hi guys i made jason heheh
DEAR READER
Not today Justin

⁂

JVL
No title available
trying on a metaphor
Sade Olutola
will byers stan first human second
Xuebing Du
Stranger Things
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
wallacepolsom
occasionally subtle

Janaina Medeiros
Misplaced Lens Cap

if i look back, i am lost
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
noise dept.

No title available
sheepfilms

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Türkiye
seen from Germany

seen from Türkiye

seen from United States

seen from Australia
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from T1
seen from Türkiye
seen from Spain
seen from Poland

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States

seen from Singapore
@batmilani
hi guys i made jason heheh
THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY
he loves you through wormholes and back!
synopsis: it was just supposed to be a routine mission. but when things start to go wrong and time starts slipping through his fingers, gojo realizes a little too late he might lose you too.
pairing: astronaut!gojo x f!reader x teacher!choso
wc: 14.8k
content: mdni. HEAVY ANGST. smut. character death. inspired by interstellar, time dilation, sad ending, hurt no comfort, unprotected piv sex, teasing, kissing, gojo is so incredibly in love and obsessed with reader, accidental pregnancy, twins, pining, yearning, complicated emotions, misunderstandings, choso is also a lovesick puppy dog, video messages, gojo cries and throws up, moving on, absolutely sadness and despair
art is by @to00fu !! div by @tsumiinum !! this was an incredible commission to write for @dayanim <333
“You’re literally the prettiest girl on the planet.”
You giggled, your mouth curving up into a painfully cute smile as his palms spread your soft thighs further apart. Perfect face tilting to the side as you arched an eyebrow, “Just this planet?”
“All of them,” he easily chuckled, pressing a peck to the inside of your exposed thigh, admiring the expanse of your bare skin, completely naked in his sheets. Sprawled out like his favorite feast, waiting for him to devour.
If he could, he’d swallow you whole and take you with him to space.
Pack you up and bring you with him.
But unfortunately, NASA probably wouldn’t approve of him stowing you away on his final official mission before he moved to a different position.
“I don’t want you to go,” you pouted at him, running your fingers through your hair as he returned to dotting more kisses up to your hips, down to just below your belly button, trying to memorize the way your skin felt on his lips.
“I know,” he sighed, struggling to justify why he was going to you when he could hardly convince himself these days. “It’s just six months.”
A routine mission.
It was far from his first. He knew how it would play out. Shoko and Suguru would join him on the crew, so at least the time wouldn’t totally drag by. He hadn’t planned to join, but with what they promised to pay for it, it was sorta hard to refuse. Especially when he was still saving for a wedding and a house down payment.
Still, considering the fact that he’d only just gotten back from one less than a year ago, he knew that it wasn’t just him it was hard on.
“It feels like forever,” you complained, a crease between your brow as your hand shifted to cup his cheek, lift his face up to look at you. The cool band of your engagement ring resting on his skin reminding him of the promise he made to you when he popped the question. That he’d give up exploring the reset of the universe if you’d be his wife. “I’m so tired of missing you.”
“Baby,” he frowned, heart slamming into his rib cage at the disappointment he detected in the lines of your face.
He didn’t want to do this to you. Didn’t want to be the guy that wasn’t there for you.
But this was all just temporary. Soon he’d have secured a future where you could both permanently settle in a beautiful little house with a big yard for mini-yous and mini-hims to run and play.
Climbing back on top of you properly as you huffed at him, caging you in underneath his muscled arms, not stopping until your bodies were connected, skin-on-skin, his forehead resting on yours as your eyes met his.
“Don’t baby me,” you defensively murmured.
“But you’re my baby,” he pouted back at you. Your body shivered a little, thighs pressing together before he used his knee to nudge them further apart. “And you’re gonna be my wife when I get back.”
He liked the ring of it.
His wife.
All his.
crazy in love | ryomen sukuna
chapter 1: temptations
pairing: serial killer!sukuna x reader
summary: sukuna has loved you since you were in high school, and when he finally gets his chance with you, four years after graduation, he's the perfect boyfriend.
he treats you like you're worth more than the entire world, devoted solely to you, committed to keeping you healthy and happy in his arms for all eternity.
if only he wasn't killing people behind your back.
word count: 8.3k
content: 18+ mdni, smut, dub-con in the later chapters, dark content, rough sex, yandere sukuna, obsession, stalking, murder, blood, gore, manipulation, deception, unhealthy dynamics, jealousy, cheating (reader cheats on her bf with sukuna), sukuna is awful in this but he's good to reader exclusively, fic takes place in the early 2000s, more tags to be added on a chapter by chapter basis!
a/n: I've been sitting on the plan for this for a while and I'm so excited to get into it! Hope you enjoy!
masterlist | ao3 | next chapter (coming soon!)
During your final year of high school, your boyfriend died at a party.
They never caught the guy who did it - he was long gone by the time Ryu’s body was discovered, mutilated in the garage of the poor party host.
He’d been practically ripped apart, torn to pieces by someone with deeply malicious intent. There was no explanation for the act, no note, no leads. Just the assumption, that either your boyfriend was caught up with something nasty that he’d never thought to divulge or, there was someone immensely sick living in your little town.
It haunted you for a long time afterwards.
i literally have had a huge hiatus from tumblr but this brought me back!! I LOOVEEEE the way they write sukuna and im so so excited for more :3
Pls check it out !!
Be punkrocker, be against ICE‼️
Chilling on the weekend drawing my wife
most beautiful art of her ever. credits to marmaladon!!! its their wonderful art <3
❀: “the inevitable”
pairing: neteyam sully x f!omatikaya!reader
summary: you and neteyam navigate distance and unspoken feelings as his responsibilities as future olo'eyktan grow. one quiet night in the forest, with a bit of teasing, and honest conversation, finally brings you together, proving your connection was always meant to be.
warnings: literally a dollop of angst lol, other wise super cute and fluffy. a tad bit spicy I suppose?
word count: 3.1k
tsamsiyu - warrior. paskalin - sweet berry. yawne - beloved. kxan'epe - sage mushroom & stagfly ant nectar dish.
The forest was quiet except for the soft rustle of leaves and the hum of distant creatures. You’re perched on a low-hanging branch, sharpening the tip of your knife. As you run the fine-grained rock along the blade's edge with carefully forged precision, your mind wanders astray. When you had befriended the young warrior you were well aware of his destined path as future olo'eyktan, yet the innocence of your blossoming friendship could not have foretold the future challenges the title would hold. You couldn't be upset, not really. Never have you met a boy so gentle and kind.
The arrows he shoots are clean and merciful, crafted with the promise of being wielded by a mighty tsamsiyu. He is dutiful, following his fathers orders with a precision and care that you admire greatly. The love he holds for his family is evident, shining through whenever he burdens the blame for Lo'ak's youthful antics, or when he promises to help Tuk with finding materials for her crafts, despite not really having the time. He is what you could call the clans golden boy and his family's pride and joy, yet he does not wear the attention like a badge.
Maybe it was only inevitable that you would fall for him.
Each time his calloused yet gentle fingers graze yours as he quietly lifts a woven basket of fresh herbs from your hands, insisting on carrying it himself, butterflies bloom in your stomach. A soft violet warmth colours your cheeks when his touch lingers at the small of your back, guiding you carefully through the crowd, or when his features soften and golden eyes find yours across the firelight during a shared meal. The elders called you kindred spirits; you insisted he was far too good for you, yet you could never deny that you were cut from the same cloth, two halves of a single whole. Still, the suggestion makes your heart flutter.
So his confusion at your recent hesitance was understandable: a carefully planned retreat here, a practiced indifference there. Even you could admit you had grown distant. Yet as his responsibilities mounted, his absence cut deeper than you expected. Caught between his fleeting touches and a silence you had not yet learned to endure, it became impossible to quiet the relentless thoughts gnawing at your mind.
The snap of a twig pulls you from your trance. You glance up as Neteyam approaches, his face lit with a mix of curiosity and concern.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he states simply, moving to settle beside you.
You give him a quick glance, eyes shying away with a soft huff before returning to your task at hand.
“I’m not avoiding you,” you whisper after a moment, the tension tightening the air between you. He raises a brow at that. You feel his eyes linger, cautious and searching, as though he is trying to unravel what has driven your behaviour these past few weeks. Neteyam turns his body towards you, shifting his weight, and studies you silently. You can practically feel the thoughts swirling through his brain as he processes your words.
After what feels like an eternity, he lets out a breath, the sound a mixture of frustration and resignation. "You think I wouldn't notice?" He asks, the tone of his voice gruff yet somehow tender.
You let his words settle into the silence, accompanied by the cooling breeze of the nearing eclipse. Because of course you knew he’d notice. He always did.
You notice his movements as he leans back against the tree, the muscles in his arms flexing lightly. He's quiet, watching you, reading your every move like an open book.
After a moment, he lets out a sigh, his golden eyes never leaving your face. "Why are you pulling away like this, huh? Talk to me, paskalin."
You sigh softly, mentally debating how to tell him that you really weren't avoiding him, that instead you were trying to reason with your feelings and his absence.
He notices your sigh, the way your shoulders slump slightly. It's clear something is on your mind but he remains quiet, letting you find the right words. His gaze never wavers from you however, his expression a mix of concern and anticipation. He's waiting for you to talk, to explain why the distance between you feels more like a chasm.
Slowly, you still the motion of your sharpening knife and set it carefully against the lush floor of the canopy. You will yourself to look at his worried expression, feeling a deep pang in your heart for causing his distress.
"Really 'Teyam, I haven't been avoiding you on purpose. I've just needed some time."
His expression softens at your words, the concern creasing his brow smoothing out slightly. He shifts a little closer, his eyes now studying your face intently. "Time? You've never needed time before," he points out gently, his voice low and soft. "Did I do something to upset you?"
He looks genuinely confused and hurt, the thought that he might have inadvertently done something to drive you away clearly troubling him. Your heart stirs.
"No, of course not Tey," you smile at him, tilting your head in adoration. He looks like a lost puppy without having you by his side. Cute, you think. "I guess it's just hard to explain. But you've been so busy with your Olo'eyktan training, when could you have possibly had the time to upset me?" you ponder with a light giggle, bringing your hand to delicately rest upon his bicep.
He visibly relaxes at the sound of your soft laugh, the corners of his mouth lifting into a faint smile. The simple touch of your hand against his arm is more than enough reassurance that you're not as upset as he feared.
"You have a point there," he concedes with a nod, the tension in his shoulders loosening. His fingers instinctively find yours, gently intertwining them before he continues.
"Then why the distance, yawne? Something's bothering you, I can tell."
You look at him with a small pout, unwilling to bare your affections to your long-time best friend. Still, you can’t ignore his quiet patience – or the warmth of his hand in yours, his thumb now brushing slow, reassuring circles over your knuckles.
"It's not that easy Tay," you frown.
He catches your frown and his brow furrows in response, his thumb still continuing its comforting motion over your knuckles. He squeezes your hand softly in reassurance as his gaze locks on yours.
"Try me. Maybe I can understand more than you think." His tone is gentle, almost pleading for you to share whatever burden you've been carrying. He can see the doubt in your eyes, the hesitation, and it's torture.
You giggle at his pushiness, finding it comically endearing. "Hmm, soon," you promise. "But I'm hungry, and I know you are too olo'eyktan-in-waiting," you tease the unofficial title, standing from your spot beneath the cloud pine tree while feebly pulling on his arm.
He rolls his eyes at your playful banter, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Oh, very witty," he remarks, his words dripping with sarcasm. He allows you to pull him to his feet, standing to his full height beside you with a bemused look on his face.
As you start walking back towards the village, he slings his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close against his side. "You think you're real cute, huh?" he teases, his voice holding a hint of affectionate annoyance. You blush at his remark, head bowing low; his arm perched casually on your shoulder sending a tingling sensation through your body.
⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ✿ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹
The sun has dipped below the horizon, casting the forest in a beautiful array of orange and purple as the evening slowly creeps closer. You and Kiri are currently engrossed in an animated conversation, deep into a topic that you don't quite remember how you arrived at.
As you talk, you catch sight of Neteyam in the distance, engaged in a game with his younger brother and a few of their friends. The warm light of the setting sun dances across his face, highlighting his sharp features and making him look regal and handsome.
"I thought it was really fascinating but- hey!" Kiri snaps her fingers breaking your trance "Are you listening to me?" She questions with a knowing smirk on her face.
"Yes, sorry! I'm just a bit... distracted" Your sentence trailing off as you peer over to him once more.
"Yeah, distracted for sure. That or you're ogling at my brother." She remarks, raising her eyebrow with feigned annoyance.
"Kiri!" You squeal, blushing shyly at the insinuation. Kiri laughs at your reaction, finding your embarrassed response quite amusing. She pokes your shoulder playfully, her tone slightly teasing.
"Oh come on, you make it so obvious." She grins, her eyes flickering over to her brother who's still immersed in his game with Lo'ak.
"I can see the way you look at him all the time. You've got it bad." She continues, her smirk widening as she enjoys your bashfulness.
“Is it really that bad?” you ask, nerves creeping into your voice as you suddenly become far too invested in the bowl of Kxan’epe resting in your hands. Kiri watches you for a moment, her smirk softening into a knowing smile. She leans in slightly, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret.
“Honestly? It’s kind of sweet,” she admits. “And between you and me… I think he looks at you the same way when he thinks no one’s watching.”
Your head snaps up, eyes wide with surprise – but before you can respond, Neteyam appears beside the fire, wiping sweat from his brow after the game. His golden gaze lands right on you, lingering just a second too long before he smirks and reaches for his food.
Dinner crackles with quiet tension – and unspoken feelings hanging thick in the air like smoke from the flames.
Kiri catches the exchange and gives you a sly wink before scooting away with a quiet laugh, leaving you very much on your own.
Neteyam settles down beside you, close enough that his thigh brushes yours. He grabs a piece of roasted teylu from the fire pit with practiced ease.
“You two look real cozy over here,” he says lowly, voice laced with playful suspicion as he eyes your flushed face. “What were you talking about so secretly?”
You swallow hard, suddenly hyper-aware of every point where your bodies touch.
“N-Nothing important,” you stammer slightly; bad move.
He turns his full attention to you now, one eyebrow arched in that infuriatingly attractive way. “Hmm. You only stutter like that when you’re lying… or nervous.” His voice drops an octave. “Which is it, yawne?”
A soft breeze rustles through the leaves above as everyone else laughs and sings around the fire; but in this moment, it feels like it’s just the two of you beneath a sky beginning to sparkle with stars.
And then… he leans in just slightly closer.
You force a shrug, lips tugging into a nervous smile as you mumble, “Just Kiri teasing me – she likes stirring trouble more than the stew.”
He freezes for half a heartbeat, just long enough for you to realize you’ve said it out loud.
Then that slow, dangerous smile spreads across his face; the kind that makes your stomach flip and your pulse jump. He turns fully toward you, one arm now draping over your shoulder like he owns it.
"Baby," he murmurs, voice velvet and warm as firelight, "you don't gotta whisper things like that to yourself."
Your breath catches.
His thumb strokes the edge of your jaw as his golden eyes lock onto yours. "Say it again."
You can't move. Can't speak. All you do is stare up at him, heart hammering under the weight of his gaze... and suddenly all the pretending feels stupid.
Kiri was right.
You've got it so bad.
And worse?
He knows.
Mustering the last of your courage, you hum softly, letting your gaze meet his through fluttering eyelashes. Okay, I'll bite, you think. "I said," you begin, your hand drifting up to rest lightly on the arm draped over your shoulder, "It's hard not to look when you look like that”
The smile on his face changes from something teasing into something almost... soft. Warm. Possessive. He shifts again and then... he's suddenly right against you, thigh brushing yours, his thumb still tracing gentle circles along your jawline.
"That right? You like me all sweaty and out of breath?" he purrs, a hint of self-satisfaction in his voice. "Like seeing me playing with the boys like that? Working up a sweat and showing off… does it make you feel all hot and bothered, baby?"
"Mhm" you nod, suddenly at a loss for words.
He lets out a low, satisfied hum, almost like a growl, deep in his chest. The sound alone makes your spine tingle.
“Then why’ve you been running?” he murmurs, lips close to your ear again. His breath is warm, sending shivers down your neck. “You think I haven’t noticed? Every time I get close… you flinch. You look away.”
His hand slides from your shoulder down to your waist, pulling you just a fraction closer, enough that you can feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of your clothes.
“You’re not the only one who feels it,” he whispers, voice rough now with something raw and real. “I lie awake at night thinking about how soft you are… how sweet you taste when I kiss ya in my dreams.”
Your breath hitches.
He whispers your name so tenderly this time it almost hurts "you don’t gotta hide from me."
A beat of silence.
Then.
“You want me?”
He doesn’t need an answer, he already knows. He waits anyway.
“Of course I want you- how could I not?” you admit softly. “It’s just been hard, with all the weight of your new responsibilities.”
"I never see you anymore" you frown.
His expression softens, the teasing falling away to a look of understanding. One corner of his mouth twitches up into a wry smile. "You think I like it any more?" he asks, fingers toying with the soft fabric at your waist. "Being the future olo'eyktan... It's been nonstop training. And don't even get me started on dad's expectations."
He lets out an exasperated sigh, frustration clear in his voice. "I'm lucky if I get a couple hours of sleep each night, and even then dad has me working again in the morning."
“And I appreciate that - truly. I can’t imagine how heavy that expectation must be,” you say, pausing before adding more quietly, “I only meant that I miss you.”
His whole body stills at your words.
Then, slowly, he turns to face you fully, his hand sliding from your waist to cradle your jaw, calloused thumb brushing over the curve of your cheekbone like he’s memorizing it.
“Miss me?” he murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “You think I don’t miss you, baby?” A low chuckle escapes him – warm but laced with pain. “I dream about you every night and wake up aching.”
He leans in until his forehead rests gently against yours, breath mingling in the small space between.
“You’re not just some girl I flirt with,” he whispers fiercely. “You’re my paskalin… my heart.” He pauses. "And I hate that duty keeps stealing me from you."
A beat.
Then, with a smirk tugging at his lips, “So maybe… we stop letting it.”
You close your eyes, heart fluttering at the weight of his words. “Yeah? You mean it?” you ask, voice laced with hope. His thumb drifts from your jaw to skim across your parted lips, his gaze locked onto the spot in a possessive way that makes your knees weak. He leans in closer still, closing what little distance was left.
"Oh Paskalin," he murmurs huskily, lips practically brushing yours now.
"I do."
The intensity in his eyes, the rough quality of his voice, it's overwhelming. The only thing keeping you from sinking into a puddle is his firm grip on your hip.
"You're mine," he says, low and possessive. "And I'm yours."
His words linger.
“Okay, can you two get a room? Ew.” Kiri’s voice cuts through the moment, making both of you jump apart, hands still brushing. Her tone of mock disgust doesn’t match the cunning smirk and mischievous twinkle in her eye as she flicks her gaze between you and Neteyam. Neteyam lets out a low curse, his grip on you tightening instinctively.
"Damn it, Kiri," he mutters, shooting a glare at his sister, his face dusted a light shade of purple. "Can't even get one moment without you interrupting."
He's clearly irked, but there's a hint of amusement in his voice too. He knows Kiri's been playing matchmaker for years.
Kiri simply laughs, her hands thrown up in mock surrender. "Hey, don't get mad at me for speaking the truth."
Neteyam shoots a final, half-hearted scowling stare at his sister before heaving a sigh of resignation. He's about to say something when Lo'ak saunters up, an amused grin plastered across his face.
"So... you guys finally pull your heads outta your asses?" he quips, glancing back and forth between you and Neteyam.
Kiri lets out a laugh, leaning against her brother with a knowing smirk. "About damn time, huh?"
Lo'ak chuckles heartily, his eyes dancing with amusement. "Damn straight. I was tired of Neteyam moaning every day about how he 'pined for his sweet berry,'" he mimics in a high-pitched voice.
Neteyam shoots him a scathing look, clearly mortified at the revelation that he actually was that obvious. "Oh, shut up Lo'ak. Like you'd know anything about relationships."
You giggle at the sight of the two brothers bickering, but beneath the amusement, a quiet thread of contempt stirs in your chest. You and Neteyam – this night, this near kiss – it really had always felt inevitable.
Neteyam turns back to you, his expression softening instantly. He takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together.
"Yeah," he says simply, voice low and sure. "We were just gonna go get a room."
Kiri raises an eyebrow. "Oh really?"
"Mmhm," Neteyam smirks, standing and pulling you up with him, smooth as ever. "Gotta make up for lost time... baby."
You flush hard at the word, heart skipping, and before anyone can say another joke or tease, he leads you away from the firelight, toward the quiet path that winds through the trees.
Behind you, Lo'ak mutters, "Fucking finally."
And Kiri whispers with a grin, "Took them long enough."
But you don’t look back.
Because for the first time in weeks… maybe months… there’s no distance between you at all.
Just warmth.
And promise.
And him.
It's been so long! with the release of the new avatar movie and the influx of fics, i felt compelled to write a little something. hopefully I'll be sticking around a bit longer this time!
hai pls read if u love teyam, my friend is so awesome and lovely at writing
you don't know why but you're dying to try 🎵
Jason knight au
𐔌 . ⋮ TEXTS WITH PLUG!JASON TODD ֹ ₊ ꒱ smau .ᐟ part two ᵎᵎˎˊ˗ cw: mentions of weed, cursing, pet names, bruce wayne
© 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐍𝐌𝐔𝐍 ﹒ est 2025
CRYYYYYING
“my sweet girl” “sweets” “doll” “baby”
just fucking stab me in the heart pls
he’s drunk and clingy [dc]
pairing: damian wayne (aged up) x reader
synopsis: after a few drinks at the gala, damian wayne is unusually clingy and needy, refusing to stop showering you with affection
a/n: i love this idea sm TUMBLR DIDN’T SAVE MY INITIAL DRAFT LUCKILY I WAS MOTIVATED otherwise i would’ve just deleted this app. please enjoy!!
damian wayne rarely attended his father’s galas. moreover, he rarely ever drank at them.
today, he had done both.
the moment damian had turned eighteen, a plethora of expectations had been thrust upon him in preparation of if he were to ever take upon the mantle of his father, bruce wayne.
thus, he was expected to ‘behave’ at tonight’s gala, forced to host alongside his father; especially ever since he had been ‘allowed’ to be in a relationship, (an affiliation bruce— ironic, isn’t it?— believes to occasionally be a distraction from one’s duties), there were certain roles he had to work extra hard to fulfil.
tonight, he was expected to socialise. his least favourite activity as his main duty.
but alas, damian always strived to prove his worth to his father, even if the means to do so often clashed with his own areas of interest, and so he was behaving.
he made sure his ironed tailored suit did not have a single crinkle. he begrudgingly engaged in fruitless conversations and nodded along to business endeavours he knew nothing about from adults he knew nothing about, with proposals going in one ear and straight out the other, regardless of how important they might’ve been. caring was bruce’s job. he was only to maintain appearance. he even trained his perpetually creased eyebrows into a faux display of amusement— slightly raised instead— for the entire night to disguise his signature scowl.
it had been exhausting: pretending to entertain the socialite life— pretending to respect entitled adults who were all hypocritically pretending to enjoy one another’s company. sure, damian himself was often entitled too, a quality he was working on improving, but at least he never pretended to regard others simply for ‘networking’. these people seemed to know nothing about the real streets of gotham.
damian had been trying to placate his point blank boredom by really attempting, at random times, to care, when truly, he just really despised each fragile counterfeit interaction; every pathetic comment neatly packaged in the ruse of ‘fraternisation’. instead, he continuously found himself returning to any one of his brothers sides to complain about his apathy. god, he needed to get out of here before he lost it, yet he knew that wasn’t possible.
but there was one thing keeping him sane.
you.
but bruce had not been lenient— you had a task too. if you were to be damian’s partner, you had to play your respective part, and in your own opinion.. you were smashing it.
charmingly wide toothy smile, managing the drinks being served, participating in conversations about topics you had spent the prior day studying so you could speak on them. you had been exceptional. on top of your mannerisms, you were glowing, your energy attracting all the right people and creating just the perfect ambiance of hospitality for the night.
damian is enamoured watching you in action. his eyes are sharp and glued to you when he gets a break from lousily intermingling, a drink seamlessly plucked from a butler with a tray. he brings the glass to his lips, the alcohol stinging the back of his throat, burning away the desire that blossoms at the sight of you. the elegance of your dress. the poise of your stature. the shine of your teeth when you grin at guests. the crinkle of your sparkling eyes. the curve of your shoulders. the dip of your waist.
the colour of your lipstick.
what does a guy have to do to get a kiss from you around here?
damian doesn’t even realise he’s downed the entire glass of alcohol until he plants it on the table. he doesn’t realise when he approaches other guests to converse that he’s picked up another glass, his eyes continually glancing over at the mesmerising sight of your radiating charm.
this continues throughout the night. he has possibly drank four champaign glasses, which is four over his limit since he never drinks, and he’s feeling increasingly loopy as the gala comes to an end.
damian tries to convince himself he’s fine.
as the people disperse over time, the last few enjoin into a large group discussion until everyone decides to shuffle out, the manor beginning to look spacious again. when it’s completely emptied out leaving just the batfamily for a post-gala debriefing, damian barely lets you contribute before he walks up to you, hooking his arm with yours— not caring to wish his brothers or father goodnight— dragging you back up to his room.
your eyebrows raise as he walks you upstairs, simpering in confusion.
“damian,” you breathe, following helplessly. “everything alright?” you tilt your head, eyebrows tilting upwards.
damian doesn’t respond. you notice he looks a little buzzed, and your eyebrows shoot up in amusement.
“no way. did you drink?” you question as he approaches his bedroom door, lazily drawing it open.
that’s when he finally turns to you.
damian’s usually sharp emerald eyes are lazy and barely open, his lips pressed into a flat line, bottom lip slightly jutted out. he lets out a deep breath, running a hand over his face and through his neatly made hair, ruffling it up.
“yes,” he rasps out, throat burning. “i drank.”
you snort. “wow,” you grin in amusement. “you never do. what happened?”
damian grumbles, and that’s when he takes a stumbling step forward, his head plummeting onto your shoulder. an enlightened smile crawls onto your lips and your hand moves up to his lower back, carefully holding him for support.
“everything was so excruciatingly boring,” he mumbles against your shoulder, voice muffled against your bare skin. his voice is slightly slurred, something you wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t known he was drunk. “had to distract myself.”
damian lets out a long breath against your skin, and then almost suddenly realises that it’s your bare skin, and so immediately puckers his lips, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. goosebumps erupt on your skin.
you’re not used to damian initiating affection or being clingy. he rarely lets his guard down, and in exploitation of his weakened defences due to the alcohol in his system, you experiment.
you soothingly rub up and down his back. “aw,” you coo, holding him closer. “you must be exhausted.”
you bite back a smile at your intentionally patronising voice.
you’re babying him.
sober damian would’ve been disgusted by that.
instead, damian who is never vulnerable, never sappy, never emotional, groans in agreement against your shoulder. he drags his nose up your shoulder to your neck, burying his face in your skin. his hands lazily reach out, one at your abdomen, one sliding around your lower back.
your heart skips a beat.
damian is clinging onto you. damian. the boy who can barely ever instigate intimacy without feeling pathetic. the one who hates feeling weak.
you’re still revelling in your shock, brain thinking of a million ways to cherish this adorable version of damian when you feel the ticklish sensation of his lips moving against your neck.
“you were so perfect tonight,” damian’s voice is low and hoarse from drinking, his words sounding as if they were roughly pushed out of his dry mouth.
and then he lifts his head from your neck, staring at you for a long moment with hazy emerald eyes. he’s almost pouting, just a little, his brown cheeks decorated pink. his hair is slightly disheveled from it being the end of the night, his heart rate slow and comfortable in the embrace of his lover.
“kept looking at you..” he breathes, lips parting, and then his eyes drop down, shamelessly looking over your figure. the way your dress hugs your every curve. your cleavage. you raise an amused eyebrow, your own cheeks turning hotter.
“gorgeous,” he muses, leaning in and rubbing his nose against yours. his eyes flutter shut. meanwhile, your heart is racing, butterflies in your stomach.
damian is never like this.
you can barely keep it together when his lips graze yours.
“everyone,” his voice is a hoarse whisper as he puckers his lips against the edge of your mouth. “was talking about,” he nudges a harder kiss to your cheekbone, “how i don’t deserve you.”
he sounds petulant. sulky.
your whole body is hot.
he sighs against your lips, and then lets out a throaty whine. long and rough. he sounds exhausted and desperate all at the same time.
you can’t contain your goofy grin any longer. the smile on your face is oozing sugar with how sweet and sincere it is.
“that’s not true,” you whisper back softly. damian’s eyelids blink against your skin, his eyelashes tickling your cheekbone as his lips press a wet open-mouthed kiss to the edge of your mouth. your shiny gloss coats his mouth. he doesn’t care.
“it is,” his voice is deep and rough. his hands slide over your abdomen and your back, large and slender, framing your whole body in his palms.
“i don’t deserve you,” he whispers, another leisurely kiss pressed to the side of your nose, kissing wherever his lips can reach and touch, desperate for any form of affection.
“hayati,” he breathes, mouth just brushing your cheek, grazing your skin. “my beloved,” he murmurs, soft chants of nicknames, completely enamoured by you in his arms. “zawjati,” his voice is low, lips tickling your fuzzy skin.
(zawjati means ‘my wife’)
an uncontrollable grin is plastered on your face, cheeks crimson.
and then it gets worse.
“i adore you,” his mouth ghosts over yours with his shy whisper, and that’s when he finally presses a firm kiss to your lips. it’s pathetic and barely a kiss, his lips bumping against yours, just needing to feel you.
you’re not believing this is real. damian who never professes his love, ever. damian who responds ‘hm,’ with flushed cheeks every time you tell him you love him, until you force him to confess how he ‘possesses similar affections for you’.
you are, to say the least, pleasantly surprised by his sudden and random displays of affection. you’re melting until you can’t contain yourself anymore, wanting to practically devour your boyfriend.
you beam a soft smile, cradling his warm cheek. “so tipsy,” you tease, and he huffs against your cheek.
“can i touch you?” he whispers, completely ignoring your comment, hand moving up from your abdomen to over your chest, unabashedly trailing his palm over the curves of your chest.
wow. this man is in his own world, not realising nor paying heed to how he’s torturing you.
your breath hitches.
“i want to have you tonight,” he stumbles slightly so his body weight presses right into you, putty against you.
you blush, bright wide smile glued to your face. you scoff-chuckle. “you’re soo drunk.”
“still need you,” he breathes back, cheek pressing hard into your warm supple skin, as if trying to fuse with you, needing the contact. the proximity. “mine,” he adds, squeezing your chest.
his hand then slides down to your tummy, rubbing up and down over the fabric of your dress, just possessively feeling the softness, as if he is discovering for the first time that you are all his.
your smile softens tenfold. “baby,” your voice is low. “maybe you should get some rest. you said you were tired.”
at that, damian pulls away. his lazy eyes meet yours, and he tugs you closer with his arms around you.
his eyes shift from one of your pupils to the other, completely dazed. his lips are slightly pouted, cheeks now fully flushed. his face is centimetres from yours.
“you..” he breathes, eyes digging into your soul, slightly glossy. “are the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
your heart aches at his slurred words. your hand moves up to cradle his jaw in cuteness aggression. “damian,” you squeak, heart racing in your chest. “i’m going to eat you.”
at that, his eyes flutter shut, eyebrows crinkling upwards in amusement. there is the faintest curve of his lips, the ghost of a smile. “like a blowjob?”
you blow a raspberry, squeezing his jaw. “aaand you’ve ruined it,” you joke, but then damian’s eyes open, and he frowns.
“i always do.”
your eyes widen. drunk damian is not only clingy, but overly sensitive too. “no, baby,” you pull his face closer. “i was just kidding. you never ruin anything.” you lean closer until your lips are brushing his.
damian puckers his lips, clearly asking for a kiss. it’s so petulant you smile, attending to his wish, cutting the distance and pressing your mouth to his. the kiss is sloppy and lousy, the taste of alcohol lingering at damian’s throat when your tongue dives into his mouth. his mouth is leisurely against yours, savouring the effort you’re putting in to make out with him. he desperately bites your lower lip when you pull away, trying to keep your lips glued to his.
you grin, cheeks pink, face still close to his.
“resting time,” you hold his face, thumb caressing his jaw. “you can have me tomorrow.”
damian’s eyes are big, pupils dilated. he looks like a puppy, shimmering brown skin, tired eyes. you want to shower him with unlimited affection with how adorable he looks, and he’s drunk, so this would probably be the only time he’d let you. he nods slowly, lips slightly sulky.
you sigh dreamily. “you’re so cute i wish you were like this all the time.”
“i do love you all the time,” damian responds, voice lazy and growing quieter as the level of his exhaustion increases. his eyes are gentler and heavier. his hands casually slide up your arms to the straps of your dress, languidly tugging them down.
at first your eyes sparkle with affection, and then your lips purse at his cheeky behaviour. this boy. “that’s very sweet,” you offer a smile while your own hands reach up to hold his steady at your shoulders, softly tugging the straps of your dress back up.
damian frowns petulantly. your heart aches.
“i will—” gosh, he looks so beaten. “i will take it off. i promise. just get into bed first, okay? you’re tired.” you try to reason with puppy eyed damian.
damian sighs. and then his head falls into your neck again. “can you help me change?” he exhales, breath warm. “my head is spinning.”
your demeanour softens. “of course,” you wrap your arms around him. “come on. my turn to take care of you.”
damian hums as you guide him to stand back in front of his bed. his arms come around your waist, caressing and holding on to you for balance. “i am too lucky,” he grumbles while pressing his lips to your neck in a myriad of pecks. you smile, unbuttoning his shirt for him.
“you’re just soo sappy drunk, aren’t you? don’t give me incentive to tell bruce to host more galas,” you tease, eyes focused on your task.
“that’s cruel,” damian mumbles against your skin, eyes fluttering shut. “he’d give me all his social work and then i’d never be free,” he murmurs, his voice becoming more and more slurred as he feels sleepier.
you chuckle, pulling his shirt off for him. “and if i let you touch me after every one?”
his response is instantaneous.
“deal.”
“yeah. go to bed, buddy.”
ARGHAHI the way u write damian.
he can’t lose you [dc]
pairing: damian wayne x reader
synopsis: a life-threatening ambush mid-mission after a bad fight makes damian realise that he cannot afford to lose you
a/n: srry for posting so late and going against the poll i’ve been so busy plus this has been rotting in my drafts for ages :( however THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BEYOND 1K FOLLOWERS that’s INSANE. i wish i could thank each and every one of you personally like i am genuinely so appreciative. all the reblogs, comments, likes, follows, dms are so fun and mean the world to me— you guys are the best. pleaaaase enjoy this dump !!
as soon as intel dropped about remnants of an old illegal group trafficking experimental waynetech weapon components through a derelict shipping yard— batman was informed.
however, batman was occupied with a more significant case in the city at that moment, and so entrusted the handling of this particular situation to his son and his patrol partner: you.
but still— the mission was meant to be primarily under damian wayne.
the entire time, damian dreads that his first solo mission, an opportunity to prove his stature, is a joint recon-op with you— not because he necessarily dislikes you, per se, but more because you are… uncontrollable.
instinctive. adaptive.
and often defy him.
that is why the pre-mission debrief at the batcave is tense and heated. the two of you don’t fight that often— it’s mostly just disagreements; but today, damian is on edge. he is less just robin, and more the determined perfectionist who firmly believes that strategically planned missions need to followed to the dot, and that emotion is weakness— training he has internalised from the league unknowingly. this damian, determined to show his father whej he truths that he is capable of fulfilling his duties, does not realise how absurdly important control is to him, and so he acts.. slightly insufferable.
“i want to make it very clear this time. batman left the mission to me.” damian’s eyebrows crease, glare sharp and directed at you, hands splayed on the console of the mission room in the batcave. gadgets and weapons are displayed on the table in front of him, a preparatory meeting in progress before the two of you actually set off on the mission.
you’re standing opposite him at the other end of the table, eyebrow raised.
damian’s control issues have always been a point of contention between the two of you, especially in leadership roles. he always expects military precision, which is why your adaptiveness is so annoying to him.
“if i must spell it out for you, that means i am the leader,” his eyes narrow. “should remind you since you have a reputation of disobeying direct orders,” damian continues, his voice sharp and unforgiving, scolding you as if you are some sort of child.
your eyebrows furrow in irritation. of course he’d bring up the last mission the two of you had collaborated on— how you’d gone against major instructions but still ended up saving the entire team; but of course, he’s still furious about it, not because you were wrong, but mostly because it worked— and that threatened his authority.
and maintaining control is very important to damian.
you roll your eyes. “just because you’re the leader, doesn’t mean i don’t have autonomy—”
damian cuts you off. “it does not override authority.”
your eyes narrow further. “the mission will never go exactly how you plan. you need to improvise. plus, last time, the team would be dead if it wasn’t for me.”
damian’s scowl is so bitter it looks like he’s fuming. “that’s not the point. you’re reckless.”
you scoff. “reckless? you can’t stand not having control, can you? what is the point, then?”
“that i can not afford diversions that jeopardise the mission!” damian’s voice raises slightly, frustration bubbling under his scorn.
you turn quiet. you glare at him for a long moment, breathing heavily, before looking away.
“fine,” your voice is low and restrained. “but prioritising the mission over your teammates will never make you a good leader. it doesn’t guarantee success either.”
you don’t wait for a response. you snatch your gadgets from the table, adjusting them into your utility belt, and walk out the batcave straight to your protocol station.
damian is left simmering, left to confront the complexity of his feelings towards your judgement of him as he grabs his own things. perhaps underneath it all is a deep rooted fear— and yet damian is wholly incapable of understanding, acknowledging, or articulating any of those thoughts.
it’s easier to discard them, especially before a high-stake mission.
at the mission site, gotham’s east end, the industrial district is half-abandoned, crawling with smuggling operations.
damian is at a running point from ground level— responsible for silent infiltration through the lower catwalks of a half-lit cargo hangar, whereas you’re positioned higher up, using optics to keep an eye out (of course, on the sidelines, as per damian’s instructions).
the atmosphere is rough and tense. there’s rusted cranes surrounding the district, the smell of oil infiltrating your senses. the whole place hums with the low electric huzz of something unstable. you search for enemy patrols or traps, but there seems to be none you can detect.
“visual on crate 13?” damian’s voice buzzes through the muffled comms, and despite the tension still being palpable from the fight, and a strong urge to ignore him, you respond.
“yeah. movement on your three,” you try to bite back attitude, but you can’t. “you’re welcome.”
damian’s voice is a rough growl from over the static. “i have it handled.”
while damian works on ground, your eyes zero in on one of the generators in the district that seems oddly suspicious, trying to analyse if it’s active or not. “hey, is there power? ‘cause i think there might be some core—” you groan, the position damian’s assigned to you miscalculated, making it difficult for you to observe clearly whatever is happening on over.
your mouth opens to complain.
you don’t get the chance to.
there’s a gunfire ricochet. then there’s the sound of one of the experimental power cores whirring to life, overloading, and then there’s a loud blast right in front of your station.
heat, light, and steel erupt in the same instant.
static.
the floor collapses. the last thing you remember is being thrown off the catwalk. smoke and fire obscure everything— your comms go dead.
damian, on ground with quick reaction time to the loud sound and a shielding suit, finds machinery to hide behind, but it’s still not enough distance to prevent the ringing in his ears and the panic that follows.
real, raw, visceral, animalistic panic fills him.
damian rarely every loses control, but when he does, nothing about it is a stable. the mask either never slips or slips completely, stripping him bare.
he splutters your codename on the comms as if it is the only word he knows. “respond,” he beckons, eyes wide and horrified, quickly scanning the high grounds, searching desperately for any sign of you.
the stupid static.
he doesn’t hear you. he can’t see you. only rubble where you were meant to be.
to damian wayne who craves control in every aspect of his life, helplessness is foreign; and often induces violent, aggressive outbursts.
but there was no room for aggression or anger right now.
there was only pure fear.
your name painfully croaks out from between his dry lips. his voice drops as his eyes trace over the damage, too low to register emotion.
he’s terrified.
and damian is never scared.
he doesn’t waste a second before he begins manually searching— he’s desperately limping, scanning, ripping open debris. the bat-drone tries to feed him visuals, but the comm blackout scrambles the feed. he cannot find you.
“stop being stubborn. i’m not leaving you here—” he mutters, more to himself than anyone else, praying you’re somewhere. praying you can hear him.
and he never feels the need to pray. he doesn’t need to ask anyone for anything— he always makes sure to get it. but now?
damian is frantic. he refuses to lose hope— it’s simply not possible. his brain replays the nastiest things that could have happened to you again and again and he continually disregards the thought by throwing it out of his head, part of him refusing to believe that losing you could even be a possibility.
when he hears the faint sound of movement through the smoke, his whole body jolts.
he can barely breathe. he’s numb all over, his hands bruised and hurt as he digs through shrapnel and concrete, eyes darting from one spot to the other, desperate to find you. begging— begging to whoever is the higher power, begging for you to be alive and not hurt. you have to be alive. there’s no choice.
when damian’s wide, frantic eyes finally find yours in between the dust and powdered cement, his heart stops beating.
he doesn’t know when or what happens. filled with adrenaline, his legs begin rushing on their own, stumbling over broken rock and flooring to reach you. his arms possessively enclose around you, eyes glossy with fear and relief. his hands are clenched into fists, arms pathetically gripping onto you as if you’d dissolve into particles from right in between his arms if he loosens his grip around you for even a second.
“you’re alive,” his voice catches in his throat like he truly cannot believe it, and then he leans back so his eyes can quickly trail all over you. “are you hurt anywhere? injured? bruises? wounds—” damian bends slightly, his hands trembling as he checks for injuries, every motion too fast and too rough. you wince, catching his wrist, grounding him.
“i’m fine,” you rasp out, leaning against his shoulder for support. he instantly melts, cupping your face with his palm, holding you up with his arm, pulling you tighter for another long embrace.
he shakes his head, chin resting on your shoulder, your face burying in his neck in return. “this is all my fault,” he breathes out, usually composed voice shattering into shaky pieces.
“i thought—” his throat feels dry. he can barely speak. you know exactly what he thought, and that makes you shiver. damian’s grateful you can’t see him because his eyes turn glossier just at the thought of losing you. and especially after a fight? damian’s heart is thumping so hard in his chest anyone in a five foot radius could probably hear it.
he can’t imagine ever losing you. especially when he hasn’t even spilled out his darkest truths yet. all that detachment, all that aloofness— none of it exists in front of the possibility of your absence from his life.
damian pulls away from the hug as if a sudden epiphany has hit him. fear and suppressed emotions flood through his body at the sight of your terrified eyes, face crinkled in a mix of emotions, but mostly relief. he sniffles away his own feelings, eyebrows furrowed as he stares at you. he seems dead focused and serious when he tilts his head, momentarily pausing, before pushing his mouth to yours.
your heart stops. damian doesn’t.
his lips capture your mouth in a firm, searing kiss. he’s pressing close and compact, almost to confirm that this is happening, like he is testing reality. his arms are around you, hands unclenching to slide down to your lower back.
damian kisses you like it’s the only way to prove you’re actually alive: his lips are pressed against yours hard and recklessly— it was too much, too sudden, the kind of contact that comes after fear has nowhere else to go.
when damian realises what he’s even doing, he breaks away with wide eyes. the kiss ends with a loud squelch that makes his cheeks flush even hotter, his lips parted as he breathes deeply in shock.
damian does not deal with spontaneous emotion well, and it shows.
he fumbles with his words, trying to distract himself from the sudden shyness that fills him.
“i couldn’t imagine losing you like that,” he finally regains his ability to speak, still sounding breathless. “without telling you how much i actually care. god, i’m such a fool—” his throat hurts.
his pupils are dilated, dark, paranoid emerald eyes focused on yours, eyebrows crinkled, chest heaving up and down heavily. he continues rambling before he knows it.
“i caused this,” his voice cracks, heart thumping against his chest. “it is all my fault, and you should be furious. this was very immature of me—”
you don’t let him finish his monologue. you shut him up with a rougher kiss, dusty hands on his cheeks, eyes closed. your mouth presses against his as if there is no tomorrow, an idiom very close to reality a minute ago. damian exhales into the kiss, his own eyes fluttering shut as he tugs you closer, lips moving against yours in an intense, warm rhythm.
when the two of you part, damian’s eyes don’t open. he lets his cheek rest against yours, breathing against your mouth through open lips, holding you impossibly close. he cannot believe this is happening.
“that was—” his brown skin is red hot.
“a long time coming?” you offer, voice weak and hoarse, a small chuckle against his skin.
if possible, damian flushes even pinker. “unprofessional.”
when damian’s eyes open, you offer him a small, intimate smile. he blinks rapidly, entranced.
“don’t look at me like that,” he exhales, low and ragged. he doesn’t let you respond, too overwhelmed to be able to handle any friendly banter.
“i apologise,” his voice is low. “for this entire mess. if i hadn’t been so..” damian’s voice fades out, eyes widening when your head falls to his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut.
his eyebrows furrow in worry, hand cradling the back of your head for support. he takes the hint.
“okay, apologies later,” his arm tightens around you. “let’s get you back to the batcave.”
you hum, ill against his shoulder, letting out a long exhausted sigh.
“then can we kiss some more? i’m dizzy right now.”
damian’s lips purse into a flat line, body overheating with nervousness and strangely, joy. “you—” he gulps, heart concerningly active. “you are in time out. do not speak until i get you back.”
you smile against his shoulder as he lifts you into his arms. he brings you back to the batcave where alfred assists in patching the two of you up.
despite returning to the safety of the manor, the tension between the two of you has changed— glances towards each other as the two of you get bandaged are no longer volatile, but heavy with things neither of you will name yet.
but one thing is certain— damian can never afford to lose you.
he doesn’t care to think or understand why yet. he just refuses to ever let you go, caring more about your input in missions, even ensuring your safety during them— and maybe this realisation of attachment will help damian eventually come to terms with his feelings for you.
eventually. there’s a lot of kissing that happens before that level of maturity, though.
Soo soo shdisndksjdks amazing
my first superbat... kinda nervous
they make me ill.
“my boyfriend wants to show you his books, and you better say they’re cool,” you demanded while glaring at the camera. an amused jason could be seen in the back as you made way for him to take center stage. “go, babe.”
“hi,” your boyfriend awkwardly greeted before showing off the two paperback books in his hands. “so this one is ‘frankenstein’ by mary shelley. i know we all dreaded reading it in high school, but i really relate to frankenstein’s monster, and the story’s pretty good if you just give it a chance. plus, it’s a pioneer for the science-fiction genre, so that’s cool.”
you could be seen behind jason making threatening gestures with your hands, almost as if to say, ‘leave a nice comment, or you’re getting blocked!’
“and this one is ‘pride and prejudice’ by jane austen. another oldie but a classic,” jason said with a nonchalant shrug. “the writing’s beautiful, and i love elizabeth’s character because she reminds me of a certain someone. probably one of my favourite books of all time and just a really good comfort read.”
he turned to see your face quickly morph into heart-eyes and a sweet smile.
“good job, honey. that was a great presentation,” you praised before giving his cheek a loving kiss.
“oh, and i’m also part of a book club. we meet at the community center in the bowery every thursday evening. new members are always welcome,” jason off-handedly added.
“and new members are always welcome,” you sharply reiterated, glancing at the camera with a scary scowl and furrowed brows. “see you thursdays.”
gothambaddiexoxo commented: this man was written by a woman lol singleasapringle commented: girl, where can i get myself a boyfriend like this 😭 birdzofprey0 commented: sooo does everyone in this book club look like him or?? asking for a friend
inspired by this video here. REBLOGS and COMMENTS are greatly appreciated
This is Me Trying
pairing: Jason Todd x Reader
synopsis: your friend takes you out to a street race to meet her boyfriend and his brothers
a/n: street racing Jason Todd won't leave my brain. I'm going to do my best to keep reader as ambiguous as possible. Updates will probably be slow between work but I will also be posting this to my AO3 which i will link here. I hope you enjoy ♡
next: part 2
“I just don't see the entertainment in it, is all.” You try to explain to your friend. She had finally, finally, dragged you to one of her boyfriend's street races. You could see the appeal to them. Hot people racing dangerously and illegally in cars or on motorcycles, what's not to like? Aside from the fact that you only get to see them take off and then they're gone. A whole ten seconds of oggling.
“It's not just the race,” your friend smiles as she drags you along the sidewalk. It's dark out, almost midnight already, groups of people walking alongside you to the meet up.
“Its also the after party. You will have fun. I promise. Maybe you'll meet someone.” She shrugs, you roll your eyes. And yet you follow along like a puppy dog to humor her all the same.
PLS GIVE THIS A READDD!!!!! so deserved, so well written and so funny and bittersweet and everything i need in a fanfic ugh.
HIIII, i want to reqs about jason x vigilante fem!reader where shes the leader of the outlaws and shes getting jealous and insecure because jason and artemis are getting suspiciously close but reader just suck it up cus shes a mature person. eventually reader accidentally slip up and tell jason that she's jealous and insecure which is crazy because she's literally the most beautiful charming like poetry it self stunning woman everyone ever seen.
sorry if its too long!! i think you already know me, or not...but if necessary reader code name is panther. thankyousoomuch ILYSM<334
i'm not sure if this is exactly what you were thinking of when you sent this in but the story took me on a journey lmao it was almost fun being jealous and toxic again
pairing: jason todd x f!reader wc: 1.6k
Jealousy, Jealousy
It was fine, everything was perfectly fine, at least that’s what you had told yourself. It’s totally fine that Jason and the newbie are getting along. It’s great even! A team should get along, boosts morale or whatever shit Roy spouted before leaving the team. And it’s awesome that it took Jason .02 seconds to warm up to Artemis when it took him four months and seven life saving exchanges for him to even call you by your first name.
So why did it feel like bile was clawing at your throat to escape in a scream that could rival both Hawkgirl and Black Canary anytime you saw them together?
also a poem from the new, unreleased collection. very possibly my own all-time favourite.