What Kind Of Requests Are You Taking?

What kind of requests are you taking?

YOU KNOW IDK when tf I got this ask i am so sorry jesus christ 😅 anyway, anything except incest and smut :)

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Babybird Part Two (Batmom Reader)

Momma is home and she is angry. Reader’s superhero name in Whitehawk. Enjoy. I love feedback.

There was a drastic change in the winds from the desert to Gotham city- the most notable being that Gotham’s wind was bitter and tasted of salt, and the winds of the desert were hot and dusty. You found that you didn’t particularly care for either as you hid your face in the high collar of the thick winter coat you had slipped on. Unfortunately, there were many places you would rather be than the city or the desert for that matter, but Gotham was where duty called- where your emotions told you to go, and with the loss of your son so fresh, you couldn’t bear to ignore how you felt.

Despite it being well past midnight, there were still handfuls of people pushing their way between others, weaving in between cars and buildings, and hailing taxis. Though the sheer amount of people walking far too slow was insufferable, you were grateful that the crowds of people gave you something to blend into. Something to hide in. As you shuffled amongst the groups of Gothamites, you were simply a citizen, not someone who was supposed to protect the masses.

You slipped into the bar you had been searching for, immediately bright neon green and blue lights leaked into your vision, giving you pause. When the interior of the bar became visible to you, the search for the man that brought you there in the first place began. Pushing past the drunks, half-naked women and men, and waiters, there was suddenly a pull on your hips, to which you quickly glanced down, ready to slap a hand away, but it was merely a red velvet rope. You had reached the back of the bar. A shout came from the left of you, capturing your attention rather rudely- but what else could you expect from a place like the one you found yourself in.

The man who had yelled stood well over six foot, and his suit hugged tightly to his broad shoulders, the sleek pistol in his pocket glistened in the dim lights of the room. Surely, most would be intimidated by a man such as that, but you found his presences merely an annoyance. A dog sent to retrieve you? You scoffed but had no choice but to trail after the man, heels stomping on the ground loudly.

The guard came to a stop in front of dark green curtains that concealed the meeting room, refusing to enter, much to your satisfaction. Shoving aside the material, your nose scrunched up at the smell of cigars. A burning sensation that left your eyes watering slightly, and throat covered in a dissatisfying taste. The man, short and pale, sat slouched in his extravagant chair, embroidered with lavish looking jewels, and lace. It was a shame that such a lovely piece of furniture was in the hands of such a vile man.

“Such a rarity,” the Penguin squeaked, “that a Bird comes willingly into my cage.” Indeed it was, you supposed, but you were desperate. “It is bold, my girl,” he said in a groan. You weren’t fond of being mocked, but there was no time, and this was no place, to mouth off with the indignant man. You took a seat in a much more dull chair beside him, elbows placed on the table with your chin in your palm.

“I will transfer the money, and you give me the information, that was the deal, correct?” you said, wanting to get out of the wretched bar as soon as you could, even if that meant skipping over the details. Cobblepot hummed, inhaling through the cigar he held between his red-stained fingers.

Before you had thought of entering the bar in the first place, you had sent a letter, proposing the money for the information you desired. Weeks later, you received a letter in return- he had accepted if you agreed to meet with him. And there you sat, a frown gracing your lips.

“To the point? Well, do you not know any better?” he said, leaning back. You did, but you had to move fast before the information went stale.

“Actually I do, so if I were you, I’d be careful,” you said hotly. You were in a hurry, not stupid. Smarter than the man you sat next to, but not to underestimate him either- he was anything but an idiot. The man laughed bitterly.

“The money?” he inquired, an eyebrow raised. You rolled your eyes, rummaging through the coat pocket for your phone, where you then confirmed the transfer. You showed the old man the information quickly, before shoving the phone back into its previous place. Penguin nodded quietly.

You waited for him to speak, a hand clenching the wooden side of the table. More smoke poured from his mouth, the smell harsh.

“The Blackbrick factory filled to the brim with his...goons. Maybe the blonde was there with him, I don’t frankly care. He looked mad as ever, stupid as well. No idea what the fool was up to, but it seems to me that you don’t care about that. What do you care so much about?” Penguin said, a dark eyebrow raised. He was crossing a line, and beyond that line were things you didn’t wish to discuss- especially with Oswald. When no further words were exchanged, he continued. “Who knows when he will move again if he even will. But the man is erratic, and the Big Bat seems- lazy. As of late. Good for me, not for you. And whatever you are planning on doing tonight, I sincerely hope it ends with the Joker disappearing for good.” And with that, you began the trek to Blackbrick factory.

It was hard to see from your vantage point in the rafters of the factory, but it would have to make due. There was a surprising lack of hiding places to take cover in the building and an absurd amount of thugs that wore masks similar to the clown himself. Cocky, you thought, he had done no such thing before you had left the city. Apparently Batman’s lack of attention as of late upset Joker.

The man, face painted white, marched across his makeshift stage, above the mass of thugs. He was wailing about something hysterically, none of which you could hear, and you didn’t particularly want to. His voice brought a growl out from the back of your throat. Harley stood behind him, her finger twirling in a blonde curl, a laugh of her own echoing off the stone walls. You stared intently at the two, like an animal hunting its prey. But your attention was quickly brought upward, to the opposite end of the room from where you were, on a separate vantage point.

Yellow, green, and red. Those were the colors that you saw that were so incredibly familiar, and painful. For what felt like an unreasonable amount of time, you couldn’t breathe. The air refusing to come out of your lungs, distracting you from the burning at your eyes. A pounding feeling at your chest and weak muscles came over you and weren’t sure if it was from the lack of oxygen or the feeling of utter despair. It couldn’t be. He was gone.

The colors moved in flashes as the small figure swung about the room. Closer and closer to you until he rammed directly into you, distracted by the thugs that were becoming rowdy, and excited by the words of the Joker. Before you could think about what you were doing, you grabbed the person roughly and proceeded to grapple back out of the factory- forgetting about what you had gone there to do. The child, you guessed from the sound of his voice, struggled against you, and eventually wiggled out of your hold, but you were already on the roof, away from the thugs.

You stared at him, eyes scanning over his suit- his Robin suit. He was small, but not as small as Dick and your son had been. It wasn’t hard to be larger than Jason, anyway, the boy had been malnourished his whole life.  He was older, maybe thirteen. Fourteen. The usual Robin age. As you stared at him, and he stared back wordlessly, your blood began to boil all over again. Not at the boy, but at the man you knew was responsible for him. Another one? Another child brought into the fight? Had he learned absolutely nothing? You wanted to scream but that would have brought unwanted attention. You had been so involved in your own thoughts you barely heard the words Robin spoke to you.

“A-are you, Whitehawk?” he said, voice unsteady. You relaxed the stare when you realized he was scared. You nodded. You wore your old suit that had been used back in the days of fighting alongside Batman. It had long since been retired, as you gave up crimefighting a year before you met Jason. The occasion called for a proper suit, however. But now you figured you weren’t going to get to use it. The boy's eyes visibly widened under his mask.

“Wait, you’re back? When did you get home?” he spoke to you as if he knew you. Naive. Bold. Young. You decided to humor the boy.

“A few hours ago, but I am not staying,” you said, and he frowned. He sat on the corner of the roof, peering through a broken window as to not lose track of the Joker.

“That sucks. We could use help here, with Batgirl and all,” he said, trailing off. You cocked your head to the side.

“What about Batgirl?” You inquired.

“Can’t be Batgirl in a wheelchair. She is Oracle though, and that’s cool.” Robin said. For the second time that night, the air got caught in your throat.

“What?” You choked out, hands balled into fists. Things only get worse in Gotham, you thought grimly. Robin glanced up at you, now his confusion mirroring yours.

“You don’t know? Nobody told you?” he questioned, sounding perplexed.

“Know what, Robin?” you said, voice cracking. He paused, rubbing at his nose with the back of his hand.

“Joker shot her,” he spoke quietly, and you felt tears slip down your cheeks, under your mask. “He paralyzed her.” For a moment you felt guilty, but for what? Leaving Gotham without taking the kids with you? They would never willingly leave, they have a fascination with the city that you don’t share. A connection. You only harbor hatred for the grim place. The anger which you had felt all night somehow managed to get hotter. You knew coming back was a mistake, but it was too late to leave. Another child as Robin, Barbara paralyzed, and the Joker still breathing. You were stuck in Gotham now.

You had previously had second thoughts about offing the Joker, but you felt clear certainty now. You would choke the life out of him with your bare hands if you had to, and if anyone tried to stop you, they would regret it.

“Go home, Robin. I’ll take care of the factory.” You demanded, picking yourself up off of the cold roofing. Robin stood up as well.

“I don’t know, Boss said I need to be here,” he said, his voice unsure. You moved to where he stood, shoving him back slightly, away from the edge.

“Go, now. If it was so important he would be here.” You growled, readying your grapple again, finger on the trigger. But before you could pull it back, your shoulder was roughly yanked back, pulling you away from the edge roughly. You angerly steadied yourself, hurriedly pulling a throwing knife out of your utility belt. The black mass that stood in front of you, leering over, frowned at you. Robin stood behind him, cowering down slightly.

“I am here, (Y/N),” Batman spoke harshly. He was using his intimidation voice, which annoyed you to no end. You tightened your grip on the knife.

“Not the fight I was expecting,” you spoke slyly, “but I’ll take it.”

And believe that anything is possible when you have the right people there to support you.

Jason Todd x Mom!Reader- Babybird Part One

More Jason Todd cause he is my son. This is pretty long, and there will be more parts. 

Warning: Graphic mentions of violence, mentions of nightmares

  You were woken up by a string of screams coming from the room opposite yours. In a matter of seconds, the duvet was thrown to the floor, and you had dashed across the hall to the room where Jason resided. The young boy was sitting up in the bed, the screaming had ceased, but his chest heaved up and down, and his shaggy black hair skewed the view of his usually youthful face. Carefully, you made your way towards the bed, speaking in such a soft tone Jason could barely hear you, but yet, in a voice that always managed to ground Jason after being rocked by a nightmare.    "Honey, it's okay," you hushed him as you gently lowered yourself to sit on the bed. Twelve-year-olds shouldn't be having dreams that bad, you thought. Jason seemed so tiny, and fragile, compared to such a large bed, as he curled in on himself, watching as you sat next to him.      This wasn't a rare occurrence, Jason had nightmares often. You supposed that was what happened when a child was thrown into an adults battle. Jason had heard and seen so much back with his biological parents. and when he took up the Robin mantle, that only seemed to make things worse. But Jason was like Dick and seemed to desperately seek Bruce's approval. Willing to fight alongside the Batman in order to spend time with him, to make Bruce proud. Bruce was your best friend, but if there was one thing you hated about him, it was his need to take in kids and allow them to fight beside him, to become sidekicks. Allow them to fight the heinous criminals of Gotham at such a young age.

     You watched sadly as Jason trembled, his breathing uneven, swaying slightly in place. You had dealt with situations like this before with him and knew by heart what to do. Carefully, you reached a hand out to brush the black mess of hair away from Jason's eyes, revealing tear coated and reddened cheeks, as well as bloodshot eyes. He was exhausted. It was rare, though, for dreams to be so severe that he had to rock back and forth, as well as not attempt to hide the flowing tears. Usually, you came in, checked if he was alright, he would force out a reply, and you stayed with him until he fell back asleep, but tonight was clearly not going to be like that. The dream had been too real. So much so that Jason clearly didn't want to deal with the aftermath alone.      As you brushed his tears away from his cheeks with timid fingertips, Jason would swear that it was the softest thing he had ever felt. No one was so gentle, and caring for him as you were. He wouldn't admit to how happy that made him. Even with your velvet touch to his cheeks, it wasn't enough to soothe away the pain that had been brought on by the dream. More fat tears rolled down Jason's cheeks. They were silent tears until you spoke.    "You're okay, Jason, it was a dream." A wretched sob escaped past Jason's lips, urging you to pull him close to you. Nuzzling into the crook of your neck, Jason continued to cry, some sobs quiet, while others were loud. No, this was more than a nightmare, it was a memory, you remembered from past experiences. Jason only cried so hard when it was something he was forced to relive. "Oh, Babybird," you cooed, raking your hands against his scalp. Pulling back from his hold slightly, which he whimpered at, you placed a kiss on his forehead. Then on his cheek, and the other, then back to his forehead. It hurt to see a child so vulnerable, in so much pain. Every instinct in you was telling you to hide him away, to tell Bruce he could no longer be his Robin. To keep him safe. Unharmed.    "Stay?" Of course, he wouldn't want you to leave, as evidenced by his tight hold around your waist. No child would want to be left alone after something like that. You nodded without speaking, continuing to hold him as he finished crying. It was a solid hour before he fell asleep in your arms, his breathing finally going back to being even. Peaceful.      You stayed with him for the rest of the night, occasionally fallings asleep, only to be jerked awake when he moved slightly in his sleep. The protective mode that had been activated when you first entered the room had yet to subside. All you wanted to do was keep him safe. Make sure that he was never put through something like what he has seen before again. That's what parents want for their children, and surely you were Jason's mother, as he was your son.

     Over the years you had spent with him, the bond had only grown stronger, and by the time he was fifteen, you had completely taken up the role of his mother. Which is why when he got on that plane to Ethiopia and never returned, you left. You put the blame so heavily on Bruce that you couldn't bear to be around him anymore. He should have never let Jason be Robin!      But Jason had been Robin, and the Joker had killed him. And when Bruce said he wouldn't get rid of the Joker for good, you left Gotham in general. For months you had disappeared, you knew full well that Bruce, Dick, and Barbara had been looking for you, needing to know that you were alive still. You were very much alive, though you knew they would never find you where you were.      Many months, almost a year and a half, after Jason's death, and your disappearance, Talia Al Ghul was the one to find you. You had met her back when you and Bruce were teenagers, and though she occasionally assisted her father in committing atrocities, you were still her friend. By your account, she had done many things to prove that she could be trusted. And so, you went with her, back to her home on the other side of the planet. So far away from Bruce, and Gotham, and away from everything that reminded you that you were a mother who had lost her son to a villain that should have been killed years before Jason was even born.      The League of Assassins were a group of people you were familiar with and often found yourself hating. They were trained to brutally kill the innocent, and you were trained to do the opposite. You were to save those who couldn't keep themselves safe. But the conflict you felt, and the pain that gripped your heart kept you there.      Everything had changed so suddenly. For years you were convinced that killing was wrong, even when it came to criminals. But as you sat beside Talia, you thought deeply, eyes trained on the two people that dueled each other in front of you. Was killing the evil people of the world so wrong?    "My new protege," Talia hummed, pointing to one of the people who battled the other. "He shows great promise." You watched in horror as her protege kicked their opponent's knees in, forcing them to the ground with a yelp. With the sword, he held in his hands, in one quick motion, the head of the opponent was detached, left to be taken away by a servant. Blood covered the ground, and sword, the smell was horrific, and you were forced to hold back a gag. Why were you here?    "I thought you had a son to take care of Talia," you remarked bitterly. A young son, in fact, a baby. You never could understand how she bared to be away from him, knowing what the people here could do. "How do you have time for a protege?" You stared at the boy she had been training as he let his sword fall to the ground, his shoulders slumped. His body language read loud and clear- he didn't want to do that. He didn't want to kill that person. You knew that look.    "My son is a baby, he knows not if I am present or otherwise. This boy needs my attention now," She said calmly, running a hand through her thick black hair. "I want to help him."    "By teaching him to murder?" You questioned, Talia rolled her eyes.    "By teaching him to do what is necessary," She corrected. You bit the inside of your cheek hard. Maybe she thought she was doing the right thing. "He has unused potential, I will show him how to use it."      You didn't belong with the League. Well- you weren't there for them. You didn't like them. You were there for Talia, your friend. But she was one of them, and it was her job to make more of them like her. Assassins. Killers. Half of yourself wanted to leave, but the other half told you that this was the only place for you.      You stood from where you sat next to Talia, smoothing out the wrinkles in your skirt. The body of the murdered man was being taken away, the sun shining against to puddles of blood.    "It is too hot here, I am going inside," You says, pulling at the headscarf you wore, feeling dizzy and sick. The protege, you noticed, had moved to sit on the ground, probably feeling as miserable as you, as he wore all black, not an inch of skin visible. You couldn't imagine how he was feeling, nor did you want to. Not a thing in the world could make you want to do what the Assassins were trained to do. Murder, train in harsh conditions and live under Ra's Al Ghul.      The heat of the desert was brutal, the sun beat down relentlessly, the air was still, and humid. Entirely different from Gotham, which rained almost at a constant, and was often cold and had a bitter wind. You found yourself longing for that familiar weather. Your home had always been the city, after all, and being away from it for so long was beginning to take a toll. Being away from your family did nothing to help.      Talia stood up as well, motioning for her apprentice to follow her. You dipped your head down, trying to avoid the sunlight. The headscarf you wore was lightly colored and did help a small amount in protecting your head and face from the harsh rays of the desert sun.    "My friend," she spoke kindly, you glanced up at her in acknowledgment. "If you wish to return home, I will understand." It was as if now she was reading your thoughts. You nodded slowly at this. "I can see your discomfort in being here, you are not happy."    "I won't be happy there either," You sighed.    "Happier then here, I believe." She was right. You didn't belong here. These weren't your people, and the desert was not your home. Gotham was your home. Dick, Barbara, and Bruce were your family, whether you hated Bruce or not. You would go back to Gotham. You were beginning to feel as if you had to return.      But the Joker was going to die when you arrived. No matter what Bruce said or did.

Meeting Jason Todd…

• You met when he was Robin. He had been swinging around on the rooftops, not watching where he was going, having the time of his life- then WHOMP. He slammed right into you, knocking the wind out of both your lungs.

•Why were you on the roof, goddamnit, it was almost three in the morning. With a groan, he pushed himself up off the ground and brushed himself off, with the intent of tearing whoever got in his way a new one, but then he was suddenly back on the ground again?

•You had pushed him. Hard. An angry look on your face- mouth down-turned, eyebrows furrowed, and letting out a growl.

•"Really?“, you barked, "Watch where you are swinging next time, Tights!” ‘Tights’, you had called him. Jason groaned.

•"Well, what the hell are you doing on the roof at three in the morning?“ Robin snapped back. He stood up again, and once more you went to shove him, but he snatched your wrists before you could make contact with his chest.

•"None of your buisness, you freaking walking stoplight!”

•"My name is Robin!“

•"I don’t care!”

•He sucked in a deep breath before dropping your wrists. He scratched at the back of his neck, beginning to rethink his actions. What would Batman say, huh?

•"I’m sorry I ran into you,“ Robin said quietly, to which you hummed.

•"Sorry I shoved you.” Good. Ammends had been made. He could leave. But as he turned to leave, he noticed you move to the edge of the building, standing tall over the city, leaning forward a bit. Robin scrambled towards you, arms out.

•"W-wait! What are you doing?“ he screeched.

•You paused, eyes wide, "I am not going to- er! Oh my god, why would I do that? Especially with you here?” You fought to find the right words. Robin seemingly relaxed. A little.

•"Well that’s how it looks,“ he reasoned, coming to stand next to you on the ledge. You quietly sat down, your legs crossed, staring up at the stars.

•"I come out here to look at the sky sometimes,” you told him as he sat down as well. “There is no fog up here.” Robin nodded. You were right. For once, Jason could make out almost all the stars in the night sky, he could even name some of the constellations.

•"I don’t think I have ever bothered to look at the sky when I am up here,“ he said.

•"You should try it more often,” you replied.

•So Jason did. Every chance he got, actually. Whenever it was a slow night, he would drop by the same roof where you always were, and the two of you would quietly look up at the bright burning lights in the sky.

•For weeks you two simply observed the night, not talking much. But over time, small talk became long talks. It became hanging out with each other and forgetting about the stars so you could focus on the other. He told you his real name thereafter.

•Then you realized you went to the same school, and it became hanging out day and night. He left some nights, claiming to be busy with something, or his dad wanted him home. He never told you the specifics about what he did as Robin.

•Weeks became months, then a year.

•He became something more then a friend to you. You were sure he was going to officially ask you out-

•Then he disappeared.

•From school. From nightly unoffical dates. From the city.

•You tried to reason- maybe his family, the Waynes, moved.

•But there were no reports that Bruce Wayne had left Gotham, his rare appearance still making headlines occasionally.

•Had you done something wrong?

•Why didn’t he tell you he was leaving?

•You had to move on though.

•You no longer went stargazing after that.

•Years went by- you graduated, began college. Had a big piece of your life planned out.

•You tried not to think about him.

•You didn’t pay any attention to Bruce Wayne, or the rest of the family. You didn’t care.

•Batman continued to roam about, and so did the other heros that Jason had told you about.

•Jason was replaced as Robin, eventually. You knew it wasn’t Jason- even with a mask on you could tell, the new Robin looked nothing like him. That, for some reason, angered you. Replace Jason? How? Why?

•Between college, interships, work, and basic young adult life, you didn’t have time to ask questions.

•You’re life moved on, with or without a certain someone missing.

•Life was normal. Slightly boring.

•Until news of a new crimelord on the streets- scarily close to where you lived- arose. Affectivly putting you on edge.

•When a map of the constellations, folded too many times, was shoved into your mailbox, there for you to find, your life became even more interesting.