#alfred x ps reader
Text
Tired Timmy
Pairing: Tim Drake x reader
Warnings: None
Summary: Fluff- When you return from a mission, you realize how tired Tim is and get him to sleep.
Word Count: 1598
PS: I IMPLORE THE BATFAM WRITERS TO MAKE MORE TIMMY CONTENT
Tonight, was an especially cold night. Snow fell over the city and blanketed everything in sight. You had just gotten back from a mission in the Amazon and was on break from patrol duty. Aside from getting used to the change in climate from where you were versus where you are now, you were worried about Tim. Of course, he was relieved that you were back safe and sound, he told you as much, but he seemed especially stressed as of lately. It wasn’t uncommon for him to stress about you leaving for a mission without him, but even coming back didn’t seem to stall his emotions.
“How’s it going Timmy?” You asked in the comms, watching the surveillance cameras from around the city.
“mmm” he grumbled in response
“That good huh?” You started snickering at his response, “Only thirty more minutes and then you can come crash.”
“Good to know.” He said as you watched him haphazardly swing from one building to another, “any leads on the Riddler case?”
“A few, I’m pretty sure he and Penguin are in cahoots again. I’d say that they’re getting ready for a heist. Give them three weeks tops.” Tim heard paper being tossed around as you combed through the case files regarding your suspicions, “We can go over them when you’re rested.”
“I’ll be fine.” Tim said, “We’ll talk about it when I get back.”
You weren’t going to argue with him. Tim could be stubborn about working and you didn’t want him angry on patrol, especially when he was this tired. It was a good way of making sure that he came home injured.
“Dick, make sure that Tim doesn’t throw himself off a building or something.” You said on a private link.
“I’m always on it, Y/N/N.” He replied in a chipper tone, “You see it too?”
“Yeah,” you leaned back in your chair, watching as the boys ran through the city, “I’ll pick his brain on it when you guys get back. Just make sure he comes back in one piece.”
“Will do.”
You logged into the computer database on Penguin and Riddler’s recent moves, trying to pinpoint connections to them. It was late and you told Alfred to go to sleep so there was only Damian’s pets keeping you company. The first sign of extra life was the sounds of the Batmobile roaring through the underground tunnels. Sometimes, depending on how fast Bruce was going, the walls would vibrate and shake. Dust from the cave’s ceiling would fall onto the floor and in the air as he came flying into the garage. Today it was mundane, and no dust came off the walls. You heard the mechanical sliding of the doors opening and two pairs of heavy footsteps before the sound of two other engines roared through the cave.
“How’s the investigation going?” Bruce asked, raking through the papers as Damian picked up Alfred the cat from the chair arm rest.
“It’s moving along nicely. I think they’re going for the new diamond exhibit downtown. I don’t know why anyone exhibits anything valuable in this city anymore.”
Bruce gave a stiff chuckle before patting you on the back, “Good work, turn in for the night, you need rest.”
Bruce started walking off as Tim came up and leaned over the side rest.
“Hey babe.” He tipped your chin to give you a kiss.
“How was patrol?” You asked, already knowing the answer.
“It was fine.” He said, pulling up a chair next to you.
“You seem exhausted.” “Timmy let’s go to bed. We need rest.”
“Looks aren’t always as they appear Y/N/N.” He mindlessly ran his fingers through your hair and stared at you, “What do you have on the case?”
You knew there was nothing you could do to get Tim to go to bed at this point. It was time for plan “Timber”. Talking fast, you told him everything you had. There was no repeating what you had said, and you started flipping through the papers as fast as possible without raising suspicion. You had the clocks set to look like a later time, making sure that Tim would think it was later than it was. It was obvious when the plan was working since you saw Tim’s unfocused eyes start wandering around the cave. When it got to this point, Tim would finally decide it was time to rest.
“Does that make sense?” You asked, thumbing over his fingers, “I’ve got the schematics of the-“
“Y/N/N, it makes sense but, uh, I’m not focusing anymore.”
“Do you wanna go to bed?” You asked, searching for any sign of resistance in his eyes, “Come on.”
You stood up and pulled him out of the chair, he leaned into you and let his weight rest against you.
“Sorry, you just got back from a mission, you must be sore.” He said, leaning off you.
“It’s okay Timmy, I’m alright.” You hugged him and led him upstairs, “Come on, I’ll get you to bed.”
“M’ not a baby, I can’t get there myself.” He mumbled into your shoulder before pausing, “That came out snappy.”
“You’re fine Tim. I know you’re tired.”
“I’m fine.”
Again, you didn’t say anything back, but instead led him up the next flight of stairs and into his room. Leaving him to grab his clothes, you walked into the bathroom and started the shower. When the water was warm enough, you opened the door to tell Tim it was ready. He walked in before calling you back in, the softness of his voice showing how tired he was.
“Hey um, you haven’t showered yet either have you?” He asked, crossing his arms with a towel wrapped around his waist.
“I showered after dinner Tim.” You said, raising a brow.
“Oh yea.” There was a silence in the room for a few seconds.
“But, if you insist, I can’t say no.” This made Tim chuckle a bit before you shut the door and he dropped the towel before he got into the shower himself.
You quickly undressed and opened the glass door, joining Tim in the hot stream of water. Tim leaned his head against your shoulder and sighed deeply.
“I’m tired.” He admitted, wrapping his arms around you, relishing in the heat of the water and the closeness of you.
“I gathered as much.” “You’ve been over working yourself recently. I told Dick to make sure you didn’t run yourself to death before I got back.”
“It’s not Dick’s fault.” He said, “I have my ways.”
“Oh, I know.” You laughed, making Tim laugh with you.
“I’m glad you’re back. I thought I’d kill someone for the past three weeks.”
“I’m glad to be back too. Also, glad you didn’t kill anyone, that would be unfortunate.” You started running shampooed hands through his hair, washing the dirt and grime down the drain.
Tim closed his eyes and let the water run over his head, washing away the soap and eventually the conditioner that you ran through his hair. He began to wash himself, making sure not to run over the bruises on his torso. Tim gave you a quick glance before double taking.
“What’s this from?” He asked, running a soapy finger over a stitched wound on your stomach, “I haven’t seen it.”
“Got grazed by a blade during the mission.” “One of the assassins got the best of Cassie and I jumped in front of her.”
“It looks painful.” “I’ve been leaning on you this entire time, are you hurt anywhere else?” He spun you around and started looking for signs of other injuries.
“Besides a few bruises, I’m fine. You’re fine Timmy I’m not hurt.”
“This doesn’t look fine. Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked
“I didn’t want to worry you, you’re exhausted.” The rest of the soap ran off the two of you and into the drain, “I didn’t want you stressing yourself out.”
“I’m sorry.” Tim said honestly, “You said to get rest but I totally didn’t.”
“Tim I’m not upset with you. I know it’s your job and you feel passionately about it, I’m just worried you don’t sleep, it’ll get you hurt on the field.”
“I know you’re right.”
“Come on, let’s get dress and go to bed. I don’t think I have a change of clothes in here.” You said grabbing two towels from the heated rack.
“I brought you some sweats.” Tim replied with a smirk.
“Oh, so you’re admitting that you planned this all along?” You laughed nudging him jokingly.
“Just the shower.”
When you had dried off totally, you walked back into the bedroom and turned the fan on. Walking back to the bed, you saw that Tim was already getting into bed. His eyes were fluttering shut and opening again, over, and over. He turned his head to you and spread out, getting comfortable.
“I’m tired.” He said softly.
“I know love.” You climbed next to him and reached over him to turn the lamp off.
“That’s a good view babe.” Tim said with a smirk in his voice before you leaned back onto your side.
“Glad you approve.”
You laid down, pulling Tim closer to you. He put his head into the crook of your neck and took a deep breath before wrapping his legs around you. Pushing the covers over his shoulders, you ran your fingers through his hair, watching as his breath evened out and his body relaxed.
“I’m exhausted. Can’t sleep without you” he said in a whisper.
�� “I know Timmy, but you can sleep now.”
#dc x reader#dc comics#dc characters#batfam x reader#batboys x reader#batfam#tim drake x gender neutral reader#tim drake x you#tim drake x reader#tim drake x y/n#tim drake x fem!reader#red robin x y/n#red robin x you#red robin x reader#red robin imagine#tim drake imagine#tim drake robin
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shadows in the night
battinson!bruce wayne x f!reader
epilogue
summary: more than a year after the events of middle of the night, y/n and Bruce are happily engaged and working to lower the amount of crime in Gotham. However, a new killer calling himself the Riddler has other plans for their happiness…set during the events of the movie, mostly canonical, some changes made to fit the story
a/n: I literally can’t believe this story is over. I started writing MOTN in March this year, and it has been with me ever since. Almost 9 months straight of MOTN and Battinson. I’m so thankful for this story and the community it brought me and how much fun it’s been over the course of these months! I could write an entire essay on what it means to me and about the people this story brought into my life, but I’ll keep it short and sweet for now.
I’d like to note that I kept this short on purpose--it’s just a glimpse into their future, and I didn’t want to bog it down with too many details. However, I do plan on including at least one more oneshot (maybe more).
(PS: @captain-ariel-rogers you’re welcome)
Series Masterlist
word count: 2807
Every tragedy in his life had led him there, to a home full of love and laughter, even amidst the shadows that came in the night.
The wind on top of the signal tower was unforgiving as Bruce waited next to the spotlight. It was March already, but winter had refused to release its claws from Gotham.
Things in the city had changed, and not all for the good. Not all for the bad, either.
Bella Reál had proven herself time and again to be a more than capable mayor. She thrived in the chaos, in the uncertainty, and had whipped Gotham into shape so quickly it had made Bruce’s head spin. Despite all of the crime, despite how many nights his signal shone in the dark, the new mayor had wrestled control of the city back into the hands of the good.
The trial had started in December as planned, despite the flooding and the wreckage of the city, mostly due to Bella Reál’s firm hand. It had taken weeks, draining them all, but in the end every single man had been convicted on multiple counts and been sent to prison for decades if not the rest of their lives.
For a while, as y/n was forced to relive her trauma on the stand, she had become a shell of herself. She had been withdrawn and quiet throughout the ordeal, the weight of the world holding her down despite Bruce and Alfred and even Gordon doing their best to share her burden. Her nightmares had worsened and Bruce had forced himself to come home earlier and earlier each night simply to be there for her.
But the closer the trial got to its end, the more fiery she became. Her shoulders had straightened and she had thrown herself into rebuilding not only the Gotham Project, but the Renewal Fund as well, and even several other smaller projects that went hand in hand with helping the city.
And she had planned their wedding. She wanted to get it done right, as Bruce had requested, but she also didn’t want to wait.
He was, to put it plainly, in awe of her.
And now, as March started to draw to a close, still wrapped in an unseasonably late winter, their wedding day loomed.
Bruce wasn’t sure what he was more nervous for–the meeting he was about to have with the newly appointed Commissioner Gordon, or the wedding day itself.
He fiddled with a hair tie he kept looped on his utility belt, a habit he had developed in the past year and a half.
It wasn’t too long before the elevator in the tower started rattling its way upwards.
Bruce inhaled sharply and fought against nervously tapping his foot or pacing back and forth. He forced himself into stillness as the doors slid open and Gordon stepped out. The man cursed and burrowed more deeply into his coat.
“Couldn’t we have done this inside?” Gordon called out.
“Light’s warm,” he said softly. It was true–the giant spotlight radiated warmth, more and more the longer it was on. Gordon shivered as he came to a stop next to Bruce. He rubbed his hands together to warm them. Bruce was glad for his own gloves, a newer pair that y/n had made him get that were thicker and lined with fleece. She’d forced him to winter proof his suit, for which he was grateful even if he had grumbled about it at the time.
“Been a while,” Gordon said as they both looked out over the city. It had been a while–things had died down over the past several weeks to the point where the signal was rarely needed. Bruce mostly patrolled on his own and used police scanners to find out where he was needed. “How you been, man?”
Bruce almost frowned. He didn’t realize that they made small talk now. “Fine,” he said.
“Good, good.” Gordon rubbed his hands together again almost absently, then glanced up at Bruce. “So, what have you got for me?”
Bruce couldn’t help shifting slightly from foot to foot. He hoped Gordon didn’t notice. But he was a good detective, a good cop–he likely did notice even if he was pretending otherwise.
Finally, Bruce said, voice gruff and nonchalant, “I have to…step back for a couple of weeks. I wanted you to know, in case you needed me and I didn’t show.”
He’d wavered back and forth, over and over again, between telling Gordon he was leaving and simply disappearing. But he cared for the city too much and had eventually decided that he couldn’t leave without telling someone. Y/n had agreed that Gordon was the best choice–he was trustworthy and likely wouldn’t press for information.
“I figured as much,” Gordon said. Bruce’s eyebrows drew together behind his mask. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll look out for things here, even turn the light on and off and spread some rumors. Make it seem like you’re still around.”
Bruce opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Why?” he said, the only question he could come up with that wouldn’t sound suspicious.
Gordon gave him a sly look then shrugged. “I want you to enjoy your honeymoon.”
The world fell away from Bruce’s feet. How could Gordon possibly know that was Bruce’s reason for leaving? He had no idea who Bruce was. Or at least, he shouldn’t.
“Wh-what?” Bruce said. He silently cursed the stammer in his voice that likely gave it all away. His heart thundered in his ears. Everything went utterly quiet in his mind, every thought wiped out by a wave of pure shock.
Gordon spread his hands innocently. “I’m just saying, man, if you were getting married this weekend and if you were about to go on your honeymoon, I don’t want you worrying about the city. I can take care of things for a couple of weeks.”
Bruce struggled to remain still, to control his breathing, to reign in the panic building in his chest. It was as if he’d just taken a dive over the side of the tower, the world rushing past him as his stomach swooped up towards his throat and his heart pounded with fear and adrenaline.
All the while, Gordon simply stared out at the skyline of Gotham all around them, his breath fogging in front of him as he breathed deeply and evenly.
Bruce silently warred with himself. Did Gordon actually know, or was he guessing? A cold sweat started at his spine and worked its way upwards.
But then he thought back to all the small interactions he’d had with Gordon, especially the ones where y/n had been around. The looks Gordon sometimes gave them, the small comments here and there. Gordon had even joked about y/n being taken and Batman having feelings for her, more than once.
Gordon knew.
Gordon had known for a while.
“How?” Bruce said after a long silence had stretched and warped between them. How did Gordon know, how was he sure, how long ago had he figured it out? That one word encapsulated everything Bruce wanted to ask.
“The gala,” Gordon said, which was the exact opposite answer of what Bruce had anticipated. “Your butler was there. She told the two of you to go home and, well…wasn’t hard to connect the dots after that. Especially with the way you looked at her. You tried to hide it, but…” Gordon chuckled.
Bruce swallowed hard. The roaring had quieted in his ears, but he still felt panicked, unsure. He had always known his feelings for y/n would be what led someone to connect his identity to Batman. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Gordon finally turned to face him. His expression was light, almost amused. “No offense, but I don’t really care who you are.” He shrugged. “You and me, we have the same goals. We want to keep the city safe. It doesn’t matter to me who you are. It never mattered to me.”
Bruce felt something odd in his chest at the words. He opened and closed his mouth several times.
Gordon had known for a year and a half and had never said anything. Had never cared.
“Like I said, man–enjoy your honeymoon.” Gordon winked, slapped him on the back, and left without another word.
Bruce could only stare after him, utterly stunned.
Finally, when he was so cold it hurt, he flipped off the light and left.
His thoughts churned all the way home. He couldn’t get past it–Gordon had known this whole time. He had never revealed Bruce’s secret, had never even gotten close, not even to Bruce himself.
Another person in his life that he didn’t deserve. Gordon had been a truer friend than he had ever realized.
Bruce changed in the abandoned subway station, shivering from the cold. It was later than he’d thought. He’d been frozen–literally and figuratively–atop the tower for much longer than he’d planned to be.
Upstairs, he found Alfred asleep on the couch, the cat Vinny curled up on his lap. Bruce smiled to himself. The butler always acted like he didn’t like the cat, who was now twice as big and twice as fluffy as he’d been when Selina had dropped him off. But toys always mysteriously showed up for the cat, ones that Bruce certainly hadn’t purchased and y/n swore she hadn’t gotten either.
Bruce quietly turned off the lamp and left them to sleep before turning towards his room.
That last little bit of anxiety finally melted from his chest.
The city was in Gordon’s capable hands. He knew he didn’t have to worry while he was gone. And as an added bonus, he didn’t even have to worry about anyone connecting the absence of Batman with Bruce Wayne’s absence. Gordon had taken care of that, too.
Bruce slid into bed next to y/n and sighed as she immediately curled up close to him.
He couldn’t wait for her to be his wife.
–
“Stop fidgeting,” Alfred murmured as he fixed Bruce’s bowtie. “You’ve no reason to be nervous.”
Easy for Alfred to say, Bruce thought a bit bitterly. Bruce hated having the spotlight on him. There were so many ways he could mess things up. And he didn’t want to mess a single thing up–he wanted it all to go perfectly.
“It’s y/n,” Alfred said as he smoothed the bowtie into place again. “Just you and her. No one else.”
And somehow, the words worked.
It’s just y/n, Bruce repeated silently to himself. He thought of her smile, her laugh, her warm hand in his, that little furrow between her eyebrows when she was concentrating. His nerves ebbed and settled. They were still present, but they were no longer choking him.
“Alright,” Alfred said as he stepped back. “That’s your cue, my boy.”
“Right,” Bruce said. The music had indeed shifted. He was supposed to go out to the altar. They’d practiced it the night before and everything.
“Now I have to go get the bride,” Alfred said with a wink.
Bruce swallowed and nodded. He made to step away, to go take his place, but Alfred caught him by the arm.
“I know neither of us are much for words,” Alfred said. He swallowed hard. Were those…tears in his eyes? Bruce was suddenly nervous again for a completely different reason. “But I love you like my own. You and y/n both.”
Bruce nodded because the lump in his throat wouldn’t let him speak. “I love you, too,” he finally managed, barely a whisper.
Alfred hugged him quickly, then shoved him none too gently towards the door.
“See you soon,” Alfred said with a watery smile.
And then Bruce was standing in front of the crowd, palms sweating, all alone except for the woman who would be officiating. He saw Gordon in a smart suit, his wife at his side. There were Bryn and Ollie, sitting with Lena and her son. The lone reporter they had invited to document the event with several incredibly thorough contracts. Bruce’s old housekeeper, Dory, whom y/n had replaced when she’d retired. Even Selina was there, dressed in black and sitting near the back. She caught his eye and winked.
It wasn’t really a crowd, only their closest friends and acquaintances. But it felt like hundreds of people to Bruce.
His only stipulation, besides doing the wedding the right way, was to get married in the same church where his parents had gotten married. He’d worried y/n would be disappointed, that it wouldn’t fit with her vision of the wedding, but she’d been enthusiastic about the idea.
His parents and her mother also had seats reserved for them, and he felt their eyes on him more than anyone else’s.
The music shifted again, and every single thought eddied from his mind.
The doors at the end of the aisle opened, and there she was.
His breath caught in his chest.
She was perfect. Her smile was wide and bright and the sight of it was like an arrow slicing through him.
Her eyes met his and the rest of the world faded away.
Emotion swelled, choking him, blurring his vision.
He had never expected to find a love like this, a love like hers, and here she was, moving towards him and looking at him like he had hung the moon.
Distantly, Bruce felt wetness on his cheeks.
But all he could see was her–the woman who was going to be his wife.
As she got closer and closer every last bit of nervousness he’d felt disappeared under her brightness. He was simply an object in her orbit, following her sun, helplessly caught by her gravity. She eclipsed everything else, utterly radiant and so perfect he could never believe she was going to be his.
Belatedly, he fumbled for the handkerchief Alfred had given him that morning. It had been Bruce’s fathers and still bore the initials T.W. He wiped at his eyes only because the tears were blurring the perfect vision of the woman in white before him.
He shoved the handkerchief back in his pocket, eyes never straying from her, and held out his hand as she stepped up to him.
Her hand was warm and fit perfectly in his own.
“Hi,” she whispered with a soft laugh as the officiant told everyone to be seated.
They faced forward and Bruce whispered, “Hi,” back to her, his smile so wide it hurt.
Now that she was close, he took in the small details, the world slowly fading back in at the edges. He was still focused on her, but it was no longer a total eclipse.
Her dress wasn’t quite white–ivory, he was pretty sure they called it, which he only knew from their many conversations about dress shopping–and had a long train. Her veil was long, too, making her look regal beside him, a queen at her coronation. The material of the dress was almost silky, unadorned but not boring. Nestled at his throat were his mother’s pearls, matching the delicate pearls on her veil. His breath caught again at the sight.
Y/n heard the small noise and turned her face to him to smile.
This woman was going to be his wife.
She nudged him gently and with a jolt, he realized that he was supposed to be paying attention to the officiant. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the woman at his side for long, stopping every few seconds to look at her in awe.
The ceremony was flying by without him hardly noticing. He vowed to love her, protect her, be beside her always. He vowed that they would never be parted, even in death. He reminded her that she was everything he’d ever wanted, the words choking him on the way out.
He had written the vows in an almost fugue state the night before, the words pouring from him. He meant every single thing he promised.
Then y/n vowed to love him, support him, be with him in all things. She laughed when she repeated that she would protect him and that not even death could part them. He was crying again, but he didn’t care.
They exchanged rings and then–
Then they were pronounced husband and wife.
Bruce kissed her fiercely. She was so warm against him, soft in all the right ways, and he never wanted to let her go. He wouldn’t ever let her go.
There were cheers around them. Y/n was still smiling, her eyes wet.
“My husband,” she murmured for his ears only. Was it his imagination, or did she glow even more brightly as she said the words?
“Mrs. Wayne,” he said back teasingly, enjoying the way her breath hitched at the name. “Extraordinary woman.”
Y/n was finally his wife. She was his, in every way.
He was never letting her go.
taglist:
@pop-rocks-and-skittles @calumspupils @n1ght5h4d3-24 @keepingitlokiii @11mb0 @illicitghosts @cat-purrsonified @blue-aconite @junggoku @ohheyitsrowan @angxlictexrs @avengersgirllorianna @brynhildrmimi @twilightdollie @p-writes @lady-x-red @xingqiusliegee @scxrletwitches @justine-en @philiasoul @srryxmate @thecherrybombcom @zaminoo
#bruce wayne x reader#battinson x reader#the batman x reader#batman x reader#bruce wayne fic#batman fic#battinson fic#the batman#the batman 2022#robert pattinson#battinson#shadows in the night#sitn#brb crying because it's over
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I posted 2,890 times in 2022
That's 2,890 more posts than 2021!
527 posts created (18%)
2,363 posts reblogged (82%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@beardedmrbean
@hetaari
@magictrio1118
@newhetaliafan
@hondakiku
I tagged 720 of my posts in 2022
#hetalia - 140 posts
#hws - 110 posts
#hetalia memes - 40 posts
#hetalia shitpost - 39 posts
#hetalia x reader - 38 posts
#unhellig 😳 - 34 posts
#hws america - 24 posts
#aph america - 24 posts
#aph prussia - 23 posts
#aph england - 23 posts
Longest Tag: 129 characters
#my tiny nine year old looking ass will totally earn the likings of the five billion 80’s rockstars that i’m sinfully in love with
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
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115 notes - Posted October 1, 2022
#4
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118 notes - Posted July 2, 2022
#3
Random-Ass Hetalia head canons
•Scotland has an unhealthy love for the band CHVURCHES
•Denmark can easily chug down a 159 liter barrel of pickled herring and move on with his day
•Wales has had to explain to America that he is not actually a whale
•Finland can scream-sing (I’ve always appreciated people who can do this)
•Romano was fed up with Veneziano so Romano left him in the Sicilian catacombs for three hours alone.
•Belarus is really crazy flexible (I don’t know why I headcanon this but I do)
•France chugged an entire bottle of perfume while drunk
125 notes - Posted July 20, 2022
#2
Father!Allies X Parent! Reader
PS: I will be giving the kids their names, which will be ones that are common in that country or I thought they sounded nice.
PPS: I know this request was for headcanons but it was easier for me to write short paragraphs.
America:
Child’s name: Milo
“Ow!” Your husband shrieked, causing you to whip your head around.
You expected someone to be seriously injured, but no, the sight in front of you was simple. Milo, your son, had hit his father on the knee with a toy mallet a bit too hard.
“You have healthy reflexes!” The little boy giggled, his baby blue eyes gleaming, “Time for you memicine!”
Milo carefully dumped a small amount of green mystery liquid into a spoon. After finishing his work, the child shoved the utensil into his father’s mouth.
“O-Oh wow Milo.” Alfred gagged, “What is that stuff?”
“Sour slime candy!” He beamed, “And now the hero’s all better! But since this is America your medical bill is $34,000.”
Your husband’s confidence suddenly took him over again, jumping up and setting Milo onto his shoulders.
“The hero will save the day!” Alfred clamored, running around the living room with your laughing little son.
Canada
Child’s name: Addison
You were sitting on the couch, intently watching your husband and daughter bonding with one another.
“So patient, what hurts today?” Addison voiced with a fake serious tone.
“My knee, can you fix it Doctor Addy?” Mathew asked his daughter, glancing at his knee.
Your little girl grinned, “I can fix anything!”
“Now,” She continued, “What you will need is an aspirin.”
Quickly, the little girl broke character and ran up to whisper into your ear, “Don’t worry (mommy/daddy/parent idfk what you want your kid to call you) it’s not really aspirin.”
“Okay honey, I know” You chuckled, patting Addison on the head. She smiled again, and ran back over to her father.
Pulling a peppermint out of her pocket, she began to unravel the plastic covering the pinwheel patterned candy. She placed the candy into Mathew’s hand and watched him chew and swallow it.
“Oh wow I feel much better, thank you doctor!” Your husband applauded, shaking Addison’s itty bitty hand.
“You’re welcome!”
China
Children’s names (they’re twins): Jing and Feng
“Aiyah! Don’t torture your old man!” Yao shrieked, followed by the sound of your two children giggling. Worried about your husband’s well being, you speed walked into the kid’s bedroom.
On the floor, you saw Jing, your daughter and Feng, your son pinning their dad to the ground.
“Are you kids being nice to your father?” You inquired softly, being replied with giggly nods from the small children.
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190 notes - Posted July 10, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
I’m joining the fun!
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468 notes - Posted November 11, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
#tumblr2022#year in review#my 2022 tumblr year in review#your tumblr year in review#i love this so much
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The Deal pt 2
King Alfred x Plus size!reader
Word Count: 1950 words
Warnings:none
Summary: Reader agrees to meet with the King of Wessex, under the condition that if she doesn’t like him, Bjorn will take her back home to Kattegat? But what will King Ivar think of that?
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The evening itself wasn’t meant to be a punishment, though as Lagertha finished lacing the back of this stupid dress, you felt as though you may die.
Never in your life had you worn a garment so constricting and infuriating.
It was torture.
You were a warrior, a fighter that needed as much range of motion as possible and yet, here you were in a corset with a skirt down to the floor. It just wasn’t practical for the life that you led.
However, you assumed that good christian woman rarely engaged in battle the way that you did, so they didn’t need to be able to actually move.
For whatever reason.
“This is all idiotic” you bellowed, huffing as she finished tying the strings. Lagertha laughed, taking in your words with as much grace as she could, though the idea of what you were going through made her physically ill.
Never in her life could she imagine a daughter of Ragnar Lothbrok, married off to some puny king in england. It was insulting to his image.
For a moment, she considered Gyda, her darling daughter who had been taken from her way before her time.
She would have never allowed her to be married off to some christian, far away from her home and her family.
Still, it wasn’t her call to make. Ubbe had made a deal in order to get what he wanted, and nothing was going to change that...not even as much begging as you’d been doing since you found out.
“I agree, but you know your brother, he can be so stubborn” she teased, earning a laugh from you. It was likely one of the last times she would hear it, but she enjoyed it all the same.
The two of you’d had an interesting relationship since the death of your mother. For a while, you shared in Ivar’s opinion of wanting to kill her to get revenge for your mother’s murder but the more time you spent together, the more you understood.
If you were in the position Lagertha was, you would have done the same thing.
You had come to terms with it, but this was something else entirely.
You were talking about giving up your freedom, your identity, and your life.
For the first time in a long time, you wanted Ivar to be here so that he could talk some sense into them, or fight for you. There was no way he would ever make a deal like this with the saxon’s.
Especially not one that forced you to give up the gods.
“Unfortunately, he’s a lot like Ragnar in that way” you agreed, thinking about your father as you looked in the mirror, admiring the features you shared with him, as well as the ones you got from your mother.
You could see his face, shining in your eyes, and that was all you needed to give you the strength to get through this.
If all went well tonight, you’d be on a ship with Bjorn, headed back to Kattegat with all this at your back.
You just had to survive tonight.
~
Your footsteps made funny sounds as you walked down the corridor toward the dining hall. The shoes you had on were far too tight on your feet and made your toes feel odd, not to mention the fact that you hardly knew how to walk in them.
Your dress about got caught under your feet with each unsure step, and you had already tripped against Bjorn three times as he led you toward where the king was waiting.
He had graciously agreed to escort you, so that you didn’t actually die on your way there.
Heels just weren’t something your people ever had the misfortune of wearing and right now, you would kill for your boots.
“Just breath, smile, and be nice” he whispered, opening the door for you.
You turned to reply but found him stopped at the door...leaving you to walk the rest of the way on your own.
The idea frightened you, but you weren’t going to let the saxon king know that. Instead, you picked your head up and walked forward with as much grace as you could muster, which wasn’t much at all.
In fact, you made it about a foot before your dress got caught under your foot and you fell to the ground in a mess of limbs and fabric.
Everyone in the room was unsure of what to do for a moment as you tried to gather yourself. There wasn’t really protocal for something like this, and Alfred, for one was lost.
It wasn’t until his mother urged him to help you that he stepped down from the throne and offered you a hand.
“Are you okay, M’lady?” he asked, shocked further still when you ignored him, your attention focused on your feet.
Without missing a beat, you plucked the offensive article from your foot and tossed it across the room, followed by the other one. The action left you barefoot, and allowed for you to stand on your own.
“I’m not a lady, call me Y/N, or nothing” you ordered, standing without hesitance and taking the hand he offered you. You shook it once, then dropped it to his side.
If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that Bjorn was laughing behind you.
Everyone was understandably shocked by your behavior, but said nothing.
“Alright Y/N, thank you for joining me. Are you alright? That was quite the fall” He commented, trying to check on you, though you found insult in his word.
You had lived through much worse than a little fall. This king really must have been even weaker than you thought. He was pathetic.
“That was nothing, and I wouldn’t have done it, had it not been for those horrible things they put on my feet” You grumbled, taking in the faces of all the people around you.
Their jaws were practically hanging open as they studied you. They thought you were closer to a wild animal than a human, you bet. You could see it on all their stupid, smug faces.
They thought they were so much better than you and your people. How were you supposed to rule them if they wouldn’t even look at you without sneering.
What kind of King would want a savage bride anyway? They must have thought he was out of his mind.
“I do apologize for that, it’s tradition is all” he reasoned, as if that was supposed to somehow make it better. If you were following your traditions in courting a potential husband, there would have been a feast and a sacrifice…
Yet, there was no goat to be found?
Why did you have to follow their silly traditions if they had no care for yours? It didn’t make any sense to you.
“I understand, but I will not ever wear them again” you shrugged, as if it was as simple as breathing. Alfred knew one thing, you weren’t accustomed to being told what to do.
Which was going to make this whole thing a lot more difficult for him.
“And what if I could promise that you do not have to? Would you agree to have a meal with me then?” he asked, understanding that he was going to have to take a unique approach to this whole thing.
Alfred already had enough trouble as it was talking to women, led alone women who didn’t understand half of what he was saying, and already didn’t like him.
At least in Wessex he was the king, so there were certain elements of respect that had to be given to him at all times. But he wasn’t your king, and you didn’t revear him as such, so that respect wasn’t there.
“I would agree, but only if there’s ale” you countered, a slight smile perking up around the corners of your mouth.
It wasn’t much, but it was a start and Alfred could work with that. After all, this whole thing was just as new for him as it was for you and it would take some getting used to for both of you.
~
You recognized a lot of the food at the table where you sat, and didn’t hesitate to fill a goblet full of wine as you waited for Alfred to talk to you about whatever it was he wanted to.
That was the main difference between him and the viking. Viking men didn’t feel the need to fill the empty space ever time it presented itself. Instead, they allowed comfortable silence.
Silence seemed to make the boy king anxious, as if it meant something bad was about to happen. He couldn’t just enjoy the peace that came with long radiating silence.
He constantly insisted on talking.
“So, how are you finding wessex so far?” he wondered, cutting a bit of veal on his plate, his attention focused there, though he occasionally looked up at you as he waited for you to answer.
You weren’t a hundred percent sure how to answer his question, mostly because it was a stupid question. Wessex was nothing like what you were comfortable with, or where you were raised.
The people were cold toward you and treated you like an outsider, and even still, you couldn’t leave.
“I do not like it” you answered finally, just as blunt as the first time you spoke.
It was amazing to him that you didn’t even hesitate when saying something like that. You acted as if it was always better to say what you were thinking, rather than what the socially acceptable answer was.
In some ways, he envied that about you.
“No? And why is that?” he wondered, his meal long forgotten as he focused more and more as the words that fell from your lips.
Again, a stupid question on his part.
“It is not my home. Just as if I was to take you across the sea to Kattegat. You would not like it because it is not your home” you reasoned, getting bored of talking about yourself.
You found that men were most happy when they could talk about themselves and their accomplishment. If there was anything you wanted to get out of this conversation sooner, it would be for the king to be happy.
Though...making him unhappy could result in him taking back his foolish deal with your brother, which would make you happy.
If you could make him not want to marry you, the problem would solve itself.
“Your people think you’re stupid, have you noticed that?” you asked, out of the blue. Your question shocked him, but all Alfred could do was nod. You had a point.
For quite some time, his people had seen him as nothing more than a boy, incapable of ruling over a body of people such as themselves. They thought he was a fool, an imbecile, and even you’d noticed.
“Don’t feel bad, you’re only a boy...it isn’t their fault that you aren’t stronger, smarter or more intimidating” you continued, the insults springing from your tongue without issue.
You weren’t worried about any sort of punishment or repercussion. As far as you were concerned, being forced to marry the man in front of you was the worst thing that could happen.
“You’re right, All the things you’re saying about me are true” he started, momentarily shocking you before he continued. Of all the ways to react, this certainly was a choice.
“That is why I need a strong, capable queen like yourself” he grinned...this was going to be a lot harder than you thought.
#king alfred#vikings#alfred#king alfred x ps reader#king alfred x plus size reader#vikings alfred#alfred x ps reader#alfred x plus size reader#vikings alfred x ps reader#vikings alfred x plus size reader#vikings x reader#vikings x plus size reader#vikings x ps reader
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Get lost with me (Bruce Wayne)
Pairing: Battinson!Bruce Wayne X F!Reader
Summary: Parties aren't Bruce's thing, so when he sees you, an old friend, at a charity event he takes you somewhere more private.
Warnings: smut, 18+, minors dni, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (be safe kids. assume bc is involved in this situation), creampie, chocking, light hairpulling, cursing. Mentions of Bruce being taller than reader, mentions of reader having hair long enough to pull. Very brief mentions of sexual harrassment (NOT from Bruce), spoiler free!
WC: 5.3k sorry not sorry
A/N: took me long enough to write smut for battinson. This deadass took me days to finish but im honestly kinda proud of it. I'm still getting the hang of this Bruce so don't judge me too hard on his characterization.
PS: Battinson requests are still open, so feel free, I promise I'll get to them eventually
Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated!
If there was something Bruce has always absolutely hated was this, fancy parties where Gotham's most elite would gather. He never really saw himself as one of those people. I mean sure, he alone was probably one of the richest men in the world, and it would seem like such a first world problem to anyone else other than him. Because who wouldn't want this? He knew half of Gotham would tear him apart if it meant being in his position for just a night. But to him this was only a superficial part of society. The fancy parties only the important people could attend were only a facade, and it meant nothing to him. He could actually be doing something to benefit the city of Gotham out there. But no, he was stuck here, all night, at some charity event surrounded by people who on the outside looked like high class, but who in reality were dirtier than half of Gotham's thugs. He had Alfred to thank for this one. He practically forced him out of the manor. It would be good to show his face at least once a year, he would say to Bruce. Though from what he knew, this time the host of said charity wasn't a mob boss or a dirty politician putting up the front of charity just to launder their dirty money. He knew this charity was for a good cause so he supposed it wasn't all so horrible.
Still he hated the fact that he had to be here to begin with. He wasn't exactly one to associate and socialize with everyone. Sure, he was a man with manners, he would politely reciprocate any greetings or small talk he would receive. And he would respond to the occasional "Mr. Wayne" being called out. But his head wasn't fully in it, and he would do his best to excuse himself from any conversation anyone tried to start with him, in the most polite way possible of course. And he had accomplished to isolate himself to a more solitary area of the ballroom. But as much as he was not at all interested to engage in the party, he remained vigilant of his surroundings. He took note of anyone he recognized and made himself a mental note of those who he didn't or had just met. And he was blissfully surprised to finally find a familiar face that he didn't mind seeing. You.
"Truly Miss L/N, it would be my pleasure to host you— and your father of course, in my home. Maybe then you could speak to me more about this wonderful charity of yours." Some man, you couldn't even bother to remember his name or who he was, spoke to you as you stood by the bar, leaning uncomfortably close to you as he did. This is exactly why you hated events like these. This was exactly where middle aged high class men would come to gravitate towards the daughter of one of Gotham's most important businessmen. It was nauseating really, the way they almost preyed on someone young enough to be their daughter.
"If you wish to know more about the charity you should speak with my father, he is the one running it. I am just an intern at the hospital the donations are going to." You spoke with disinterest, but with a surprisingly believable fake smile on your face. The man laughed, you didn't even know why. You had to hold back the urge to roll your eyes and you simply drowned your distaste in your alcoholic drink, hoping the kick of it would give you enough willpower to deal with this for the rest of the night.
"Well if I may, I would love to know more about the hospital I'm so graciously giving so much money to, and since you work there, you would be the perfect person to give me more insight, wouldn't you agree?" The man moved closer to you, way too close for your liking and he rested his hand on top of yours. Your eyes unconsciously went wide and your face turned into a disgusted expression. Nope absolutely fucking not.
"Sir uhm I'm sorry I—" you were about to excuse yourself and move away as far away from the man as you possibly could when you spotted a familiar face right over his shoulder. You couldn't hold back the smile that formed on your lips when you saw him. "Bruce?"
You couldn't believe it. You couldn't believe Bruce Wayne was actually there. You couldn't remember the last time you saw him. It had been maybe four years if you remembered correctly. You definitely weren't expecting to see him here tonight. You knew very well that he felt the same way you did about these events. He didn't care for them, and he actually had the choice to decline. So to say that his presence was a surprise to you was an understatement. But it was a very blissful surprise to say the least. You were particularly fond of Bruce, and he was of you. In more ways that either of you ever wanted to admit.
You excused yourself and went straight to Bruce. You hugged him without hesitation, pulling him down to your height by his neck. And surprisingly he reciprocated the action. He placed his hand on the small of your back, his fingers touched your bare skin since the dress you wore was low cut from the back. It gave you slight goosebumps. Ten maybe fifteen seconds went by before you pulled away. And suddenly you had forgotten how tall this man was compared to you. You had to tilt your head up and he had to look almost all the way down for your eyes to actually meet. And as much as you hated to admit, he looked good. His dark hair was longer than the last time you saw him, it fell right over his eyes, as much as he probably tried to gel the strands in place. You kinda liked it. But for some reason something felt different. Something in his eyes. You always knew Bruce was a troubled man, that he had a lot of things that still haunted him, even in his adulthood. But there was a certain coldness in his pale blue eyes, like something else was tormenting him now.
"I honestly can't believe you're here. It is so nice to see you." You smiled, it was so hard to contain your excitement. He always had that effect on you for some reason.
"And you," he smiled, or well, his version of it, his lips were slightly curved upwards, but it was very subtle, it looked more like a grin. He was also eyeing you just you had more seconds ago. You felt hot under his gaze. "It has been a while since we've last seen each other. May I say that you look quite beautiful tonight? Not that you don't usually look beautiful of course, you look as beautiful as I remembered." He chuckled softly, his hair slightly fell over his eyes as he looked down at you a bit sheepishly. This, this was exactly why you were so attracted to him. Because of his charm that would often come out as genuinely awkward but still well intended.
"Oh.. well, thank you," you bit your lip shyly and looked down, very visibly flustered, "You don't look so bad yourself Mr. Wayne. I'm quite fond of the new look, it suits you." If only you could see each other, you must've looked quite pathetic to the rest, standing there looking at each other like two teenagers in a hallway. Clearly that must've been it because you heard a very audible cough and someone clearing their throat, a bit too loud to just be an accident. You turned around to find the creepy older man from a couple of minutes ago standing there with a hard expression, like he was genuinely undignified. You looked back at Bruce, purposely widening your eyes as a cry for help, hoping he would get the hint.
"Senator. Bruce Wayne. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Bruce stepped beside you and introduced himself, as if he even needed to, and stuck out his hand for, the senator you guessed, to shake, his face quickly turning into a serious scowl. The man looked at Bruce for a second.
"Ah.. Yes, Mr. Wayne, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. I hear that's quite difficult nowadays." The Senator said with a concedencing tone as he eyed Bruce up and down with a nasty look. Bruce had the urge to just break the old man's hand, he was very tempted to. But he simply nodded and pulled his hand away and remained at your side.
"Of course, I don't usually have the time to make it to these events unfortunately. But I am glad I made it to this one." He said, the corner of his lip tugged into a half grin as he caught a glimpse of you when he said it. "But anyway, I hope I didn't interrupt anything. I was hoping you wouldn't mind if I stole Miss Y/N for a little while. That wouldn't be a problem, would it?"
"Actually," the Senator looked between you and Bruce, clearly unhappy with the request, but if there was something he didn't need was to piss off Gotham's richest man since Bruce could easily terminate his political career with just one call, so he sighed heavily, presumably having to swallow his pride and simply nodded with a fake smile, "not at all. I will leave you to it. Again, it was a pleasure to meet you Mr. Wayne. And Miss L/N, I hope we speak soon, and I hope you think about my offer."
"Of course Senator. Enjoy the party." You spoke through gritted teeth and a forced smile before Bruce gently took your arm and led you away to a more secluded corner of the ballroom where you could speak freely. Once you were out of most people's eyesight, you shuddered and slightly shuddered your shoulders, almost as if you were shaking off the disgust. "Fucking creepy old man. Jesus Christ."
"What was that all about?" Bruce asked with a small frown on his face and his lips were in a flat line.
"I don't even know. I was at the bar minding my business and avoiding people, as one does, and that creepy fuck came up to me and started inviting me to his mansion, to his yatch, to his office to talk about the hospital and his donations." You scrunched up your face in disgust and shook your head, "had you not showed up he probably would've kept touching me all night. You're my hero."
"You know, I could accidentally spill very red wine on his expensive suit. Or break his hand, or every other bone in his body, anything you want." His voice was low, slightly lower than it usually was. You knew he could fight, that he was trained in every form of self defense possible. But his quiet and calm demeanor didn't strike you as the violent type. So hearing him say that made you look at him with wide eyes. "I'm kidding. For the most part."
You raised an eyebrow at him and leaned closer to him, suddenly a not so public appropriate idea popped in your head, "were you kidding about the part of doing anything I want?"
"No."
"Is that why you're here tonight? I know damn well you aren't one for fancy events like these. And to be honest I didn't even know you were back in Gotham." You questioned him. Last you heard he had been traveling around Europe for the last few years, and it was very rare for him to ever leave the manor now that he was home. So most people didn't even know he was back in the city, you included.
He gave you a slight shrug, "perhaps I was hoping to find you here. I knew your father was hosting the event, and I thought you would be as well, since you work at the hospital now." He explained with a shrug, "Alfred also might've been a contributing factor. He basically forced me to come. You know these events mean nothing to me."
You laughed softly and nodded, playfully shoving his shoulder, "well I'm glad he did. I have to say that Gotham felt pretty boring without you around." Bruce chuckled, if only you knew.
"Are you trying to say that you missed me?" Now he was questioning you, he raised an eyebrow and had a playful grin on his face. He was leaning extremely close to you now, his chest was slightly touching your bare shoulder and you knew that if you looked in his direction, his face would be mere inches away from yours.
"What do you think, Mr. Wayne?” You dared to say. You felt your heart start to pound in your chest when you felt his warm breath fan right over your ear. You knew he was leaning down, he pressed two fingers to your jaw and made you look at him. And his face was in fact mere inches away from yours now. His pale blue eyes burned deep into your own with intensity. Twenty, maybe thirty seconds went by and he didn’t say a word. You saw the way his eyes flickered over your face, reading every part of it. He was always so observant, like he didn’t want to leave any part of you without analyzing.
“I think that, much like myself, this isn’t your kind of scene and you would very much like to get lost for a while. How am I doing so far?”
“Very observing Mr. Wayne, but you’re missing a very critical part of it.” You spoke barely above a whisper. He gave you a surprised hum and his lips parted ever so slightly.
“Unlikely, but please, enlighten me.”
“You’re missing the part where I want to get lost with you. Like we used to do when I was in college, remember?” Bruce laughed softly at the memory, or the idea of it.
“How could I forget? Your father was not very fond of me at the time.” He pointed out with a soft chuckle, the mention of it bringing memories of a time he enjoyed more than he would like to admit. It was a few years before he began his bat activities and before you left Gotham to go to med school, and truth was it was the best he had ever felt with anyone.
“And you blame him? You were fucking his daughter on every surface you could get your hands on.” You reminded him with a smirk of your own, remembering the many instances where you got caught by either one of your parents, or were pretty close to. To say that Bruce had to sneak out your third story window at the time more times than either of you could count was an understatement.
This sparked Bruce a semi smirk of his own, his pale cheeks turning inevitably pink at the mention, “is that what you would like me to do?” Your eyes shot up to meet him with a surprised expression, your face burning hot at the insinuation. Bruce was probably the most reserved and private man you have ever met, but sometimes it shocked you how perverted his mind could be.
“Perhaps. You know I don’t care for parties either.” You bit your lip, unconsciously looking around you, knowing nobody paid attention to your little conversation, but still wanted to make sure you weren’t drawing attention to yourselves in case you decided to get lost for a while.
Bruce, like the man of little words that he was, didn’t say another word, he simply matched your action of looking around to make sure there was no attention drawn to you before he stuck out his hand for you to take. You did so happily, and he led you through the ballroom, he noted a couple of heads turned in your direction as you did, but no one that he should worry about. It took him a second, but he found one of the many restrooms he had spotted when he arrived. He let you go in first, he waited back for a second, once again making sure you hadn’t drawn attention to yourself. Of course, nobody would say anything nor would try to stop you, but his hypervigilant mind would only be at ease if he made sure you weren’t being listened to. After a quick look in both directions of the long hall, he joined you inside, making sure to lock the door behind him. His lips quickly found yours and you were done for. Suddenly you were losing it for Bruce Wayne all over again. He grabbed your jaw and held it in place with one hand as he held you by your waist with the other. It was like no time had passed by, he kissed you with the same fervor and passion he did years ago. And you, of course, matched his energy perfectly. One of your hands rested on the back of his neck and pulled him down to your level as much as you could, needing to have him as close as possible.
He made you back up and didn’t stop until the back of your knees hit the large fancy vanity sink these restrooms usually had. When you did, he pinned you right between the sink and his own body, almost as if he wanted to make sure you had nowhere to go. Not like you’d go anywhere anyway. You didn’t know how long you stayed like this, with his hand on your jaw as he kissed you so hard it took your breath away. And he only pulled away to mimic his intensity on your exposed neck. His lips were so hot and wet on your skin it made you shiver.
“I must say, this is far more entertaining than some charity event,” you spoke breathlessly, your words faltering ever so slightly when you felt his lips latch on to your pulse.
“Agreed.” He hummed lowly, attaching his lips to the skin on your neck. You gasped softly, knowing exactly what he was trying to do.
“Bruce, do not,” you warned, knowing damn well that would leave a mark that wouldn’t fade for days. You heard him chuckle against your skin, his lips lingering for another second or two before he pulled his head up to look at your face.
“All these years and you are still afraid of your father,” he mocked you, he had a straight face, but a corner of his lips was tugged into a small smug smirk. You glared at him.
“You know I hate it when you get all smug right?” You huffed softly, but your breath hitched in your throat when he gripped your jaw again and leaned down to your face.
“No you don’t.” He captured your lips into a kiss one more time before he turned you around without giving you much warning. You had to brace yourself on the vanity so you wouldn’t fall face first into it. Bruce was usually one to take his time, he wasn’t exactly used to getting this kind of intimacy and he liked to savor every minute of it in the rare instance that he did. But this once, he wanted to make quick work of the situation, so you wouldn’t risk getting interrupted. You didn’t mind though, it had been such a long time since you had been intimate with someone, let alone with him, you would take anything he gave you.
You couldn’t really see him, not even in the reflection of the large mirror in front of you, all you could see was the reflection of the top of his black hair. But you soon realized what he was doing when you felt his lips drag along your exposed spine and goosebumps rose in your skin. You gasped softly, the sudden touch catching you by surprise, but it was certainly welcomed. He left a string of kisses along your spine as a way to distract you from the journey his hand was making. And before you knew it, his fingers were dragging painfully slowly up your bare thigh. You could feel them get close to your clothed core, but he wasn’t doing anything.
“Bruce.” You whine softly, knowing he was stalling just to tease you.
“Yes love?” The nickname rolled off his tongue with a gravely low voice that always drove you insane. You whined again.
“Touch me.”
You didn’t have to say it twice. Your panties were torn off so fast you thought he ripped the material. Before you could complain about your possibly ruined piece of clothing, he spat between two of his fingers and pressed them right against your entrance. A quiet moan got caught in your throat when you felt his fingers slowly move up to your clit, spreading the wetness over the bud. He rubbed slow circles over your clit, dragging it out until he could hear your uneven and quickened breaths and only then he pushed both digits into you. It was slow and dragged out, and it nearly had you crying.
“F-fuck.” You choked out, much to Bruce’s pleasure as he pumped the digits slowly, dragging them in and out of your tight walls. He hummed softly at this.
“So tight,” he noted, his lips now lingering over your ear as he snapped his wrist, his fingers curling right over the perfect spot. This incited a moan from the back of your throat. “Are you going to take all of me?”
“Oh God yes—yes.” You said without a second thought, your head starting to spin more and more the quicker his fingers worked. You weren’t exactly thinking of what he had asked you, it got drowned out by the pleasure he was giving you. But it didn’t matter, your response was enough to please him and give you what you really wanted. Him.
He never stopped pumping his fingers, each snap of his wrist made his fingers drag deliciously over your most sensitive spot, and all you could think about was the burn in your lower stomach, how good it felt. You were distracted by it, and the sounds you made didn’t help, so you didn’t hear his belt quickly unbuckle. He had scrunched up your dress as far up as it went, or until he had a perfect view of his fingers working inside you. And before you knew it his fingers had left you, but before you could complain about the sudden emptiness, you were instead met with his cock filling you up.
Bruce stood upright, his head falling back and a pleasured sigh left his lips as he bottomed himself out inside you. It had been a long time since he had felt this, especially with you, and he soaked it all in, the way your walls tightened around him, the way your back arched into him. He sat still for what was maybe ten, fifteen seconds, but felt like an eternity. He was giving you time to adjust. Rightfully so, it had been so long since you had been with him you had forgotten how to handle his size.
You screwed your eyes shut, gripping on to the vanity, bracing yourself before you spoke, “Bruce, p-please.”
You didn’t have to tell him twice. He placed a hand over your shoulder, while he gripped your waist with the other, holding you in place before he drew himself back, sliding half way before rocking back in with a snap of his hips. You cried out, your chest slightly sliding forward despite your grip.
“Did you miss this?” His voice was low, desperate even as he watched you through the mirror with hooded eyes, “did you miss me?”
“Yes.” you choked out, your head hanging as he slammed your body forward again with a particularly deeply slow thrust. You couldn't really see it, but he hummed, and there was the slightest curl of his lips, amused, pleased.
The sound of rapid and quick breaths from his part were quickly drowned out by the sound of your cries and the sounds of skin slapping against each other in quick succession. He adjusted himself, his fingers digged deep into your hip as his other hand gravitated towards your hair, and he pulled you back. You gasped in surprise by the sudden roughness, but you happily welcomed it. You pressed your back flat against his chest, and you were now forced to see yourself in the mirror, and Bruce towering behind you. You grinded down on him, the pleasure burning in your belly and you cried out softly, eyes screwed shut. This incited a low groan from Bruce, whose pale blue eyes were fixated on you. His eyes dragged from your chest, the cut of your dress exposing a good part of your cleavage, sweat starting to glisten your skin. His eyes then moved up to your face, and hell did he love it. He watched carefully the way your face contorted with pleasure, your parted lips and eyes screwed shut. A particularly hard thrust made your head fall forward with a cry.
“Look at me,” his voice was low and rough. You barely opened your eyes only to find the reflection of yourself, looking fucked out, you couldn't help but look away, flustered. “I said look at me.” He huffed and placed his hand right under your jaw, fingers spread out over your throat but not squeezing, just holding your head in place. And your eyes met through the reflection.
“See that?” There was a smirk on his lips and his eyes were gazing down on you, observing, penetrating. “All mine.”
“All yours.” You repeated, the words leaving your mouth before you could even process it, the haze of the moment was getting the best of you. You heard the quiet ‘fuck’ that left Bruce’s lips when you said that, his cock twitching inside you and his eyes rolling back for a second. His head fell over your shoulder and his lips found your neck, just as his hand fell between your bodies, his thumb brushing over your clit. That almost did it for you, he had you so close and he knew it. He rubbed slow but precise circles over your clit as he found a deeper, more precise pace, one that had his cock hitting your most sensitive spot perfectly.
“Nobody else gets to have you like this. Nobody else gets to lay a hand on you.” He said this with a particularly hard thrust, one so harsh it almost made you slip from his grip, almost as if he was trying to prove a point.
“F-fuck Bruce, please, please don’t stop.” You cried out, your back arching just as you felt that familiar burn in your belly.
“Are you going to come for me sweetheart?” He asked, his eyes were fixed on you, and that unblinking gaze had you feeling so small under it. His voice almost does it for you, so rough yet so smooth, you would honestly do anything he asked you in that moment, no questions asked.
You half nodded, you head slightly restrained in place by the large hand on the column of your neck, “Yes—” Your breath hitched in your throat as you tried to keep your eyes open, fixated on his just like his eyes are on you, all you can do now is beg, “Y-yes, please, fuck—” The moan that left your lips was stifled by his lips as another snap of his hips had you shaking, clenching around him as a wave of pleasure hit you like a brick wall.
He held you with a tight grip of your waist as he fucked you through it, slowly dragging himself in and out of you until he had you whimpering against his mouth, “fuck,” he muttered, your walls squeezing his cock. His eyes actually rolled into the back of his head this time, not too far behind you. This gave you the idea to slowly drag yourself over his cock, the sudden wetness making it easier for him to slide in and out of you. And he actually moaned this time.
“Fuck,” it was low, barely audible, but it was there, he was almost there. His thrusts started to become short and shallow, his composure starting to suddenly break. “I’m-I’m going to come. Can you take it all for me love?” He sounded almost desperate. You tilted your head back, a hand running through his dark strands as you pulled him down.
“Please.” You whined against his lips, arching against him and nodded happily. With that, his fingers squeezed your neck ever so slightly as he gave a couple of quick shallow thrusts before his eyes were rolling back into his head and his lips parted as he spilled himself inside you. It was sloppy, messy, everything he was not, and he didn’t care at all. He slouched over you, eyes closed and panting as he sat inside you. You held him, your rapid and uneven breathing matching his.
It was a minute before he pulled himself out of you, and you could feel the combined releases drip down your thighs. Oh well. Bruce slightly tilted his head, catching a glimpse of it before your dress fell over your legs again. He gave you a quiet hum of satisfaction.
“If only you could see that,” he hummed, more to himself than you and he shook his head, pressing a more gentle kiss to your shoulder before he stepped back. He saw the way your head snapped back and you narrowed your eyes at him. He couldn’t help but chuckle, leaning down to press a kiss to your pursed lips before he spoke, “I’ll clean it up, don’t worry love.”
You were hoping yours and Bruce’s sudden disappearance hadn’t caught the attention of anyone back at the party, especially your parents. You were looking at Bruce as you walked back to the ballroom, your arms were linked together and his gaze was forward, his pale skin was still flushed and red, you didn’t even want to know how yours looked. You swore you felt everyone’s judgemental gaze burn into the back of your head.
“Do you think anyone noticed?”
“Unlikely. I don’t think we were the center of attention sweetheart.” Bruce shrugged, catching a small glimpse of you, seeing the utterly guilty look in your face. He opened his mouth to comment on it, but you suddenly stopped dead in your tracks. He was about to question you, but when he faced forward again he was met face to face with your parents. Your mother, who had the same welcoming and friendly expression as always. Your father however, was not all pleased to see Bruce.
“Father, mother.” You greeted them as casually as you possibly could, still holding onto Bruce, who looked like he wanted to grapple his way out of there. Unfortunately he didnt carry gadgets in this suit. “Look who decided to come. What a pleasant surprise right?”
“Ah yes.. Mr. Wayne. Quite the surprise.” Your father said with distaste and a scowl on his face. Oh boy.
“Mr and Mrs. L/N, it is a pleasure to see you again. This is quite the event you got here tonight.” Bruce tried to be as polite as he could, using his manners to his advantage despite feeling like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole, a feeling you shared.
“I wish I could say the same,” your father scoffed softly, eyeing Bruce disapprovingly before his eyes landed on you. That must've brought memories, your lack of lipstick, your hair suddenly down and tangled looking and Bruce looking seemingly disheveled, face still red and hair still tousled. “Y/N, can you explain where you went off to for the last half hour? People were asking about you.”
“Really? Oh.. well, I saw Bruce and we were uh-” you licked your lips, looking up at Bruce with a certain glint in your eyes before you looked back at your father, “we were just catching up. We kind of lost track of time.” Bruce had to look down to hide the small smirk that formed on his lips.
Yeah, lost track of time indeed.
#bruce wayne#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne x y/n#batman#the batman#batman x fem!reader#batman x reader#battinson#battinson x reader#robert pattinson#smut
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Are You Bald?
Summary: An orphan all her life, Y/N is simply too old to remain at The Bowery Home any longer. That is where an anonymous patron has swooped in to send her off to college and all he requires…a monthly letter of her academic progress.
Based off the book and musical “Daddy Long Legs”
Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader
last part // series masterlist // next part
NOVEMBER
Bruce was once again staring at the clock. It was the 30th of November and he wanted that letter. The October one had been multiple pages and he found himself returning to them at least once a week. He’d even wrote notes in the margin of her assignment she’d sent. In the middle of stuffing it into an envelope, he’d realized what he was doing and threw it across the room. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he heard the doorknob start to turn and quickly looked back at the papers on his desk, trying to seem as though he hadn’t anxiously been awaiting Alfred.
The older man placed the letter down on the desk and as soon as the door was shut behind him, Bruce was tearing into the letter:
15th NOVEMBER
Dear Batman,
Listen to what I've learned today:
The area of the convex surface of the frustum of a regular pyramid is half the product of the sum of the perimeters of its bases by the altitude of either of its trapezoids. It doesn't sound true, but it is--I can prove it!
You've never heard about my clothes, have you? Six dresses, all new and beautiful and bought for me--not handed down from somebody bigger. Perhaps you don't realize what a climax that marks in the career of an orphan? You gave them to me, and I am very, very, VERY much obliged. It's a fine thing to be educated--but nothing compared to the dizzying experience of owning six new dresses. After wearing gingham nearly all my life, this is truly a gift I will never forget. Barbara Gordon came with me to pick them out and tell me what looks good on me. Apparently, because of my skin, I must be careful with my dress. This is a different kind of education from the one you planned for me, but it is apparently very important according to Barbara. I have an evening dress, green mull over silk (I'm perfectly beautiful in that), and a blue church dress, and a dinner dress of royal purple, and another of pale yellow challis, and a grey street suit, and an every-day dress for classes. That wouldn't be an awfully big wardrobe for Harriet Kane, perhaps, but for Y/N Abbott--Oh, my! Of course, one dress would have to be yellow, but it's very pale, nearly a cream. I was worried about the green dress with my hair. I feared I would look like a tree of a person, but Babs was right it is a splendid color. Apparently, I have the perfect coloring for jewel tones. Who knew?
I suppose you're thinking now what a frivolous, shallow little beast she is, and what a waste of money to educate a girl? When I started high school, I entered another period even worse than the checked ginghams.
You can't know how I dreaded appearing in school in those miserable poor-box dresses. I was perfectly sure to be put down in class next to the girl who first owned my dress, and she would whisper and giggle and point it out to the others. The bitterness of wearing your enemies' cast-off clothes eats into your soul. If I wore silk stockings for the rest of my life, I don't believe I could obliterate the scar.
LATEST WAR BULLETIN!
News from the Scene of Action.
At the fourth watch on Thursday the 13th of November, Hannibal routed the advance guard of the Romans and led the Carthaginian forces over the mountains into the plains of Casilinum. A cohort of light-armed Numidians engaged the infantry of Quintus Fabius Maximus. Two battles and light skirmishing. Romans were repulsed with heavy losses.
I have the honour of being,
Your special correspondent from the front,
Y/N Abbott
PS. I know I'm not to expect any letters in return, and I've been warned not to bother you with questions, but tell me, Bats, just this once--are you awfully old or just a little old? And are you perfectly bald or just a little bald? It is very difficult thinking about you in the abstract like a theorem in geometry.
Given a tall, rich man who hates girls, but is very generous to one quite impertinent girl, what does he look like?
R.S.V.P.
Staring down at the letter, Bruce felt slightly put-out. The last letter had been nearly five pages. This was just one. One page front and back. What did he care about pyramids? Where was the discussion of her life, of basketball, and Barbara. He’d even take an update on the insufferable Harriet Kane. Throwing the letter onto the desk, Bruce leaned back in his chair and scowled at it.
DECEMBER
19th DECEMBER
Dear Batman,
You never answered my question and it was very important. ARE YOU BALD?
I have it planned exactly what you look like--very satisfactorily--until I reach the top of your head, and then I AM stuck. I can't decide whether you have white hair or black hair or sort of sprinkly grey hair or maybe none at all.
But the problem is, shall I add some hair to your portrait?
Would you like to know what color your eyes are? They're grey, and your eyebrows stick out like a porch roof (beetling, they're called in novels), and your mouth is a straight line with a tendency to turn down at the corners. Oh, you see, I know! You're a snappy old thing with a temper.
(Chapel bell.) 9.45 p.m.
I have a new unbreakable rule: never, never study at night no matter how many written reviews are coming in the morning. Instead, I read just plain books--I have to, you know because there are eighteen blank years behind me. You wouldn't believe what an abyss of ignorance my mind is; I am just realizing the depths myself. The things that most girls with a properly assorted family and a home and friends and a library know by absorption, I have never heard of. For example:
I never read Mother Goose or David Copperfield or Ivanhoe or Cinderella or Blue Beard or Robinson Crusoe or Jane Eyre or Alice in Wonderland or a word of Rudyard Kipling. I didn't know that Henry the Eighth was married more than once or that Shelley was a poet. I didn't know that people used to be monkeys and that the Garden of Eden was a beautiful myth. I didn't know that R. L. S. stood for Robert Louis Stevenson or that George Eliot was a lady. I had never seen a picture of the Mona Lisa and (it's true but you won't believe it) I had never heard of Sherlock Holmes.
Now, I know all of these things and a lot of others besides, but you can see how much I need to catch up. And oh, but it's fun! I look forward all day to evening, and then I put an `engaged' on the door and get into my nice red bathrobe and furry slippers and pile all the cushions behind me on the couch, and light the brass student lamp at my elbow, and read and read and read. One book isn't enough. I have four going at once. Just now, they're Tennyson's poems and Vanity Fair and Sherlock Holmes and--don't laugh--Little Women. I find that I am the only girl in college who wasn't brought up on Little Women. I haven't told anybody though (that WOULD stamp me as weird). I just quietly went and bought it with $1.12 of my last month's allowance; and the next time somebody mentions pickled limes, I'll know what she is talking about!
(Ten o'clock bell. This is a very interrupted letter.)
SATURDAY
Sir,
I have the honor to report fresh explorations in the field of geometry. On Friday last we abandoned our former works in parallelepipeds and proceeded to truncated prisms. We are finding the road rough and very uphill.
SUNDAY
The Christmas holidays begin next week and the trunks are up. The corridors are so filled up that you can hardly get through, and everybody is so bubbling over with excitement that studying is getting left out. I'm going to have a beautiful time on vacation; there's another Freshman who lives in Texas staying behind, and we are planning to take long walks and if there's any ice-- learn to skate. Then there is still the whole library to be read--and three empty weeks to do it in!
Goodbye, Batman, I hope that you are feeling as happy as am.
Yours ever,
Y/N
PS. Don't forget to answer my question. If you don't want the trouble of writing, have your secretary telegraph. Just say: Mr. Smith is quite bald, or Mr. Smith is not bald, or Mr. Smith has white hair. And you can deduct the twenty-five cents out of my allowance. Goodbye till January--and a merry Christmas!
TOWARDS THE END OF THE CHRISTMAS VACATION…exact date unknown
Dear Batman,
Is it snowing where you are? All the world that I see from my tower is draped in white and the flakes are coming down as big as popcorns. It's late afternoon--the sun is just setting (a cold yellow color) behind some colder violet hills, and I am up in my window seat using the last light to write to you.
Your five gold pieces were a surprise! I'm not used to receiving Christmas presents. You have already given me such lots of things-- everything I have, you know--that I don't quite feel that I deserve extras. But I like them just the same. Do you want to know what I bought with my money?
I. A silver watch in a leather case to wear on my wrist and get me to recitations in time.
II. Matthew Arnold’s poems
III. A hot water bottle
IV. A steamer rug, because my tower is dreadfully cold.
V. 500 sheets of yellow manuscript paper
VI. A dictionary of synonyms. (To enlarge this author's vocabulary.)
VII. (I don't much like to confess this last item, but I will.) A pair of silk stockings.
And now, never say I don't tell all! It was a very low motive, if you must know it, that prompted the silk stockings. Harriet Kane comes into my room to do geometry, and she sits cross-legged on the couch and wears silk stockings every night. But just wait--as soon as she gets back from vacation I shall go in and sit on her couch in my silk stockings. You see, the miserable creature that I am but at least I'm honest; and you knew already, from my record, that I wasn't perfect, didn't you?
To recapitulate (that's the way the English instructor begins every other sentence), I am very much obliged for my seven presents. I'm pretending to myself that they came in a box from my family in California. The watch is from my father, the rug from my mother, the hot water bottle from my grandmother who is always worrying for fear I shall catch a cold in this climate--and the yellow paper from my little brother Harry. My sister Isabel gave me the silk stockings, and Aunt Susan the Matthew Arnold poems; Uncle Harry (little Harry is named after him) gave me the dictionary. He wanted to send chocolates, but I insisted on synonyms. You don't object, do you, to playing the part of a composite family? And now, shall I tell you about my vacation, or are you only interested in my education as such? I hope you appreciate the delicate shade of meaning in `as such'. It is the latest addition to my vocabulary.
The Senior girl from Texas is named Diana Prince. I like her, but not so much as Barbara Gordon; I shall never like anyone so much as Babs--except you. I must always like you the best of all because you're my whole family rolled into one. Diana and I and two Sophomores have walked 'cross country’ every pleasant day and explored the whole neighborhood, dressed in short skirts and knit jackets and caps, and carrying shiny sticks to whack things with. Once we walked into town--four miles-- and stopped at a restaurant where the college girls go for dinner. Broiled lobster (35 cents), and for dessert, buckwheat cakes and maple syrup (15 cents). Nourishing and cheap. It was such a lark! Especially for me, because it was so awfully different from the orphanage--I feel like an escaped convict every time I leave the campus. Before I thought, I started to tell the others what an experience I was having. The cat was almost out of the bag when I grabbed it by its tail and pulled it back. It's awfully hard for me not to tell everything I know. I'm a very confiding soul by nature; if I didn't have you to tell things to, I'd burst.
We had a molasses candy pull last Friday evening, given by the house matron of Fergusson to the left-behinds in the other halls. There were twenty-two of us altogether, Freshmen and Sophomores and Juniors and Seniors all united in amicable accord. The kitchen is huge, with copper pots and kettles hanging in rows on the stone wall-- the littlest casserole among them about the size of a wash boiler. Four hundred girls live in Fergusson. The chef, in a white cap and apron, fetched out twenty-two other white caps and aprons-- I can't imagine where he got so many--and we all turned ourselves into cooks.
It was great fun, though I have seen better candy. When it was finally finished, and ourselves and the kitchen and the door-knobs all thoroughly sticky, we organized a procession and still in our caps and aprons, each carrying a big fork or spoon or frying pan, we marched through the empty corridors to the officers' parlor, where half-a-dozen professors and instructors were passing a tranquil evening. We serenaded them with college songs and offered refreshments. They accepted politely but dubiously. We left them sucking chunks of molasses candy, sticky and speechless.
So you see, Bats, my education progresses!
Don't you really think that I ought to be an artist instead of an author? Vacation will be over in two days and I shall be glad to see the girls
again. My tower is just a trifle lonely; when nine people occupy a house that was built for four hundred, they do rattle around a bit.
Eleven pages, you must be tired! I meant this to be just a short little thank-you note--but when I get started I seem to have a ready pen.
Goodbye, and thank you for thinking of me--I should be perfectly happy except for one little threatening cloud on the horizon. Examinations come in February.
Yours with love,
Y/N
PS. Maybe it isn't proper to send love? If it isn't, please excuse me. But I must love somebody and there's only you and Mother Waller to choose between, so you see--you'll HAVE to put up with it because I can't love her.
Bruce felt like a dirty old man. He couldn't stop the picture of Y/N in her robe and silk stockings. He sat in his study, trying to fight off the images. It was too easy to imagine her sitting in his favorite chair by the fireplace in his study while he worked. She would pad in quietly, her messy locks hanging freely over her shoulders, and head straight for his books. Completely ignoring him and yet, it was the definition of domestic bliss.
He shook his head and, too violently, shoved the newest letter with the others. “You keep the letters?” Clark’s voice startled Bruce, not that he’d ever admit it, “You’ve never done that before.”
“They are entertaining. She is studying to be a writer after all.”
“Of course," Clark just smiled like he knew a secret that Bruce wasn’t privy to, "Now, can we go? The host disappearing from his own New Years' party is never a good look. Lois has called for us three times?"
"Yes, fine." Bruce stood up and stared down at the drawer again. he couldn't help but wonder what Y/N was doing to celebrate.
#toomanyrobins#Bruce Wayne#Bruce Wayne imagine#Bruce Wayne x reader#battison#battison imagine#battison x reader#Batman#batman x reader#batman imagine#batfam#batfamily#batfam imagine#dc comics#dcu imagine#✉️
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18+ Jason Todd x fem!reader fic ramble.
Hey, so this is a idea i've had in my head for a while, but it won't leave me alone. I've kinda written the first part of it already? But idk if I'll finish it. I haven't worked out the ending yet either but a couple of lovely people were interested in hearing it so here goes! Thanks for the support! I'll tag you all separately.
Warnings: excessive torture, manipulation, gaslighting, rape, violence. kidnapping, interrogation, Stockholm syndrome, abuse. I dont specifically mention how old the characters are, but B-Man likes to pick them young so use your imagination to age them up a bit if you like. It's dark folks, and a super slow burn, though it might not be so bad written in brief here, but if those bother you it might not be a good idea to read it. (its hidden under the cut - PS it got super long - 2.5k words.)
You are Robin. Or, you were at least.
Batman picked you up out of crime alley, gave you a home and a purpose and trained you up to be one of the best deterrents to the crime in Gotham. You lived in the manor, and thought of Bruce and Alfred (even Dick) as your family. It's awesome and you love it!
Almost two years after donning the cape, something goes wrong. You get split up from Batman and taken by Jokers men. That night is the last night you see the sky for years.
Over the next three years, you are systematically abused, manipulated, gaslighted and tortured until you are a shell of your former self. Conditioned to obey his every whim, you micro dose of the small crumbs of affection Joker has to offer you. He gives you test after test, pushing you to your limit always in new and horrific ways. You don't hesitate when he asks you to shoot someone in the head or to beat someone to death. The consequences of fighting against him aren't worth it, you have learned that the hard way. He even doesn't always lock the door behind him and yet you don't try to escape.
You hate batman with a passion now, you regret ever having met the man, he has ruined your life and it's his fault that you are where you are now. He abandoned you. Used you for his games and then replaced you like you were nothing to him. It broke your heart when Joker showed you the footage of another Robin running along the rooftops. Your replacement. Heartbreak boiled over to fury and rage.
He passes you around his acquaintances, particularly Johnathan Crane who is eager to test his new strain of fear gas out. Under the gas you see the Bat sacrificing you again and again to get what he wants. If Scarecrow takes advantage of you while he has you in a vulnerable state, no one cares enough to stop him. He wants to know who the Bat is, but you know that telling him will put Alfred in danger and you'll do anything to avoid that
(Thankfully the joker doesn't want to know who the bat is, you're not sure you could defy him like that anymore.)
Then one day, a body gets thrown into the small cell you are kept in when joker doesn't want to play. Its a Robin. You panic, fear and anger confusing you while joker laughs in your face. You know it's another test but you can't figure out what the rules are.
This is where the fic starts. It's about Jason Todd's slow descent from a vibrant punk who loves being Robin to the dejected, abused shell of a boy who hates the caped crusader and will do anything Joker tells him. You know it'll happen, because that's what happened to you.
Only, Joker never does the same thing twice. Even if it works. You don't want to get attached to the boy, but birds of a feather and all that jazz.
Highlights (or lowlights) include:
Having to share a small confined cell with Jason.
Arguing about the Joker and escaping
"Don't you want to leave? Crazy bitch."
Finding out that Batman didn't even tell Jason about you:
“Why would he come for you anyway, huh? What makes you so special?”
“I’m Robin. We’re partners. We’ve been through all kinds of shit together. We’re like this.”
“Pah. You really believe it too, don’t you? Ya poor sap.”
“What do you mean?”
“Why go to the bother of finding a dumb punk like you when he can just make a new shiny Robin instead?”
“He wouldn’t do that.”
“He’s already done it. You ain’t the first.”
“That Robin moved away, he’s doing his own thing now.”
“I wasn’t talking about him. I meant the other one.”
“What other one?”
“The other one.”
“There aren’t any other ones – I’m the only other Robin that there’s ever been.”
“You motherfucker!”
Beating the shit out of Jason in a blind rage because he won't stop talking about how Batman will come for him.
“How long have you known Batsy for huh? If you know him so well.”
“Nearly three years. How long have you known him huh? Oh that’s right – you don’t”
“What? Three – Three years?”
“That’s what I said. Look, I know this is scary, but I trust B-Man. He’ll come for me, we’ll kick all these guy’s asses, take Joker back to Arkham and get you out of here too. It’ll be okay, you’ll see.”
“B-Man?”
“Yeah, Batman.”
“Shut up.”
“What? Why?”
“I don’t want to talk about him anymore so shut up!”
Jason finally figuring out who you are when Joker comes to punish you for denting his new toy.
Joker calling you pet names while manipulates you and you being terrified the Joker is going to replace you too
“Oh. Pumpkin, it’s alright. I thought we agreed we were over this, no? Batsy kicked you to the curb a long time ago. It’s old news! This shiny new toy of ours is your replacement.”.
“What? You’re replacing me too?”
“No, no no. I’d never dream of doing something so barbaric, Sweetheart. That’s the Bats’ M.O. You’re mine for keeps. I would never be that cruel, would I?”
Jason taking his anger out on you:
“Why do you hate B and not the Joker? He’s the one that’s doing this to you. He shipped you off to Crane and you didn’t even fight back.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“No, I know exactly what I’m talking about. You’re screwed in the head. You’re a joke, you’ve given up. Some Robin you are. A real Robin fights back. You don’t deserve the title.”
Joker making you put your Robin suit back on to fight Jason for his amusement. Jason hesitates in the beginning but kicks your ass every time.
Jason trying to comfort you but being bad at it.
Joker asking your opinion on you what you think will break the boy:
"When he gets replaced. Show him."
Weeks of being beaten then long stretches of being left alone with Jason with no instructions.
Catching Jason staring at you when he thinks you're not paying attention.
Joker being caught and taken to Arkham so you both get knocked out and transported there too.
Joker ignores you the entire time he's there as he's being watched to closely, the separation sets you off into a panic when you think about it too much.
Most of Arkham is in on you being kept there. The prisoners who know about it are paid off by being able to play with you - and now Jason too.
Jason thinking in Arkham he would have more chance of being able to escape.
You being subjected to more of Crane's abuse and different types of gas.
Jason being brought back to your cell after being tortured by calendar man and offering him comfort for the first time.
Being cut open and tortured by Zsaz.
Huddling up in the abandoned wing of Arkham for warmth and comfort.
Remembering that you had met before, years ago in the Narrows before Batman took you to be his adopted daughter.
Jason taking care of you while you recover.
Giving Jason advice on how to cope and get through the different villains taking revenge on you.
Jason being hurt and tired and snapping at you, causing an argument where you lash out at him:
"I had to go through this all on my own, dickweed. I didn't have anyone to hold my hand and tell me I wasn't going to die. So fuck you! God forbid I try and help your sorry ass."
Jason being tortured by two-face and seeing Batman and a new Robin visiting Arkham. They don't hear him scream for them to help. It breaks his heart and his will to fight.
You knew it would happen, but seeing it first hand makes your heart break for him. You didn't want to be right. You hate Batman more for what he's done to Jason than what he's done to you.
"I was right there (y/n)! Right there and he didn't even look at me."
Talking about Alfred and how much he means to you both.
Thinking you might actually have feelings for Jason after all.
Being transported back to the compound when Joker finally breaks out of Arkham again only to be in separate cells.
Having major separation anxiety from not being able to tell if Jason is okay.
Joker being jealous of your attachment to Jason and doubling down on his control over you.
He tries to take you outside and you panic so badly you beg him to take you back because you're terrified of what being free will mean.
Joker telling you that you failed his test by getting attached to the boy. He tells you that he's going to kill Jason to teach you a lesson.
Being put back in a cell with Jason to find his face has been branded and he's just so utterly void of any hope or any life.
Sitting next to Jason in the cell with your head on his shoulder.
Jason knowing he's going to die without you having to tell him. His voice is quiet and resigned, almost with a shred of relief when he says:
"He's going to kill me soon, isn't he?"
"I'm going to miss you, Jason Todd."
"I'm glad I got to know you, (Y/N). I'm sorry I couldn't get us out."
"It's okay."
You kissing his cheek as you drift off huddled together for the last time.
Joker forcing you to watch as he beats Jason repeatedly with a crowbar, ignoring your defiant cries and struggles for him to stop.
"Which hurts more Little Red? Hmm? Forehand? Or Backhand? I think (Y/N) would like to know!"
Joker blaming you for having to kill Jason:
"And all because of your silly school girl crush. What a waste. I'm very disappointed in you, Dolly."
Being dragged away screaming from his lifeless body and thrown into the back of a van just in time before the building explodes.
That's the first half. For the second half to the ending, I haven't quite figured out yet. I've got a few ideas, but I can't decide what would fit better, feel free to help me out here.
Batman could find her after all this time, new evidence being uncovered during the explosion and in his grief about finding Jason's body he could question that he never actually found yours. Of course then you'd be homicidal and try to kill him, resulting in you being locked in another cell, this time in the Batcave. You'd get to scream at him about all his failings and what a terrible person he is though so that could be cathartic. Alfred (And Dick a little) manages to talk you back to some kind of sanity but you are forever changed by this. You meet Red Hood at a later date: on your way to find an egg and cheese sandwich when someone pulls a gun on you. Seeing you again jars him out of his own homicidal rage long enough to care about the girl who he couldn't save, giving the BatFam an opening to reason with him some.
-Or-
Joker keeps you hidden away and the Bat still has no idea you even exist. It stays that way for two more years where you eventually become completely numb to everything he or his acquaintances do to you. Joker eventually gets bored at the lack of reaction and in his boredom he gets careless. A new vigilante takes it upon himself to blow up to compound and best all Joker's men, he escapes but the vigilante doesn't chase after him and instead he finds you. You resist his attempts to save you, knowing how angry Joker will be so instead, Red Hood punches you in the face, knocking you out. He carries out into the night and you wake up somewhere new and he tries to help unravel the fuck ton of issues you've got while dealing with his own. He'll probably enlist the BatFam to help once he's done wanting to kill them, unless you can talk him into killing the Bat together, after the Joker dies of course.
-Or-
One day, maybe a year after Jason dies, Joker decides he's bored of you and gives you one last curveball. After more than 6 years of being isolated and abused, you wake up in an alley on the streets of Gotham, alone. Abandoned again. After several panic attacks and not knowing if it was a test and that you should run back to the Joker or going to find Alfred because he's the only person in the world left that you trust, you decide to leave Gotham altogether. You make it out and somehow navigate your way to having an apartment, a job and even a quiet life in Bludhaven, away from the Bat and the Clown and the nightmares. Except that one day, while you're drinking your morning coffee in a café, Dick Grayson sits down opposite you. You're stable enough not to react immediately, and Dick seems to really care that you're alive and well. Turns out that the Bat found out about you and decided to leave you alone this whole time (which only serves to double down on your feelings of abandonment) Only the joker is out of control and they think that you could help them by giving them an insight into how the joker works. They've got a new Vigilante to deal with too so they're stretched pretty thin. You flat out refuse which is when it turns out it really wasn't a request. You are taken back to Gotham and confronted with the BatFam, helping them reluctantly when Red Hood breaks into your new apartment, demanding information. You argue, and it feels too familiar, setting off a panic attack when he ribs you about your complicated relationship with the Joker. Identities are revealed and you work together to take down the Joker.
The epilogue to this saga would be some time after any of those options.
Both you and Jason finally in a healthier place where you can actually acknowledge what has been growing between you two since you were paired together all those years ago. It's not a neat and tidy happily ever after, it's messy and full of arguments, fears and misunderstandings but it's also full of tenderness, softness and love. And the sex is really good too.
-
If you got this far, thanks for reading! Let me know what you think? Come chat to me anytime!
#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#dc imagines#jason todd imagine#jason todd#dc comics#dark fic#18+#joker#TW
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I'm so glad you'll still be around if something happens to this hellsite 🥺❤️🙏 You're an inspiration and everything you write turns to gold as far as I'm concerned.
Ps: do you have any sneak peeks as to what we can expect in the future? 😏
🥺 thank you. You’re too kind.
I actually have 3 things posting this week and all 3 of them have a theme and this meme is a clue. I apologize in advance 😚
On aNother note lol
I’m also writing a series and have written 2 parts out of 3 about ‘what if Jason also had a batgirl to his Robin?’ The parts are about 3k each so a good novelette about it which is different for me cuz I’m chronically a short writer. And funny enough I set this up gosh months ago but it follows a similar age schedule to Invisibleanonymousmonsters lastest series with Damian x poison Ivy daughter series (that I highly recommend). There are parts that show becoming batgirl, losing Jason, and him coming back which I found funny to be pretty close in age grouping to her series but otherwise completely different lol but I like what I have written on it so far.
I have a ton of half written work. I have 114 drafts. That’s not a joke. That’s literal. 🙈 some of them I need to finish are
Jason todd x batgirl reader
Clark kent brings the reader home to the farm for a festival.
Jason todd and the joys of cooking
Tim drake in a series of interesting events ends up with a sugar baby
Reverse robin Tim first ideas that are like plot bunnies including Bruce taking feral Damian and Dick to the mall.
A what if Garth actually needed to be in water every hour like they wrote in the silver age.
Alfred is an international spy and lover story set in the cool ass 1960s.
Scarecrow horror movie that I’ll probably post on ao3 in the future because that stuff doesn’t do well here.
Damian horror story featuring Talia as a good mom.
A few stories where I kill off bad characters that deserve it like I did the joker with Jason.
Roy and Jade and the reader all end up at one of Lian’s school event and it’s awkward and funny.
Tell me what you think. Laugh or yell at me. I love that meme 😂🤣
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Peace | Damian Wayne
Pairing: Older!Damian Wayne x Female!Plus Size Reader
Characters: Damian Wayne, Reader, Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown, Jason Todd, Cassandra Cain (mentioned), Bruce Wayne (mentioned), Alfred Pennyworth (mentioned)
Word Count: 7k
Request: i have this idea but im not a good writer so i want to request for you to do it: ps reader is dating tim and lately sex isnt great so he invites one of his brothers (the closest in age so probs damian) to have sex with her but she doesnt know and damian doesnt know she doesnt know and when he finds out hes embarrassed and all of that? fluffy ending with damian.
Warnings: angst, mentions of sex, suggestive themes, lying, mentions of hypothermia, brief talk about consent, self-doubt, fluff.
A/N: I got a little carried away with this... I hope you all like it, Damian is one of my favorite characters in general so it was great being able to write for him.
❖︎・・・・・❖︎ ・・・・・❖︎ ・・・・・❖︎
Cursing under your breath, you fixed your scarf as you waited to be received. The snow under your boots too out of ordinarily dense— Alfred always demanded the entrance to be free of snow. Upon making that observation you grew worried, the only occasions Alfred didn’t pay mind to those details where when an emergency was occurring and by the tone of the call you got minutes earlier, you couldn’t assume things were going.
They pulled the door open and left it that way so you’d walk yourself inside. Never a positive indication. You recognized the steps walking away from you like Jason’s, his presence in the manor so rare that you hurried in. Catching up with Jason was always hard, his strides were big and the fact that you were freezing didn’t help your situation at all.
Jason held the door to a sitting room open for you, looking at you with sympathy, bordering in pity; Tim had obviously told him you weren’t dating anymore. You thanked him, scanning the place to try to asses why had you been summoned. Swallowing your spit at the sight of Stephanie just beside Tim, you cleared your throat to not interrupt whatever they were doing.
You weren’t stupid, there was something between them. Although it hurt, you had nothing against either of them— it relieved you to know Tim had been honest and loyal throughout your relationship and if his happiness was with Steph, so be it.
Your ex-boyfriend pointed to one of the unoccupied cushioned armchairs, next to the one Jason had just sat on. You took your seat, your eyes dancing from Tim to Steph, to Jason. Tim sighed, “we need your help.” He sounded tired, more than usual, worried.
Nodding, you moved a hand to prompt him to explain what was going on. Tim looked down, Jason shifted beside you. “What’s wrong?” you asked, your nerves spiking up.
“Damian disappeared,” Tim explained. You turned to Jason, hoping he’d give you more telling, but he avoided looking at you.
“And how can I help? Is Bruce informed? And Dick?”
“Yes, he’s fine, but he doesn’t want to talk to us— not even with Alfred. He will talk to you.” Tim removed his hair from his forehead, sighing again— a sign you knew well, one of nervousness— “at least I hope.”
“So you know where he is?”
Tim nodded. Jason’s exasperated sigh didn’t go unnoticed by you. Before you could ask, the oldest of the two brothers spoke, “tell her, Tim.”
Tim picked his mug, mumbling something inaudible on the lip of it and taking a long gulp. You felt yourself starting to tense up, many occasions you had seen your ex-boyfriend do that and it always led to a clash.
He put the drink down on the table, “Remember the last time we had sex?”
How could you forget? You had assumed your relationship was getting better after a bad month. He had been so attentive that night, so passionate— his lips hadn’t left an inch of your body untouched, he had shown to have listened to what you had suggested weeks prior and blindfolded you, Tim had shown you a side of him you didn’t think to exist. He hadn’t been too extreme but he had definitely been rougher than ever, tying your hands and eating you out quite harshly even though he usually avoided giving you oral sex. Now you saw it as a passionate goodbye, it saddened you because it had been the best sexual experience you ever had but it was what it was.
“Yeah,” you rasped, uncomfortable by speaking about it in front of other people. “Why?”
“I– promise me you won’t get mad.”
Stephanie shook her head which made you realize you would definitely get mad. Scenarios crossed your mind, had he recorded you without your consent? Did he have an STD and didn’t tell you at the time? Did you have an STD you didn’t know about and passed it to him?
“What did you do?”
Tim licked his lips. “It wasn’t me. I should’ve told you, but I didn’t know how... it was Damian, I t—“
“You did what?!” you blurted a yell.
He lifted a hand to prevent you from interrupting so he could finish justifying himself. You shook your head, standing up. Your nerves were eating you alive, Damian Wayne had seen you naked and there was nothing you could have done to prevent it!
“Why the fuck did you do that, Timothy?”
He watched you, trying to find the words that would make you less mad. “I didn’t know what else to do! You were upset and... look, I knew Damian liked you so I told him you wanted to try new stuff.”
“You didn’t ask me...” you trailed off, feeling everyone staring at you. Embarrassment was an understatement, your ex-boyfriend was telling you he made his brother have sex with you without your consent and from what you gathered the entire family knew. Snatching your purse, you stormed off the room. You ignored their calls for you to get back in the same way Tim had ignored your opinions and wishes.
On the way to your apartment, you couldn’t help but wonder what else had he lied about, which things hadn’t been real. It was a nightmare, now doubting the best romantic memories you had to even be real. Everything reminded you about your relationship with Tim, the elevator where you had shared your first passionate kiss, that centerpiece on the coffee table he bought for you when he went out of the country for a business trip, the couch and how many times you cuddled there...
You didn’t wish to enter your bedroom even though it hadn’t been difficult to do it when he moved out. You had been so understanding, somewhat naive, you didn’t question him further on when he said the relationship wasn’t working. It hurt, but your consolation had been his honesty, one you now knew to have been false.
You laid down on the couch, facing the ceiling. What a way to spend a Friday evening, in anguish for an ex. Letting it affect you pissed you off, but you were human after all and he had betrayed your trust. As you continued to think about it, the situation turned worse.
From Tim’s family, you were the closest to Damian and Cass. Everyone was nice and kind, even Bruce whom you had found intimidating the first few times you interacted with, but Cass and Damian were special in their own peculiar ways. You had been told you were lucky to have met Damian as a grownup, he had even agreed although you were never given a proper explanation, and it had taken you a few tries to find things to have in common with Cassandra but when you got there your friendship with her became one of the highlights of your life.
Now you wouldn’t be able to look at your friends in the face. Maybe Cass wouldn’t judge you, but Damian had every right to do it. He had seen every inch of your body, touched it with both his hands and mouth, he had been inside you— and it had been the best night of your life.
Buzzing startled you, the vibration of your cellphone against the wooden table annoying you to no end. Extending your arm, you declined the call without looking at the screen. The device buzzed again, now in your hand; reading the caller’s name, you pondered on your options— you could turn the cellphone off and risk Dick breaking into your apartment or pick up. A hard decision, you didn’t want to talk about anything with anyone.
Deciding to get it over with, you picked up at the last ringing. “Hey, Dick.”
“(N/N)!” you could hear the relief in his voice, “Jay told me you left the manor very upset.”
“Yeah... what do you need?”
Dick exhaled very loudly, making you wince, “it’s Dami... he doesn’t want to talk with anyone. Jon tried, Alfred tried, Cass tried, I tried...”
“I can’t help you.” You didn’t feel ready to face him, you weren’t even sure you were ready to process what had happened. “Give him space, Dick, he needs it.”
“I’m worried. He never shuts himself off so drastically...”
Yeah, you knew. “I’ll text him.”
“He didn’t take his phone. But you know in which safe house he is.”
❖︎・・・・・❖︎ ・・・・・❖︎ ・・・・・❖︎
Crazy, you were fucking crazy for going out in the middle of the night. It was freezing outside, the fog from the cold and sleet making it harder for you to see in the dark. The Wayne family would be responsible for your death, you were sure, good thing Bruce was rich so he could at least pay for your funeral.
You fixed the hood of your jacket, sleet tapping against the material as you continued your walk. Your hands were numb, the gloves not really warming them up. Driving hadn’t been an option, it was too dangerous and your eyes were too tired from crying.
The streets got darker as you approached your destination, your harsh breathing getting louder. The smoke coming out of your mouth because of the cold was the only indicator of life around you, your steps having to be slower in order for you to not trip only another reminder that you could’ve been under your warm covers. You continued complaining, inwardly, with your nerves about to burst until you recognized the front of the property.
Punching the code at the gates had been harder than you anticipated, with your fingers nearly rigid. The front lawn was in perfect condition as it always did, but the lights were off. You walked up the front steps out of memory like Cass had taught you to do. Lifting your fist, you let it linger on the air for a few seconds, unsure.
It was the right thing to do, you were freezing and going back would mean definitely dying from hypothermia, and yet you weren’t ready. It terrified you more than being kidnapped which had always been so plausible in a city as dangerous as Gotham and with the acquaintances you had. Facing it meant closing a cycle, and closing the cycle would mean having to start again...
Resigned, you knocked twice, made a pause, then knocked twice again. You couldn’t hear any sound coming from inside, but that didn’t mean much. The door cracked open, an annoyed sigh greeting you as a green eye peeked from inside. Damian swung the door open and took you by the wrist, pulling you in with ease.
The entrance was locked as soon as you were inside, his fingers still around your wrist as with his other hand he made sure every lock was on.
“What were you thinking?” Damian snapped. “It’s freezing outside!”
You snatched your wrist off his grip, dying to get your backpack off your shoulders. “I was worried about you.”
“You could’ve died.”
“I couldn’t sleep! I was worried, Damian.” He hated when you repeated things, you shouldn’t have done it at that moment when he was so annoyed but you were annoyed too, and tired, and cold, and worried, and confused, and scared.
“I heard you the first time. Why didn’t you at least drive here?”
“You would’ve scolded me for driving under this weather.”
He took a proper look at you. Damian was good at reading you, your body language, the tone of your voice. There were four persons he knew like the back of his hand: Bruce, Talia, Dick, and you. “You’ve been crying...” it wasn’t a question, nor a prompt to explain yourself. He made the observation, tore his eyes away from you and stepped back.
You were sure he knew by now Tim had told you. There wasn’t any other reason why Damian would suddenly be so tense, not with you. You knew him very well yourself, not to the point he did with you but that came with the training you had never even imagined could exist. There were things, however, Damian didn’t pay attention to about himself that you did— his inclination toward sweet and savory desserts, for example, or the way he hid behind his clothes when anxious, the changes in his voice when in presence of an animal, how his eyes sparkled when he spoke about medicine.
“What did he say?”
“Who?”
“You know damn well who.”
Damian didn’t like losing time, you should’ve also remembered that. “Just what happened that night,” you mumbled, his jaw setting when you didn’t elaborate on it.
“Did you appear here to tell me you hate me?” he surprised you by asking.
You couldn’t help but frown, no matter how frustrating it could be to him. Damian would always tell you frowning didn’t suit you. “Why would I hate you? You didn’t know.”
“You didn’t know either,” he refuted. “That’s not how consent works.”
“I’m aware that’s not how consent works!”
“Then?” Damian pressed, standing perfectly straight. “Why don’t you hate me?”
“Why do you want me to hate you?!” you squealed. You could only imagine that it would be better for him if you hated him so the topic wasn’t touched upon ever again, but you could never hate Damian.
He lifted his arms in exasperation, “because I should’ve asked you at that moment! I shouldn’t have listened to Drake! I shouldn’t have let m—“ he stopped himself abruptly, right hand flying toward his forehead. He rubbed his face, huffing through his nose.
“What? You shouldn’t have let what?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me,” you encouraged him, “it can’t be worse than my ex-boyfriend implying to me in front of his new girlfriend that instead of straight-up telling me he didn’t want me anymore he convinced my close friend to fuck me.” Oh, wow. It sounded worse when you said it out loud— it didn’t even sound real, it couldn’t be, it shouldn’t.
Damian stood there, silently avoiding you. His eyes were solely focused on the wall in front of him, face neutral. How much time passed wasn’t relevant, you were too lost in thought to realize or care. He wouldn’t say anything, and you wouldn’t press on the subject anymore when you had been humiliated so badly. Going there was a mistake, worrying was a mistake, telling him anything had been a mistake. Just like he thought he should’ve done things differently, you were sure you shouldn’t have risked confrontation. Perhaps what annoyed you the most was that he seemed to want you away from him as you had predicted he would, and it hurt way more than what Tim had done.
You hunched down to pick up your backpack, dropping it again when he cleared his throat. “I didn’t require convincing.”
Believing to have understood his words wrong, you stared up at him through your lashes. Tim’s words came to you, ”I knew Damian liked you.” When he said it you had assumed he meant Damian liked you as a friend but not that Damian Wayne liked you. It didn’t sound bad, just highly unrealistic.
He didn’t repeat himself nor furthered his comment, he just stared back. The yellow tones in his green eyes got more prominent the longer you stared, looking like sunlight warming the prettiest forest you’d ever seen. You straightened your back as you shifted on your feet, not sure of what to say.
“Why didn’t you—“
“Say anything?” he interrupted you. You nodded. Damian shrugged, eyes again diverting from your face, “Drake always gets what I want, I wasn’t even surprised.”
You hated the way he said it, so upset his amalgamated accent turned thicker. You were at loss of words, you had never seen him that way— not because you didn’t think he was handsome but because he was Damian Wayne, your close friend, a guy way out of your league.
“I wish you had said something, but I understand.”
Damian lifted both eyebrows. “Would it have changed anything?”
“I don’t know,” you told him honestly. It was so easy to be truthful with him, so freeing.
“You looked happy.”
Tim understood many things without needing an explanation. His body was different from his friend’s and family’s so he never judged yours, he’d remind you there was nothing wrong with being the way you were so often that you had started to believe it. You could put up with the nights of worry and the fights that came with his carelessness because you felt loved and accepted and wanted to give him just that. Tim had been great up until that early afternoon.
And Tim wasn’t Damian. Tim didn’t have time to put up with your rants, he was a detective by day and vigilante by night. Tim couldn’t be there every time you needed company after a bad day, Tim in his sleep-deprived state forgot important dates and details. You had always admired the way Damian’s brain worked, how efficient he was, but you had never stopped to ask him how was he able to do that; it hadn’t even crossed your mind that he could be doing a sacrifice because he cared about you.
“I was.”
Silence filled the living room. Damian had his back against the wall and his arms crossed over his chest, your fingers brushed the strap of your backpack as you wiggled them to keep them from cramping. He had the ability to bend everything over his will, his mood could change yours in seconds, his stance stirred rooms. You felt the temperature dropping, not sure if it was physical or metaphorical, and wondered if it wouldn’t be better to leave.
You didn’t want to leave. Everyone would call you crazy, but Damian’s presence had always been comforting. His silence, his bluntness— you were scared of losing that, how clearer he made things when you were confused, how much you learned from him. Things would never go back to normal, your friend liked you for some reason and you didn’t know what to think about it, he had seen you naked without you even being aware, and it seemed like he hadn’t hated what he saw. But leaving was the best option. You were confused, overall scared, and Damian couldn’t be of comfort at that moment— he shouldn’t.
Zipping up your jacket, you let out a sigh. “Just go home, man. Your family is worried.”
His low hum caught your attention. Expecting him to say something else would’ve been losing your time, Damian wasn’t a fan of being told what to do. However, he snatched his coat from the hanger and slid it on. Damian took his car keys and wiggled them, wordlessly telling you he’d drive you.
You tried to protest, using the fact that it was past 7:00 AM already. Damian wasn’t having it, it was still cold outside. You were desperate to get home already, you needed time with yourself and the sooner you got it the better.
The silence between you two not being uncomfortable throughout the ride was astounding. It felt colder in the car than back at the safe house, probably because the sleet hadn’t ceased but mostly because you were on edge. He didn’t attempt to talk nor to do anything else then drive really, he looked calm as always, so collected it unnerved you. You considered for a moment that he had simply told you what he did out of pity then discarded the thought because Damian wasn’t like that.
In any other situation, you would’ve found curious how deeply you knew him, but it was starting to scare you. One thing was being aware of what your friend liked or disliked but not even self-sabotaging your thoughts because you knew them that well was in the highest level of knowledge about someone. It meant you thought about him more often than you had ever cared to admit, more than you had ever realized.
You had so much to ponder on, to worry about. How long would it take to close the cycle of your relationship with Tim when now you weren’t sure if it had been honest or not? Would your friendship with Damian be ruined by what happened plus his attraction toward you? Were you attracted to him?
In the apartment, the silence was different, deafening. The place felt bigger than it was, bigger than it had felt when you left in the middle of the night. Unfolding the blanket you always kept on the couch, you wrapped it around your body and curled up with your head on the arm of the furniture. You also turned the tv on, hoping the noise would help you get some sleep.
Nothing helped, your mind wasn’t letting you rest. It insisted on replaying Damian’s unwavering tone when he said he hadn’t needed convincing. You probably wouldn’t have needed convincing either if Tim had asked you to fuck his brother, but it felt... wrong. Saying you had internalized your attraction toward Damian to protect yourself was an understatement, the potential rejection was scary but it wasn’t in the top five of the things you feared in relation to him— and that only proved you actually liked him back.
Conflicted was putting it lightly. If someone would’ve asked you the morning before if you had feelings for Damian Wayne you would’ve laughed, now you couldn’t take the idea off your mind. Processing it all would require time, the comfort he gave you, the confidence, seemingly the pleasure— you were seeing him in another light, and the worst part of it was that you weren’t startled by it.
Finding natural to be attracted to someone you had never seen that way before wasn’t how you expected your week to start.
You assumed Damian had eventually gotten back to the manor, your phone hadn’t buzzed too much throughout the weekend apart from a few messages in your friend’s group text. A nice contrast with your mind which was reeling from Friday and your newfound passion.
Was it just passion? You didn’t know, you weren’t sure of wanting to. Damian had started to consume all your thoughts and feelings, your dreams too— the anger you had felt from finding out Tim hadn’t been the one to pleasure you that night had dissipated by the second morning you woke up soaking wet due to a dream. It obviously had more to do with your libido than with anything else, but the new perspective was better.
Seeing it that way made you feel dirty. If you closed your eyes and let your mind wander back to that night you now could see Damian hovering over you, the greenest eyes you had ever seen staring into your soul with dilated pupils— you could picture the smirk you had felt against your skin as he nipped on your thigh. He was driving you crazy without knowing it, but him knowing terrified you.
❖︎・・・・・❖︎ ・・・・・❖︎ ・・・・・❖︎
Taking alone time for yourself was the best decision you could’ve taken. You didn’t find all the answers nor closure regarding Tim and you felt really lonely, but you decided to focus on what you could— it gave you perspective, about Damian, about your interpersonal relationships in general, what you wanted, what you enjoyed.
Damian hadn’t contacted you. It would’ve bothered you if you weren’t so familiar with him. He wouldn’t call until you showed signs of wanting to talk, he was too busy to beg— and even if he wasn’t, Damian Wayne never begged.
When ready, you texted your group chat with Damian and Cass as nothing had happened. Both texted you individually about very different topics as they always did, it was something you thoroughly enjoyed about them.
Damian’s answers were quicker than usual, yours shorter. You didn’t want things to be awkward between you two, but you didn’t really know what to say; or if you should say anything about what had happened.
What if not speaking about it was for the best? You liked him, the realization of it scared you to no end, and he liked you back. He fucking liked you back, why or how only he knew, but the fact that he did felt good yet it mingled with guilt. He was Tim’s brother, and although your ex-boyfriend hadn’t had consideration toward you, you felt bad.
Damian took over your thoughts, as you did house chores, as you worked, as you went out with your other friends... now you missed him in a way you had never missed anyone. His annoyed sighs, his tutting, his interesting topics of conversation, how funny he could get to be, his handsome face, his silky voice...
And so you texted him, asking if he was busy. He didn’t reply, at least not in the next five minutes. You turned the device off, not wanting to continue hopefully staring at it. Some would say it was childish, but you genuinely weren’t in the headspace to be rejected.
Pounding on the front door took you out of the tv show you were watching. Untangling yourself from the fuzzy blanket, you dragged your feet against the floor.
Damian slid past you as soon as you swung the door open, his steps more silent than ever as he analyzed the living room. His eyes stopped on the pile of folded clothes next to the couch for a prolonged moment before he continued what he had been doing.
You locked the door, estranged by his actions. “Are you looking for something?” you asked, the crack of your voice caused by how little you had used it that day making you wince, he’d surely realize.
He glared at you from behind the arch of the kitchen. “I thought you were in danger.” Before you could say something, he spoke again, “what happened to your phone?”
“Nothing.” You picked the cellphone from the center table and turned it on to show him.
Damian inhaled deeply, clearly keeping himself from snapping at you. He walked back to the living room, shaking his head once or twice while mumbling something in Arabic, and leaning against the wall just next to the window from where he could take a peek of the mostly white snowy street.
You went through your phone to avoid the tension between you two. The second worst idea you had that day, the first being texting him. You had multiple texts from him, a few from Dick, missing calls from the entire family. In your attempts to not get your heart broken you didn’t stop to think how it would seem to Damian if you suddenly stopped responding after asking if he was busy.
“Why are your clothes in the living room?” his inquiry bounced against the window glass.
You stayed quiet, he’d surely get the hint you didn’t want to talk about that.
He did get the hint, he also ignored it. The least you could do, in his mind, was answer his questions after worrying so bad. “(Y/N)?”
Lying to Damian was so hard you didn’t even try it. “I’m not using my closet anymore,” you explained, looking for the remote to turn the TV off in order to have an excuse to not look at him.
In contrast, he focused on you. You were now folding the blanket to keep your hands busy, fixing the pillows on the couch so it would look in the same fashion it always did.
“You’re not sleeping in your room.” Damian wasn’t sure if it came off as a question or an observation but it was the latter.
You shook your head, inwardly, and uselessly, begging he’d drop the topic at that. You were ashamed to accept what happened was affecting you, and even more ashamed by the fact that it was affecting you in ways you never expected. His silence was worse than being alone, there he was with his arms crossed once again, jaw clenched, and attention out of the window. You considered turning the TV back on just to feel less uncomfortable, less exposed.
Connecting the dots wouldn’t be hard for anyone aware of the situation. You should’ve said something, explain it didn’t have to do with him— not negatively at least— but you were too nervous, almost on edge which was getting too frequent for your liking.
Willing him to say something, you focused on him as if the intensity of your gaze would make a difference. He was already watching you like a hawk, analyzing every twitch. Damian uncrossed his arms, his palms slapping against his thighs as he pushed himself off the wall. “I’m sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” you assured him. Masking how surprised you were by his apology had been hard, probably pointless when he knew you so well.
“It’s no excuse.”
“Damian, please.” Your voice got smaller, the last word coming as a mere whisper. Speaking about it terrified you, he was right and you wished it wasn’t the case— you had tried to ignore the fact that he hadn’t given you his consent either and you didn’t have a way to know if he had enjoyed himself. The longer you thought about it, the dirtier you felt.
You were angry at yourself for not having known better, at Tim for not being honest... but you weren’t mad at Damian. Should you have been when he was almost as unaware as you? Wanting to be sure, to at least have some closure, you asked, “when did he tell you the truth?”
“The night before he told you.”
“Why do you feel so bad about it, then?”
He sighed shakily, dropping his head forward. He hoped that if he stared long enough the floor would open and swallow him, it would be way better than having you hear the truth. “I can’t stop thinking about it,” he explained, eyes on the same spot they had been for the past couple of minutes. He heard your breath hitching, the swallow of your spit. Damian braced himself to be slapped when he heard the thud of the blanket being dropped on the cushioned arm of the couch.
“I’m sorry about that.”
“What?” Damian’s gaze snapped upward, completely lost as to why you could be apologizing.
You clarified what you meant, “I’m sorry you had to see... me.”
“You idiot! I don’t mean it in a bad way.” Damian hated how insecure you could be, he knew it to be natural in an environment where people believe their personal standards to be the norm but it was horrible to see. He had tried his best to make you understand there was nothing shameful about your body but it seemed like he had failed. “It’s not...” he groaned, straightening his posture. There went nothing. “I feel guilty because I get turned on thinking about it.”
Oh. Well, at least you weren’t the only one who thought about it constantly. The days consequent to that night hadn’t been easy, the break up had come too soon and the only thing you had as consolation was that night. The fact that you had touched yourself while thinking about Damian without knowing was weird, it felt intrusive and at the same time thrilling— adding it to the fact that then you had wet dreams about it wasn’t a good look. Or yes, who knew at that point? Surely not you.
“For what it’s worth, me too.” Your face was burning up as the words left your lips. Your sex life wasn’t something you talked about with Damian, and when you did it with Cass you spared her the details because she didn’t like hearing about Tim in that way.
“But you didn’t know it was me,” he reminded you, and himself.
You made a face, “I don’t really care that much... it sounds bad but I don’t. It was my first orgasm in months.”
Damian stepped closer, naturally towering over you. You gazed up, trying to make sense as to what he was doing. “Am I reading this wrong?” he inquired in a whisper, fingers flexing to stop himself from touching you.
“No.”
He cupped your face with a hand, his freezing cold fingers making you shudder. He leaned in slowly, leisurely, his breath hit your skin and his nose brushed yours but he still didn’t kiss you— not yet. Arm snaking around your waist, he licked his lips. You couldn’t take it anymore and closed the gap, moving your lips against his as your hands rested firmly on his shoulders to not lose balance.
Kissing Damian was an experience, there wasn’t any other way to call it. He wasn’t in a hurry, his tongue had just tickled your mouth open but he hadn’t made a move to deepen the kiss. The heat from his body didn’t feel human, it transferred to your insides— it made butterflies swarm around in your stomach. For someone who hadn’t known they were attracted to their closest friend, your body was reacting as if you had been longing for that moment your entire life. You felt like floating, with his arms around your waist and neck respectively and his tongue tickling yours.
You didn’t want to part from him, oxygen was getting scarce and you found yourself thinking you’d rather die than stop kissing him. He found a good middle ground, recovering his breath with his right cheek against your left one. Inhaling your perfume in the process, he tightened his arms to have your body completely flush on his.
You moved your head to face him, finding the most peaceful semblance you had ever seen on him. Damian waited for your move, or your words, his eyes dancing all over your face. He had never had you so close, not properly, he hadn’t thought it would be possible to find more details to like about you but there he was, in awe of your beauty.
Tentatively, you kissed him again. He kissed back immediately, this once around not taking his time at all. You whined on his mouth, making him grunt. You caressed his thick hair, fingers burying between the dark locks as you pulled him impossibly closer. Damian pushed your body backward, your calves hitting the edge of the couch as he sucked your bottom lip between his.
You brought him down with you, his first reaction being to place his open palm on the back of your head so you wouldn’t hurt yourself as you tried not to giggle. He huffed a laugh himself, pecking your lips before dragging his own down to your jaw.
As he kissed your neck, he asked, “what do you want, Amira?”
Your attempts of getting out of bed failed the next morning, Damian pulled you closer as soon as he felt you move. You didn’t have any other option than placing your head on his hard chest, your index finger mindlessly tracing patterns against his dark olive skin. The tips of his fingers ghosted your back up and down, his steady breathing threatening to lull you back to sleep.
“I have to go to work.”
He hummed in answer yet gave no signal of wanting to let you go. If it was up to you, you would stay there with him for the entire day, in the little bubble you two had created the night before and would probably burst once you had to talk about it.
It didn’t feel like a mistake which should have surprised you, actually, you couldn’t think about a better decision you had taken in your life. Dramatic, sure, but no less true.
“Just call in sick,” he grumbled, properly tucking both your bodies into the covers. You could feel the ripple of his muscles as he did it, with just one hand as with his other arm he kept you in place.
You huffed a laugh, “I’ve only called in sick once.”
“An even stronger reason to do it now.”
“Don’t you have to go to work too?”
Damian snorted, moving his head to stare at you. You did the same when you heard and felt him shuffle. “Will you stay if I say no?”
As much as you dreaded the idea of leaving for work and not seeing his handsome face, you also dreaded the idea of having to see him go.
Damian seemed to have read your mind and interpret your silence, he brushed your cold cheek with his knuckles. His steady breathing quickened a little bit, you wouldn’t have been aware of it if your head hadn’t been resting on him. “Will you avoid me again if I let you get up?”
You shuffled just enough to face him, both your hands flat on his chest. “It wasn’t personal against you.”
“It felt like it.”
“I needed time, that’s all.”
“For what?”
You took a sharp intake of air, swallowing your excess of saliva as you exhaled. “Think, meditate... however you want to call it.”
“Is that why you don’t want to use your bedroom?”
“We’re literally in my bedroom.”
He rolled his eyes, “that doesn’t mean you want to use it.”
You stared down at your hands, the natural light of the morning making Damian’s skin glow under them. “It’s strange.”
“Why?”
“I think—“ you stopped for a moment to consider your phrasing, there wasn’t any other way of saying it and getting the point across than being direct. “At first it was because of what happened that night.” You felt him tense up, your fingers immediately rubbing circles over his skin in attempts of soothing him. “But then, after I tried to convince you to go back to the manor... it just doesn’t feel the same knowing things between us won’t be like they were before because it something that happened here.” You could’ve had articulated it better, but you didn’t want to mention Tim.
“Do you want that?” Upon seeing the confusion in your face he reformulated the question, “do you want us to be like we were before?”
”You don’t?”
He shook his head in answer. “Why would I?”
“Because I’m your best friend?”
“That’s Jon.”
You lifted your fingers to playfully slap them against his chest, “don’t be sassy with me.”
“I don’t like you the way I tolerate him.”
”isn’t it weird?” you mumbled the question.
Damian pursed his lips, looking up in thought. You took your time to stare at him some more, your fingers itching to trace his facial structure. “Because of Drake?”
“Your entire family,” you clarified, wishing you could avoid the topic altogether.
“I honestly don’t care.” You only hummed. His eyelashes fluttered as he dropped his gaze, his hand back to caressing your face. “What do you think?”
“I think,” you said through a sigh, “that I’m calling in sick.”
He smirked, withdrawing his arms to allow you movement. You shivered due to the change of temperature as soon as your legs swung from the bed, a pair of panties and a t-shirt were the only clothing covering you; you hadn’t really needed more than that and the duvet to sleep warmly, Damian’s body was extremely hot— literally, in both aesthetics and temperature.
Damian granted himself the pleasure of staring at your body as you stood just in front of him while making the phone call, the bouncing of your left leg, the slight tilt of your head, your shifty eyes while listening to whatever your interlocutor was saying. The longer he stared the stronger the urge of pulling you back into bed got. The phone call hadn’t even been lengthy, he was being a brat, but it wasn’t as if he cared.
He sat up near the edge of the bed, his feet flat on the floor without any effort thanks to his height. You thanked your boss, your eyebrows furrowing when you realized Damian had changed positions. Your eyes diverted down to his torso at the same time the line clicked.
Putting your cellphone down on the bedside table, you asked, “do you want something for breakfast?”
He opened his legs for you to stand between them, hands ready to be placed on your sides the second you complied. Out of instinct, you wrapped your arms around his neck, his hot breath giving you goosebumps as it hit your neck.
Lightly brushing your face as he ever so slightly turned his, he spoke with his lips against your jaw, “Are you on the menu?”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe, then.”
Damian ignored the way you rolled your eyes and continued trailing kisses over your jaw and chin. You gripped his hair so he’d face you, leaning down to kiss him when he did so. His arms snaked your hips as he kissed back, opening his mouth a little bit more than you which gave you some type of advantage.
“I really like you,” you finally said out loud, mouth still hovering over his.
You felt him smile. It prompted you to put some distance between your faces in order to take the sight in. He didn’t smile often, you weren’t sure as to why but you had theories— that didn’t matter, what did was that he had gifted you an honest smile, one that showed his dimples and brightened his eyes.
The urge to cup his face overcame you, your hands slowly slid toward his jaw and as they abandoned his hair— Damian nuzzled against your left one. Your thumbs caressed his cheek softly, his inhaling and exhaling making the small hairs on your arms stand up and fall down at the rhythm of his breathing.
You hadn’t felt so much peace in a long time, it might have been the pride flowing through you at the fact that he wasn’t very open with people— much less when it came to emotions— but you let yourself entertain the idea that the real reason behind it was how easy it had always been to be yourself around him.
It only hit you when he locked his eyes with yours that you were making him feel the same way. No amount of self-sabotaging or teasing from his family could take that away from you.
#damian wayne x reader#damian wayne x plus size reader#plus size fanfiction#plus size reader#robin x reader#robin x plus size reader#damian wayne#robin#dc x plus size reader#dc x reader#batfam x plus size reader#batfam x reader
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so ist es immer
Summary: There are some things in life which are meant to be - like Damian taking over the mantle as Batman when he grows up - and there are some things in life which are meant to happen so others can grow.
Pairings: mainly Damian Wayne x Batsis!Reader
Warnings: Suicidal theme
Requested by: @loxbbg
A/N: This was done like two days ago... but I forgot to post it once I got home to my laptop. ANYWAYS, I hope you like it! The second part will be up sometime this week? As I feel that lumping this part with your second part of request a bit jarring in terms of theme. The title is the inspiration for this fic. Thank you for requesting! PS I’m always here if you need someone to talk to and I hope if you are feeling such ways, you are seeking help as well.
"Dami, I don't think I'm going on patrol tonight," you whispered. Eyes fixed on the window of his room.
Damian stopped. Hands frozen on the laces of his boots, he faced you by the doorway. The light from the corridor illuminating your silhouette and your expression shrouded in the darkness of his room. He can't see the very eyes which reflect the heart you usually wear on your sleeve nor can he see the smile on your lips. He can't see anything; an expression, a clue.
Something tugs at his heartstrings. He frowns. There's a lump in his throat. Hands trembling. Standing up with a boot forgotten, his attention wholly on you.
"All of us would be going for patrol." Will you be okay alone at home?
You faced him. Still nothing. Like looking at a statue.
"It's just a headache. You know how bad it can get." Don't worry about it, you have better things to worry about.
The tug is back. The lump is worse. On instinct, he straightened.
"TT, you should visit a doctor. It's not getting any better." It's foolish for you to think I will worry any less about you.
You sighed. It's tired and heavy. First clue. Only clue.
"I just need some rest, I'll be fine."
You straightened. Gave a small smile at him. Walked down the corridor.
He took a step forward. Stopped. He trusted you.
You would tell him if there's something wrong.
You would tell him everything.
You would… right?
Head shaking.
Heart heavy.
But he didn't.
Turned back around against his instinct.
He wore his other boot, hands flying with familiarity yet heart and mind on you.
You would.
You should.
But you didn't.
Staring at the sky, you wondered.
How it's like being something undeniably important to life.
You tried, you really did. But with every effort comes that voice inside your head whispering what-ifs.
You tried to think about how much of a disgrace you would be. How much disappointment that would mar their face. How much pain... their hearts would be, Damian especially.
Oh, silly Damian… Your other half yet someone so opposite of you. The ruler destined to take over your grandfather and the hero expected to take over your father. The brother your mother always encouraged and pushed yet when a flash of exhaustion passed by you, you would be told to rest. The brother who somehow easily fit into the mould of robin after your other brothers while you're shown sweet smiles and sweeter embraces when donning the batgirl costume.
But it's not his fault. It never was and never will be.
Would then mean it's yours?
Maybe if you were more optimistic, you could see the beauty in life as Dick would always say. Maybe if you were braver, you could be as strong as Jason to confront his fears. Maybe if you were smarter Like Tim, you could find various ways to get rid of this emptiness in your soul. Maybe if…
Should you find somewhere further to do this? Somewhere where they can’t find you?
Mind reeling, eyes flitting. Glancing at the pills, you swallowed it.
Head resting on the tub, you finally feel at peace. Memories with your family play like a movie for the last time. Eyelids get heavier. And exhale.
Exhale.
In uneasiness. To get rid of this heavy feeling in his chest. His leg started to bounce.
“Is everything okay Damian?” Bruce asked as he drove the batcar home.
He hummed in reply. Bruce rose an eyebrow. But he knew better. So he just observes.
“Father, do you think she’s hiding anything from me?”
His voice was so small. Body made smaller. He never saw Damian like this, but he doesn’t blame him. You were Damian’s everything - his voice of reason, his emotional support and in essence his other half.
“What makes you think so?”
“There’s this… My chest feels heavy.”
Damian struggles with showing emotions, he knew that; like father, like son. To see the worry creasing his forehead above the mask and the mouth tugging downwards into a pout, it must have been plaguing his mind for some time.
“Why don’t you visit her later? It would definitely help.”
He hummed in reply. And so he did.
Jumping out of the car, he made a beeline towards your room. Even when Alfred called out to him to change first, Bruce dismissing him on Damian’s behalf and his brothers’ inquisitive stare, his mind was fixed. Through the study room and the hallways, up the grand staircase and pass through the winding hallways. The feeling in his chest grew like a parasite - chest and arms and legs heavy like lead. His march turns to a slight jog and turns to full speed ahead.
He threw the doors open.
It’s dark.
The curtains are closed. The bed is made.
Where?
He flipped the switch.
He feels like vomiting.
Where?
He swallows the lump in his throat.
He checks every crevice in the room.
Where?
Eyes burning with unshed tears.
His eyes finally glanced to the bathroom.
There.
But something is calling out to him.
Don’t.
But he was never one for following orders. Even with his head pounding with various possibilities and his vision blurry with the tears now flowing down his face to which he does not know when did it start but that’s not what concerns him nor the gnawing pain in his heart which becomes worse with every step forward and the distance shortens but so does his breath and it felt like his lungs are burning and his mind clouding and he --
Stops.
So does his heart.
His mind does not register it.
But his instinct does and his steps fall forward.
To you.
His hands, trembling, graze your neck for a pulse. Then, your nose for a breath.
You’re cold.
He carries you out of the tub and into his arms. Hug you a bit tighter, closer, until there’s no saying as to where you end and where he starts.
And that’s how Dick finds you two.
First, confusion flit past his mind. Then, discomfort at Damian’s sobs.
He hardly cries. You’re not breathing.
He shouts for his family before leaping into action. He separated your body from Damian who was shell shocked at the prospect of your missing body so he fought and tried grabbing you back between all the threats and sobs then the begging and crying to which Dick’s heartbreak at every plead that comes flying out of Damian’s mouth but he couldn’t give in to him because you need help and you don’t deserve this and he’s so confused and this situation is so --
“What… the hell?”
Jason took one look at the mess - between your limp body, Dick’s plead of help and Damian’s desperateness. No, he refuses.
Tim, just right at Jason’s heels, came out blank. Only questions fill his mind and no answers. Too much information and yet too little. Why?
"What the fuck are you doing? We need to get her to the hospital!" Jason gently took your form.
"No! Give her back! Don't touch her! Let her go!" Damian's shrill voice echoed in the mansion, clawing at Dick's bleeding arms wrapped around his torso as he glared at Jason through the tears.
Jason stared. He refused. He turned.
Then bumped into something - someone.
"What… No… What happened to her?" Bruce's voice and facade broke in every possible way.
His large hands skimmed your neck then your face. It's cold, too cold.
"Master Bruce, I suggest…" Alfred's voice faded at the scene.
Damian limp in Dick's arms, wailing for something - the first time he ever saw Damian so broken because even in his death, he never feared. Dick, always the empath, was caressing Damian but the action held no love; it was like he was doing it because he had to. Tim was frozen by the bathroom doorway gazing at something far away like his brain has failed him and that's all he ever was and now all that was left was a husk of a man. Jason, with his big stature, was cradling something - someone - but his face shows anything but strength as his lips quivered and eyebrows furrowed. Bruce was mumbling, caressing the hair of his daughter, tears not showing any sign of stopping nor did it register in his mind; he was as far too gone in his mind.
It was like a movie; it felt so surreal.
He felt like he was peeking into a window of a family who has lost everything.
But it was not; that was his family grieving.
And he blamed himself.
He was here with you. He should have checked up on you. He should have listened to the voice nagging at his mind. He should have insisted he stayed with you when you told him to assist them with the batcomputer. He should have… been better.
And it echoed in the minds of 5 other people.
The mansion was always quiet at this time; moon high yet soon to be replaced by the sun. But never with the air heavy and the family gathered in one room. Never with the mansion echoing cracked voices and rasped cries. Never with hollow souls and breaking hearts. Never with one less member in this too huge of a mansion.
#damian wayne x batsis#robin x batsis#tim drake x batsis#red robin x batsis#jason todd x batsis#red hood x batsis#dick grayson x batsis#nightwing x batsis#damian wayne imagine#robin imagine#batsis imagine#rslwrites#rslcreates#just like it always is
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physical affection
summary: (Y/n) isn‘t used to physical attention and isn‘t sure if she deserves the love Bruce gives her.
pairings: Bruce Wayne x Reader
warnings: angsts fluff, mentions of sex
words: 1256
a/n: I‘m not sure about this because it kind of describes how I‘m feeling these last days. Ps: You are beautiful the way you are!
MASTERLIST REQUEST RULES
After one last kiss to her forehead, Bruce rolls off (Y/n) and lays panting heavily next to her. One of his arms is still under her head. (Y/n) doesn‘t move. Every now and then she takes a deep breath to calm her body down after the pleasuring events of the night. None of them says anything because they are both exhausted after the fifth round of sex. That‘s probably also the reason why Bruce falls asleep rather quickly. But (Y/n) doesn‘t.
When she hears his soft and regular snores, the young woman sits up and once again takes a deep breath. At first she stares at her hands laying on the bed sheets, then she stares at herself in the large mirror right opposite the bed. There she is. Her ugly face. Her strange hair. Her disgusting body. At least that‘s what she sees. Bruce would see the definition of perfection. But she doesn‘t.
One single tear runs down her face and drops on the white sheet. She runs her right hand through her hair and closes her eyes for a moment. Why is she here? Why would a man like Bruce Wayne take an interest in her? Why would anyone take an interest in her? She isn‘t as perfect as every other female. There is nothing about her body that could attract someone’s attention. She isn‘t pretty, nor sexy.
But here she is. In Bruce Waynes bedroom, after they just made love. And that doesn‘t make sense in (Y/n)s head. No man in her whole life, ever, showed physical affection to her. She was never important to anyone. Why should she be important to Bruce? All her life she believed that she was unworthy of love, that no one would ever love her. She lost hope when she was still single with 25 and no one showed any interest in her. No one.
So it doesn‘t make sense in her head. Bruce can‘t love her. It‘s impossible.
Slowly, (Y/n) leaves the warmth of the bed and puts on the first clothing she sees, which is one of Bruces shirts and her shorts. Then she leaves the bedroom and walks through a lot of corridors until she reaches the kitchen. Unfortunately, the kitchen isn‘t empty and (Y/n) stands in front of Alfred who is making himself some tea. They both stare at each other for some time.
„Already leaving?“ The old man asks and fills the hot water in the cup. (Y/n) swallows hard and looks down at her naked feet.
„No. No, I was just…eh“ Why didn‘t she think about leaving? If all of this doesn‘t make sense and is probably not even real, than it would be best to leave. Easiest way to avoid her problems.
„Did Master Wayne do something wrong?“ Alfred hands (Y/n) the tea cup he made and turns around to get himself another cup. But not before giving her a worried look.
„No! He didn‘t. Bruce is…nice. He is…the best.“ (Y/n) starts to feel unwell because Alfreds questioning makes her rethink everything. Maybe life is treating her this time like she always dreamed of. Maybe Bruce does love her.
„Then why aren‘t you with him?“ Without another word the man leaves (Y/n) alone in the kitchen. Alone with her thoughts.
With a sigh the young woman turns around and walks back to Bruces bedroom. The man himself is sleeping in the same position he was when (Y/n) left. Watching him sleep so peacefully, sends a shiver down her body. He is too good to be true.
After a sip from her tea, (Y/n) lays down again and tries to sleep but her thoughts are to dominant. But then a strong arm pulls her against a muscular chest and she can feel Bruces breath against her neck. There it is. The physical affection, (Y/n) thought she never deserved. She isn‘t used to it. But nevertheless it feels good, so good to be in his arms. And with that thought (Y/n) finally falls asleep.
The next morning the young woman wakes up well rested and as she turns around she must realise that Bruce left. We’re the events of last night only a dream? No, she is still in his bedroom in the manor. It must have been real.
As (Y/n) hops out of the bed a certain billionaire enters the room with two cups of tea in his hands. With a smile (Y/n) looks at Bruce and takes one cup from his hands. The moment the cup touches her fingers, Bruces lips also touch hers in a short but romantic kiss. As they separate, (Y/n) realises that he just got out of the shower. His hear is ruffled which is, in her opinion, the cutest it has ever been.
(Y/n) sits down in one of the comfortable armchairs, followed by Bruce who kneels in front of her, setting his cup down on the floor.
„Is everything alright, honey?“ Bruce asks with a concerned expression on his face. He takes the hand, (Y/n) isn‘t using to hold her warm tea cup. Kind of ashamed (Y/n) avoids eye contact.
„Yeah, why wouldn‘t it?“ Her voice breaks mid sentence and that’s one of the reasons that worries Bruce even more.
„You know, you can talk to me about everything. Don‘t be afraid to tell me what‘s wrong, I will understand. I promise!“ Slowly, (Y/n)s tear filled eyes look into Bruces brown ones. She fights with her own thoughts. On the one side, she wants to tell Bruce everything but on the other side, what if he doesn‘t understand and breaks up? „Alfred told me that you went to the kitchen, rather…messed up. Did I hurt you last night?“ Now it‘s Bruces turn to be insecure and that’s something (Y/n) never wanted to see.
„No! No, Bruce. You didn‘t. You did absolutely nothing wrong. You are perfect.“ (Y/n) puts down her cup as well so that she can take Bruces face in her small hands. „You are perfect. It‘s me, Bruce. I‘m the one that does everything wrong. I‘m the one that doesn‘t deserve you and…your love.“
Bruce lays one of his hands on (Y/n)s cheek and shakes his head slightly.
„Honey, no. You are perfect and you deserve more than I can give you. I love you so much.“ He gives her a short kiss and then leans his forehead against hers. „Why would you think like that?“
„It‘s just because…I was alone for almost my whole life, no one…showed me that I‘m important. I‘m so insecure about myself and when our relationship started….I‘m not used to physical affection and I don‘t know how to handle it. And I never thought I deserved love. I‘m so stupid, sorry…“ Now tears run down (Y/n)s face and she can‘t hold back her sobs. She feels so pathetic.
„Hey, it‘s okay. I understand. It was new to me too. You will get used to it, I promise. And get one thing inside your pretty little head, honey: You deserve to be loved, do you understand?“ Bruce kisses (Y/n) once again and helps her up after a few seconds. When both of them stand, he hugs her as tight as possible and whispers some sweet nothings to her.
„I love you.“ The words leave (Y/n)s lips without thinking twice and in pure shock she waits for Bruces reaction. She never told him before. Not with words.
„I love you too, honey.“ Bruce starts grinning like an idiot and presses his lips onto (Y/n)s in a heated kiss.
#batman#batman x reader#batman x you#batman imagine#batman oneshot#batman one shot#bruce wayne#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne x you#bruce wayne imagine#bruce wayne oneshot#bruce wayne one shot#ben affleck#alfred pennyworth#dc#dcu#justice league#batman vs superman#batman fluff#batman angst#bruce wayne fluff#bruce wayne angst
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Day One: Christmas Buns [Jason Todd x Reader]
Requested by anon: “The reader tries to tell Jason she’s pregnant during Christmas dinner (oh the buns? They are in the oven) in front of the batfam (ps I really really love your blog)”
A/n: Day One of the batfam christmas special has begun!! I hope you all love this fic! This request was adorable and I absolutely loved writing it. Also anon I don’t know if I said this before but it made my day for you to say you love my blog! Happy Holidays!! 💚❤️💚❤️
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You and Jason had discussed kids before and were planning on a family soon. You had been married for a little over a year and your mother was already badgering you about when she’d get to be a grandmother. She even began to prod Jason about it, which he would simply look at you and make some sort of comment to make you blush and hit his arms because it wasn’t appropriate to say in front of you mother of all people. However your mother found his comments quite entertaining.
Though, her prodding did begin to push you and Jason to begin trying. For the time being, condoms had become a thing of the past. However, attempts were futile for a while, but there was one morning where you woke up and had to rush to the bathroom after feeling nauseous. That led you to getting an at home pregnancy test and learning that you were in fact pregnant!
It was hard to contain your excitement and giddiness around Jason, along with the signs that you were pregnant. Deciding that you’d surprise Jason on Christmas when you went to the Manor for Christmas.
And damn could that day not come fast enough. You were unusually giddy that morning but Jason just chalked it up to it being Christmas Eve and this was one of your favorite times of the year. So he brushed off the excitement as nothing more than that.
Little did he know that you were planning to make your big announcement to him tonight at dinner.
When the time came for you to head to the Manor you were basically dragging Jason out of your apartment. Barely giving him time to put on his scarf and gloves to protect him from the brisk Gotham air. “Geeze doll give me a sec” He chuckled as he grabbed his keys and wrapped his scarf around his neck.
“Come on Jason! You take so long!” You whined from the front door, dramatically draping yourself against it. He chuckled and rolled his eyes when he caught up to you. “You’ve been spending too much time with Dick.”
You rolled your eyes before grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the apartment. He shut the door and locked it behind you both before intertwining his fingers with yours and heading toward the elevator. On the ride down to the first floor you hugged his arm, “I’m so excited for Alfred’s Christmas ham and cookies. And I know Dick will have hung up mistletoe everywhere so I have even more reason to kiss you.” You grinned up at your husband.
Jason chuckled and wrapped his arm around your waist. “You don’t need a mistletoe to kiss me.” A smirk grew on his lips. You chuckled and pushed up to kiss him quickly, but instead kissed his nose rather than his lips. He frowned down at you and causing a laugh to bubble from your throat. “You’ll have to get me under that mistletoe to get one on the lips.”
“Or I could just steal one.” He smirked again.
You poked him in the stomach, “You’re no fun.” He laughed before pulling you closer, “I’m plenty fun, what do you say tonight we have some extra fun and maybe finally get that other present we wanted.” You bit your lip to keep the smile from spreading on your lips. “Maybe” Kissing his cheek quickly before the elevator doors opened and you pulled him out and toward the front doors.
After the drive to the Manor you were quick to get inside and get warm. Spending plenty of time talking with the family and catching up since you last saw them. Which was only a few days prior. None of them seemed to realize you were a month along making you very proud of your ability to keep a secret from a family of late night detectives.
As dinner drew closer, your excitement began to boil over a little. You’d hug Jason’s waist or arm tighter. A large smile was always on your face. He began to become suspicious of your strange behavior.
When you noticed this you retreated to the kitchen to give Alfred a hand and before Jason could draw any hints at to what you were excited for. Alfred happily accepted your company and you helped him cut the ham and get things ready. With your help the food was finished a bit faster and you helped him set the table as well.
With everything set Alfred called the family to dinner and you happily sat in the chair next to Jason. He smiled at you before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. Earning a groan of disgust from Damian. “Must you do that over the food.” You simply chuckled, “You’ll understand when you have a girlfriend Damian.” The young man simply scoffed “I have no intention to have a relationship.”
You chuckled again, “We’ll see how you feel when you’re a teenager and that sex drive is out of control.” Countering and earning a snort out of Jason and laughter from the others. Even getting a chuckle from Bruce. The comment made a small tinge of pink paint the young assassins’ face.
Alfred came out of the kitchen holding the basket that was filled to the top with rolls. “I had forgotten to get the buns from the oven.” Alfred set them down before going to take his seat.
This was your chance. Smirking you slipped your hand in Jason’s before whispering as he took a sip of his water, “Those aren’t the only buns in the oven.” The comment caught him off guard, causing it to go down the wrong pipe, resulting in a coughing fit. Drawing the attention of his family. They all asked if he was ‘okay’ but he just stared at you wide eyed. “YOU’RE?!”
With a beaming smile you nodded, “Yes! You’re gonna be a dad!”
The entire family’s jaw dropped as Jason quickly stood and pulled you up with him. Hugging you tightly and kissing you before pulling away and resting his hands on your stomach. “How long?”
“A month” You chuckled and put your hands on top of his. “I’m surprised nobody figured it out. You are all detectives.”
Jason laughed before kissing you again. Soon the entire family had stood up and came to give you a hug and wish you congratulations. Everyone was ecstatic about the news. Steph squeezed you so hard Jason freaked out a bit because he didn’t want anything to hurt the baby. Making you roll your eyes and laugh, better get used to that now.
“This is the best Christmas ever!” Dick cheered before hugging you and wishing you congratulations. “If it’s a boy you’re naming it after me right?” He chuckled and you nodded before sarcastically answering “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Jason chuckled before he did something that seemed to shock everyone. He accepted a hug from Bruce. A wider smile made it’s way on your face at the sight, hearing Bruce whisper to Jason. “I’m so proud of you, you’ll make a great father.”
You swore you were going to cry hearing Bruce say that to Jason and the look on Jason’s face was priceless before he returned Bruce’s hug.
Chuckling you walked over and gave Bruce a hug as he congratulated you. You wiped away a couple happy tears on your sleeve before wrapping your arms back around Jason. His reaction and the families’ reaction was more than you could ever ask for. And from the rest of the baby talk that happened at dinner, you knew this kid was going to be spoiled!
#batfamily twelve days of christmas#Day One#jason todd x reader#jason todd imagines#jason todd imagine#jason todd#red hood x reader#red hood imagines#red hood imagine#red hood#batfam x reader#batfam imagines#batfam imagine#batfam#batfamily x reader#batfamily imagines#batfamily imagine#batfamily#dc x reader#dc imagine#dc imagines#dc#anon
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“Titus likes you...too much” - Older!Damian Wayne x Reader
I know I said I wouldn’t write anything until Friday or Saturday, but I just realized this story was done and for some reason I didn’t post it so why not post it now right ? So here we go. Specially written for @loverandomness2. Some fluffy love for the youngest Wayne boy. I’m sorry if you didn’t want an older!Damian and if that’s not what you wanted at all but...yeah, hope you’ll like it :
PS : there’s a little surprise for @epickimmie somewhere in this fic. Hope it is ok that I did this.
PPS : Also, this story kinda became some sort of sequel to another story I wrote with Damian, which is here : The First time is serious business.
You can find my masterlist here : @ella-ravenwood-archives
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It was early in the morning when Damian finally came home. Came back to you.
It had been a few years since his father retired and Damian inherited the Batman’s cowl. Most nights, he was out fighting crimes in Gotham, though, since his dad’s younger years, G-city was way safer, and it often happened that Damian came home early, or sometimes, didn’t go out at all (besides, he still had the help of his brothers, and they took turn to watch over the city...so really, you often had times with him, even if he was also quite busy during the day, as he became Wayne Inc’s CEO as well). It didn’t mean that there wasn’t any work ever though, like tonight, a new guy who called himself the “Joker’s son” was menacing the streets, and Damian was exhausted as he finally came home...But really, more often than not, the city was now calm.
Bruce was beyond happy about that, as he sacrificed his own life so others wouldn't have to. Sometimes, when you went over to Wayne’s Manor (you and Damian moved in a penthouse in the heart of Gotham quite a while ago), you felt a bit sad for your father-in-law...But nowadays, seeing his sons happy sufficed to make him happier than ever since his parents’ death.
None of his children still lived in the Manor, but, now that they were all grown up and understood some of the difficult choices he had to take (it took Jason a little more than his brothers to get it), they all “forgave” him for any mistakes he might have done while trying the best he could to raise them, and often visited him and Alfred.
Besides, since a little while, a certain Selina Kyle finally decided to move in with him so, Damian’s father wasn’t lonely, and that was great. He could finally live his life, after all those years, after sacrificing his youth and health...Finally, he was at peace (or almost, as sometimes, he couldn’t stay away from the bat-computer and such).
As Damian came in your bedroom, shoulders hunched with fatigue, rubbing his face softly, you couldn’t help but be happy at the mere sight of him. You guys all came such a long way since you first met him...You were barely ten years old when you first encountered the youngest boy in the Wayne family, and so much had changed since those times.
************
Jason had a small flat on Gotham’s dock. He loved the ocean and its sound, and refused any bigger place his father offered to buy him. He was still Red Hood at night, but wasn’t as violent as he used to. He didn’t kill anymore. Especially since he found a girl that looked his opposite, and tamed him down (referencing this fic here : Cutie and the Beast). Hell, they even had healthy triplets. TRIPLETS ! Two boys and a girl. Quite a busy life, as those kids were a handful...You adored them. Cute little nephews and niece.
Dick moved to Bludhaven ages ago too, got married to a certain Lydia, the famous Superman’s daughter (though most people knew him just as retired journalist Clark Kent) (this is referencing a story by @soepicsokim, go check it out :-)), and was his same goofy and happy self. Especially when he was around his wife really. He often visited you guys to your apartment, and even though Damian was now a grown ass man, he still treated him like a child.
Tim was living in a house in Gotham’s suburb, and was still the same old nerd he always been. Except now, he shared his life with a nerdy wife, and one nerdy little girl of his own. Last time you saw him, they were building a rocket in their garden...Of course they would.
Finally, Damian, your Damian, was living with you in a beautiful apartment in Gotham Central, and after years of being lost, sad, lonely and angry, he finally found balance by your side. You were his rock, his anchor to reality, and to everything that was good in life. You helped him with your love, and he thanked god, or whoever was out there, everyday for putting you on his way, years ago. You were a student in his middle school, and the only one that didn’t judge him and such, and even talked back to him when he was being an ass. A damn smart (and quite stubborn) girl too. Of course he could only fall for you.
You’d been together for a long time before he finally popped the question, giving you his grandmother’s magnificent wedding ring he got from his father. You got married three years ago, a small and intimate reception with only close friends and family (his best friend, Jon Kent, also Dick’s wife little brother, made a tear jerking speech...not because it was emotional, but because it was very funny and awkward, so everyone just laughed so much they cried). It made every newspaper big title, “The last golden boy of Gotham, the only Wayne boy who wasn’t hitched...got hitched. And with a nobody !” Oh you hated the press.
Damian was so mad some newspaper disrespected you he bought them and made them apologize for six months straight...It was cute at first, but after the hundredth daily newspaper stating : “(Y/N) Wayne is the sweetest woman in Gotham”, you got a bit tired and embarrassed of it. Once Damian realized it, he made them stop, and of course, since then, no news from Gotham city (or elsewhere in fact) dared to even speak slightly ill of you.
************
Every night, you’d wait for him to come home back to you, worrying when he’d come through only in the earliest hours of the day.
When it was the case, it meant he had a rough night. Like today.
He didn’t seem injured, but definitely drained and weary. But when he entered your shared bedroom where he found you, still awake, watching TV, a bright smile on your face as he came in, his features relaxed, and he lost ten years when he smiled back at you, of a genuine and happy smile full of sappy love.
He undressed down to his boxers, and approached your bed...Only to stop in front of it, frowning quite like his father used to, and with a little “Tt” while he was looking at a massive form next to you, he says :
-...I think Titus really likes you.
You smile at him and look at his huge dog besides you, that you guys were finally able to bring back from the Manor to your apartment. With a mischievous smirk, you say :
-Oh ? What makes you think that ?
-Oh I don’t know. Maybe the fact that this damn dog takes up more of the bed than I do !
-Hey, babe, it’s your dog. Besides, you’re not even in bed yet.
-Because he takes most of it, he’s even taking my place in your arms...
-He’s protecting the baby.
Damian cannot help the smiles that creeps on his face, as he tries to get into bed (difficult task with Titus in it already). The baby. His baby. Your baby.
His heart beats wildly just at the memories of when he found out you were with child. He almost fainted of joy.
*****************
You waited the perfect moment. A family dinner at the Manor. The room was full of laughter, stupid jokes, and giggles from your nephews and nieces. Everyone was just talking about anything and everything. It was a joyful moment. When you just blurted out : “I’m pregnant”, quickly followed by a “The family’s gonna have one more little one soon”, and the room went silent.
Bruce was the first to react, laughing like a mad man at the news, unable to hold his happiness about the prospect to be a grandfather again (he was an even better grandfather than a father). Selina quickly followed and congratulated you. Dick lost his shit and jumped up and down in the entire dining room, until Lydia got a hold of him and soothed him back to a slightly less excited him. Jason chuckled and, looking at his own kids, rubbed his little brother’s shoulders tenderly. Tim, his daughter asleep in his arms, smiled widely and said something about hoping he or she would be a genius like you and Damian, because he wished he could teach his nephews and nieces something, and Jason’s triplets were just too...full of life to concentrate on anything.
The glare Jason gave Tim made everyone laugh, and the attention went back to you and Damian. To you and a very pale Damian. You were afraid he didn’t want this child with you until...He raised to his feet, and went to you, pulling you up in one of the best hug you ever received in your life. His warm embrace was everything you needed.
Under his family’s applause, you truly became the happiest woman in the World. And he never felt such joy in his life. A child. Your child.
-Our child...
He whispered in your ear, tightening his grip on you.
***********
-Grrrrrr.
Damian instinctually takes a step away from you and “his” dog, as Titus grunts at him. Visibly, “his” dog allegiance shifted to his unborn child, as the hound refuses to let your husband come close from you and your swollen belly.
-He’s groaning at me ! He’s taking most of my own damn bed, and he dares to groan at me ! He never groaned at me before !
You can’t hold the little giggle that escapes your lips in front of your Damian’s pouty and stunned face, which makes him even broodier. You push Titus a bit on the side (he doesn’t resist, after all, right now, his sole purpose is to protect you and the baby from anyone...which includes his own master) and reach for the love of your life.
-You trained him too well honey, he’s really shielding me and our baby from any danger !
-I’m not a danger, I’m your husband !
-But how does he know you’re not a threat ?
-I never even did anything that could make him think that !
-Hey, don’t yell at me babe, he’s gonna take it the wrong way !
Damian narrows his eyes at you and his traitor of a dog, but soon realizes you’re only mocking him, and he chuckles lowly.
-Damn woman, you’re driving me crazy. Quite literally.
-Even after all those years ? Yay, go me !
He chuckles some more, and it’s such a sweet sound that you wished you could freeze time and hear his soft laugh forever. You love when he feels so comfortable with you, that he lets go of his stoic self to allow himself to smile and laugh. Only you, have that effect on him (and sometimes Dick too, because that man was just so damn silly).
-My problem still isn’t solved though.
-What problem ?
-(Y/N), there’s a dog where I’m suppose to sleep, I’m really, REALLY tired, and he groans at me whenever I approach you. I’d say it’s a problem.
-Oh right. Yeah. Just a second.
You lock your gaze on Titus, and the dog instantly stares at you. You turn your head toward the end of the bed, and the animal respond with a whiney noise. You insist, and with a small exasperated growl (yes, dogs can make exasperated noises !), he rises on his feet, looks at his own master suspiciously, and goes to lay down at the bottom of the bed. Said bed is so big, that he can sleep there without bothering you or your giant ass husband.
Damian looks at you, a bit confused, and says :
-...Did you just...Did you just talk to our dogs with your eyes ?
You shake your head positively. Of course you did. You always had a special connection with animals, and Titus was a good boy.
Damian looks at you, then at “his” dog, then back at you, and sighs. He almost miss the days when his dog was a puppy and did everything he told him to do...but in those days, you weren’t in his life, so he couldn’t really ever regret them. There was no living without you, no Damian without (Y/N).
Making sure Titus won’t do anything, he slowly crawl into bed, and carefully comes closer to you, until you rest at his side. He’s still a bit uneasy at the way his dog follows him with his eyes though. Ready to intervene if there’s any problem (it kinda reassures him though, that his dog is that protective of you and your unborn baby, because it means he can leave you sometimes and know you’ll be ok).
A loving hand on your stomach, his free arm behind your head, you snuggle against him, nuzzling his neck, and he lets out a content sigh. He’s finally home. He has you in his arms. He can even feel his future son kicking.
Everything is perfect.
You raise on your elbow and bend over his body, smiling sweetly at him. He, of course, returns your smile, and raises his head to plant a soft kiss on your lips.
-Did I say I love you today ?
-I don’t think so, no.
-Well, I love you (Y/N).
-It’s funny.
-Why ?
-Cause I love you too. Always have, probably always will.
-Probably ?
-Well, you never know...
You tease him, he knows it. And he loves it. With his trademark “batsmirk”, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you down on him, giving you an extremely cute esquimo kiss (he sure was glad that none of his brothers or friends were around, they would totally make fun of him for being so cheesy).
-I hope you’ll always love me. It would kill me to loose you...
-So dramatic.
-And yet I speak the truth. I cannot live without you (Y/N).
Your heart skip a beat. Why did he have to be so charming and attractive ? He stares back at you with his beautiful green eyes, and you can’t help but plant loving kisses on his soft and sweet skin you love so much. You have a quick thought about how much he looks like his father, except for the eyes and darker skin, and you smile because if he ages like his dad...Well damn.
-I love you Dami. So much.
-I love you too (Y/N), so much it hurts. Don’t ever leave, please.
-I don’t make that promise unless you do the same.
-I don’t intend on ever leaving you. Or our future child.
-Well good, because I’m not going anywhere.
-Good.
-Good.
He raises on his elbow, and as you plop down on the bed, he straddles you, as he knows you love how his body shields you. His hands are on each side of your face, deft fingers putting a strand of wild (H/C) hair behind your ear, and caressing your cheek with their tip. His legs are on each side of you. You’re trapped in his embrace. And you love it. He’s about to bend down and kiss you when...
-OUCH !! WHAT THE HELL TITUS ?! HE BIT ME ! TITUS JUST FUCKING BIT ME !?
The sound of your laughter at the overprotectiveness of “your” dog toward your unborn child resonate through the entire apartment.
FIN.
Hope you liked it. I’m a bit afraid it’s not what you wanted, @loverandomness2.
#Damian Wayne x reader#Damian Wayne imagine#older!damian wayne#older!Damian Wayne x Reader#Older!Damian Wayne imagine#Robin x reader#Robin imagine#batfam#batfamily#Damian Wayne fanfic#Damian Wayne fanfiction#Robin Fanfic#Robin Fanfiction#batfam x reader#batfamily x reader#Dad!Damian Wayne#Future Dad Damian Wayne#Fluff#Dog problems#Titus Wayne#TOTALLY TITUS WAYNE !!
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The Deal
King Alfred x Plus size!reader
Word Count: 1896 words
Warnings:none
Summary: Reader is the daughter of Ragnar. She goes to Wessex with Lagartha, Ubbe, Bjorn, and Torvi. Heahmund makes a deal with the the King to give them the lands they so desire...
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When you first arrived at Wessex, you were looked upon as a savage and a murderer.
As far as any of the Christians were concerned, you were nothing more than an animal. Because of that idea, you were half tempted to prove them right, though you knew it wouldn't do any good.
If you stood any chance at being accepted in this place, you had to be on your best behavior.
It was bad enough that you were a viking in England...the last thing any of you needed was a murderous viking.
They already thought badly of you, so you needed to prove them wrong. It was imperative that you found a way to make this treaty work, or your entire family would be in danger.
You were the only living daughter of Ragnar Lothbrok, and that meant nothing here. However, where you'd come from, you were untouchable. You were looked upon as a princess and that attitude followed you everywhere you went.
You held your head high as you strolled from the cage you'd been wheeled in on into the large building that waited for you. It was a palace, sure, but meant nothing to you. No amount of gold or shining things could change your mind about this place...
It was stuffy and tense.
You hated every single thing about it.
Except for one crucial detail...
The young King Alfred.
He was an interesting character, who his people didn't take seriously. They looked at him as a child, and as you looked at him, you weren't surprised.
The man was by no means imposing, and you had no idea how he'd come into the throne in the first place. Not to mention that he was tiny, how was he meant to lead them?
"This is your King?" you asked, addressing Heahmund instead of the boy King. You weren't even going to speaking to him, for the understanding that he didn't speak your tongue.
The man only nodded, waiting for you to ask further questions, though no questions came.
You knew what it meant to be in the presence of a King, but as far as you were concerned, this small boy was nothing more than a joke.
Still, there was something about him that intrigued you. Something about him that was odd, and different from anything else you'd ever experienced. He was trained, like a wolf kept on a leash.
It was strange.
"Does he understand me?" you wondered, clarifying before you said something that was going to get you into trouble.
The time he shook his head. It was clear to you then that you could say whatever you pleased, as long as you did so in your native tongue.
And that made you happy. You had a million things on your mind that you had to get out about the strange man across from you. "He’s too frail and weak, I could snap him in half” you teased, earning a laugh from Bjorn behind you.
It was funny and he couldn’t blame you. In truth, he’d thought the same thing as soon as he saw the small man.
He was puny at best, but that didn’t change the fact that he currently held your fate in the palm of his hands.
Something was going to have to be done in order to secure your place here.
“That may be true, but he is the King” Ubbe spoke up, urging you to hold your tongue. King Alfred may not speak your language, but Heahmund did, and you couldn’t be sure that you could trust him quite yet.
The only people that you knew you could trust were your own. You were the enemy in a hostile land, and you weren’t going to put too much trust in the Christians.
That could only end badly in your experience. King Aelle had proven that quite well when he was alive.
“Not my King” you shot back, shutting your mouth after getting it out of your system. There was nothing you could say or do that would change the fact that you were now in Wessex.
You just had to do as you were told for the time being...as much as you hated it.
~
You all had been sitting around in the dungeon area for what seemed like hours until Heahmund and the tiny King could come to a decision about what to do with all of you and you had really had enough of it.
There was no reason to keep you all locked up like animals. If you wanted to kill someone, you would have done it when you walked in the door.
However as much as you hated the dungeon, as soon as they let you out, you were in for a surprise that was going to make this whole thing so much worse.
Heahmund had made a deal to get your brother’s the land that they were owed by King Ecbert.
All you had to do was be wed to the King.
It would create a connection between the viking and the people of Wessex, not to mention the possibility of you giving Alfred an heir.
It wasn’t ideal by any means for you but if it would help ensure a bond between your kind and the christians, Heahmund thought that it would be worth it. Besides, it wasn’t right for a woman of your age to be unmarried.
Something had to be done to mend the hole that had been torn between your two groups. As far as you could tell, this was how he was going to make good with them after commiting murder, of all things.
You could hardly believe it when they told you...
“You are just going to marry me off to him, like a thrall?” You barked, hardly believing what they were telling you. You could hardly breathe, and your blood was boiling.
Never in your life had you been so full of rage. Who did they think they were?
You were the only surviving daughter of Ragnar Lothbrok, and that meant something. In the eyes of the Gods, you were special, you weren’t to be traded like cattle to a man who couldn’t even defend his people.
It wasn’t right and if your father could see it, you would hate to see how he would react.
Ubbe had been expecting this, but the vision in his mind had nothing on the way you were really taking it. You were beyond angry with them, in a way that he’d never seen in his life.
“This is just what has to be done to ensure that we receive the lands that we are owed sister, nothing more than that,” he assured, earning a look of disgust and rage from you.
If he hadn’t known better, he would have feared what you would do to him.
You didn’t care about the lands around you. If you had your way, you would have returned to Kattegat with Ivar half way through the journey. If Ubbe was going to go through with this, he wasn’t the leader you wanted.
He wasn’t the King that you wanted to follow.
“I want to go home, take me back to Kattegat” you ordered, your arms folded across your chest like an angry child. It was quite the sight, and Ubbe had to actually stifle the urge to laugh at you.
You had always been so terribly dramatic, a trait that you received from your father, undoubtedly.
“I can’t do that Y/N, you know that” he started, prompting you to turn toward the door without a second thought. If Ubbe couldn’t help you, perhaps Bjorn could.
He had always been the most rational and protective over you, out of all your brothers. There was no way he was going to let something like this stand, especially not if you could convince him in the right way.
“Bjorn, you will never believe the deal that Ubbe has made with the christian king” you started, your mind swimming with the events of the past few minutes.
You couldn’t live here, among these christians another minute, led alone be their queen. You simply couldn’t do it.
Why had Odin forsaken you so? After everything you’d done in his honor throughout your life, he wasn’t going to leave to the wolves now, would he?
That would be the cruelest fate of all.
“I heard” he bellowed, keeping his back turned to you as you entered his room. He had been drinking weak christian wine since he heard of what was to happen, anticipating your visit.
As much as he hated it, there was little he could do to stop the arrangement that had already been made.
You would have to marry eventually, and while the oldest of your father’s son’s had always seen you married to a jarl, it would seem that wasn’t going to be the case anymore.
Instead, you would remain in Wessex on the arm of the boy king, as the queen of his kingdom and the overseer of the community of viking they would set up in westumbria.
Someone had to do it, and this was the sacrifice you would have to make.
“I won’t do it Bjorn! I’ll sooner slit his small throat in his sleep” you barked, not believing that he wasn’t going to do anything to help you. Bjorn was your only hope, and even he had turned his back on you.
That got a rise out of the man. Viking or not, you couldn’t threaten to murder a king around here and get away with it.
“Shut up! Are you trying to get yourself killed?” he yelled, turning around finally, his large hand falling over your mouth without a shred of hesitation.
It was one thing to leave you under the protection of the king, but he wasn’t going to leave you here in a cell.
The action shocked you, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle.
Bjorn was a large man with a large reputation, but he had another thing coming if he thought you weren’t going down without a fight.
“Anything is better than being married to him” you replied, that sassy smirk finding its way to your face. Either you didn’t understand the consiquences, or you didn’t care...either way, Bjorn shuddered to think of how you would react.
He was going to have to do something to get you to cooperate, or the deal would never go through.
“I’ll tell you what, go meet with the King, and if you don’t like him, I’ll take you back to Kattegat” he offered, knowing that he shouldn’t. He was only getting your hopes up for something he couldn’t provide but he had to do something.
He wouldn’t have you getting yourself killed.
You nodded, shocked at his sudden change of heart. Sure, you’d have to sit through a stupid evening all dressed up like a christian woman, listening to the boy king talk but if it would get you home, you’d sit through a hundred evenings.
You were so blinded by your happiness and relief that you didn’t stop to think about what would happen if Bjorn actually tried to take you back to Kattegat with Ivar ruling as king.
It didn’t matter.
All that mattered to you right now was getting tonight over with, so that you could finally go home.
#king alfred#alfred#vikings alfred#vikings#king alfred x ps reader#king alfred x plus size reader#alfred x ps reader#alfred x plus size reader#vikings alfred x ps reader#vikings alfred x plus size reader#vikings x reader#vikings x plus size reader#vikings x ps reader
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Love that hurts (Bruce Wayne)
Pairing: Battinson!Bruce Wayne X GN!Reader
Summary: after the explosion at the Wayne manor, Bruce looks for you at the hospitalWarnings: spoilers for the batman, lots of angst, not really a happy ending, I'm feeling angsty today sorry
WC: 1.3k
A/N: so guess who's having a batman phase? This bitch right here. But I have it bad for Battinson amd I cant stop thinking about him so expect more fics coming. This one is just to test the waters and also writing for him for the first time, so it's pretty short. Watch it flop like always.
Ps I'm taking battinson requests (smutty, angsty, fluffy, a mix, whatever your soul desires) so if anyone of yall have any please send them my way, I'll do my absolute best to make it happen.
Reblogs and feedback are highly appreciated!
It was hard to describe what exactly was going through Bruce's head. Panic? Anger? Maybe frustration? Or was it fear that he felt? Fear. Huh. He hadn't felt that in a long time. He learned how to lock that emotion deep inside his mind a long time ago. He wasn't scared of what might happen to him out there. He didn't care. But it wasn't his life he feared for this time. It was yours too.
Bruce knew that you were at The Wayne Manor along with Alfred. Out of all the days you could've picked to come look for him you had to choose that night. All he could think about as he was speeding through the streets of Gotham was that he wished he had answered your calls, or seen your texts. Maybe then he could have convinced you to go home, to not wait for him. Maybe then he could've heard your voice again if you were— no. He couldn't do that to himself. But how could he not? How could he shake this feeling of frantic panic and anguish? He knew this was his fault, he knew Riddler was targeting him and the only two people that had ever given a shit about him got caught in the crossfire.
He didn't remember driving to the hospital, or walking himself to the ICU. He felt like dead weight, hair and jacket pouring wet from the perpetual Gotham rain. He didn't know where his feet were taking him, he just walked, steel cold eyes staring dead ahead as his chaotic mind raced with a million thoughts, none of them exactly sunshine and rainbows. He kept replaying his last memory of you. And he deeply regretted the way that last encounter ended. He remembered you, face wet with hot tears, but you weren't yelling, it was worse, you were quiet, broken and tired. You were hurting and he just stood there, staring at you with the same stoic expression and the same cold blue eyes he always had. And to think you were the person dearest to him and he couldn't get himself to show it. Instead he let you walk away, heartbroken and hurt. He always did that, he always ended up hurting you. And now, you were hurt for real, because of him.
Suddenly his mind went blank, and his feet stopped dead in their tracks. All the noise from the hospital was quickly drowned out by the sound of his beating heart and the shakiness of his breath. He didn't know what this feeling in the pit of his stomach was, but he knew that the second he spotted you he felt like he could breathe again. He approached you with slow and heavy steps, you hadn't noticed him yet and he couldn't bring himself to speak.
You stood restless, the tips of your fingers were pressed against your lips and your breathing was uneven as you paced back and forth. But your breath was caught in your throat when you turned your head and you saw Bruce standing there, hair soaking wet and falling over his eyes. You suddenly felt a wave of relief wash over you. You hadn't heard anything from him in days, and after the explosion at the Wayne Manor you were terrified that something might have happened to him out there. But he was here. Still, you couldn't bring yourself to speak either, deep down you were still hurt and so angry at him.
Neither of you said anything though. Bruce reached out to you and pulled you tight against his chest without saying a word. You should've fought it, you should've shoved him away, screamed in his face, but god knows you couldn't. You squeezed your eyes shut, tears already building up and you bawled your fist into the material of his black sweater. And he held you just as tight, one of his hands held the back of your hair as he rested the side of his face on the top of your head. He closed his eyes and for the first time all night, he felt like he could breathe. He didn't feel fear anymore. But he was still angry at himself, for not protecting you, for letting you leave his arms, because that's where you belonged, with him. As selfish as he knew that was.
Five, ten, fifteen, thirty seconds went by before Bruce moved back enough to be able to look at you. He grabbed your face between his hands. His eyes were as always unreadable, distant but behind them wasn't the iceberg you always saw, you saw something warm this time.
"Are you okay?" Bruce finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. He scanned over your face carefully, noting a couple of scrapes but nothing alarming.
You simply nodded, your hands coming to rest on his wrists, "are you?"
"You were in an explosion, how could you be worried about me?" There was a subtle shake in his voice when he mentioned the explosion, and his icy blue eyes darted away. Bruce Wayne and avoidance were one and the same.
"You beat people up dressed as a bat every night, how could I not be worried?" You replied quietly, making sure to keep your voice down, "I always worry about you Bruce."
Bruce exhaled deeply, his jaw tight and gaze hard as always, "why did you go to the mansion? Do you realize how dangerous that was? I was worried. I thought you.. I thought something might have happened to you."
Your eyebrows shot up and you chuckled dryly, "Bruce Wayne gives a shit about someone? Well maybe I should try to get myself killed more often just to hear you care about me, even if it's just a little bit."
"Don't." The way he spoke made you look at him. It was authoritative, and it was stern. The hard expression on his face screamed he wasn't in the mood for your sarcasm. He held your jaw tightly as he leaned down to speak closely to you, "don't ever say that again. I can't lose you too. I don't want to. And I would do anything to ensure you're safe."
"You want me to be safe?" You pursed your lips together and tilted your head back, almost as if you were trying to make up for the height difference between the two of you. Bruce kept his lips tightly pressed together, eyebrows knitted into a perpetual withdrawn expression and cold blue eyes bored into your own. He nodded slowly, unsure as to where you were going with this. You brought your hands up his face and held it much like he had done to you mere minutes ago, "then let me in. The safest place for me is with you and you know that."
Bruce averted his eyes and shook his head, trying to move his face away from your touch, "You really believe that? Look what happened tonight. You're going to end up hurt if you stay with me."
"Well that's a risk I'm willing to take." You held his face tight between your hands as you looked up at him. If only he could see how you looked at him he would know how much you would do for him, maybe then he would understand why you stayed, why you always went back to him despite him always pushing you away and breaking your heart. "Let me take that risk, Bruce. It's my choice. Not yours. And I chose to I with you. No matter how much it may hurt."
If only you knew how much it scared him to take that risk. Not many things scared him anymore, but the idea that he could lose you was far more haunting than any of the things he has done in the last two years. And that made him weak, he couldn't have that either. He couldn't allow himself the luxury of being afraid, because loving you scared him. So breaking your heart time and time again was easier than feeling what he felt tonight. But he couldn't let you go either. And it was selfish. All he could ever do was hurt you. And you would always go back, no matter how much it hurt to love him too.
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Happy Birthday Jason Todd
This was requested for Jason Todd/Red Hood’s birthday (8/16). Enjoy y’all!
Summary: It’s Jason Todd’s birthday; having died and come back, he doesn’t celebrate it - despite teh wishes the every other friend and member of the Bat Family. While he’s on patrol, you set up a little something.
Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader
Warning: none. All the fluff!
I Don’t Do Birthdays
Having died and come back, and nearly died a few dozen times for good measure, Jason had no intention of celebrating his birthday. It was just a day on the calendar. A hot, muggy, swampy day in Gotham. As far as he was concerned there wasn’t a god-damned thing that was special about August 16. At least that was his plan.
Yours...not so much.
He’d gone out on patrol hours earlier. Not that you could’ve convinced him otherwise without resorting to drastic measures. He didn’t bat an eye when you kissed him on the cheek and said you were going to stay in - your combat suit needed some mending anyway. Or so you told him. Alfred was a practically the patron saint of the Batfamily.
You weren’t entirely sure how much time had passed between when you baked the cake and when you realized the stove was still on. But grazing the side of your hand on a hot burner had slowed your progress slightly. “Bloody fecking...god…”you cursed under your breath, eyes full of fire as you wrapped your palm in silver-sulfadiazine cream and burn gauze. Might not have been bad but it hurt like hell.
He’d gone out at midnight and swore to be back by three - it was one thirty according to your oven clock. Burn aside, that left you with just enough time to set out the small gift you’d gotten him and frost the cake once it finished cooling. First, however, you made sure the rest of the appliances were off. Would do you no good to burn down the apartment building. You could practically hear Jason tease you about yet another kitchen injury. “You fight with knives, use kunai and shuriken. Not a scratch, slice bread, twenty stitches,” he’d said once.
“There,” you smiled, with thirty minutes left as you arranged the cake on the breakfast counter opposite the stove. “Perfect.” There was one candle for each year and one for good luck - your mother’s tradition.
--
“I hate all of you,” Jason growled at his adoptive siblings. They were supposed to be out on patrol, not half celebrating his birthday. There were no cakes, no big presents (thank god) but still cards and that godforsaken song! At least Barbara could carry a tune. The others...he was sure his ears were bleeding as they caterwauled through Happy Birthday.
He heavily regretted his decision to go on patrol tonight.
“You love us,” Dick practically taunted, smiling broadly at his younger brother.
“Up for debate,” he snapped back arms folded over his chest.
Damian asked, “You’re still a child Todd.” He was sure Barbara had threatened him or something to get the demon spawn to participate. “Age doesn’t make you a man,” the boy mocked him.
Jason repeated to himself: I will not kill the brat. I will not kill the brat. [Y/n] would not be pleased. After a moment he said aloud, through gritted teeth as Tim proceeded with the annual birthday punches, “Old enough to make your life a nightmare.”
“And one for good luck,” Tim said triumphantly, hitting his arm a final time. At least it had been Tim this year. Barbara and Dick had both left bruises. Then again, Barbara’s turn had been his first birthday back and he was sure she wanted to kill him a second time out of spite. And Dick’s had been the subsequent year, they’d been fighting so he was probably getting some kind of revenge. [Y/n] had declined to be the assailant last year and he’d thanked god you stated as much. He was sure you’d have hit him hard just for shits and giggles.
And he’d have let you.
He groaned loudly, “Yay. I’m another year older. Whoopdey fucking doo.”
“Language,” Barbara shot, glaring at him. Damian shrugged. He really couldn’t have cared less. The others had all heard worse. “So what are your plans,” she asked after a moment.
Before he could answer Tim suggested, “Nothing. He never does anything.”
“A proud Todd - [Y/L/N] tradition for August 16,” he chuckled, sporting a thumbs up instead of the middle-finger he wanted to give them. He could see your face if he did - scrunched up even under the domino mask with your brow furrowed and eyes narrowed at him. It was a look he’d seen you give dozens of rogues and their thugs. You’d used it on him a few times, like on patrol, it frightened no one. In fact, he thought it was kinda cute.
Dick waved a hand in front of his face, well, the helmet. “Dude, hello, earth to Jason. Did you hear me?”
“No. Clearly.”
“Do you want to go back to the Manor and do something? Bruce is out on patrol, so’s Helena,” he said, “Not like we or Alfred couldn’t make you a cake and we could just…”
Cutting him off Jason countered, “Or, I can go home. You guys can do whatever. And we can all pretend this never happened. Yea, I’m good with that one.” As the other four started to argue, listing off the merits of celebrating his birthday - they did every year - he took off.
They wouldn’t follow him, they knew better.This was one of a handful of days that egging on the Red Hood was a poorer choice than usual.
--
“Babe, what’s...what’s this,” Jason’s voice echoed. For a minute you thought it was you mind playing tricks, then you realized you’d fallen asleep on the couch.
Groggily, you sat up. Rubbing the sleep out of you eyes you could see him staring at the table. Helmet beside the cake, eyes narrowed - from the side you could tell he wasn’t pleased with the turn of events. “Cake,” you said.
“And this,” he held up the box next to it.
Waving him on you said, “For you. Open it.” There was no wrapping paper, no ribbon, it was a re-purposed jewelry store bracelet box. Simple.
Jason looked between you and the box, too exhausted to argue. If nothing else, you at least weren’t trying to celebrate his birthday for your own enjoyment. The same couldn’t have been said for his siblings – even Barbara. Sighing, he set the box down for a minute, “[Y/n] you know how I feel about this.”
“Humor me Jaybird,” you said, the soft smile that he could never refuse spreading across your face. He felt less on edge as he worked off his gloves and jacket.
“Only because it’s you,” he said tossing his jacket over the back of a chair and picking up the box. He almost dreaded opening it as he inspected the plain white box for a moment. He was relieved that you hadn’t wrapped it or done anything of things you’d done to Damian.
Granted he did remember the most recent of the demon spawn’s birthdays. You’d wrapped his gift in not one but twelve layers of wrapping paper. It hadn’t even been all wrapping paper – most of it had been more substantial things like duct tape and heavy duty posters. Even Bruce had gotten a kick out of the kid’s reaction to each layer and the snarky messages on them.
Today, however, two small pieces of tape were all that held the box lid closed. Nothing complicated.
Slicing the tape with his thumb, he pushed off the box’s lid. Sitting on a piece of gauze was a note, roughly the dimensions of the box. “Who complains about cake? No one. Mmm…cake!” He laughed, picking up the paper. Underneath there were several small bags, like the ones jewelers put rings or earrings in after repairs, filled with glitter. On the back of the note, in glitter pen (because of course), you’d written, “And glitter bombs to send the others.” There was one for each Bat-kid and even one for Bruce. “PS. I love you.” Underneath the bags was also a flattened piece of metal, about the size of a military ID tag.
Lifting it out his eyes caught the engraving on it, stamping really – like one of those souvenir pennies. On one side was his name and date and place of birth. On the other, the date he returned to Gotham as the Red Hood; that side was done in a stronger, deeper engraving style than the other. “What’s this,” He asked, looking skeptically at you.
“Well,” you said, finally standing up from the couch. Crossing to him, you rested your hands on his shoulders. “You take on too much love, this is a reminder. A token to keep you in the present.” One of your hand wandered to his cheek. Thumbs stroking those cheekbones and the little bit of stubble starting to come in you added softy, “I don’t want to lose you again.” Referring back to the days and weeks surrounding his death was always touchy.
He smiled, looking at the piece of metal in his hand then turned to you. “You do that every day beautiful,” the grin was practically ear to ear as he seized you up in a kiss.
#dcu imagine#dcu fanfiction#jason todd x reader#jason todd x oc#red hood x reader#red hood#robin#batgirl#nightwing#red robin#jason todd#I Don’t Do Birthdays#request#requested#fanfic
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