a senior moment perhaps

k; keep forgetting im not 22 anymore

[ficsirec]

hi

hi my name is k, im in my 20s, and i made this blog to support writers on tumblr!

everyone should support their local writers, artists, and the environment in general <3

you should NOT support AI, plagiarism, and haters

there will be 18+ content so MDNI or i will call the police!

taglist

[lushberrys]

risk masterlist

[a jason todd bodyguard au]

jason todd x senator's daughter reader

content warnings: no red hood/batman au, no use of y/n, use of pet names (princess derogatory), swearing, violence, kidnapping, use of guns

chapter one: princess protection program

word count: 1.1k

in light of new threats looming over your father - new jersey's most hated senator turned presidential candidate - you're appointed a new bodyguard

chapter two: interview with a ghost

word count: 2.2k

jason gives you the rundown of his job, but despite your complaints and protests it doesn't change the fact that he's here for the unforeseeable future. accepting your fate, you try to get to know him - it's easier to pull teeth

chapter three: house areest

word count: 2.8k

you and jason butt heads after being cooped up for too long. you "break out of prison" and head for the club

chapter four; word count:

chapter five; word count:

chapter six; word count:

[notyournoma]

[ems-typewriter]

Asking Them To Pick You Up While You're Drunk

includes: dick grayson, jason todd, tim drake

summary: you get drunk while out with friends and call your boyfriend to pick you up from the bar

word count: dick - 0.9k, jason - 1.0k tim - 1.0k

warnings/tags: sfw, fem!reader, established relationship, cursing, reader is drinking, mention of stalker tim, fluff, comfort, use of pet names, no y/n

dick grayson

Saying yes to go out to the club with your friends seemed like a good idea at the time. You’d been working back to back shifts this past week—even staying longer when your manager asked you to—and when your friends asked if you wanted to hit the bar with them, it seemed like the perfect way to let loose. 

You’d taken over an hour getting ready to meet your friends at the club, the excitement building with each song you were playing from a “going out” playlist you found on spotify. The Uber had dropped you off outside the bar only a couple minutes late and when you found your friends, you immediately ordered a drink and were pulled to the dancefloor. 

Now, sitting at a booth y’all were able to grab after a group of guys abandoned it, you regret ever agreeing to tonight. The music is too loud, you’re already forming a headache, and there's too many people. You think you were on your fifth—no, definitely sixth drink, slumped against your friend's shoulder as they talk about the promising dates she’s been going on. You nod and hum along with her stories, but you're barely hanging onto consciousness. 

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” You announce to them when there's a break in the conversation.

“Do you want us to come with you?”

“No, it's okay, I'll be quick.” Reaching for your small bag, you leave the booth, pushing through the crowd of people at the bar till you reach the restrooms. Thankfully, there's one stall unoccupied, so you lock yourself in there before fumbling with your purse to get your phone, carefully not touching anything in the bathroom. You pull up the familiar contact name and press call before you can second guess your decision. 

“Baby? Is everything okay?” 

“Dickie!” Just hearing his voice made the smile on your face go drunkenly wide. “No, everything's not alright.”   

“What happened?” The anxiety in his tone is evident through your drunken haze.

“Nothing bad,” You assure as the alcohol coursing through you sends another wave of exhaustion, causing you to yawn dramatically. “I’m just really tired and the bar is super loud and I wanna be in your arms right now.”  

You can hear the smile in his tone as he asks, “Is that right?” 

“Mhm!”

“How much did you drink, pretty girl?”

“Hmm. Definitely six drinks,” you think for a second, “or maybe it was seven?”

“So enough to make you a little sleepy?” 

“Ultra sleepy.” Dick has learned from past scenarios of you falling asleep in unconventional spaces that alcohol makes you very tired. 

“How about I come pick you up, baby?” 

“Yes, please.” You fiddle with the strap on your purse as you look around the cramped stall. “Would it be okay if you came inside and told my friends you were taking me home?” 

“You want me to be the bad guy, huh?”

“No! I just don’t want them to think I'm abandoning girls night out to go sleep with my boyfriend.” 

“Baby, they won't think that. They love you and also know you're a sleepy drunk.”

“Please?” 

He sighs but relents, “I’ll be there in ten.”

“Thank you, Dickie! I love you and drive safely.” You end the call with an overdramatic kiss through the phone. The moment you leave the stall, it's filled by another girl who has been waiting in the now five person long line. 

Pushing back through the bodies of people to make it back to your friends, you fill your spot and reenter the conversation, just biding your time till Dick gets here and you can be cuddled in bed. 

You grab your phone, going to check the time again, but don’t have the chance to even turn it on before a familiar voice cuts through the chatter of the bar. 

“Hi, baby.” He leans down, pressing a kiss to your slightly tangled hair, before looking at your friends, “Ladies. I think I’m gonna be taking sleeping beauty off your hands for the night.” 

A chorus of boos follow his statement, but nobody truly declines because they all see the sleep tugging at your eyes. Dick takes your purse from you as you say your goodbyes to each of your friends, and when you’re done you stand, holding onto Dicks arm, as he guides you out of the bar and back into the stifling humidity of Bludhaven. 

“I had to park a few streets down.” He looks down at your choice of shoes for the night. “Do you think you’ll be able to walk the whole way or do you want me to carry you?”

You don't even think about your answer. “Carry, please,” you say with a soft smile tugging at your lips. 

He bends down for you to hop onto his back—which you unceremoniously do—and wordlessly starts walking you both to his car. You keep your head leaning against his shoulder and even as he jostles you around with each step he takes, you feel yourself falling further into unconsciousness. “Hey, don't fall asleep on me yet, sleepy girl.”

“M’not.” Lie.

You pinch yourself to stay awake the rest of the walk, and when you're finally at his car, he helps you into the passenger seat. He makes sure you're secure before jogging around the front of the car and hopping into the driver side.

“Thank you for picking me up, baby.”

“You’re welcome.” Your eyes grow heavy as you settle into the leather of his seat. 

“I love you so much.” 

“I love y—” You fall asleep before you ever get to hear his response.  

jason todd

You weren’t even in the bathroom for ten minutes, but when you came back to the spot your friends said they’d stay, they were gone. Not just gone from the spot, but after doing a search of the whole bar and even giving the bartender the name they were using for their tab—which he told you closed about five minutes ago—you’d come to the conclusion you have been left at the bar. 

Whether it was drunken negligence or a purposeful abandonment, you weren’t sure considering the amount of alcohol each of you has consumed tonight. You don't even bother to text them and instead try to order an uber, but apparently it's a busy night in Gotham since no rides are available. You instead make your way out to hail a taxi. The cool air is a nice reprieve from the body heat of the bar and you soak it in while trying not to look completely vulnerable as you stumble to the end of the sidewalk waiting for a familiar yellow car to drive by. 

You stood there for ten minutes, but not a single taxi ever passed you. Your anxiety about standing there drunk and alone grows, and you decide you can’t wait for the luck of a taxi passing by anymore.

You grab your phone and pull up Jason's contact, thumb hovering over the call button. You know he's on patrol right now and you really don't want to distract him, but this feels like an emergency, and he does always tell you he’ll answer your calls no matter how busy he is. 

You give in, pressing the call button and bringing the phone to your ear as you let gravity take over and pull you to sit on the curb. You make it to the third ring before his voice takes over. 

“What’s up, honey?

You aren’t sure if it’s the comfort his voice brings you or the alcohol coursing through your system, but hot tears start cascading down your cheeks as a broken sob falls from your lips.

“Woah, fuck, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” 

“They left me and apparently Gotham is shortstaffed on drivers and I’m too scared to walk home like this,” you say through a broken cry. 

There’s a strain in his voice as he asks, “Where are you right now?”

“The bar,” you sniffle loudly trying to pull yourself together, “The one near the sandwich place we like.”

“I’ll be there in five.” He hangs up before you even get to say goodbye and you’re left sorting through the rocks on the sidewalk while you wait for him. 

True to his word, his bike comes to a stop right in front of you, exactly five minutes later. He’s quick to park it in a completely illegal spot before sliding off and making his way toward you. You keep your head down as he crouches in front of you, rests his helmet next to you, as takes in your now ruined makeup.

“What happened, baby?” His voice is soft as he gently lifts his hand to cradle your jaw and tilt your head so you’re looking back at him..

“I went to the bathroom, but when I came back all my friends were gone,” His eyes narrow at that, but he doesn't interrupt you from telling him the rest. “The bartender told me they closed their tab and I checked the whole bar for them. Gone. I tried to get an Uber or a taxi, but there's nothing available over here.”

He carefully wipes the tears and smeared mascara lining your cheeks. “I never liked those girls anyways.”

“You didn’t?”

“They didn’t appreciate you and you deserve friends who cherish you for the remarkable person you are.” You don’t say anything, but instead, lean forward so your forehead is pressed against his chest. 

“You wanna get home?”

You nod.

He pressed a kiss to your hair before pulling you off of him. “Gotta get the helmet on you.” He grabs his helmet—since he didn’t have time to stop and grab the one he bought you a while back—and meticulously slides it onto your head, being careful not to snag on your hair or ears. Once it's fully on he takes off his leather jacket and helps you into that as well. It's the most protection he can offer you, since your club outfit is the exact opposite of what he lets you wear on his bike. 

“M’tired,” your voice comes out muffled through the helmet, but he still understands what you said. 

“I know, sweet girl. Let's get you home and into bed.” 

He guides you over to his bike, not letting you drunkenly stumble over something, and helps you onto the bike before taking his seat. He doesn’t drive fast, knowing you’d likely throw up from the motion right now, and instead stays in one lane while driving slightly under the speed limit. 

Fifteen minutes later, the bike is parked and he’s opening the door to your shared apartment and guiding you to the bedroom. You fall backward on the bed, uncaring of anything else at the moment, but quickly get pulled back upward, much to your dismay. 

“Gotta get you out of your clothes and into pajamas.” Jason kneels before you, trusting you to sit up right as he makes quick work of the shoes you wore. He does the same with the clothes you were wearing, while you lay there being of little help to him, before finding one of his shirts that he slides over you so you’re comfortable. 

He walks to the bathroom, and you lay back down onto the bed ignoring the sounds of drawers and cabinets opening and closing. The bed dips under Jason's weight as he sits back down and whispers, “You can go to bed, baby. I’m just gonna take off your makeup.” 

You nod, already feeling yourself falling into unconsciousness. You faintly feel the press of a kiss to your nose before you fall asleep on your way to a hangover the next morning.

tim drake

Maybe you shouldn’t have ordered another shot, but it was your friend's 21st birthday, what else were you supposed to do? You all had been at the club for the past two hours, and to say you  all were drunk would be putting it politely. 

You all were standing at the bar waiting for what you claimed to be the last drink of the night, but that statement had been thrown around multiple times all night and you’re still ordering. You’re each presented with a shot in front of you and before you all down them, you lift the glass into the air. “To turning twenty one!” 

The cheer is echoed amongst your friends before hitting the table with the glass and downing the contents. It goes down with a familiar burn that makes your spine shiver slightly. Your friend points out an open high top table, and you all start making your way through the throngs of people to get there. 

The world is spinning only slightly, but enough to cause you to stumble on nothing, and trip onto the stranger in front of you. Like a domino effect, you fall onto the ground causing them to stumble backward and lose grip of their drink where it falls all over you. You stand up from the floor feeling the sticky residue—of what you pray is just spilled alcohol—on your hands from where you caught yourself, while the spilled drink runs down your back and clings to the ends of your hair. 

You blurt out an apology to the person you bumped into, not waiting for a response, you book it to the bathroom to wash your hands. The bathroom is cramped as you step inside but you pay no mind to anyone else, just turning on the water and pumping as much soap as you can onto your hands. You wash your hands for two minutes before you feel satisfied that you got the germs from the floor off, and as you dry your hands, your phone starts buzzing in your pocket. 

You assume it's one of your friends asking where you disappeared off to, so without checking the name you answer and put your phone to your ear. 

“I think you should be done drinking for the night.” 

Your eyes widen at the sound of your boyfriend's voice and not your friends. “Timmy!” There's an evident slur in your words, “What are you talking about?” 

“I saw you fall.” 

Your brows furrow. “How would you have seen that?” 

“The cameras,” he says, like it was obvious. 

“You hacked the cameras?” You say it a little louder than intended, catching a couple odd looks from the other people in the restroom. You slip out of the bathroom, but stay in the quieter hallway to avoid more odd glances.

“Well, yeah. You were going out and you know your safety is my number one priority, so I was simply ensuring that you were safe.” 

“So what? You’ve just had the security feed up on another monitor while you’ve been working?”

“Yes.” 

“You’re such a stalker, Tim,” you say but there's a smile on your face from knowing that he’s always looking out for you even when not together. 

“You told me you were okay with it when I brought it up a few months ago,” he sounds slightly anxious now, worried he's crossed a boundary, “Are you not okay with it anymore?”

“No, no Tim, it's okay.” You let out a small breath as you sit on the small bench in the hall, “If anything you’re right. I'm covered in alcohol now and I’m too drunk to walk at this point.” 

“I can come pick you up.”

“You’re busy, I can just call an Uber.”

“I can take a break,” he says quickly. “Please, let me come make sure you get home safely, love.” 

“If this is all it takes for you to willingly take a break, then I should do this more often.” 

You can almost hear his eyeroll through the phone. “I’ll be there soon, just be careful when leaving the hall and going back to your friends.”

You look around before your gaze focuses on camera in the corner. “Are you still watching me?” 

“Mhm.”

You blow him a kiss through the camera as you say goodbye and hangup. You carefully bring yourself back up to walk through the crowds back toward your friends. You explain to them what had happened, only twisting the story slightly to make it seem like you called Tim instead and he wasn’t watching you all night through the security feed. 

About ten minutes later, you get a text from Tim saying he's outside. You say your goodbyes and stumble out, finding his car parked right in front of the bar, with him standing at the entrance to help you. 

“Timmy!” You throw your arms around him, relying on him to catch you before you send both of you tumbling—which he does. 

“Hi, love.” He smiles down at you, “Are you ready to go home?” 

You nod dramatically and let him help you into the passenger seat and buckle you in before rounding the car and driving you back to the apartment. Once you pull into the apartment, you're bounding out of the car ready to get rid of the alcohol smell that is clinging to your hair and clothes. 

Tim catches up quickly, opening the door for you, and following you to the bathroom. “Do you need help getting a bath?” 

You look over at him and fall back into his arms. “My boyfriend, always looking out for me and making sure I’m safe.” 

He laughs, but keeps his arms around your waist and lets his head drop to bury into the crook of your neck. “Always. There's nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” 

You pull back just enough to plant kisses that cover his face in your lip combo. “I love you,” you say after placing the final kiss on his lips. 

He smiles down at you, his eyes watching your every move. “I love you too,” he whispers, “But you smell really bad. So bath first and then we can cuddle, okay?” 

That's all the motivation you need to start shedding your clothes while he turns on the water, adjusting it so it's not too hot or cold for you.

authors note: i tried to include different like types of drunk and i hope i did okay!! i also had an idea about basing a fic on every song of "you seem so sad for a girl so in love" so let me know what y'all think about that idea!!

[hagihino]

[kosmogrl]

[frazzled-soul]

I have a fic idea. It’s one where you’re cuddling RE9 Leon in bed, and you’re telling him how much you love him, with some kisses here and there. The poor man is so hard on himself, he needs someone to tell him how lovable and sweet he is since he clearly can’t see it.

A/N: Thank you so much for this wonderful request! And at the same time, please forgive me for taking so long, but unfortunately, there just haven't been enough hours in the day lately >_>

Summary: When Leon comes back from a rough mission stuck in his own head, you remind him exactly how much he means to you with a little help from a forgotten treat hidden under the pillow.

Not on My Watch

You stood in the middle of the bedroom, staring at the perfectly made bed and the equally meticulously arranged pillows. Behind the wall, the hum of water – which had been ringing regularly in your ears for the past good hour – finally ceased. Leon had recently returned from a mission and insisted on showering alone, claiming he had been swimming in "substances of unknown origin." You knew, however, that it was just an excuse. You knew this pattern by heart. You had only made sure he wasn't seriously injured before letting him off to the bathroom.

Returns from missions varied; sometimes Leon came back incredibly homesick, never leaving your side, sometimes he returned so turned on that you couldn't even make it to the bedroom, other times he could barely stand on his feet from exhaustion or from the wounds he had sustained. This time – Leon was simply sad.

You walked over to the bed and adjusted the pillows that didn't need any adjusting, then sat cross-legged on the mattress and took a few deep breaths. You tried not to look worried, knowing that Leon would only pick up on your state. You didn't want to pry more than necessary, but you were ready to find out what was on his mind. After all, that's what he had you for.

Finally, the bedroom door creaked and Leon slipped inside, wearing black boxers and a grey t-shirt. As he sat on the edge of the bed on your side, the scent of body wash washed over you, along with a note you could never mistake for anything else – simply Leon.

You looked at him closely. His shirt was damp in places, meaning he hadn't dried himself thoroughly; his hair confirmed it too, damp and disheveled, with a droplet of water preparing to leap from the tip of his bangs. Leon reached out and placed his hand on your knee, squeezing it. But he didn't look at you. He was slouching incredibly, staring blankly at the rug.

You placed your hand over his – large, warm, and heavy – noting:

"Leon, you broke the rule," you said softly, forcing your tone to sound gentle and neutral despite everything.

Leon flinched minimally, then slowly turned his head toward you, his exhausted gaze piercing right through you instantly. Only a quiet grunt escaped his throat.

"Didn't break it."

In response, you expressively folded your arms over your chest and tilted your chin up.

"The shirt. Just like we agreed. Take it off," you replied possessively, in a tone that brooked no argument.

This was part of your routine whenever Leon insisted on "solitary showers" – he wasn't supposed to put on shirts until you had looked him over carefully, as he had tried to hide some nasty gashes before. Not on your watch.

Leon sighed and – knowing he wouldn't win – pulled his shirt off with a slightly heavy movement, while you expressively patted the spot next to you, letting him know to sit further back on the bed, which he did, scrambling over and sitting with his back to you.

"I'm telling you, I'm fine, sweetheart."

You moved right behind him to take a look with your own eyes. His broad back, still slightly damp, was covered in the scars you knew so well, and between them, various bruises and scrapes were beginning to form, along with a few minor cuts, but luckily nothing serious.

The only thing that worried you was a massive, purple-and-yellow bruise just beneath his ribs. Carefully, you pressed your warm palms against his sides, checking if he’d hiss in pain under tighter pressure. Fortunately, he only winced, reacting solely to your touch.

So you got up and settled yourself in front, right in his lap. Your hands landed on his well-defined abs, then gently slid higher up to his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his skin flex instantly as he let out a breath through his nose. His hands instinctively found your hips and squeezed you lightly.

"I missed you so much," you said at last, reassured that you didn't see anything serious on the front of his body either.

"Me too, honey." Leon smiled at those words, sweeping his gaze across your face, but the smile didn't reach his eyes.

"Oh, yeah?" you began playfully. "Usually, when you miss me, you hold me a little tighter," you teased, tipping up the corner of your mouth meaningfully.

In response, however, Leon's gaze only dimmed further, then drifted to the side. He couldn't have made it clearer that something was weighing on him.

You gently caught his chin and turned his face toward you, before brushing his lips in a light kiss.

"Leon, I know I have great taste, but you don't need to study the pattern on the duvet quite so intensely," you smiled at him warmly and brushed a strand of hair out of his eye. "Tell me what's going on, or I'll tickle the information out of you by force."

"I'm not ticklish," he grumbled, clearly caught off guard.

"I guarantee you I'll find a spot," you countered resiliently, raising your hands to poke them under his armpits, but Leon intercepted them with a quick movement, catching them in his own, then pressed two kisses to the palms of your hands, one on each. And then he closed his eyes for a few long seconds; when he opened them again, he was slouching even more.

"It's just," he began, and you held your breath, "sometimes when I look in the mirror, I wonder why you even bother waiting for this. For me. Instead of having a normal evening, you have to check if I'm missing any limbs."

The tone in which he said it squeezed your heart. This wasn't the first time you had heard these words, and likely not the last. You knew that despite your sincere and frequent assurances, doubts crossed his mind regularly, most often laced with guilt and a sense of inadequacy.

You slipped your hands from his grip and placed them gently on his cheeks, caressing him with your thumbs.

"I'm waiting for the most handsome man I've ever met, who moves heaven and earth for me every single time he's around. I don't need anything more, it's worth everything, and I wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world, Leon."

The beautiful blue of his eyes, previously dull and tired, now grew slightly glassy. His face involuntarily yielded to your touch. He needed this.

"I wish I could be around more often and give you even more," his voice was just as quiet and raspy, a note of guilt sounding in every syllable.

"I get everything I need from you." your hands now moved to his shoulders, pressing your thumbs into the skin by his neck; the sheer amount of knotted muscle you felt beneath your fingers genuinely startled you.

"It's just that..."

"I need you exactly like this." You cut him off unceremoniously. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be my Leon, the one I love so much." to reinforce your words, you kissed him hard on his right cheek.

Leon stared at you in silence for a few long moments, and then, to your inner delight, you noticed the corners of his mouth twitch.

He leaned toward you and kissed your bottom lip, then pulled back to an almost imperceptible distance.

"Can't outtalk you, can I?" he murmured against your lips.

"Learning from the master," you shot back innocently, nudging his chin away with your finger so you could look him in the eyes.

And just like that, you had him; your touch and your voice were enough to – at least for a moment – distract Leon from his intrusive thoughts. You noticed him release the last of the air from his lungs, his entire body visibly going slack.

"Okay, you can put your clothes on," you finally decreed.

"Can I?" he mumbled, a half-smile blossoming on his face.

Before you could even reply, though, Leon grabbed you firmly by the waist and went down on his back, pulling you with him. He landed right on your pillow, but the moment he hit the soft fabric, a strange, crinkling rustle reached your ears.

Leon froze completely, then slowly arched an eyebrow. As you pushed yourself up, propping your hands against his chest, you could see genuine bewilderment written all over his face.

"I really hope that wasn't my spine," he grumbled, not moving an inch.

Heat rushed to your face as you remembered what you had hidden there. Instinctively, you reached under the pillow to track down the evidence, but Leon, seeing your reaction, was quicker. He anticipated your move and dove beneath the fabric, fishing out a slightly crumpled, colorful bag of gummies a moment later.

"It's just... for a rainy day," you began, blushing even deeper as Leon watched you with pure amusement.

"So these are the kind of wicked deeds going on here while I'm away..." he clicked his tongue in mock disapproval, then he rolled you to the side and propped himself up on an elbow, tearing the bag open and rummaging through its contents.

"Leon, you literally just brushed your teeth!" you pointed out, trying to deflect from what you had hoarded in the bed.

Leon merely shrugged and popped two gummies into his mouth at once. Before he even had time to chew them properly, his face contorted into a hideous grimace, he squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing the sour treats with difficulty.

"And they're sour, too?"

You laughed quietly at the sight. "My beloved agent, the bane of the most terrifying creatures, just got defeated by a fake lemon."

In response, Leon only looked at you from beneath half-lidded eyes and shoved another two into his mouth.

"They don't stand a chance against me."

"I thought you didn't like them."

"I have to make sure I don't like all of them," he grumbled, giving you a faint smirk. You joined in on the brief feast, trying to snag some for yourself as you watched the bag's contents dwindle surprisingly fast.

When you finished the "meal," you sat astride Leon's hips, mindlessly tracing patterns on his stomach with your hand. He watched you in silence for a moment before blurting out:

"Next time, I'm requesting a different flavor."

"It can be a different flavor, honey, but they're still going to be sour," you replied in an innocent little voice.

"And why is that?" Leon's gaze, though questioning at first, very quickly began to sweep over your figure.

"Because I already get enough sweetness just by looking at you, Leon."

Leon's face went completely blank with surprise in a split second.

"What is that supposed to mean?" he asked at last, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Well... that you're sweet. Cute." you mumbled shyly, unable to suppress a genuine half-smile.

Leon watched you in silence for a moment, his expression unreadable.

"Not true. I'm fierce. And dangerous," he mumbled with feigned seriousness, his eyebrows almost meeting.

"Of course you are, teddy bear. If you say so," you replied, unable to stop yourself from laughing.

"Talking back, too..."

Before you could even realize what was happening, Leon bucked his hips, causing you to lose your balance and fall forward onto him in surprise. He caught you with his hands just before his face and, locking you in a strong, tight embrace, kissed you hungrily.

Leon slammed his lips against yours so hard it knocked the wind right out of your lungs. For a fleeting second, you tasted the sour tang of the gummies again, but it quickly dissolved into the steady warmth of his breath. You could barely keep up with returning the kiss – Leon kissed you heavily and possessively, every single inch of your mouth belonged to him in that moment, and the slightest parting of your lips was enough to feel his wet tongue inviting you to dance.

His large hand gripped the nape of your neck in a powerful hold, while the other roamed from your hip to your backside, as if he needed to re-memorize every piece of your body after being away for a week. He pressed you against him so tightly that you could clearly feel the thudding of his heart.

Every time you tried to catch your breath, Leon deepened the kiss, a low hum rumbling against your lips, his vibrations instantly sending shivers through your body. You knew that in this desperation and in every movement of his mouth was everything he couldn't put into words, everything he couldn't name. You felt gratitude in it, a reassurance that you were truly here, and a promise. He sucked on your bottom lip and nipped at it gently, only to soothe the bite a moment later with a swipe of his tongue, completely taking control of the rhythm of your mouths. You surrendered to him, knowing that in this moment you didn't need anything else, that everything you needed was right there in your arms.

When Leon finally pulled his face away for a second, you were both panting heavily. You rested your forehead against his, seeing that his eyes were still closed. His fingers against your neck were trembling slightly.

Once your breathing evened out, Leon let his head fall limply back onto the pillow and looked at you from beneath half-lidded eyes.

"I missed this," he murmured softly, his voice slightly hoarse.

You leaned down and gently kissed one eyelid, then the other, forcing him to close his eyes. "Time for bed. You need to rest." With those words, you tried to untangle yourself from him to reach for the lamp and turn off the light. Leon only looked at you, opening one eye in a suspicious gesture, before reluctantly loosening his grip on you.

As soon as darkness flooded the bedroom, you immediately slid right back to Leon, pressing into his arm and the crook between his neck and collarbone. He smelled almost entirely like home now – soap, Leon, and your fresh bedding. He wrapped his arm around you instantly, pulling you to his side so tightly that you couldn't have slipped a single finger between you. You wedged your leg between his thighs and planted a kiss on his neck.

"Is my fierce chosen one comfortable?" you asked with a hint of amusement in your voice.

Leon laughed quietly under his breath and kissed the crown of your head.

"Not complaining."

You lay there in silence for a couple of minutes at most.

"Leon?" you started again.

"Yeah, sweetheart?" his voice was already incredibly low from the oncoming sleep.

"You know I love you?"

There was a moment of meaningful silence during which you actually wondered if he had fallen asleep along the way.

"Yeah, I think you mentioned something."

You couldn't help it – you cracked him in the ribs with your elbow.

"I didn't know you were already having memory issues..." you teased.

Leon only laughed throatily and turned his head to kiss you hard on the cheek, returning the gesture you had graced him with not long ago.

"I know. But unfortunately, I love you more." to confirm those words, he squeezed you even tighter, if that was even possible.

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"And are you going to argue with me about this now?" you asked, beginning to run your fingers through his rough stubble along his jawline, slowly and unhurriedly.

"Always," though you heard resolve in his voice, it was clearly growing weaker and weaker.

So you continued, running your fingertips over his cheek this time and scratching him gently. With every passing moment, you felt the tension vanish from his face, his body relaxing further. His jaw was already slack, his eyes closed, and his breathing steadier.

"You are the most important person to me, Leon. You're my lottery win," you said softly, to which you received only a quiet grunt. Leon buried his face deeper into your hair, and though his breathing was growing heavier by the second, his hold on you never wavered.

You merely reached down for the duvet you had – contrary to all logistics – overruled by lying on top of it, pulling it over your legs as much as you possibly could. You knew that in the sleep that came so quickly, Leon had surrendered himself to you, along with his nightmares and his doubts. That even though he sometimes battled his own thoughts, subconsciously he gravitated toward you, ready to give you everything with absolute trust.

And you, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your hand and his steady, slow breathing, knew that you had managed to banish his demons. And though you knew they would return one day – you would always be ready to fight them.

[hoovesnhorns]

Beautiful! 💕

[froggibus]

— Eat Your Heart Out!

Includes: Dick Grayson, Wally West, Barry Allen and Hal Jordan

Summary: during a party game, he gets flustered from kissing you :p

Content/CW -> gn! reader, abt ~500 words a part, light teasing, being flustered, the boys being menaces, making out, slightly suggestive, lmk if i forgot anything

requested by the lovely amazing @gothamorphosis

froggi yaps -> did you miss me? cause i missed you :p im back and better than ever, i got soooo much motivation to write rn, i literally wrote this in less than 2 hours. i hope you guys like it cause i had a lot of fun writing it <3

Dick Grayson:

Jason Todd shouldn’t be here. He doesn’t want to be here. And yet, he had nothing better to do and the opportunity to get Dick back for what he did to him last week was just too good.

He almost feels bad when he finishes telling Dick what his dare is and sees the horrified look on your face. He clocks it immediately—the way your mouth presses into a line, the way you’re suddenly shaking your leg, the way you can’t even look at Dick.

“That’s a stupid dare.”

You nod in agreement but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel a little disappointed. Why wouldn’t he want to make out with you?

Jason simply shrugs. “You can always choose truth if you’re feeling shy.”

It’s the way Jason says it that has your ears perking up. You risk a glance at Dick only to see him staring right at you, offering a sheepish smile. You nod, ever so slightly, the quietest signal that what he’s about to do is okay.

Dick rises to his feet and your heart jumps into your throat. You set your cup on the coffee table and match his movements, standing up on shaky legs. Your pulse picks up with every step closer to Dick and you’re painfully aware of the distance between you growing shorter and shorter.

Eyes are on you, the rest of the people in the room—Dick’s friends, mostly—watching with bated breath.

As if the universe doesn’t hate you enough in this moment, you stumble over your own feet, Dick catching you in his arms and pulling you against his chest. 

“I gotcha.”

You’re at a loss for words, everything you could possibly say right now caught in your throat. You settle under his touch, forcing yourself to take deep breaths to keep yourself cool through the moment. 

It’s Dick that hesitates. Hands on your waist and lower back, lips only inches from yours, he freezes up. Lucky for him, you don’t.

You press yourself closer to him and tilt your head back, parting your lips to meet his. You catch his bottom lips between yours, eyes fluttering shut, and let yourself move against him. Something woody lingers on his mouth, floods your senses as you kiss him.

Dick tugs you closer, beckoning you in until the space between you is nonexistent. You forget how to breathe for a second, heat crawling up your spine until it suffocates you.

You pull away, Dick grinning goofily at you. His cheeks are slightly pink, his shoulders tensed.

You open your mouth to speak, only to be cut off.

“What’s wrong, Grayson?” Jason heckles. “At a loss for words?”

You’re too busy watching Dick’s own flustered face to realize you’re completely free of any shame, the heat that was rising up your spine having dissipated into nothingness. 

“You feeling alright?” You tilt your head at Dick, a knowing grin on your face.

He shakes his head. “I think I need you to kiss me better.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes and oblige.

Wally West:

Wally’s eyes are on you. Your eyes are on the floor. Knots form in your stomach, heat crawls up your spine and you cannot bring yourself to look at the man who just spun the bottle that landed on you.

Roy Harper’s elbow digs into your side. “Hey, we don’t have all night.”

“Asshole.” You mutter.

He snickers in return, clapping a hand on your back and pushing you forwards. You stumble to your feet, eyes still on the ground, and make your way across to you to where Wally’s sitting. More eyes are on you, the eyes of your fellow teammates who absolutely know about the torch you carry for the red haired speedster.

It only sends the heat racing further through your veins. 

Five more steps to Wally. Your heart pounds in your chest, smashing so hard against your ribcage you’re sure it’ll break.

Wally leans back where he’s sitting on the floor, crossing his arms behind his head. You wish you had something to throw at him.

It was his idea to play Spin the Bottle, him who grabbed the empty Pink Whitney bottle that Kory had left laying around and set it on the floor. Him who made you sit through several rounds of this while your nerves only grew more and more. 

You’d been pleading with the universe, to any higher power that would listen, for the bottle to not land on you. But then you’d considered the possibility of having to watch Wally kiss someone else and venom had risen to your throat and then you weren’t sure whether you wanted the bottle to land on you or not.

You swallow hard and force yourself forwards, straddling Wally’s waist and sitting down on the meat of his thighs. You can feel the thick muscle through his jeans, feel it rub against your own thighs as you sit down.

Wally grins at you, cocking his head to the side, red strands falling into his face. “Don’t worry,” he winks. “I’ll be gentle.”

The heat grows unbearable. Your hands shake slightly as you raise them to cup his face. Fuck, fuck, fuck. And without another thought, you’re leaning forwards and pressing your lips onto his, snaking your hands to the back of his neck to tangle them in his hair.

Wally gasps, tongue darting out to swipe the backs of your teeth. His lips move perfectly in sync with yours, hands grasping at your hips and tugging you in closer. 

A small sound of disappointment slips from his lips when you pull away. His hands don’t leave your hips. His lips are swollen and sticky with saliva, cheeks flushed almost as red as his hair. And somehow, someway, you’re completely fine.

You poke his red cheek. “You feeling okay, Walls?”

“Don’t—don’t even,” he grumbles, fingertips digging into your skin. 

Roy claps his hands, shaking his head in disbelief.

Barry Allen:

You’re not sure why you agreed to play this stupid game. You’re not even sure who came up with the idea to play this. Given almost everyone here is either pushing thirty or well beyond it, you have no idea where seven minutes of heaven even came from.

But now, put on the spot and told to get into the old janitors closet with Barry fucking Allen of all people, you wish you’d never agreed to play. More than that, judging by the stupid smirk on Hal Jordan’s face, you wish you’d never told the stupid Lantern about the torch you carry for Barry.

Hal whistles lowly, looking between you and the speedster. “Come on now, we don’t have all day.”

You flip him the bird and shoot him a glare, a weak distraction from the knots that your stomach has been tied in. Barry’s gaze burns into your face but you can’t bring yourself to look, leaving yourself to wonder if he feels as flustered as you do right now.

You glance at the closet, the door haunting you. The sound of Barry’s Converse sneakers scuffing against the floor has your head snapping up, eyes finally meeting his. Heat immediately blooms in the pit of your stomach, crawling it’s way through each and every one of your veins.

You swallow hard and force yourself to meet his strides and walk towards the closet.

Hal, not being able to help himself as usual, grins wickedly. “You kids have fun, okay?”

Barry scoffs and mutters something under his breath that you can’t hear. You silently put a curse on the pilot, hoping even more of his hair will go grey.

The door to the closet closes, darkness falls and you find yourself pressed chest to chest with Barry Allen.

“We don’t have to kiss if you’re uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable.”

You can barely make out the frown on his face. “I can feel your heart racing,” he mumbles, and it sends a shiver up your spine.

“That doesn’t mean I’m uncomfortable.”

“Then what are you?”

You’re not sure why you do it. Maybe it’s the growing tension in this tiny dark closet, or maybe it’s to save yourself from saying something that you’ll great, but suddenly you find your lips pressed against Barry’s.

You expect him to push you away, to want to talk more. You’re not ready for the hunger he responds with, for him to push you against the wall and cup a hand behind your thigh and to graze your lips with his teeth.

It’s not awkward like how you expected it to be. It’s hot and dizzying and has butterflies erupting in your stomach. You kiss him back just as ferociously, snaking your hands up his shoulders and into his hair and tugging on it.

You—a loud knock comes at the door, Barry flinching back from you. You have just enough time to wipe some of the wetness off your mouth before Hal rips the door open and light comes streaming in.

You blink, entirely shocked by the redness of Barry’s cheeks and the complete mess you made of his hair. Hal looks just as surprised as you feel, looking between the mess you made of Barry Allen and your own perfectly composed face.

“Shit,” he says, shaking his head. “You really went for it.”

Barry shoulders past him, grabbing your hand in his. “Shut up, Hal.”

Hal Jordan:

The music blaring from the old bar speakers is almost enough to drown out the sound of Hal Jordan making the last shot in pool. The cue ball clacks against the 8 and you watch with wide eyes as it sails across the table, bounces off the side and perfectly sinks into the pocket he called.

He turns to face you with a toothy grin, pool stick still clutched in his hand. “So?”

Heat rushes to your head as you remember your earlier bet with him. If I get this ball in, he’d said, you have to kiss me like you mean it. 

It was an eye rolling comment, something you’d snorted at despite having a very strong urge to actually kiss him. Not that you’d ever tell Hal that—it would go straight to his head.

But now, faced with the smiling pilot, all messy hair and warm eyes, you kind of wish you hadn’t made that bet.

Barry smiles at you from the other side of the table, his eyes knowing. Your partner at pool, albeit not much help with how clumsy he is, is the only one who knows just how you feel about Hal Jordan. You’re not entirely convinced he didn’t throw the game on purpose just so he can finally stop hearing about Hal Jordan.

You sigh and take a step towards Hal, slowly closing the gap between the two of you. You’re a few inches away when Hal suddenly rests a hand on the small of your back and tugs you flush against him, his lips hovering mere centimetres away from yours.

The breath catches in your throat. You close the gap between you, moving your lips against his. The taste of leftover whiskey and smoke on his lips fills your mouth, the flavour an odd comfort among your racing heart and frayed nerve ends.

Hal’s hand is warm on your back, his body radiating heat through yours. You pull away and swallow away your nerves, forcing a brave smile.

“That good enough for you, Jordan?” You say and you’re entirely surprised you managed to say it without stuttering.

His cheeks are flushed, mouth slightly open as he looks at you in surprise. “I don’t—”

You laugh and Dinah Lance, propped against the counter next to Oliver, wolf whistles. 

“Cat got your tongue?” You go to take a step back only for Hal to catch your wrist. “What, do you want round 2?”

And you should know to never, ever challenge Hal Jordan, especially not when his heart is racing and the adrenaline is hitting him so clearly. Hal tugs you back into him, cupping your chin and smashing his lips back onto yours.

dc masterlist | navigation

thanks for reading & have a wonderful week /ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡

[leonsgfpost]

Synopsis: Another bad night for your man, but you know how to comfort him!

Tags: RE6!Leon x F!Reader, established relationship, smut, unprotected sex (don't do this, take care 🙏🏻), creampie, riding, pathetic men, whiny and crybaby Leon, mentions of dependence and post-traumatic stress, some angst, comfort and more!

Note: Hi!! I finally had time to finish this request from a while ago. It just wouldn't leave my head 😩 we don't talk about RE6!Leon enough, and I really need it. Pleasee ignore any mistakes and enjoy!💕💕

When you met Leon, years ago, you knew you were dealing with someone complex. You could see it in his eyes, which always concealed the seemingly endless pain in his life. When things escalated and the relationship became official, you came to know his wounds more deeply. The nightmares in the middle of the night, the cold sweat that trickled down his forehead when he remembered too much, or how there were times when all he wanted was to be with you.

You were the only thing that kept him sane. The only thing that kept him grounded. He felt guilty for wanting to merge his body with yours, for clinging to you until his last days. Could you blame him? He loved you like he'd never loved anyone or anything. The way you always took care of him when he was too depressed to get out of bed, how you washed his hair so gently, and above all, how you let him sink into you until he couldn't think of anything bad.

Tonight was one of those nights where dark thoughts clouded his judgment, and he couldn't stop the tears fall down for his face. His arms were tightly around you, his face buried between your tits as if letting go would mean the end of his life. Small, husky moans danced against your skin, muffling the occasional sob from Leon.

"You okay, baby?" you asked, trying to keep your tone sweet despite his length being buried deep inside you. You could practically feel his cock brushing against that delicious spot inside you with every movement you made on top of him.

All you got was a small nod, or maybe he was just rubbing his face against your chest like a big, old dog looking for love. He was a mess of tears and saliva, letting out long sighs of pleasure as he felt you ride him up and down, soaking him from base to tip. You went all the way down, until his swollen balls bumped against your entrance, then back up again, leaving only the dripping tip of his cock inside.

Your fingers brushed against his sweat-damp hair, pulling him close to your chest as you rode him slowly. His trembling hands roamed your back adoringly, drawing you closer with the need for there to be not an inch of distance between you. Your lips sought his, pouring all your feelings onto his trembling lips. He looked so fragile, panting into your mouth, his brows furrowed with pleasure and the need to silence the voices in his head.

"I love you, don't leave me..." He whispered, breathless. "Please, I love you so much, baby." Repeating his words with painful sincerity, he held you tighter, letting you bounce faster on him. His brain was completely melting, and long-forgotten tears slid down his rosy cheeks. He knew it was pathetic, but he couldn't help begging for more, pleading for you shamelessly.

His moans grew louder, more shaky, as his cock trembled inside your wet walls, making a loud, obscene squelching sound that echoed throughout the room. You were no better, the friction of your throbbing clit against his pelvis, lightly covered by pubic hair that created a path to his member, was driving you absolutely wild. That, and his wet, desperate kisses on your neck, were bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Look at me, please..." he begged, pulling you out of your trance. He knew you were close by the way your hot walls gripped him and the way your breathing became more frantic. "I want to see you—" he murmured, his voice hoarse with adrenaline. You opened your eyes, finding yourself confronted by a sight: his wet eyelashes fluttered quickly, his unfocused eyes showing only pure longing, and his jaw slack with pleasure. He was close too, just wanting to feel you come around his eager cock.

His hands released your hips to cup your hot face, his sweaty forehead pressed against yours to maintain eye contact. He was too busy admiring your beauty and how you crumbled around him.

Your body couldn't take it anymore, coming around his cock completely, soaking you both. Your eyes rolled back for a few seconds, feeling your walls tighten around him with spasms of pleasure. The thrusts were now slightly more frantic, wetter, helping you ride the waves of orgasm.

Leon's hips trembled helplessly beneath you, pulling your face closer to try and kiss you one last time before he came. But all he could do was groan against your mouth, breathing heavily as thick strands of hot, thick semen exploded inside you, making him forget even his own name for a second.

You moaned shakily as you felt him tremble inside you, emptying himself completely into your rubbery, sensitive walls. Your hips rubbed lazily against his, both of you panting into each other's mouths, still dazed from having come so hard. His semen, mixed with your release, began to seep from your pussy, dripping down base until it dripped onto his balls.

You leaned against his chest, and he hugged you, burying his nose in your tangled hair. His heart still pounded, trying to gather his thoughts.

"Thanks for...all." he murmured, his voice filled with the relief of being here with you. In your arms, he wasn't a tool, not an agent, he was just a man determined to love.

You were the cause of his happiness, his little paradise on earth, and he had no problem admitting it.

omg, i loove pathetic men, yummy 😋 and im so sorry I haven't been able to update often, im in the final stretch of my finals!! So i hope everyone is doing well and taking care ❤️‍🩹

All comments and likes are welcomeᡣ𐭩

(💌) bye, bye!

[moviecritc]

we loooved your vibe

dick grayson x fem!reader x koriand'r they spot you across the bar, knowing damn well what they want to do with you

cw: mdni, fingering, oral sex, face sitting

“Hey, my boyfriend and I saw you across the bar and we loooved your vibe.”

You blink at the almost 6 foot woman and her slightly shorter (but still taller than you) boyfriend. They were pretty intimidating. The woman had big curly pink hair, she was wearing the lowest waisted jeans and a green crop top. The man had this perfect messy inky hair and a plain white shirt with baggy jeans, complemented with a gold chain and two rings.

Your drink was halfway to your mouth when she said it, you almost choked.

“Excuse me?” you managed, staring up at the towering woman in front of you.

She grinned, easy and bold, one hip cocked. “I said we loved your vibe. My boyfriend and I were wondering if you’d like to join us tonight.”

Your eyes flicked between the two of them. She was all heat and curves, curls bouncing as she tilted her head at you. He was quieter, watching you with sharp blue eyes that didn’t waver.

Your pulse kicked up hard in your throat. “Wait. Are you… are you asking me what I think you’re asking me?”

The man finally spoke, voice low and smooth. “We’re asking if you’d like to come home with us.” He let the word home hang there and then offered the faintest smirk.

You put your glass down a little too quickly. “You can’t just… walk up to people and—”

“Why not?” the woman interrupted, laughing, completely unapologetic. “We’re honest. You’re gorgeous. We think you’re gorgeous. And we like to share.” She glanced back at him, brushing her fingers against his shoulder.

Heat prickled at the back of your neck, they were magnetic together even more than apart. You couldn’t stop staring at their hands, the way his ring glinted when he touched her hip, the way she leaned toward him. And now their attention was squarely on you.

The man tilted his head. “You can say no,” he said, softer now. “We don’t want to make you uncomfortable. But if you’re interested…” His eyes swept you up and down, subtle but unmistakable. “…we’d make it worth your time.”

Your mouth went dry. “You two are insane.”

“Maybe,” she said with another laugh, curls bouncing as she leaned down closer. “But you’re not walking away, are you?”

And the truth was you weren’t. You shook your head a little. “I don’t even know your names.”

Her laughter spilled out of her as she leaned back just enough to look at you properly.

“Oh, you’re right.” She pressed a hand dramatically to her chest, eyes sparkling. “Where are my manners? I’m Koriand’r.” She rolled the name on her tongue before grinning wider. “But my friends just call me Kori.”

The man beside her leaned a little closer, resting his elbow on the bar casually, but his gaze didn’t waver from you. “Dick,” he said simply, offering his hand out to you like this was the most normal introduction in the world. His palm was warm, grip steady, like he was daring you to pull away.

Your eyes flicked between them, you suppress a laugh at how surreal this was.

“Now you do,” Kory said, tilting her head, curls brushing over her shoulder. “So? What’s yours, gorgeous?”

Your lips parted, heartbeat kicking hard as you gave them your name.

Dick smiled at the sound of it while Kory repeated it under her breath, tasting it like a secret. You swallowed, suddenly very aware of the fact that they were both leaning just a little too close.

“This is insane,” you whispered.

“Or,” Kory countered with a sly grin, “it’s the best decision you’ll make all week.”

Dick could see in your eyes a flicker of doubt, you weren’t confident on going home with two strangers that have been eyeing you the whole night.

“C’mon. Let us buy you a drink.” Dick said with a tiny smile, offering his hand.

Your throat felt dry, though not from the lack of alcohol. Their combined attention was dizzying. You let out a shaky little laugh, eyes flicking between them, searching for some crack in their confidence and finding none.

“I could use a drink.” You smiled shyly, accepting his hand guiding you towards the bar. You shivered at the touch of Kory’s hand in the small of your back.

The drinks arrived, cold glasses set down in front of the three of you. Dick slid yours closer with two fingers, his rings clinking softly against the glass.

“Cheers,” he said smoothly, raising his own. Kory followed, her grin sweet but wicked at the edges.

You hesitated, but lifted yours anyway. The first sip went down sharp, heat blooming in your chest. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or the way both of them were looking at you.

Kory leaned in, elbow on the bar, curls brushing your bare arm. “You’re even prettier up close,” she murmured, eyes lingering.

You swallowed hard. “You two always pick people up in bars together?”

Dick laughed quietly. “Not always. Only when the vibe’s right.” His dark eyes found yours, daring you to look away. “And with you? The vibe’s very right.”

Kory’s hand slid just close enough to your knee that you felt the ghost of her touch. “We could stay here all night and keep talking.” Her voice dipped, teasing. “or we could take this somewhere more private.”

You blinked at her, pulse stuttering. “You mean…”

“We mean,” Dick cut in, smiling like he’d already read your thoughts. “No pressure. But you should come home with us tonight, you won’t regret it.”

Kory giggled softly, leaning in closer so her perfume wrapped around you. “And we’ll take very good care of you.”

Dick swirled what was left of his drink, eyes still fixed on you. There was a smile on his lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes this time.

“You know,” he said slowly, “we don’t usually bother pushing this far.” He leaned a little closer, his arm brushing yours. “But I think you already know we’re not leaving this bar without you tonight.”

The statement landed heavy. Kory’s hand finally settled on your knee, she tilted her head as her mouth curved into that sultry smile. “Why would we? You’re exactly what we were looking for.”

Your throat went dry. “That’s… a lot of confidence.”

Dick chuckled, he set his empty glass down and angled toward you, his knee brushing yours under the bar. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel this too.”

You tried, but his gaze held you in place.

Kory leaned in so close you caught the sweetness of her drink on her breath. “We’ll be good to you,” she whispered, voice soft but full of heat. “But we’re not walking out that door without your hand in ours.”

Dick’s hand brushed your arm, light but purposeful. “So,” he asked quietly, “are we going to finish these drinks or are we leaving now?”

You were completely naked in the bed of their apartment, they never stopped looking at you while they also discarded their own clothes. They were both built like greek gods, both with perfectly toned stomachs, strong arms and legs that could easily suffocate you.

Kory sat on the edge of the bed first, her big curls falling around her shoulders, eyes roaming your body with a hunger that made your stomach flip. Dick followed with his gaze just as intense. You shifted nervously under their combined stare, pulling the sheet a little higher over yourself.

“Don’t hide,” Kory murmured, her hand reaching out to pull the sheet right back down. Her palm was warm brushing over your thigh. “You’re too beautiful to hide.”

Dick sat beside you, his hand landing on the other side of your hip, trapping you between them. “She’s right,” he said, voice low and smooth, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Look at you… spread out and waiting for us. You’re perfect.”

Your pulse thundered in your throat.

Kory’s grin softened, but her touch didn’t. Her hand slid up your stomach, fingers brushing over your breasts before cupping one, thumb flicking your nipple until you gasped. Dick leaned down, kissing your shoulder. His mouth trailed up to your neck, lips teasing the sensitive spot just beneath your jaw. 

“Let us show you,” he whispered against your skin.

Kory climbed onto the bed fully, swinging one leg over so she was straddling you. She looked down at you with that same fearless smile, curls bouncing as she leaned forward just enough to press her breasts against your face. 

“Can you taste me, gorgeous?” she teased, tugging her crop top over her head and tossing it aside.

Dick’s hand slid between your thighs, his rings cold against your burning skin. He teased your folds with deliberate strokes, never quite giving you what you needed. 

“Already wet,” he whispered, smirking against your throat. “You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?”

Kory giggled when you whimpered beneath her, rolling her hips just enough for you to feel the heat of her against your thigh. 

“She likes it,” she said, “look at her squirm.”

Dick finally slid two fingers inside you, his pace controlled but firm, curling them just right. You moaned, and he bit your shoulder lightly, as if savoring the sound. 

“Say it,” he demanded softly, his lips brushing your ear. “Say you’ve been waiting for us.”

Your voice broke. “I… I have.”

Kory gasped dramatically, leaning down to kiss you deeply, hot and hungry, her tongue claiming yours while Dick worked you open with his hand. 

“Mmm,” she purred as she pulled back, licking her lips. “So sweet. I want her mouth, Dick.”

He chuckled low, pulling his fingers from you only to suck them clean before shoving them back inside. “Greedy,” he teased, eyes darkening as he watched your reaction.

Kory slid further down until she was straddling your face fully now, lowering herself with a wicked grin. “Be greedy with me,” she whispered. “Eat.”

The second your tongue touched her, she moaned, throwing her head back, her curls bouncing as her hips rolled against your mouth. Dick kissed your stomach, trailing down until he replaced his fingers with his tongue, lapping at you with slow, deliberate strokes that had you arching off the bed.

“Fuck, you taste even better than I imagined,” he groaned against you.

Kory leaned forward, tangling her fingers in your hair, guiding your mouth against her. “Don’t stop,” she begged, her voice high and breathless. “You’re so so good.”

You were shaking, every nerve lit on fire from their combined touch. His mouth devouring you, her heat pressing down against your tongue, their hands roaming, gripping, owning every inch of you.

Overwhelmed, overstimulated, you muffled a cry against Kori’s slick folds, and Dick laughed darkly, pulling back just enough to look up at you. 

“Already?” he asked, lips glistening.

You didn’t answer him, you couldn’t with your mouth full, so you just tugged his hair and pulled him back between your folds. He went back working his two fingers knuckles deep and his tongue lapping over your clit while Kory rode your face.

“Fuck, D-Dick I’m—” you blurted out, bucking your hips up feeling the sting in your walls, only for him to put a hand on your stomach keeping you in place.

“Yeah, baby. C’mon. I’ll eat it all up.”

His voice rumbled against your core as his tongue flicked faster. His fingers curled, hitting that exact spot inside you that made your vision blur. Your hands clawed at the sheets, at his hair, at Kori’s thighs above you, but there was no escape from how they were devouring you.

Kory was gasping, grinding down onto your face with no shame. “She’s so good, Dick fuck her tongue is perfect.” Her nails dragged down your chest, leaving faint red trails over your skin. She tugged your hair to keep your mouth right where she wanted it. “Don’t stop, pretty thing.”

You tried to answer, to beg, but Dick pushed two more fingers inside you, stretching you until your cry vibrated against Kory’s clit. She shuddered hard, laughing breathlessly as her hips rolled faster.

“That’s it,” Dick growled, sucking your clit into his mouth so hard your back arched clean off the bed. “I want you dripping all over my face. I want Kory to taste you when she kisses me.”

Your thighs were trembling, shaking around his head. “I-I can’t… ah!”

“You can,” he interrupted, biting your inner thigh hard enough to sting. 

“Listen to him, gorgeous. Make a mess for us.” 

Your whole body convulsed, stars exploding behind your eyes as your orgasm ripped through you, wet and overwhelming. Dick groaned against your folds, drinking you in while his fingers fucked you through it.

Kori gasped when your moans sent shocks through her own climax. “Oh fuck yes!” she cried out, thighs clamping around your head as she shuddered above you.

When you went limp, trembling and gasping for air, Dick finally pulled back, lips and chin glistening. He crawled up your body, catching Kori’s mouth in a filthy kiss so she could taste you on his tongue as he promised before.

a/n: this is a repost of a fic a deleted a while ago

taglist: @darkxwolfsstuff @nalyarrr @arfemiz @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @FanficBoysAreBae @irisgrrl @lalalalastacy @bewitched-pearl   @starr-jazz   @oliiidot @calzone-d @b-bitter @sonnyssleepingangel @ryoride @minandras   @bat2nsignia @jelxqa @angelicaero @batwngs @crigby @eminencexcancer @cassiecasluciluce @sillygayfreak @kentonanamishousewife @ackpplepie @uma2304 @spidermanluvr444 @heleneae @toejamq @fushigur0lover @jh0pesjuicylefttoe @httpstoyosi @pomegranate-shortcake @6x-x9 @munji-tunji @sleepyghostrama

[annaoi]

Just a what if on Ashley and Leon reunion in Requiem setting. This took way too long to finish and it felt too wordy. Special thanks to @loveiscosmicsinand to @theycallmedarling (on Tumblr) for helping me fix my English.

Edit/correction on dialogue: "I was a pain to rescue."

As always I see a lot of mistakes lol. But too lazy to edit or fix them so just gotta leave this here.

[fawnindawn]

ON THE SAME PAGE

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

pairing: jason todd x fem! reader

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

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

The bell rings.

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

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

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

"Here I was thinking your terrorising finally came to an end." Your voice echoes, a teasing tilt laced in its croak from hours of going unused. "It's nearly closing hour, Jay."

Despite the limp that accompanies his gait, clearly wounded somewhere beneath his large frame and thick layers of clothing, his own smirk greets your gleam of teeth. "Couldn't end a shit week without a recommendation."

Your heart skips, like the quick traitor it is. You feign a casual expression, as if you didn't have his next read hidden under your stack of orders you've yet to shelf.

"Bringing in blood to the floorboards again?" You raise a brow, gaze flickering to where his boots left imprints on the scratched-up wood.

"Nah." His smirk widens, stopping before you. "Wouldn't want you making use of free labour again to mop the dust off this place."

"Wouldn't be too difficult if we didn't have to use bleach, genius."

He shrugs, looking down at you with a pleased expression. "Useful skills I teach you, all without a price, sweetheart." His voice rolls over you like thunder, a low gravel for that mocking nickname he picked out for you like you're the only person he's ever given it to.

Your neck cranes to meet his gaze. "Right, next time I need help cleaning blood trails, I'll call my favourite potential vigilante."

"Oh, so I'm a favourite now?" His brow raises.

"You're so full of yourself." Your bite holds no mark, softening in its edge when your fingers trace over his next recommendation stuffed between the stack of new donations. Dragging it out, you hold it out with held breath.

It never gets easier, the silent exchange. The anticipation, the brief few seconds of waiting as his gaze assesses your pick. It had started out exactly like this, and like some idiotic, preening teenager—you had hoped with every right choice you made, it might heighten the chances of him coming back.

This isn't a library, an establishment where he had to return to at some point. No, he could very likely purchase your selection today, decide it was absolute shit, and never return. Yet, he always came back, and you began to lean on the crutch of a belief that he would continue to.

"Call it a profitable relationship." You joke, even as your heartbeat faintly thuds in the pads of your fingertips, digging into the spine of the copy you reserved for him.

He takes it, fingers brushing over yours. That lingering second of contact feels intentional, but the ghost of his touch disappears before you even have the chance to register its searing warmth.

His smirk dials down into something softer, more genuine. This is the part you love most, and secretly dread that you might not receive. That rare spark in his gaze, to receive something so personal based on the assumption of what he might like. All narrowed down from a history of ten minute exchanges every week in the dead of night, shared between an academic victim who likes spending too much of her time waiting for a suspicious individual to sneak into a local bookstore, and said suspicious individual.

"It's a local author." It spills out of you before you can stop it. "I know you've read most of the classics, but you haven't really delved into ones that relate more to home."

His lip curls, a hum stuck in the back of his throat, and you recognise its one of approval. It shouldn't affect you as much as it did.

"Literature that dives into the horrors of Gotham, should I expect an existential crisis tonight?"

"I'll leave the surprise to do its job.” Leaning in over the counter, your gaze drops to his cargo pants. “Any reason for the limp?"

“Jumped down from the fourth floor.” He shrugs. “Wasn’t sure you’d wait up on me.”

You stare at him wide-eyed, waiting for him to call upon a joke—and he merely returns your stare, amused.

“Jason, you’re joking.”

“I never joke about closing hours.” He shrugs.

You're ready to start, because his frequent disregard for closing hours is a whole other thing—but his gaze shifts instinctively to the clock hanging lop-sided by the ladder, before landing on you again. The crinkles of his gaze deepens, softening the shadows. "You better catch the train. Do me a favour and remember to lock your windows when you get back?”

"Yeah, so long as you come in uninjured next time."

"Worried about me? As long as you keep yours, I’ll keep mine." The point in his grin sharpens, fingers giving a lazy wave as his shoulder digs into the door. The bell rings once more, as if to signify the gravity of his departure. "More illegal activities to run. See you next week, sweetheart.”

His shadow disappears past the flickering street lamp outside the store, as if he never existed. Your heart does that little, traitorous sigh—and that’s all the physical evidence you have past the lump in your throat that the exchange even happened at all.

Your first encounter with Jason was less familiarity-conduced endorphins and more of customer service's worst nightmare.

"Sir, I'm afraid we're closed."

You don't know why you bothered with the 'we', when you're clearly the only staff here. Or why you bothered speaking at all. This man who's barged in through the door, despite the 'Closed' sign, is obviously on edge and possibly on the run? Gotham's unspoken law is to never stick your nose into other people's business, especially if the stranger radiates danger right down to his bruised knuckles. All you should be concerned about is the ten minute walk you have to embark on and how all trains in this district stops at thirty minutes past eleven.

His gaze shifts at the sound of your voice, distracted and hyper-focused all at once. You're struck by the illuminating green that disperses into pale blue, when he finally notices that he isn't alone. Intense, and otherworldly—a gorgeous lunatic who looks like he materialised out of the shadows, stepping into the night and ending up on the wrong side of Gotham.

His gaze doesn't linger for long before it maneuvers around, scoping his environment as his lips press together, some sealed sigh laced within the charged tension between you two. Eventually, a low rasp leaves his lips. "I'll buy somethin'."

Your brows furrow. "Excuse me?"

His hand shifts, waving you off impatiently. "Hand me a book, or two—whatever. I need more time."

The crease between your brows deepen, that soft irritation earlier rising again. Not only has he come in during closing hours, which is the worst of all experiences in customer service, but he had the audacity to be rude and dismissive about it.

"Sir, I'm afraid you'll have to come back another time—"

"Lady." He cuts you off, gaze shifting back towards the streets before looking back to you in warning. "It's not a request. You can charge me however much you want, but I can't leave this store till the coast is clear... and neither can you."

Great, now he's holding you hostage too.

"Are you being chased?" You question impulsively. You have a bugging suspicion that he's prone to lying to you anyways, but his cutting tone makes you unfamiliarly bold. "You're a criminal?"

He snorts, finding something amusing. "In Gotham, some would say it's an honourable profession. There's worse bad guys out there, sweetheart. You're lucky it was me that came in here."

"I wouldn't call it luck." You frown. He doesn't bother with a response, clearly tuning you out, and your growing dislike finds something new to feast on. If you're going to waste a Friday night with some asshole, you may as well squeeze some money out of his pockets. Your gaze flickers over him, scrutinising.

"What are you looking at?" He murmurs, sensing your gaze even when his own is trained on the window, hand tucked under his jacket on what you hope isn't a weapon.

"Just wondering what kind of reader you are."

That finally gets his attention. He looks back at you, surprise evident in his gaze. Without that permanent furrow between his brows, he looks almost younger, erased temporarily of the self-righteousness buried in his bones and the weight of something deadly clutched in his hands.

A moment passes, his tight expression slowly unwinding into genuine amusement. "That's kind of you but you don't have to dial up your customer service. I'm not the kind of guy who leaves reviews."

Your brow twitches, frustration slipping past the cracks of your demeanour. "It's principle. I don't recommend books half-heartedly."

His smirk twitches higher, but you make the wiser choice of storming off, deeper into the shelves before he deigns you with another unfavourable response. Your mind is already slipping into its unfolding map of genres, of the books that encompass your pathway with what you think suits a jerk like him.

"Jackass." You mutter to yourself, opting between a self-help book or a literature pick for the jerk who acts so highly of himself. You decide on the latter, doubting the hunk would even understand the reference.

"Dorian Gray?"

"Yeah, heard of it?" You respond, unamused as you glare down at him.

He's made himself real comfortable, large thighs swallowing up your seat, swirling around on the creaky wheels as he eyes the store with that same assessing look he did when he first entered, as if he was used to mapping out any place he stepped into.

“Experience is merely the name men gave to their mistakes.” He mutters lowly, blue eyes landing back on you.

You blink once, then twice, wondering if you'd misheard him. "You're a reader?"

"Enough to know what you're suggesting, sweetheart." He mocks. "I know a thing or two about mistakes of men, so if you want to cause some real harm, you'll have to hit harder."

"I wasn't—" You falter, because that was exactly what you were intending on. "Fine. You forcefully extended a long, underpaid night shift, and I indirectly called you a jackass. Let's call it even."

His lip twitches involuntarily, not expecting your honesty. "Y'know being direct is what gets you places in Gotham."

"Yeah, gets you running into bookstores and terrorising their staff, you mean?"

"Well, I haven't been insulted through a book before." He shrugs half-heartedly. "I suppose you experience something new everyday."

"Anyone ever told you that you're infuriating?"

"Pretty too." He grins then, something striking and downright filthy. His hand taps on a copy of 'The Picture of Dorian Gray'. "That's what you seem to be suggesting, since you're clearly intent on being honest through your recommendations."

Your scoff escapes you, less annoyed than it should be. "I think my recommendation fits you just fine if that's the only thing you're willing to take from it."

"Oh, I'm more than willing." His grin sharpens. "That's sweet of you, but I'm afraid it's a little compromising, hitting on a customer this soon? You do this with all late night visitors?"

You're tempted to drop one of your heaviest dictionaries right on his skull to sort out the serious issues going on in that head of his. "Customer?" You raise a brow mockingly. "All I see is a stranger wasting my time after closing hours, raising this month's electricity bills, refusing to pay a single cent for his book, and getting out of here as promised."

"We still have—" His gaze glimpses to the clock. "—five minutes if you want to play it safe. You're doing a horrendous job at customer service by the way. Calling me a jackass, trying to kick me out. No wonder this place is—"

Your jaw drops. "You are not insulting the very place you're hiding in like a coward right now."

He raises both hands in surrender. "So charming. Was just going to mention how charming this place is."

Your lips quiver into an almost smile and you shut it down immediately, along with the quick decision that he is dangerous. Disarming with the quickness of his tongue, and unnerving in how he handles conversation like a chess board.

"This entire situation needs more tea." You grumble to yourself, turning your back on him.

There's nothing worth stealing on that counter of yours, unless he's crude enough to steal second-hand books worth cents if he even attempted to resell them in a city like Gotham. At most, he'd take the chipped mug rimmed with your tea. Oh, stupid you forgot your mug.

Your steps retract, a groan caught in the between your lips as you turn around with the anticipation to be hit with his mocking—only to find an empty seat in your view. Your head whips around past the shelves, but there was no sight of a worn leather jacket. Of course, he didn't even bother to announce his departure.

Coming back to the counter, you check for any missing items only to spot a bookmark poking out of one of your books, left in an ajar placement on the counter. On top of it, sat a pile of cash that was worth more than any copy in this entire store.

“Hey—”

He was already gone, you forget. You flip open the book, only to find there’s handwriting on your bookmark. Scratched in impulsively, like a lingering thought he had to put down.

“Jackass left you a tip for the trouble—and the rec. - Jason.”

His condescending tone somehow translates into pen on paper. It should irritate you. Yet, when your fingers lift to trace over the drying ink, you find yourself smiling involuntarily again. Jason. What kind of a man was he? It's a useless question, as you doubt you'll ever see him again.

A likely criminal, a guaranteed jerk—and probably the most exciting visitor of your entire summer.

Jason comes back not a week after. Covered in blood, which after your initial fright, is believed to belong mostly to the other guy. That particular fact he thought to include does little to soothe your nerves.

“You should’ve seen him.” He rambles, in what you could only hope wasn't his disgruntled attempt at impressing you, whilst laying flat on the desk. “Makes mine look like child's play."

The first-aid kit, hidden somewhere in the store cabinet, is squeezed haphazardly onto your office chair. There’s nothing more nerve-wracking than your first attempt at stitching a cut, not anything close to your caliber. If his arms weren't wrecked, you suspect he wouldn't have come all the way to you, an actual stranger. His voice distracts you, and you miss your aim.

Jason hisses, half-shirtless with his black tee tucked between his canines. "No, I said you have to turn it as soon as the point disappears."

Your hand is splayed over his stomach, fingers shaking slightly as you try to focus. "Stop shifting, and just keep quiet for a second. I can't focus with you nagging me."

"Forgive me for being concerned about my wound—"

Your hand comes up to shove the t-shirt further into his mouth, muffling his words. He raises a brow, almost amused, and a trickle of sweat brushes past.

"I'm trying my best to help, when this is clearly something hospitals exist for." You huff, focusing back on the stitch. "Give me some grace, and shut up."

His muscles flex and contract, but eventually, he listens. Your work becomes easier after that, despite it being the worst position you've ever been put in, neck cramping to avoid blocking your only source of light, the flickering lamp above the surface he's laid on, his blood dripping onto the wood.

"You owe me at least five purchases to make up for the blood stains." You grumble. "That requires you to stay alive."

He grunts through the fabric, and you take it as agreement.

“Why’re you back here anyway?” You question, trying to distract yourself. “Of all the places you could’ve gone, you thought that a bookstore keeper would have medical expertise?”

“Not medical expertise.” He mutters, voice too raw to not be honest. “I wanted..”

Your hand places a cloth over his wound, soaking the fabric red. “Wanted what?”

His gaze lingers over you, somehow more haunting with how the blue shade's grown darker, pupils expanded. He winces when you accidentally put too much pressure on the stitch, but that doesn't seem to be all to his sudden stillness. “A recommendation.” He answers eventually.

You stare at him, tempted to laugh. “You came all this way bleeding out, barging in through the door, past closing hours again—for a recommendation?”

He stares at you, and your laugh slips through when you realise that he’s at least half-serious. “I knew you'd be infuriating, but I didn't expect insanity.”

He ends up buying eight later just to prove his point and to make up for the blood stains, only after you promised that they'd all be your recommendations.

The hour's long past operating train schedules, and with the quiet acknowledgement of traumatising your uneventful Friday night, the second time he's reinvented what a normal shift should have been—he offers to walk you back once warmth seeps back into his skin.

Somewhere between sitting cramped behind the shelves as you pick out his recommendations and his tracking gaze over your frame as you rant on about how he desperately needed a self-help book or two, the unspoken tension gradually fades. Eventually, your frustrations die down too—and you realise his company, minus the blood and sharpness of tongue, wasn't the worst thing in the world.

You come to expect Jason’s presence, late in the night although he does begin to respect the concept of a ‘closing hour’. He's usually your last visitor regardless—leaving the two of you alone to... continue on your charade of recommendations. Even when he begins to linger longer than any customer should, offering to walk you back, or make you tea when you're too busy shelfing to bother with a new mug to replace your over-steeped one from the afternoon. Except for today, because Margery, your least favourite customer in the whole of Gotham, decides to pick the one night Jason's visiting to start her practiced act.

Clearly intending on slithering her way into getting something for free, Margery drones on about how important her niece's education is to her, and how anything contributing to children's education should be free of charge. All over a book set costing a measly seven bucks, but you suppose to dear Margery, supporting small businesses in Gotham isn't in her check-list.

“I’m sorry, Margery.” Your voice remains perfectly levelled. “I can't hand the set to you for free, because it's against our policy."

“Can’t you understand my situation?” She huffs, annoyance flared in the fine lines of her cheeks. “No one's even interested in that set, I've surveyed it for days.”

“Which by all existing policies, still requires a purchase, ma’am.”

She scoffs, nails drumming impatiently against the counter. “I want to speak to your manager.”

Your lips quirk up. “Jason.”

Jason shifts then, his gaze lifting from the book in his hand, one which he hasn’t turned the page since he conveniently perched himself right next to your counter ten minutes ago. He places the book down gently onto the wood, bookmark slipping into place, though the slight sneer of his lips conveys none of that delicate care as he slumps against the counter, shoulder brushing against yours.

“There a problem?”

Margery blinks, affronted by his attitude. Or his sheer size towering over her. "You're the manager?"

“Policy’s law.” Jason shrugs. “If you’d like to take this further, to save yourself—“ His gaze flickers to the book set, and his smirk quirks up higher—the perfect composition of a jerk. “Seven bucks, we'll be more than happy to call the authorities.”

“I have never experienced such horrible service!” Her cheeks grow warm, sloshed with embarrassment. “Acting as if I'm in the wrong—you’ll be receiving the worst review!”

"All’s fair in Gotham, ma’am.” He calls out with a grin as he watches her turquoise skirt catch onto the end of the door hinge, releasing another shriek from her lips.

The door slams shut, bell ringing dramatically with the impact, and Jason turns back to you, smile slipping into something familiar and reserved for you. “The review will be wiped the moment she hits post.”

You snort, leaning back against the shelves. “Should I be concerned about your illegal activities invading its way into my work?”

“Nah.” He shrugs. “Last place the GCPD will look into is some shabby bookstore.”

“Shabby.” You feign offense. "Our most repeating customer doesn't even hold a shred of respect for this place."

“Oh-no, I’m beginning to like the sound of being manager of this fine establishment.” He humours, glancing around as if he hasn't already memorised the interior.

You frown, suspicious of his change in tune. “Why, cause you’ll be the boss of me?”

His smirk deepens. “One of its many perks, I imagine.”

“Oh, get over yourself, Todd.” You glance back towards the door, still unable to rid yourself of the satisfaction of watching that entire fiasco go down. "Though I suppose a thank you is in order."

"Couldn't get her out of her fast enough." He shrugs. "She was taking up our time."

"Our?" You raise a brow, almost teasing as you look back at him. "Didn't realise this was our thing now."

His gaze lingers on you, as if he knew his response would be the deciding factor of acknowledging the thinly veiled string that's begun to loop itself around the both of you. Something about your dark circles, the oil on your nose bridge, or the mess of your knotted hair—whatever he saw in you, seals his decision.

"Yeah." His voice rasps, the most unguarded you've ever heard him. "It is."

It's an instantaneous kick, one that nearly leaves you breathless as you try to regain your composure. He could’ve said nothing. He could have thrown this to the side and said that his weekly visits for recommendations during your shifts, no matter if he was bleeding or bruised at the knuckles coming from a life clearly separate from yours—meant nothing.

Yet, it does mean something. Not just to you, but to him as well.

"Oh." You mutter, because you can't think of anything appropriate to say to that.

"Oh." He echoes, a genuine smile lingering at the edge of his lips. "Haven't received my recommendation of the day, sweetheart."

You blink, feeling strangely light, as if your body has regained all the energy zapped out from long hours of rearranging shelves and stacking boxes. It doesn't help that he's looking at you like that, soft and disarmed in a way you've begun to realise he's let himself be, only around you.

You should've trusted your gut that he was dangerous, but never in the way you expected. Your heart skips traitorously, the little thing already knowing something that you refuse to admit aloud. So, you do what you always do and dig out your recommendation, waiting for that spark to light in his gaze and pretend there's nothing more to why you love it so much.

Weeks turn into months, and Jason becomes your one constant even as your shifts lessen in hours to accommodate your academics. If anything, there's something comforting now about leather jackets, the faint scent of pain ointment, the certain knowledge that Jason is most probably a vigilante, after you noticed his constant vigilance over the district you work in has significantly lessened crime rates.

His shelf at home has built its steady collection, every book representing a particular week, an ever-increasing memoir of the thing shared between the two of you, from the first time he stumbled into the store. You don't know what to call it, only that you wish for it to never stop.

He knows the store like the back of his palm, including the exact hour in which you would get up for a tea refill, or when you need a steady hand on the ladder to reach the highest shelves. It's strangely intimate, the way he slots himself into the quiet mundane of your shifts, but he never complains of boredom or having something better to do with his time. If anything, the slower the day, the more he seems to uncurl like a satisfied feline—accompanying you by your side when there's nothing more to do, catching up on his reads while you have a read of your own.

"I have a recommendation for you." Jason mutters offhandedly, legs resting on the desk, as much as home as you are now, seemingly unbothered that he's randomly switched up the unspoken rules of the thing that's shared between the two of you.

You raise a brow, gaze peering over your current read. "You—Mr. I Can't Read Without Your Recommendations, has one for me?"

He shrugs, taking something out from the inner pocket of his jacket. You never understand just how much he's able—and willing to fit inside the leather confinements, and you swear half of it belongs to his side of the world you're privy to only in the latest of nights, when his hand is gripping yours knuckle-white, and he lets you stay by his side before muttering his review for his latest read.

In his hand, is a book, one in which you recognise immediately.

"Dorian Gray." You muse. "Is it your turn to call me self-conceited?"

His lip twitches into a half-smirk, but it buries itself under what you only recognise now to be nerves.

"Jason?" You murmur, slightly startled as you place down your book.

His own hand, scarred over the knuckles and engulfing the book, places its weight gently in your hands, as if offering something sacred.

"I wrote something inside." He mutters, voice softened.

Your brows furrow, but you oblige—flipping open the very first copy you've ever recommended to him, and find a handwritten note on the first page. It's unmistakably his, and there's a few scratched out lines that you can't make out, clearly something he pondered over for a while.

"I think you've probably figured it out by now, that I am not good with my words, no matter how many books I've read with greater speeches or declarations. Still, you deserve to hear something honest, and I've always conveyed myself better through my actions than I do with my mouth.

When I first entered this store, I never expected to run into you. Fate or whatever people call it, has never been considerate of my path, or who I encounter along it. Yet, you stood right there, clearly out of place with the world I know, and I don't think I'll ever truly comprehend how our paths aligned. I told myself to forget you, but you had given me a piece of you in the book you placed in my hands, and I couldn't stop thinking of that, of you. I tried convincing myself, after considering it for seven days, that seeking you out would make the curiousity dissipate, and not because I wanted to hear your voice again.

Bleeding out over your counter, I knew that I was done for when I realised I was willing to buy the entire store if it meant getting to spend a few more minutes by your side. Every book I carried home, was me getting to keep pieces of evidence, of this thing we share that feels like it's completely ours. Proof that a person who thought about what kind of reader I'd be despite every reason not to care—actually existed.

I'll probably regret this, I do have a talent of screwing up with people, but keeping silent has never been my forte, and I would regret not telling you what I've known since the first, which is that there hasn't been a single book where a line has crossed my mind without thinking of you. That there hasn't been a day, where I don't hold myself back from wanting to see you again. I'm offering you my honesty because I do believe that's the only decency available in Gotham, and I'd like to offer you at least that."

Speechless was an understatement for the shaking in your fingers, the weight of the page in your hand when you finally look up and meet his gaze.

He's nervous, pupils dilated—body locked with tension. He's just poured his heart out to you through the page of the very first book you've given him, and he's staring at you like you’ve changed the entire trajectory of his life, and not the other way around.

“Jason.”

“I’ve never done anything like this.” It spills out of him, as if he can’t contain himself. “Our thing, falling for someone. So, before you say anything—I just want to state that I'm not expecting anything. That's the one of the hardest lessons I ever had to learn a long time ago, so don't feel you have to say something you don't mean. I just can't go on pretending that meeting you didn't change something in me—that it hasn't rewired what genuine happiness feels like. I began to read again, after all these years, because books which I once found comfort in now reminds me of you. That in every line I read, I searched for something to bring back to you."

"It scared me." He admits, and even the act seems to cost him. "To care that much. To have this lack of control over how I operate, how I should feel. You disarmed me in a way no one else ever had, and I didn't think I even had that in me anymore. To feel this terrified and to still want someone this much."

His hand lowers to the note-filled page, the book still gripped between your hands and his expression steadies. "I considered it countless times. To stop this, before I start something I'll never be able to take back. Then I looked at you, and I realised I can never go back to my life 'before' you. That I was already in this, and I'd be willing to do anything if you are too."

"Jason." You call out, and he stops with a trained halt, as if he expected the worst. That was your last straw.

"I didn't even need the note." You burst. "If you had simply told me you wanted me, I would've already said yes. Our thing, I've always wanted to be a part of it."

Before, he was tense—but now, your words seemed to have hit him like a truck. You continue, not wanting him to doubt something you realised should've been obvious from the moment you kept that very first note he left you in your wallet.

"I want to be in this with you, Jason." You confess. "You're the one person I wanted to see every night. I don't know how to say this without sounding like a mess but—every book in this store, I constantly look for something that screams you and I wait in the hopes that you'll like it, and that was the most scariest, intimate thing I've ever done for someone. So—you're an idiot if you think I don't want this as much as you do."

"...You mean I didn't have to feel physically ill to write that note out, and you would've said yes?" He mutters after a moment, a low huff of amusement leaving his lips.

“I thought you said being direct is what gets you places in Gotham.” You quote.

His smile gradually reappears. “Yeah, I suppose it got me places. Running into a shabby bookstore, getting hit on the first night.”

You raise a brow. “You and I remember that encounter very differently."

"Yeah?" He murmurs. "That'll be a problem if we aren't on the same page. Just to give it a test, what if I said I wanted to kiss you right now?"

Shock registers faintly to you, even if that thought's been circling your mind for months. A little smile pulls at your mouth. "Yeah, I think we might be on the same page there."

When he leans in, you smell faintly of gunpowder, something warm and smoky—so distinctly Jason. You don't think you'll ever tire of it, and you love it more when his fingers tangled itself into your hair, brushing against the nape of your neck. When he finally kisses you, a low rumble in the back of his throat in content, you find he was half-right that night you both met. Maybe there was luck involved after all.

"I am keeping that note." You murmur after he pulls away to press something softer against your temple.

His lips curl into a smile, and you feel it against your skin. "'Course you are."

[kaylasficrecs]

this legitimately is one of my favorite jason fics i have ever read. i can’t put into words how much i feel about this fic.

[luviery]

COLOR ME, YOU

summary: "Can you cosplay as Red Hood for me, pretty please?" How does a minor crush on the hot guy at the library lead you to ask Jason Todd to be your muse. A story about how hope when given, returns to you when you least expect it. pairing: Jason Todd x Artist! fem! reader tags and warning(s): soft romance, Fluff, suggestive, Angst that come as a part of writing jason todd, implied sunshine reader but she wasn't like this all the time, a lot about hope, full circle ahh moments, childhood incidents, minor stalking but not really , Red Hood has no pictures on the internet (for this fic's sake), there will be individual warnings for chapters if needed. author's note: this idea has been rotting in my head for months. (I have the chapters outlined and the first chap written) will be released in the last week of may! word count: 29.3K moodboard jason todd mlist

chap 1: hottie in the library [3.5K]

chap 2: You know red hood ? [3.6K]

chap 3: Jason Todd and his muse [6.7K]

chap 4 : Pizza and tears [8.4K]

chap 5 : The hope that you give returns to you one day [5.7K]

Epilogue [1.1K]

SERIES TAGLIST : CLOSED

To be part of the general taglist, comment on this post.

[papayafromtv]

au where Jason is the one to deliver Damian to Bruce but he and Damian get into an argument on the drive over about how good at stealth missions Damian is and it ends in Jason double-dog daring him to skip the whole 'introduction' aspect of going to live with Bruce and instead to just sneak into the manor and see how long he can go unnoticed for.

Damian's claim is that the manor is so big and Damian's so good at remaining hidden that he could live in the manor without anybody else there clocking him easy. Jason just wants to see how long he can actually go because in his mind the longer Bruce goes without realising he has Damian in the house, the funnier the reveal will be. he's actually kinda rooting for Damian purely because it's funnier if he pulls it off for a really long time first. then Jason can snitch on him and the fall-out will be glorious.

he lasts about four months.

two weeks in and Alfred becomes suspicious, but chooses to believe that it's raccoons or pigeons in the attic because then he doesn't have to get involved. and he really doesn't want to get involved.

a month in and Damian almost gets caught by Tim while trying to steal some food in the middle of the night and getting cornered in the kitchen, but Tim hadn't slept in three days and was high on cold medicine at the time so he assumed that Damian was actually a hallucination of Bruce as a child, and all he did was stare Damian directly in the eye and solemnly tell him 'never ask your parents to go see a movie with you.' before going to pass out in the study.

two months in and Damian has gotten into a rhythm with it. feeling unchallenged, he starts waiting for Bruce to fall asleep in front of the batcomputer during hard cases so he can sneak out from the walls and fix whatever Bruce is getting wrong and solving the case before he wakes up.

three months in and Dick runs into him while sneaking in through a side door so he can grab some stuff from his bedroom without having to talk to Bruce, but Damian bullshits that he's one of Tim's school friends visiting to complete a school project, and Dick gives him twenty dollars to promise that he won't tell anybody Dick is in the building.

four months in and he gets cocky; starts ordering packages to the manor addressed to himself. Alfred asks Bruce at the dinner table why they've received an amazon package for 'Damian Wayne' and nobody knows what the fuck he's talking about. the next night the Red Hood snitches and asks how 'Damian's doing' and Bruce becomes convinced that Hood has the manor bugged. demands a full sweep of the building. Tim comes across Damian napping in a hammock in the attic wearing Tim's presumed-lost clothes next to a pile of supremely confidential files stolen from the batcave.

Damian wakes up and promptly tells them all that they aren't allowed to be mad because the statute of limitations for breaking and entering has passed already. Jason laughs so hard he cries.

[kentluv3r]

JASON PETER TODD: loves leather jackets. fights with a speed and fury that no one is able to replicate. spends nights in the boxing ring alone. alone but not lonely. sexy but not obnoxious.

BOXER! JASON TODD… growing up in gotham city; fighting was something jason found out at a young age. from stealing parts off cars to sell and get by, to becoming the apprentice of billionaire bruce wayne— jason makes his own name, under the nickname of “redhood” in the boxing ring.

BOXER! JASON TODD… swings with anger. who wins with relief. he likes the belts, he likes the titles, he loves the money… but he loves using fighting as a way to get his anger out. his poor ring opponents don’t know how much rage he has until he lands one right hook to their cheek.

BOXER! JASON TODD… who fucks gently. for a man as angry as him, his cock ruins you pretty gentle. he can get rough; absolutely… but when it comes to you and your pretty face and your pretty pussy; how could he ever destroy something that pretty? he worships the ground you walk on, he makes out with your clit slowly and steadily, his tongue sliding up and down your folds. he allows you to pull on his hair and slap his face and scratch his back… all while he sweet talks your fluttering cunt and cums deep inside it.

BOXER! JASON TODD… takes dates seriously. he will go into a fight sleepy if it meant your dates are extended. he will cancel practice to get you something if you’re down in the dumps. he will leave celebration parties early (or won’t even show) if you need him for even five minutes. he will spend so much money on you to prove to you that he loves every second with you. he will go to your siblings or friends to make sure the gifts he gives you are right. he’s a man in love and he won’t make a silly mistake like not loving you!

BOXER! JASON TODD… kisses you before every match as a good luck charm. in fact, his only loss of his career, coming at the hands of the up-and-coming champion, was the only fight in which you didn’t kiss him before hand… so his running theory that kissing him gives his body something to fight for? yeah. he sticks with it!

masterlist is here! click here for more!

ⓘ KENTLUV3R’S WORK. all my fanfics (not the characters) is my very own, coming from my own efforts and my time. do not copy my work, rewrite it, shove it through an ai machine and shit out slop, and don’t repost to wattpad/ao3/c.ai!

[stcrgazerlily]

━━━━━━━ THIS CAN GO ONE OF TWO WAYS

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bf!jason todd x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: roy calls you at 2 am, apparently jason is drunk and needs you

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 1.1k words, none, fluff, CRACK, sort of part 2 for this, roy is there too, 1 sexual comment, not edited just proof-read 🚬

<𝟑: art creds to @quezartt

You’re currently wearing one of Jason’s Gotham U hoodies (you suspect it’s not actually Jason’s) that reaches down to your legs, along with your winter boots. Aside from that, you’re wearing your pyjamas and nothing else.

You’re absolutely freezing your ass off, and by the time you barge into the club Roy sent you the address to, you swear you’re on the verge of hypothermia.

You would’ve told him to fuck off because it’s literally two a.m. But he called with Jason’s phone, and told you to come right now.

You need to come. It’s Jason.

Your heart absolutely stopped for a second. What? You can’t even hear your own voice.

He laughs. Nothing serious. He’s just worried you’re hungry.

Huh? Your voice is still raspy from sleep.

Just come.

So now you’re here, climbing the stairs to the VIP lounge. And it’s just your luck that someone is guarding the door.

He scans you up and down, then shuffles a bit closer to block the entrance.

"Hi, um, my friends are inside waiting for me."

He raises a brow. "Sure.”

"Yeah," you insist. "Roy and Jason—"

His face falls. "You’re Jason’s girl?"

"Sorry?" You blink twice. "What do you mean—"

But you’re interrupted for a second time. You frown and check your phone again, to see if there are any missed calls. There’s not.

The man turns around and taps his earpiece. A moment later, he spins back to you, smiling brightly. "You can absolutely come in." He opens the door for you. "Jason’s girl."

You mumble a thanks, still very weirded out by the whole experience.

The second you step inside, all eyes snap to you. Granted, there are only five other people besides Roy and Jason, but it’s still very weird for everyone to be tracking your movements and whispering to each other.

You ignore the stares and make your way to the boys’ table in the corner of the room. Just where Jay would’ve chosen it— away from any potential threats.

"Roy! Jason!" you call.

Jason is rambling to Roy, waving his hands around and smiling brightly. But the second he hears you, his whole body freezes. Even his hands stop mid-gesture. His pretty green eyes immediately start scanning the room until they land on you.

And then he waddles. He waddles toward you. His movements are clumsy as he tries to grab you, nearly walking straight into a decorative plant.

"Baby!"

You catch him just as he’s about to collapse on top of you. Struggling to support his weight, you try to steady him.

He lets you. Then he picks you up.

He kisses you on the nose, and all you can do is blink in confusion before he throws you over his shoulder.

"Jason?" you whisper-yell. "Put me down right now."

"Nuh-uh." He sounds smug. "Can’t."

The world flips again as he plops you down beside him on the velvet couch. Now you’re sandwiched between the two of them.

You look at Roy, raising a brow. "What did you even give him?"

He smirks, raising his hands innocently. "He said he could handle it."

Jason is playing with your hair. He tugs on a strand before curling it around his index finger.

"Why is everyone looking at us?"

Roy laughs, bright and loud. "Jason couldn’t stop telling everyone about you. The cocktail guy, the—"

"Bouncer?"

He snaps his fingers. "Yeah." Roy grins. "You know, I thought he'd eventually run out of facts."

You blink. "Facts?"

"Oh, yeah." He starts counting on his fingers. "You brush your teeth for ten minutes— you’re a psycho for that, by the way. You like your toast overly done. You cry at movies, even if they’re not sad. He’s dissected the meaning of all of your favourite songs...”

You’re too dumbfounded to properly answer. Roy continues.

"You apparently have the prettiest smile in the tri-state area."

Jason nods solemnly. "It's true."

Roy whistles. "He's got it bad."

Jason is still playing with your hair. "You’re so pretty."

You turn to him with a smile, brushing his cheek softly. He immediately nuzzles into your touch. "Not as much as you."

He shakes his head. "No, no. You’re ridiculously pretty. Sometimes"— he drops his voice, as if you’re sharing some great secret—"when you smile, I forget how to think. Or when you do anything, really."

He wraps an arm around your waist until there isn’t even an inch of space between you. You can feel every line of his body, the hard muscle beneath his clothes. "My pretty, pretty girl."

You place a soft kiss on his lips. "I love you, Jay."

"And you also make me really hard."

Roy’s laughter is impossible to ignore. He slams a hand on the table, wheezing as he mumbles something between fits of laughter. You see him fumble for his phone out of the corner of your eye.

"Yesterday, for example, when you—"

"Jason," you say sternly.

His face falls. "Don’t be mad at me." He’s frowning now, his big green eyes glossy and wide.

You cup his face. "I’m not angry, baby."

"Oh, okay." He nods slowly. "I’m sorry I told Roy you snore."

"I do not—"

Roy nudges your shoulder. "According to Jason, you do."

Jason nods matter-of-factly. "When I can’t sleep, I listen to you breathe. So yeah. You snore."

Your heart pounds in your chest, steady and hard. You want to kiss him. Not just his lips. Everywhere.

Because who decided kisses on the lips were the most intimate? You’d kiss every scar, every freckle, every crook of his beautiful body. You want to worship him with kisses.

"And you make me soup," Jason continues, completely oblivious to the look of pure love on your face.

Roy blinks. "Okay?"

Jason sighs dramatically. "Not canned soup. Actual homemade soup she spends time and effort making."

"Congratulations.”

He rolls his eyes. "You don’t get it." Then his eyes find yours, unwavering. "But you do. You get me, and you love me."

"Of course I do, Jay.” You smile softly.

Jason smiles before resting his head in the crook of your neck. His eyes flutter shut as you run your fingers through his hair. "You’re my definition of an angel."

The next morning, Jason wakes up with a killer hangover and his entire body wrapped around you.

Then he bumps into Roy in the kitchen. He dies of embarrassment the second Roy holds up his phone to show him something.

The video shows nothing but the club ceiling, dim lighting, and red velvet. The audio, however, is crystal clear.

What if she’s hungry?

Jason physically cringes at the sound of his own whiny, worried voice. He’s never drinking again. Roy is barely holding in his laughter, the phone slightly shaking.

She’s an adult, man.

She forgets to eat. There’s a frustrated grumble. I can’t unlock my phone. Stupid numbers. A brief shuffle. The password is her birthday. You call her.

Jason wants to crawl into the Lazaurs Pit and disappear.

[digitalkennedy]

can’t stop thinking about sleeping with rookie leon !!!

he makes sure you have enough of the blanket to cover your body, or goes as far as to tuck you in before rolling next to you in bed. checks your glasses of water on each night stand before turning off the light.

if one of you can’t sleep, leon is willing to chat for a while. literal nonsense. how your day was, how his was, what you had for lunch while he was at the station, would ramble about missing you like crazy.

cuddling cuddling cuddling, tons of cuddling.

i picture leon as the type to give you tons of kisses on your nose, tucking your head under his chin and caressing your back.

“today felt 72h long… i couldn’t wait to leave and come home to you,” he mumbles timidly.

even if you two have been together for a while, he can’t really stop blushing and his heart can’t stop racing whenever you two are like this.

he’s so damn sweet. if it was for him, he’d never leave your side. like a puppy. he kinda is your puppy, i think you have him wrapped around your fingers.

if he’s not too tired, he’ll wait for you to fall asleep first, even if it takes forever and he has an early shift in the morning.

if he is too tired, you can witness his puppy face relaxing and enjoy watching him sleeping – he snores lightly, too.