my pretty little head

been there, done that... now i'm here || 18+

[perleaore]

୭ ˚. 🧸 are you my mom? ₊   ֹ ˖

— bruce wayne x reader

ノ♡ ⬞ ׄ you tell yourself you’re just helping out at wayne manor until a sleepy eight year old casually calls you bruce’s wife and suddenly everything feels a little too real. basically you’re not in love with bruce wayne but gotham and dick grayson know better.

You’re not in love with Bruce Wayne.

That’s what you keep telling yourself as you smooth the blankets over his newly adopted son and tuck them beneath his chin. Bruce is out on patrol somewhere between rooftops and shadows, and you’re here in Dick’s room in the quiet center of the manor. Anyone would do this for a friend. Anyone would calm a scared kid after a nightmare.

Okay, maybe most friends don’t spend so many nights at Wayne Manor that there’s a bedroom permanently set aside for them. Maybe most friends aren’t trusted with Gotham’s biggest secret or the bruises that come with it. Maybe most friends don’t know the sound of the cave opening or the difference between Bruce’s tired sighs and his relieved ones. But still, you tell yourself, you’re just friends.

Dick finally settles, his breathing evening out as you press a soft kiss to his forehead. You straighten up, ready to slip away, when his fingers curl around your hand, small and warm and stubborn.

You sigh quietly and give in, like you always do. You slide back into the bed, and he scoots closer right away, clinging to you like you might vanish if he lets go. Your arm wraps around him, hand moving in slow circles against his back. It hurts, a little, thinking about how much he’s already lost.

“Are you my mom now?” he mumbles into your chest, half asleep and not really thinking about what he’s saying.

“What?” you whisper, careful not to wake him fully.

“If Bruce is my dad, then you’re my mom.”

Your brows knit together, but your hand doesn’t stop moving. “Why d’you think that, baby?”

“’Cause moms and dads are married,” he says like it’s obvious. “You’re married to Bruce.”

You almost choke, your hand pausing for half a second before you make yourself keep going. “Bruce and I aren’t married, sweetheart.”

“But married people stay together,” he murmurs, his words starting to slur. “They love each other. Like you and Bruce.”

Your heart twists. You kiss the top of his head and whisper into his curls, “That’s enough thinking for tonight. Go to sleep.”

By the time the door opens quietly, Dick’s fast asleep, his arm still draped over you. You barely register the sound until Bruce is there, filling the room with exhaustion and something softer when he sees you both.

He kneels beside the bed and brushes his knuckles lightly against your arm. “Hey,” he murmurs. “Patrol’s done.”

You stir at the sound of his voice, eyes fluttering open. Before you can say anything, he gestures toward Dick, already easing the blanket back into place and guiding the boy deeper into sleep. You slip out of bed just as carefully, shoes in hand, moving on instinct.

Bruce opens the door just enough for you to pass, and the two of you tiptoe into the hallway together, close and quiet, careful not to wake him. When the door clicks shut, his shoulders finally relax.

“Thanks,” he says softly, voice rough with more than just fatigue.

As your eyes adjust to the soft hallway light, it really hits you how roughed up Bruce looks. There’s dried blood at his hairline, a dark bruise already blooming along his jaw, and a split at his lip that he’s clearly been ignoring. Alfred definitely hasn’t gotten to him yet.

“You look…” you start, trailing off as you take him in.

“I know,” he says with a quiet yawn, his hands settling on your arms like he needs something solid. “I’ll take care of it. You should go back to bed.”

“You’re not gonna take care of it,” you say, frowning, suddenly very awake.

He hesitates, then exhales. “…Yeah. You’re right.”

Which is how you end up in the bathroom with him a few minutes later, Bruce sitting on the counter while you stand between his knees, sleeves rolled up and supplies spread out like this isn’t new. He’d suggested the cave, but you’d shaken your head right away, muttering something about it being too cold.

He watches you as you clean the cut near his temple, your touch careful and practiced. His hands rest at your hips, light but steady, more for balance than anything else. The quiet stretches until it starts to feel heavy.

“So,” you say, trying for casual. “Dick had a nightmare tonight.”

Bruce’s expression softens instantly. “Is he okay?”

“He is. He just needed someone to sit with him.” You hesitate, then add, “He said something, though.”

Bruce’s brows knit together. “What kind of something?”

You focus a little too hard on the bandage in your hands. “He asked if I was his mom now.”

Bruce stills. “He did.”

“Yeah,” you say softly. “He said if you’re his dad, then I must be his mom.”

The room feels smaller. Bruce clears his throat. “Kids say things when they’re half asleep.”

“I know. I told him we’re not married,” you rush on. “But he said married people stay together. That they love each other. Like me and you.”

You finally look up, bracing for him to laugh it off. Instead, he looks stunned, eyes searching your face like he’s trying to decide something important.

“Oh,” he murmurs.

You let out a nervous little laugh. “I told him it was too much thinking for nighttime.”

“That was probably smart,” Bruce says, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. Then, quieter, “Do you think he believed you?”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “He was already falling asleep.”

You go back to tending the bruise on his shoulder, fingers brushing his skin. Bruce inhales slowly, steadying himself.

“He’s not wrong about one thing,” he says after a moment.

You pause. “About what?”

“About you staying,” he says, eyes warm and earnest. “About him feeling safe with you. About me feeling the same way.”

Your heart stutters. “Bruce…”

“I think I have for a while,” he continues, almost shy. “I just didn’t know what to do with it.”

You swallow, hands resting on his chest now, the bandage forgotten. “For the record,” you say softly, “I didn’t exactly argue with him.”

His thumb brushes your hip, hesitant. “Maybe we don’t correct him too hard next time.”

You smile. “Maybe we don’t.”

The silence that follows feels different. Softer. Bruce leans forward before you can overthink it, just enough to press a quick, gentle kiss to your lips. It’s brief, careful, like he’s afraid of crossing a line, but it still steals the breath from your lungs.

You pull back immediately, hands flying to his face. “Bruce, wait. Your lip,” you scold quietly. “You’re gonna get it infected.”

He huffs a small laugh. “Worth it.”

You glare at him, dabbing antiseptic against the split with exaggerated care. “You’re impossible.”

“Only a little,” he says, smiling at you like he already knows you’re not going anywhere.

You finish patching him up after that, movements slower, gentler. When you step back, he keeps you close, forehead resting lightly against yours. And this time, you don’t tell yourself you’re just friends.

Maybe you are in love with Bruce Wayne.

© 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐍𝐌𝐔𝐍 ﹒ est 2025

[incorrectmarvelquotesss]

— brighter than the lights —

Warnings: fluff

Summary: Jason attends the winter festival at his daughter’s school.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

A/N: Happy Holidays. I’m sorry for being so absent, but after the long two months I’ve had, I feel the need for the break. I’m getting back slowly. Again, sorry for that. For now, have this fluffy little fic. Enjoy!

DC M.List || Navigation || MCU M.list

The cool night wind seeped into Jason’s leather jacket. His eyes were sharp, assessing the crowd of parents surrounding the entrance to the gymnasium.

Jason always stuck out like a sore thumb in these crowds. His posture was too tense, too straight, his height making him even more noticeable. His hands would be curled into fists as if he was trying hard to punch his way through. He tried to hide those fists in his pockets.

But his intense stare and the scar on his cheek made it impossible for other parents not to notice.

They gawked and looked over their shoulders twice. They whispered to their spouses or partners about him and the sweet lady that he accompanied—you.

You were the complete opposite of him.

You had the most gentle smile on your face. Even as your breath turned to frost in front of you as you breathed or talked to him excitedly, you looked absolutely radiant.

Your eyes were bright, warm, and, somehow, all much more vibrant. Your clothes were all soft-knitted sweaters and comfy jeans in the winter while, in the hotter months, they varied in sundresses. None of your clothes were in black—there were some shades of grey, though.

He could always hear at least one person in crowd ask how did he end up with her?

Easy answer was he didn’t know. The hard answer was much more complicated and hard to explain.

You two had been friends since middle school, causing Bruce and your parents heart attacks since the age of eleven. Somewhere between middle school and high school, a sacred sort of love blossomed. You two started sneaking out more, exploring yourselves and each other, and, next thing you knew, you two were in love.

When he died and came back, there was no doubt about how you two felt. You married young and had welcomed your baby girl—Elizabeth—two years after your marriage.

Since she was born, she was Jason’s and your entire world. Everything you two did was with Lizzie in mind. He reduced his nightly routine, opting for simple patrol in the neighbourhood, and retiring from his team. You scoured for houses with a porch, a big backyard, and some extra space around if you ever wanted to expand.

It had been a long five years, but Lizzie was still your everything. From her puppy eyes to her pouty lips to her dark curls that refused to lay flat like Jason’s. She was all yours.

“Did you hear me?” You asked, your voice breaking through Jason’s thoughts.

His gaze flickered down to you, brows raising and his lips curling at the end into his infamous smirk. He shook his head. “Sorry, sweets,” he said, his head dipping slightly to lean in to hear you better. “Repeat that, please.”

Manners. You had somehow engraved those into him when Lizzie was just a toddler and starting her terrible twos. He hadn’t seen it then, but, now, he could see the effect his manners and yours had on Lizzie.

She knew when to say please, thank you, and sorry. She excused herself after sneezing or burping, said sorry when she knew she did something wrong, and always thanked anyone who helped her in the slightest.

You both always got compliments on how well-behaved she was. It was a source of pride.

You smiled as you repeated yourself. “I said that I like the lights they have up on the ceiling.” You pointed up at the gymnasium ceiling, where colourful lights were strung up in holiday fashion. “Maybe we could do that at home. In the hallway maybe. Upstairs or the entry from the front door.”

Jason listened quietly. His hand came out of his pocket when he noticed your attention on the lights rather than the ground. He placed his hand on your lower back, letting you ramble about where to put up the lights as he guided you through the set up chairs. He found two spots up close to the stage luckily and nudged you to sit.

“What if we put them in the living room? Oh, but we’ve got the ceiling fan in there,” you were saying, your eyes still on the ceiling. You sat down without looking, Jason taking the seat next to you. “Lizzie would love lights on her bedroom ceiling. Maybe we could move her fairy lights from the curtains to the ceilings. What do you think?”

Jason nodded slowly, his arm draping across the back of your chair. “That would be nice,” he replied, watching as teachers scurried across the floor near the stage to add final touches, followed by some students chattering about their performances.

He looked at you, brushing a strand of hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear. “It’ll look like stars,” he added with a smirk. He knew that that would excite you further. “We could even put them into constellation patterns.”

Your eyes lit up, brighter than the lights above. “Oh, that would be so lovely, Jay,” you said with a grin.

He loved that look on you.

“We can get to it tomorrow, yeah?” He offered gently, his voice only loud enough for you. He didn’t need any other of the parents hearing him talk to you like this.

For some odd reason, he liked knowing that the parents were wary of him. It let him maintain a stern attitude if any kid messed with Lizzie or if any snobby wife tried to belittle you. It had happened once before at a PTA meeting, but, after a few minutes of Jason’s low voice and angry eyes, it had never happened again.

“Yeah, that works perfectly,” you agreed, your eyes flickering from him to the stage as the hosts—two students and a teacher—began talking.

The stage lights turned on, chatters in the crowd died down, and the attention was on the winter performances.

The performances were a mix of arts, from dance to singing to acting to drawing.

The first performance was a carol from the school choir, white shirts and black pants making the kids look a lot more formal than they behaved. The second performance was a poem about snow from a second grade student. The third was a history lesson on Hanukkah by three grade five students. The fourth was from a grade four student, who drew a scenery for Christmas.

The fifth was the one you and Jason had been waiting for.

As the curtains drew open, Jason’s eyes were already searching for his little one. When his teal eyes met the exact same ones, his shoulder relaxed. His lips curled and he waved as Lizzie searched the crowd for you and Jason.

Her nose scrunched in frustration as she lifted a hand to block the sharp stage lights aimed at her eyes. Her gaze raked over the crowd before finally finding her daddy and mommy. Lizzie’s whole face lit up as she waved back at her daddy.

You had already started filming on your phone, cooing about how adorable she and the other girls looked.

Lizzie was dressed in a pink tutu, black leggings, and a pink shirt. Her feet were clad in those ballet shoes you and Jason had bought just a few days ago because she had to look the part and couldn’t without the ballet shoes. Her hair was still in that bun you had managed to put it in, but a few curls were dangling on her forehead.

“She looks beautiful , doesn’t she?” You asked Jason, but you two already knew his answer.

“Perfect,” he breathed with his eyes still on Lizzie. “Absolutely perfect.”

The music began and she started dancing with the four other girls. They twirled around, jumped, and tried to sync. Their ballet was a little wonky, none of them professionals by any means, but it didn’t matter.

Lizzie was up there, trying her best and having fun, and that was all that mattered to you two.

At the end of the dance, when the audience clapped for them and you cheered for her, her smile was brighter than all the lights.

Jason loved that look on her almost as much as he loved it on you.

[perleaore]

INTRODUCING SINGLEMOM!READER .ᐟ ˎˊ˗

﹕﹒⟢ she never planned on raising a child alone, never mind at an age so young with it’s father dead, but gotham has a way of reshaping plans. her daughter became the bright center of her world — the little heartbeat that reminds her that hope can exist in a city like this.

﹕﹒⟢ with her sister and mother’s help, babysitting through long study nights and keeping her fed when she forgot, she managed to finish high school early, balancing motherhood and essays with quiet grit.

﹕﹒⟢ she sped through college too, fueled by caffeine, hope, and her family’s unwavering faith. at twenty, degree in one hand and her daughter in the other, she was writing for the gotham gazette turning her love for words into a voice the city couldn’t ignore.

﹕﹒⟢ she adores working as a journalist, her desk always covered in coffee mugs, half-scribbled notes, and old poetry books. her editor says she writes like she’s in love with words, and she beams because, in a way, she is.

﹕﹒⟢ her apartment smells like coffee, old books, and cinnamon. she keeps string lights up all year because she likes how they make the walls feel alive. there’s always a vase of flowers on the table, usually half-wilted but still beautiful.

﹕﹒⟢ her daughter, who is nearly five now, is the light of her life. she’s all curls and questions, with her father’s eyes and mother’s smile. every morning starts with mismatched socks and hurried breakfast, and every night ends with a bedtime story she half-makes-up from her favourite novels.

﹕﹒⟢ she never tells her daughter much about her father, though she will read his favourite novels to her. the four year old has taken a specific liking to pride and prejudice, just like her father. the similarity hurts and heals her at the same time.

﹕﹒⟢ her notebooks are filled with scraps of poetry, half-finished essays, and doodles in the margins. her handwriting changes with her mood: looping and wild when she’s inspired, neat and tiny when she’s trying not to cry.

﹕﹒⟢ she romanticizes everything — her morning coffee, a passing stranger’s smile, the sound of the rain outside her window. her loved ones tease her for it, but she insists that finding beauty in small things is the only way to live instead of merely survive in gotham.

﹕﹒⟢ despite everything, she believes in goodness. she believes in people. her kindness isn’t naive; it’s deliberate, a rebellion against the city’s cruelty. “if gotham can’t be gentle,” she once wrote, “then someone in it still can be.”

BEST PAIRED WITH: JASON TODD

works :

impossibly, you irrevocably, us the anniversary meet the waynes

© 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐍𝐌𝐔𝐍 ﹒ est 2025

[shisuni]

⤷ "glitter pens and hot chocolate." master list ! ☕

jason todd x fem!reader ✚ platonic! damian wayne x reader ✚ platonic! jason todd x damian wayne 🍵

summary ⊹₊ ⋆ Damian has a family. He finds one more with you two. And in a way, Jason accepts the one he has. 🖍️ suni's ᯓ★ navigation ⭑.ᐟ 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐

⤷ authors note .ᐟ.ᐟ started as a one shot... anyways live laugh Damian and Jason. To be clear, these chapters will not be posted in chronological order as most can be read as one shots, however here, they will be listed in order. Once completed, I will add scene numbers.

scene ✗ : coming soon ! you smell like home and you feel like my mother scene ✗ : Just us two…" "Oh, that would be wonderful!" "…Three?" ... scene ✗ : glitter pens mean we are family ... ... scene ✗ : 'parent'-teacher meeting part one. ... ... ... scene ✗ : coming soon ! damian is not doing split custody ... ... scene ✗ : coming soon ! happy birthday

ᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵉʳ ᵇʸ ᶜᵘʳˢᵉᵈ⁻ᶜᵃʳᵐⁱⁿᵉ

authors note! I hope you enjoy and if you want to be put on a tag list for ALL my works comment and I will add you! ദ്ദി˶ｰ̀֊ｰ́ ) my asks are always open just to talk or ask questions please please please let me know what you think it gives me so much motivation to write and you will be getting a new work sooner if you do ; (◞‸◟)

©shisuni 𝖺𝗅𝗅 rights reserved , 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅/𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒 𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝗅𝖺𝗂𝗆 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗈𝗐𝗇. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗂/𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗍𝗀𝗉𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝗂𝗍. Any oc's are not permitted to be put into other works unless dm'd, discussed, and agreed upon.

[incorrectmarvelquotesss]

— energy —

Warnings: fluff

Summary: Bruce’s pride and Dick’s energy paired with your bet.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

A/N: A quick discussion with my boyfriend made this idea pop up in my head. It’s not my usual format for a drabble, but just going with it. Enjoy!

DC M.List || Navigation M.List || MCU M.List

Just imagining Bruce Wayne and you getting married young, high school sweethearts or something, and adopting Dick at 20.

Just imagine Dick, eight years old and full of unabashed energy, coming into your home, the big and vast Manor, and just running around all day with Bruce chasing him every damn time.

Bruce being able to keep up with his bursts of energy and never complaining about the amount of cardio he spends playing tag with this acrobatic boy.

And one day you offhandedly (totally planned) mentioned he’d never be able to keep up with Dick in the trampoline. And Bruce, never one to back down from a challenge and never letting his stubborn streak die, he takes you on.

Twenty bucks and a few kisses being the reward if he kept up with eight year old Dick.

Challenge accepted.

Bruce straightened up, a confident smirk still on his face. He took off his suit jacket and tossed it onto a nearby chair, rolling up his sleeves and loosening his tie.

“You're on,” he declared, his eyes sparkling with playful determination.

He approached Dick, who was still bouncing on the trampoline, blissfully unaware of the little challenge that you and Bruce had just agreed on.

“Hey, kiddo,” he called out to Dick. “Think you can out-bounce me?”

So it begins.

Just imagine the sight of the usually composed and dignified Bruce Wayne, bouncing on a trampoline with a rowdy eight year old, the springs groaning and protesting under their weight.

Dick would enjoy himself, laughing and giggling like a little maniac, while Bruce would be sweating and panting, his pride not allowing him to back down from the challenge.

And maybe at the end, when Bruce’s legs finally give out under him and he flops forwards unelegantly, landing on his stomach with a small ‘oomph’, Dick would look at you with a beam.

Then promptly jump and land on Bruce’s back unmercifully, lying down on the winded Bruce Wayne’s back.

Bruce Wayne who owed you twenty bucks and his precious 1963 Chevrolet Corvette was now yours for a week.

[ahmadresh]

‼️Please don’t skip taking a look 🍉🇵🇸

Hi, my name is Naomi, and I’m from Texas. I’m organizing this fundraiser on behalf of my friend, Ahmed Abu Al-Rish, who is in Gaza. This fundraiser is meant to help him and his family escape the genocide.

“Hello, my name is Ahmed, 19 years old from Gaza. I finished high school with a high average and a very good grade, and because of the genocide war on Gaza, I was deprived of enrolling in university. I had dreams and ambitions to study photographic design, but I was deprived of all of that because of the genocide war on Gaza. I was living the best days of my youth. But with the beginning of this war, I became unable to live my normal life. At least our warm house sheltered me and my family until it was bombed for the first time, that damned night. Our house has become like a ghost town. We continued to seek refuge from death there until we were besieged and displaced from our safety under fire to a tent (shelter) in the bitter cold of winter, with the lack of basic necessities of life (water pollution, high cost of living, disease, insect infestation,

‏malnutrition,

‏Difficulty of movement, overcrowding), and many other daily difficulties, especially with the significant increase in prices. This was not the first time we had to be displaced. We moved again from a tent in Rafah to another tent in Khan Yunis. I then returned to our destroyed home to repair what we could to find shelter for my family, despite not having all the basic necessities of life (destroyed sanitation infrastructure and water lines, destroying any form of life). Please help me achieve my dream of completing my academic career at university and for my family to survive this genocide and escape to a safe place. And travel ❤️❤️”

Here’s the link: https://gofund.me/c4472150

Donate to Donate to Ahmed's Journey to Safety and Education, organized by Naomi G

‏Hi, my name is Naomi, and I’m from Texas. I’m organizing this fundraiser on… Naomi G needs your support for Donate to Ahmed's Journey to Sa

[arkhamsbrat]

even before he met you jason knew he loved you. the little box hidden under the floorboards at Wayne manor was proof enough. the sheets were folded neatly, stacked in the order he wrote them in an old sneaker box. letter upon letter upon letter to his future spouse that were long forgotten after his death.

when he was younger, he hoped he’d be able to to give it to someone one day. sat and prayed for the day that the right person would come along that he could make happy.

when he came back, he still dreamed about it. jason just didn’t think he deserved it. a love worth those letters would never be in his cards.

then you came along, with your bright smile, sweet words, and patience. god, your patience had to be strong dealing with all of his baggage. he didn’t think he deserved it, but you refused to give him anything else.

was it patience or were you just too stubborn to let go of him? jason didn’t really care about the difference.

he spent nights with you, tangled in the sheets just letting you love him. his mind calms, slowly, with all of your words, your touches- you. it takes nearly a year for him to even believe you really do care about him, without any ulterior motives. he’d found himself too attached to you to worry if there were any, anyways. if he was going to die again, he’d hoped it would be you that killed him.

jason realized he loved you when he woke up to your fingers pressed gently against the pulse points on his neck. sweat beaded along your hairline, eyes wide. “what the-” he couldn’t help the twinge of fear in his gut. what the fuck were you doing?

his hands wrapped around your wrists rougher than he probably should have as he sat up, heart beating against his ribs. he took a deep breath, fighting off every single thought of how you could kill him so easily right now. there was no reason for him to think you’d hurt him, you would never.

your breathing was just as uneven, heart stuttering with every half second. “i-just… had a dream.” you whispered , barely audible against the buzzing of the ceiling fan. “you died. i needed to… make suure.” your eyes flickered away from him as your tears started to fall. the nightmares that plagued your mind normally stopped around jason, but they broke through your safe space tonight.

the look of shock he was giving you made your skin crawl. jason was normally so sweet to you. did you overestimate how much he could handle? you took a deep breath and wiped your cheeks. “i didnt mean to wake you up, i’ll-” jason shook his head and let your wrists go, pulling you to his chest.

he steadied his breathing and shut his eyes tight , chin resting against your head as you sobbed against him, apologizing over and over again because you might lose him now. the fear in your eyes wasn’t because you got caught. it was because you loved him. this was somehow his first realization that it was real for you too. your whispered apologies slowed as he soothed you to sleep “not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart.” he whispered before you fully dozed off. “who’s gonna take care’a you if im gone?”

things between you two felt… different after that. better, but different. it wasn’t until two weeks later that it solidified. Alfred had called him to grab lunch together, and came with a beat up box. jason didn’t recognize it at all until Alfred opened it and pushed it towards him. “I thought it was Master Bruce’s at first, but…” jason scanned over the top letter, eying his old chicken scratch. he shut the box and pulled it close to his chest, wondering if you’d be home before him. “thank you, Alfred..” the old man nodded with a smile. jason knew you were it for him, no questions asked. the letters had always belonged to you.

the minute you were home he sat you down and set the box in front of you. “read them. please…” you eyed the box carefully before reaching out and grabbing the first letter. barely halfway through it and tears were streaming down your cheeks. before he even knew you, he wrote letter on letter on letter about how much he dreamed about being with you. how deep in his soul, he knew he’d find you no matter how long it took. it wasnt chance that these letters found their way to you- it was fate. everything in them perfectly described you, how you spoke to him, acted around him. everything about you is exactly what he’d always wanted.

he eyed you carefully from the opposite end of the couch, fiddling with the edge of his shirt. “so?” he mumbled once you finished. “so!?” you sniffled, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “do you… like them?” you nodded once, fighting back the shock of it all. “jayce, these are…” he let out a nervous laugh. “cheesy? yeah. just thought the person i wanna spend the rest’a my life with should have ‘em.”

reading that was one thing, but jason saying it out loud? “are you sure?” you asked, scooting closer to him. he cupped your cheeks and smiled at you like you hung the stars just for him. “never been so sure about anything else.”

[enviedear]

thinking about jason todd finally becoming a family man. a thing he never truly imagined for himself, never let himself imagine. suddenly he’s got a kid on the way and his fuckin’ motorcycle and your ancient ass car aren’t going to cut it. so now he’s out with you, shopping for the most father-like car you two can find. he’s not used to safe vehicles, even in his own youth.

he's always been a man that subscribed to speed, to thrill, to scraping by with just a cocky smirk and a devil may care attitude that expertly shields the far softer crux of himself. a safe car—one with good mileage and enough cup holders—wasn’t something he’d ever imagined himself shopping for. but here he is, standing next to you in a dealership lot, staring at a lineup of SUVs and sedans with an expression that’s somewhere between disbelief and resignation.

“i feel like i’m betraying myself just by being here.” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes flitting over the sensible, family-friendly options. “i mean, a fuckin’ minivan, babe? this is what my life has come to?”

you can’t help but laugh, hooking your arm through his and leaning into his side. “no one said we had to get a minivan, jay. but…maybe something with four doors—and airbags that actually work.”

“you’re really cutting into my image here.” he teases, though his hand falls to rest on your back, steady and warm. there’s a quiet shift in his tone when he adds, “but i guess i’m not just buying for me anymore, huh?”

he glances at you then, at the way you’re glowing in a way that has nothing to do with the afternoon sun overhead. his hand lingers on your back, sliding down to your hip as his lips twitch into something soft. it’s a look that says more than he ever could out loud—that he’s trying, that he wants to be the man you need him to be. for you. for the baby. for this whole new life he’s never let himself dream of, but now wants so desperately to protect.

you squeeze his arm. “well, you know what they say. nothing’s cooler than being a parent.”

“oh, sure.” he snorts. “because every kid wants to say their old man drives a…what is this, a fuckin’ toyota rav4?”

you laugh again, and it’s the kind of sound that grounds him, makes all the self-doubt and second-guessing fade into something bearable, burdens vanquished. he watches you as you step toward one of the cars, peering through the window at the interior.

“this one’s not so bad!” you say over your shoulder. “looks like it could handle groceries, strollers, maybe even a car seat…or two.”

he follows you, resting his arms on top of the door as he leans in to inspect it with you. “you’re really selling me on this whole ‘dad’ thing, you know that?”

you glance at him, your smile softening. “you’re gonna be really good at it, jay. better than you think.”

he doesn’t say anything at first, just looks at you with those steady, blue-green eyes of his. and then, after a second, he nods, jaw tightening like he’s trying to swallow back something thick and emotional.

“yeah,” he agrees quietly. “maybe i will be.”

and for the first time, it all feels real—not just a looming, abstract idea but something solid and tangible. a life, a family, a future he never thought he could have.

[incorrectmarvelquotesss]

— alexithymia —

(n.) the inability to express your feelings

Warnings: pregnancy, implications of sex, slightest illusions to abortion

Summary: You had to tell Bruce about the consequences of one night.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Female Reader

Word Count: ~1.4k

Based on this post (there’s a chance I’ll write more for this)

DC M.List || Navigation M.List || MCU M.List

Bruce slowly nodded, eyes hardening and the emotion behind them too intense for you to grasp onto you. You stood, in the middle of the vast drawing room that the butler, Alfred, had guided you to, the silence thickening as the silence rang on for a few moments too long for your liking.

The pit in your stomach was growing by the second and you could feel the air in your lungs tightening. When your ribs finally felt like they were being squeezed, Bruce spoke. 

“Okay,” he said, voice cool and calculated, eyes drifting over your body as if trying to find some evidence that you were pregnant. Your eyes met his and you tried to figure out what he might be thinking.

Maybe he thought you were trying to trap a billionaire or maybe he wanted nothing to do with the baby, or you. Maybe he wanted to be a part of the baby’s life and maybe not yours. Maybe he wanted the baby to himself. 

That scenario scared you. Even though this whole pregnancy wasn’t planned, over the last two weeks and the first appointment, you had grown into the idea. It didn’t even matter to you whether or not he wanted to be in your lives, but you wanted the baby now.

You would find a way to support the child and yourself. But knowing the connections and power he held over you, with all the money he had, you knew it would be impossible to win a custody case.

You cleared your throat. “I’m going through with the pregnancy,” you whispered, as if that much wasn’t obvious. You wouldn’t have been here if that wasn’t what you had planned to do. You watched him nod slowly again, jaw clenching this time as his eyes left yours to pin to the floor in front of him. 

“Are you sure?” He asked lowly, his voice betraying a crack of emotion. He shook his head, gaze flitting up to meet yours in question. “Even if I don’t want to be a part of their life?” 

“Even then,” you replied evenly. The sun was dipping in the horizon, coating the drawing room in honey. You could see the hint of a subtle approvement in his eyes, but before you could dwell on it longer, he spoke again. 

“Okay.” It was one simple word that had no other context. You were starting to get annoyed with that word leaving his mouth. You opened your mouth to voice that annoyance, but he beat you to it. “I'll do it.”

You sucked in a sharp breath, the annoyance and nervousness fading behind the relief that made your shoulders loosen. Your brows raised slightly before falling and your eyes flickered around the room, his gaze too intense for you to keep. A shiver ran through you and you rubbed your arms to keep the chill out. 

You met his gaze, swallowing down the urge to snap at him for scaring you. “You’ll do it?” You asked with a hint of confusion and skepticism, not entirely convinced with how easily he accepted it. The stoic expression and the guards in his eyes gave you little to no reading on how he was truly feeling.

Even that night after the gala, he had been the slightest bit vulnerable before he had turned away, gotten dressed, and left the room without another word. It unnerved you. 

His Adam's apple bobbed as he nodded. “I am. I’ll take care of the baby and you. I’ll pay all the expenses that may arise—”

You cut him off with a scoff. “No.” You met his careful gaze, a hint of anger shimmering under your emotions at his implication. You didn’t come here for him to throw money in your direction. “I didn’t come here for you to pay for me and the baby. I can manage that.” 

His eyes dropped to the floor for a moment before meeting yours, confusion now etched into his eyes. “Then why are you—” he started before you cut him off again. 

“I just needed to tell you if you wanted—” you let out a deep sigh, frustration bubbling over the edge. You closed your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose, not believing the fact that he had thought you were here to make him pay.

Out of all the reasons you had to come here to meet him, to tell him that he was going to be a father, your baby’s father, money was not one of them. 

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze, now a little calmer. “I wanted to know if you wanted to be a part of the baby’s life, Bruce,” you said slowly as if explaining something very precious. “Not to pay or take care of expenses, but as just a father. If you wanted to see the milestones—the teething, the first steps, words.” 

He blinked, confusion melting into relief and then something akin to disbelief. “As just a father?” He asked, almost testing the words out on his tongue.

Something about the way he asked tugged at your heartstrings. You knew he was always seeked out by the socialites for his money and power, but he was as reclusive and quiet as they could get. 

You just hadn’t realized the extent of his distrust. He was used to people asking for him to get either his money or power and, no doubt, had jumped to the conclusion that you wanted his money. 

You nodded. “A father. Nothing more or less, Bruce.” You could see the slight hesitation in his posture. The way he shifted his weight ever so slightly and eyes darted to the wall behind you in contemplation. “We could co-parent or have set days or holidays or something. We—we could figure it out. I just—it wouldn’t be fair to not tell you. That's why I came.” 

His blue eyes met yours again, softening at the edges. He nodded slowly, his tense shoulders drooping slightly, his blazer ruffling with the movement.

He took his hands out of his pocket, finally reaching down to the coffee table for the sonograms you had placed there when you had told him about the pregnancy. He stared at the photos, eyes raking down the sonograms. 

“How far along are you?” He asked, eyes not straying from the little blob that was supposed to still grow. He couldn’t see the hands or feet yet, but he seemed to be trying to find them anyway. 

“Around eight weeks.” When you spoke, his eyes darted to you, lips pressing together tightly. 

He nodded. “That would make sense.” His eyes flickered back to the photos, fingers tightening around it slightly, just enough for a crinkle to appear. You knew he was still hesitant to believe you, that you were carrying his baby and that you didn’t want his money. 

“It’s up to you,” you said cautiously, taking half a step closer to the coffee table between the two of you. You saw his eyes flick up and then back down. “Whether or not you want to be there for the baby. It’s up to you entirely.”

And it was. You never came to him with the intention of forcing something he didn’t want. If he didn’t want anything to do with the kid, you wouldn’t blame him. It was supposed to be a one night thing, not a whole lifetime of commitment to a whole other human being. 

You had chosen to be responsible for the growing fetus inside you. You wanted him to choose as well, without any pressure. 

He let out a low hum, hand lowering the sonogram pictures and meeting your gaze. His eyes softened. “I’ll be there for the baby,” he said slowly, nodding at you. “And you.” 

You blinked in surprise. “Bruce, I—“

“And you,” he repeated before you could try and protest. His voice was like steel, resolute and strong. You knew he wouldn’t be taking no for an answer this time. “The baby and you.” 

You could merely nod in response. You didn’t know what would happen or how you two would navigate through the next few months and then some years, but you knew he was determined to make it work. However that would be. 

[heyitslovey]

Hi 👋, My name is Mohammad, and I’m reaching out in a moment of desperate need. I’m a father of three young children living in Gaza, and we are caught in the midst of a catastrophic war. Our home is no longer a safe haven, and the future here seems increasingly uncertain. 💔

I’ve launched a fundraising campaign with the goal of raising $40,000 to relocate my family to a safer place where my children can grow up in peace and have a chance at a brighter future.

Unfortunately, my previous fundraising efforts were abruptly halted when my account was terminated without explanation. However, I remain determined to keep fighting for my family’s safety and well-being. 🫶

If you could take a moment to read our story, consider donating, or simply share our campaign with others, it would make an incredible difference. Every act of kindness, no matter how small, brings us one step closer to safety and a new beginning. 🙏

Thank you for your time, compassion, and support. ❤️‍🩹

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Donate to Help Mohammed's Family From Gaza Rebuild Their Lives, organized by Mohammed Abu Swierh

My name is Mohammad Salem Abu Swierh, a husband and father of… Mohammed Abu Swierh needs your support for Help Mohammed's Family From Gaza R

[magical-reid]

Tying Hearts Into Knots

Pairing: 40s!Bucky x Nurse!Reader

Word Count: 700

Prompt: 29: "“I can braid your hair for you—I mean, only if you want,”

Summary: Bucky Barnes, the confident and charming sergeant, is thrown off balance by the cool and composed nurse tending to him, making him stumble over his words in a way no one has ever seen. As their unlikely friendship grows, the tough soldier finds himself nervous and flustered around her, while she begins to see a side of him that’s more than just swagger and charm.

The low hum of the hospital ward was punctuated by the occasional scrape of a chair leg or the soft murmur of a nurse giving instructions. You were busy checking bandages when you first noticed him—Bucky Barnes, the charming sergeant everyone seemed to swoon over. He had a grin that could disarm even the most stoic of nurses and an air of confidence that could walk right into any room and make it his.

Except, apparently, when it came to you.

You’d caught him staring once or twice, his expression a strange mix of curiosity and… was that nervousness? Hard to tell with a man like Bucky, who usually exuded confidence like it was as easy as breathing. But right now, he sat stiffly at the edge of the cot, his usual smirk absent. His hands fidgeted in his lap, fingers curling and uncurling.

“Sergeant Barnes,” you greeted, pulling his chart off the clipboard. You didn’t look at him right away, too preoccupied with reading the notes. But when you glanced up, his blue eyes were already on you, wide like he’d just been caught red-handed.

“Uh, hey.” He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “You can call me Bucky.”

You smirked at that, writing something down on his chart. “I’ll stick with Sergeant Barnes for now. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he mumbled. Then, after a beat: “Thanks to you.”

That was new. The great Bucky Barnes, nervous and stumbling over his words? You raised an eyebrow at him, unsure if he was pulling your leg. But the way his knee started bouncing, you decided he was serious.

“Well,” you said, moving to check his bandaged arm, “you’ve got a long road ahead, but it’s nothing you can’t handle, right?” You gave him a pointed look, one you often used on stubborn patients.

“Right,” he said, his voice a little too high.

You chuckled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. It was a hot day, and the humidity in the ward wasn’t helping. Your hair kept falling loose from its pins, and you huffed in frustration as you tucked it back again.

Bucky shifted on the cot. “I can braid your hair for you—I mean, only if you want,” he blurted.

You froze, mid-motion, staring at him. His face went red as a beet.

“I—uh—used to do it for my sister,” he stammered, his words tripping over each other. “It’s—it’s not weird or anything, I just—” He cut himself off, looking like he wanted to sink into the floor.

You bit back a smile, deciding to take pity on him. “You braid hair, Sergeant Barnes?”

His laugh was awkward, his eyes darting around like he was searching for an escape. “Yeah, uh, like I said… for my sister. But I’m sure I could, y’know, do a good job if you needed help or something.”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider it. “I might take you up on that.”

Bucky looked like he wasn’t sure if you were joking or not, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed nervously. “O-okay.”

Leaning closer, you dropped your voice. “You know, I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you nervous, Sergeant.”

“I’m not nervous,” he said too quickly, his shoulders straightening.

“Really? Your face is redder than Private O’Malley’s sunburn,” you teased.

He opened his mouth, then shut it, and you couldn’t hold back your laughter. For a man who could charm his way out of anything, he was absolutely flustered.

“I’ll tell you what,” you said, your voice softening. “If I ever need a hairdresser, you’ll be the first person I call.”

Bucky’s lips quirked into a smile, some of his usual swagger creeping back in. “Careful, doll. I might hold you to that.”

You shook your head, stepping back. “Rest up, Sergeant.”

As you walked away, you could feel his eyes on you, and when you glanced back, sure enough, there he was—grinning like an idiot.

You couldn’t help but grin back.

[mostly-imagines]

You knew Damian would take his time getting adjusting to your presence. Of course he would. He’s even slower to warm up than Jason, you knew it before you’d even met him. So you’d had no idea you were even within a five year shot of him even liking you, let alone trusting you.

In spite of it nearing one in the morning, you laid atop your bed covers, watching your shows with passing interest. You’re waiting up for Jason like you usually do, you have a hard time sleeping not knowing if he’s okay or not. He hates it when you do, he says just because he has to be up all night doesn’t mean you do. Unfortunately for him, you’re nothing if not stubborn.

A clatter from the living room has you perking up—Jason’s back. It’s a little early for him to be home already though, and he’s not usually so loud upon re entry unless he’s hurt.

You stand quickly, tossing the book aside, and mentally prepare yourself to tend to injuries.

You open the door to the dark room, the only light available coming from the dim lamp in the kitchen and the moonlight through the open window.

It takes your eyes a moment to adjust, scanning the room only to find a figure much, much smaller than expected.

“Damian?”

He looks at you through the darkness, silent. You approach him slowly.

“Hey. Are you hurt?” You ask, getting a bit concerned. Of all Jason’s brothers, Damian is the least likely to drop in, especially unharmed.

“No.” Damian’s always standoff-ish, but he’s exhibiting a particularly strange energy right now. You wonder if he needs something Jason could help with.

“Jason’s not here,” you tell him, watching him closely for any sign of what’s going on.

“I know.” His words are short, measured.

If he knows, that means he was with him tonight. Then why would he come here?

“Is everything okay?”

He says nothing. His gaze is lasered onto a panel of wood among the floorboards, jaw clenched.

You tilt your head. “Do you want to stay here tonight?”

He hesitates to answer but it seems like he does want to stay. You don’t know Damian anywhere near as well as Jason does, but you can’t imagine he’s ever seen or shown much vulnerability before.

He seems to decide on biting the bullet and nodding, yes. You make your way around the couch and sit down, looking to him.

Slowly, he does the same, in absolute silence. He sits stiff. His shoulders are hunched up and his body is tightly pressed into the smallest space possible. The way his posture curls in on him makes him look even tinier.

You’ve never seen him anywhere close to upset before, not like this. Most of the time you see him he’s an angry upset, but this…it’s a sad upset. Almost scared.

You fold your legs onto the couch, pulling a blanket off from the ledge behind you. You drape it over Damians shoulders, enveloping him in warmth to contrast the icy bite of the night. He remains still.

You slowly move your hand up to his hair, treading carefully. He’s watching you out of the corner of his eye, though he makes no moves to stop you. You take that as the closest to a blessing you’re going to get from him, so you continue on.

You brush his hair back lightly, fingers threading through his hair with a loving gentleness.

“Damian,” You whisper.

He doesn’t look at you. Even in the dark, you can see his breathing labored and his eyes starting to well over.

You turn to face him and shift a little closer, taking his hand in yours. His chin lowers and his stare hardens, trying desperately not to cry.

You bring your free hand to the far side of his head, gently nudging him your way. He folds immediately, turning to you and throwing himself into your chest, tears flowing violently.

He struggles to breathe right, choking on his sobs as he hugs you tight. You hold his head against you, stroking his hair as he weeps.

You hold him like that for almost half an hour, allowing him as much time to cry as he needs.

He ends up curled up on your lap at an awkward angle, head resting on your thigh. The shaking of his body slows over time, his eyes fluttering shut from the ache of the tears. Not long after, his breathing levels out and his body completely relaxes into sleep.

You continue petting his head, mind wandering around to what could’ve happened. Jason had told you once that the only thing Damian seems to hold in high regard is Bruce, and his mood can easily sway Damian’s.

It’s almost three am when Jason slides in through the window, landing gracefully into a kneel. He tugs off his helmet before looking up and noticing you on the couch.

A split second of a smile before he glances down and sees Damian asleep on your lap, his arms still wrapped around your waist. His mouth drops and his brows furrows as he stands, examining his brother.

“What the hell?” He says quietly, looking back up to you.

You shake your head and shrug your shoulders, “I don’t know. Did something happen on patrol?”

Jason’s eyes drift down to Damian again. “I mean Bruce kind of yelled at him, so.”

“That’ll do it.”

He nods, coming to sit on the opposite side of the couch, careful not to wake him. He observes his brother's vice grip around your middle and your much more gentle hold around his.

“He let you hug him?”

“He hugged me.”

“He what?”

[user6161234-deactivated20250518]

— A BOY WHO’S JACKED AND KIND

jason todd x reader summary: you trick jason into participating in a certain tiktok trend a/n: a little drabble because I’ve been doomscrolling on tiktok and jason is most definitely jacked and kind and I need him desperately

You can tell that Jason is getting more annoyed by the second. He can’t continue reading his book for longer than five minutes at a time before glancing up at you from across the room with a curious frown. You move around the kitchen fixing yourself an iced coffee while absentmindedly scrolling through your phone and occasionally letting out a laugh or smiling.

By the sixth time you let out a snort, Jason decided he’s had enough and shuts his book, flinging it onto the coffee table before walking over to join you in the kitchen. “What’s making you smile that isn’t me, babe?”

“Huh?” You pull your eyes away from your phone to see Jason attempting a casual pose, leaning against the refrigerator, but he’s borderline pouting. You bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing at him and shake your head. “It’s nothing, just some videos.”

“What kind of videos?” he asks quietly, reaching out to start playing with a strand of your hair that’s escaped your claw clip as if by reflex. He’s still frowning slightly and you roll your eyes, deciding to put him out of his misery.

“Just a cute TikTok trend,” you explain, pulling one of the videos up as Jason peers at your phone eagerly. “See, you get your boyfriend to see if he can pick you up and put you on his shoulder. Some of them are really cute, but look, there’s some who can’t hack it.”

Jason nods slowly in revelation, still engrossed in the rest of the video that’s currently playing before he huffs and shakes his head. “How the hell is that guy struggling? Easy work,” he mumbles.

You’re about to tell him that not everyone has that Red Hood strength on their side before a plan starts forming in your head. Suppressing a smirk, you glance up at him and raise your eyebrows. “Oh yeah? You think you could do it better?”

Jason looks at you with a blank expression. “Was that a joke, or…?”

“I know you’re strong,” you say, shrugging as you nonchalantly take a sip of your coffee, turning away to hide your grin as you walk over to the living room. Jason is hot on your heels as expected. “I just don’t think you could do this as easily as you think.”

“Let’s go,” he says, clapping his hands together. You slowly turn around and tilt your head in questioning. “Let’s make the video, c’mon.”

Hook, line and sinker.

“Alright,” you sigh, setting down your coffee to prop your phone up against it. You pull up the app. “If you insist. Do you want your face in it or should we do it facing backwards?”

“I’ll just cover my face with my hand,” he waves you off, rocking on his heels impatiently. “I only need one of ‘em to lift you.”

He says it so matter-of-fact, and the knowledge that he’s not actually trying to boast has your mouth going dry. It doesn’t help that he’s now shucking off his hoodie and wearing a short-sleeve black t-shirt. His biceps flex as he flings the hoodie onto the couch and you resist the urge to forget about the video and pounce on him. Just for a second.

Clearing your throat, you busy yourself with pressing record and turning a timer on to allow you to step back towards Jason.

“Moment of truth,” you say, challenging him with your doubtful expression and he merely smirks. “Try not to pull any muscles.”

Jason snorts and goes to cover his face with one of his hands, the other already seeking out your waist.

“Wait, not yet!” you remove his arm to place it back at his side and he peeks through his other hand to let you see him rolling his eyes. When the timer is done, you allow yourself to grin, unrestrained and count to 3 in your head. “Okay, go.”

Before the audio has even played halfway through, Jason bends down slightly to factor in your height compared to his and his one large hand grips your hip to lift you off the ground. It feels effortless as he settles you on his shoulder, steady as a rock and you yelp, not expecting him to be that quick.

The rest of the video is you squealing as Jason unexpectedly spins you around in a circle, his one hand gripping your thigh as the other still covers his face. “Jay!” you shriek, looping your arms around his neck to steady yourself. The only reason you’re unsteady is because Jason’s shoulders are shaking with silent laughter.

The video stops recording when the audio ends and you tell Jason as much, making him drop the hand covering his face to grin up at you. He raises an eyebrow as if to say ‘I told you so’, before flexing his free arm for dramatic effect.

“See?” he says, rubbing small circles on your thigh with his thumb and talking up at you with all the ease of talking to you as if you were on the ground in front of him. “What did I say? Easy work, babe.”

“Big show off,” you say, wrinkling your nose at him as you begin to slide down his body. You go slowly, considering the man is basically a human skyscraper and he seems to take advantage of the fact, hands shamelessly roaming up your legs and your sides. He hooks your legs over his own waist, making you cling to him like a koala.

“Can I help you?” you ask, squinting at him when he doesn’t say anything, choosing to just stare at your face instead, drinking you in. You break his concentration by leaning in to press a short, sweet kiss onto his lips that he chases when you pull away. “Earth to Jason?”

“Y’know, I’d be more inclined to participate in your stupid TikTok trends if they all end like this,” Jason mutters, running his nose along your jaw and down your neck before nestling his face there. He doesn’t initiate anything, simply wanting to bask in the comfort of your skin.

You grin at the successful ending to your grand plan, disentangling yourself from your boyfriend to jump down, ignoring his groans of protest.

You run to your phone to save the video to your drafts - no one else needs to see how good Jason’s arms look in a tight black tee - and pull up your folder of couple TikToks. “Oh, well, if you’re finally offering,” you start saying, circling Jason’s wrist with your hand and pulling him onto the couch. He sighs, previously sweet smile being replaced by something skeptical. “I have a whole bunch of ideas.”

“This feels like a set-up.”

© angelfic 2024.

[dollishmiso]

# “WHY ARE YOU CRYING LAIN.” ── .✦ ( what it takes for batboys to cry about their s/o btw I don’t see this as angst!reader but I’m writing a angst fic soon!! )

a/n: this is a request by (here) anyways 620 followers under a month?!?! What the hell tysmm this was shocking to wake up to anywayss um yeah here, I genuinely think this was like only a general hcs of what only batboys cry over but I turned it into like a s/o hc too so sorry tags: ( batboys x s/o )

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Losing You, Even Momentarily: Dick is the type to wear his heart on his sleeve, so the idea of losing you whether you’re hurt, missing, or even distant emotionally breaks him in ways he doesn’t know how to hide. If you were ever critically injured during a mission or got caught in the crossfire or a health scare, he’d hold you in his arms, tears streaming down his face as he begs, “Don’t you dare leave me. I can’t lose you. You’re everything to me.”

When You’re Hurt Emotionally: Dick is empathetic to his core. If he ever caught you crying, struggling silently, or feeling like you couldn’t talk to him, he’d break down too. “Why didn’t you come to me? You’re not alone—you’re never alone.” His voice would crack as he hugs you, feeling helpless because he wants to fix it but doesn’t know how.

A Fight That Goes Too Far: Dick hates arguing, but sometimes even he loses control. If words were exchanged that hurt you, he’d cry after you left, clutching his face in his hands because he knows he messed up. He’d spend the entire night trying to fix it because the thought of you being upset because of him kills him. (He has a bit of people pleasing tendencies like me 😭)

JASON TODD ── .✦

Thinking He Doesn’t Deserve You: Jason has deep-seated feelings of unworthiness, and if he ever felt like you deserved better or like you might leave because he’s “too broken,” he’d quietly lose it. You’d find him sitting on the edge of the bed, tears in his eyes as he mutters, “Why are you even with me? I don’t want to ruin you too.”

You in Danger: Jason prides himself on protecting the people he loves, but if there were ever a moment where he couldn’t save you where you were hurt or out of his reach he’d shatter. Holding your unconscious body, he’d whisper through gritted teeth and tears, “This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’m sorry—I should’ve been faster. Stronger.”

Fighting and Losing Control: Jason fears becoming the worst version of himself. If you ever fought and he lost his temper, saying something he didn’t mean, he’d be crushed afterward. He’d cry silently in his room, replaying the fight over and over in his head, scared you wouldn’t forgive him.

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

You Pulling Away: Tim doesn’t always know how to balance his work and love for you. If he noticed you drifting away or feeling neglected because of his vigilante life, he’d hit a breaking point. One night, he’d find himself sitting alone, staring at his phone, tears silently falling as he whispers, “I don’t want to lose you. I’ll do better—I promise.”

When You’re in Pain: Tim’s logical brain often protects him from his emotions, but seeing you in pain—physically or emotionally would be his undoing. He’d try to keep it together for you, but once he’s alone, he’d sit at his desk, head in his hands as sobs wrack his body because he hates seeing the person he loves suffer.

If You’re Gone (Even Temporarily): If you ever went missing or were presumed dead, Tim would break in ways no one else would see. He’d bury himself in work, desperately trying to find you, but in the quiet hours, he’d collapse on the floor surrounded by papers and maps, tears streaming down his face as he murmurs, “Please come back to me. Please.”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Failing to Protect You: Damian is fiercely protective of the people he loves, and if you were ever hurt on his watch, it would destroy him. He’d stay at your bedside, barely speaking, but his tears would fall silently as he holds your hand and says, “You are strong so much stronger than me. I am sorry I let this happen.”

Realizing You’re Hurt by Him: Damian doesn’t always know how to express himself, and if he ever unintentionally hurt you—through sharp words or coldness—he’d crumble. He’d isolate himself, his back to the door as he mutters to himself, “I am unworthy of their love. I am no better than the monsters I fight.”

If You Were Gone: Damian doesn’t cry easily, but if he lost you, he’d lock himself away for days. No one would hear his sobs as he grips something of yours—a sweater, a necklace and whispers, “I failed you. I should have been stronger. I would trade anything to bring you back.”

GENERAL ( WITHOUT LOSING YOU OR GETTING HURT YK? ) ── .✦

Dick: He’d cry watching you do something incredibly mundane—like laughing at a joke or helping a stranger because he realizes how lucky he is to have you. The thought of a life without you, even for a second, shakes him to his core.

Jason: He’d cry when he thinks about how you’ve accepted him so completely. “You don’t look at me like I’m broken,” he’d say through tears, pulling you into a hug. “You love me. No one’s ever loved me like this before.”

Tim: He’d cry in relief after a near-miss—maybe you were almost hurt on patrol, but you’re okay. He’d break down in your arms, holding you tightly. “I can’t lose you. You’re everything I didn’t know I needed.”

Damian: He’d cry quietly while watching you sleep, overwhelmed by how much he loves you. He’d brush your hair from your face and murmur, “You are my heart, beloved. Without you, I would have none.”

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

The Fear of Losing You: Bruce has already lost so much his parents, allies, and people he couldn’t save. If you were ever gravely injured or put in harm’s way, he’d be stoic at first, tending to your wounds or making sure you’re stable. But when the danger is over and he’s alone, the walls would finally break. He’d sit in the Batcave, hands trembling, staring at the blood on his gloves and whispering, “I can’t lose you too. I couldn’t survive that.” His tears would fall silently because he rarely lets himself cry but for you, the thought of losing you would be unbearable.

When You Break Down First: Bruce is emotionally guarded, but if he ever saw you crying really crying because of something he caused or something he failed to protect you from, it would destroy him. He’d pull you into his arms, his voice shaky as he mutters, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I swear on everything, I will never let this happen again.” When you’ve fallen asleep, he’d sit beside you, quietly crying to himself because the person he loves more than anything is in pain.

During a Rare, Heated Argument: Bruce doesn’t lose control often, but when he does, his words can cut deep. If a fight escalated to the point where you walked away, leaving him standing there in silence, the guilt would eat him alive. He’d find himself sitting alone in the dark manor, hands in his hair as he whispers, “I can’t believe I let that happen. I promised I’d be better.” He wouldn’t hesitate to apologize immediately, but he’d cry later when he realized how close he came to pushing you away.

Realizing You’re the Light in His Life: Bruce is haunted by his past, and sometimes, the weight of his mission makes him forget the beauty in life. But when he sees you—laughing, smiling, or simply existing—he realizes you are the brightest thing in his world. He wouldn’t cry in front of you, but in a rare, quiet moment alone, he’d sit in his study with tears in his eyes, overwhelmed. “I don’t deserve them. But I won’t let anything happen to them. Ever.”

If You Were Gone: Bruce would completely unravel. He’s already built his life around loss, but you? You were his hope, his reason to believe in something beyond the cowl. Without you, he’d wander the manor like a ghost, sitting by your favorite chair or staring at a photo of you for hours. In the dead of night, when no one is around, he’d finally let himself grieve—hands gripping the edges of a desk, shoulders shaking as he whispers your name like a prayer. (Madonna ref?)

MOMENTS WHERE BRUCE GETS EMOTIONAL ── .✦

Seeing You Safe After a Scare: If you ever came home late or after a dangerous night out, Bruce would hold you tightly, kissing the top of your head and murmuring, “You’re home. You’re okay. That’s all that matters.” His voice would crack slightly, betraying the emotion he tries to hide.

When You Remind Him of His Humanity: Bruce isn’t always good with words, but when you’re there—kissing him goodnight, teasing him about his brooding, or cooking something terribly but with love he remembers what happiness feels like. He’d quietly brush a tear away as he watches you, thinking, “They make this life worth living.”

If You Call Him Out on His Guilt: If Bruce ever tried pushing you away because he thought you’d be safer without him, and you confronted him with a heartfelt speech about loving him no matter what, he’d break. He’d pull you into his arms, tears falling as he whispers, “You don’t know how much you mean to me. I can’t lose you. I need you.”

[pellucid-constellations]

Across Town

Pairing: Line Cook!Azriel x Reader

Summary: A coffee date with Azriel. It's snowing. He doesn't seem to mind.

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: Major fluff

a/n: Here's a little something since I can't post my longer fics rn (finals 🥲) I rarely ever post fluffy warm things like this so enjoy it while you can 🫵 This can be read on its own!! But the rest of this AU can be found in my masterlist right there ⬇ (This takes place pretty early in their relationship. Everything is out of order with this AU hehe)

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

Azriel wrapped his hands around the cups on the counter, the leather of his jacket feeble compared to the heat inside the cardboard. His nose was slightly red and his hair was windswept from the brief walk inside, but any remaining chill from the weather dissipated when he caught your entrance into the cafe. 

You beamed at him, a cool breeze sweeping in behind you. The bell atop the door sang as you shook your jacket from your shoulders, and Azriel quickly set the two cups on an open table to help you in the process. He stole a kiss to the side of your head as he slid it down your arms. 

“Hi,” Azriel murmured against your hair. 

“Hi,” you chirped back, pressing your hands to his chest to lean up and peck his lips. Azriel hung your jacket on his arm and guided you to the table with his other hand. 

You pretended to ignore the blush dusting his cheeks. 

“Did you make it alright?” he asked, pressing your chair closer to the table before taking his own seat. 

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Just a little windy but nothing too crazy.” 

“I should have picked you up.” 

You playfully rolled your eyes and cupped the drink in front of you. It warmed your hands and you didn’t have to look at the writing on the side to know it was exactly what you wanted. The warmth moved to bloom within your chest under Azriel’s adoring gaze. 

“My dorm is literally 15 minutes in the opposite direction.” 

Azirel hummed. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

“I would have,” you emphasized, leaning back in your chair with a huff that made Azriel grin. “You’re always driving me around. I’ve turned you into a rideshare.” 

“I love driving you around.” 

Your face heated to match the temperature of the cafe. You attempted to hide your bashful expression behind your coffee, but Azriel practically lived for how shy you always got around him, so he tilted his head to keep you in his sights. 

“What’s the matter, baby?” he almost cooed. The smirk plastered on his face was ridiculously attractive and the slight blush on his face remained, making it impossible to collect your bearings. 

“Nothing,” you mumbled into your drink.

He only hummed in response, raising his brows as he sipped his black coffee. This spark in your chest had started growing the minute you spotted his bike outside the cafe. Your feelings for him were insane and almost incongruent with the short two months you’d been dating, but it was so easy to love Azriel. He was attentive and hot and handled you so delicately. It always gave you whiplash when he came to pick you up from class with his tattoos and motorcycle and massive biceps and then pressed soft kisses to your cheek and buckled your helmet in with care. 

But maybe he didn’t even love you. 

Maybe. 

You really hoped he did though. 

He made the best omelets. 

“How’s your drink?” Azriel asked, pulling you out of the tug-of-war happening in your mind. 

“Really good,” you smiled back. “Have you considered getting an espresso machine at the restaurant? I think it’d be a hit.” 

He leaned back, hooking his arm over the chair beside him. “But then how would I convince you to go on dates with me across town? You’d insist we just stay at Velaris and I can barely see your eyes under the lighting there.” 

You almost coughed on your drink as you took a poorly timed sip. Damn him and his smooth words. It seemed impossible for your face to get any warmer than it already was, but somehow, he made it possible.

“You are the biggest flirt, Azriel,” you scolded, your tone free-flowing and light to match the ambiance of the cafe

He only hummed in response and kicked forward to brush the hair back that had slipped from your hair tie—both from the wind and you nervously tugging at the stands under his gaze. Azriel’s eyes were alight with adoration as he let it graze over your face, huffing out a small, breathless laugh at the smile you were desperately trying to contain. 

You couldn’t look too into him, right?

“Should probably wear a hat when it’s this cold. And a scarf too.” 

You pretended to think on his subtle admonishment. “I guess I could consider that.” 

“If you want to ride my bike I’m also going to require a thicker jacket,” Azriel added, still leaning in close to the table as he spoke. 

You opened your mouth in shocked offense. “I love that jacket and it keeps me plenty warm.” 

“You’ll be freezing, baby. Can’t have you getting sick, can we?” 

You narrowed your eyes but didn’t argue—mostly due to the effect his small terms of endearment always seemed to have on you. Baby, angel, sweetheart; he used them sparingly, almost as if testing the waters. Or maybe he knew how flustered they made you and he wanted to have productive conversations every once in a while. 

A gentle flow of conversation fell over the table, words punctuated by the whirring of espresso machines and the occasional ding of convection ovens. The blush on your face was permanent and quite embarrassing, but Azriel didn’t seem to be faring much better, his eyes shifting and his hand coming up to run through his hair with every small joke you made. 

At some point, Azriel had concluded that you hadn’t eaten breakfast yet and set off to get you a croissant. You watched his imposing figure in the otherwise quaint cafe as he towered over the barista and politely ordered you too many pastries. “For you to take back to your dorm,” he would tell you later, “I know you don’t have enough food there.”

He placed another kiss on your temple when he returned with the bag and plate, holding your head steady with his hand which was entirely unnecessary, but Azriel always seemed to touch you far more than what seemed necessary. 

“Do you work today?” you asked, digging into the croissant with vigor. 

Seated once more, Azriel responded yes and asked how your food was and stared at you as if eating a croissant was the most interesting thing on earth. Beyond the doors of the cafe, a light dusting of snow blanketed the street signs and filled crevices within the asphalt of the road. Azriel could see the gentle white from just over your shoulder, and once again eyed your jacket on the chair beside him. 

Azriel decided you would just have to wear his jacket when he took you back to the dorms. You’d be swimming in it and protest to no end, but Azriel was usually very good at being convincing, and he wasn’t about to let his girl be cold on their ride home. 

You were none the wiser to the snow or the decisions cementing in Azriel’s head. The music in the cafe had turned up just a few notches, gentle piano the backdrop to the story you were telling, and you were too lost in Azriel’s soft smile to think about anything else. 

[sunmoonandeddie]

feelings are fatal masterlist

pairing: bucky barnes x reader, past steve rogers x reader

summary: After the events of Endgame, you struggle to come to terms with what you’ve lost, though you’re learning that you still have something to gain.

warnings: swearing, violence, endgame spoilers

playlist

one

two

three

four

five

six

seven

eight

nine

ten

eleven

twelve

thirteen

fourteen

fifteen

sixteen

seventeen

eighteen

nineteen

twenty

twenty-one

twenty-two

twenty-three

epilogue

[ussgallifrey]

(She Moves With) Shameless Wonder [MasterList]

✦ Summary: Your badge clearly said SHIELD consultant, so you weren't entirely sure where Fury was getting this whole make you an Avenger idea from. But you had a feeling it might have something to do with the recent discovery of an artifact at the bottom of the Arctic Sea.

✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Greek mythology, language, long fic, slow burn, superhero!Reader.

✦ Word Count: ~415 - 550k

✦ Story Playlist: Here

✦ Cinematic Soundtrack: Here

✦ Face Claims: Part One || Part Two

Saints, Feints ↬ Minerva / Just a Girl / Young God ↫ - Ch. 01: Agent Seven - Ch. 02: On Thin Ice - Ch. 03: The Retreat

Couldn't Hold Me Back ↬ Seven Nation Army / Fight Like a Girl / Glory and Gore / Centuries ↫ - Ch. 04: Coulson in Kolkata - Ch. 05: Reunions - Ch. 06: Shattered Illusions - Ch. 07: Double O Seven - Ch. 08: Assemble - Ch. 09: Seeing Double - Ch. 10: Parting of Ways

In The Age of Icons ↬ Start a War / Feel Something / Silvertongue / Immortals ↫ - Ch. 11: Whiskey Tango Foxtrot - Ch. 12: Matter of Trust - Ch. 13: A Wanted Man - Ch. 14: Allied Assistance - Ch. 15: The Causeway - Ch. 16: Welcome to Olympus - Ch. 17: In The Arena - Ch. 18: A New Mission Begins

And You Decided This ↬ Hide & Seek / Northern Lights / The Archer / Ophelia / Medusa / Golden / Style / I'm With You ↫ - Ch. 19: On The River Vistula - Ch. 20: Legends and Legions - Ch. 21: A Party to Remember - Ch. 22: Breaking and Entering - Ch. 23: Abominations - Ch. 24: Going Off-Grid - Ch. 25: Safety in Numbers - Ch. 26: Sokovia - Ch. 27: Moving On

In Search of Your Glory ↬ The Last of the Real Ones / Sunlight / Athena / King and Lionheart / The Night We Met ↫ - Ch. 28: A Sense of Normalcy- Ch. 29: Ultimate Ultimatums - Ch. 30: Between the Crosshairs - Ch. 31: When Faced with a Choice - Ch. 32: Arrest of an Icon - Ch. 33: Devil in Hell - Ch. 34: Broken Bonds - Ch. 35: No Trust - Ch. 36: Where Loyalty Goes to Die

The Future's In Our Hands ↬ Dear Fellow Traveler / She Lit a Fire / Like I Can / Foreigner's God / Things We Lost in the Fire ↫ - Ch. 37: Diverging Lines - Ch. 38: This Is No Man - Ch. 39: A Train to Knowhere - Ch. 40: Crash Landing - Ch. 41: Charge - Ch. 42: The Cost - Ch. 43: Adrift - Ch. 44: Ill Tidings - Ch. 45: The Council

A Sinner Like Me ↬ Hello My Old Heart / Never Let Me Go / I Found / I Need My Girl / Broken / Heavenly / Angela / Battle Born / Hold My Girl / Constellations / Electric Love ↫ - Ch. 46: Royal Responsibilities - Ch. 47: Crenzalon IV - Ch. 48: Long Overdue - Ch. 49: Star-Bound - Ch. 50: A Promise

'Til The Day's End ↬ Bird Song / Infinity / Glitter & Gold / In Our Bedroom After the War / Spark ↫ - Ch. 51: Just Visiting - Ch. 52: Stranger Than Fiction - Ch. 53: Come Together - Ch. 54: Planning For The End of The World - Ch. 55: Down The Rabbit Hole - Ch. 56: Whatever It Takes

Last Updated: August 7, 2024