The Making Of A Villian - Chapter 1

SKULLY!!!!

YOUR WRITING IS SO GOOD OMFG

I LOVE IT!!!!!

-🪼

My bad for just getting around to this

THANK YOU THOUGH!

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.

The Genre Bakecase:

- Salted Silence Scones (angst) - Bittersweet Brioche (angst w/ comfort) - Sweetheart Shortbread (fluff) - Mend-Me Macarons (hurt no comfort) - Cherry-On-Top Cheesecake (romance) - Wildcard Whisk Cupcake (a make your own, mix genres etc) - Poisoned Passionfruit Pie (Enemies to Lovers / Lovers to Enemies) - Wasteland Wedding Cake (au versions of TMoaV) - Bitterlayers Tart (The Making of a Villian fic)

Blood and Ectoplasm

Crime Alley had always felt haunted. Jason Todd knew that better than anyone.

But this? This was different.

The night pressed heavy against the streets, the usual Gotham smog thickened by something deeper, something unseen. Jason moved through the alleys like a shadow, boots silent on damp pavement. The smell of rain clung to the air, mixing with the ever-present stench of cigarette smoke and old blood.

The reports had been vague, scattered whispers from the usual lowlifes. Muggers jumped by something glowing. Thugs left unconscious, their victims unharmed. Some swore they saw a figure floating, eyes burning neon green.

Normally, Jason would brush it off as another rogue metahuman or maybe one of Bruce’s new recruits playing hero without backup. But the way they described it—

"It wasn’t human."

Jason adjusted his grip on his pistol. Whatever was out here, he was about to find it.

Then, a flash of green light flickered in the distance. A rooftop, just ahead.

Jason exhaled slowly, and moved.

Danny Phantom had been to a lot of places in his time as a ghost. The Ghost Zone, Amity Park, alternate dimensions. But Gotham?

Gotham felt wrong.

The ectoplasmic corruption here was thick, choking the air like poison. It wasn't just the standard residue from restless spirits—it was alive, shifting beneath the city's surface, coiling like a sickness that had long since taken root.

Danny floated above the alleyways, scanning the streets below. His aura burned brighter than usual, reacting to the energy pulsing beneath his feet.

He’d been tracking the source for hours, but now he was sure.

Something in this city was infected with corrupted ectoplasm. And it was close.

Too close.

A gunshot rang out.

Danny turned just in time to see the bullet coming straight for his head.

His instincts kicked in. He phased, the round passing harmlessly through his skull as he twisted midair.

Below him, standing in the streetlight’s glow, was a man in red and black armor.

Helmeted. Armed. And already aiming again.

Danny barely had time to register him before another shot rang out.

Jason didn’t hesitate. He fired again, watching as the figure dodged—no, phased through the bullet like it was nothing.

Definitely not a metahuman.

Jason’s grip on his gun tightened. "You’ve got three seconds to tell me what the hell you are before I make sure you can’t float away, Casper."

The glowing figure, still hovering a few feet above the ground, raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Jeez, ever heard of saying hello first?"

Jason didn't answer. He moved.

A flick of his wrist, and his pistol was holstered, replaced with a throwing knife laced in Lazarus-forged steel.

The knife flew.

Danny dodged—but not fast enough. The blade sliced through his arm, burning in a way that made his entire body seize.

Danny hissed, gripping his arm. His fingers came away stained in ectoplasm.

Jason took a slow step forward, watching him closely. "Huh. So you can bleed."

Danny’s glowing green eyes snapped to him, and for the first time, Jason saw recognition.

"You—" Danny inhaled sharply, eyes narrowing. His gaze flickered over Jason, the glow in his irises deepening. "You're—this energy—"

Then his expression hardened.

"Oh," he muttered. "You're the problem."

Jason didn’t know what that meant, and he didn’t care.

Because the next second, Danny attacked.

Jason had fought metas before. He’d fought monsters, assassins, even demons. But fighting Danny Phantom was like fighting a ghost made of lightning.

Danny moved too fast, blinking in and out of tangibility, dodging bullets, appearing behind Jason before he could react. Jason barely managed to block an ectoplasmic blast with his armored gauntlet before swinging one of his knives straight for Danny’s throat.

Danny phased—only to curse when Jason switched hands, slashing upward.

The Lazarus-infused blade met ghostly flesh.

Danny choked back a shout as the steel burned through his shoulder.

Jason saw the flicker of pain across Danny’s face.

Then, the air cracked.

Jason felt it before he understood it—something surging, thickening between them. The air burned cold and hot all at once. The moment Jason reached out—the moment he grabbed Danny by the wrist—

The world collapsed.

It was like being submerged in ice.

Jason staggered, his vision ripped away. No longer in the alley. No longer in Gotham.

He stood in a swirling void of green and black, weightless.

Doors floated in the distance, stretching into infinity. Whispers crawled through the mist.

Ahead of him, Danny Phantom hovered—but he wasn’t the same.

A crown of spectral energy burned above his head. His form flickered, no longer just a teenager in a hazmat suit, but something older. More.

Jason exhaled, his breath misting in the unnatural cold.

His rage—the fire that had burned beneath his skin since his resurrection—was gone.

For the first time in years, his mind was quiet.

Danny’s voice came slow, careful. "The Lazarus Pit’s hold on you—it doesn’t work here."

Jason didn’t answer, staring at his hands. They weren’t trembling.

Danny floated closer. "You’re drowning in it, aren’t you?"

Jason’s jaw clenched. "I don’t need a damn intervention."

Danny sighed, tilting his head toward the floating doors around them. "You don’t have a choice. The longer we fight, the worse the Pit’s corruption gets. For both of us."

Jason barely heard him. Because now, he was seeing.

The Ghost Zone pulsed around him, warping, shifting. And within it, like reflections in glass—

His own memories.

Pain. Agony. Hands clawing against a coffin lid.

A child's scream.

The roar of the Pit as it dragged him back.

Jason’s breath hitched. He staggered back, head pounding.

Danny’s expression softened. "Jason—"

Jason’s fist clenched. "Get me the hell out of here."

Danny studied him for a moment longer. Then, with a quiet sigh, he raised his hand.

The world snapped back into place.

Jason landed hard, boots scraping against Gotham pavement. His pulse hammered in his ears. The Pit’s energy returned, but it was weaker now. Fading at the edges.

Danny dusted himself off, his glow dimming slightly. "Well," he muttered. "That was fun. Let’s not do that again."

Jason exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "No promises."

Danny studied him. Then, after a beat, he tilted his head. "You know, I could help."

Jason scoffed. "I don’t need—"

Danny raised an eyebrow.

Jason scowled. Looked away.

Danny smirked. "Alright, Red. See you around."

Then, with a flicker of green light, he vanished.

Jason stood in the alley for a long moment, staring at the empty space where Danny had been.

For the first time in a long time, the whispers of the Pit didn’t feel so loud.

(Kinda had this in my notes for awhile, edited it a bit and made it longer cause plot)

It was 3 AM, and the Batcave was in shambles.

The Batmobile was somehow on fire (which shouldn't be possible, considering the literal armor plating), the Batcomputer was making a noise that sounded suspiciously like it was about to achieve sentience and demand labor rights, and Jason was standing on the table, brandishing a baguette like it was Excalibur.

"WHO DARES CHALLENGE ME?!" he bellowed, wild-eyed and clearly fueled by at least six energy drinks and a death wish.

"GO TO BED, JASON!" Bruce roared, attempting to put out the Batmobile flames with his cape. It was not working.

Meanwhile, you were sitting on the Batcomputer desk, eating a grilled cheese you definitely did not have when you arrived. "So what happened?"

Dick, laying face down on the floor, groaned. "Tim happened."

"Tim?" you echoed, blinking. You turned your head slightly, only to see the boy in question passed out under the Batcomputer, surrounded by an alarming number of empty coffee cups. His laptop screen flashed [Would you like to proceed with world domination? Y/N], which seemed concerning, but not your problem.

"I'M STILL WAITING FOR A CHALLENGER!" Jason hollered, swinging the baguette dangerously close to Alfred, who effortlessly dodged like he does this every Tuesday.

Damian, standing on the Batcave railing like a gremlin, sipped his tea. "If you hit Pennyworth, I will stab you."

Jason cackled. "Joke’s on you, I’d like that."

Bruce, finally giving up, threw a batarang at the fire alarm and let the sprinklers do their job. He then turned to you, his only remaining hope. "Fix this."

You took another bite of your grilled cheese and made direct eye contact with him. "Nah."

And with that, Bruce turned around and walked straight into the Batmobile flames.

Alfred sighed. "I shall prepare the first aid kit."

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Crackfic anyone? I did in fact write at 3 something in the morning and just left it in my drafts

I LOVE THIS CONTINUATION! Thank you for adding the girls!

Dadman: Rise of Cringe

Summary: Bruce is benched from Batman duty. Instead of resting, he becomes... too much of a father.

It started with a pulled muscle.

Bruce—Batman, scourge of the Gotham underworld, peak human conditioning, walking myth—had slightly tweaked his back during a rooftop chase and had the audacity to wince in front of Alfred.

Within twenty-four hours, he was grounded by the Justice League, medicated by Leslie Thompkins, and scolded into submission by every member of the Batfamily.

“You need rest,” Dick said, concerned.

“You need to stop whining,” Damian added.

“You need to sit down before you drop dead,” Jason grunted.

Bruce, in his infinite wisdom, nodded.

And then decided to go full dad mode.

The Batcave was reorganized by “chore rotation.”

“Family Dinner Thursdays” became mandatory. If you missed it, he’d send a sad-face emoji. In the group chat. With a Bitmoji of himself wearing a “#1 Dad” hoodie.

Jason was the first to crack.

“Why is he like this?” he whispered at the dinner table, poking his lasagna like it offended him.

“He made me go on a walk this morning,” Tim whispered back. “A brisk walk. Around the Manor. For 'mental clarity.'”

Bruce entered the room in khakis and a tucked-in polo shirt. “Who’s ready for family game night?”

Dick groaned audibly. Damian tried to crawl under the table.

Later that week:

Bruce showed up at Damian’s fencing match in a shirt that read My Son Can Beat Up Your Son.

He cheered. Loudly.

“GO, DAMI! USE THE FOOTWORK WE PRACTICED!”

“You practiced with him?” Dick asked, mortified.

“In the backyard,” Bruce said, beaming. “We bonded.”

Damian scowled. “He made me drink coconut water and called it ‘dad fuel.’”

It only got worse.

Bruce cornered Tim in the kitchen at 8AM with a breakfast burrito and a question sheet titled “How’s College, Champ?” It had bullet points.

He helped Jason change a tire then handed him a handshake coupon for “One Free Hug, No Questions Asked.”

He dragged Dick to a farmer’s market, bought a dozen jams, and told vendors about “my acrobat son.”

Nightwing’s PR was never the same.

The final straw came when Bruce made the family record a TikTok to a trending dance.

He wore socks with sandals.

They all begged Zatanna to curse him.

Two Weeks Later:

Bruce was cleared for field duty. Suit polished. Cape pressed.

But at family dinner that night, he brought out a tray of grilled kabobs.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a smirk. “I’m back. But Dadman’s here to stay.”

Tim dropped his fork.

Jason muttered a prayer.

Damian screamed into a napkin.

Dick, exhausted, lifted his lemonade. “To Dadman.”

Bruce raised his own glass proudly. “To family.”

Alfred, in the background, smiled softly and took a photo for the fridge.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ No one asked for this so why did I write this? Because free will is a thing apparently. Don't ask me what this is or why because I have no idea. I just needed it out of my brain.

Oh I am most definitely implying that they like to cause chaos and trouble!

I read "Villainy, Coffee and other minor inconveniences", and the 'duckmaster of disaster' just made me think of the untitled goose phrase 'its a lovely day in the town, and you are a horrible goose' :D

In terms of nicknames, I'm maybe a bit biased, but I like Duck, or something akin to that. The duckmaster of disaster just stuck with me for some reason

And I'll come back to you with scenario ideas, since I need to get my thoughts in order.

Keep up the great work, and keep yourself hydrated!

First off, I can tell you're gonna be one of my fav anons so feel free to give yourself an emoji to make it easier to know who I'm talking to!

Second, that phase is the embodiment of our lovely Neglected!Villain!Reader. I do like the nickname but if you have any other ideas, tell me!

I also look forward to any ideas you have! It might help come up with ideas to write about as this is not a fully flushed story yet so anything can happen!

Batfam on Valentine's Day

Bruce Wayne

Tries to act like Valentine's Day isn’t a big deal but always pulls off something extravagant last minute.

Prefers quiet, intimate moments over flashy events—like a candlelit dinner at home or a rooftop date overlooking Gotham.

Writes heartfelt letters that he struggles to deliver, so Alfred sneaks them into his partner’s things.

If his partner teases him about being romantic, he’ll just smirk and say, “I don’t need one day to show you how I feel.”

Dick Grayson

Goes all out—flowers, chocolates, dinner, and probably a choreographed dance if his partner asks for it.

Loves playful, flirty dates, like roller skating, amusement parks, or even dancing in the Batcave.

Sends a bunch of ridiculous text messages leading up to the date, full of heart emojis and bad puns.

If his partner doesn’t like big celebrations, he’s totally happy just cuddling and watching rom-coms.

Jason Todd

Acts like he doesn’t care but actually puts a lot of thought into his gift—probably something personal, like a book he annotated or a rare vinyl record.

Not big on public displays of affection but will hold his partner’s hand under the table or wrap an arm around them absentmindedly.

If his partner likes action, he’ll take them on a date that includes shooting practice, a motorcycle ride, or some rooftop parkour.

Ends the night by cooking a homemade meal (better than expected) and reading with his partner in comfortable silence.

Tim Drake

Completely forgets it's Valentine's Day until the last second. Scrambles to put something together but somehow pulls it off.

Workaholic tendencies mean his partner might have to drag him away from a case to celebrate.

Prefers thoughtful gifts over grand gestures—like a playlist of songs that remind him of them or a handwritten note tucked into their stuff.

His idea of a perfect Valentine’s date? Staying up late with takeout, gaming, or watching sci-fi movies with his partner curled up next to him.

Damian Wayne

Initially dismisses Valentine’s Day as “commercialized nonsense” but secretly gets his partner a handmade gift.

If his partner is artistic, he’ll paint or sketch something for them (and act like it’s no big deal).

Gets flustered if they try to be affectionate in public but secretly loves it in private.

His idea of a date is something active—sparring together, horseback riding, or visiting an art exhibit he thinks they’ll appreciate.

Barbara Gordon

Likes a balance between romance and practicality—maybe dinner at a cozy spot, followed by a late-night city patrol.

Probably hacks her partner’s devices to send them cute (and slightly embarrassing) Valentine’s messages.

If her partner is into books, she’ll gift them a first edition of something they love.

Makes sure every Batcomputer screen in the cave displays a heart-filled message just to mess with the others.

Cassandra Cain

Not big on words, but shows love through small, meaningful actions—like fixing her partner’s favorite snack or holding their hand.

Loves quiet, peaceful dates—maybe a rooftop picnic where they just enjoy each other’s presence.

Might write something sweet but struggle to say it, so she just hands her partner a note and looks away.

If her partner gets cold, she’ll silently wrap them in her own jacket and pretend it’s no big deal.

Stephanie Brown

Goes all-in on cheesy, fun Valentine’s traditions—heart-shaped pancakes, silly gifts, and matching sweaters.

Leaves random love notes and doodles in her partner’s stuff leading up to the day.

Loves spontaneous adventures, so expect a road trip or a scavenger hunt through Gotham.

Would 100% try to sneak into a fancy restaurant without a reservation, just for the thrill.

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!”

The Making of a Villian

Batfamily X Neglected!Villian!Reader fics and everything that goes with it will be found here as I do have plans to turn it into a running story when I have the time.

Main Story:

Chapter 0 , 1 , 2

Side Stories:

Villainy, Coffee, and Other Minor Inconveniences

Q/A:

Dynamic between Reader and Batfam