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lex’s masterlist

DCU

Jason Todd

Vampire! Reader x Jason Todd

nights Pt1 Pt2 Pt3

Summary: After you befriend Damian Wayne, the 12 year old in your pre med class, you can’t shake the feeling you’re constantly being watched. One night when you see him around Gotham’s favourite crime lord ‘Red Hood’ everything changes.

Someone like u Pt2

Summary: Between medical debts, screaming babies and smashed car windows, newly single mother! Reader has hit her breaking point. It isn’t until she meets the mysteriously handsome mechanic that her luck starts turning up.

Damian Wayne

Exchange student Damian

Damian in PE class

Damian reveals his identity to reader

Liability (Vigilante reader x Damian Wayne)

summary: After a mission with Damian Wayne goes side ways, and Damian ends up hypothermia vigilante reader decides the only way to save him is with body heat?

Dick Grayson

(coming soon)

AOT

coming soon

#damian al ghul x reader #dcu #jason todd x reader

pomegranatelifethis

Nobody Noticed

They never meant to forget you.

That's what you told yourself, in the beginning. When Bruce came home with reports about Gotham's crime rates spread across the dining table and his eyes passed over you like you were part of the furniture. When Dick ruffled your hair and said "Hey, squirt" on his way to somewhere more important. When Tim looked up from his laptop and said "Yeah, totally, I'll help you with that later" — and later never came.

You told yourself: they're busy. They're saving lives. You're not more important than Gotham.

You believed it for a long time.

---

You were six when Bruce found you.

Your mother was already gone by then — taken in a way that left marks on you that had nothing to do with bruises. You didn't understand all of it, not then. You just knew that the world was dark and cold and that sometimes men could do things that made you feel like you'd never be clean again, even when they hadn't touched you. You'd only watched. Hidden inside the closet, eye pressed to the crack in the door, too small and too terrified to make a sound.

That was your first fear: being trapped somewhere small and dark while something terrible happened and nobody came.

Bruce Wayne looked at you across a sterile hospital room and something moved behind his eyes — recognition, maybe. The shape of a child who had seen too much. He signed the papers three weeks later.

You had a home. You had a father. You had brothers.

For a while, you thought that meant you were safe.

---

Dick was twenty when you arrived, already Nightwing, already brilliant. He smiled at you like sunlight and called you little sister and the first time he did, your chest cracked open with something warm and desperate and enormous. You followed him everywhere. You learned his footsteps. You memorized the way he laughed.

He was kind to you. He just wasn't there. Not really. Not in the way that counted.

Dick existed in flashes — a weekend visit, a quick call, a laugh across the comms. He was the brother who said "I'm so proud of you" without asking what he was proud of. He saw the shape of you, the outline, and he loved that outline genuinely. He just never looked close enough to see what was inside it.

You stopped telling him things when you were nine. He always listened with one eye on his phone.

Tim was different. Tim noticed things — that was his whole thing, observation, deduction, detail. He noticed when Bruce's sleep patterns shifted. He noticed when Damian's training scores dropped two percent. He built files on everything.

He never built one on you.

Not because he didn't care. Because you were never a variable in any equation he was trying to solve. You were just... there. Present. Assumed. Like background noise that didn't require analysis.

You asked him once to help you with your combat assessment. You were twelve, newly suited up, still figuring out your footing. He said "Absolutely, let's do Tuesday." Tuesday came. He forgot. You reminded him. He said "Sorry, this week's bad, next week for sure." Next week came and went. You stopped asking after the fourth time.

What hurt wasn't the forgetting. It was that he never noticed he'd forgotten.

---

Jason.

Jason is a wound that never healed right.

Before he died, he was the one who saw you. Really saw you. He'd find you in the library at two in the morning when you couldn't sleep and he'd sit beside you without asking why, and somehow that was enough. He called you kid but it didn't feel dismissive — it felt like a claim. Like you're mine to look after.

He died when you were eight.

You grieved him in a way you didn't grieve your mother, because with your mother you'd been too small to understand permanence. With Jason you were old enough to know that gone meant gone. You put flowers outside his old room for a year. Bruce told you once, gently, to stop. It upset him.

You stopped.

Jason came back when you were thirteen, angry and sharp-edged and burning with something you didn't have a name for yet. You ran to him. You actually ran, across the cave, heart hammering, because he was alive, he was back, he was—

He stepped around you.

Not deliberately. Or maybe deliberately — you never knew. He looked at Bruce and the look between them was so full of history and fury and grief that there was simply no room for you in it. You stood there with your arms half-extended and slowly let them fall.

He never really came back. Not to you. The Jason who sat with you in libraries was buried in the pit somewhere. This Jason looked through you on a good day and said something cutting on a bad one — "Shouldn't you be in bed?" or "You're in the way" or once, terribly, "You're not actually his daughter, you know. You're just the latest project."

You didn't cry in front of him. You'd learned by then not to cry in front of any of them.

---

Damian arrived like a verdict.

He was Bruce's blood. His actual blood, and you understood immediately — with the cold clarity of a child who had learned to read rooms — what that meant for you. Not consciously. Bruce never said it. Nobody said it. But the shift was there, subtle and tectonic, and you felt it the way you felt changes in weather.

Damian didn't like you. He made that clear within the first week. "You were adopted out of pity," he told you, seven years old and vicious with inherited confidence. "I am a Wayne by birth. There is a difference."

You were thirteen. You already knew there was a difference. You just hadn't wanted to hear it said aloud.

You tried, for years, to reach him. You left his favorite tea outside his door. You covered for him with Bruce twice. Once, when he was injured on a mission and Bruce was unreachable, you sat with him in the med bay for four hours and held his hand when he was too delirious with painkillers to tell you to let go.

The next morning he told you to stay out of his room.

You did.

You became a vigilante at fifteen.

Bruce didn't exactly give you permission. You didn't exactly ask. You trained in the cave when nobody was there — which was often, because the cave was only crowded when there was something important happening, and you had learned you were rarely part of what was important. You built your own suit from components in the supply room that nobody had catalogued yet. You chose a name nobody had claimed.

Your first night out, you stopped a mugging and a convenience store robbery and helped a woman whose car had broken down on the highway find a signal to call for help. Small things. Unglamorous things.

You filed a report in the cave's system. Standard format, the way Tim had shown you once, two years ago, in a moment of actual attention. Case numbers. Location coordinates. Incident details.

Nobody responded.

You filed another one the next week. And the next.

After six months, you stopped filing reports. You just went out and came back and put your suit away and went to bed. Nobody asked where you'd been. Nobody noticed the mileage on the bike.

You had a symbol, a territory, a growing list of informants. You had a reputation in three of Gotham's worst districts. You had solved four cases that had gone cold in the GCPD for years.

The Batfamily did not know your case number. They did not know your informants' names. They did not know about the apartment you'd quietly rented in Crime Alley with the money from your trust fund — not to live in, just to have somewhere that was yours, somewhere your things weren't adjacent to theirs, somewhere you could breathe without waiting to be overlooked.

You were sixteen when you understood that you loved them and that loving them was making you disappear.

---

You tried, once, to say it.

Seventeen years old. Family dinner — one of the rare ones where everyone was present, even Jason, even Dick, even Alfred who watched everything with sad knowing eyes and sometimes touched your shoulder in a way that made you want to collapse.

Bruce was talking about a new lead on Scarecrow's operations. Dick was animated, leaning forward, offering tactical suggestions. Tim had his tablet out despite Alfred's pointed look. Jason was eating with the focused aggression he brought to everything. Damian was correcting Tim's analysis with the particular smugness of someone who knew he was right.

You had information. Relevant information — you'd spent three weeks building a profile on Scarecrow's new chemist, traced his supply chain to a warehouse in the Narrows. You had coordinates. You had a window.

You opened your mouth.

"I actually have—"

"The eastern route makes more sense," Dick said, talking over you without realizing it. "If we split the team into—"

You closed your mouth.

You sat there for the rest of dinner. You passed the bread when it was near you. You answered when Alfred asked if you wanted more water. Nobody else spoke to you directly.

After, you went to your room and sat on the floor with your back against the bed and breathed very carefully for a long time. Not crying. You'd mostly stopped crying by then. Just breathing. Waiting for the feeling to pass.

It passed. It always passed.

That was almost worse.

The accumulation of small things:

Tim promising to spar with you seventeen times over two years and canceling sixteen of them. The seventeenth time he simply didn't show up and when you asked later he said "Oh, was that today? Sorry, I had a thing."

Dick sending you a birthday message three days late with seventeen exclamation points, clearly composed in thirty seconds.

Bruce looking at your patrol report — one of the rare times he actually opened the file — and saying "Good work" with the tone of someone who had not actually read it.

Damian telling a visiting hero that there were "four" Batfamily members when you were standing six feet away.

Jason, once, when you were eighteen and tried to check if he was okay after a bad mission: "I don't need you to babysit me. Go back to playing house with Bruce."

The way none of them ever asked about your fear.

You'd mentioned it once, years ago, to Dick — that small spaces made you cold, that being trapped made your vision go white, that you'd had nightmares since you were six about a closet door and sounds you couldn't stop hearing. He'd said "Oh, that's rough, I'm sorry" and then his phone had rung and that was the end of it.

None of them knew. Not really. Not the shape of it, the weight of it, the way it lived in your chest like a stone.

---

You were nineteen when the Riddler's new syndicate took you.

It wasn't careless on your part. You'd been careful — you were always careful, you'd had to be, operating without a net, without backup, without anyone monitoring your comms. You'd tracked the syndicate for four months. You knew their patterns. You knew their safehouses.

What you didn't know was that they knew yours.

They'd been watching you watch them. Waiting. Patient in the way that only people with something to prove could be patient.

They took you on a Tuesday. Gray sky, cold rain. You were two blocks from your apartment in Crime Alley and then you weren't anywhere you recognized.

---

The room was small.

That was the first thing. That was the thing that split you open before anything else had even happened — the dimensions of it, the closeness of the walls, the single bare bulb, the door with no handle on the inside. The smell of damp concrete and something metallic.

You pressed your back against the wall and breathed.

They'll find me, you thought. They'll notice I'm gone. Bruce will pull up my tracker—

Your tracker was in your suit. Your suit was in your apartment. You'd been taken in civilian clothes.

They'll notice I'm missing from the cave. Tim monitors the system—

Tim had not responded to a single report you'd filed in six months. The system showed your last check-in as four days ago.

Dick will—

Dick didn't know your patrol schedule. Nobody did.

You sat in the small dark room and understood, with a clarity that was almost peaceful, that no one was coming.

Not because they didn't love you. Maybe they did, in the abstract, in the way you love furniture that's always been in a room. But love without attention was just sentiment. Sentiment didn't open doors.

---

They came eventually. Riddler's people, with questions you didn't answer and methods that made the room feel smaller. You held on to what you could. Your name. Your breathing. The memory of a library at two in the morning and a boy who sat beside you without asking why.

That Jason was gone. But the memory wasn't.

You held onto it.

On the third day you stopped counting hours. On the fifth day you stopped being surprised by the pain. Somewhere in there — you couldn't have said exactly when — you stopped waiting.

Not because you gave up, exactly. More because waiting required believing, and you had run out of the particular kind of belief that made waiting possible. You had spent thirteen years waiting to be seen. This was just the last version of the same thing.

You thought about your mother, in the end. Not the way it happened — you didn't let yourself go there. Just her face, which you barely remembered, which had mostly dissolved into impressions: something warm, something that smelled like cedar, something that had loved you before the world got its hands on you.

You thought: at least I know what that felt like.

The bulb flickered. The room was very small. The door did not open.

---

They found your apartment six weeks later.

Tim, actually — following a thread on a case that had nothing to do with you, a lead that happened to pass through Crime Alley and a building registry that happened to have your name on it. He stood in the doorway of the small apartment and looked at your things — the books stacked by the window, the mug on the counter, the suit folded on the table because you'd always been neat, always been careful, always cleaned up after yourself — and something shifted in his face.

He called Bruce.

Bruce came. Then Dick. Then Jason. Damian stayed in the car for a long time before he came upstairs.

They stood in your apartment and looked at your life, the one you'd built without them, the one that had existed in the negative space of their attention. There were case files on the wall. Years of them. Cases solved, territories mapped, informants catalogued. There were notes in your handwriting — careful, precise — cross-referencing their operations with yours. All the times you'd been working parallel to them, unseen.

There was a folder on the table labeled, in your handwriting: Reports — Unfiled.

Dick opened it.

It was everything you'd never said. Not a journal, not a letter — you hadn't written it for them, you'd written it for yourself, the way you wrote everything, because writing was the only place you'd ever been fully heard. Patrol notes. Case summaries. And threaded through them, small and unadorned, the record of being invisible: Tim canceled again. Dick called, didn't ask how I was. Bruce said good work without looking up. Damian said four.

And at the very end, dated two weeks before you disappeared: I think I'm going to stop waiting. Not for them — for anyone. I think I've been waiting my whole life and I'm tired and I think that's okay. I think it's okay to be tired.

I love them. I just don't think they'll notice I'm gone.

Dick sat down on your floor.

Jason stood very still in the doorway of your bedroom for a long time.

They found you three days later. What was left of you.

The Riddler's syndicate had moved on, left no living witnesses, covered their tracks with professional efficiency. The GCPD report was clinical. Bruce read it in the cave at three in the morning with Alfred's hand on his shoulder and did not speak for a very long time.

You had been afraid of small spaces. They had put you in one. They had known — somehow, because you'd never told your family but you'd mentioned it once to an informant who'd been compromised — what you were most afraid of.

You had died in the exact shape of your greatest fear.

Waiting for someone to open the door.

They held a service. Small, private. Alfred cried in the way Alfred cried — quietly, with dignity, with the devastation of someone who had seen this family make the same mistakes over and over and had never been able to stop them.

Nobody said we should have known. That was perhaps the most honest thing.

Dick didn't speak at the service. He'd tried to write something and hadn't been able to finish it. He kept thinking about the phone calls where he hadn't asked how you were. He kept thinking about how he'd loved the shape of you without ever learning the contents.

Tim thought about seventeen canceled sparring sessions. He thought about the reports sitting unread in the system. He thought about how he'd built files on everything — everything except you.

Jason thought about what he'd said. You're not actually his daughter, you know. You're just the latest project. He thought about it with the particular torture of someone who cannot take words back. He thought about a library and two in the morning and a small girl who had run toward him with her arms out and he had walked around her like she wasn't there.

He thought about that for a long time.

Damian stood at the graveside and looked at your name on the stone and thought about a mug of tea left outside his door. He had not thanked you. He had not acknowledged it. He had told you to stay out of his room.

He had been seven. He did not think that excused him.

---

Bruce went back to the cave that night. He opened your file — your real file, the one Tim had built after, pulling together everything, trying too late to see you whole. He read every report. Every case. Every small careful note.

He read the line: I love them. I just don't think they'll notice I'm gone.

He sat in the cave for a long time.

Then he closed the file.

He went upstairs. He stood in the hallway outside your room — your old room, the one you'd kept because you'd never officially moved out, the one with your books and your drawings and your second-best mug because your favorite was in the apartment in Crime Alley. He stood there and he put his hand flat against the door.

He did not open it.

He stood there for a very long time, in the dark, in the quiet.

And then he went to bed.

Because Bruce Wayne had always been better at grieving in retrospect than preventing it. Because the people he failed were always, in the end, the ones already inside the house.

Because you had been right.

They hadn't noticed until you were already gone.

theorphicangel

grumpy barista!sukuna x reader

a note from angel: im sorry i need to stop making new series this is an addiction of mine that i can't stop, pls sukuna leave me alone, i feel like im making a multiverse of sukunas.

synopsis: trying a new coffee shop didn't end up going your way when a mean barista takes your order. the problem? he's rude as fuck but he's the best at making your drinks. when you end up giving him a taste of his own medicine, you end up in a deal where this grumpy barista finds himself in the habit of making your morning coffee. everyday. for the next seven days.

tags: enemies to lovers, modern au, barista!sukuna, fluff, crack

word count: 3.7k words

Coffee is part of your daily routine.

If you don't start your day with coffee then it can be ensured that the day will be a terrible day.

You're not strict about your coffee, you don't simply stick to one type of drink. You're the type to explore and try new things. From lattes, to espressos, to cappuccinos, matcha, chai tea, hojicha and a lot more. The convenience of living in a big city is that there will always be a bunch of cafes and coffee shops to try with new businesses opening all over the blocks.

You've made it your own personal mission to try as many new shops in the city, not limiting yourself to one place. You want to support as much of the local businesses as possible, staying away from the big corporate brands. You have enough dealing with business and corporate issues in your work life so the least you can do is support your local community in your personal free time.

On your scout to work you happen to come across a new coffee shop. It's slightly hidden on the block but the brand name and minimalist colours catch your eye.

Someone like u

Tags: Mentions of pregnancy and birth, babies, Slowburn, hurt/comfort, ooc Jason a bit, fluff, reader is broke, Jason is a softie, neighbour! Jason. Dick is there bc when is he not.

Dividers by : @honeyluvsw

Parings: mechanic! Jason Todd x Single mother! Reader

A/n: this wa supposed to be a one shot but I just couldn’t get them tg by the end of it. I didn’t want to drag it either! So part 2 soon

By the time you got to the mechanic, the screaming had been going on for more than an hour.

This week was really a week from hell.

Kali just wouldn’t stop crying. You thought you had hurt her or maybe she was sick, so you had taken her to the hospital.

$2000 added to your never ending medical debt for colic.

And if you weren’t struggling enough, then you were fired from your job.

5 months, your boss had said, was more than enough maternity leave. Apparently he hadn't been the one recovering from thirty-eight hours of labour while caring for a newborn who screamed through every waking hour.

And now some Gotham hooligan had smashed the windows on your car. They hadn’t taken anything, luckily, but the thought of someone invading the space where you put your baby disgusted you.

Maybe you should get it cleaned once you get a new job.

If you ever do.

Money would be the death of you, and poor Kali would have to live with it.

You needed to pull yourself together.

You pulled into the run down shop waiting for the owner to open the garage door. You were met with silence for 5 minutes and you tried your best not to doze off.

Should you have booked an appointment?

you were really just a mess.

The painful creek of the garage door could only give you a second of relief before kali started screaming even louder.

Lord.

It was like you were killing her.

The man you assumed was the owner stood behind your car as you pulled in glaring intensely at the baby through the window.

You hoped he wouldn’t make a big deal of the crying. But it looked like he already was.

It was only when you got out of the car that you could get a good look at him. He was impossible not to notice. Broad shoulders, scarred forearms and dark hair that looked like it hadn't seen a comb all day.

Under different circumstances you would be flustered, he was very attractive and you were very lonely. But you were too tired to feel anything but exhaustion.

Plus it wasn’t like you had much of a chance l, with your bare face and unwashed hair. Hell, you were wearing the same tracksuit you’d slept in.

Whatever, the last thing you needed right now was a man.

“Hi um, im sorry if this is a bad time, I know I didn’t book an appointment, but um,”

“We don’t do appointments sweetheart. What’s the issue?”

His voice was gruff, husky and it sent a shiver down your spine.

“It’s the front windows,they’ve been..um smashed”

“I can see that”

The man scaled the car and then bent down to open the hood. You hobbled around him, peering over his shoulder and pretending you knew what the hell you were looking at.

He looked up at you raising an eyebrow

“Your baby okay?”

Fuck, Kali had been screaming and you were just calmly inquiring about your car. Gosh, he probably thought you were a terrible mother.

“Sorry yeah, she-uh has colic, so um, she won’t stop. She’s fine but I’ll just take her out so you can look at the car.”

You opened the door reaching carefully into the back seat.

“hey baby, your okay”

Kali’s tiny face was bright red, her fists were clenched so tightly, you wondered how something so small could hold so much emotion.

As soon as you lifted her into your arms, she instinctively curled into your shoulder, but the crying didn’t stop.

“I’m sorry” you murmured to both the mechanic and the baby.

“She’s been like this all week, I’m happy to wait outside until your done”

He turned didn’t even look up from the car, replying without skipping a beat.

“Don’t apologise. S’doesn’t bother me.”

Your face involuntarily flushed. His words were blunt but his tone wasnt cruel, more matter of fact.

For a few minutes, only the sounds of rattling tools and Kali’s cries filled the garage.

You bounced Kali gently on your hip to soothe her, but the motion only brought a sharp pain, reminding you that your body still hadn’t recovered from giving birth.

Everyone said that three months would be enough. But the way you were going you don’t think you’d ever recover.

Kali was worth it all. You would do it a thousand times again for her.

“I’m Jason”

The man said suddenly, looking up from the engine.

You gave him your name, with a small bashful smile.

“How old is she?”

“Uh three and a half months”

“Hm”

That was all he said. And for some reason, you appreciated the silence, over the sympathy or advice that everyone else had given you.

“Engines all good, just the windows. I’ll order you some glass.”

That had to be costly. A sharp feeling of dread twisted in your gut.

“How much would that be?”

“About $700, including instillation costs”

Seven hundred dollars.

You looked to the floor, trying to mentally add the figure to your budget. But between medical bills, rent and utilities, it wasn’t looking good.

If you fixed your car, there was no way you could afford groceries. Especially with formula prices these days.

Your eyes immediately started to burn.

“Is everything alright?”

You laughed, it was a terrible sound, hollow and exhausted.

“Yeah um it’s just, I don’t think I can afford that”

You looked down towards your feet.

“I’m really sorry for wasting your time, how much do I owe you for the check up?”

He studied you for a moment before looking at Kali, who was still crying softly into your shoulder.

“You can’t drive it like that, it’s dangerous.”

“You’re right. I can’t.”

You sniffled looking anywhere but his face so he couldn’t see the way your eyes were watering. You blinked back the tears.

“I’ll figure it out thank-”

He cut you off before you could continue.

“I’ll sort it”

“Wha- I can’t”

“Free of charge”

Your eyes widened.

“I’m not letting you do that.”

“I wasn’t asking”

No. You refused to be indebted to another person. He seemed like a nice guy, but who knows what he’ll ask of you knowing you owed him.

“No. I’m sorry I can’t”

You were crying now, and it was stupid it was all so stupid.

You unlocked your car fixing Kali into her seat before Jason spoke again.

“Ma’am I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s fine it’s not you. I’m-just- it’s me.”

“What about a discount? I can’t let you drive home like this.”

You just couldn’t accept his help. It felt wrong, like you were a failure.

But you desperately needed it.

“How much?”

You squeaked, your voice barely audible.

“$250.”

You frowned. Jason wiped his hands on a rag, completely unbothered.

“That’s no where near $700”

“It’s what your paying”

“You’ll lose money.”

He looked at you like that was the dumbest thing you had ever said.

“It won’t break the bank sweetheart, I’ll be okay.”

You closed your eyes trying your best not to burst out in tears. Again

“Thank you.”

His lips turned upwards in what looked like the beginning of a smile.

“Really. Thank you. This helps me and Kali so much you don’t even understand.”

“S’nothing. Glad to help.”

You smiled. This was possibly the only win you had this week, or this year.

When you walked into the hallway of your building, you realised there were shoes in front of the apartment next door.

Man shoes.

Great, that meant that it was time to browse for a new house.

You had almost gotten evicted because of Kali’s crying last month, thankfully the landlord had some sympathy and gave you some time to figure it out. The neighbour moved before you could.

Unlocking the door, you put Kali down in her high chair making her some dinner. You couldn’t breastfeed, because of the state you were in after the birth. Too weak.

And so you never started. Would’ve been easier though. Cheaper that’s for sure.

After feeding Kali you put her in her crib, and to some miracle she fell asleep immediately. You almost started crying in relief.

You had so much you needed to do, but you passed out before you could even think about it. Better you sleep now and worry later.

Though your peace didn’t last long, only three hours later you were woken up by screaming.

There was no way this was normal.

You gently reached for the baby, checking her diaper, and trying to soothe her, when you felt a spell of dizziness.

Right, you hadn’t eaten.

Rocking Kali in your arms you opened your cupboards, empty, to no one’s surprise. You eventually settled on a can of beans, which you ate once the baby finally calmed down.

You decided you’d go to the grocery store tomorrow, you just needed some milk and you could maybe bake a batch of sub-par cookies. Hopefully they’ll be good enough to make sure your neighbour doesn’t complain.

You fell asleep thinking about it. Hopefully if imagined having an understanding neighbour, it would happen.

Well he hadn’t complained so far.

The next morning, after your little outing to the store, you started on the cookies, it took longer than it should have, between tending to the baby, and cleaning up here and there. But by midday you were finished and decided to deliver them before they got cold.

Once the baby was napping you stepped outside, nerves twisting in your gut. Surely he would at least appreciate the gesture.

You knocked on the door taking a step back, and trying to quell your nerves.

But when the door opened, to your shock you saw Jason. The mechanic.

He looked just a nice as yesterday, in a grey tracksuit and hoodie. He looked more human somehow.

“Oh it’s you. Hi”

“Hi”

He replied, leaning against the doorframe.

“I made these for you, to apologise for the noise last night, but I guess I don’t really have to explain”

“You don’t.”

He paused looking around seemingly for Kali.

“You also didn’t have to.”

“Yes I did, especially now that I know it’s you.”

“It was nothing”

Furrowed your eyebrows

“Well it wasn’t to me”

The corners of his mouth lifted into a smug sort of smile.

“I’m not here most nights so no need to apologise.”

You almost jumped in joy. You didn’t have to find a new house. And you had somehow found a sane neighbour. He might even be better than having no neighbour.

Your luck was finally turning.

“Well still. She cries all hours of the day, and you have to sleep sometime.”

Jason didn’t reply, you had begun to understand him a little. He didn’t speak unless he needed to, and even then it was short, blunt replies no more than two or three words.

Maybe you’d get more out of him as you got to know him.

Jason looked down at the plate before taking it. You felt nerves twist in your gut.

“Don’t expect anything special..I didn’t have much”

“Smells special. Chocolate chip?”

You felt heat rising to your cheeks.

“Mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“I ran out of chocolate halfway through”

He let out a low hum, like he understood, or maybe even was amused.

“Resourceful”

You grinned at that, looking shyly to the floor.

“More like broke, but I appreciate it.”

The second it left your mouth you wished you could take it back.

The last thing you wanted was his pity.

In fact, you were hoping you could be friends. It would be nice to talk to someone who wasn’t a baby.

Though somehow he seemed entirely unbothered by the statement, in fact he even seemed entertained.

“They’ll still taste good.”

“How do you know? You haven’t even tried it?”

“Gotta feelin”

His answer was so fast that it caught a smile out of you.

God.

You couldn’t remember the last time someone had made you smile without trying.

A tiny cry drifted out from your apartment.

It’s like she could sense your joy

“Sorry that’s-“

“The boss”

You blinked

“Sounds like the boss is awake.”

He continued with a little proud look on his face.

You chuckled at the sight.

“Well thank you again for yesterday”

He gave you a swift nod

“Don’t mention it.”

“I mean it. I won’t forget it”

“I know, just don’t forget to pick it up on Friday.”

You smiled.

“I won’t, thank you Jason!”

Jason watched you hobble back to your apartment and waited until he heard the door click shut.

It was only then that he looked down to the plate in his hand.

He unwrapped it.

The cookies were.. questionable.

Some were slightly darker than others, and they were all incredibly flat, like pancakes.

He chose the ugliest one.

Bit into it.

He took a second trying to decide if he liked it or not.

They were actually weren’t bad.

He reached for another without a second thought.

After having his fair share of cookies he placed them on the kitchen bench and glanced at the shared wall.

The baby’s cries filtered faintly through it.

He frowned, they sounded different than they had at the mechanic shop.

Shorter, sharper.

Almost like she was uncomfortable.

Damian had colic when he was younger, he remembered not knowing what to do with him.

It was hell, and he wasn’t even his mother.

He wondered if you had someone to help you. He noticed you didn’t wear a wedding ring, and he hadn’t heard anyone come past.

He really hoped you weren’t alone.

The sound of his phone buzzing brought him out of his thoughts.

Dick: Family dinner tonight, Damian is asking for you.

Jason typed back with one hand

Jason: working.

Dicks icon flashed on his screen. He declined the call turning off his phone.

From the other side of the wall Kali had finally stopped crying.

Jason found himself hoping that they were both asleep.

When Friday rolled around you found your self excited to leave the house.

You had seen Jason in bits and pieces over the past week, having small conversations whenever you’d see each other.

You started to really enjoy his company.

He just made you feel sane for once.

You stood infront of the mirror trying to tame your hair with damp hands. After five minutes of struggle you decided it would just be easier to let it down. If you couldn’t get it to work now, you weren’t gonna.

You fit Kali in her favourite little cream knitted onesie, pulling the matching hat over her wispy locks.

Her hair was a colour that didn’t run in your family. You had to assume it came from her father. The thought made you cringe.

You loved it because it was her. Not him. You reminded yourself.

“There”

You smiled tapping her nose

“Now you look prettier than me”

Kali rewarded you with a sleepy little coo.

Your heart melted.

That was definitely a lot better than crying.

The door creaked as you stepped inside. You were immediately greeted with the scent of grease and oil.

You cringed gently pressing Kali’s face into your shirt.

Jason was underneath a truck only his legs showing another mechanic greeted you from the reception desk.

“Hey gorgeous can I help you?”

You flushed at the pet name

“I’m here to pick up my car”

Before the man could answer Jason was right infront of you.

“I got it.”

He wiped the grease off his hands on a rag before nodding at Kali.

“Nice hat”

You looked down at her smiling.

“Thanks”

“I didn’t mean yours”

You laughed

“I figured.”

The other mechanic looked between you too with raised eyebrows.

Jason ignored him.

“Just give me a sec”

He disappeared into the office.

The other mechanic leaned back on his chair, a painful groan filling the air.

“Didn’t ever think I’d see Jay smiling”

You blinked

“He smiles?”

The man laughed

“Exactly”

Jason appeared Back from the room holding a piece of paper.

He handed it to you.

An invoice.

$250

You stared at it.

He really had kept the price the same.

“Again, I’m happy to cover it”

You rolled your eyes

“I think a $450 dollar discount is enough”

You pulled your wallet from your bag.

Two hundred

Twenty

Fifty

2 tens

A five

Two more fifties

And an another five.

All the cash you had before your final pay check.

You slid the notes into his hand.

Jason didn’t bother counting them, just waved the keys in Kali’s face.

She let out a little giggle.

You tried not the cry at the sound.

You took them.

“I can’t thank you enough Jason, really.”

He gave a short nod.

“Come take a look”

You followed him outside.

Your car looked…

Normal.

The new windows glistened in the sun, it was cleaned and polished.

There was no more glass in the seats.

You let out a laugh of astonishment.

“You cleaned it.”

“Had glass everywhere.”

Your brows furrowed

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“S’where the kid sits”

Your throat tightened.

He’d thought about Kali.

You tried not to cry.

“Jason…”

“It’s done, you have to take it”

You were gonna cry. You were gonna cry for the second time in this stupid store. You were in his debt. Greatly.

“I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You already did”

“The cookies?”

He nodded.

“They were good”

“I don’t believed you”

“Finished them in a day, had to hide them from my brothers”

“You don’t have to lie”

“I’m not”

His face was completely serious.You burst out into laughter.

“I genuinely cant tell when you’re joking.”

He frowned.

“I’m not”

That only made you laugh harder.

Jason watched you for a second.

A small genuine smile etched onto his face.

It was so cute.

“You should smile more.”

It left you before you could even think. Jason’s smile disappeared instantly.

“Why?”

You shrugged

“I don’t know it suits you.”

He looked away his ears going a subtle shade of red.

“Hmph”

You immediately regretted saying it.

“Sorry”

“You apologise too much”

He blurted, Kali let a squeak from her carrier.

“Boss agrees”

You giggled.

“Shush both of you.”

When Jason got home from his shift it was nearing 4:00am.

He was exhausted.

And worse.

He couldn’t stop thinking of you.

He felt a strange sense of protectiveness around you that he couldn’t understand.

He kept listening for the baby near the walls. Though he had heard it less lately. She had been sleeping more.

Jason groaned.

He needed to stop.

It was none of his business.

He decided he need a distraction. His bike was perfect for that. He 100% wasn’t allowed to have it in here, but the scrawny landlord was too scared to say anything when he carried it in.

As soon as he began he was interrupted by two frantic knocks on the door.

He already knew who it was.

“Jacey open up”

Dick.

Jason reluctantly opened the door. Dick stood there holding a takeaway bag.

“Why didn’t you pick up my calls?”

Jason nodded to the bike raising his eyebrows at Dick.

“Busy”

Dick gave him a skeptical glare

“Clearly”

He walked through the door, slamming into Jason’s shoulder in the process.

He let out a huff.

“You know you tell me your fine, but a fine person would reply to my texts”

Jason scoffed.

“I did.”

“Working.”

“I was”

Dick fell back onto the couch, pulling a burger out of his bag.

Jason tolerated Dick but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being tested. That Dick would take one look at the unpacked boxes, and the barely organised furniture and report it back to Bruce.

Maybe he was just paranoid.

“You move in okay?”

“Mhm”

Dick kicked his feet up on the table.

“You know we can afford to get you into a better apartment. This place is a shithole at best.”

Jason huffed, Dick wasn’t wrong. But he hated cushy. What was the point of having some mansion when he spent more time at the shop anyways.

He liked the noise too. It relaxed him in a way the manor never did.

“I like it”

Dick laughed, throwing the rubbish from his food at him.

“Hey who am I to yuck your yum?”

A shrill cry echoed from behind the walls

Dick cringed.

Jason didn’t.

“Baby neighbour?”

“Mhm” jason hummed in between bites of his burger.

“Cute”

Jason shrugged.

“Very loud.”

“Parents seem alright?”

Jason paused, thinking of what to say without giving too much away.

“Just the mom”

Dick noticed his hesitance immediately.

“You’ve actually spoken to her”

Jason tried to act like he hadn’t been thinking about you right before he had arrived.

“She was a customer.”

“And?”

“That’s it.”

It was the truth as much as he didn’t like it. Though, Dick didn’t look too convinced.

“And somehow you know she lives alone?”

Jason shot him a look.

“Ive got eyes”

Dicks grin widened, he had a look on his face like he had won the lottery. Jason couldn’t stand it.

“What?”

“Nothing”

“Just say it so I can kick you out.”

“You like helping strays”

Jason rolled his eyes. What the hell did that even mean? He didn’t like that word, stray. If anything you were taking him in.

“Shes not a stray.”

“No?”

“No.”

His smile widened if that was even possible. Jason was disgusted at the sight.

“What is it now?”

“Nothing. Just, you seem pretty defensive over a customer”

Jason rolled his eyes.

“Get out.”

The apartment was quiet for once.

Usually you’d take that opportunity to sleep but you needed to finally face your financial dilemma.

You needed to find a job.

Scrolling through the possible workplaces you couldn’t find anything that suited you.

Waitress

You couldn’t be on your feet for that long.

Data analyst

What?

Personal assistant

Maybe

You saved the tab for that one

You were brought out of your search by a knock on the door.

You froze.

Please don’t let it be the landlord, please.

Oh.

Standing in your doorway was, Jason, holding a stack of pizzas.

He scratched the back of his head before speaking.

“Hi”

You replied, eyes flicking in between him and the food.

“My idiot brothers ordered 12 pizzas to my house as some sort of prank, I was wondering if you were hungry?”

You let out a hearty laugh.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had a real meal. Living off of various canned food and toast.

Your mouth watered at the thought of pizza.

“What toppings?”

He sighed at that his brows furrowing.

“The fuckers only put olives”

You burst out in laughter at that. It wasn’t just the prank, it was more so the astonished look on his face.

“What? how can you not like olives?”

“Well I can’t get through 12 pizzas on my own so take them.”

He pushed the boxes into your arms and you took them stepping to the side. Couldn’t hurt.

“Did you want to come in?”

He paused giving you a curious look.

“As long as it’s ok with the boss”

You grinned.

“Shes asleep. So as long as she stays that way, we’re fine”

He paused like he was pondering saying something before he spoke.

“Haven’t heard her cry in a minute, been doing better?”

You tried not to cling to the tone in his voice. He just sounded like he cared.

“She definitely still cries, but yeah, better”

You leaned into him like you were gonna tell him a secret.

“And get this, she slept through the night last night. It was beautiful”

His eyebrows rose, as an almost celebratory grin etched onto her face.

“You gotta watch out for her, you may be raising the next Batman.”

You laughed.

“If shes anything like her mother, not happening.”

You made a gesture for him to come in and he followed you into the kitchen, looking around the crowded apartment.

“Sorry it’s not very clean”

That was a lie, it was actually the cleanest it had been in a while.

“Cleaner than mine”

“I don’t believe that”

He scoffed.

“It’s true”

He took a second sitting down in your dining room. The sight was almost comical. He looked like an action figure in a dollhouse. Hunched over to fit into the small chair.

“I’ll get some plates”

“You don’t have to”

“I want to”

You rummaged through the cupboards before producing two similar-ish plates.

“Sorry”

“For what?”

“They don’t match”

He chuckled, looking between the plates.

“They’re plates”

“You always so practical?”

He thought about it for a second before shrugging

“Mostly”

You snorted looking down at the pizzas

“You serve yourself because I don’t know how much you eat”

He chuckled at that

“I think I could eat the whole thing, minus the olives”

“Maybe 12 was an understatement from your brothers then”

He rolled his eyes at that.

“Don’t remind me, what am I gonna do with all this food?”

He paused, a smirk etching onto his features.

“You think big boss can help us?”

You started laughing at that.

“Pizza infused formula sounds pretty good to me”

He cringed, opening his mouth to say something before your stomach cut him off with a loud growl.

You froze heat rising to your cheeks

Jason looked up.

“I skipped lunch.”

And breakfast, but you kept that to yourself.

He nodded in understanding before putting half the pizza on your plate.

“Eat.”

You smiled ripping off a piece, but before you could take a bite, a loud wailing sound rang out from your bedroom.

“Opps sorry, one second”

You sprang up a little too quickly, the room tilted in response.

You hand shot to the back of Jason’s chair to steady yourself.

He was already on his feet

“You okay?”

“Yeah.”

You weren’t. Gosh. You needed to get a hold of yourself. He probably thought you were the biggest mess.

“Just got up too fast”

He frowned.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded.

“I’m okay, you don’t need to worry about me”

You forced a smiled, though the look on his face told you he wasn’t convinced.

But before he could say anything else, Kali let out another cry, a louder one. And you quickly stumbled into her room.

Jason watched you disappear down the hallway. Once you were gone, his eyes drifted to the kitchen.

Sitting beside the sink was your pantry you had left open.

His eyes lingered on the shelf.

Salt.

Canned corn.

Instant noodles

Two cans of formula.

And half a loaf of bread.

Jason realised then.

She didn’t skip lunch.

She didn’t have it.

His chest tightened.

#dcu #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd rec #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #red hood #jason todd fic #jason todd angst #jason todd #dick grayson #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #mechanic!jason #single mom! reader

mirrormauve

drag path

simon 'ghost' riley x f!reader | soulmate!au | 12.8k (oops)

Just because you were bonded, Ghost was all too aware, didn't mean you would stay together.

this is part 2 to faultlines in which Ghost didn’t want a soulmate, and he was sure, if they existed, that they didn’t want him either.

cw; soulmate!au in which soulmates share scars, abandonment issues, loneliness, references to self-harm, lots of talk about scars, angst, fluff, references to domestic abuse and past violence, references to simon's past, descriptions of pain, description of torture, canon typical violence, military inaccuracies, miscommunication, touch aversion, reallllly slow slowburn, ghost being sort of really bad and weird at affection and communication, making out, two people being so weird and intense about each other

Simon was not familiar with comfort.

theunfortunate-author

my daily affirmation as an author

sheepispink

Crush

rookie!reader x lt ghost in which you realise you dont know how to address these feelings for your lieutenant

no cw, fluff, romance , mentions of a stab wound, very silly and fluff.

a/n: this takes place after they kiss and rookie wants to address it but doesnt know how, but idk after that. It’s a silly chapter and also not completely proofread but it’s fluffy and soooo much romance i heard your call guys i deliver

Rookie Masterlist

——

“You like him, dont you?”

“No— it’s not like that!”

That’s what you’ve been telling yourselves for weeks now, especially after he had kissed your head just before leaving for a mission. There’s nothing casual about that— surely? You brushed it off, wallowed over it while he was gone, then tried to ignore it altogether when he came back and didn't act all that different to you at all.

He was a lieutenant— you should’ve known there was absolutely no way, a rookie and a Lieutenant? Yeah, no chance.

So you’ve been forcing it down the back of your mind since, not letting your cheeks burn even for a second else you ruined a perfectly good relationship you already had with him. That’s right, you couldnt possibly afford to mistreat his kindness for something like that— he’d think you’re a freak for real this time and actually call HR. He had threatened already when you stupidly said he was hot but you refuse to regret that too much— you’re allowed to acknowledge a man’s attractiveness. A compliment if you will.

nights

prev -current (pt.2)- next

masterlist

summary: After you befriend Damian Wayne, the 12 year old in your pre med class, you can’t shake the feeling you’re constantly being watched. One night when you try to protect him from Gotham’s favourite crime lord ‘Red Hood’ everything changes.

Parings: Jason Todd x reader, Damian Wayne x reader (platonic), DonnaRoy!

Tags: Alcohol, cigarettes, mentions of sex, slowburn, fluffy, mentions of violence, blood, reader lwk doesnt like Jason, art creds to stefphe on tiktok!

Notes: lwk I hate this but it’s done so that counts for something. Between school and work expect pt 3 is a mystery.

Divider creds to @cephalo-fox

I am so close to finishing pt 2 of nights I can see the light

fawnindawn

ON THE SAME PAGE

summary: jason has no weaknesses. especially not that one bookstore keeper he visits every week. he merely needs new book recommendations, and you're the only person he's willing to trust. about the books, obviously. or jason todd falls miserably, pathetically in love with a bookstore keeper who insults him on first recommendation.

pairing: jason todd x fem! reader

You don't expect any customers tonight, not when Friday's are usually associated with activities more enthralling than a shabby bookstore that smells faintly of over-stewed tea. Your fingers itch to flip the signboard around to 'Closed', but they squeeze habitually around your mug instead. A brown rim has formed around the interior from the untouched tea left hours ago when sunlight still graced the shelves near the window seat.

Three minutes to closing, you decide to give the store the respectful grace of being a decent employee and waiting for the clock to strike eleven. At least, that's the excuse you give yourself. Your fingers tap lightly against the solid wood of the make-shift counter, a haphazardly placed desk shoved between shelves and boxes that are to be sent to the recycling center tomorrow. Your life is almost perfectly mundane.

The bell rings.

Almost, except for one sole factor. Your gaze shifts, your neck craning towards the door. Here, you thought your last visitor would finally break the pattern. It's certainly not Margery, a lady who thinks herself the most important customer to this small establishment, always inventing new cons in a skewed attempt to bargain for more free books as gifts for her many nieces and nephews.

This visitor carries a scent of smoke, broad shoulders stretching out a worn, leather jacket. Even from your skewed view, half his back turned towards you, he's gorgeous as he always is. Almost out of place, body stiff as his gaze glances past the stained glass stickers pasted onto the windows, shading the jagged line over his cheek in reds and blues. A familiar, brute tension stuffed into his posture, shadows striking his skin. Smaller, faint scars litter his jawline, and one prominent jagged line is carved into his cheek.

Your secret visitor, who brings in the scent of iron, faint bruises across his cheek on some nights, that goes by the name, Jason.

alexfan99

nights

All my night, been ready for you all my night

summary: After you befriend Damian Wayne, the 12 year old in your pre med class, you can’t shake the feeling you’re constantly being watched. One night when you see him around Gotham’s favourite crime lord ‘Red Hood’ everything changes.

parings:Jason Todd x reader, Damian Wayne x reader (platonic)

Tags: Violence, fluff, Damian is Robin, reader and Damian is a med student,

A/n: Originally open hearts but I felt like nights fit better so it changed! reader doesnt swear.Idk why I thought it would be cute. But if you want her to she can! This was #notproofread woo!

amaranthinespirit

neighbor!simon riley risking bodily harm to help you out (again, without you asking) pt. 1 — pt. 2

things have been going, for the most part, smoothly. you still haven't managed a full conversation, but he's helped you with everything you've asked for, including planting pretty flowers at both his and yours house—you insisted on matching ones and he couldn't refuse.

but with the way it's been pouring down rain for the past few days, you haven't seen him. it's not like you would've dragged him out of the comfort of his house so he could come help you.

so you relaxed on your arm chair with a warm drink and your kindle, taking another lazy day to read with rain pattering in the back. until you heard a noise that was too loud to be rain. it sounded like heavy footfalls on top of your roof—impossible, it's pouring rain and slippery as hell.

another thud jolted you, and you threw your head back with a gasp. okay, who the hell is on your roof? they're disturbing the peace, and frustration mounts with every bump and thud.

grabbing the nearest jacket without bothering to put on shoes, you stormed out the front door—the sounds came from the front of the house the loudest. you couldn't see anything from the protection of the porch, forcing you under the spray of pounding rain.

and who do you see but simon.

you had a suspicion it was him, but seeing his dark silhouette on your roof made your heart flutter and something in your abdomen warm. the rain quickly soaked your hair and clothes, but it couldn't be worse than him. he looked like a wet dog.

"what are you doing?" you called out over the pummeling rain.

he scowled when he finally noticed you. "wot the fuck are you doin'?" his voice boomed louder than the occasional thunder.

"I asked you first!"

with a grunt, he climbed down the house with ease, manifesting at your side like your own rain cloud. his body shielded you from the spray of rain that fell at an angle.

"y'could get sick." he nudged you towards the ajar front door.

you roll your eyes, ignoring the flutter over your body. "you could get sick!" you parroted but allowed him to guide you back inside. without being asked, he stepped out of his soaked boots and shrugged his dripping coat off. underneath, his white shirt was completely see through, clinging to the divots of his abs and chest.

you fought the swallow in your throat and the warmth that bloomed over your face. jesus. you'd seen him without a shirt before—when he fixed your car—but this was different, sinful.

if he notices your stares, he doesn't say anything. just pushes past towards the closet, that he somehow knows where it is, to grab towels. you think he's helping himself before he's taking off the coat you're wearing, that's soaked, and replacing it with a warm towel.

why is he fussing over you? he's the one who's been outside in the rain for god knows how long.

"mind telling me what you were doing on my roof in the pouring rain?" no doubt, it was him finding another way to help you. as you wait for his explanation, you grab him by the belt and tug him further into your house.

"gutter's were clogged."

you wait for him to say more, but he doesn't. he lets you drag him along until you're in your tiny hallway bathroom. it fits you just fine, but with him looming over your shoulder, it feels crowded. you've noticed in the past just how massive he is, but now that he's beside you, your arm grazing and bumping his abdomen, the size difference really is astonishing. heat radiates from his skin, and it could be feverish.

"you could've waited until the rain had stopped." you scold. "what if you got sick?"

he just shrugs, and a groan of frustration rumbles in your chest. his eyes crinkled at the corners with amusement, and he swipes a stray drop of water from your hair off your neck.

"you're impossible, simon." you turn your back to him, setting the towels you grabbed on the countertop. "you should shower unless you really want to get sick. leave your clothes outside the door and i'll dry them for you."

without waiting for a response, you leave. the door clicks shut, and you're left in the hallway, listening to the rustle of wet clothes as he undresses. you shake the thought of him naked from your mind, heading down the hall to start a warm drink for him. while the water warms, you go back to collect his clothes and throw them in the dryer—after ringing out the excess water trapped in the fabric.

when the water's done heating, you prepare a drink you think he'd enjoy. too wrapped up in the preparation, you don't hear the water shut off down the hall, the door, or the soft falls of his footsteps—to be fair, he walks like a ghost. turning around, he's just there. against the doorframe, towel low on his hips to expose the veins that disappear past it. he tied one around his head, concealing his face while his other mask was getting dried. it almost made you laugh.

your throat goes dry again, and with shaky hands, you set the mug down and slide it towards him. "here. you should drink this." the words are hoarse when spoken. "your clothes are almost done, I can go check."

he shakes his head, disappearing from the kitchen. its annoying how well he knows your house. simon's only gone for a minute, maybe less before he appears—still shirtless. you think he's about to put on his shirt because he's holding it, but he thrusts it towards you.

"go change." he orders.

it remind you that you're still wet from the rain, which you hadn't even noticed because you were too focused on him. you still are, considering he'd been out there for longer. but you listen to him regardless, slipping into the same bathroom to change. it was really only your shirt and pants that got wet, so you stripped and put his shirt on. it's massive on you, the hem falling to your knees and the neckline slipping off one shoulder. it still reeked of him, and you couldn't help but hold the fabric over your nose and inhale deeply. it's a warm scent.

when you emerged back down the hall, there was another mug to join the one he sipped from. he put his coat back on, but it was unzipped to expose his bare chest underneath. hyper aware of your lack of clothes, you settled on the stool next to his. steam curled over your face, and you took a moment to let it. it warmed what the rain had frozen, but something else was burning your skin. simon's eyes were trained on the side of your face, just watching and observing like you were the most fascinating thing on earth.

you turned to meet his gaze, noticing the pink that tinged the skin under his eyes and across his nose.

"you're an anomaly, simon." you whispered before taking a sip of your drink. it's made exactly the way you like it. weird. simon doesn't reply. you didn't expect him to. you sat in silence, drinking your warm beverages.

fawnindawn

FAKE-DATING OPERATION.

summary: when you struck the arrangement with damian wayne to act as your fake boyfriend for a party hosted by your ex and ex-best friend—you thought your choice made perfect sense. choosing damian wayne, the most logical, unattainable person you knew, removes the complication of feelings being involved. till of course, damian stops pretending.

pairing: damian wayne x fem! reader

content: flufff, damian wayne is a yearner and takes his role of being your pretend boyfriend very seriously.

"You are suggesting I partake in a fake relationship—" Damian Wayne stares down at you, still dressed in his lab coat, with what may be the closest to genuine concern you've ever seen on him, all cramped into the crease of his brows. "To help with your dilemma?"

"Exactly." Your grin is the only positive staple throughout this entire exchange, after your successful cornering of only the most unattainable medical student of Gotham University. "It's like a fancy title for an assignment partner but removing the word 'assignment', right?"

"Assuming that your ambitious plan would even work." Crossing his arms, Damian looks more unimpressed over your carefully planned spreadsheet titled 'Fake-Dating Operation' than the earlier assigned pairings by Dr. Lake. "Do humour me on your astounding confidence that I would even offer my assistance."

"We're already assigned together for the semester." You shrug. "What's one reunion party, and an hour spent pretending you don't hate my guts like you do with everyone else?"

He stares at you for a long beat, before his lips twitch into the smallest smirk. "I appreciate your attempts at lowering my expectations further on how idlers are able to accomplish wasting hours in a day. I expect your section of the report to be done by Sunday."

"Wait!" Your hand reaches out to grab at the ends of his sleeve as he moves past you. "I am an amazing fake partner. I provide free dog walks, cookies, amazing work ethic—it's practically a free service just for a little acting on your part!"

"I appreciate the desperation, and the answer is still a no."

iheartyuyu

[very strong suicidal themes and strong topics. can not stress enough these warnings, reader is suicidal. v strong self projection... english isn’t my first language.]

the first time you ever had a proper conversation with sukuna ryomen, he saved your life.

that day was supposed to be your last, really. you had everything planned— letters written, belongings labeled with who to give them to, a plan in mind, and no doubt in your heart on what you were going to do.

you had nothing left.

your family would move on. your friends were already so busy, which would help. they would be distracted and they would move on, too. nothing in the world would stop, the world would continue spinning, and you were just so, utterly tired. you didn’t care about ‘being selfish’, all you cared about was just how badly you needed everything to stop.

you were just so tired.

too tired, in fact, to focus on anything as you walked into the roof of a frat party, deciding to enjoy one last party before you could finally rest. the roof was surprisingly empty, and you stood near the edge, leaning on the ledge quietly, eyes down on everyone partying downstairs, laughing and dancing and enjoying their best years.

the view was slowly becoming more blurry, your eyes glossing over with tears, taking a quiet, shaky breath, mourning the happiness you failed to ever achieve.

just then, the roof door slammed open, a loud groan echoing. “fucking choso always giving people the key. hey, you.”

you glanced over, gaze blank, vision cloudy with tears that you forced not to drop, and you paused. you could identify the tan, pink-haired frat president even with your vision blurry— fuck, probably even with your eyes shut.

sukuna ryomen was known.

the usual cliché frat president, really. a heartless asshole who’s great in bed, with a burning hot temper and knuckles that are always bruised with strangers’ faces to match. although, he definitely was prettier than any guy you had ever seen— not that it mattered, really, you never cared enough to focus on pretty guys when your first priority was to survive, but he was easy on the eyes.

for some reason, the 6’4 football player froze as soon as your eyes met. you only blinked blankly, barely able to properly see him, lack of lights on the roof and tears not helping the slightest. you sniffled, praying your voice doesn’t crack as you spoke. “sorry, am i not supposed to be here?”

he was frozen for a few more seconds, then frowned. “you’re in my monday class.”

you blinked, not expecting him to recognize you, before slowly nodding, not trusting your voice to not shake if you spoke again, he stared at you for a while longer, before walking over, leaning on the ledge beside you.

you didn’t care enough to overthink it, really, not enough to even think twice about why the life of the party was on the roof beside you instead of doing a line of shots downstairs. instead, you resumed staring at the party downstairs, trying to enjoy the last few hours—

“i don’t know you that well, but,” sukuna murmured, voice low. you blinked once, thanking the darkness for concealing the tears that finally dropped, keeping your gaze ahead as he sighed. you expected him to say something shallow, irrelevant— the kind of stuff frat boys spew to random girls on rooftops. “give it another try.”

you blinked, mind going blank for a moment. you were quiet for a beat, eyebrows slowly furrowing in confusion, because there was simply no way he was saying what you thought he was. “…what?”

“give it another try.” he grunted, voice low, serious. “one year ago, i was standing on this stupid roof with those exact tired, hopeless eyes and coming up with a plan because i wanted everything to stop. now ‘m fucking thriving.”

you froze, quiet and silent, heart beating too loud that you couldn’t hear your own thoughts anymore. sukuna kept getting blurrier, but you saw his head move to look at you before he sighed loudly. “…i’m not going to do anything, not even stop you. but, i know exactly how you feel, and i’m promising you, it really does get so much fucking better.”

“…bullshit,” you mumbled. your voice was quiet, hissed between gasps that were a pathetic attempt not to cry. he only hummed, quiet.

“i would have answered that way, too.” he muttered, voice quieter. “funny, isn’t it?”

you didn’t answer. you kept staring straight ahead, and sniffled. after a few quiet minutes, you breathed out, trying not to bawl in front of the stranger in your class. “…what stopped you?”

he let out a faint chuckle. it sounded sad.

“…you.” he muttered. you turned to him this time, utterly confused, no longer caring about the tears streaming down your face and how much of a mess you definitely looked. if he was looking at you in disgust, you definitely wouldn’t have noticed through the tears, anyways. his voice remained almost gentle, though. “that was the semester i never forgot to bring a fucking pen with me. everyday i showed up, and no one had an extra one, and i had to go get one from outside the fucking room. then, that day, i showed up, and you had two. you got one for me, a stranger, and i realized that maybe i wasn’t as invisible and meaningless as i felt.”

your breath halted, body freezing, tears flowing even faster. you could feel the neckline if your hoodie soaked with tears from how long you had been crying, but it barely registered in your mind when sukuna was casually mentioning that the reason he stood alive in front of you today was because you brought him a fucking pen. your eyes were wide, lips wobbling as they parted wordlessly, and you could finally make out the faint, sad smile on his lips.

“i just planned to raincheck it, you know. couldn’t let your pens go to waste. but, by the time the semester ended, i felt... better. i remember fucking laughing then, because holy fucking shit, it really does get better.” he stated calmly, reaching over, warm fingers wiping your tears in a way rhat was so nonchalant that it almost made you laugh. “so, trust me, i know how it feels. gets really fucking better.”

“…what if it doesn’t?” you finally manage to choke out. he hummed quietly, taking the time to think, before his fingers dropped away from your face.

“then you will get better,” he spoke, voice serious. “you’ll heal and adapt.”

“i don’t think i have it in me, sukuna.” you whimpered. “i don’t… i’m so tired…”

strong, yet gentle arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a solid chest. he held you so firmly yet so carefully, as if you were going to break if he breathed wrong.

“…let’s try,” he whispered, a hand gently sliding to hold your head gently as you broke, sobbing, the sound muffled by his shirt, which you definitely were ruining. “one more try. just one more, and then ‘ll never bother you anymore. i’ll even give you a pen, just one more semester, okay?”

you sobbed harder. he held you patiently, waiting for your cries to die down, never once loosening his grip, fingers carefully rubbing your back to comfort you. after a few minutes, you finally pulled away, harshly wiping your tears, and he spoke again, voice even quieter. “one semester, and then i’ll let you do whatever you want, i promise. please.”

you rubbed your eyes harder, as if that would remove the pounding headache that refused to leave you, even in your worst moments. “…you don’t have to be involved in this, sukuna.”

“i want to be.” he immediately argued, no hesitation. “least i can do after you saved my life, really.”

“that’s stupid. i just gave you a stupid pen.”

“that stupid pen saved my life,” he repeated, frowning. “please? please.”

you scoffed, the sleeves of your hoodie still covering your palms that you had pressed to your eyes; avoiding looking at him. “…i really don’t want you burdened.”

“you think i would do this if i didn’t want to?” he grunted. “have you heard nothing about me?”

you were quiet for a while, before you finally sighed.

you already had everything written and packed, plan ready, everything prepared. you already survived for twenty years, a few more months weren’t too bad, right? and it wasn’t like you had to force yourself if things became unbearable again, you could always just… do it.

worst case, sukuna would just end up as another letter in your life.

eventually, the curiosity of how sukuna thought he could ever make things better won, and you sighed, sniffling as you dropped your palms off your eyes, looking at him, your eyes exhausted and swollen. “…one semester.”

sukuna ryomen grinned like he won the fucking lottery. “i promise you, you’ll never regret this.”

and years later, as you laid in bed, turning off the alarm set for you to go to a job in a career you finally felt comfortable in, sitting in a room with mirrors you no longer despised even glancing at, with sukuna’s heavy arm wrapped around your waist because your clingy husband refused to let you get out of bed with ease, your lips twitched into a small, tiny smile.

yeah, gets really fucking better.

a/n: this was lowk horrible but using this fic to cope so it doesn’t matter anyways. do u guys like my new dividers I LOVE THEM shoutout to my tumblr crush fr <3

liability

summary: After a mission with Damian Wayne goes side ways, and Damian ends up hypothermia vigilante reader decides the only way to save him is with body heat?

Tags: enemies to lovers (kinda), nudity, fluff, no smut, aged up! Damian Wayne, vigilante! Reader, mention of injury,

Comment: I love this idea sm it came to me miraculously and it had been marinating in my drafts for a good bit. But I’m finished alleluia.

When Bruce had asked (forced) you to pair up with Damian for a LuthorCorp infiltration you had begged him to pick anyone but you, for two main reasons;

One, you cannot stand cold weather. Even the slightest chill had you piling on blankets and pumping up the thermostat. And Moscow wasn’t just any average cold, it was a borderline blizzard.

Two, well, to put it mildly, you could not handle working with Damian Wayne. Was he good at his job? Absolutely, in fact, he was the most skilled you had ever seen. But skills only take you so far, beyond his talents.. he was the most arrogant, obnoxious and snobby person you had ever met.

“I gave you one job, to contact Batman about the safe house.” He snarled, an annoyed tone in his voice.

“If you can’t even handle simple technology, I don’t understand why you’re here.”

You rolled your eyes not bothering to respond. You banged the side if the device against your hands and it whined then fizzled out. Damian let put a pained hiss.

“My skills are more than sufficient. Your “help” is merely useless”

He stated harshly, snatching the device out of your hand, fiddling with it until it snapped back to life. You shifted onto your good leg, like your body began to bear the weight of his words.

“I told Batman you were merely a liability to me.”

You rolled your eyes, what a gentleman. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to be an asshole or if just came natural to him. Although ‘liability’ might be the highest praise from Damian Wayne.

“Just shut the fuck up, Damian.”

you scoffed, trying to keep your voice steady, despite the shiver you couldn't seem to shake.

“No real names on the field.”

You didn’t even bother replying, just shot him a glare only to find him wearing the same expression that you knew you had on your face.

His eyebrows were furrowed into his signature grimace, although it faltered when you had locked your eyes onto his. The expression was so slight that it was barely noticeable. For a second he had a look on his face you had never seen before. He looked lost, almost like he was conflicted.

After he broke eye contact his scowl seemed to deepen before he turned away to fiddle with the zipper on his jacket.

You decided to not let it bother you, storing the odd experience in your memory bank, and opting to focus on not slipping on the shiny ice that expanded over the frozen river.

“Wait” Damian said with a scoff, putting his hand on your shoulder. It wasn’t until he unwrapped the scarf around his neck that you realised what he was doing.

“I don’t need it.”

He made a “tsk” sound with his tongue before he tried to put the scarf around you himself.

“You’re shivering, I’m not cold, there’s no need to be prideful”

You rolled your eyes. So now you were the prideful one? Anger began to bubble up beneath your skin.

“Fine, I’ll take it but don’t come crying to me when you’re shivering”

You said flicking the scarf over your shoulder. It smelled like him. Like smoke and warmth, you hated how you liked it.

“Don’t hold your breath” he scoffed, an almost prideful smirk adjourning his features.You hoped he froze.

As the two of you continued your journey to the safe house you hated yourself more and more with every step you took.

You should’ve pretended your leg was acting up, and convinced Bruce to choose someone else. There was only a 50% he’d believe you, being that world’s greatest detective and all, but it was worth a shot.

Instead your first mission back had ended up in freaking Antartica. The cold sucked and it seemed to obly make your injury worse. Every step you took caused a dull ache to shoot up your leg, like a reminder of your weakness.

Lord, You wanted to complain, but your guilt sawllowed every word before it could leave your mouth. Damian was carrying most of the things you needed for your mission, as well and his own gear. He refused to let you carry more than your body could handle. You hated that. Hated that he thought you were weak, hated that everyone treated you differently. Hated knowing that they weren’t wrong.

As if your leg had taken that personally a sharp pain had shot through your knee. After that it all went downhill.

Your foot slipped.

Then the world tipped beneath you.

“Shit-“

You threw your weight onto your good leg, but after today’s exhaustion it gave out. You twisted away from Damian, desperate not to drag him down with you.

It wasn't enough.

He had instinctively caught your arm, in an attempt to steady you, but it was futile. Your legs refused to cooperate. Your momentum carried you straight into him causing you to slam into his abdomen. Hard.

Already burdened by two packs of gear, he staggered backwards. His boots scuffled, searching for purchase on the ice, but there was none. He slipped. Falling in a way that felt entirely wrong for Gotham’s seemingly perfect assassin.

Then, to your horror, his back slammed against the thin sheet of ice beneath you and in an instant it gave way, shattering, and he disappeared into the dark water of the river.

“DAMAIN”

You screeched, as you felt your blood run cold in a way that wasn't caused by the weather. You fell to your knees, and reached your hand into the small pool of river water, searching around for the boy.

When his head finally surfaced, you felt relief wash over you. Taking a deep breath, you submerged both your arms under the water and used all your strength to pull him to the land. The cold water feeling like pins against your skin.

He coughed, spitting river water out as he violently shivered against the ice.

Oh God. Oh god.

This was it. You had killed him. First mission back and you had killed Damian Wayne.

You sat his body against yours and wrapped him in your jacket. Using your hands to make friction against his body.

“I’m so sorry Damian”

He let out a groan of your name in response his eyes fluttering but not opening.

“You need to try and stand up for me okay?”

He nodded, barely lucid, as you pulled him to his feet. Fuck, you were stupid. You felt tears prick against your eyes, as you hobbled to the safe house, following the soft sound of the gps like it was a lifeline.

“We’re almost there. Okay? Please don’t fall asleep. Stay awake for me.”

You sniffled, your body shaking, because of the cold, because you were running out of strength. But mostly because you were scared.

“Talk to me. Please Dami”

He groaned at that, his eyes fluttering open as he looked at you. A tiredness in his eyes that he had never let you see before.

“Did you just..”

You paused. His voice was rough, the sound was painful to your ears.

“Did I What?”

He blinked dazedly like he had lost the thought.

“Did you call me Dami?”

Heat rushed to your face

“Just focus on keeping warm Damian.”

You tried your best not to think about the pain of your leg as you stumbled in the snow. The adrenaline helped. Barely, but it kept you on your feet.

You never thought you’d be happy to see one of the justice leagues dingy safe house, but if it meant saving Damian from hypothermia well, you’d spend a couple nights.

“We’re here, time to get you warmed up.”

You plopped him on the carpet against the couch, trying to decide your course of action. Before you saw the glint of the small porcelain tub

“I’m gonna take your clothes off ok?”

You didn’t wait for an answer before you shrugged your jacket off him and tore through his soaked clothes, leaving him nude against the rug. You couldn’t help but let your eyes linger on his bare body. He was probably freezing alive but his figure…wow.

You snapped yourself out of it wrapping him in a blanket, and heading for the tub.

You turned the facet, a painful creaking sound filling the air, but nothing happened. You turned it further, the rusted metal screamed but you kept going, desperate.

“Fucking piece of fucking shit”

You kicked the tub, the clanging sound echoing throughout the room.

Fuck. Damian was dying and you were having a rage episode. You needed to get a hold of yourself.

When you went back to the couch, Damian was shrugging the blankets off of him, his chest was rising and falling rapidly, as he groaned.

“Too hot. M’hot”

Fuck it was getting worse. His shivering had stopped, but his breathing had elevated. If you didn’t warm him up fast he was gonna have permanent damage. Or worse.

“Damian you need to keep the blanket on, ok?”

You quickly pulled him back into the thick material tucking him in order to preserve his body heat.

That was it.

body heat.

You helped him to the bed, securing him under the duvet, before you quickly stripped down. Your skin warm under your countless layers of clothing, and slipped beside him. His cold skin sending a shiver down your spine.

You pressed your body to him as close as you could, reaching around to grab his hands in yours.

“You there Dami?”

He groaned in response.

“s’too hot”

You closed your eyes a sense of dread running through you.

“You have hypothermia, ok? You need to warm up or-or”

You cut yourself off before you could continue. You fucked up. You couldn’t imagine what would happen if he didn’t make it. If he had died and it was all your fault. You clutched him closer at the thought.

“Damian. I am so so sorry. I fucked up. I didn’t mean to hurt you I swear. I-I just.”

You didn’t realise how truly distressed you were until the hot tears were falling down your face. Landing on the boy’s already damp skin.

“Please talk to me”

He let out a sigh. His breathing begining to slow down.

“I’m okay.”

He took a second, his eyes flickering down to your face.

“it’s ok”

You sniffled, tangling your legs with his. Hissing at how cold he really was.

“It’s not Damian, I know we’re rude to each other and stuff. But I want you to know I care about you.”

It was the truth. And it shocked you. One of the times Damian had gotten under your skin, he’d somehow made a home there. Maybe it took him almost dying to see it.

You couldn’t see but a soft smile spread across his tired features.

The both of you continued like that, you trying to keep him conscious while he gave short answers or a grunt here and there. After a while you gave up silence stretching between the two of you as you unashamedly counted his breaths.

“M’tired. It’s warm. Nice”

He was warmer now, lucid. Good.

“If you wanna sleep name all of your siblings”

He chuckled, his body relaxing into you.

“Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, Duke”

Hmm his brain seemed to be working. You decided to put it to the test.

“What’s 150 x 21”

he didn’t miss a beat

“3150”

He shuffled, turning around to face you. You leaned your head on his chest, face heating up as you suddenly became more aware of your very vulnerable state.

He raised his brows, his face matching your deep shade of red, and you groaned into his cold skin.

“Don’t look. Aren’t you supposed to be unconscious or something”

He didn’t reply, just pressed you closer to his body, wrapping his arms around your back. His skin was still so cold, but he was definitely warmer than before. You just took a second to listen to the rise and fall of his breathing. He was gonna be okay.

“How are you feeling”

When he didn’t respond, you carefully raised your head up at him.

“Dami?”

He let out a small snore in response. Oh. he had fallen asleep. Pressing your cheek back to his chest you used your breath to further heat up his skin. And before you knew it the stable rise and fall of his chest had lulled you to sleep as well.

⋆.˚.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆✴︎˚｡⋆.𖥔 ݁. ˖˚.⋆

A heavy weight against your chest woke you out of your peaceful slumber. As you slowly became conscious the events of the night before rushed back to you.

Your eyes snapped open.

Fuck. You had fallen asleep.

Damian seemed to be fine though, with his chest pressed against your own, you could feel the beating of his heart, strong and steady.

“Damian are you awake?”

He groaned in response, before suddenly springing up.

“What?!” He looked around, his eyes scanning the two of you before his eyebrows shot up in shock.

“What did you do?”

You tilted your head at him in confusion. But before you could speak he cut you off.

“Did we…?” He said, crimson faced, gesturing your lack of clothing.

you clutched the blanket to your chest. Becoming a bit self conscious about the state of the two of you. Well he definitely looked better.

“No what? Damian. You got hypothermia and this safe house is shit so Ihadtousemybodyheattowarmyouup”

To your surprise Damian started laughing. And not just any laugh, genuine, hearty laughter. The kind that made you begin to chuckle as well.

“Out of all your options you went with body heat?”

He could barely speak, his words coming out in between chuckles.

“Shut up. I was scared you were like half dead, and, and I had to save you like the damsel that you are”

He scoffed his laughter finally dying down. His eyes drifted to the piles of soaked clothing before he seemingly came to some sort of realisation.

“I remember now, I fell through the ice”

“Yep”

“You carried me”

“Dragged you but yep”

“But you leg? How did you?”

You froze. your chest aching with hurt. He didn’t believe you could save him. It shouldn’t have stung but to you it felt like he was validating all of your biggest fears. You tried your best to brush it off.

“That doesn’t sound like a thank you, I literally stripped naked for you. I don’t do that for many”

His eyes trailed down to your body. Lingering on the lazily covered bareness of your skin. The way the light hit you made you look otherworldly.

you had really saved him.

“…Thank you. You went against any and all medical recommendations as well as your medical training and you-“

“This is the worst thank you ever. You literally owe me your life If you don’t remember because I saved it. Your life I saved it.” You interrupted, running your fingers through your hair that had somehow fallen out in the chaos.

Damian gulped, his ears turning bright red at the sight.

“It’s greatly unethical to scold a sick man, in fact,”

Damian began rubbing his arms in a faux shiver.

“I think I feel another cold spell coming on”

You scoffed at his terrible acting.

“What do you say we disregard the central heating?”

You rolled your eyes. Was Damian Wayne really flirting?

“You’re an idiot” said softly the words had no true weight to them. You felt this heaviness in your chest, quickly recognising it as guilt. You had almost killed him and here you were begging for an apology.

“I really fucked up Damian.”

His dark brows furrowed, and he grabbed your wrist trying to stop you but you cut him off before you could begin. You had to say it.

“I’m really sorry, I knew I was loosing my strength my leg gave and, and I Should’ve said something. I swear I tried to twist away from you. But you grabbed me and it was too late.”

You paused trying to gauge his reaction before continuing softer than before.

“I tried so hard not to take you down with me”

Damian paused for a long time, his sharp gaze burning a hole through your face.

“You are impossible.”

You frowned.

“What?!”

He’s never going to forgive you, you’re such an idiot.

“You nearly collapsed trying to save my life”

His eyes flicked down from your forehead to meet yours.

“You ignored your pain, risking all the progress you’ve made to keep me alive.”

His grip on your wrist tightened,

“And somehow you’ve convinced yourself your some villain who tried to kill me”

Your brows furrowed.

“I’m not some victim Damian. I put us both in danger when there wasn’t even an active threat.”

“You didn’t throw me into that river. I fell, the ice broke.”

You rolled your eyes

“Of course I know that-”

“I chose to catch you.”

You let that sink in for a second really looking at him. He looked angry that you were blaming yourself. Like it was completely illogical.

Him cupping your face brought you out of your stupor.

“You’re crying”

“Thanks world’s greatest detective I didn’t realise.” You choked out, trying to decipher the meaning behind his sudden touchiness.

“Please thats my father’s name, you can call me Damian, or Dami as you have seemed to like.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. He really was a big idiot. And you meant biiiiig.

When he reached for you, more of his abdomen had been exposed from under the blanket revealing his tight abs. You felt your face flush. What part of him wasn’t perfect?

“You’re unbelievable.”

“So I’ve heard”

Neither of you moved away.

The space between you two felt impossibly small, until.

“Robin please report- hello Robin?”

The rough static cut through whatever moment the two of you were having, causing you to jump back, while Damian stayed impossibly still.

“Tt. Just give me a minute”

⋆.˚.𖥔 ݁ ˖⋆✴︎˚｡⋆.𖥔 ݁. ˖˚.⋆

Dick’s ETA was 2 hours.

long enough for you two to find clean dry clothes and get comfortable.

Neither of you spoke much. He focused on fixing whatever gadgets you had on you while you searched for any food in the safe house.

Initially, Damian had refused to let you get up and walk around. Not wanting you to put any more strain on your leg than you needed to. But you refused to undo your progress and the pain was at a normal level after the good nights rest the two of you had.

When you sat back down, you decided you couldn’t handle the silence.

“So who’s telling Bruce that half his gear is trapped under ice?”

Damian groaned putting his head in his hands.

“It was weighing me down, I had to detach it before I drowned. Surely it won’t bother him.”

You nodded at his explanation. You would’ve put money on him getting angry, but you kept that to yourself.

“So what I’m hearing is You’ll tell him?”

The both of you continued to tease and bicker with each other until Dick had finally arrived outside the safe house.

You almost weren’t ready to leave yet. Like you’d loose this side of Damian the second you went home.

You stopped him before he reached the door.

He turned, one eyebrow raised.

Without overthinking it, you leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

When you stepped back, Damian looked genuinely speechless.

"...You,"

he said after a long pause, ears turning pink, "are still an idiot."

You grinned.

"Yeah?"

The corner of his mouth twitched.

He placed a kiss on your forehead in return.

“Tt. How have you become more of a liability to my sanity?”

You blinked, giggling.

Luckily Damian was still insufferable. But you’d be concerned if he was any other way.

“Awww high praise from Damian Wayne. Don’t tell me you’re getting soft?”

He groaned, clearing his throat as he looked out the window.

“Please don’t let Grayson see, I’d never hear the end of it”

#dcu #damian al ghul #damian al ghul x reader #damian al ghul x you #damian wayne #damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne fluff #damian wayne x female reader #damian wayne x oc #damian wayne x you #robin damian #dick grayson #batfamily #batfam #batman

sheepispink

PT2 to my neglected beta!reader x toxic 141 (excluding simon), gn!reader

WC: 7.7k part 1 here

Simon thought Johnny was bad enough getting into his head and convincing him to indulge in an actual friendship for once. It didn't help either that getting along with Kyle was as easy as making a remark and laughing together over it. The team created a perfect dynamic, almost unstoppable.

Then came you.

You were always hanging around them, fitting in easily, practically always smiling at his jokes even on missions. Maybe a snide remark back here or there, but it was never more— always balanced. He supposed it was in your nature, as a beta and all, to be perfectly in between like that. Not that Simon was the one to pay much mind to societal matters like that anyway— the battlefield was very different to social gatherings, and the only language he knew was that of violence. It wasn't like he couldn't get by either; it felt like everyone grew up with that small talk ingrained in them from the start. The weather, the latest mission, annoying recruits, the bloody royal family if he really had to.

So, when he started to notice the change around you, he decided to stay out of it. It was plain obvious you felt disappointed when Johnny got an omega, Simon felt a little pang even if he didn't want to. But he didn't know what that feeling meant, and he sure as hell wasn't going to call you out on it. So, he didn't.

bloomflix

like the movies!

abstract: higuruma pissed you off; he’s stupidly smart, punctual, and has all the qualities of being a top future lawyer (even if he seems to have the emotional intelligence of a puddle). all the reasons why you would do anything to be at the top of your shared political theory class. even if it means having to play romcom heroine with him.

tags + cw: college au! hiromi higuruma x reader; 13k w.c ; academic rivals to lovers; rom-com + music references; fluff + smut; a bit corny but that's ok; #repost from my old blog -- art by mizuart_bolillo on twt <3

aniyaps: those who remember this fic... but yeah, it's edited ! (the original draft was written in hs jesus christ... i cringed so bad editing this but it's better now, i swear) this shit was legit my magnum opus but hopefully my college au! choso fic can surpass it… coming soon!

“Liberty isn’t inherently owed,” Hiromi said, tapping his black pen against the mahogany of the table. “It’s a construct that is shaped and regulated by those in power and in turn, rewards control rather than fairness.”

Higuruma’s words echoed throughout the lecture hall— calm, precise, and annoyingly punctual. His tone was crisp and assertive; like listening to him was like listening to a future litigator (probably was).

“To negotiate liberty through the lens of moral fairness is to assume that the system is built on fairness. However, it is designed to maintain hierarchy.”

You thought the pen you held was about to explode considering that you gripped it so tight, your knuckles were turning white. You didn’t even notice the way your jaw clenched at his words.

It’s just that the bastard kept speaking like he knew everything. But that’s the thing. He wasn’t wrong—and that sole fact pissed you off to no avail.

Hiromi Higuruma is smart as hell, top of your class too. However, despite all his academic acclaim, unfortunately, the same praise can't be applied to his... affinity for social interaction. Even a goddamn puddle of spilled coffee would be more charasmatic and warm than him.

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