back to Tim, gently working another branch free from his jacket.

“Alright, come on,” you murmur, holding out your hands.

Tim looks at you.

Then at your hands.

Then back at you.

“…I’m going to need you to ignore how undignified this is.”

“I started ignoring that the moment I got here.”

“Great,” he says. “That’s great. Love that for me.”

You grab onto him and pull.

He does not move.

You try again.

Nothing.

“…Tim.”

“Yes?”

“Why are you this stuck?”

“I told you,” he says, like this is obvious, “variables.”

You narrow your eyes.

Then look up.

“Conner.”

“Oh no,” Tim starts immediately. “No, absolutely not”

But it’s too late.

There’s a rush of air as Conner drops down beside you, still grinning.

“This is so worth it,” he says.

“If you laugh one more time, I’m leaving him here,” you warn.

Conner mimes zipping his lips.

You step back, gesturing, “Lift him. Gently.”

“I am always gentle,” Conner says, already reaching into the bush.

Tim goes very still.

“Conner,” he says carefully, “if you rip this jacket, I will-”

He’s cut off as Conner easily pulls him free in one smooth motion.

There’s a brief pause.

Tim blinks.

You blink.

Conner dusts off his hands like he’s just completed a simple chore.

“…Huh,” Tim says.

You cross your arms, “Variables?”

Tim straightens what’s left of his dignity

along with his very wrinkled, slightly torn jacket.

“I stand by my earlier assessment.”

Conner loses it again.

You sigh, stepping forward to fix Tim’s collar, brushing off a stray leaf from his shoulder.

He lets you, quieting a little.

“…Thank you,” he says, softer now.

“Of course,” you reply.

There’s a beat.

Then-

“I almost had it,” he adds.

You stare at him.

“Tim.”

“Yes?”

“You were in a bush.”

“A temporary setback.”

Conner wheezes.

You shake your head, but you can’t help the small smile that slips through as you take Tim’s hand.

“C’mon,” you say, tugging him gently away from the crime scene. “Let’s get you inside before you try to factor in more ‘variables.’”

He laces his fingers with yours easily, falling into step beside you.

“…For the record,” he says, glancing back at the balcony, “I could still make that jump.”

You don’t even break stride.

“No.”

“Okay, but-”

“Tim.”

“…Yeah?”

“Don’t.”

A pause.

“…Not tonight.” You glance at him, “…We’ll workshop it later.”

And just like that, he brightens.

Conner groans behind you.

“Absolutely not. I’m not helping next time.”

You and Tim say, in perfect unison-

“Didn’t ask.”

Damian Al-Ghul-Wayne(aged up):

You notice it almost immediately.

Not the chaos, there’s always chaos at these things.

The absence of it.

“…Where’s Damian?” you ask, glancing around the room.

Dick pauses mid-story. Jason looks up. Tim frowns slightly.

There’s a beat.

“…He was here,” Dick says.

“That’s not reassuring,” you reply.

Jason’s already moving, expression sharpening in a way that cuts through whatever alcohol he had earlier, “I’ll check the grounds.”

“I’ll take the roof,” Tim adds.

You don’t wait.

You already have a feeling.

The garden is quieter than the rest of the manor.

The music is distant, muffled by stone and distance, replaced instead by the soft rustle of leaves and the faint hum of the city beyond the gates.

You find him exactly where you expected.

Sitting on the low stone wall, back straight, hands resting on his knees like he hasn’t moved in hours.

“…There you are,” you say gently.

Damian doesn’t turn immediately.

“I was not aware I was lost.”

“You weren’t,” you agree, stepping closer. “We were.”

That gets a small glance from him.

You stop a few feet away, giving him space.

“…Too loud?” you ask.

He considers the question.

“…Irritating,” he settles on.

“Fair.”

There’s a pause as you both look out over the garden.

“You left,” he says.

You blink, caught slightly off guard, “I- what?”

“The party,” Damian clarifies, though his tone stays even. “You were no longer inside.”

“I was checking on everyone,” you explain. “Including you.”

“I did not require checking on.”

“I wanted to.”

That lands.

“I am not a child.”

“I know.”

A pause.

“…You worry.”

“I do.”

“…Unnecessarily.”

“Constantly.”

He exhales softly.

“I did not wish to interrupt.”

Your chest tightens.

“You wouldn’t have.”

He studies you.

Then nods.

“…Walk with me,” you say.

“I will accompany you.”

Of course he will.

His hand brushes yours.

You don’t comment.

You just take it.

“…Next time,” he says, quieter, “inform me before you leave.”

“You want a heads up?”

“I prefer awareness.”

You smile.

“Okay.”

Inside, something crashes.

Damian doesn’t react.

“…We should remain here.”

You laugh softly.

“Yeah. I think that’s a good call.”

And for once

You let the chaos stay somewhere else.

[kay-imma-head-out]

A Little Party Never Killed Nobody

batboys x reader

Clark Kent x Reader

Includes: Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, and Damian Wayne

Summary: You can handle yourself after a night out, you always have. That doesn’t stop them from watching. From noticing. From stepping in anyway.

A/N: I JUST REALIZED I MISREAD THE REQUEST FOR THIS ONE….. Lovely. Welp, I'm gonna post it anyway since it's done. (Fear not dear requester, its still coming)

Bruce Wayne:

In principle, you don’t drink in Gotham.

The media is cutthroat enough without you making a fool of yourself

But… you aren't in Gotham.

And Dinah makes some damn good drinks.

So, maybe… you went a little off the handle.

“B, Brucie, BRuuuuucccceeee, Mr. Wayne, I can stand on my own, thank you.”

You faint sigh, “Dear, I truly don’t think you can.”

“Ha,” you break away from his hold on your hip and to your credit you are able to walk.

…

Not for very long, BUT THAT'S BESIDES THE POINT

You make it about a block before Bruce comes up behind you and sweeps you into his arms.

“Hey-” and just as you are about to come up with a brilliant retort-

“My love, I know you are able to, but I am not able to watch you struggle when I have the ability to aid you.”

You laugh but relent your squirming regardless, “‘Aid me’ What am I, a fair damsel in need of attending.”

“At this moment,” Bruce laughs, pulling you slightly closer to his chest, “I believe you are quite similar.”

The walk back to the hotel is peaceful, you likely fade in and out of consciousness a few times before Bruce walks you both into the penthouse.

You feel the words slur their way out of your mouth, “You know, my father used to walk my mother back to the house like this whenever she got drunk?”

“Really?” Bruce mumbles lying you down onto the mattress.

You nod, “He claimed that whenever he took his arms off her she would disappear the moment he looked away.”

Bruce nods, but gains a sort of solemn look in his eye, “I understand that fear.”

You shake your head and rub your hand up and down his arm, “Noooo, don’t get like that!”

You watch his eyebrows furrow, “Do what?”

You pop up onto your help and lightly boop his nose, “You get that Batman look in your eye sometimes. You get all broody.”

Bruce rolls his eyes, “Broody?”

You stick your finger behind your ears making imitation bat ears, “I have to keep everyone I love at a safe distance or they will leave me.”

You lower the ears and bring his face to yours (smooshing his nose in the process), “You can’t get rid of me that easily. I’m stubborn.”

There it is that laugh that you hunt for.

The one that is so rare.

“I know you are,” He kisses you lightly, “I had to drag you away from the dart board against Oliver tonight.”

“HE WAS CHEATING.”

“Sure he was,” He drags the covers over you, “Now, before you pass out-”

“I’m not even tired!-”

“Yes of course, dear. I’m gonna bring some meds. Do not fall asleep before I get back.”

You laugh, “HA, please I am more awake than you are.”

Bruce kisses your forehead and heads out.

You are out cold when he gets back.

“Predictable,” he murmurs, though there’s no bite to it as he sets the glass down and smooths your hair away from your face.

He removes your shoes and notices the bleeding blisters on the back of your heel.

“I should have started carrying them sooner.”

Clark Kent:

“GOD IT'S DARK IN HERE. How can you see?”

“There’s a lamp on.” Clark turns to see you holding your shoes in your hands.

Seems like the night out was a success.

“That?” You point to the candle burning on the table, “That is not a lamp.”

He shrugs and wipes his hands on a rag, “Potato, potahto.”

He watches as you mimic him and turn on the lamp on the end table.

“Soooooo, how was your night?” You ask sliding down onto the kitchen floor opposite of him.

“Much less interesting than yours. I could have picked you up.”

You wave a hand at him, “I’m brave, I got it. But Jimmy, he wanted to ask out that flight attendant.”

Clark tilts his head and kneels down to your level, “How’d you know that? I didn’t even know she was a flight attendant.”

Your eyes grow wide before bursting out into laughter, “I-”

You weave, “I sent her over to him. She wanted a good lay.”

Clark’s face heats up, “Well, that's… good for him.”

“I know right. Lois came up with the idea, but was too chicken to ask. I reminded her how I got with Clark-”

Clark nods in acknowledgement before huffing a laugh, “Getting ‘with Clark’ is not the same as this sweetheart.”

You shrug, “It worked,” You point at him, “Right?”

“Yes, it worked.”

“See! I told ya.”

Clark slides down next to you on the floor, “You have many talents.”

He presses a quick kiss into your hair, lingering for just a second longer than usual.

“I KNOW, I’m going to that wedding.” You declare.

“I’m sure Jimmy will invite you to the wedding.”

The oven alarm goes off.

Clark pops back up and pulls pizza out of the oven.

“HOW DID YOU KNOW I WANTED PIZZA.”

“Sweetheart, you always want pizza or-” He pulls a bag out of the fridge.

“Taco Bell!”

“-or Taco Bell after you come back from a night out. I decided to play it safe and get both”

You wobble to a stand and hug him from behind, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too. Do you want to eat here or on the couch?”

You slide back down the cabinet shelves.

“I’ll take that as in here.” He swings the bag towards you and joins you on the floor.

He swings one arm around your shoulder and the other holds the pizza box tilting it in your direction. 

The moment is perfect, the cold tile, the warm snacks and his weighted arm over your shoulder.

It’s not often Clark wishes he didn’t have powers, but he craves being able to drink with you on nights like these.

He might not be able to, but he can try his best to let you enjoy it.

Dick Grayson:

As Dick drags you out of the 

“I shoulda known better.”

“For once, I agree.”

Dick slams the car door behind him, “No one can out drink Jason.”

You giggle, “No one… can out drink Jason.”

The small giggle ends up evolving into hysterical laughter.

The kind of laughter where sound is no longer coming out of your lungs.

“Babe, I need you to breathe.” Dick lightly pats on your back.

“Do- Do you remember when-” Another dramatic wheeze.

The laughing fit extends and you’re not entirely sure what you're laughing at anymore, but it's hilarious.

Eventually, Dick pulls into his apartment parking garage and assists you to your feet.

You are favoring one leg…

How did he miss that

“When did you get that cut?” he asks, pulling you to your feet.

“Somewhere between the shots and pool.”

He will be following up with that in the morning as he takes another look at your scrapped knee.

You take a step, leaning most of your weight onto the car, before you crumble into laughter again.

Despite Dick’s effort, he can’t seem to have as much fun as you are.

You are safe, he is there, but… something feels wrong.

He can’t enjoy your giggling because he is too worried you will trip over your own foot.

“I’ve seen you do a back flip drunk before-” Oh god.

“No, nope. Absolutely not.” He starts steering you towards the elevator. 

“You underestimate me.”

A huff forces itself out of his lungs, “No, I don't, which is why we are going inside where at least it's carpeted and not concrete."

“Scardy cat…” You mutter letting yourself be steered in the current direction.

“I must confess, I am a little scared of you right now.”

You laugh as you fall into your doorway, “Lookie there, big old-”

Door slams shut

“-Nightwing is scared a me.”

Dick catches you before you hit the ground.

“Alright, you’ve lost walking privileges.” He throws you onto his back.

Your giggles ramp up again.

“I have a feeling this is not going to end well for me.” Dick mumbles walking towards the bathroom.

“The bird walks with its mate-”

“Ew mate”

“-shut up, on its back ensuring its safety after the mate drank too many fermented berries.”

Dick nods, “Yes, yes he does.”

Dick turns into the bathroom.

“The bird takes a sharp turn and almost throws its koala-”

“You’re a koala now?”

“-Shut up, off its back.”

He tightens his grip on your legs just a little when you wobble again.

Dick grabs some bandaids and tylenol before continuing his trek through the house.

Rather than continue your narration, you start playing with his hair.

You both quiet down after this.

You focused on gently rubbing his scalp, him focused on not dropping you and enjoying the calm for the first time tonight.

He bandages up your leg from a tumble earlier in the night and goes to fetch you a glass of water.

Your hand shoots out, “Stay?”

“Of course”

He doesn’t even make it to the kitchen.

Jason Todd:

The door opens with a slam.

Jason’s hand goes to the gun on the table before quickly retreating when he recognizes that it's you.

You point at him from the other room, “I could take you in a fight right?”

Jason breaks out in a smile, so it was one of those kinda nights out.

“I’m sure you could, Doll.”

“Thank you! That's what I said and no one believed me.” You raise your hands in outrage.

“You got that hit on me at the arcade.”

You turn and glare at him, “You had a VR headset on…”

Jason shrugs, “Okay, go ahead.”

You wind up your arm and in your drunken state it feels like you move a mile a minute.

Jason catches your wrist mid-movement causing you to fall into him.

He manages to catch you, himself, and keep the glass of water in his hand without spilling.

“You…, Jason Peter Todd, are terrifying.” You say quickly righting yourself.

From Jason's point of view, every step you take is a little off.

You almost fall here, you need to regain your balance there. 

He follows you like one would a newborn taking their first steps. 

He moves things out of your path without commenting.

“Jaybear,” You mumble, grabbing a slice of bread from the kitchen and shoving it into your mouth, “You're hovering.”

He shakes his head but flinches in your direction as you attempt a figure eight in your socks on the tile, “Not hovering. Just… double checking.”

You laugh around the bread, “Double checking for what?”

You slip… again.

He catches you… again, “For that, ma-”

You are… less stable than normal. Did you hit your head?-

You sigh and lean your head into his shoulder as he rights you.

He freezes.

Like he’s not entirely sure what to do with that.

Before slowly softening into you.

“Did you eat anything tonight?” He whispers into your hair.

You raise the slice of bread in the air.

“Anything else, doll?”

You mumble a ‘no’ into his shoulder.

You mumble something else. Guilt lacing your voice, “I mighta hit my head.”

He exhales, “You don’t get to be careless.”

You once again hold up the bread.

“Not proving your point.” He replies, “I’m calling Alfred.”

“I trust you. I’ll be okay. It wasn’t that bad” You whisper, obviously falling asleep in his arms.

He sighs, “You know we have to talk about this in the morning right? Just because you trust someone doesn’t mean you should let down your guard.”

You huff and cuddle yourself closer, “You’re not just someone, Jay”

He is quiet for a while before walking you to the bed and laying you down.

He really doesn't want you to sleep right now, hes gotta check your pupils first.

“You are ruining my ‘tough guy’ image.”

You laugh, “Jay, you read Austen anyone who knows you knows you’re not a ‘tough guy’”

Jason rolls his eyes, “Austen’s badass.”

“Of course she is Jay.”

Jason moves away from you to lock up for the night and grab a light to give you a once over.

Tim Drake:

The manor is quiet when you stumble in.

Too quiet.

It’s late enough that even the grandfather clock feels like it’s judging you.

You don’t make it past the main sitting room.

At some point between kicking off your shoes and declaring you were “perfectly capable of productivity,” you both end up on the floor.

Takeout containers everywhere. A couple empty bottles. Tim’s laptop glowing between you like it’s the only thing keeping him alive.

You lean closer to the screen, squinting.

“I’ve cracked it,” you whisper.

Tim hums, not looking away, “Have you.”

“Yes,” you nod seriously, fingers already moving across the keyboard, “Einstein could never.”

Tim doesn’t stop you.

Not immediately.

He watches for a moment, eyes half-lidded, brain lagging just enough to let it happen.

You type with full confidence.

Absolute nonsense.

A pause.

Then slowly, Tim reaches over and slides the laptop out from under your hands.

You gasp like he’s committed a crime.

He scans the document.

Scrolls.

Scrolls again.

“…This is not usable data.”

You glare at him, “You’re not usable data.”

He lets out a quiet huff of a laugh, rubbing at his eyes, 

He hands you a bottle of water, “Drink,”

“I will when you do.” You poke him for emphasis

“I’m not drunk.”

You roll over, “And I wasn’t dehydrated yesterday.”

He goes silent

You beam like you’ve won.

He nudges the water bottle closer to your hand.

You roll your eyes but take a large drink before shoving it back at him.

Silence settles again, softer this time.

You both sink further into the carpet.

Tim leans his head back against the couch, blinking slowly like he’s trying to keep himself upright through sheer will.

“You should sleep,” you mumble.

“So should you.”

“I’m serious, Tim.”

“So am I.”

Neither of you move.

A beat passes.

You reach over and cover his eyes with your hands

“You can’t even see,” you mutter, “You’re done.”

“I can still see,” he argues weakly.

“You just tried to open your email in the calculator app.”

“…That was one time.”

“That was thirty seconds ago.”

He exhales, something in him finally giving way.

“If I stop, I won’t start again.” He whispers

You nod, already settling back down, “Five minutes.”

Another beat.

Your head tips sideways, right onto his shoulder.

You’re out almost instantly.

Tim goes still.

Careful.

Always careful.

He glances down at you, then at the laptop, then back at you again.

The screen dims.

He doesn’t reach for it.

Instead, he shifts, slowly, so you’re more comfortable, one hand coming up to steady you without waking you.

His hand reaches for the laptop again. It stops halfway.

“…Five minutes,” he mutters.

He doesn’t move.

Damian Al-Ghul-Wayne(aged up):

A thud. A pause. Then another, slightly more dramatic thud.

“That better not be you.”

“It is me,” you call back, voice echoing slightly down the hall, “and I am doing great.”

Damian appears in the doorway just in time to watch you trip over absolutely nothing.

“…You are a liability.”

You gasp, offended, as you hold onto the wall “I am thriving.”

“You are falling.”

“I am adjusting.”

“You walked into the wall.”

“It moved.”

Damian pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly.

“Why are you like this?”

You beam at him, “Charming? Endearing? Delightful?”

“Intoxicated,” he corrects flatly, “You are never this uncoordinated even when… inebriated.”

You pull away from him with great determination.

“I can walk on my own.”

“You cannot.”

“I can.”

You take one step.

Then another.

A third-

You immediately trip.

Damian catches you again. Effortless.

He doesn’t even look surprised.

“I rest my case. You need water and carbs"

You squint up at him, “You’re judging me.”

“I am assessing a situation,” he replies, already steering you down the hall, “and determining that you are incapable of functioning independently.”

“Rude.”

“Accurate.”

You mutter under your breath but don’t fight him as much this time.

Halfway to your room, you stop abruptly.

Damian nearly runs into you.

“What now?”

You turn, very serious, grabbing his sleeve.

“…You’re nice sometimes.”

He halts before briefly glancing at you

“…I am always adequate.”

You shake your head, swaying slightly, “No. Nice and kind and charming and probably my favorite person.”

There’s a pause.

A small one.

Then-

“Do not make me repeat myself.”, But his grip on your arm adjusts like checking to see if he can be gentler.

When you reach your room, he sits you down with surprising care.

Water appears in your hand.

You don’t remember him grabbing it.

“Sit.” He instructs, “Drink.” He demands

“Do not move.” He adjusts the pillows like he’s setting a broken bone.

You glare but take a sip.

“…More.”

You sigh dramatically but obey.

He watches until you do.

Only then does he step back slightly, arms crossing.

“I will remain here.”

You blink up at him, “I’m not gonna die.”

“You walked into a wall.”

“It moved!”

Damian exhales sharply through his nose.

He moves to sit nearby, closer than necessary, though he would never acknowledge it.

You relax almost instantly.

Within minutes, your breathing evens out.

Damian remains where he is.

Watching.

Ensuring.

Long after it is no longer required.

“You’re staying with me.” You smirk at him.

“I am not staying. I am… monitoring.” he mutters quietly.

He stands.

Leaves.

…

The door opens again shortly after, quieter this time.

“…You have not worsened.”

He drapes a new blanket over your sleeping form.

[kay-imma-head-out]

You Have to Play the Part…. Right?

batboys x reader

Clark Kent x Reader

Conner Kent x Reader

Includes: Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Conner Kent and Damian Wayne

Summary: You knew he was going undercover. But… you didn’t know about the outfit, and the hair, and the accessories. You’re not sure if you are going to let him leave the room let alone the house.

A/N: Another self-indulgent piece. This is a little hotter than some of my other posts, but its all fade to black (who knows maybe I'll do a part two)

Bruce Wayne:

You thought you had seen Bruce in every shade and style of clothes.

You were wrong.

You’ve seen suits, model attire, naked, a towel, the cowl, and all of them are splendid.

If given the option, you would watch him in every form with a bowl of popcorn.

But this…

This is something else.

“You-“ you cough to clear your throat, “you’re going undercover in that?”

Your eyes rake over him, sliding over the muscle tank and black jeans.

There is a large gap leading from his shoulder to his hip showing all skin.

He turns abruptly, taking your view away from you, “Yes, Dick said I need to look “cool”. He’s the one who picked it out.”

Your head nods slightly, “Of course he did”

Bruce’s voice tunes out a bit as he slides the black, white, and red racing jacket over the black tee.

You sit there staring for longer than necessary.

It’s not that he looks hotter than usual right now… but it’s different.

He looks… younger maybe?

“-He said I dress like a CEO and that ‘wouldn’t fly’ at the race track-“

Your head tilts to the side as Bruce attempts to maintain his hair in his normal style.

It- clashes with the look.

He looks… normal?

Like on an average day he is classy, elegant, and very rich

This… he looks hot

Like the kind of man you would see on the street and just stare at.

“Mmmhmmm-“

“Darling? Are you listening to me.”

Your eyes squint, “the hair’s wrong.”

He looks up at the mirror, “This is how I do it for Matches Malone?”

You shake your head and gently push him down in a chair in front of the mirror.

Standing next to him. You grab a section of the gelled hair and… pull

His breath hitches suddenly at the sliver of pain “Hey!”

Not entirely necessary but DAMN

You can’t hide the smirk as you continue your chosen path.

“This is a different role than Brucie or Matches, hun,” you start threading your hands through his hair attempting to style it in the perfect in between of styled and ‘just rolled out of bed’, “This is a hot older man role right? You're trying to… win over some young thing with daddy issues at the race track.”

Another pull at the scalp.

“Ugh,” you watch his eyes glaze over just a little, “yeah,… yes”

“Then you have the look, but you always look hot. But you need the aura.”

You pull your hands out of his hair, not breaking eye contact with his through the mirror.

“Really and what ‘aura’ is that, my dear.”

You tilt your head just a little enough for your lips to rub against his ear while keeping that intense eye contact. 

“The just had a good fuck aura.”

“I think I can accomplish that.” Bruce moves faster than you can comprehend, grabbing your hip and flings you onto the other side of the chair.

Straddling his hips.

Bruce briefly checks his watch and grimaces before turning off his phone and flipping it over.

You feel the smile on your face widen.

He definitely is not going to be leaving on time.

You grab the last part, the aviator sunglasses and slide them onto the bridge of his nose.

If you have a say maybe he won’t leave at all.

Clark Kent:

“Honey! Can you come look at this? I think Bruce got the wrong size.”

Bruce Wayne needs a personal photographer for the night at a high end event, but he needs to be able to slip away without being tracked.

This is where Clark comes in.

Bruce (never one to tolerate an ill-fitting suit) sent one that was ‘tailored to his measurement’

You walk in holding your cup of ramen in your hand, the noodles hanging slightly out of your mouth.

The noodles are shoved into the back of your throat by a sudden intake of air as you see your partner.

The suit fits.

It definitely fits.

Clark runs over, “Hey, hey, hey. Breathe, okay” He rubs his hand over your back as you regain the air in your lungs.

Finally able to breathe again, Clark continues, “I knew it looked bad but you didn’t have to go and try to die on me.”

You shake your head fervently still clutching your chest, “No, it looks amazing, Clark.”

He huffs a laugh and leans away, “You don't need to lie, dear. It's way too tight.”

“Not lying. Here come on.” You drag him back in front of the mirror. You smooth your hands across his shoulders.

Which are somehow more impossibly broad in the grey suit.

“Suits like this are made to be a little uncomfortable in order to look…” You grab his chin and tilt it to the mirror, “like this.”

“You’re messing with me.”

You turn and look at him incredulously, “No, I wouldn’t lie about something like this.”

He looks unconvinced, “You promise.”

You nod and kiss his cheek, “I do.”

Clark straightens slightly, testing the suit, his confidence, and the appearance of the both of you in the mirror.

You see him settle a bit back into his skin.

You pull away and now convinced, Clark is ready to tease… just a little.

He turns to you “So… the choking situation. Did you see something you liked or-”

Your cheeks heat up, “Just an accident is all.”

He nods and takes a step towards you, “An accident?”

You take a brief step back, “Yep.”

Is… is he taller?

You glance down, Bruce sent dress shoes as well, the bastard.

Now that's just unfair, you think as Clark keeps herding you.

“Not any particular reason?”

You look anywhere but him, “Nope, just… tripped I guess.”

“Well, it's not right to… leave it unchecked.”

Your back thumps against the wall.

You’re stuck

You glance over and stutter, “Unchecked?”

Clark nods, “Of course. Here” He grabs a hold of your hands and gently drags them up his waist, across his shoulders, and finally to his neck.

Cruel. He is cruel.

You feel the heat on your face as you feel the muscles around his neck.

“Is it alright if I do that to you really quick? Or you could just tell me what's gotten you so riled up?”

Ten minutes, Clark has ten minutes before he is supposed to leave.

If you get started, there’s no way he’s leaving on time.

“You… look really nice in the suit.”

He nods, you gave him too much power, “Really? What do you like about it?”

Your head thunks against the wall and murmurs, “Your shoulders look nice.”

He leans forward and asks, “I’m sorry?”

“Your shoulders look hot in that blazer, and your waist is gorgeous! Okay?” You duck under his arm in a desperate last ditch to flee.

He grabs you fast, “You can’t just say stuff like that, honey.”

“You need to go save the world, remember?”

Clark shrugs, “Bruce is always fashionably late. I think I can return the favor this time.”

Dick Grayson:

“Supermodel, Richard John Grayson, is a secret vigilante protecting Bludhaven in the new double feature. Heaven is Bludhaven.” You yell from the bedroom as Dick changes in the closet.

“Ha Ha Ha, very funny,” is your muffled response through the closet door.

“Are you gonna let me see, or?”

The door swings open and Dick stands in front of you in a black turtle neck and dress pants.

But the real star is the accessories, silver jewelry.

A watch

Several rings

The splash of silver powder in his waterline

And a cuff earring on his cartilage.

You don’t say anything as Dick walks toward you.

Letting your eyes roam greedily over your boyfriend

He has this smirk on his face that truly pulls it all together

There is something… familiar about it.

What is it…?

Dick hasn’t taken his eyes off you the whole time.

Like he is waiting for something.

This is easily the best he has ever looked.

Like something out of a teenage dream… of… yours…

His eyes lock with your as you grab his hand and delicately twirl one of the rings on his fingers.

The smirk only grows as you lock into the small band.

“You know I haven’t worn anything like this since a gala Bruce threw when I was.... Gosh. How old was I?”

Your eyes widen as your face tilts back up to parallel Dick’s.

He couldn’t have. You left all of that stuff at your parent’s place.

Dick smiles at your state of fear before slowly pulling out a very well loved magazine.

“Ah, right 16!”

You are up and chasing him in a second.

Dick easily keeps the magazine out of your reach.

“Where did you find that!?” You say trying to jump and reach the magazine.

He pushes you over onto the bed easily, and hovers over you.

“You mom gave it to me the last time we went over. Said that if anyone should have it, it should be me.”

You can never go home again, but there are bigger problems to handle, “Ha ha, there's a good story to tell with that…”

“Oh yes, she told me all about that little crush you had on me when you were younger. The magazine clippings, the ranking of outfits, the playlists,... the blog.”

…

You stop any remaining struggle.

“She didn’t”

Dick nods and gently traces his nose up your neck and whispers, “Why didn’t you tell me.”

“It’s weird.”

He laughs, “We were both teenagers, it's far from weird. I am extremely flattered.”

You playfully hit him, “Shut up. I’m gonna kill her.”

He leans back up and moves your hands to his face, “You sure?”

Your eyes trace over that line of silver for what feels like the hundredth time.

“A very firm discussion at least.”

He nods, “Why this one?”

You move your admiration towards his earring, “What one?”

“Why’d you rank this one so high?”

“You look like everything I have ever wanted.”

You feel the blood rush to his face beneath your hands.

His smirk falters.

“Well-” he coughs and abruptly pulls away, “We can um-” He bumps into the bed frame, “finish this later, but I gotta go to that event.”

The… event?

The runway event!

Dick tries to make a break for it. Dick tries to make a break for it, shutting down the dynamic… 

He attempts to escape into the excuse of the event.

No, not now.

You sit up quickly and slide yourself between him and the door, “You just showed me a teenage dream that I had and now you want to leave? Sorry, Mr. Grayson. I can’t let that happen.”

Jason Todd:

Walking into your bedroom expecting everything to be normal was your first mistake.

Staring at Jason for so long was your second.

“Just spit it out Doll,”

Your eyes blink rapidly before you manage to squeak out, “Hubba,”

His head tilts suddenly, “That's a new one for ya.”

You walk over to him, the outfit is something you never would have seen him in.

A white button down shirt with a deep v that's rolled up to the elbows.

It's large enough to just expand his frame but still trim at the waist.

The black dress pants are high waisted as well only furthering the image.

Stunning, absolutely stunning.

You were about to tell him as much when you notice something else

The small necklace balanced right between his chest only exaggerated by the white shirt.

A necklace he got for you

The only thing on the small golden chain is your initial.

“You’re scaring me a bit here.” He asks, walking forward and taking your hands in his before lightly kissing your knuckles. 

His eyes trace over your face looking for some cause of distress.

“Where- Where are you headed, Jay?” You stutter out before abruptly dropping his hand and turning to look anywhere but that damn necklace. 

“There’s some big wig drug party at the casino. Dick and Bruce would be too recognizable so I was the best option.” His voice drops a bit, his tone turning soft, “Doll, you’re freaking me out can you just tell me what's wrong.” He rubs his hands down the front of his shirt, “It’s the outfit right? I told them it was too much. Babs was adamant about it, said the necklace would be a nice add on. I can take it off-”

“NO.” You turn abruptly.

Jason quickly raises his hands almost like he would need to block you.

You breathe, “Please don’t do that.”

He slowly lowers his hands, “Then you gotta talk to me.”

“It’s… the outfit…” You stop and walk towards him gently holding the charm of the necklace in your hands, “You’re drop dead gorgeous.”

He was not expecting that.

He huffs and pulls away abruptly, “That's a bit much doll, I know you're sorry for scaring me-”

You throw yourself onto the mattress and quickly cover your eyes with your elbow, “Jaaassssooonnn”

He throws himself next to you (you cringe as he wrinkles the fabric that likely cost more than your apartment), “Whaaaaat?”

You turn onto your elbow to look down at him, “You want me to be honest?”

“Always” he says seriously 

“My brain short circuited when I saw you, then I started panicking about who all was going to flirt with you tonight-” You gesture with your hands.

“-and then I saw the necklace.” You move the small charm with your finger, 

“and I realized that I wanted to earn that initial on your chest. Make it so ingrained in you that no one else will even try.”

A moment passes as you think over what you just said.

God.

Jason must think you're crazy.

He blinks at you, “Oh”

Feeling extremely embarrassed, you roll over and begin to make your speedy retreat,“I’m gonna go… take a cold shower. See you after the uh….. Thing.”

You do manage to make it to the bathroom and lock it before Jason moves off the mattress.

You sit with your head in your hands as you whisper aloud, “Oh, my, god. I need to be put down.”

Jason, having regained his head, easily opens the locked door,“You can’t just say stuff like that.”

You nod not removing your head from your hands, “I’m sorry, I just started talking and I couldn’t-”

As you begin your ramble you don’t even notice Jason walking towards you, so the abrupt pulling of your hands and the connection of your lips with his makes you jump.

Allowing Jason to deepen the kiss. 

He pulls back just as suddenly and tilts your head to look at him.

The necklace floating away from his chest directly in your eyeline.

His jaw tightens, “don’t say that again unless you mean it.”

You nod waiting for further direction.

“You wanted to prove something to me right?”

You nod again, slightly less confident.

“Then let's get to work.”

He drags you onto your feet and turns on the showerhead.

Tim Drake:

You never understood the hype for “bad boys”.

They often end with you being heartbroken and them moving on.

But after this?

You are starting to see the appeal.

Tim is, likely unconsciously, laying like a model on the den couch.

The fake tattoo sticking out of his sleeve as his hand plays with the box of cigarettes he stole from Jason.

You know the prompt, Tim has to try and capitalize on the perceived angle the press is pushing.

Tim is going through his “rebellious party years”

He is supposed to walk around the manor grounds looking like “a mess”

(Bruce’s words)

Luckily after a second all nighter, Tim is already half way there. 

With a slight hiccup.

He looks absolutely devastating.

You’ve been staring for a while, probably too long.

When Duke says, “That just isn’t fair.” Tim doesn’t even turn around at Duke's lament,  "How does he look better dressed as a hungover party boy than he does well rested?”

Stephanie hops on the barstool next to Duke and turns in your direction, “You are going to catch flies if you keep your mouth open like that.”

You briefly stop your gawking to glare at her choosing to ignore the following laughter as well. 

In that brief moment, you miss Tim’s eyes flick to you, then back to the small box like he’s filing something away.

Right before you turn back to him.

Tim lies on the couch in the den, a mostly undone black suit with the white undershirt unbuttoned to his chest.

Eye shadow has been applied to his under-eyes to emphasize the bags under his eyes, but the cherry on top is the poorly applied hickey on his neck.

“Hey, Tim.” He turns from his reclined state to look over at Stephanie, “Did you lose a fight with an octopus?”

“Very funny Steph.”

You should likely know better by now not to drink water around Stephanie, and yet.

“I bet your angel over here would give you a real one. They’ve been watching you since you walked out here this morning like they want to eat you.”

You slam the glass of water back on the table and quickly turn away from your boyfriend.

“And that my dear Duke, is our cue to leave.” She grabs his arm and pulls him into another room.

Tim sits up and lays his elbows on his knees.

He doesn’t need to say anything, just looks at you and slightly tilts his head.

You scoff cleaning up any spilled water, “You know Steph, she's just trying to rile me up.”

Still not saying a word, Tim stands up and leans next to you on the counter,

A minute passes and Tim realizes he likely won’t get what he wants without chipping in, “Mhm.”

A pause.

He lightly taps your leg with his dress shoe, “So you weren’t staring.”

You scoff and turn away to look at anything else, “Please, I think you’ve been hanging out with Dick too much.”

“Right of course,” He agrees.

And for a moment, you think you’ve won. You can move on with your day without-

“So what were you looking at?”

…

Shit

You hesitate.

He tilts his head, just slightly.

“Because from where I was sitting,” he adds, softer now, “it looked pretty focused.”

Fuck

He was not about to let this go.

You might as well join in on his game, “I was just trying to figure out what you feel when you watch the security cameras in the apartment.”

…

A beat.

Then, quieter:

“So she was telling the truth.”

“Maybe.” You grab a small piece of chocolate off the table and walk back over to the couch.

“Oh no,” He walks over and steals the chocolate out of your hand, “Say it again. Properly.”

“And what, exactly, would you like me to say, Mr. Drake?”

“Dangerous giving me the ability to choose. How about you fix whatever this mess is-” He gestures to his neck, “And then you tell me everything you liked while you were watching me. Okay?”

Conner Kent:

You’ve seen Conner wear a lot of things.

Most of them stolen.

Some of them borrowed.

Very few of them… intentional.

This?

This is intentional.

“Okay,” you say slowly, eyes dragging over him, “what is this.”

Conner looks down at himself like he’s just remembering what he put on.

“Oh… this? Tim bought it but it was too big. I thought it fit perfectly for tonight's mission.”

You tilt your head, “Oh, and what mission is that, recovering farm boy?”

Conner has ditched his usual leather jacket for a brown one.

Beneath it sits an open flannel and a white t-shirt.

He looks… soft.

Like the kind of boy your mother would just adore.

“Closer than you would think, I gotta stake out in some small town coffee shop. I figured the normal fit would scare people off.”

It would… you would greatly prefer that to… whatever this it.

Because it’s not just the clothes.

It’s the way he’s standing.

Relaxed.

Loose.

Like he knows exactly what he looks like.

Like he’s waiting.

Your eyes flick back up to his face.

He’s already watching you.

Grinning.

There it is.

“You good?” he asks, way too casually.

You cross your arms, trying to recover, “I’m fine.”

“Yeah?” He steps closer. “Because you’ve been staring at me for like—”

He tilts his head, pretending to think.

“-a while.”

You clear your throat, “It’s.. just different is all. I’m trying to get used to it.”

“Really? That wasn’t what your face was telling me.”

You roll your eyes, "That's just how my face looks, dear”

“Sooo,” he laughs, scooches just a little closer to you, “You always look at me like that?”

You scoff, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Not flattering,” he says easily. “Just asking. Unless there’s a reason.”

He starts to lean towards you.

The flannel matches his eyes

His smile shifts.

Okay,” he says, quieter now. “There it is.”

You swallow.

“There what is?”

“That look.”

Another step.

Oh, he’s enjoying this.

You freeze.

…damn it.

He laughs under his breath.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

You duck under his arm, “Okay, I think you're hot. You knew that already.”

He laughs harder this time, “I did, but I wasn’t sure you would like this. Especially enough to be dazed about it.”

“SHUT UP”

He is almost chasing you now, “What is it that you're thinking about so hard in that gorgeous head of yours, huh?”

You mumble something, so quite even Conner can’t hear it.

“Oh it can’t be that bad,” 

The back of your knees hit the bed causing you to flop onto your back.

Con stands above you keeping your legs locked to the mattress.

“I was wondering if that's what you looked like working on the farm.”

He blinks.

Once.

That lands.

“Oh yeah?” he says slowly.

You nod.

“Acting like the love interest in some shittily made hallmark movie that I have watched way too many times.”

This caught him off guard.

But you keep going, “Like you could save me from anything you wanted, and I would let you.”

The grin fades just a little.

Not gone.

But different.

“You know I will always save you if you want me too.”

“Promise?”

“Of course, my heart.”

You smile and pull him on top of you, “Okay, I might need saving then.”

Damian Al-Ghul-Wayne(aged up):

You have an odd relationship with the Wayne family, this is only amplified when you and Damian start dating.

They affectionately call you, “the last case scenario”

You always assumed this was a joke until you receive a call from Alfred asking for your immediate presence at the manor.

A driver shows up the moment after you hang up the phone.

Rationally, you assumed Damian had gotten hurt or was sick.

There is nothing rational about this family.

Bruce Wayne appears and begins pushing you into his room,“Damian wants to go undercover as Ra’s puppet in the League of Assassins. I need you to stop him. I don't care how. I also don’t want to know how you do it. Just stop him.”

The door then slams in your face, you are now locked inside with an impossible task.

You sigh.

“Beloved?”

You turn to the sound of his voice.

Damian stands near the window, already dressed.

Of course he is.

Black pressed to perfection, sword at his side like he’s already made his decision.

You’ve both talked about his past, but you’ve never seen him in the role of ‘prince’

It.. suits him.

Likely more than anything else you have seen him in.

His eyes narrow slightly as they land on you.

“You were not expected,” he says slowly.

A pause.

Then, sharper-

“Father sent you.”

Always straight to the point. Okay then, “He did, he’s worried. If Ras gets you again he’s not going to let you go, Dami.”

Damian scoffs, “They think too little of me.”

You shake your head, “No, if they thought too little of you. They would have let you go.”

Damian’s hands freeze as they move to adjust the gold bangles on his wrists.

You’ve found a window.

“You can’t go,” Your breath catches, “I… can’t let you.”

“You presume much.”

“I know you.” You tilt your head, studying him right back. “You’ve already decided you’re going to do something stupid and noble and incredibly annoying.”

A beat.

His eyes flick

just for a second.

There it is.

“You misunderstand,” Damian says, quieter now. “This is necessary.”

You push off the door and take a step toward him.

“No,” you say softly, “it’s not.”

Damian’s eyes soften for a moment before he grabs your hand and leads you deeper into his room.

“Careful,” he warns.

You don’t stop.

“I’ve never been careful,”

Now you’re close.

Close enough to see the conflict he refuses to name.

Damian snarls, “He knows who you are.”

Oh

This is bigger than you originally thought

Time to change tactics. 

The one thing you have more knowledge on than Damian.

Emotions.

You take a slow breath, forcing your racing thoughts to settle.

Then you look at him.

Really look at him.

The gold at his wrists, the sharp lines of black fabric, the way he holds himself like something untouchable.

Like he already belongs to that world.

It hits you all at once.

He is planning on walking away from you

because of you, some idea of your safety.

Your breath stutters.

“…That’s why you dressed like this.”

Damian stills.

You step closer, slower this time, your eyes tracing over him in a way that makes something shift in his expression.

“You’re not just going undercover,” you murmur. “You’re slipping back into it.”

His jaw tightens. “I have always been this.”

“No,” you shake your head softly. “You were.”

Another step.

Close enough now that you can see the flicker of something uncertain in his eyes.

“You don’t get to look like this,” you continue, quieter, “like you belong to him-”

Your hand lifts before you can stop it, brushing lightly against the gold at his wrist.

“-and expect me to just… let you walk out that door.”

That does it.

His grip tightens as his hand closes around your wrist.

“Beloved,” he warns, lower now, “do not interfere.”

Your heart jumps.

But you don’t pull away.

Instead, you tilt your head, stepping even closer-closing the space completely.

“Or what?” you ask softly.

A beat.

“You’ll leave anyway? I’ll just follow you, you must realize that”

That lands harder than anything else.

You feel it in the way his grip falters just slightly.

So you push.

“You’ll go back to him,” you whisper, eyes locked on his, “looking like this-”

Your fingers trail up, just barely brushing the open line of his collar.

“-and I’m just supposed to be okay with that?”

His breath catches.

There it is.

“I cannot allow-” he starts.

“You don’t have to,” you cut in gently. “I do.”

A pause.

Then, softer-

“I’m not letting you leave like this.”

“You presume you have such authority,” he says quietly, but it lacks bite now.

“Maybe I don’t,” you admit softly. “But I’m still here.”

Something in his expression fractures.

His hand tightens again, sharper this time, as he pulls you into him in one swift motion.

The breath leaves your lungs as your chest meets his.

“Beloved,” he murmurs, low and strained, “you test me.”

You barely have time to respond before his other hand comes up to your jaw, tilting your face toward his with precise, unyielding control.

There’s a pause.

One last chance.

Your fingers curl into the front of his shirt, grounding yourself as you meet his gaze.

That’s all the permission he needs.

The kiss is not gentle.

It’s not rushed either.

It’s deliberate, like everything Damian does, but there’s heat under it, something restrained for far too long finally given space to surface.

His grip on your jaw softens just slightly as he deepens it, pulling you closer instead of holding you still.

You feel the shift.

Not control.

Not entirely.

Something closer to surrender.

Your hand slides up, catching on the gold at his wrist, and that-

that makes him break properly.

His breath stutters against your mouth, and suddenly you’re moving, backwards, until your shoulders meet the nearest surface.

He follows without hesitation.

“No one else,” he says against your lips, quieter now but no less intense.

A statement.

A promise.

A warning.

You don’t know which.

You don’t care.

Your fingers press into his chest, right over his heart, steady and certain.

“Then don’t go,” you whisper.

Damian stills completely.

You feel it, the exact moment the decision is made.

Slowly, his forehead rests against yours.

His grip shifts, no longer restraining, just holding.

“I will not,” he says.