Your Name Was Hope

Operation: Sweet Tooth

It had been a rough night for the Batfamily. Patrol was exhausting, and everyone was in a foul mood. Bruises, exhaustion, and frustration lingered as they entered the manor, ready to crash—until something unexpected caught their attention.

On the kitchen counter sat an assortment of fresh pastries, neatly arranged with a small note beside them:

"Help yourselves. You could all use something sweet after tonight."

Curious (and hungry), they hesitated only a moment before grabbing a bite. Damian took a cookie, Jason opted for a scone, Tim picked up a muffin, and Dick grabbed whatever looked the softest. Bruce, though reluctant at first, eventually took one as well.

Silence fell as they chewed. Then—

“Damn,” Jason muttered, already reaching for another. “This is actually good.”

“‘Actually’?” Tim scoffed, taking another bite of his muffin. “This is amazing.”

“Alfred outdid himself,” Dick added, grinning.

Hearing his name, Alfred entered the kitchen just in time. “I’m pleased you enjoyed them, Master Richard, though I’m afraid I cannot take credit.”

The family blinked.

“…Then who did?” Bruce asked.

Alfred gave a knowing smile. “That would be Miss (Y/N). I’ve been giving her lessons while you lot are out on patrol.”

A beat of silence.

“You mean our (Y/N)?” Damian asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

“The one who can barely make toast without setting off the fire alarm?” Tim added in disbelief.

Alfred merely nodded, and the brothers exchanged glances before looking at the pastries with renewed appreciation.

Jason smirked. “So what you’re saying is, if we ask nicely, she might make more?”

And that was how you found yourself suddenly bombarded with requests for sweets—Jason asking for scones, Tim dropping hints about coffee cake, Dick attempting the puppy-dog eyes for more cookies, and even Damian begrudgingly requesting a specific type of tart.

Bruce didn’t say anything, but the way he took an extra muffin the next morning spoke volumes.

Alfred, of course, just sipped his tea with a knowing smile.

someone give me ideas on what to write about.

perferablye not Alpha!Jason but if that is what you want, then I'll write it.

I just need ideas on what to write about.

Burnt Bridges

(Dabi x Villain!Reader)

The first time Dabi left, it wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic. There were no explosive confrontations or sudden betrayals. It was just an absence that spread like a poison, slowly creeping through the air. You should have seen it coming, really. The signs were there, even if you didn’t want to acknowledge them. But you didn’t expect him to just leave.

He didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t give you any warning. He just... vanished.

You had been partners in crime, partners in everything. Destruction. Chaos. He was fire, and you were the wind that fueled it. But now, in the wake of his absence, you felt like an ember, flickering in the cold.

You’d come back from a mission, bruised and bloodied as usual, but the familiar warmth of his presence wasn’t there to greet you. His side of the room was empty, the bed unmade. No smirk, no flame, no Dabi.

You should have been used to it, but you weren’t. The hole he left was jagged, painful, and the silence rang louder than any explosion you had ever caused. The night he left, you tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter. That you didn’t need him. You had always been able to go it alone before.

But this wasn’t the same.

You spent days — no, weeks — trying to drown out the void he’d left. You threw yourself into missions, into villain work, into destruction. But each kill, each robbery, each confrontation felt hollow. Something was missing. Someone was missing.

And it wasn’t just anyone. It was him.

You hated the way you couldn’t get him out of your mind, the way you felt like a part of you had been ripped away. And the anger? It burned inside you like an open wound. He had left you without so much as a word. No explanation, no apology. He just left. It wasn’t like Dabi to be this cold, this distant. But maybe he’d always been that way, and you’d just never realized it.

-------------------------------Time Skip------------------------------------

You didn’t expect to see him again. Not after everything. Not after he left without a trace, without a single word.

But there he was, standing at the center of the chaos, his flames dancing like an inferno, scorching everything in his path. He didn’t even look at you at first. Not until the smoke cleared, and you saw him standing there — taller, colder, more controlled than you remembered.

He was a walking blaze, but the heat was different now. It wasn’t the wild, unpredictable fire that used to send shivers of excitement down your spine. It was something calculated. Detached.

And that’s when it hit you. He hadn’t just left. He had changed. His flames weren’t the same, but neither were you.

The battle raged on, but you didn’t care about the heroes. You didn’t care about the villains. Your eyes were fixed on him, and the anger inside you bubbled over.

“You just left,” you spat as you approached him, the words sharp and filled with venom. “Without a word, without a fucking reason. You just left.”

Dabi’s expression was unreadable. His eyes, once filled with fire and intensity, were now cold, like nothing could touch him. It was like he was a different person altogether.

“I don’t owe you anything,” he muttered, his voice like gravel.

“No,” you shot back, your fists clenching. “You don’t owe me anything, but that doesn’t mean I won’t make you owe me an explanation.”

You didn’t wait for him to respond, didn’t care if he wanted to fight or talk. You were done holding back. You were done pretending. His absence had carved deep scars inside you, and now you were going to burn everything down until he understood the weight of his silence.

-------------------------------Time Skip------------------------------------

The city was ablaze, but nothing compared to the fire inside you. You fought like an animal, driven by rage. Every punch you threw, every villain you took down, was a piece of the anger you couldn’t contain.

But the heat of the flames was different now. Even Dabi’s fiery presence was no longer enough to soothe the wound he’d left behind.

After the battle, you stood alone in the remnants of the wreckage. The sound of distant sirens was like a mocking reminder of everything you had lost. Everything he had taken. You didn’t know why you stayed here. Why you didn’t walk away.

Maybe it was the lingering hope that he’d finally talk to you. But after everything, you weren’t sure what you expected.

“Why the hell did you leave?” you demanded, your voice shaking with barely-contained fury.

Dabi didn’t respond right away. His eyes were cold, focused on the destruction around you. But then, finally, his gaze flicked to you. His lips curled into a thin, bitter smile.

“I didn’t think you’d care,” he said, his voice distant, almost disinterested.

The words hit you like a slap. You didn’t expect him to apologize. You didn’t expect him to beg for forgiveness. But this? This was worse. The indifference in his tone, the way he dismissed you as if you didn’t matter, as if you were just another part of his past he could burn away… It was more than you could handle.

“You think I didn’t care?” Your chest tightened, the anger threatening to swallow you whole. “You think I don’t care that you left me without even telling me? Without any warning, without any explanation?” Your voice rose, the fury in your words making the air around you crackle. “You’re a fucking coward, Dabi. A coward who ran when things got hard. You always leave when it gets too real. And I’m sick of it.”

He stepped forward, his gaze unwavering, the flames flickering at his side, but there was no emotion behind them. “I didn’t ask you to stay. You’re here because you chose to be.”

“And now I regret it,” you hissed, taking a step back, the fire in your eyes not matching the coldness in his. “You’re not the same, Dabi. You’re just a ghost. And I’m done chasing after you.”

For a moment, the world seemed to freeze. There was no sound, no movement, just the two of you — separated by everything that had come between you.

Then, without another word, you turned away, leaving him standing in the flames.

Cabin Quiet, Cabin Warm

Logan Howlett X GN!Reaer (same concept as the first one, different setting. couldn't decide between the two and wrote both)

Your birthday started with silence.

Not the uncomfortable kind—but the warm, heavy quiet that only exists deep in the woods, tucked inside a log cabin miles away from civilization.

You blinked awake to the scent of pine and coffee. The old wool blanket draped over you smelled faintly of cedar, and morning light slanted through the frosted windows, casting soft gold across the room.

It took a moment to remember where you were.

Logan’s cabin.

He’d invited you a week ago, grumbling something vague about “needing space” and “you could tag along if you wanted.” You weren’t sure if it was a real invitation or just his way of being polite—but you said yes anyway.

Now, sitting up slowly on the worn leather couch, you saw a folded piece of paper waiting to be opened on the side table. On the front of the folded paper is your name and writtin inside it in Logan’s handwriting, scrawled and slightly messy:

Mornin'. Firewood’s stacked. Coffee’s hot. Go outside. Wear boots.

You stared at it, then glanced toward the door. Snow had dusted the world white overnight, but you could see faint footprints in the fresh powder.

With a curious tug of your jacket and some thick socks stuffed into boots, you followed the tracks out behind the cabin.

There, near the tree line, Logan stood beside a hand-built picnic table. On it was a rough wooden box with a red ribbon—slightly wrinkled, like he didn’t know how to tie it properly. Two mismatched mugs sat on either side of a tin plate stacked with pancakes.

You stared.

He didn’t look at you at first. Just took a slow sip from his mug, eyes on the trees.

“…Ain’t much,” he muttered. “But I figured you deserved a quiet birthday.”

Your chest tightened.

“This is…” You stepped closer, voice soft, “...more than enough.”

He finally glanced at you, his usual gruff expression softened just a touch. “I don’t do parties. Figured you might not like ‘em either.”

You shook your head. “No. This? This is perfect.”

You sat beside him, and he slid the box toward you. “Made that. Don’t laugh.”

You opened it carefully—and inside was a hand-carved wooden pendant shaped like a pinecone. Simple, smooth, and surprisingly detailed.

“I didn’t know you could carve.”

“I didn’t,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Learned for this.”

The air between you went still. But it wasn’t awkward.

It was full.

You reached across the table, covering his hand with yours. “Thank you, Logan.”

He looked at you like he didn’t quite know what to say. So instead, he just nodded and murmured, “Happy birthday, kid.”

Caffine and Capes

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Hal Jordan (Batlantern) Setting: Cozy café, followed by a walk in the park Tone: Soft Fluff

The café was small and cozy, tucked away on a quiet street in Gotham. The air smelled like freshly ground coffee and something faintly sweet, like cinnamon. A soft jazz tune played in the background, mixing with the chatter of the few patrons.

Bruce sat at a corner table, his usual sharpness dulled by the warm lighting and comforting atmosphere. His coffee sat in front of him, but he wasn’t drinking it. Instead, he was watching Hal, who seemed entirely too excited for a simple trip to a café.

“This place smells like... joy,” Hal said, eyes wide as he looked around. “I’m convinced coffee beans are secretly happiness in disguise.”

Bruce didn’t smile, but there was the tiniest flicker of amusement in his eyes. “You sure it’s not the sugar?”

Hal leaned forward with a smirk. “Maybe a little bit of both.”

Bruce reached for his cup, taking a sip, and Hal watched him, eyes narrowing playfully. “You’re really quiet today.”

Bruce sighed. “I’m not quiet. I’m... contemplative.”

Hal snorted, causing Bruce to give him an unamused look. “I’ll take that as ‘yes, you’re quiet.’”

“Well,” Bruce said, glancing out the window at the soft drizzle of rain that had started outside, “I didn’t think you’d be so... enthusiastic about coffee. You’re usually more into explosions and flashy things.”

“Coffee’s a simple pleasure,” Hal replied, leaning back in his chair. “Besides, it’s a good break from all the chaos. I don’t need fireworks to enjoy something.”

Bruce’s gaze softened slightly. He hadn’t expected Hal to be so... well, normal. In the middle of Gotham, in a café with soft lighting and jazz, Bruce felt a kind of peace that didn’t come often.

After a few moments, Hal was up and pulling his jacket on. “So, I know you’re Mr. Nighttime—“

“Don’t.”

“—But how about we take a walk through the park?” Hal finished, ignoring the glare. “There’s a park not far from here. I promise, no giant green robots or alien invasions.”

Bruce gave him a flat look. “You really think that’s going to convince me?”

Hal just smiled, mischief twinkling in his eyes. “I’m betting on the fact that you’re curious enough to see what a normal date looks like.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching toward a smirk. “Alright. Lead the way.”

The park was quiet, the path lit by soft streetlamps that shimmered in the rain. They walked side by side, the occasional raindrop catching in the dark strands of Hal’s hair. There was a certain ease in the air, despite the world’s usual chaos swirling around them.

Hal kicked a few leaves up, glancing at Bruce. “You know, I’ve always imagined Gotham as... darker. More gloomy. But this place... it’s peaceful.”

Bruce nodded, his gaze on the path ahead. “Sometimes you need a reminder that there’s more to a city than crime.”

Hal glanced at him, and for the first time in what felt like ages, Bruce let his guard slip just a little. He didn’t have to be Batman right now. He could just be... Bruce.

“You know,” Hal began, looking up at the rain-soaked trees, “this is nice. Just... us. No Green Lanterns or Bat-families. No big city problems.”

Bruce turned his head, watching Hal with a rare, genuine smile that seemed to soften the edges of his face.

“I’m glad you think so,” Bruce said quietly. “It’s been a while since I’ve just... walked.”

They continued on in silence for a while, the sound of footsteps mixing with the gentle rustle of leaves in the rain. When they reached a bench near the center of the park, Hal gestured for Bruce to sit.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be so...” Hal trailed off, unsure how to finish his sentence.

“Normal?” Bruce suggested, taking a seat. “Yeah. I’m good at hiding it.”

“Sometimes it’s hard to see past the cape and cowl,” Hal said softly. “But I think I like this version of you.”

Bruce met his gaze, his voice a little quieter than usual. “I think I do too.”

Hal’s hand rested on the bench beside Bruce’s, fingers almost brushing. Bruce looked down for a moment, then subtly shifted his hand so it was resting just an inch from Hal’s.

“I guess we’re both full of surprises,” Bruce said, his lips quirking in the slightest smile.

Hal chuckled, looking down at their hands. “You have no idea.”

The rain fell a little harder now, but neither of them moved to leave. Instead, they sat there, quietly sharing a moment that was simple — but in its own way, exactly what they needed.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is for @witherby I'M RATTING YOU OUT. You guys should definitely check out their writing, it's awesome!!

Sinc so many people seem to like my ABO Jason Todd fic and Batfam fic, should I make more of them?

Hello ! Could you write a story about a Bruce become infant ? And the children take care of him please ! Have a good day 🥰

Title: “Batbaby”

Summary: When a mission goes sideways, Bruce Wayne is temporarily de-aged into a toddler. The Batkids are not prepared.

The mission had been simple.

In, secure the artifact, out. But when Zatanna warned them not to touch the glowing runes? Bruce touched the glowing runes.

Now he was sitting in the Batcave. All three feet of him. Arms crossed. Little scowl on his tiny face. Wearing an emergency Wayne Enterprises onesie because none of them had toddler clothes on standby.

Damian stared at him, horrified. “He’s... small.”

Tim was trying not to laugh. “He’s tiny, you mean. That’s Baby Batman.”

“I am not a baby,” Bruce snapped—except it came out in a high-pitched voice and a pout that ruined the effect.

Jason collapsed on the couch, cackling. “This is the best day of my life.”

“I still have my mind,” Bruce insisted, glaring at his now-gigantic children. “This is temporary. I’m still in charge.”

Dick crouched beside him with a smile. “Sure, sure. You’re totally the boss. But until Zatanna finds the reversal spell? You’re three, B.”

“I’m three and a half,” Bruce corrected sharply.

Damian groaned. “He’s regressing by the second.”

Hour One:

Bruce tried to sit at the Batcomputer. Couldn’t reach the keyboard. Sulked for ten minutes straight.

Tim gave him juice in a sippy cup. Bruce threw it at him. Missed. Demanded coffee. Was denied.

Jason tried teaching him to say “Red Hood.” Bruce said “Red Head.” Jason didn't even mind.

Hour Four:

Dick had wrapped Bruce in a little hoodie with bat ears and was carrying him around on his hip like a dad at a farmer’s market.

Bruce was not happy about it.

“This is humiliating,” he grumbled into Dick’s shoulder.

“Aw, you’re doing so good, buddy,” Dick cooed, bouncing him slightly.

“Put me down or I will fire you.”

“You don’t even pay me.”

Hour Six:

Bruce fell asleep on Alfred’s lap during story time. The book was about logistics. No one was surprised.

Damian stood nearby, arms crossed. “I... don’t hate him like this.”

Tim nodded. “It’s kind of peaceful. He’s only barked two orders since nap time.”

Jason took a picture. “He’s gonna murder us when he’s back to normal.”

Dick just smiled, tucking a baby blanket around Bruce. “Worth it.”

The next morning, the spell wore off. Bruce returned to normal. Full height. Full grump.

No one said anything.

Until Jason walked into the Cave wearing a shirt with Baby Bruce’s face on it.

Bruce stared.

Jason grinned. “I made merch.”

Bruce walked away.

“You can’t fire me if I don’t work here!”

...

Oh. my. everything!!!!

I just got around to reading chapter 2 (was my b-day yesterday, so I've been busy :]), and I love it!!!

Seeing Croc as a mentor wasn't what I expected, but I love that so much!! Him, and probably Harley would be the ones who would have been the best mentors out of the rouges gallery. Imo at least

Now that just makes me think of what Duck's relation is with all the villains. Ofc, Joker can go die in a ditch, but like, would Harley and Ivy be like, aunties towards Duck? Or at least friendly on the most part?

I'm sure Selena would be, considering they've got a cat themselves!

I just imagine, that Duck is like, the only one Croc tolerates being near, or accidentally touching him, after they've known each other for a long while.

Keep up the amazing work! And remember to hydrate! <3 <3

- 🐇

BUNNY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! HOPE IT WAS A GOOD DAY!

I DON'T THINK YOU UNDERSTAND WHEN I SAY YOU'VE READ MY MIND. I HAVE A LIST OF HOW THE VILLIANS WOULD TREAT DUCK.

If you want that list, I can and will post it, much like the Batfam list.

I would have to say that Croc, Ivy, Harley, and Selina were probably the main 4 to teach Duck the ways, with the others teaching Duck every once in awhile but none of them where ever mean!

I can tell you this, the rouges all fucking love Duck would do anything for them!

They see someone hurting Duck badly in a fight? They are on the person's ass in 0.5 seconds.

Also, Selina was def the one that gifted Duck their cat once they became their own villain. I could see Ivy giving them some plants that don't need much taking care of while Harley would gift them some weapons or a book on how to analyze people.

Croc would probably just give them a pat on the back or something and say "proud of you" but is their biggest supporter. Duck can go to him, or anyone else, for help or for anything really.

Also, side note, AUTOCORRECT KEPT CHANGING DUCK TO FUCK SO IF I MISSED ONE, LET ME KNOW. 😭

abo au with alpha Jason as our mate?

Safe in His Scent

Alpha Jason Todd x Reader

The scent of gunpowder and leather wrapped around you before you even saw him. Jason was near—closer than usual. Your instincts prickled at the awareness of your mate’s presence, your Omega side naturally attuned to him even when he wasn’t trying to be noticeable.

You didn’t turn immediately. You kept your hands busy, finishing up in the small kitchen of your apartment. Jason always had a habit of watching you before announcing himself, his predatory instincts at odds with his soft spot for you.

“I know you’re there,” you finally said, glancing over your shoulder.

Jason leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, his usual scowl softened just enough to be noticeable. “Didn’t want to startle you.”

You rolled your eyes, setting down a plate. “Like I wouldn’t know when you’re around.”

His lips quirked up, the ghost of a smile. “Fair point.”

He took a few slow steps inside, his presence commanding, the heat of his body warming the room without him even touching you. Your Omega instincts wanted to lean into it, to let him close that distance, but you held your ground. You and Jason… things were complicated.

He wasn’t like other Alphas—possessive, territorial, demanding. He was protective, sure, but he gave you space. Too much space, sometimes.

“Rough night?” you asked, noting the slight tension in his shoulders.

Jason sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “Yeah. Got into it with some assholes in Crime Alley.”

Your heart clenched. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

He smirked, stepping closer, finally within reach. “Worried about me, Omega?”

You huffed, smacking his arm lightly. “Of course I am, dumbass.”

Jason’s amusement faded slightly, something more serious settling in his expression. His hand lifted, fingers brushing your wrist—gentle, careful. Your pulse jumped at the small touch, your scent sweetening in response. He noticed, of course he did, and his pupils darkened slightly.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” he murmured. “I can handle myself.”

“I know that,” you said softly, fingers curling slightly as if to hold onto that touch. “Doesn’t mean I stop caring.”

Jason’s jaw tightened, his grip on your wrist shifting, thumb brushing slow, soothing circles against your skin. “You’re too good for this city,” he muttered. “Too good for me.”

You frowned. “That’s not for you to decide.”

A muscle in his jaw jumped, but he didn’t argue. He never did when it came to you. Instead, he sighed and let his forehead rest lightly against yours, the warmth of him seeping into your skin. Your scent mingled, familiar and right, and for the first time that night, Jason seemed to relax.

“You smell good,” he admitted, voice lower, rougher. “Like home.”

Your heart thudded, warmth blooming in your chest. “So do you.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against you. “Yeah?”

You nodded, pressing your nose lightly against his collar. “Yeah.”

For now, that was enough.

I-

I was not expecting my Batfam one-shot fic to gain the likes it currently has, and still getting

Thank you???