𝕶𝖗𝖝𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖆𝖓

| 24 | superbat addict | ao3 |

[krxs-tian]

Peter took the remaining steps. Jason straightened to give him space. He slid onto the back of the seat, keeping contact to a minimum as he reached behind himself to hold on. This was far from his first time on a motorcycle, so he knew perfectly well that this posture wasn’t ideal, considering his arm wasn’t a reliable source of strength right now.

But wrapping his arms around Jason?

God. That felt far too intimate.

He was already flushed enough without adding that to the list.

“You don’t mind… that I, you know, see where you live?”

There was no helmet involved. Jason hadn’t put one on, and he hadn’t offered Peter one when he turned the engine over. He tilted his head to look at him.

“At this point?” He actually seemed to think about it before adding, “I think it’s fair. Aren’t you going to hold on?”

Peter swallowed hard. “I’m fine.”

Jason shrugged, released the clutch, and faced forward again.

Peter’s stubbornness lasted until Jason actually started the motorcycle. The sudden drop of balance and the instinctive fear of falling made Peter pitch forward immediately, wrapping his arms around Jason’s firm, solid waist. His cheek pressed into Jason’s back, and he tightened his grip.

They hadn’t gone more than a block when Jason stopped, and Peter heard him groan.

“Easy,” Jason said, glancing back. Peter lifted his head a fraction, his heart threatening to leap out of his chest. “If you could hold a little higher, over my ribs…”

Oh. Right. The ribs. They must still be sore.

So when Jason spoke—slow, careful, almost embarrassed—Peter relaxed and slid his hands up to his chest.

He didn’t know whether it was his imagination or just a fleeting sensation, but it felt like they stayed like that far longer than necessary. Long enough, really. Long enough for Peter to notice the bike’s trembling roar between his thighs, the overwhelming heat in his chest from the friction against Jason’s back, his own faint shiver, the sting of fabric against his burn and, right beneath his palm, a hot, frantic drumming of skin that felt far too much like Jason’s heart completely out of control.

“Sure,” Peter whispered, delayed, because none of this made any sense.

“Better,” Jason said right after, focusing on the road ahead.

✧⁠*⁠。

Fic: You'll Only Get One Shot by Krxstian (on AO3).

Commission: @/lenlen.dw (IG)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/73552226/

[krxs-tian]

Hiiiii I’m absolutely loving your fic ab spideyhood!!! You write is so beautifully I’m afraid I’ll have to eat it😔 Anyways ❤️❤️💛💛❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

My goodness, I can't believe I didn't see this message before!

All I can say is thank you! I really put a lot of love into this fic, I strive every day to improve my writing and understand Peter and Jason more deeply. I'm thrilled to hear that you gave it a chance and ended up liking it so much!!! Don't worry, there are plenty more chapters to come :DDd

[krxs-tian]

Peter took the remaining steps. Jason straightened to give him space. He slid onto the back of the seat, keeping contact to a minimum as he reached behind himself to hold on. This was far from his first time on a motorcycle, so he knew perfectly well that this posture wasn’t ideal, considering his arm wasn’t a reliable source of strength right now.

But wrapping his arms around Jason?

God. That felt far too intimate.

He was already flushed enough without adding that to the list.

“You don’t mind… that I, you know, see where you live?”

There was no helmet involved. Jason hadn’t put one on, and he hadn’t offered Peter one when he turned the engine over. He tilted his head to look at him.

“At this point?” He actually seemed to think about it before adding, “I think it’s fair. Aren’t you going to hold on?”

Peter swallowed hard. “I’m fine.”

Jason shrugged, released the clutch, and faced forward again.

Peter’s stubbornness lasted until Jason actually started the motorcycle. The sudden drop of balance and the instinctive fear of falling made Peter pitch forward immediately, wrapping his arms around Jason’s firm, solid waist. His cheek pressed into Jason’s back, and he tightened his grip.

They hadn’t gone more than a block when Jason stopped, and Peter heard him groan.

“Easy,” Jason said, glancing back. Peter lifted his head a fraction, his heart threatening to leap out of his chest. “If you could hold a little higher, over my ribs…”

Oh. Right. The ribs. They must still be sore.

So when Jason spoke—slow, careful, almost embarrassed—Peter relaxed and slid his hands up to his chest.

He didn’t know whether it was his imagination or just a fleeting sensation, but it felt like they stayed like that far longer than necessary. Long enough, really. Long enough for Peter to notice the bike’s trembling roar between his thighs, the overwhelming heat in his chest from the friction against Jason’s back, his own faint shiver, the sting of fabric against his burn and, right beneath his palm, a hot, frantic drumming of skin that felt far too much like Jason’s heart completely out of control.

“Sure,” Peter whispered, delayed, because none of this made any sense.

“Better,” Jason said right after, focusing on the road ahead.

✧⁠*⁠。

Fic: You'll Only Get One Shot by Krxstian (on AO3).

Commission: @/lenlen.dw (IG)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/73552226/

[krxs-tian]

Thud. Thud.

Hard to define, hard to memorize, but he could never forget its rhythm. The way Damian’s blood warmed just slightly when he fought, yet his heart stayed calm.

Thud.

In his gray and red Robin suit, Damian stood in front of him doing nothing but watching him fight for air. For Jon, that was enough—but for his heart, it was an excuse. His trembling hand rose from his chest, afraid of shattering, and found its place at Damian’s neck. He brushed the hair at the nape with his fingertips until Damian leaned down just slightly, giving silent permission. He didn’t resist when Jon used that grip to gently pull him closer and leaned in to kiss him: shaky, slow.

Rain-soaked faces, the scent of wet air, droplets sliding down and slipping between the brush of their noses.

Fanart by: @/lenlen.dw on Instagram.

Fic: Storm and Rough Edges by Krxstian on AO3.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/76094816

♡

[krxs-tian]

Desperate, Bruce tried to peel reality away from sensation, but all he felt were claws tearing open his chest. He braced himself against a wall with both hands, unable to stop the burning, as raw as if he’d been flayed alive. Every tremor, every shift of the air stung like knives on raw flesh. He forced breath into his lungs, shallow, ragged. His nails tore the paint, then dug into the fabric of the shirt he had just pulled over himself, clutching at it as if it might keep him from falling apart completely.

Something shifted. Heat, motion at the edge of his vision. A weight pressed into his shoulder, too strong, almost painful.

“Bruce.” The voice came distant at first, closer the second time: “Bruce!”

He lifted his head, just enough awareness left to see Clark.

Clark was here.

“Breathe.”

He couldn’t. If he did, everything would break loose with the pressure in his throat. He had to hold it, keep it locked down, repress it until it suffocated back inside him.

“I’m here,” Clark’s hands were warm against his face. “Please, Bruce, breathe.”

He couldn’t. But Clark sounded desperate, and the pressure on his throat only grew, sharp as a collar of knives. Something rose inside him, hot, searing, tearing its way up his chest, his lungs, his throat.

“Please.”

And then Clark pulled him into an embrace, and Bruce couldn’t fight it anymore. There was nothing that could stop it. He resisted, tried to push him away, but Clark held steady, solid and unbearably warm. And Bruce broke.

He clutched at the cape, his fists knotted in it, burying his face into Clark’s chest as everything ripped out of him all at once. He sobbed and growled, his face wet.

Once the first tears fell, there was no stopping the rest. He tried again and again to contain it, but every attempt only made it worse. His chest burned as if filled with a million shards, as if someone were strangling him from the inside, and the sobs only deepened, crippling him.

He wanted to scream, and maybe he did. He wanted to run, but instead clung harder to Clark, because his warmth was the only thing that felt real, the only anchor in the middle of pain and emptiness tearing him apart.

“He’ll be okay,” Clark whispered again and again, and sometimes Bruce heard something else: “You’ll be okay.”

Fic: Cold Strategy, Warm Heart by Krxstian on AO3.

Artist @/bananita._stay on Instagram

[krxs-tian]

The artist I commissioned just sent me a preview of how it’s coming along and I honestly can’t handle it—I swear I’m bursting with excitement for when it’s FINISHED.

Artist: @/bananita._stay on Instagram.

Fic: "Cold Strategy, Warm Heart" by Krxstian (AO3).

[krxs-tian]

Chapters when you don't write sex/Chapters when you do.

[krxs-tian]

My birthday was recently. I still can't believe I got a woven Superman tote bag.

[krxs-tian]

Hi! It's @Oliver_TheWise from ao3 :) Congrats on getting tumblr! I love scrolling through my dash to see all the delicious superbat art X3

I loved chapter six of Cold Strategy, Warm Heart! It's so good to see Bruce finally letting himself go to Clark (though maybe with some reluctance...), and Clark acting like a total teenage girl about it

Also- I love all the Clark + Damian interactions so far. I like to think that at some point in Clark and Bruce's relationship, Bruce's kids start to see Clark as a father figure and treat him as such. Thoughts?

OHHH, HIII. It’s so great to see you here, THANK YOU FOR MENTIONING TUMBLR. I swear that now I spend every little bit of free time looking at the BEAUTIFUL and DELICIOUS SuperBat fanarts. It’s such an AMAZING experience.

Now, about your question—I have kind of a weird take on it. Let’s start with Dick: I honestly think Dick sees both Batman and Superman as father figures (I mean, Clark literally gave him the Nightwing name, he goes to them for advice, and for the longest time both Bruce and Clark were super present in Dick’s growth from Robin into adulthood). Same with Damian, around the time he and Jon got introduced, Batman and Superman’s relationship was way more stable (there’s a reason Supersons exists). And like… Damian and Jon were super close from really young ages, so it feels natural that Damian would start seeing Superman as some kind of mentor/guide figure.

Jason and Tim are a whole other case. Jason because of… well, everything (dying and coming back as an antihero is a lot), and Tim because of how he was brought into the family. I feel like both of them would (or do) have a closer bond with the Batfam itself but not as much with Superman. (In Cold Strategy, Warm Heart, Tim does end up seeing Superman more because his boyfriend is Kon and Kon gets along really well with Clark). Jason though… with his personality I just can’t see him seeing Superman as anything other than admirable. So yeah—for me, Tim and Jason would admire Clark, but not really view him as a “dad” figure.

That’s kinda my whole thought process on it, and what I’ve been trying to work into the story as best as I can. Personally, my favorite relationship is Dick-Clark because I feel like they share a very sweet, trusting, paternal kind of friendship. Like, when things go wrong, the first person Dick vents to is Clark :).

Anyway, I’m SO glad you enjoyed the last chapter. Honestly, Clark acting like a giddy teenager feels 100% CANON to me—especially because Clark was never someone who had lots of relationships. So now, as an adult, he’d be EXTRA HYPED that Bruce is actually reciprocating ("reciprocating" might be a strong word but you know what I mean). And honestly every time I write Clark I just picture this giant golden retriever talking to a black cat who is absolutely DONE but still stays to listen JALSJSLSJSKS.

I really loved your question, sorry for the thesis ANNNNND thank you so much for reading!!! ✨🫂

[krxs-tian]

I fucking love writing Superbat 🫠