em

you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love

[ems-typewriter]

em's blog ʚଓ

she/her twenty sagittarius written by olivia rodrigo

masterlist

thank you to each and every person who reads or interact with my posts in anyway ♡

dividers: @somebitchprobably-graphicdump & @strangergraphics

please do not modify or copy my work, and do not feed my work into ai

[ems-typewriter]

emmm, i love the pink and green colour scheme you have going on!! i'm totally not biased 👀 also ur fics are awesome sauce!! so glad to be mutuals <333

SUMMER!! thank you and i LOVE your theme too!! ironically i have the same header you’re using saved in my pinterest for options lolsls!!

thank you so much that means a lot and i’m also glad we’re mutuals <33 waiting patiently for the next smau 😛😛

[ems-typewriter]

happy pride my lovessss!!! <3

[ems-typewriter]

Hi! Do you think we could be moots? I really love your work and congrats on hitting 100 followers! I absolutely love your writing and your vibes. ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎♡

yes of course i would love to!! and thank you so much for saying that it means a lot!! <3

[ems-typewriter]

CONGRATS ON 100 FOLLOWERS AND 1K LIKES OMGMGMGMGMGMG

AHHH THANK YOUUU!! <3 still so insanely surreal but also so motivating

[ems-typewriter]

guyyssssss!!! actually insane but my ruination fic hit 1,000 likes and I hit 100 followers in the same day!! THANK YOU to everyone who's read or interacted with my posts because i genuinely didnt think id get this type of attention

my inbox is open for anyone who wants to chat/mutuals (maybe ill do requests in the future but im just super busy right now)

MWAHH thank you all again!! <3

[ems-typewriter]

Waking Them Up Because You’re Hungry

includes: dick grayson, jason todd, tim drake

summary: you wake up your boyfriend in the middle of the night because you're hungry

word count: dick - 804, jason - 597, tim - 581

warnings/tags: sfw, fem!reader, established relationship, fluff, use of pet names, no y/n

dick grayson

You turn around for the 30th time in the past hour trying to get comfortable in bed, but it again isn't working. You’re facing your boyfriend who's fast asleep next to you and study the pattern of his breathing in hopes that it will lull you to sleep, but your inability to get comfortable isn’t due to the mattress or the pillow or even the temperature of the room–It's the fact you're starving. 

You had a quick lunch today, but got held up late at work and weren't able to eat dinner. By the time you got home, all you wanted to do was take a hot shower and then go to sleep with Dick’s warm body pressing against your back, but when you laid down, you felt that hunger strike again. 

Thinking you could just brush it off was apparently the wrong choice, because now you're stuck with Dick’s arms pressing you against his chest, while you debate how you’re gonna slip out without waking the vigilante. Ever so slowly you pull away from his chest while lifting his arm to slip out unnoticed. You’re far enough away from him that you let yourself exhale the breath you were holding in as you set his arm back on the mattress, and just as you thought you successfully went unnoticed, you feel his arm wrap back around you and pull you against him again.

“Where’re you going?” His voice was thick with exhaustion, filling you with immediate guilt for waking him up.

“Sorry for waking you. Go back to sleep, Dickie.” 

“Mmm, don’t leave.” He presses a lazy kiss to the exposed skin of your collarbone.

“I’ll be right back, I'm just hungry.” As if on cue, your stomach grumbles loud enough for him to hear and he pulls back slightly to look at you with a heavy lidded gaze. 

“When’s the last time you ate?”

You look down to mess with a loose thread attached to the comforter. “Lunch,” you admit quietly, “But I was super busy at work and didn't have time to eat, then when I got home I just wanted to sleep, but now that it’s night time I’m more hungry than I thought and can’t fall asleep.” 

You watch as he slowly pushes himself to sit up on the bed and stretch his back. “What do you want?”

“What?”

“To eat.” 

“No, Dick, it's fine I can make myself something. 

“I know you can make yourself food, pretty girl, but I want to do it for you instead. So, tell me what you want to eat.”

The moonlight shining through the window in your bedroom gives the chance to see the earnest way he's looking at you, and just when you thought you couldn’t fall more in love with Dick Grayson, you feel yourself tumbling all over again. 

“Uh–I guess waffles sound good?” 

“Do you want bacon with it?” 

You’re about to shake your head no, not wanting to cause more of a hassle for him, but bacon does sound really good. “If that's okay.” 

He smiles brightly at you as he climbs over you to get out of bed. “Yeah, that's okay, pretty girl.” Haley wakes from her own sleep at the end of the bed from the commotion, looking between you and Dick before deciding it unworthy of her attention then laying her head back against your feet. 

You move your feet to slip out from under the covers to follow Dick to the kitchen, when he presses a gentle kiss to your temple while pushing you back into the bed. “Stay here. Don't want you to lift a finger.”

He’s gone before you can protest, turning on the hallway light with him. You lie back down and face the wall listening to the sounds of mixing, sizzling, and the occasional mumbled curse from the kitchen. After about 15 minutes the smell of bacon wafts into the bedroom enough for Haley to recognize it and hop off the bed in search of any pieces that Dick will give her. 

Another ten minutes pass when you finally hear the familiar creak of the bedroom door swinging open again. With both hands Dick is holding a wooden tray that’s holding a plate with two waffles, a side plate of bacon, a bowl of fruit, and even a glass of orange juice. 

“Oh my gosh, I’m hungry but not that hungry,” you laugh as he places the tray onto your lap.

“I know, that’s why I brought two forks.” He smiles as he takes one of the strips of bacon off the plate and arranges himself under the sheets to sit up next to you.

“Thank you for this.” You rest your head on his broad shoulder as you reach for your own piece.

“Next time I’ll make you a full thanksgiving feast.” 

jason todd

Jason's arm is wrapped around your middle with your back pressed against his chest. He fell asleep an hour ago, but you just weren’t tired, so you reached for your phone and started to scroll on tiktok quietly. You were getting the usual videos on your feed–book recommendations, edits, and reality TV clips–but paused when you came across a video of a woman waking her husband up at three in the morning and asking him to make food for her. 

It was an innocent enough prank, so you turn your phone off and set it aside, then turn to face Jason. You admire the rare softness of his face while he's sleeping, before gently running your hand up and down his arm to wake him. Almost immediately, his training kicks in and his eyes snap awake to run over your face looking for any sign of panic or pain. 

“What?” 

“I’m hungry, Jay.”

His shoulders relax slightly and he pulls you closer against him. “We have ramen in the pantry.”

“But an omelette sounds really good right now and you know I’m terrible at making them.”

“Seriously?” His voice is gruff against your skin.

You just nod, hiding your smile against his chest. You feel the sharp rise and fall of his chest as he lets out a deep breath, before tossing the comforter off himself, making sure it stays around you, and mumbles, "I'll be back.”

Just as he’s about to step onto the floor, you start giggling and grab his arm to stop him. “It was just a joke Jay. I saw a tiktok of a girl doing it to her husband and wanted to see if you’d do it for me.”

He gives you a glare that holds no heat behind it. “You woke me up because of a… tiktok?”

“I’m sorry,” you say while still laughing quietly.

He steps out of bed and lifts his arms above his head in a stretch. “Well now I’m hungry so I’m still gonna go make that omelet.” He moves quickly as he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, ignoring your yelp of surprise thats quickly followed by protests, and walks out of the bedroom and toward the kitchen.

“Hey! Put me down, Jay!”

“Nope. You started this, so now you’re finishing it with me.”

“But it's cold and the bed was so warm!”

He gently places you on the counter next to the stove, slips off the slightly battered hoodie he was wearing, and helps you into it. “There, all warm now.” 

Leaving him in just sweatpants that rest low on his waist, your gaze lingers on his torso, then flicks around to the familiar marred skin on his body. As much as he hates them, you’ve memorized every scar that rests on his body like a map of constellations because to you they show his resilience and how strong he is for surviving everything he’s been through. 

He starts getting the pan ready then mixing the eggs together with the other ingredients. The quiet sound of the eggs sizzling surrounds you both as he starts to cook the two omelets, his attention half on the food and half on you. He reaches for your hand and carefully intertwines his calloused fingers with yours, only removing them when he has to flip the omelette, just to quickly return back. 

Once finally done, he plates them, handing one to you and then taking the spot next to you on the counter and taking a bite of his own omelette. “Thank you, Jaybird.”

“Mhm. Your welcome, baby,” he whispers as he presses a gentle kiss to your temple. 

tim drake

Taking a deep breath, you slowly blink your eyes open, starting to wake up. As you squint, trying to adjust to the darkness of the room, you catch sight of the clock on the bedside table reading 3:36am. Geez. You faintly remember dreaming about sitting at a table with a mouthwatering burger in front of you, but before you were able to take the bite, you woke up. 

You’re annoyed you woke up because now you’re craving a burger at three in the morning. You sigh quietly and turn around expecting to see Tim fast asleep with his lips slightly parted, but instead, a dull light illuminates his face as he stares down at the laptop, his eyes flying across the screen. The bluelight glasses you bought him for his birthday are pushed to the top of his head. 

“Y’know the whole point of those glasses is to wear them while staring at a screen, right?” You hear your own exhaustion lingering in your tone.

He turns and looks down at you with a sheepish smile then carefully moves them off his forehead and back onto the bridge of his nose. “What are you doing up, love?” 

You sigh dramatically and wrap an arm around his stomach then curl against his side to steal his body heat. “I dreamt of a burger and now I want a burger.”

A soft laugh spilled out of him, surrounding the space between you both. “Oh yeah?” 

You nod, “Why are you awake? Thought you were gonna actually sleep tonight?”

He looks back at the laptop. “I was just finishing up this case. I’m super close to figuring everything out.”

You stare up at him and the bags that consistently linger under his eyes. Gently, you push the laptop off his lap and onto the side of the bed before taking the spot on top of him, using his chest as your new pillow. “Maybe you should take a break and go to bed, Tim.” 

“I’m not even tired.”

You lift your head to look at him, “When did you drink your last redbull?”

“Like… an hour ago.” 

Sighing softly, you rethink your strategy, because he's not gonna fall asleep soon when he drank caffeine not too long ago. “Okay. Then how about we go grab burgers instead?” 

“I really gotta do this cas–”

“Please, Tim. One break won’t kill you and I wasn't kidding when I said I was craving a burger, so if anything you’d be doing this for me.”

He stares down at you for a couple of seconds, likely weighing the pros and cons in his head, before sighing and gently rolling you off him. “Alright, come on.”

You smile brightly at him as you toss on one of his sweatshirts and follow him out of your shared apartment and to his car. The car drive isn’t long with the nearest Bat Burger only being a couple minutes away. Neither of you talk on the drive there, letting the quiet music play through the speakers, while he keeps his hand intertwined with yours next to the gearshift.  

Once getting to the restaurant, he orders your usual meal without even needing to ask you and then gets himself some food as well. “Thank you, Tim,” you whisper as you lean over the console to place your head against his arm.

He smiles and presses a kiss to your nose, cheek, then temple. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure this was your plan all along.” 

A/N: first time writing tim which is exciting but also nerve wracking because im worried about mischaracterizing him some. please let me know if you have any notes on him so i can improve because i wanna write him more if possible!!

[ems-typewriter]

Friction

pairing: jason todd x reader

summary: jason and reader go for a ride on his motorcycle, but end up getting into a crash

word count: 2.2k

warnings/tags: sfw, fem!reader, cursing, car crash, angst, comfort, fluff, mentions of injuries, no y/n, use of pet names

The low light of the lamp lit the room enough for you to make out the words inked onto the page of your book. The TV playing in the background was loud enough to fill the quiet of the apartment while you waited for Jason to come home from patrol. He was supposed to be home 2 hours ago, but the door has remained locked since he left this morning. 

You’ve been on the same page of your book for the past ten minutes–none of the words truly sinking in because you’ve been stuck worrying about your boyfriend's safety. Usually he’s able to let you know if he’ll be late, but tonight, there wasn’t even a text. You give up, tossing aside the book and instead choose to sit on the fire escape to watch over the city with hopes of seeing a glimpse of his familiar red. 

The wind nips at your cheeks and you pull the hood of Jason’s old hoodie over your hair to protect from the cold. His scent envelopes you as you gaze at the broken city below your feet. You whip your head around at the sound of a lock turning from inside the house, and crawl back through the open window, and toward the front door. 

Jason steps inside the quiet apartment and catches your eye immediately. His shoulders are hunched, his brow set in a furrow, and overall looks utterly defeated. You don’t care to wait for him to toe off his boots before walking into his arms to mold your body against his.  

“You were gone.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispers as he pressed a gentle kiss to your hairline, “it was a shitty night and things kept coming up.” His voice holds a hint of frustration behind it. 

You look up, resting your chin on his chest. “Bad night?”

“Very.”

You stay quiet as you try to read his expression. He’s always been bad at asking for help from anybody, so you’ve learned to adapt to his needs and figure out what he wants instead. However, it's difficult to do so when his face stays set in the grim expression like he’s holding all his emotions behind that brick wall he's forced around himself. 

“I’m gonna go for a ride.” 

You let your hand run down the length of his arm until your fingers brush his before stepping back from him and nodding. You’ve learned that when nights are really bad, he’ll go for a ride on his motorcycle by himself to clear his thoughts. He never asks you to go and you never push to go either. 

You watch as he walks to the bedroom to grab his helmet and keys before walking back out to where you now stand in the kitchen to make a cup of tea. You feel his gaze burn on your back as you turn on the stove for the kettle to warm before turning to face him again. 

“Come with me?” His voice is so quiet, that you barely hear him.  

“You want me to go with you?”

He nods once, and that's all the confirmation you need to turn off the stove and walk into the bedroom to change into the riding gear Jason bought you–he’s made it very clear from the beginning that you won’t get on the bike without it. He’s never told you how much he spent on all of it, but when you looked up the brand Alpinestars one night, you found it was the most reliable, but expensive gear on the market. 

You walk back out and let him lead you out the door and toward the usual spot where his bike is parked. He helps you into your helmet, like he always does, and then throws on his own with much less care than he did for you. As you throw you leg over the bike and wrap you arms around his chest, you decide to remain quiet for the ride to give him the chance to sort out his own thoughts. 

It doesn’t take long to get onto the highway where Jason speeds up to merge on and you keep your arms tightly around his torso as the wind hits your helmet harshly. A quick glance at the speedometer tells you he’s being vigilant about the number and choosing not to speed, likely because of you being on the back of the bike. 

It’s quiet this late at night. You don’t pass many other cars as you drive down the street, most establishments that you can make out don’t have any lights on to invite customers, and you’re left with your thoughts. You think about Jason mostly–about how some nights you selfishly wish he didn’t have a double life to fulfill that leads, more often than not, to danger.

About twenty minutes have passed before he's slowing down to take an exit then turning around to get back on the highway, but this time to go back home. There's a few more cars on the road going this direction, which you only notice because Jason has to weave around them more often than he did previously. 

You were looking up at the sky, when you heard Jason for the first time through the comms set up on the helmets as the bike sharply move to the left. 

“Shit!”

You barely process the car on your right moving into the lane Jason is riding in, before it's too late. Jason tried to avoid the car, but the sharp movement sent the bike out of his control and into the concrete barrier on the side of the road. The bike flips from under both of you, bucking you off and throwing you across the shoulder of the road. You faintly feel your back slam into something painful, but the world quickly falls out of focus and then into nothing.

Jason tried to correct the movement in time, he really did, but the car forced him to turn so sharply that he just couldn’t get the bike to pull away from the barrier. He felt every tumble against the asphalt as he was thrown off. 

He’s disoriented, but that's nothing new for him, so he locks the pain into a different part of his mind, and pushes himself to a kneeling position. The now mutilated bike rests on the side of the road with scraps of the motorcycle trailing from where the first collision had happened. As he looks further, his eyes lock onto you, laying on the asphalt, unmoving. His mind narrows to this moment and for the first time since his death, he feels genuine fear.

He pushes himself up the rest of the way, ignoring the protest of his legs, and runs to you as fast as he can while yanking his helmet off so he can see better. Every step he takes feels like he's trudging through mud and can’t get to you fast enough. He’s begging and praying to every God he doesn’t believe in for you to be breathing. He’d give his life again if it meant you could live right now. 

Please. Not her. Not my world. 

Finally, he's standing before you and dropping unceremoniously onto his knees and pulling your helmet off as quickly as he can while still being gentle. Your eyes are shut, your lips barely parted, and skin indented from the helmet staying securely on you. His fingers make quick work of finding the pulse at your neck, and he could cry at the solid and steady life he feels beating against his fingers. There’s a couple scrapes on your hands, but the gear did good work of keeping you from getting any roadburn like he did. 

You likely blacked out from hitting the concrete barrier harshly and having the breath knocked out of you or maybe a concussion depending on how harshly your head collided with the wall. That doesn’t matter to Jason right now though. All he cares about is the fact you're alive. 

His forehead drops against yours, and he whispers broken apologies that you can’t hear against your skin. He pulls back to adjust you carefully so your head rests on his lap, then he reaches for his helmet he set aside to rip out the comm inside. He changes the channel from the one he uses when biking with you to the private channel the Bats use. 

“Babs?” His voice breaks only slightly as he speaks.

“Red Hood? I thought you were off patrol, what's going on?”

He stares down at your unconscious body, “We got into a wreck on my bike. She's unconscious. She needs medical. Please.” 

“Shit, okay I’m on it.”

The faint sound of steady beeping pulls you from your sleep. Your limbs feel too heavy for your body, your head is fuzzy, and as you slowly push your eyes to blink open, everything is five levels too bright. All you see is a plain ceiling and panic rushes through you at the unfamiliar space, and you move to sit up, but a warm hand lands on your shoulder to keep you down. 

You quickly look to the side, ready to fight the stranger, but instead you catch sight of the familiar white tuft of hair and emerald eyes. Jason. Your body relaxes against what you now realize is plush bedding beneath you as Jason watches your every move.

“You’re safe.”

“Wh– What happened?” your voice is raw from not using it for a while.

His eyes harden slightly as he blows out a harsh breath through his nose, “I swerved to avoid a car about to hit us, but I lost control of the bike and we crashed.” His voice is gentle as he asks, “Do you remember that?”

Pieces fall into place in your memory as everything comes back to you. The quiet. The car. Swerving. Being thrown off. Hitting the barrier. You nod carefully.

“Good. That's good.”

“It’s bright in here.” You mumble quietly as you blink against the harsh light hitting your eyes.

He lifts his hand to run it across your brow carefully, “You got a concussion. The helmet did what it could, but with the speed you took that hit…,” he trails off. “You’re lucky to have worn the helmet.” 

He steps away from you and walks to the light switch, flipping off the light. You're left with the much more tolerable glow of the moon shining through the window to illuminate the room. “Thank you.”

He takes the seat next to the bed you're laying on and you take a moment to glance around the room. There's a desk pushed against the window that's piled high with books that look well loved and some other clutter. A dresser across the other wall with two picture frames: one of Jason, his brothers, and Bruce while the other is a photo of you and Jason. Then as you look to your right, against the bed is a machine that was making the rhythmic beeping–you now realize as your pulse–that pulled you from your sleep. 

It slowly hits you that you’re in Jason’s room at Wayne Manor, which is why it wasn’t instantly familiar, because you don’t stay here very often. You turn back to Jason and he's staring at you with watery eyes.

“Jay?”

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. “I– I couldn’t protect you. I should’ve done something different. Should’ve tried harder.”

You quickly shake your head, but stop when it makes you feel a little dizzy. “No. Jason this wasn’t your fault. You did what you could.”

“I thought you were dead,” his voice is barely a whisper, almost haunted by the memory. 

“But I’m not.” 

His forehead drops to where your hands are intertwined. “I’m sorry.”

“Jay, honey.” You lift your free hand to run through his soft waves. “It’s not your fault.”

He just clings onto your hand more desperately. 

“If it weren't for the gear you bought me, I wouldn’t be here. If you didn’t notice the car coming toward us, this would’ve been worse. You can’t change other people's actions, only how they affect you. You did that for me. I’m here because of you, okay?”

He nods ever so slightly against your arm. 

“Thank you for keeping me safe.” 

He lifts his head and rests his chin on your arm. A lone tear falls down his cheek and you quickly wipe it away. 

“Come here,” you whisper, “the bed’s cold without you.” 

He stands up and slides under the covers to wrap his arms around you gently, not wanting to hurt you where you might have bruises. His warmth soothes you immediately as you curl against his side. 

“What happened to the driver?” 

“Tim’s working on it.”

“Don’t do anything too severe.”

“No promises.” He leans down to press another kiss to your brow as a laugh bubbles from you, even though you know he’s likely not joking. 

He holds you through the night and doesn’t let himself fall asleep until you do, wanting to ensure you really are here, alive, in his arms. Once he felt your breathing even out against his chest, he brushed some of the stray hairs from your cheek to gaze at you. He leans in, pressing a feather light kiss to your brow as he whispers, “I won’t fail you again.”

A/N: soooo one of my friends now knows about my account and it's very weird to know she's probably reading this so... hey!

[ems-typewriter]

em's masterlist ৻ꪆ

಄ DC

dick grayson / nightwing

» Lacy, oh, Lacy

» Product Thief

» Anything For You

jason todd / redhood

» Snapping Into Place

» Daydream

» Ruination

» Friction

಄ PHM

ryland grace

» Collision Course

[ems-typewriter]

Ruination

pairing: royal guard!jason todd x princess!reader

summary: when reader is being pressured into a marriage, she finds an unlikely candidate she actually likes: jason, the captain of the guard

word count: 4.5k

warning/tags: sfw, fem!reader, readers' mom sucks, mild angst, fluff, no y/n, reader feels trapped in her life

The sharp knock at the door startles you from where you sprawled across your bed in your nightgown whilst half asleep. Without waiting for your response, the three women you've grown accustomed to since childhood walk inside your bedroom. The curtains are drawn back, your covers pulled off you, and the familiar sound of the bath filling breaks the once peaceful silence. 

“I don’t want to go today,” you mumble into your pillow. 

“You must attend the meeting with your family.” Alice, the oldest handmaiden of the three, pulls the covers further away from your reach as you try to cling to the warmth they gave you. 

You sigh dramatically as you relent trying to steal the covers back from Alice, but she’s very persistent when she wants to be. “But why must I wake up at 8:30 when the meeting isn't till 11:00?” You wonder if she must tire from having this conversation so often.

“Because it takes an hour and half to get you ready and you also must eat breakfast before going. Now up.” 

Slowly sitting up from the mattress and resting your feet against the bone chilling floor, you catch the sight of Gwen and Ira, your two other handmaidens, getting the bath ready and choosing the dress you are to wear at the meeting with your mother and father. You try to rub the sleep from your eyes, but you still feel like falling back into the heap of pillows and blankets. 

You thank Gwen for setting the bathroom up as you step inside and make quick work of shedding your clothes and stepping into the hot water. It does little to shake the sleep from your body, but with no time to linger in the water, you wash, then step out to dry and slip on the robe that rests on the counter. 

When you step back into your room, you sit at the vanity so Gwen can braid and pin your hair into a style suitable for the dress chosen and Ira can apply just enough makeup to enhance your features. You stare at a spot on the wall and let your mind go blank while they fuss over you. This was always the part of the day you dread–it made you feel like a doll being dressed to appease everyone else but yourself. 

Once dressed into an exquisite dress that leaves you quite literally breathless due to the corset that's cinched to the tightest it could go, you step into the matching ballet flats as Ira and Gwen take their leave while Alice stays behind, like always. 

“Please remember to mind your attitude with His and Her Majesty.” She brushes a curl that rested awkwardly on your shoulder to flow down the expanse of your back.

“I think I know how to handle my own mother and father,” you whisper back with a smile on your face. Alice had spent a lot of time with you growing up and she's become somewhat of a second mother–always doting over you, reminding you, and most importantly: listening, something your own mother chooses not to do at times.  

“I also know how you can be when Her Majesty makes decisions that you don’t agree with.”

“Because they’re always decisions about my life that I don't get a choice in. It's not fair.”

“I know it's not, but it's the price to pay for the castle you live in and the title you have.” 

“I didn’t ask to pay the price. I didn’t choose this bargain,” You say feeling that heat your chest lighting to life like a hearth. 

Alice, always calm as ever, runs a hand down your arm. “I know,” she whispered, “Just please, keep that fiery personality you have to a minimum.”

You relent with a quiet sigh, “Okay, I’ll try.”

She smiles and rushes you out the door to walk through the familiar castle halls and to the study room where your parents await your arrival. After 10 minutes of navigating, you stop in front of the solid wooden door that remains closed, then rasp your knuckles loud enough to catch the attention of your parents. 

“Come in!” 

The door lets out a loud creak as you open it and you step inside the familiar room. The large desk in the middle takes up the expanse of the room, with bookshelves lined with books on the shelves. Your mother and father sit on the opposite side of the desk as you take the plush seat across. 

“Good morning,” You say with as much confidence as you can muster in this moment. It’s not often they call you into formal settings like this. 

“Hello, my dear.” You’ve always been closer with your father even since a young age–your mother always expected so much from you and felt more like a tutor than a mom. “How are you this morning?”

“I’m okay, just mildly tired.”

“Stayed up late reading again?” 

You smile sheepishly, “Yes, maybe a little bit.”

Your father smiles at you from his seat, but when you glance at your mother, she wears an almost bored expression on her face, like she can’t imagine staying up through the night to read words off a page. “We needed to speak to you about what you’ve chosen to put off for years.” 

Her words immediately make the smile drop from your face and every bone in your body want to retreat from this room immediately. “No.”

“You need to marry,” her voice holds the authority as it would if she were making a public announcement to our people, “and you need to do it soon.”

“I don’t want to be forced into a marriage against my will. I am not some pawn to use so you can make your allegiances with neighboring kingdoms!” Desperation is not a powerful enough word to explain how you feel about avoiding this future. You loathe the idea of being forced into a marriage with a suitor you do not know and do not wish to marry. “I’m not even the heir, so why must I marry at your convenience?”

“While you may be last in line for the throne, we need alliances and we need heirs–both of which you can provide.” You look toward your father to silently plead to fight for you, but his face is full of pity. You shake your head and look back at your mother as she continues. “We have given you three years past legal marriage age to come to terms with this. You will not argue with this.” 

“I am sorry sweetie.” Your fathers tone tells you he fought for you while he could, but it's time to accept the reality. 

“We are holding a ball here in a month's time on solstice. We have eligible suitors coming in from different kingdoms to meet you.”

You’re at a loss of words as you stare at the woman who's supposed to care and support you as she betrays you with the sharpest knife she owns. You keep your head down as you stand from the chair, refusing to say a word to either of them and thankfully they don't stop you as you march out of the study and into the hallway. 

You don’t even think, just walk on autopilot through the hallways and out the back doors till you reach the gardens. The flowers are barely in bloom, only few colors outshine the green, but the environment relaxes you as you sit on the grass, looking like a desolate portrait.

“Princess.”

You turn your head at the familiar voice that cuts through the gusts of wind. “Captain Todd.” 

“Is there any particular reason you’re sulking in the gardens?”

“Just a few.” You turn back toward the flora and pat the spot on the grass next to you. “Sit with me.”

You hear the shuffle of his boots walking across and toward where you rest. As he sits down, you can't help but notice how much he sticks out against the soft nature that surrounds him. Captain Jason Todd, our father's best, and tasked with the mission of being your personal guard. He’s quiet, but rose up the ranks quickly due to the multiple skill sets he has. You’ve never asked about his past in the conversations you have forced from him, but you catch glimpses of the scars that linger across his body.

You sigh quietly and pick at the blade of the grass, “I am to marry.”

“This was already expected, no?”

“It was, but it doesn’t mean I was prepared for it. I thought maybe I would meet the love of my life before it would be declared upon me, but it seems that was a foolish dream after all.”

He doesn't say anything for a long moment and neither do you. The wind presses softly against your cheeks and reminds you of the gentle life you wished to have. As the sun starts to make its leave, casting the sky in shades of oranges and pinks, you feel less like a princess and more like a prisoner surrounded in finery.  

You stand and brush the dirt and grass from the skirt of your dress with a new determination to get out if only for a second. “I must retire to my rooms, but I will see you tomorrow?” 

He glances at you with narrowed eyes for a second too long before responding, “Yes, till tomorrow, Princess.” 

You walk off and back into the castle before he can question you further. Making it to your room in record time, you're pulling the pins from your hair then straining your arms to untie the corset by yourself. Finally, once done, you slip out of the recognizable dress and into a mundane dress that sits in the back of your closet–one that won’t draw attention to yourself. 

You pull your hair back into a singular braid to keep it out of your face, and nod in approval as you glance at the mirror. Perfectly simple. You throw your windows open and glance at the now midnight sky, then down at the drop below. You’ve taken this path enough times to know where to step as a makeshift ladder and where to avoid getting spotted by the guards. 

With careful movements, you climb out the window and onto the ledge below you before following the path to keep getting closer and closer to the grass, and when you finally step on the ground, the freedom hits you immediately. You’re not often allowed to go into town, which is why you’re familiar with the path to sneak out. 

However, that victory is short-lived as you hear someone clear their throat from your left. You slowly turn and come face to face with the permanent frown on the Captain's face. “Going somewhere?”

“Uh– just checking the weather, making sure it’s clear skies throughout the night.”

“Mhm.”

“Please don’t say anything about this.”

“I never have before.”

“Okay, goo– wait what?”

“You think I didn't know when you sneak out of the castle?” His arms are crossed and instead of wearing his royal gear, he's wearing casual tunic and trousers. 

“You’ve… known about that?” 

“Every time.”

“And you never said anything?”

“No, I would follow from afar to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid or attract the wrong attention.” He says it so bluntly that you’re not sure if you should be upset or touched. 

“But not tonight?”

He stares at you for a long second. “Not tonight. I don’t want you to be alone tonight.”

You smile up at your guard and loop your arm through his to pull him along with you. “Then come on, we have places to be.” 

The walk into town was quiet, neither of you saying anything significant, but you noticed all the small things he did while walking down the pathway. He’d pull you away strangers who stepped too close, kept his pace slightly in front of yours so he could react quickly to an attacker, and even moved the hood of your cloak on top of your head so you’d be less recognizable.  

Not many shops are open at this hour, but the occasional shop would have their lights on for the people who walk the streets at dawn. You walk past a small bakery with nobody sitting inside, and guide Captain Todd to the entrance. The mouth watering smell hit you immediately, pulling you to the counter to order one of the many sweets. 

As you chat with the lady running the shop, you're thankful she doesn't recognize you as you order two sticky buns and hot chocolates. The cup is warm in your hand as you take it and hand the second one to Jason. He takes the cup and the offered sweet as you make your way out of the shop to sit at the Courtyard.

Finding an empty seat is easy when nobody is in the open expanse, so you sit down and watch the few people walk by completely unaware that their princess is gazing upon them. 

“Why do you sneak out here? There’s nothing special about a late night snack you could get at the castle.”

“It’s not about the snack, it's the fact I’m out of the castle.” You pull your knees to your chest and rest your chin upon them. “I don’t get to choose my life there. It reminds me of dreaming at night and knowing you’re dreaming, but being unable to stop it–it feels magical at first, but when you realize there's no escape, it becomes a nightmare.”

You glance at the night sky and wonder if the moon feels trapped in its own cycles as well. Jason doesn’t say anything so you speak again, “I don’t get to choose my dress or my hair for the day. When I asked to be taught swordplay like my brothers, mother denied and assigned me a tutor for ballroom dance. When I wished to learn gardening I was told it was too messy and instead got sat before a piano.” You look back over at Jason and his eyes have softened as he gazes at you while you speak of your feelings. “Coming here is my choice. I get to roam freely and pick what I want, not what is decided for me.”

“Like the marriage,” he offers quietly.

You nod with a sigh, “Like my awaiting marriage.” Turning back to the street, you watch a couple holding hands while laughing freely with each other. Love. Something you may never experience at this point. 

“I will teach you.”

“Marriage?” You ask, confused as to what he is talking about. 

“No. Swordplay.”

You whip your head around to face him again, “You’d do that?”

He nods.

“What if you get caught? You’ll get in trouble for this if my mother finds out.”

“She won’t.”

“How can you be so sure?” 

“Trust me?” 

“Okay,” you breathe out as the reality of what he’s offering hits you. The smile on your face grows to a full grin before you tackle him in a hug while nodding. “Thank you, thank you!” 

His laugh–something you’ve never heard before–is rough and deep as he lays on the grass where you brought him down. “You're welcome.” 

The following night, dressed in a tunic and pants you found in the bottom of a drawer, you make your way to the now abandoned music room in the castle that Jason requested you meet him at. When you get there you see him resting against the wall with a wooden sword in his hand. You’d seen your brothers use those when they first started training at a young age, but never since then. 

“Captain.” You announce yourself to him in the dark room lit only by the soft glow of the moonlight. “This is your secret spot for us to train?”

“Mhm.”

“And you’re sure we won’t get caught? I cannot risk your title for the sake of an activity I want to learn.”

“They made this room soundproof when it was built and now that it’s not being used, it's a good place to make a lot of noise.”

Your cheeks heat slightly, but thankfully in the dark, he won’t be able to see. “Right,” you whisper, “I assume that's for me?” You walk further into the room whilst looking at the wooden sword. 

He nods, handing it to you. “It’s how every soldier was trained to use a sword in the beginning. We will start with this and work on how to handle and hold it.”

You run your finger along the smooth wood as you analyze it. There's a few blemishes indicating its own use, but it seems fairly new. You hold it up like how you imagine a guard would, but the Captain immediately corrects your form. 

“You want to keep your elbows up and have your feet apart to hold a good base. You don’t want to be knocked over on the first hit.” He goes through the proper stances and techniques with you on his own sword, correcting and making adjustments to your stance as needed. You do your best to mimic each move he shows you, but it’s not as easy as you’d once assumed. 

“No, no like this.” He holsters his sword and walks behind you to adjust your arms. “If you keep them far away from you, you’ll have less control. You always want to keep your arms close.” He pressed your elbow closer to your ribs. 

You turn your head to glance back at him not expecting him to be so close to you. One of his arms rests on your waist and the other on your elbow, and you become hyper aware of the heat radiating from his skin and through your clothes. You can’t help yourself when you glance down at his lips then back at his eyes that you realize shine a muted green under the moonlight. He watches you carefully, before blinking and dropping his hands and stepping back. 

Neither of you speak of the moment that passed as he urges you into the next position to stand. You can help but notice how your waist still tingles from where his hand lingered. 

You’d met Jason every night in the old music room to practice your swordsplay, which you’d even upgraded from the wooden sword to a real one, for the past month. It had been freeing to learn something of your own volition inside the castle walls. Tonight, however, there's no lesson to attend with the Captain because you’re to be paraded around in an overly exquisite gown to find your suitor. 

At your request, Alice is the only handmaiden in the room tonight. The thought of having more than one person in your space right now makes you feel even more sick to your stomach. She finishes the pins to keep your hair in the meticulously designed style while you force to keep the dinner in your stomach. 

“You look beautiful my dear, there's no reason to look horrified.” 

“I’m just… nervous. I don’t want to do this.”

“I’m sure there will be plenty of wine you could sneak.” She smiles at you through the mirror, and while that would normally make you laugh, it does little to ease your nerves.

She sighs and brings another chair to sit in while facing you. “Is this about the Captain?”

That snaps you from your jittery daze. “What? What does the Captain have to do with anything?”

She gives you a knowing look, “I’m not blind, I see the way that boy looks at you and how you look at him. I also know you’ve been sneaking off a night to go somewhere, which I’m assuming he’s been doing the same.”

“I haven’t– How did you know?”

“It’s my job to take care of you and know your whereabouts. Don’t worry, nobody else knows.”

You bring your hand to a bead on your dress to fidget with. “It’s nothing like that okay. He’s just been teaching me to use a sword.”

“And you can say you feel nothing for him?”

“I… I don’t know.” You admit to yourself for the first time that you might have become closer with your guard and you might have developed feelings for him.

“You might want to figure that out before you go out there to all the suitors who came here for you.”

“It doesn’t matter how I feel anyways, Mother would never allow him and I together.” 

“Let me deal with Her Majesty. Aspire for whomever you want.”

She stands back up and finishes with your hair, leaving you to think on her words and your own feelings. There were always little moments with Jason during the late nights and even times during the day where he would escort you to different places. You couldn’t explain it, but when you caught his gaze, you felt a magnetic pull toward him.

With everything finished, Alice helps you up and walks you outside of the ballroom. The doors are shut, and the guards standing by are waiting for your approval to open them and send your arrival announcement to the guests. 

You turn to Alice as she whispers, “You know what you want, do not be afraid to reach for the farthest star.” 

You pull her into a hug as a thank you, and when you step back, you nod at the guards to let you inside. The large double doors swing open and you hear the announcement: “And now please welcome the Princess of Gotham.”

You step into the ballroom and feel everyone's eyes turn to you. You plaster the polite smile onto your face as you walk down the few steps toward the floor where many men of ages similar to yours bow to you as you pass. The walk to get to your throne next to your brothers feels never ending, but when you glance up and see Jason standing by your throne as many of the other guards do, the panic eases slightly. 

Finally making it to your seat and sitting down as your father stands to make the announcement reminding everyone tonight is a night of merriment, but you know that's simply a deception. Everyone in this room knows it’s the night you choose your husband. 

The night drags on as you're pulled from person to person to dance with them. Your feet ache from following the music, you tire of the same conversation with each partner, and you feel nothing for any of these men. 

You take advantage of the small gap between suitors coming and asking for your hand in dance to escape and grab a glass of wine. When you walk to the refreshments and take a sip from your glass, you see a familiar brooding man with that white curl that rests upon his forehead standing by the corner scoping out the room as if waiting for someone to attack. With a smile you walk over to him.

“Captain Todd.” 

“Princess.” 

“What are you doing over here?”

“I’m watching over the room to make sure no harm will come out of tonight.”

You smile up at him. “Always on guard.”

“That is my job.” His tone is clipped as he speaks to you, which usually isn't the case. You were beginning to notice his voice softening each night you would meet with him, becoming so unlike the guard you once knew, but tonight it feels all progress has been reverted. You will not allow that.

“Dance with me.”

He finally meets your gaze. “What?”

“One dance.”

“No. I’m not the one you should be dancing with.”

“I get to decide who I dance with.” You grab his hand and try to pull him along, but he holds firm in his position.

“I will not risk you getting in trouble for something you do not truly wish for.”

You stare at him for a long moment, the self-deprecation in his eyes gleaming enough for you to see. “Please,” you whisper.

You see the hesitation in his eyes followed by the slight dip of his chin before you tug him along, this time with him following after you. Once you come to a stop in the middle of the ballroom floor, he carefully places a hand on your waist like he’s afraid his touch will burn you. “I’m not the best dancer.”

“That's alright, just follow my lead.”

Each step you take he follows along with, and for the first time this night, there is no over the top courting, talks of your partners lists of accomplishments, or even awkward compliments. It’s quiet with the small space between you both filled by the thrums of music. He doesn’t try to impress you or make you feel like an object being auctioned, instead its simply two souls dancing around each other. 

The song ends and he bows while you curtsy, but instead of taking a step away from him to be passed to the next suitor, you loop your arm through his and pull him along with you as you run out of the ballroom. He doesn’t question or try to stop you as you wind through the halls and open the doors to the gardens in the back. 

You stand before the garden that is now bloomed in a full array of colors that are nearly impossible to see with only the light of the moon hitting them. You look up at the stars that litter the night sky. Reach for the furthest star.

“The gardens?”

You just nod.

“Why did we just leave?”

“I don’t want any of those men. I cannot be with any of those men,” you whisper.

“I don’t think you have much of a choice, Princess.”

You turn toward him, your dress is practically glowing in the moonlight, as you stand only inches away from him. “I’m choosing now.”

His eyes drag across every feature on your face and you see the realization dawn on his own. “No. No, we cannot do that. It’s practically forbidden." His hands clench at his sides.

“There is no rule against it,” you counter.

He reaches for the loose strand of hair that had fallen during your dances with suitors you don't remember the name of and tucks it behind your ear. “I cannot put you through that.”

Your hand encircles his wrist to keep it at your cheek. You don’t say anything, you just watch him and hope he understands just how much you feel for him. 

“Your father would never forgive me. I could lose my title,” he says, but he leans down closer to you and his nose brushes yours. 

“I wouldn’t let him do that.”

He inhales sharply, “We can’t.” His voice is barely a rough whisper now. He shakes his head as if trying to pull himself out of it and step away but he stays firmly rooted in his spot. His other hand moves to your waist and pulls you flush against him. 

“Jason,” you whisper, and that's all it takes for his lips to crash against yours. His lips are soft against your own, but his kiss is rough, like he's scared someone will rip you away from his grasp. You move in synchrony, trading breath for breath till your heartbeats align, before he finally pulls away, resting his forehead against yours while smiling.

“You might just be my ruin, Princess.”

A/N: i didnt even realize how much i wrote till i pasted it from my google doc... anyways! olivias new song is SOOOO insanely amazing and canada race weekend is finally hereee

[ems-typewriter]

Collision Course

pairing: ryland grace x teacher!reader

summary: when reader accidentally bumps into the science teacher on their first day teaching, they become quick friends and cause suspicion among their students that there is more going on between them, which might just be true

word count: 4.2k

tags/warnings: sfw, fem!reader, both grace and reader are oblivious, mention of spider, no y/n, mention of death (brief), fluff

“Come on, come on!” Your fingers tap anxiously on your steering wheel as you not so patiently talk to the traffic light keeping you from turning onto the last street to get to Grover Cleveland Middle School. You glance into the back seat at all the last minute decorations you shoved into your car this morning to make your classroom into a comfortable space for your students. 

It's probably a little overkill, but you really want to make a good first impression on everyone at the new school you're working at as a 6th grade English teacher. It takes a while to gain “cool teacher” credit with students and you really want gain as much as you can today, starting with a fun classroom. 

Finally the light turns green and you finish the five minute drive into the parking lot. “You got this. No need to be nervous.” You mumble to yourself trying to get rid of first day jitters. 

Turns out trying to balance piles of paper chains, posters, fake plants, and more random stuff into one tote bag is more difficult than you'd thought it would be. Everything is piled so high you can barely see over all the crap in the bag while also trying to balance another tote bag on your shoulder with your laptop, paperwork, and phone all with an iced coffee in hand to top it off. 

Just as you think you got the hang of walking blindly through the hallways, you're able to catch a glimpse of blonde hair before colliding and all your crafts are sent tumbling to the ground. Thankfully, you're able to hold onto your coffee so it doesn't spill on the ground, but that comes at the cost of the tote bag holding your laptop also tumbling to the ground with a painful crash that makes you wince. 

You stare at the wreckage surrounding your feet then up at the other liable person in this situation. His eyes are widened behind his wired glasses as he stares at the mess before you both. His blond hair is messy like he ran his fingers through it a few times, his button up shirt fit him well enough that I can see the outline of his biceps from here, and you catch a glimpse of his name tag, but it's too far to make out.

“I– I didn't see you coming, I’m so sorry.” You blink a few times as you realize he's talking to you and you slowly drag your gaze back to his eyes. He's staring down at you with a wide eyed apologetic look on his face. 

You bend down to start picking up the pieces of crafts that are scattered. “No, it's okay. I probably should've made two trips instead of hoping for good luck that I'd make it unscathed across campus.” You shove the now very tangled fairy lights back into the bag.

He follows suit and helps you pick items off the ground. “Still, I should've been looking,” He mumbles quietly. “I um– I don't think I’ve seen you around. Are you new?”

You smile and glance up at him, but notice he's already looking at you. “Yeah. I just moved here, so it's my first day.” You didn’t really get the chance to interact with many people during staff week before the students' first day because you were more worried about filling out the paperwork properly and making assignments.

“Oh, well then, I’m Dr.Ryland Grace. 6th grade science.” He offers his hand, then realizes he was still holding one of my paper chains and drops it back to the ground then holds it back out.

A small laugh bubbles out of you and you shake his hand and offer your name. “I’m the new English teacher.” 

“Oh thank goodness, we needed a new one. Ms.Wilson, the teacher before you, was a bitter older lady who even the staff were afraid to bother.” He shutters slightly at the memory of her and you can’t help but laugh again. “She once threatened to take down my solar system when our shared students were talking about that instead of listening to her lecture.”

“Well, I’ll make sure to steer clear of your solar system so you have no evidence against me.” Finally your items are cleared off the ground and now either in your bag, your arms, or Dr. Grace’s arms. “You can just set that on top of my stuff.” 

“No, no. Let me help, considering it was partly my fault we’re in this situation.”

“That’s really sweet, but I don't wanna take you away from anything.”

“You’re not. There's about thirty minutes till they start letting students in and I don't have much to do till then.”

A subtle blush rushes to your cheeks as you nod absentmindedly, “Yeah, okay then. I’m in room 206.” You say as you start in the direction of your classroom.

“Oh! I’m room 207, right across from you.” You glance over at him as you walk side by side toward the room. His glasses have turned at an angle on his nose making him look a little more frazzled, but oddly enough, it works for him. 

The rest of the walk there is fairly quiet, only broken by other staff walking the halls toward their classrooms or the break rooms. Finally once outside your class, he’s able to open the door for you both and you walk inside. It's as dull as it was last week when you were here working with the other staff, but that's all about to change, starting with the big lights.  

You walk over to your desk and set down your coffee, then laptop bag–which reminds you to check to see if you broke it after it dropped–and all your decoration supplies. “You can just set that on the ground or something.” You tell Ryland as he stands almost awkwardly in the middle of the classroom. 

He carefully sets down everything in his hands onto the ground like he doesn't want anything to break anything, even though it would’ve already broken in the hallway if it was fragile. He remains standing in the middle of the class and brings his hand up to gently tug on the hair at the nape of his neck. “So, uh, do you– would you like any help setting up?”

You smile softly at him, “You don't have things to set up?” 

“Oh me? No, I did that during the staff days since I already knew where everything would go.”

“Then yeah sure, I could use some help.” 

You two quickly fall into an easy routine of connecting fairy lights together, hanging paper chains, stapling posters to the walls, and finding spots for all the fake plants and vines you brought with you. He even offered to stand on the desk while covering the big lights in the room with the shades you found online so you wouldn't have to. 

You're in the middle of hanging an LED sign when you glance at the clock. It's almost 7:45 which means Ryland should be heading back to his classroom so he can greet his students. You look over your shoulder to see him very focused on the task of arranging your desks the way you told him when he asked. His glasses sit on the edge of his nose while he looks over them at the desks to make sure they’re arranged properly.

“Ryland.” 

He startles slightly before turning around and pushing his glasses back up his nose. “Hm?”

“You should probably go back to your classroom considering school’s about to start and all.”

He glances at the clock then back at you, “Yeah, I probably should.” Yet he doesn't move from his spot.

You walk toward him, “Thank you a lot for helping and kinda becoming my first friend here. I was nervous I would be the teacher without people to talk to in the break room or something.” You admit quietly, stopping about a foot in front of him. 

He looks down at you with a soft smile pulled on his face and his ears turned slightly pink. “Of course. I mean, it'd be a pretty bad first impression if I left you to clean up the mess in the hallway alone.” 

Neither of you say anything until the intercom sounds and makes the both of you jump slightly and step away from each other. Your cheeks flush as you look anywhere but him. The announcement about first period starting in ten minutes forces him to leave your class with a rushed goodbye, leaving you standing in your classroom wondering what the heck you just got yourself into simply by bumping into the nerdy science teacher across the hall. 

The first day hadn’t gone as badly as your anxiety convinced you it would. The students seemed much more relaxed than you’d thought they would be and you made some progress with getting to know them. It’d been a day filled with an "about me" slideshow, ice breakers, and games you’d come up with in hopes the students would enjoy them.

You hadn’t seen Dr.Grace after your first encounter yesterday, but you wanted to thank him again for all the help, so here you are at a coffee shop wondering what the science teacher across the hall would want to drink. He seems like someone who would like coffee, but maybe he prefers tea? Maybe he doesn't like any sugar in his drink and would rather have plain black coffee? Gosh, this is the worst thank you gift when you don't even know what he likes.

You find yourself experiencing a moment of deja vu as you walk into the building through the staff door balancing your bag on your shoulder, some loose items in your hand, and a coffee tray with all four slots filled. Since you didn't know what he liked, you gave him three options: a latte with different syrups that will make it taste more like sugar than coffee, an iced green tea, a hot black coffee with sugar packets and creamer cups on the side, and then finally your own coffee order in the last slot.

Last second, a body comes out of the same room as yesterday when you ran into Ryland, but thankfully you're able to dodge them this time. “Sorry–”

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”

You look up properly and sure enough, the voice belongs to none other than the reason you're mildly distracted this morning. “Dr.Grace,” you breathe out, “you scared me.”

He laughs quietly, “Is there any particular reason you brought enough caffeine for four people?”

You feel the heat rush to your cheeks in embarrassment as it hits you just how insane it was of you to go through all this trouble of buying three different drinks for him. “I– I just wanted to thank you for yesterday, but I realized when I got to the coffee shop I didn't know what you drank so I got you… options?” 

He pushes his glasses to the top of his head as he scans the drinks you're holding then your face. “For me?”

A nervous laugh bubbles out of you without permission. “Yeah.” You go into explaining what each drink is, and the entire time he held onto your every word like you were explaining some scientific phenomena you experienced and not coffee orders. 

“Wow. You really covered every base here.” He smiles down at you as you finish your explanation. “You really didn’t have to do this.”

“It felt like the right thing to do.” You hold the tray a little closer to him, “So Dr.Grace, the choice is yours.”

He reaches for the plain black coffee and the sugar and creamer that are balanced on top of the lid. “Three sugars and two creamers.” 

“Good to know for future reference.”

“This is gonna happen again?”

“I’m sure I’ll need your help again.”

The tips of his ears turn slightly pink and your cheeks a little pinker. He clears his throat, “What about the other drinks?”

You look down at the tray, “I’ll try and give them to my classroom neighbors and see if that can get me on their good side.” You turn with the intention to do just that before the ice waters the drinks down. “I’ll see you around?” 

“Yeah. See you around.” 

As the weeks of the school year have gone by, things with Ryland have slowly progressed. He’s the first person you seek out in the mornings, who you spend most of your break room time with, and the person you go to first when you need help. It’s becoming so apparent that even your students have started to notice something is going on.

It started when you and him got put on lunch duty together and spent most of the time “flirting” according to your students, which you weren't. Evidently, 6th graders love the drama of their teachers as well and started making speculations on your relationship with Dr.Grace. I mean sure, you had asked him for help when one of your light covers fell and you couldn’t reach to hang it back up. And maybe you'd ask him for extra staples, markers, or anything you ran out of instead of hitting up the break room during your off periods. And yes, he’d spent every lunch in your room together, but none of that meant anything. You were simply colleagues. 

This week was school spirit week and in the email they'd sent out, it required staff to participate as well. Today was mismatch day, which you think you nailed considering the clashing patterned clothing you wore and the two different colored converse. Tomorrow, however, is twinning day, which you and Ryland agreed to do together and have been trying to coordinate for the past thirty minutes. 

“Okay, so we've agreed on the white converse and blue jeans, but what about the shirt?” His voice comes through the speaker of your phone while you rummage through your clothes. 

“I don't know, I mean I guess we could do a solid colored shirt, but that's boring.”

“Agreed.” He pauses for a moment and you can only hear what you'd assume are drawers opening and closing on the other end, “Or um– maybe you could wear one of my cardigans?” 

Your hand freezes on the hanger you were about to push aside and you swear he's able to hear your heart rate increase through the speaker. “What?” Your voice is almost a whisper.

“Nothing, sorry, that was a stupid idea.”

“No! No, I didn't mean it like that, I just… didn't expect that, but it could work.”

“Yeah? I mean only if you're okay with it.”

You nod, before remembering he can’t hear you. “I’m okay with it.” 

“Okay. Okay yeah, I’ll bring the fox one you like tomorrow."

You smile, grabbing your phone from the dresser and flopping down onto your bed. 

“Deal. I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“Yeah.” 

You both linger on the phone neither saying anything for a second too long. 

“Bye, Ryland.” You whisper with a smile on your face.

“Bye.”

The following morning, you walk in wearing your designated matching outfit and instead of walking to your class, you walk across the hallway to Ryland’s so you can borrow the cardigan. You knock on his door, something you've had to start doing after the incident from a few weeks ago when he was standing on a desk to adjust his hanging solar system before you walked in and startled him and he fell off the desk and took down three planets with him. 

“Dr.Grace.” You say as you walk into the room. 

He looks up from his desktop to give you his full attention. You’ve already spotted the cardigan resting on top of the desk for you. “Hi.” He says as he grabs the cardigan for you, “I uh– I washed it last night so don’t worry, it's not gross or anything.” He rubs the back of his neck almost anxiously. 

“I wouldn’t have thought that either way, but good to know.” You smile at him, “Thank you.” You slip the cardigan onto yourself leaving you and him matching for the rest of the day. You can’t help but notice the distinct smell of laundry detergent and mint that the cardigan radiates, leaving you with a warm feeling in your stomach. 

When you look back up at him he’s staring at you, or more specifically his cardigan on you, and his ears turn slightly more pink the longer his gaze lingers. “Ryland?”

He looks up, continuously blinking, as if trying to block out his thoughts, “Hmm?”

“You okay?”

“I’m great, just got a lot of work to do before class starts so…” His fingers tap restlessly on the desk.

“Oh! Yeah, I'll– uh leave you to it.” You turn and leave his class without another word. His reaction was weird even for him, and now you’re left feeling slightly self-conscious about the decision to borrow it, even if it's just for a school spirit day.

As your class files in, some take notice of the sweater and give you bright smiles in greeting. You choose not to think much of it because there’s no reason your students care that about your personal life, right?

How very wrong you were. You were lecturing your students about figurative language, when you glance over to the window on your door, see Ryland teaching his class. He gestures passionately with his hands while giving his students what is probably a well thought out, but still slightly chaotic, lecture that grasps their attention.  

You smile softly as you watch a smile form on his face. How can someone look so perfect while teaching a middle school science class?

You didn’t realize you zoned out and lost focus until you heard a few students call your name. You blink out of your haze and turn back toward your class of students who all saw you lose focus to the teacher next door. “What were you looking at?”

“Oh, nothing, I just zoned out.” You turn your attention back to the whiteboard with every intention of brushing it off, but no, your students aren’t gonna let that happen.

“Were you looking at Dr.Grace?” 

“What? No, I just zoned out, that's all it was.”

Another student, “Do you have a crush on Dr.Grace?”

“Guys, you cannot ask questions about your teachers' personal lives like this.” 

“Are you dating? Please say you're dating.” Wow, okay everyone has decided they want a turn to speak today. You try to ignore the heat you feel crawling toward your cheeks because of the topic.

Your classroom then starts filling with conversations between students or questions directed at you to the point you can’t make out what anyone is saying. “Okay, okay settle down guys.” You call out over their voices, which thankfully gets them to quiet down. 

“No more questions about teachers' personal lives, but no we are not dating and no I do not have a crush on Dr.Grace.”

“But you're swearing his cardigan.” 

You look down and frown slightly at the clothing that you’ve been hyper aware of ever since you put it on. “Well yeah, it's matching day. I'm matching with Dr.Grace.”

“Still his sweater.”

You choose to ignore that last comment and the butterflies that flutter at the reminder that it's his. Thankfully when you turn back toward the board this time, your students remain quiet till the bell rings and they leave. 

The whole day Ryland was acting weird, and made you come to the conclusion he was avoiding you. He wasn’t in the break room at 11:30 like he usually is during his off period. When you went to his classroom to check on him, he also wasn't there, but that could just be a coincidence. However, when the day ended and you went to his class to say goodbye because he always stays thirty minutes later, his light was off and the door was locked. That left you feeling really weird coming into campus today. 

You walk into your classroom and get settled in, but your mind is still repeating yesterday and what you could've done to cause him to avoid you like this. The conclusion you’ve come to: nothing. You're barely focusing as you're grading your papers, too lost in thought, causing you to miss the spider crawling on your desk heading toward you. 

You finally see it when it crawls onto the paper you’re grading. Simultaneously you drop everything you were holding, push your chair back so hard you fall back and you end up screaming loud enough to capture the (currently unwanted) attention of the science teacher who was walking into his classroom. 

Your door swings open and he stands there looking down at you panicking, “Are you okay?” He’s already by your side to help you back up into a standing position.

“Spider! Oh my gosh, there's a freaking spider!” 

He pauses at your side in the midst of pulling you back up. “A spider?”

“Yes Ryland!” When you sneak a glance at him and see he has the audacity to laugh at you in such a vulnerable state, you glare at him. “This is not funny! He was about to bite me and then I’d be injected with poison and die! Do you want me to die?” 

“No, I don’t want you to die.” He says while still laughing and then finally pulling you to your feet and turning toward the direction of the spider you refuse to lose sight of. “I’ll take care of it.”

You watch intently as he grabs the paper and covers it with a cup to take outside. You stay in your classroom checking for anymore while he deposits the arachnid into its natural habitat and then returns. “All safe.”

You look up from where you were checking behind a bookshelf just in case. “Thank you.” You then remember you brought his cardigan with you to give back to him since you didn't see him at all yesterday. “Oh! I have your cardigan.”

You walk toward your bag and pull out the carefully folded fox sweater and hand it to him, your fingers brushing slightly as he takes it. “I was gonna give it to you after school ended but you weren't in your class like usual.”

He looks down at his shoes then back to you, “Yeah sorry about that.”

“Did I do something wrong?” You blurt out.

“What? No! No you didn't do anything wrong.”

“Then why does it feel like you were avoiding me?”

He glances down at his shoes for a second before mumbling, “I wasn't… intentionally avoiding you.”

“So you did it unintentionally?” 

“I don't know.” He admits, “I just– it’s stupid.”

You step slightly closer, and gently touch his bicep–which is a lot stronger than you'd thought it'd be–and hope he doesn’t pull away. “Maybe, but don't I get a say in if it is or isn't stupid?”

He stares at your hand on his bicep until you drop it back to your side and then looks down at you. “You were wearing my cardigan. I know it was for a silly spirit day and it didn't mean anything, but it felt like something.” He takes a breath. “You wearing my sweater made me wish that it wasn't just for a spirit day, but everyday with every article of clothing I own.”

“You liked me wearing your clothes?”

“A lot.”

“So you… chose to ignore me because of it?”

“I didn’t want to say something stupid and ruin everything.”

“And what would you qualify as something stupid being said?”

“Like… asking you out on a date. A proper one that isn't in the break room with mediocre coffee.”

You smile softly, “What if I said yes? Would it still be stupid then?”

“Well, no, but–”

“Then yes. I’d love to go on a date with you Dr.Grace.”

“Yeah?” He smiles at you over the rim of his glasses that have now slipped down his nose, as his cheeks turn slightly pink. “Would you be free at seven tonight?”

“I would.” You smile then lift your hand and push his glasses back up his nose.

He carefully lifts his hands bringing one to cup the side of your face and the other slotting against your waist. “Then it's a date.” 

He gives you every chance to pull away, but you don’t, if anything you lean closer to help close the distance between you. He kisses you gently, almost like he’s scared of pushing you too far and you’ll take back everything, but you won’t. When you bring your hand up to tangle in his hair, he lets out a soft gasp then pulls away from you, before you get carried away and he can’t bring himself to stop. 

His forehead is pressed against yours and his breathing is slightly ragged. You smile as you gaze up at him. “It’s a date.” You agree before giving him one more lingering kiss and stepping back. “Let’s just not let the students find out about this because they'd have a field day with this information. 

He laughs bringing his hand to his mouth to make a zipping motion that his lips are sealed. You roll your eyes at his antics, but your laugh betrays you showing your true feelings. This 6th grade science teacher you bumped into on the first day of school may just be it for you.

A/N: im actually really proud of this one and how much i wrote. project hail mary is my hyperfixation right now, and i just kept coming up with little scenarios and didnt want to leave any out!

[ems-typewriter]

Anything For You

pairing: dick grayson x college student!reader

summary: when reader has spent a little too much time at the library, dick comes to be her savior and make sure she's okay

word count: 1.5k

warnings/tags: sfw, no y/n, established relationship, reader neglects herself, fem!reader, use of pet names, fluff, comfort

You're starting to think the fluorescent lights and the too bright screen of your laptop is finally getting to you. After sitting in the same chair staring at the same subject since eight in the morning, you’ve finally overloaded your brain. You check the clock on your laptop; it's now 8:45 at night. 

You’d done everything to keep yourself from getting distracted: bringing noise canceling headphones (which died an hour ago), drove to the library to be in a study space, and even turned your phone off completely. That included sending Dick a warning text that you are in fact alive, but you're not gonna be able to respond to any calls or texts. You can’t imagine he was thrilled about that considering how protective he is over you, but you needed to focus 110 percent. 

You’d met Dick when your friends claimed you always chose reading in bed over going out with them, so you were forced to a party that night. He had stumbled upon you trying to find a reprieve from the party after you'd had a beer spilled on you, your friends left to dance with some guys, and a dead phone meaning you couldn't call an Uber. He didn't even know you, but he chose to ignore his friends to make your night better.

He gave you his hoodie to change out of the alcohol-ridden shirt, found a charger for your phone, and even danced with you in an empty room he found just so your night wasn't a complete disaster. Ever since that night, he sought you out, because he found himself able to confide in you in a way he couldn't with anyone else; sometimes even himself. He made it his mission to become your second half, which he quickly succeeded in, even though you two couldn't be more different. 

He was the golden boy of Gotham U and always had to play that part, but with you, he didn't keep that facade up. He was finally just Dick. You never cared about his name or his wealth or even his looks, you saw him for who he was in his soul. Maybe that's why he started to look for you in quiet spaces.  

You blink a few times as the laptop screen goes in and out of focus. Maybe you should start to listen to Dick when he reprimands you for not drinking enough water. You sigh, setting your forehead on the table and close your eyes trying to ignore the throbbing pain behind your skull that's been growing every hour. Maybe a small nap would help? Just five minutes of break then you'll be good to keep going.

A familiar voice pulls you from your thoughts of napping. “Hey, little bookworm!”

The nickname alone tells you exactly who it is without needing to glance up, but you still find yourself lifting your head. Just as you’d thought, the voice belongs to none other than Wally West. One of Dick’s closest friends and in turn someone you've had to interact with often. “Hi, Walls.” You mumble, pushing your hair behind your ears. 

“I mean this with love, but you look terrible.” he looks at you then turns your laptop toward him, “How long have you been here?”

“Like, twelve-ish hours?” 

“Twelve hours?” He stares at you dumbfounded, “Are you insane?”

“No, I’m not insane, I just care about my academics.”

“Riiiight. And does Dick know you've been here for that long?”

You grab your pen to click it open and closed. “I texted him that I was turning my phone off a while ago.”

He narrows his eyes, “You didn't mention where you were, did you?”

You keep your gaze focused solely your new favorite fidget as you unclick it again, “It may have been… accidentally left out.”

“You know how he feels when you overwork yourself.”

“Yeah, well I want to pass my exams.” You counter, “Look Wally, I really have to focus on my work.”

“You need to go home.”

“I’ll go when I feel prepared.”

He sighs, hopefully with the intent to leave me alone, “Okay, I can’t force you to leave.” He lifts his hands in a surrendering motion, “Just take a break, ‘kay?

You nod absentmindedly because you have no intention of taking a break. He ruffles your hair just enough to the point you have to run your fingers through it to fix it, before he leaves. 

Another thirty minutes have gone by and you still don't feel prepared enough. What if the exam covers something different? What if you don’t understand the smallest details? What if–

You're pulled out of your head when a bag and drink gets placed on the desk in front of you, then familiar arms wrapping around you from behind. “I thought we agreed on no more overworking yourself.” Dick’s breath tickles your ear from how close he is. 

“I’m not overworking.” You rest your head back against his chest, and the familiar action makes you want to cuddle against his warmth and fall asleep on him. 

He leans down pressing gentle kisses down the open of your neck. “Mmm, that's not what Wally told me,” he mumbles, “and you feel oddly tense for someone who’s totally relaxed.”

Of course he told Dick. “Well, Wally’s a snitch.” You pull away from him slightly as heat rushes to your cheeks, “And we're in a library, so maybe cool it on the kissing.” You can’t help but still get embarrassed when Dick shows you affection like this in public. You’ve always done your best to draw the least attention, which is his specialty. 

He plants you one last kiss on your temple while smiling, before stepping away and pulling the empty chair at the table so its armrest is touching yours and sitting down. “I brought you food.” He gestures to the bag and drinks he placed on the tables a minute ago. 

“I'm not hungry.” Maybe saying it out loud will convince your body of that very obvious lie too, but as if on cue your stomach grumbles loud enough for him to hear. 

He gives you that signature smile of his that makes you want to both kiss him breathless and ignore him for being so perfect. “Right, no of course.” His voice is full of sarcasm while he pushes your notes aside to make room for you to eat.

You begrudgingly take the bag and find inside you favorite homemade dish. “You made this for me?” You whisper quietly.

“With my own two hands.”

You turn in your seat before wrapping your arms around him and burying your face into his neck. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, baby.” You close your eyes as he carefully runs his fingers through your scalp in the way he knows you love. “Eat your food, finish whatever chapter you're on, and then I’m taking you home where I can make sure you don't run yourself dry anymore.” 

The next thirty minutes you eat the food he cooked for you while simultaneously going over your notes. He keeps his arm resting on the back of your chair with his fingers brushing your shoulder as a reminder to eat whenever you haven't taken a bite of the food in a while. 

Once you take the last bite of food, he's deemed you done studying for the night and takes the notes from your hand and starts putting them away in your backpack. You don't even protest anymore since you're practically falling asleep sitting up right in the chair. When everything is put away, he swings the strap of your bag over his shoulder, takes your hand to help you up, and walks you both out of the library. 

“You really didn’t have to do all this for me.” You say as you get to the parking lot and he grabs your keys from the bag since you definitely can't drive in this state. 

“And you really need to understand I’m always gonna do this for you.” He opens the passenger door to let you in then rounds the car and takes the driver seat. “Besides, if you died from starvation in the library, who would be there to kiss me better after patrols?”

“I’m sure you'd have plenty of volunteers.” You laugh quietly.

“Yeah, but none would compare to you.” 

“Sap.” You smile sleepily while staring out the window.

“Only for you.” 

Your eyes flutter shut and you fall asleep before he even puts the car into drive. 

The sound of a blaring alarm pulls you from your dream. You look around your room mildly confused as you fumble with the off button. When did you get here? You glance over at your night stand and see your phone plugged in, a glass of water filled, and a post it note next to it. 

I had patrol early this morning and couldn't stay. I set your alarm for an hour before your exam giving you time to get ready and drive to campus. Good luck on your exam. I love you. -DG 

A/N: im unsure how i feel about this one. I think i might be better at writing jason than dick, but please let me know!!

[ems-typewriter]

Product Thief

pairing: dick grayson x reader

summary: dick grayson using your shower products

word count: 621 (very short drabble/headcannon)

warnings/tags: sfw, fem!reader, established relationship, no y/n, use of pet names

Dick Grayson 100% uses your hygiene products. Shampoo? His. Conditioner? His. Your sugar scrub? Also his. You didn't even realize at first, until you noticed everything running out just a little sooner than normal. That and the fact he started to smell like you. 

You had just gotten out of the shower, towel still wrapped around you. You went to use the new sugar scrub you’d gotten the other day after running out again, when you noticed there was already an indent in the product. Dick had just gotten home from patrol and was brushing his teeth at the sink ready to fall asleep after a grueling night. 

“Dick?” 

He glances over, a little bit of toothpaste stuck on the corner of his mouth, as he mumbles around his toothbrush, “mhm?”

“Are you using my shower products?” Your tone is only slightly accusatory because you really wouldn't mind if he was, it's just the fact you're spending twice the money you used to on them.

You glance at him and it's a rare sight of the self assured Dick Grayson, looking sheepish. He quickly does one last run over with the toothbrush before spitting into the sink then looking back at you. “I'm sorry!” He folded immediately, "They're just are so much nicer than mine and–”

You walk over to him and grip his bicep lightly, “I’m not actually mad, honey.” His body seems to deflate at that small reassurance. “I just wish you'd told me sooner, so we could figure out a way to split the cost or something. That shampoo costs $30 a bottle and usually lasts three months, but it only lasts one now.”

“Thirty dollars! That's outrageous.” 

You laugh and rest your head against his chest, “There's a reason you like mine better.”

He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, “One of the many reasons.”

You tilt your head up at him with your eyebrows furrowed, “One?”

His lips are pulled into a cocky smile, “Yeah they’re nice and all, but they smell like you. I liked that a lot.”

“You’re insane Grayson.”

“You love me though.”

“That I do.” You sigh quietly, before running your fingers through his hair, “I should've realized sooner. Your hair does feel softer.”

Unconsciously his hand lifts to run through his hair. “Yeah, I guess it does feel better.” 

After that conversation you start to notice little things. Your perfume bottle will be slightly askew from where it's normally left, which you come to find out is Dick spraying it on the left wrist of his nightwing suit, so whenever he has a tough night he can smell his wrist and feel at home again. The bathbomb you got in a birthday care package, used and ended up leaving you with a blue stained tub and an extensive search history on your laptop on how to remove stains. 

The biggest thing you now notice however, is any product Dick uses always gets replaced. If the conditioner is on its last drops, Dick has the replacement waiting under the sink. According to him he doesn't want you to spend your hard earned money on something he uses too. 

It also turned into him buying face masks for you to do together, which quickly became a routine known as Sunday selfcare nights. It's just a cozy night of hot cocoa, taking turns picking the movie, and putting face masks on each other, all while cuddled together on the couch with Haley sprawled across both yours and Dicks lap. You even got him a specially made nightwing headband to keep his hair back. 

A/N: this was very short because it was just a small idea i imagined about dick, but didnt have a full story for so hope you like it!!

[ems-typewriter]

Lacy, oh, Lacy

pairing: dick grayson x reader

summary: when reader see's their boyfriend talking with an ex, they can't help but feel unworthy in comparison

word count: 1.5k

warning/tags: sfw, fem!reader, angst, comfort, no y/n, inner thoughts of insecurity and comparison, mentions of throwing up, mentions of alcohol, based off lacy by olivia rodrigo, use of pet names

When Dick brought up going with him to the bar and the others, you thought he was talking the usual Jason, Tim, Steph, and sometimes Cass. However, when you got to the bar and practically everyone you passed, Dick was greeting with his golden boy smile, you realized you were severely mistaken.

Left and right you were learning new names and then promptly forgetting them as you were introduced to the next person wanting to talk to Dick. You found yourself wishing that you'd made an excuse to stay home so you wouldn't be subjected to this headache inducing small talk. Dick was eventually pulled away by Wally so they could catch up, leaving you with a lingering kiss on your temple and a promise to be back soon.

That was 45 minutes ago. You’ve watched from the background at the bar top as he was pulled from person to person to chat. Something about his demeanor has stopped you from walking to his side, and instead choosing to admire him from afar. His smile isn't dimmed from looming worries of the next criminal to overtake the streets, his shoulders aren't burdened with the weight of every problem he believes he can fix, and his eyes shine in a way that makes you want to offer him this reprieve every night. 

You take a sip of your cocktail that tastes more like water after sitting untouched for so long. Just as you're about to make your way back to your social butterfly of a boyfriend, you're stopped by the sight of a woman, seemingly made of angel dust, walking toward him. Watching the scene play out in front of you makes the little bit of alcohol you had churn in your stomach, because she is easily recognizable from the bit of internet stalking you did after first meeting Dick. 

Dick had told you about his previous girlfriends, but never in detail, because like he said “they're in the past, and you are my forever.” You never minded that he had dated around before meeting you, until this moment, because no online post could have prepared you for the jaw dropping literal alien space princess that pulls him into a hug. Nothing about it seems flirty, but that's not the reason you can't pull your eyes away from the scene, it's because you can't help but compare yourself to her. 

Kori holds herself with a confidence you've never felt before and you imagine she would understand parts of Dick that you probably never will because she fights crime. She understands making the tough decision or the exhaustion that you've seen run bone deep when Dick comes back from a long patrol that you'll never be able to relate to as a barista. 

Time continues ticking, your heart continues beating, they continue laughing, but you feel anchored to this seat by your own mind. Your head is a minefield of insecurities and you keep stepping on every hidden pressure plate. 

Maybe you're not enough for him and he needs someone more like him. Someone who catches everyone's attention when they walk into a room. Someone who can handle themselves and doesn't complain about a stressful day working at a coffee shop when that's nothing compared to what he does. Maybe he needs someone who–

Your train of thought is cut off by the familiar feeling of bile rising in your throat. You quickly stand, taking the back exit of the bar, before hunching over and spilling the contents of your stomach in the darkened alleyway. You try to convince yourself that you don't care. She seems like the better choice, but oh, you care so deeply. 

Standing back up to full height, you press your back against the cool brick of the alley way and let the wind whip against your cheeks to calm you. You didn't even realize you had closed your eyes till you felt a warm hand sneak up your waist and the familiar spiced citrus scent envelop your nose. 

“Hey, baby,” he pushes some of the slightly sweaty strands of hair from your face, “you sick?”

“No, no, I’m fine.” 

“You didn't look fine when you ran out of the bar and you don't look fine now.”

“I didn't run out.”

“Don’t change the subject.” You finally force your eyes open coming face to face with his gaze scanning you over trying to find what's wrong. Worry lingers on every feature of his face, “Did you drink too much?”

“Yeah, just a little.” You lie straight to his face. How are you supposed to admit you were basically worshipping his ex in your head and convincing yourself he wouldn't want someone who doesn't compare to everything that Kori is? “You should go back, seriously, I’m fine.”

He runs his thumb across the bridge of your nose while speaking, “You know whenever you lie, your nose wrinkles slightly.”

“What? No it doesn't." 

“Baby, I’ve learned everything about you, including your ticks for when you lie.” He takes a breath as his thumb strokes your cheekbone, “I can't fix it if you don't tell me what's wrong.”

You stare up at him and see the genuine fear in his eyes that you're shutting him out and he can’t do anything about it. Dick is a fixer–always trying to find a way to seamlessly put everything back together, especially for you. “I worry that I’m not good enough for you.” 

His eyebrow furrows slightly, a frown tugs his lips down slightly, and his grip on your waist becomes slightly tighter. “What are you talking about? Of course you're enough for me–you’re more than enough for me, baby.”

“But I'm not! I’m not some goddess space alien princess and I'm not some vigilante who's gonna understand what it's like to go out there every night and protect people. I don’t–”

“Is this about Kori?” He asks to cut you off from your ramblings.

“No? Yes? I don't know.” You cover your face with your hands, your words muffled through them, “Your friends with vigilantes that kids look up to and have action figures of, while I make people's coffee for a living. I don't know how to take down the next bad guy, or know how to hack into mainframes, or even do a pull up. How could I ever stand out next to people like that?”

His touch is gentle as he pulls your wrists away from your face and then cups your cheeks. “You stand out because you don't do that. You think I want you to be a vigilante? I don't. I don't want you to experience how I feel when I come home. I don't want you to run towards the danger I do. I don't want to know the feeling of you getting a life threatening injury and me being utterly unable to save you.” He shakes his head, “I don't want you to be like them, because I know what each of them have been through because of what they do, and I would never want you to go through that.”

“But–”

“No, I’m not done.” He shakes his head, “You are the thing I look forward to at the end of the day because I know when I have you in my arms, I'm done fighting. I don't have to cater to everyone's needs, I don't have to worry about getting shot or stabbed or punched, instead I get to breathe. I didn't get to do that before I met you. Not with Kori, not with Barbara, but you.”

Your breath catches in your throat, making it impossible to speak, but even if you could, you don't know what you’d say. Thankfully you don't have to, because he starts talking again. 

“I love you for all those extraordinary things you see as just ordinary because to me, everyone in that bar is dull in comparison to everything you bring into my life.”

You wrap your arms around his neck which he immediately responds to by pulling you closer to his warmth and pressing his forehead to your shoulder. You didn't realize how much you needed to hear his words until he was spilling his guts to you.

“I’m sorry.”

“Dont apologize, just dont let these thoughts fester in that pretty little head of yours. You will always be the only one I want.”

When you look up at him, you realize how insignificant those thoughts were, because he's staring down at you like you personally hung the moon in the sky just for him. Like you are the only person he’d want in a room full of extraordinary people. 

A/N: was only listening to sad olivia while writing this. always remember no matter what you or anyone says about you, you are more than enough. be kind to yourself, because the world is harsh enough as it is <3

[ems-typewriter]

Daydream

pairing: jason todd x bookseller!reader

summary: a new regular captures the readers attention, but what do they do when he just stops showing up

word count: 2.1k

warnings/tags: sfw, fem!reader, mention of injury (brief), fluff, mild angst, no y/n, reader is definition of yearning, cursing, fem!pronouns

“Excuse me?” 

“Ma’am?”

“…I could use some help.”

You blink, breaking from the fog of your own thoughts, when you remember where you are and what you’re doing. You glance over at the woman who broke your focus from a particular spot—no, from him.

“Yes, sorry, what can I help you with?” you ask as you feel the heat creep up your cheeks from the embarrassment of getting caught staring. 

Working at the local bookstore has its perks—the discounts, free pastries, and Maggie, the manager you’ve known since you started coming here in high school. You’ve been working here since she offered you the job at 16, and even now, nothing could beat the quiet days with the comforting smell of books.

However, something recently had been impeding on the serenity of the job. 

Him.

He showed up about a month ago and has become somewhat of a regular. He’s usually here in the mornings when it’s the least crowded and the quietest. Sometimes he grabs a book off the shelf and walks to the back couch to read and other times he wanders the shelves seemingly in thought. Every time he attracts my attention. 

You don’t even know his name, and yet whenever you have the smallest interaction with him you feel the blood rushing to your face. Maybe its the scars that litter his skin that make your curious to know exactly how they would feel under the pad of your finger or maybe the fact he always leans toward the classics whenever he’s browsing. Whatever the reason, he has you enraptured. 

Right now he’s sitting on the small couch in the back he always claims, and reading the copy of Frankenstein he brought with him. His brown leather jacket now sits on the back of the couch leaving him in a fitted shirt that has been the root of my distraction for the past 10 minutes. 

You blink away any thoughts of him as the woman who asked for help gives you the title of a book she was picking up for her daughter. You lead her toward the fantasy section, pointing out the book she named. As you walk back to your counter, you lift your head to glance back over at the man, but you find his gaze already locked on yours. Shit. You lower your head quickly not wanting to get caught, but it’s too late because when you peak up again only seconds later, he’s still looking. 

This isn’t the first time it’s happened, but every time it does, you can't help but chalk it down to coincidence, convincing yourself you simply made too much noise. You grabs some books with the intent of busying yourself on organizing things behind the counter to take your mind off the stranger. 

It's not until an hour later when your ducked under the counter trying to fix the handle of the cabinet that has been broken for days, when you hear that familiar voice. 

“Excuse me.”

You startle, and when you stand up it’s less graceful than planned. Pain shoots through the top of your head as you bang it on the underside of the counter. “Ow— shit.” You curse bringing your hand to the source of pain willing it to disappear. 

Your mind narrows on the pain and you momentarily forget he’s in front of you, until a warm hand grips your elbow and pulls your hand from your head. “Geez, didn’t mean to scare you.” He mumbles, and you snap out of the fog of pain realizing he’s stepped behind the counter and is now inspecting where you hit your head. 

You try to step out of his grip, but he pulls you even closer. “I’m fine, it was just a small bump on the wood.” You really don’t know if you’re trying to convince him or yourself considering you wince when he presses too hard causing a shooting pain through your scalp. 

“I’ll be the judge of that.” He says with a hint of concentration in his voice, making you want to turn around and see the furrow in his brow you always notice whenever he’s reading his books. “Yeah, you’re fine.” 

“Wow, thank you so much for that detailed analysis doctor,” You roll your eyes slightly as he lets go so you can turn to face him. Up close you can see the faint freckles that line under his eyes and the how the scarring on his face looks… intentional and less accidental. “Thank you, though.” 

His eyes linger on yours before he steps back to the other side of the counter, “Just didn’t want you to sue me for attempted assault or something.” He grumbles quietly while he slides a book across the counter. 

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you, “As if I’d even have the money for a lawyer. I got robbed last week and just had to deal with it—the perks of living in Gotham with cheap rent.” You notice the furrow of his brow, but he doesn’t say anything else as you scan the book. “That’ll be 14.87.” 

He hands you a twenty dollar bill, and you work on grabbing his change from the register, “Y’know I always see you in here, and yet I’ve never caught your name.” You fidget slightly with the money hoping your attempt to get to know the man who’s stolen your attention doesn’t leave you completely and utterly embarrassed. 

“Jason.”

“Well, it’s nice to officially meet you, Jason.” You smile handing him the book and his change back, your fingers brushing ever so slightly. How you wish you could hold that moment for longer than a second. 

“You too.” He says as his gaze lingers on your face for a second longer, before he turns and walks out of the store with his book.  

You find an unusual routine with Jason quickly after that. Not quite friends, but not just an employee and customer anymore. He comes in more often now, somehow always whenever you have your break for the day, which you now spend with him on the couches in the back of the store. Some days you fill the silence—well, you talk and he listens while asking follow up questions—and others you just sit on the couch while he reads and you eat a pastry from the bakery.

Today, you glance at the clock for what feels like the hundredth time, your foot tapping anxiously as you check out one of the few customers in the store right now. None of these customers are the one you’ve been seeking out everyday now. He should’ve been here 15 minutes ago. He’s always here. 

You regret not asking for his number sooner, because you can’t even text him to see if he’s okay. Another 20 minutes pass before you’ve finally given up hope of him showing up at all. While you walk to the break room, you choose to push away the negative thoughts looming in your mind and assume he had a last minute priority.

You quickly lose that optimistic hope that it was just an emergency after a week of him not showing up at all. You didn’t realize how much you’ve grown to find comfort in his company until he stopped his regular appearance. Now, every time someone walks in, a small part of you hopes the scent of leather and citrus will envelope your scenes, and every time, your shoulders slump. 

“Quit staring at the door like a sad puppy waiting for their owner.”

You glance over at Maggie feeling more defensive about that statement than you should. “I don’t look like a sad puppy.” You grumble back at her.

She rolls her eyes at you. “You’re not fooling anyone. We all know you’re waiting for that quiet boy with the white patch in his hair.”

“And so what if I am?”

“Your sadness is scaring the customers.”

“I don’t think thats how that works.“

“Semantics. Go organize the shelves so you aren’t looking so miserable waiting for him to show.”

You decide not to argue with her considering you don’t think she’s ever lost an argument before and push off your stool, walking toward the non-fiction area to rearrange the books. 

You get lost in the motions of organizing the entire store, but at least you’re doing something and not anxiously waiting for a familiar voice to call your name. You get so caught up you don’t even realize you’re ten minutes past your shift. Walking to the back to grab your purse, you pass the window and see unexpected rain covering the sidewalk. “Great,” you whisper to yourself. 

Stepping outside without an umbrella or a car to drive home, you’re simply getting attacked by the harsh rain pelting your face. You have to get home somehow, so you trudge along the sidewalk praying you don’t catch a cold from the weather. 

Not even 5 minutes into the walk, a distorted almost robotic voice cuts through the sound of the rain. “Are you trying to make yourself sick?” 

You turn around coming face to face with none other than the Red Hood. Oh my god. He’s much more intimidating in person, and logically you know you didn’t do anything criminal, but your hands unconsciously find their way up to show you have no weapon and don’t mean harm. 

“I swear, I didn’t do anything.”

“I never said you did.”

“…Then why are you here?”

“Because you’re walking home in the pouring rain at nine o’clock at night in Gotham City.” He glances at each empty hand you’re still holding up, “and very willing to admit you’re defenseless.“

You quickly bring your hands back to your sides and pull your coat closer around yourself, even though it’s soaked through and isn’t doing anything at this point. “Isn’t there crime for you to worry about?” 

“Not right now, no. I’m concerned about your health and safety.”

“Why?” The closest you’ve come to meeting a vigilante was that time you saw a flash of Red Robin patrolling the city from a nearby roof on your walk home… or it was a flock of birds, but still, you choose to believe the former. “You don’t even know me.”

He doesn’t answer and instead takes off his own rain-soaked leather jacket and steps closer to wrap it around your shoulders, before starting in the direction you were walking. ...Okay? You jog a bit to catch up with him till you’re walking side by side. 

“So… what’s it like being a crime fighting vigilante?” 

His red mask tilts to glance down at you before looking back ahead. It’s quiet for long enough that you think he just won’t respond until finally, “It’s brutal.” 

You hum and pull the leather jacket closer around yourself as you decide to stay quiet the rest of the walk, only muttering directions. Not a big talker, this guy.

It takes ten minutes before you finally arrive at your rundown apartment where both of you are standing under the awning to shield from the rain. You slip the jacket off handing it back to him and watch as he just holds it in his arms. 

“Are you cold? I could make you some hot chocolate as a thank you for walking me.” 

Once again he just stares at me through the eyes of his mask before responding, “I’m fine.”

You nod and turn toward the door unlocking it, but you don’t open it just yet. You spin back around and Red Hood is still standing unmoving, like his job isn’t done properly until he sees me inside. “Actually, I—I have this… friend and he usually shows up to the bookstore on certain days but hasn’t in over a week now and I’m getting worried. If you could maybe just keep an eye out, his name is Jason Todd.”

You watch his back straighten ever so slightly, and his head tilt a little. “A friend?”

“Well.. I don’t know what he’d classify it as, but I’d like to think so. I just miss him being there and I’d really like to make sure he’s safe. I also finally read the book he recommended me, and have annotations to give him so…” You trail off as you realize you’re rambling about your pathetic love life with a man who ghosted you in real life to someone who probably gets stabbed ten times a day. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to ramble, I just care about him.”

He hums quietly. “Sounds like he has some groveling to do for making you worry,” He says, “But, I’m sure he’ll show up for you soon.” He sounds almost… shy when he says that. 

“How can you be sure?”

His answer is definite this time. “He will.” 

A/N: so... i honestly didn't think my fic would really be seen, but it was and it encouraged me to finish a work i only did the first half of a while back. THANK YOU for the support on my first post!! <3

[ems-typewriter]

Snapping Into Place

pairing: jason todd x college student!reader

summary: with the stress of exams, reader snaps under the pressure at their boyfriend and now has to find him and apologize

word count: 2.4k

warnings/tags: sfw, fem!reader, established relationship, mention of weapon (once), hurt/comfort, use of pet names, no y/n, mention of reader failing to take care of themself, cursing

With exams being this week and how you do on them could be the difference between passing or failing, the library has become not even a second home, but a first. You’ve ate, slept, and cried in this place more this past week than you have your apartment. After awkwardly waiting for the students who overstayed their time for the study room you booked to leave, you’ve been in the flow going back and forth between paper notes, the whiteboard, your laptop, and taking a five minute break to stare at the wall every hour. No matter how much you go over your material, you cant help but feel like you’re gonna fail the exam. 

Staring at your laptop till the words blur together trying to figure out how to do what your professor claimed “a simple question,” a quiet buzzing pulls you out of your haze. You blink a few times, before glancing at your phone and see Jasons familiar contact crossing your screen, pulling a small smile to your face. Grabbing your phone and clicking accept, you bring it to your ear. 

“Hi, baby,” you say, not realizing how strained your voice sounds from not using it. “What’s up?”

“Thought you were gonna be home at 9:00?” 

Your brows furrow, “…I am?” You bring your hand to cover your forehead, which you’re now realizing how bad the pain behind your skull is getting.

“Do you realize it’s 9:45?” He asks, his voice laced with the faint concern that he reserves for few people.

You immediately turn your head to your clock and sure enough, you watch the 45 change to a 46. Shit. Somehow that alone makes your headache start to pulse. “No, I didn’t realize that actually.” I sigh quietly. “I still gotta finish this up though, I don’t feel confident on the material.”

“If you don’t know it now you won’t know it in the next hour. You’ve been there since noon. You need sleep and real food, which I know you haven’t had either.” 

“I gotta try Jay, if I don’t and I fail, then I’ll know there was something else I could’ve done—“

He cuts you off, “I know you wanna keep going, but you’ve been working for the past week and barely taking care of yourself. Just—just come home,” He pauses, “Please.”

“I can’t. I don’t know this stuff and my test is at eight in the morning, so I cant study before and I need to keep going.”

“Baby—“

This time you cut him off not even realizing your voice has pulled a harsher tone you almost never use, “No Jason. Don’t act like you understand what this is like. You don’t understand this feeling and you never will, so just stop.” You’re in such a haze, you don’t realize how harsh your words are until the beeping of the ended call breaks the silence. 

“Fuck,” You cover your face with your hands and take a breath, “Fuck, why did you say that?” You don’t even think as you start packing everything back into your bag, guilt pushing you through the actions. Jason and you never fight. Even through your frustrations, it’s easy to bridge the gap because he’s scared to snap at you and lose you and you’re scared to say something that hurts him—but you just did. 

You try to call him again, but it goes to voicemail, so you try your hopes with that. “I'm sorry, Jay. I—I’m stressed and didn’t realize what I was saying I just—please just call me back.” Deep down you know he won’t listen to it, but you still gave it a shot. 

With a newfound motivation you didn’t have while studying, and two peach Alani’s running in your body, you get into the car and drive home as fast as you can. It doesn’t take long before you’re hauling your backpack with you to your shared apartment with Jason. You know he doesn’t have patrol right now because he intentionally switched shifts with Dick so he could stay with you tonight. You didn’t even ask him, he just did it because he knew you’d be anxious and you always slept better when he was in bed with you. As you walk through the apartment though, you quickly realize he’s not there. 

You swing open the closet, expecting to see the familiar gear, but it’s gone. The realization is like a punch to the gut. I upset him so much, he’d rather fight crime instead of be with me. 

What if I ruined everything?

Am I supposed to just wait till he comes back? 

What if he doesn’t come back?

No. Don’t go down that rabbit hole. You can fix this, you just have to find him first. You walk back to the kitchen where you threw your phone on the counter and go through your contacts till you find who you were looking for, putting your phone on speaker as you put on your coat. 

“Hello?” Barbara’s familiar voice cuts through the static. 

“Hey, Babs. I have a favor I need to ask,” you say feeling very thankful for the fact Wayne family dinners include non-family members and you got to connect with everyone—including the one and only Barbara Gordon. 

“Like civilian help, or ‘I just killed someone and need to hide the body help’?

Silence crosses the phone for a second until you speak again, “Just wanted to know if you could track Jay’s suit, but thats mildly concerning thats your first assumption about me calling.”

“You’re dating into the Wayne family. It’s not a concerning assumption.” She says bluntly before quickly changing the subject, “Anyways, Jason isn’t on patrol, he switched with Dick.”

“No, I know, but I think he went back onto patrol. Could you check just incase? Please?” 

You hear faint typing on the other end as you step outside, locking the door. “Uh, yeah okay he is on patrol. He’s currently in Crime Alley.”

Just my fucking luck. You have to try though, because you won’t let this anger fester between you and him. “Okay thanks Babs, I owe you one.” You say as you start the direction to crime alley with just your phone on you. You think maybe you should’ve grabbed your pepper spray, but you’re on a mission and can’t get distracted. You’ll deal with Jasons lecture about that later. 

Babs calls your name through the phone just as you’re about to hang up, making you pause. “Please don’t tell me you’re gonna go to crime alley.”

“…Im not gonna go to Crime Alley.” You mutter into the phone, but you roll your eyes at how obvious the lie sounds.

“Im serious. Its not saf—“

“Gotta go Babs, bad connection,” You make a fake static noise, “Bye!” Pressing the end call button quickly because you cant be talked out of this. You have a relationship to fix.

The walk there is cold and quiet considering it’s now 10:30 at night and prime time for crime in Gotham. You shove your hands in your pockets to protect them from the harsh winds before remembering all the times Jason would reprimand you on not doing that when you’re walking alone because it can make you a more susceptible target. You keep scanning the rooftops waiting to see the familiar red, but still nothing.

Maybe he moved and went to another area to patrol? Or maybe Barbara told him you were coming and he left so he wouldn’t have to see you? No. Jason wouldn’t do that to you. He loves you even if you snapped at him. You keep walking around the area for 10 minutes and with every breath you watch rise into the night air, you lose more and more hope you’re gonna find him. 

Just as you’re about to make the loop to leave and go back home dejected and filled with guilt, a hand wraps around your bicep pulling you into a darkened alleyway, hidden from possible onlookers. Your brain stalls for a second as you try to process the reality of what’s happening: you’re gonna get robbed, except the only thing you have on you is your phone and the two nickels in your jacket pocket you’ve been fidgeting with on the walk here. Your back is pressed into the alley wall, and before you get the chance to try the minimal self defense Jason taught you, his mask comes into view. 

“What on earth are you doing here? Do you even have any weapon on you? You’re lucky Babs warned me you were coming or you would’ve gotten yourself killed.” You can’t see his face, but his tone eludes to his anger—whether from the phone call or you coming here, you’re not sure yet. 

“You weren’t home.” His grip on your arm isn’t harsh, never with you, but it’s firm enough to keep you from moving from the wall. 

“So what? You walk into the most dangerous part of Gotham to check on me?” He gives you a once over looking from you face to your shoes of choice for this walk. “And did so completely defenseless.”

“Im not defenseless—“ you start, but quickly stop when he tilts his head and cuts you off.

“You barely have the proper coat on, so don’t even start.” 

You huff quietly and drop your head to stare at your shoes, but decide not to push. You’re here to apologize not make things worse between y’all. Neither of you say anything because now that you’re here, everything you practiced to say leaves your head and now you drowning in shame. “You weren’t answering my calls.” You whisper before finally looking back up at him. You wish you could see his face—the familiar furrow of his brow or the scar on his cheek. Anything to know what he’s feeling right now. But he’s keeping his mask on. 

“I was busy.” His voice is low, almost like it’s painful to talk. 

“You weren’t supposed to be though. You were supposed to be home and you weren’t and I wanted to talk to you—apologize to you but I couldn’t because you left.”

“Thought you’d be studying all night. Didn’t want interrupt what I don’t understand.” He throws your words right back in your face, but he might as well taken his knife and shoved it into your side. 

You lift your hand slowly, like you’re reaching for a skittish animal, for where you’ve learned the mechanic is to take off his helmet. When he doesn’t pull away, you carefully click the button so you can see his face. He’s staring down at you with a small frown on his lips that you wish to kiss away. His eyes shine with agony and you want to worship him till he forgets the concept of pain. “I’m sorry,” You whisper as you cover the jagged J scar on his cheek with your palm. “I’m so unbelievably sorry Jay.”

He doesn’t say anything, but instead grabs your wrist gently. You worry he’s gonna push it away, but he holds on and presses your hand closer, so you continue. “I—I was just so stressed and scared. I’m so scared of failing, but it was wrong to say you wouldn’t understand when you’re the person who understands best. You choose to protect the city—the people—and I know you’re scared to fail—To fail the city, the people, …your family.” You bring your other hand to run through his curls and watch as his eyes fall shut in this moment of whispered apologies. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you or taken my anger out on you Jay. I’m sorry.”

He drops his forehead against yours and pulls you flush against him. “You, too.” He whispers against your lips, so closely you feel his breath fan across your face.

“What?”

“I’m scared of failing you, too.”

“Jay…” 

“I don’t want to just sit there and watch while you run yourself dry for a stupid exam you’re gonna pass if I can do something about it. I just can’t let it happen, I cant.” He pulls back to look at you, but it feels as if he staring into your soul. 

You nod carefully, “I’m sorry.” You mutter again and bite your lip with the unconscious intent of picking at the chapped skin, but he quickly runs his thumb across your bottom lip and the pulls it back from your teeth to stop your habit. 

“Stop apologizing. Just don’t snap at me like that again when I’m only looking out for you.”

“But I am sor—“ 

He mutters your name, stopping your repeated apology. “I know you are. Just promise me you won’t.”

Your eyes fill with tears but you blink rapidly trying to get them to disappear, because you shouldn’t be the one upset right now, he should. However, you can’t stop the singular hot tear that slips down your cheek because how did you have get so lucky to have someone who truly cares about you and understands that you truly didn’t mean what you said in the heat of the moment. “Pinky promise,” you whisper not fully trusting your voice to stay steady. You lift your pinky for him to take, something you’ve slowly acclimated him to over the course of the relationship. His gloved finger links with yours and you kiss your thumb, him following suit, and then press them together to lock it. 

He leans down and kisses away the tear that lingers on your cheek before gently kissing your lips. You immediately turn into putty in his hold not even realizing how tense you were from the idea he wasn’t going to want to hear you out. You wrap both your arms around his neck, and shove every lingering apology into the kiss, hoping he understands how deeply sorry you are. He almost reluctantly pulls away, and murmurs quietly against your lips, “And don’t walk around at night defenseless again, baby.” 

You laugh before pulling him impossibly closer, now trying to steal some of his warmth. “I’m never defenseless because I know you’ll always be there to save me,” you whisper before kissing the corner of his mouth gently, “Now let’s go get some Bat Burger and go home.” 

A/N: my first fic ever so im sorry it's bad. i really only wrote it to get it off my mind, and figure id put it out there because why not? :) and yes the inspiration did come from the fact i have exams and im insanely nervous