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Might do one or two more parts, just cause I recently watched Brave and this came from it 😭
Barbarian King!Simon Riley threw a festival every year when spring came. It wasn’t really that he liked the festival or enjoyed throwing them, but it revitalised the kingdom and you enjoyed them so whatever you enjoyed, he did. It was kinda an unsaid rule from even the beginning of your marriage
Barbarian King!Simon Riley reluctantly invites the three clans to a festival. He really really really didn’t want to, but you thought it would foster connection again and Maxwell was getting older. These would be his subjects one day and Max needed to nurture relationships and learn their specific customs. (You had made it very clear early on that you refused to send any of your kids off to get married to secure alliances. From your own experiences, you knew what good could come from it, but you never would wish the fear you had gone through upon your children. Simon readily agreed. He would never send his daughters away to marriages like your horrible father did.)
Barbarian King!Simon Riley got just a touch competitive with the other leaders of the clan. He would sit on his throne until, inevitably, Lord John MacTavish would throw out a good-natured insult towards his King
Barbarian King!Simon Riley let out a low growl and scoff. His head would tilt towards you and you would put your hand on his. “Darling,” you murmured, smirking. No matter how much he scowled, you knew what would happen. It wasn’t long before your husband was in personal combat with the Lords Russ, Sanderson, and MacTavish
Barbarian King!Simon Riley wasn’t invincible, however. When Maxwell was seven and the triplets five, Simon gave you the fright of your life. He was off on a hunting trip when one day, a messenger came screaming into the palace. You were eating breakfast with your kids and even though there were children present, the messenger came in yelling about the King’s injury and losing blood. Apparently, a bear had attacked the hunting party whilst they were out in the early morning. Simon had lost his left leg from the middle of the calf down. Whilst worrying about your husband, you now had two crying kids, a worried Maxwell, and the third triplet who was trying to conceal her terror, but determined not to cry
Barbarian King!Simon Riley was brought back to the palace on a cart. He was laid in the back, a white bandage (slowly turning red) wrapped around his stump. You refused to let your children see him, ushering them away into the care of a nursemaid before hurrying to Simon’s side
Barbarian King!Simon Riley was the one to comfort you when you began crying. “Are you okay?” you demanded. “I can’t believe you got hurt! What happened? You told me you wouldn’t get hurt!” You placed a hand on his chest, letting him hold the other one, as doctors swarmed around
Barbarian King!Simon Riley raised a brow. “Birdie,” he said in a low voice. “‘M okay. The doctors gave me ale to numb the pain. What’s gone is gone. I’m alive.” You kept repeating that to yourself, he’s alive, he’s alive before Simon asked, “where’re the kids?”
Barbarian King!Simon Riley took six weeks to heal the wound. He was kept under close observation and care by the doctors, ointment and medicine forced onto him (which he was not appreciative about – the only thing keeping him in line was your stern glare and lectures about health)
Barbarian King!Simon Riley refused to be on bedrest, however. You had to berate him constantly for trying to leave his bed but he just grumbled how he wanted to be back in his marriage bed, not this medical one. Luckily for him, he had three agents of chaos on his side
Barbarian King!Simon Riley had fathered triplet girls, after all, and they listened to no one, not even you. You had told them to please be nice to their recovering father and they took that as do every mischievous thing he asked them to
Barbarian King!Simon Riley collected cookies, stuffed animals, medical equipment, fairytale books, and a bunch of other oddities such as hair from a guard's moustache. You would walk in and he would be sitting there, arms full of stuff. The triplets would be sitting on his lap, pleased with themselves
Barbarian King!Simon Riley didn’t take long to adjust to his new wooden stump as a leg. He was a soldier, after all, and was used to adapting quickly to new situations. He had other scars to prove it. Honestly, he was quite pleased with himself that he had managed to fend off a bear and only lose one leg
Barbarian King!Simon Riley didn’t argue when you fussed over him for the next two months. “Come here, lovie,” he would constantly say, leaning in for yet another kiss. Yet, when you realised he was acclimating perfectly fine, the fretting stopped, along with the exaggerated affection
Barbarian King!Simon Riley joked that he would have to get injured again just so he could have you all to himself. You quickly shut him up with a glare
Barbarian King!Simon Riley adored his kids, as previously stated. He was consistently frustrated with the triplets, yet couldn’t help but smirk at whatever trouble they got into. What was the biggest realisation, however, was noticing that Maxwell wasn’t as eager to fight as his father. Your son much preferred his quiet time, carving or even sewing alongside you. While a bit puzzled, Simon still proudly displayed his son’s carvings that ranged from animals to wildlife. (Max even carved a new wooden stump for his father one holiday season, which Simon wore proudly.) When Maxwell got into smithing, Simon was all too pleased to join him in the forge. You didn’t expect your only son to be a fascinated blacksmith, but who could choose the interests of their children?
Barbarian King!Simon Riley was aware that your family was growing up and had a hard time with it. It seemed like only yesterday you were sitting in the front of his saddle as he took you to your new home. Things were happening too fast, it seemed. His kids were growing up and he was getting grey hair (you still looked amazing to him however) and if he could pause time, he would. Yet, he took consolation in the fact that some things never changed because every night, you would still slip into bed next to him and he would toss an arm over you to bring you close before beginning to snore
Might do one or two more parts, just cause I recently watched Brave and this came from it 😭
Barbarian King!Simon Riley threw a festival every year when spring came. It wasn’t really that he liked the festival or enjoyed throwing them, but it revitalised the kingdom and you enjoyed them so whatever you enjoyed, he did. It was kinda an unsaid rule from even the beginning of your marriage
Barbarian King!Simon Riley reluctantly invites the three clans to a festival. He really really really didn’t want to, but you thought it would foster connection again and Maxwell was getting older. These would be his subjects one day and Max needed to nurture relationships and learn their specific customs. (You had made it very clear early on that you refused to send any of your kids off to get married to secure alliances. From your own experiences, you knew what good could come from it, but you never would wish the fear you had gone through upon your children. Simon readily agreed. He would never send his daughters away to marriages like your horrible father did.)
Barbarian King!Simon Riley got just a touch competitive with the other leaders of the clan. He would sit on his throne until, inevitably, Lord John MacTavish would throw out a good-natured insult towards his King
Barbarian King!Simon Riley let out a low growl and scoff. His head would tilt towards you and you would put your hand on his. “Darling,” you murmured, smirking. No matter how much he scowled, you knew what would happen. It wasn’t long before your husband was in personal combat with the Lords Russ, Sanderson, and MacTavish
Barbarian King!Simon Riley wasn’t invincible, however. When Maxwell was seven and the triplets five, Simon gave you the fright of your life. He was off on a hunting trip when one day, a messenger came screaming into the palace. You were eating breakfast with your kids and even though there were children present, the messenger came in yelling about the King’s injury and losing blood. Apparently, a bear had attacked the hunting party whilst they were out in the early morning. Simon had lost his left leg from the middle of the calf down. Whilst worrying about your husband, you now had two crying kids, a worried Maxwell, and the third triplet who was trying to conceal her terror, but determined not to cry
Barbarian King!Simon Riley was brought back to the palace on a cart. He was laid in the back, a white bandage (slowly turning red) wrapped around his stump. You refused to let your children see him, ushering them away into the care of a nursemaid before hurrying to Simon’s side
Barbarian King!Simon Riley was the one to comfort you when you began crying. “Are you okay?” you demanded. “I can’t believe you got hurt! What happened? You told me you wouldn’t get hurt!” You placed a hand on his chest, letting him hold the other one, as doctors swarmed around
Barbarian King!Simon Riley raised a brow. “Birdie,” he said in a low voice. “‘M okay. The doctors gave me ale to numb the pain. What’s gone is gone. I’m alive.” You kept repeating that to yourself, he’s alive, he’s alive before Simon asked, “where’re the kids?”
Barbarian King!Simon Riley took six weeks to heal the wound. He was kept under close observation and care by the doctors, ointment and medicine forced onto him (which he was not appreciative about – the only thing keeping him in line was your stern glare and lectures about health)
Barbarian King!Simon Riley refused to be on bedrest, however. You had to berate him constantly for trying to leave his bed but he just grumbled how he wanted to be back in his marriage bed, not this medical one. Luckily for him, he had three agents of chaos on his side
Barbarian King!Simon Riley had fathered triplet girls, after all, and they listened to no one, not even you. You had told them to please be nice to their recovering father and they took that as do every mischievous thing he asked them to
Barbarian King!Simon Riley collected cookies, stuffed animals, medical equipment, fairytale books, and a bunch of other oddities such as hair from a guard's moustache. You would walk in and he would be sitting there, arms full of stuff. The triplets would be sitting on his lap, pleased with themselves
Barbarian King!Simon Riley didn’t take long to adjust to his new wooden stump as a leg. He was a soldier, after all, and was used to adapting quickly to new situations. He had other scars to prove it. Honestly, he was quite pleased with himself that he had managed to fend off a bear and only lose one leg
Barbarian King!Simon Riley didn’t argue when you fussed over him for the next two months. “Come here, lovie,” he would constantly say, leaning in for yet another kiss. Yet, when you realised he was acclimating perfectly fine, the fretting stopped, along with the exaggerated affection
Barbarian King!Simon Riley joked that he would have to get injured again just so he could have you all to himself. You quickly shut him up with a glare
Barbarian King!Simon Riley adored his kids, as previously stated. He was consistently frustrated with the triplets, yet couldn’t help but smirk at whatever trouble they got into. What was the biggest realisation, however, was noticing that Maxwell wasn’t as eager to fight as his father. Your son much preferred his quiet time, carving or even sewing alongside you. While a bit puzzled, Simon still proudly displayed his son’s carvings that ranged from animals to wildlife. (Max even carved a new wooden stump for his father one holiday season, which Simon wore proudly.) When Maxwell got into smithing, Simon was all too pleased to join him in the forge. You didn’t expect your only son to be a fascinated blacksmith, but who could choose the interests of their children?
Barbarian King!Simon Riley was aware that your family was growing up and had a hard time with it. It seemed like only yesterday you were sitting in the front of his saddle as he took you to your new home. Things were happening too fast, it seemed. His kids were growing up and he was getting grey hair (you still looked amazing to him however) and if he could pause time, he would. Yet, he took consolation in the fact that some things never changed because every night, you would still slip into bed next to him and he would toss an arm over you to bring you close before beginning to snore
Summary: Throughout his immortal life, Azriel's mate dies and gets reincarnated numerous times
Warnings: Timeline what timeline, canon is thrown out the window, just go along with it, canon level misogyny, clipping of wings, afab reader (has periods), abusive father, frequent death, happy ending, angst so much angst, drinking (and we're gonna ignore the tolerance level of faes), canon level violence, blood, mates, talk of burning/singeing people, reader works in customer service once, rhys is concerned for az's mental health and doesn’t believe him at first, OC lord I made up, age gap (even by fae standards)
A/N: Sorry this took so long, but you guys should totally check out @pellucid-constellations and @illyrianbitch new works! They're really really good 💕
Word Count: 8.5k
Wooden swords clacked together as Cassian threw himself at Azriel. Azriel anticipated the attack and dodged to the side. His wings beat up, trying to lift himself up into the air to give him an advantage in the fight, but they were still a bit too weak to hold him up for a sustained amount of time. Cass laughed and darted forward, managing to slice the tip of his fake sword against Azriel’s chest. The young Illyrian groaned, tossing his sword to the ground.
“Ah, don’t sweat it, Az,” Cassian laughed. “Some of us are just better at this kind of stuff.”
Azriel growled and lunged at Cass, but the other boy just laughed and wrestled back, dirt flying up as they tousled. The boy managed to get a headlock on Cassian and his shadows flew around in agitation and excitement.
Before either of them could tap out – though that happened few and far between, mostly done only because Rhys’ mom caught them – your young voice cleared your throat. “Hey- hey. Could I play with you guys?” The two boys looked up from their place on the ground to see you watching them, hands clasped behind your back as you smiled shyly at them.
“Uh, who are you?” Cassian asked, tugging at Azriel’s arm that was still around his throat. Azriel let his friend go quickly and Cass fell to the ground, cackling even harder.
Shadows zipped toward you, the new girl, twirling around your ankles and dancing between your fingers and wings. You let out a short yelp, though it quickly turned into a laugh, the most musical sound Azriel had ever heard. “Um, I’m Y/n,” you said. “I finished my chores already, so my mom let me leave the house. We live just a bit away.” You were wearing a plain, boxy dress with a dirty apron tied around the front.
Cassian shoved Azriel away and waved. “I’m Cass. This is my brother Azriel. And Rhys is somewhere around here.” He glanced around, searching for the other boy. “We were just practicing our sword fighting,” he informed you, chattering away. “You know, we’re gonna become the best Illyrian warriors one day,” he boasted.
“Just like every other boy, huh?” you grinned, fidgeting a bit. You glanced at Azriel, cheeks lifting up into a hesitant smile.
Az’s eyes widened and his shadows bolted from you back to him, though a couple changed course midway through and zoomed back to you, as if they were too excited not to leave you, looping around the waist of your dress. “Hi,” he greeted simply.
“So…” you hesitated. “Can I play?”
Childhood friendships start simply because someone is in the right place at the right time. The three brothers didn’t see you everyday, but you did become an important part in their lives – especially Azriel’s. He was still adjusting to living with Rhysand and Cassian. The three boys had just begun to form their bond and didn’t think of themselves as brothers yet. After Rhys’ mother had basically adopted Azriel because of her close friendship with his mother, he had awkwardly found his place in the war camp. The transition was hard and he found himself desperate for some sort of inclusion that wasn’t based on pain and hurting others.
He found that in you.
Whenever you were done with your chores (and if your father wasn't around), you would practically stumble over your feet to get to Azriel. He had a habit of waiting for you just past the tree line, engrossed in the shadows. When you couldn’t find him at first, he would appear, which earned him a shriek and then laughter that made you double over. Azriel found himself smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. Wasn't it amazing that he was the one who could make you laugh like that?
Azriel grew attached so quickly that it made his head spin. It happened so fast he questioned what his feelings really were. His shadows seemed especially enamoured, clinging onto you with every step. Azriel was having a hard enough time learning to control them, but with you around, it got even more difficult. One shadow had developed such an attachment that you began to see it swirling around you while you did your chores.
The only times you couldn’t spend time with Azriel is when your father was home. He was usually training the recruits, but it was like he was on a war-path himself when his daughter was near.
“Are you okay?” Azriel asked frantically one day when you came to him with a busted lip and red eyes from crying. “What happened? Y/n,” he practically begged, reaching out for you. His shadows were already anxiously spinning around you and when Azriel stepped in, his shadows transported both of you to his room.
“Um, I wasn’t able to finish dinner before my dad came home,” you whispered out, lips pressing together and chin wobbling. “He got mad. It’s- it’s not that bad, but- but I couldn’t stop crying.”
Azriel couldn’t comprehend someone hurting you. He had been on the receiving end of much torment himself, and he had shown you the burn scars to prove it, but you were nothing like him. You were kind and sweet and his friend and he couldn’t imagine anyone raising a hand towards you. “Here, let me try to—” Azriel had watched Rhys’ mom enough times to know what salves and ointments to use. He grabbed a little tin and unscrewed the cap. “May I?” Azriel’s voice cracked slightly, but you didn’t laugh or tease him. You only nodded.
He dipped his fingers into the cream and then set it down. With his free hand, he reached up to cup your face. “Here.” You weren’t sure if he even knew he was whispering to you, but you couldn’t look away from the way his brows furrowed in concentration. His lips were pressed tight together and his eyes held a grave look in them, as if this was worse than all the things he had already seen in his young life.
Azriel’s fingers brushed over your bottom lip carefully, even tenderly. You had never experienced such serenity in touch before. Your eyes began welling up with tears again and Azriel jerked his hand away, which made you want to cry even more.
The Shadowsinger could feel your breath on his cheeks and his lashes fluttered along with his heart. “Hold on, I swear I’m almost done,” he said, brushing back over the cut on your lip. “It should look good as new in a couple of hours.”
“I don’t want him to clip my wings,” you suddenly said, sucking in a breath. “Azriel, I don’t want to lose my wings.”
He knew instantly what you were talking about. You were nearing that age when you would begin bleeding and per custom, your wings would be taken from you. You would be sold to the highest bidder, forced to be a wife and a mother. Azriel’s shadows crawled into your lap, protecting you solemnly. “I will protect you,” Azriel suddenly vowed, voice heavy with conviction. “I promise.”
He wasn’t able to protect you. He woke one morning, not too long after his promise, to a sharp pain along his shoulder blades. He felt the pain shoot to his stomach, and it felt as if his guts were being rearranged. He let out a strangled sound, but forced himself out of bed.
Cassian and Rhysand were the only reason Azriel didn’t let himself get killed. They quickly followed him after Azriel rushed out the door, wings already unfurling. That led to another grunt of agony. The three of them were quick to fly to the main camp where the sounds of screams met them before they even touched down.
Right in the middle of the camp, there you were. On your hands and knees, it was a pathetic sight. Your beige dress had been cut down the back and you were trying to hold it up to your front. You were gasping for breath in between sobs and when you looked up into the faces of the men surrounding you, there was no comfort or mercy. In fact, there was glee. That morning, you had woken up with blood staining your thighs and it didn’t take your father long to sniff it out. As he stood above you now, a knife in his hand, there was only disgust smeared over his face, as if it was your fault you were a girl and therefore the bane of his existence.
Azriel pushed through the men, shoving them aside. When they retaliated, Rhys and Cassian shoved them right back. “Y/n!” Before he could wrap you in his arms, a much stronger arm shot out and held him back. Your father.
“Get back, boy.” It was a threat, and not one thinly veiled. “This is a family matter.”
“You can’t hurt her!” Azriel shouted back. He struggled against your father’s arms, but was thrown back roughly against the dirt. He landed awkwardly on his wings and a twinge of pain shot down his arm.
Your father advanced towards you and Az struggled back up, lunging towards him. His shadows raced towards you, getting stepped on by the footfalls of your father. “She could die!” Another male wrapped his arms around the kicking, screaming Azriel and yanked him back.
You were still on the ground and it was then that Azriel saw the reason why you didn’t just stand and fly away: two deep slashes of blood stained your stomach. Was your father trying to cut the womanhood from you?
Azriel might as well have had his own stomach carved out. He couldn’t lose you. His eyes tracked the blood as it ran down from where you held your stomach, dripping through your fingers and then onto the ground. The grass was stained red, seeping into the dirt. His gaze snapped up to yours as you whispered his name. “Don’t leave me,” you begged. Your voice was so unlike your own, so hoarse and so desperate. He barely got even a year with you.
“I’m right here, I’m right here,” he repeated over and over as your father stalked towards you. Two brutal swipes slashed through the air, then cut through the tendons of your wings. His words turned into screams as your voice did too. Wailing, wings beating against the person holding him back, Azriel threw his weight around. This was worse than when his hands were burned. How was this worse than when his own skin was the one being harmed? Even at such a young age, he found himself bargaining with The Mother, wanting to give Her ten more years of his own agony if you were spared. He just wanted you alive.
“I’m here! I’m here!” he screamed out, forcing his eyes open so that you weren’t alone in these last seconds. He blinked the tears from his eyes, forcing them to streak down his cheeks, but at least you would be able to hold onto the sight of his eyes one last time. At least you would see the comfort of someone who loved you one last time. He didn’t want you to die scared.
Moments later, as your body slumped to the ground and your father seemed more disgusted by the fact that you weren’t strong enough to withstand his torture, Azriel let out a agonising scream. Even the winds stilled as his knees hit the ground. Shadows covered your body, searching desperately for a pulse. None was found.
The holds on Rhys and Cassian were released and they were the ones to tackle Azriel to the ground as he stood again, determined to kill your father. Of course, they felt his pain. You were their friend as well as his. But they couldn’t let him get into any more trouble. Rhys’ father would deal with it when he came back. When he looked back on that day, decades later, Azriel realised that’s when he began to think of Rhys and Cass as his brothers.
Days later, when Azriel was still in bed with his eyes dried out and his shadows still out by your fresh grave, he vowed to become stronger than your father so no one could ever push him around again. So he would never have to see another friend die. You were more than a friend, he knew, but now he would never even have the chance to see you smile again.
One thing he was truly terrified of was forgetting you. He closed his eyes, trying to engrain within him the colour of your eyes, the curve of your smile, the way it felt when you touched him. He had to memorise it, otherwise it would all be in vain.
Something died within Azriel that day. His childhood, which he had gotten back in the form of you, had officially ended. The little times he smiled now, a light had been lost. His shoulders were always slumped and his wings were folded tightly against his back. Something that tethered him to the world had disintegrated, leaving him there, floating and lifeless.
Like a bond, which was once there, had broken.
Fifty years later, Azriel was sitting at Rita’s. Rhysand was High Lord, Cassian was his General, and Azriel was his Spymaster. What a fitting position for him; slinking around the shadows that seemed to embrace him as one of their own.
The trio was still getting their footing and credibility as the Night Court, and Azriel was doing his best to contribute, but it wasn’t on the forefront of his mind right now. He had shrugged off two advances from females that night already. It didn’t feel right laying with them right now. It was the anniversary of your death. He could have lost himself in the drinking and the women, but instead, he found a little booth in a dark corner of Rita’s, ordered two pints of amber liquid, and set one across from him in tribute. He had all the intention in the world to drink until he couldn’t remember his own name and only remembered your face. Every year he would do this. Currently, he was already a couple drinks in, having stopped at other bars along the way.
His teeth were grinding against each other, jaw muscle working. It took him a very long time before he spoke quietly. “So… you’ve been gone for a while now. I know I’m supposed to forget you, but… that doesn’t seem to be working.” He let out a hoarse laugh. “I’ve tried. I know you would’ve wanted me too. And I– know that you were my friend for less than a year… but gods, it was what we both needed at that moment. I always get worried that I’m, like, romanticising you, but then Rhys shows me some memories and I realise I’m underselling you.”
He shook his head, not knowing what else to say. Slapping some marks down, he left both his half-empty pint and the full glass at the table.
Azriel’s feet scuffed across the stones. His siphons lit the way, but cast the scene in a melancholy blue. There was hardly anyone out now, the shops closed and even the last lights extinguished in the windows. He would stay at the Town House, but it never felt like home, even after all these years. He was still trying to find his home.
The echo of footsteps made him glance up, expecting only a drunk passerby.
His heart wrenched when he saw who it was. He was being pulled forward, but his feet stayed firm to the ground, like roots growing into the ground because even if this was a dream, the hope he felt could’ve lasted him lifetimes. He wanted to stay in this one moment, but he had to know.
Maybe he had been wrong all those years ago. Maybe his shadows were so frantic they missed a heartbeat. Maybe you… were somehow alive.
You turned a corner and Azriel found himself sprinting after you. Inebriated, it was hard to keep steady, but his wings flared out for stability. “Wait!”
He turned the corner after you, but you were gone. He must’ve looked like a madman, trying to pull on locked doors and peering down alleyways. One patron even peeked out their window to see what was causing all the fuss, but quickly slammed the panes shut and locked them when they saw the helpless frenzy Azriel was spinning himself into.
The waves of grief never felt so real. Even after all these years, it tugged him under with a vengeance. Why couldn’t it just let him be?
An hour later, Azriel was pacing in front of Rhysand’s desk. Rhys had never seen his brother so agitated before. Usually he stood in the corner, engrossed in the shadows that fed him secrets and whispers. The fact that his hands were flexing because of stress and his jaw was tight… it didn’t take Rhys prodding his mind to know Azriel had seen something life-changing.
“It was her,” the Shadowsinger stressed. “I swear my life on it, Rhys. She had the same eyes and the same hair. I- I mean, she was older, sure, but I could tell her wings had been clipped. And you know the way her father had singed the edges of her wings once? She- it looked exactly like that. It was Y/n. I know her.” I’ve seen her in my nightmares, day after day, hearing her screams for me. It won’t be soon that I forget her.
“You were drinking, Az,” Rhysand reminded him gently. “And it’s her anniversary. You were already thinking about her and your mind was muddled. I’m sorry, but I can’t… I don’t know,” he sighed. “Practically every female’s wings have been clipped and we don’t know how common singed wings are.”
“Look into my mind,” Azriel pleaded. “Look at my eyes, Rhysand. I’m not lying about this. I would never.”
Cassian piped up from the couch, “but we all saw her. We were all there. I mean, you didn’t come out of your room for weeks, Az. And don’t you think that if she was alive, she would’ve come looking for you already?”
“I don’t know,” Azriel stuttered. “Maybe she was getting her life together. Maybe she was healing. It’s only been fifty years. I swear–”
Rhys sighed and rubbed at his temples. He was having a hard enough time transitioning to High Lord, but now his own brother was adding this nonsense onto it. “Azriel, I want to believe you, I truly do. You know we both adored Y/n. But you said it yourself: she disappeared. You couldn’t find her. Go ahead and try to find her again, but until you do… I don’t know what to think.”
Cass’ head lolled over to look at Azriel. He, too, had been drinking that night and wasn’t in the best state of mind. Perhaps Cassian wasn’t the most perceptive or thoughtful, but Azriel’s expression was enough to tug on anyone’s heartstrings. The Shadowsinger looked nothing less than gaunt. In cycles of extreme sorrow, even the strongest Illyrian would feel hope slip from his fingers. “I’ll help you look,” the General found himself saying. He pushed himself to his feet, fist going to his mouth as he suppressed a burp. “I’ll help you,” he repeated.
Azriel let out a relieved chuckle, running a hand through his windswept hair. Someone was listening to him. Someone believed him. Maybe he wasn’t going crazy after all. “Thank you,” he murmured. “Thank you, Cass. I owe you.”
Cassian shook his head. “No. You don’t owe me anything for this.” Not for the possibility of Y/n’s life.
Azriel’s shadows loved this time of night. They owned the night. They twisted and pried secrets from everyone, running back to their master with their prize. All over this little enemy island, Azriel’s shadows wormed around, sneaking all the information the Spymaster needed. Azriel was now nearing two hundred and eighty years old and had honed his craft perfectly.
In other news, it had been a hundred and twenty years since he had seen you last.
Azriel was working a mission for Rhys, Truthteller strapped to his side and siphons glowing as he waited in a room above one of the town’s bars, awaiting the return of his shadowy little soldiers. There was a lord named Xavier who had made too many snide comments and was beginning to disobey the smallest orders, as if testing the waters and how far he could push the High Lord. Rhysand sent in Azriel to see what was truly happening. No questions asked, Azriel had departed.
A knock came on the door to his room and he stilled. No one was supposed to know he was here. He had checked into the pub but had slipped the manager a couple extra marks to keep him quiet. “Room service,” a voice chirped out happily.
Something itched in the back of his brain. As he subconsciously sifted through memories, he moved to open the door.
When Az would look back on this memory, he would berate himself for not being more careful. He had let his guard down on a mission, which could’ve possibly compromised Rhys and the Inner Court. As Spymaster, he should have never opened that door. But as Azriel, he was glad he did.
His fingers wrapped around the knob and pulled open the door. And he came face to face with you.
Oh.
His chest broke open, ribs tearing apart to give room for his beating heart. His heart that was, and had always been, yours. A shadow reached up to pinch Azriel’s forearm, but even without the motion, he knew it couldn’t have been a dream. He had seen you in his dreams a dozen times over — dreams where he would catch you on the street that night, or dreams where he was able to save you from your father — so he knew this wasn’t a dream. You were much too detailed to be a dream.
He could see the different flecks of colour in your eyes, the strands of your hair, and the way your lips were slightly chapped. Your dress had wrinkles in it and your fingers were spread wide over the platter of food, balancing the weight.
Maybe there was a reason he chose this pub over the two others next to it. After all, he would always be drawn to you.
“Y/n,” he breathed, mouth agape and hazel eyes burning with intensity. “Oh my gods, I knew it. I knew you were alive.” He finally noticed the confusion in your expression and he paused, hands frozen in the air as he reached out to you.
“Hi,” you greeted, still trying to keep that customer service facade on. “I’m so sorry, do I know you? Have we met?”
“Don’t you know who I am?” His voice cracked and he was transported back centuries when he was still growing into his warrior self, such an insecure boy.
You shook your head, feeling sorry for him. Clearly he thought you were an important part of his life. “No, I’m sorry. Could- can I help you look for them? I’m sure we could tell my manager and he could—”
Azriel mimicked your movement, shaking his head and cutting off your speech. “How old are you?” he asked, then instantly felt like a creep. He spluttered a bit and then told you after a breath, “you look exactly like someone I knew.” He explained softly, “and I’ve- I’ve seen you before— or, I mean, someone that looks exactly like she did. You look exactly like she did.”
He was talking nonsense and your expression reflected that. You drew the platter of food closer to you, as if it could protect you against the crazy Illyrian male.
“My mate,” he decided it was easier to give a little white lie than to try to explain it all. No, you hadn’t been his mate a hundred and twenty years ago, but you might as well have been. Perhaps, if you hadn’t died, the bond would’ve snapped for the two of you. “My mate died… a long time ago.” Your face fell into sympathy. Before you could express your condolences, he continued, “but I’ve been seeing her. I don’t know what it is or what’s happening, but this is the second time that I’ve seen you- or, uh, someone who looks exactly like her. It- it can’t be a coincidence.”
You opened your mouth to tell him that although you truly were sorry for his loss, it must’ve just been his grief to make him see the face of his mate in the faces of others. But before you could reply with even your age (fifty-six, by the way), his brows drew together and his eyes flickered up, looking like he was concentrating on something.
Yep, you were very freaked out.
Meanwhile, Rhys was unknowingly interrupting possibly the most important moment of Azriel’s life. Mor found something out. Leave your post and report back here immediately.
Azriel didn’t answer right away. Finally, he replied mentally, not now. He could almost feel the confusion and frustration coursing through Rhys.
Is there a reason you’re disobeying this? Azriel, we can’t have you stuck in enemy territory for longer than necessary. The longer you’re there, the longer someone could find you out and you could easily be compromised. We don’t know how dangerous Lord Xavier is right now, but anyone would be gleeful to capture you.
First off, Azriel snarled, I’m not getting captured. Second off, can’t this wait?
No. Rhys’ voice left no room for argument.
Azriel wanted to rip out Rhysand’s throat. “I’ll be back,” he vowed to you, pushing Rhys’ voice out of his head. Azriel gripped your hands and the platter of food tumbled out of your grasp. “I’ll be back for you. I promise. Then I’ll explain everything. Just wait for me, please.”
“Okay,” you stammered, still overwhelmed by everything.
The Illyrian winnowed away, leaving you standing helpless and confused with food scattered around your feet.
“I have to go back,” Azriel growled. It had been a week since he had seen you at that pub and that was a week too long.
“You cannot, Azriel,” Rhysand argued, having gone over this a thousand times over. “What Mor found proves that Lord Xavier is just too dangerous. Correspondence to other unruly lords and nobles and potentially planning a rebellion! This is bigger than what you claimed to have seen. We need to gather and consolidate our allies and forces. If you go rushing back in there, just to search for a girl that looks like Y/n, you’re ruining everything.”
Azriel wanted to rip his hair out. “I don’t care!” he finally screamed. “It’s Y/n!”
“Get over her!” The High Lord slammed his fists against the wooden table. The contents of his desk rattled. “It has been over two hundred years. She is dead, Azriel. You need to stop grasping at straws.”
From where Cassian and Mor were standing in the corner, both tensed. That was not the thing to say to Azriel regarding the love of his life.
Speaking of the Spymaster, the muscle in his jaw was working overtime. His hands were clenched so tightly that he was sure to draw blood from his palms, but the pain was a welcome distraction from the pain in his heart. The veins in his forearms strained against his skin and his feet slid into a fighting stance.
Of all people, his brother was the one to dismiss him so casually. The betrayal hurt more than thinking of Y/n.
Almost.
It was a close call whenever the brothers brawled, but somehow, Azriel always managed to come out on top. Perhaps this was what ran through Rhys’ mind as he shifted his weight back onto his heels in a small sign of submission and acquiesce. But he wasn’t about to back down. “I will chain you to a tree if I need to.”
“Chain me to a tree, Rhys,” Azriel said. His voice was low and menacing. He gripped the hilt of Truthteller and his siphons glowed even brighter if possible. “I’ll rip it out of the ground and fly with it on my damned back.”
That’s how Azriel found himself chained to a tree.
Mor was trying desperately not to laugh at the sight and Cassian was muttering curses about his idiot brothers as he finished tying Azriel up. Rhysand stood in front of his spy with his hands on his hips. “I’m sorry that it has to be this way, Az, but I can’t have you compromising this mission. If Lord Xavier gets out of hand, then who knows what will follow? We need to shut him down before it gets out of hand.”
Azriel could only glare at his brother. After no response, Rhys turned around, hands clasped behind his back, and began walking away.
He paused when he heard a groan.
Turning back around, Rhysand couldn’t believe what he saw. Neither could Cass or Mor. Azriel’s body was straining against the chains as he leaned forward. The metal cut into his flesh, but Azriel didn’t care one bit. A thick vein strained in his neck and sweat began to bead down his face as slowly, very slowly, the ground beneath his feet began to lift.
It was a feat of strength like no other. And all for the idea that you could be out there.
Azriel readjusted his footing, soil and grass breaking up and clumping by the balls of his feet. His head hung low, hair falling over his eyes. A pained grunt escaped his lips and the bark of the tree scraped against his leathers and forearms, scratching up the skin where tattoos ran underneath. The chains gripped against his biceps, an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object. But while the chains were perhaps immovable, the centuries old tree wasn’t.
It wasn’t a small tree that Rhys had tethered Azriel to. This tree had been growing for decades, spreading its roots deep into the soil. Rhysand gaped as that soil began to unearth itself, the roots being pulled out from their homes as Azriel tried to find his own home. He had to get back to you.
With a scream that rattled the birds nesting in the forest around them, the tree tore out of the dirt and Azriel braced it on his back. His chest heaved and he looked up at Rhysand, a wretched look on his face. His lips were pale and his hair drenched in sweat. “I’m going to my mate,” he growled out.
Azriel spread his wings out on either side of the tree and began beating them. The wind that picked up beneath them was enough to have Cassian stumbling back, shocked. Rhys, Cass, and Mor could only watch as Azriel flew away.
He must’ve looked like a madman. He had been able to shed his chains and the tree whilst flying, but that didn’t stop the deranged look in his eye. Siphons gleaming and shadows unfurling on the pub floor, Azriel stood like the grim reaper, scaring everyone out of the bar. His shadows extended and fanned out, racing through the hallways and rooms of the pub, searching for the one thing that drove them.
They couldn’t find it.
Azriel almost threw the manager against the bar, wanting to break every bone in the pathetic man’s body, but was stopped when the weight of reality crashed down on him, heavier than any tree he could have carried on his back.
You were gone. The manager hadn’t seen you since Azriel had left. The Shadowsinger could’ve upended the town searching for you, but something in him knew he wouldn’t find you. It wasn’t time yet. And if he ripped apart this quaint little island, it certainly wouldn’t help Rhys with Lord Xavier.
As he flew back to the Town House – he was too exhausted to winnow and needed time to clear his head – one thought replayed in his mind over and over again.
He had broken another promise to you.
This was the one. It had to be. This time, he was going to get it right. He wasn’t going to overexplain it to you and freak you out. He wasn’t going to chase you down; he was going to go slow, just as he had always intended. Just as he would have if you two had grown up normally.
Azriel found you next, a gruelling one hundred and thirty years later, in a human town south of The Wall. He had gone flying one day with no purpose in mind. When he returned to Velaris two weeks later, the Inner Circle had never seen him so content and blissful.
You were in your late-twenties when Azriel found you. The Illyrian looked so out of place in the human world, but felt so at home with you. People still steered away from him when they saw him on the streets, for he had done his job well in maintaining the air of the deadly spy. The way his leathers strained against skin of tattoos and how his siphons flowed ominously didn’t match how he smiled for you.
No, you found his smile to be quite nice and solely reserved for you.
Azriel laid in bed with you one day, one wing wrapped around the two of you like a shield from the world. His other wing lay drooped to the ground, finally relaxed. He was wearing plain clothes and you liked the feeling of them against your cheek. He cradled you in his arms, finger gently tracing stars and circles on your arm. His finger dipped down to a small red cut you had gotten when your neighbour’s cat decided it suddenly didn't like you. “How long have you had this?” he asked, voice breaking the lovely silence in the room.
“Hmm? Oh, a couple of days,” you murmured back lazily.
Azriel’s brows furrowed and he gazed down at you. You looked like you belonged in his arms. The way your cheek was pressed against his bicep and the curve of your nose and lips could fuel his heart for aeons. The sun glinted through the window and he decided to lean down and give you a soft kiss to your temple. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know what worries were twisting through his mind.
“I’m fine,” you told him, smiling up at him. “Az, I swear to you that I’m okay. It’s just a little scratch. Nothing to be worried about.”
But you didn’t know that Azriel had seen you bleed out hundreds of years ago while you screamed out for him.
“I know,” he replied quietly. “I simply worry about you.”
“Not all of us can be big, bad Illyrians,” you teased, hand going up to rest on his chest, fingers tapping out a mindless beat.
Azriel only hummed, the sound low in his chest, and held you closer. His hand twined up into your hair, his palm cradling your head closer. He held you delicately, yet firmly, as if you were a precious piece of glass he could never afford to lose.
It had taken you a long time to trust the Spymaster’s advances, but his loyal presence and the loving look in his eyes eventually wore you down. You didn’t understand why an Illyrian warrior was interested in you, but he kept coming back, squashing your fears that one day he would fly away and never return.
Your friends and family were quite suspicious of Azriel, but you found yourself growing to love him. He had his quirks, of course, such as leaving a shadow with you constantly that alerted him even if you stubbed your toe. You didn’t know if all Illyrians were this protective, but Azriel wouldn’t tell you why he hovered over you so much. He clearly had some trauma with past lovers, you figured, so you didn’t comment when he would press into your hands, urging you to run your hands through his hair.
Late at night, when Azriel was staying with you in your tiny one bedroom apartment that was above an alchemist store, he would trace featherlight touches over your features, afraid he would harm you if he held you the way he wanted. The hues of the night would break through the curtains of the windows, reminding him of home, but you now were his home. He spent less and less time at the Night Court because he knew that soon, you would be gone from him once more. Even if you lived your full, wonderful life and he was with you the entirety of it, you would still leave him so soon in his immortal life.
So he decided to hold you the way he wanted to. When you slept, Azriel clung to you desperately, as if he could somehow physically hold the pieces of your broken world together.
He didn’t know if his mate could be a human, but you might as well be. He just wanted to be with you. It didn’t matter what you were doing; as long as he could be near you, it soothed the ache in his chest. Azriel tried to spend time with you without thinking of the impending end, but it was a struggle.
Soon after a birthday of yours, Azriel asked you as he washed dishes, “Y/n, do you ever plan on marrying?”
You looked up from drying the dishes, and replied, “what do you mean? Like- like, to you?”
Azriel looked down at you, a sad smile on his lips. “No,” he admitted quietly. “I love you, darling, but I don’t… I don’t think it would be wise for me to marry you.”
You scoffed and shook your head, grinning down at the dishes. “You self-sacrificing idiot. I want to marry you. I love you, too.” He had expressed to you one night how he thought you were too good for him. He had said it in a teasing tone, but you knew that came from a deep insecurity.
However, he immediately shook his head. “No. No, my love, this is for entirely selfish reasons.” He set down the plate. “I— don’t think I can marry you because it would be too painful to see you age. I would forever be trying to find a way to have you by my side. I couldn’t do that to you. I couldn’t be focused on- on your mortality while married to you. I wouldn’t be a good husband. I would be a horrid husband and that is something I certainly cannot do to you.” He was rambling a bit, yes, but he had gotten his point across.
You put down the rag you were using to dry dishes and stepped closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “I love you,” is all you said. And it was all you needed to say. Your words held every promise from every lifetime and every lifetime yet to come.
That night, Azriel told you of the versions of you he had met in the past. You took it all in and listened quietly, tangled up in the sheets together. “I wonder what it was like to be Illyrian,” you commented afterwards.
Azriel looked down at you. “That’s all you have to say?” he asked, voice betraying disbelief. He had definitely gotten better expressing his emotions to you over the months and the thought made you smile.
“Well, yeah,” you replied. “It would be cool to fly. And like, live forever. And fight and whatnot.”
He couldn’t resist the chuckle that came out of his mouth. Wordlessly, he leaned down and kissed you. You made a muffled sound of surprise, but easily melted into him. He made you feel intoxicated. His lips swept gently against yours, knowing every move that left you breathless. His shadows, sensing the excitement and love, hurried to settle against your stomach and clavicle.
Azriel kissed you with such passion and adoration, arms tucking you close to his chest to trap you in his hold. But you didn’t feel trapped. You felt safe. And you told him as such.
“Good,” he whispered back. “That’s all I want for you.”
To the Shadowsinger, it felt like only a few months. You grew so old so fast and it pained Azriel. Gods, the guilt he felt ruined him. The Inner Circle could most definitely see it, and he wasn't even spending the majority of his time with them. He was spending every waking moment with you, trying to grasp onto something that was slipping through his fingers no matter how he tried to fight it. Mortality hit the hardest when he was staring it in the face, begging it not to take the one person he loved more than life itself.
Azriel didn't fear his own death. He had seen too many on the battlefield and ended too many personally to fear it. He had come to terms that death would embrace him one day and there was nothing he could do but welcome it.
But he did fear your death. He had already lived in worlds without you and it never got easier. To always know that there could’ve been one more day, one more second where he got to see you smile at him or say that you loved him… it brought him to his knees. He would dig his fingers into the earth and rip apart the continent with his bare hands. He would curse The Mother, but he wouldn’t turn his cheek at the religion because perhaps, maybe, She could still grant him some grace. Maybe if he prayed hard enough and long enough, then She would take pity on this broken starved man She had created.
That fateful night, he rocked you gently. You had never grown old in his eyes — only more beautiful. He didn’t care when your hair began to grey or when the wrinkles from your smile became permanent. He loved you still. So he rocked you just as his mother did when he was young, pouring all his love and sorrow into the embrace. When he spoke again, his voice was hoarse and rough like sandpaper. “When will you come back to me? Why can’t I just be with you? Does the Cauldron hate me that much? Do I not deserve you?”
You didn’t respond.
For the first couple of months he was looking for you everywhere, searching faces and sorting through the voices he heard in the marketplace. His skin got even more tan from how long he was spending outside, from dawn until dusk, going into every store and shop. His wings ached from flying to nearby villages and towns and even his shadows seemed exhausted.
Azriel then realised that you must have been reborn at some point, so he almost knocked on the door of a midwife, wanting to ask if she had just delivered any babes by the name of Y/n, but Rhysand talked some sense into him. “You’re sounding crazed,” he said firmly. “I was skeptical at first, I know, but now the most you can do is wait. Fate will bring her into your life again.”
Months turned into years which turned into decades. Azriel never forgot you. He didn’t let himself forget you. He wrote down all the memories he ever had of you and whenever he felt himself slipping, he would reread the entire thing over again.
It was a long ninety years.
But when the Dawn Court got a new emissary that was eighty years old, Azriel felt a tug in his chest. A certain tug that he hadn’t felt in ninety years.
The Dawn Court emissary greeted the Night Court pleasantly, unaware why their Spymaster was silently crying. Azriel couldn’t help it. After all these years, seeing you again was like the skies opened up to shine heaven down upon him. His shadows, of course, raced towards you, toppling over each other to try to be the first to touch you again. You let out a surprised laugh and Azriel nearly collapsed. He managed to stay on his feet even as the universe shifted, pulling his soul towards you as he had always known it was meant to.
You really were his mate.
The rest of the Night Court slowly left, fading away into the halls of the House of Wind (though Cassian didn’t exactly understand what was happening at first). As you looked up from his shadows, he knew you could feel it too. Azriel's breath hitched as he saw the eagerness in your eyes, the way the shadows seemed to dance around your feet and up your dress. It was like they were reaching for him, urging him closer. When you looked up at him with that small, inviting smile and nodded, he felt like his heart might explode. He could feel his heart racing in his chest, like it was attempting to beat out of its confines just to be closer to you, the one who made it beat. He stepped towards you, shadows seeming to touch you in a gentle caress.
Unbeknownst to him, though he could feel the tumultuous tidal wave of emotions crashing through you, you were being rushed back in time. The bond, which had been laying in hibernation for years, had finally come to life, allowing you to see glimpses of your past lives with Azriel.
Your fingers awkwardly tried to weave a flower crown which you had seen the older girls do. A couple metres away from you, Rhys and Cassian were practicing their swordfighting, something which seemed all too common these days. Meanwhile, Azriel laid next to you, on his side as he gazed up at you. Your wings were slumped in a relaxed position behind you, though you huffed as one of the flowers fell off. “It’s not working,” you complained to Az.
He chuckled and you threw him a glare. “It’s only your first try, Y/n,” he reminded you. His smile was bright, but soft, and he hadn’t lost all of that baby fat yet. “Give yourself some time.”
“Will you wear all my flower crowns, even if they’re awful?” you teased, arms extending as you plopped the makeshift crown down on his dark curls. His smile only seemed to grow.
“Of course.”
You waited in the hotel room, glancing around anxiously. Geez, you shouldn’t have believed that Illyrian. He could be coming back to kill you, for all you knew. Or kidnap you. Or worse. But you didn’t leave. A part of you hesitated. Hearing that his mate had died made you feel very sorry for the man. You couldn’t imagine having such a strong bond with someone only for it to be ripped away. You had heard that a mate was the closest anyone could ever come to absolute true acceptance and love and that a mate would be there for you, no matter what.
So perhaps you could stay in this room until he came back, just to try and give him some words of comfort. If you truly looked just like his mate, then perhaps you could help him get over his grief.
You began to clean up the food you had spilled, but even after that, he hadn’t returned. After an even longer stretch of time, you decided that the man was simply playing a prank on you. You huffed in annoyance and stalked out of the room.
You were browsing the marketplace when someone tugged you into a nearby alley. You nearly screamed out, but a hand clapped around your mouth. It was then you felt soft shadows curl around your arms. You relaxed and Azriel let you go. You turned and immediately began chastising him, “Az! How rude of you! Do you know how scared I was?”
The Shadowsinger smirked, revealing his dimples that you very much liked. “And do you think I would ever let anything bad happen to you, darling?” His wings twitched out even at the idea.
“You’re such an ass!” you exclaimed as he took the basket of groceries from your arms and slipped some extra marks into the basket. You didn’t notice, still scolding him. “I mean, what were you thinking? Scaring a woman like that.” He shut you up with a deep kiss that left you gasping for breath. You couldn’t stay mad at him anymore.
“I just wanted to see you,” he murmured out, voice low. “Is that such a crime?”
You opened your mouth, but no words came out. He took that as a sign to kiss you again. “I love you, darling.”
You simply sighed. “I love you, too.”
“I remember.” The words slipped out of your mouth before you could formulate a thought. “I remember. You… we knew each other, didn’t we?”
Azriel had gotten closer to you as the memories had come flooding back. He couldn’t bear to be so far apart, especially after the centuries of waiting. “Yes. We did.” He might have been beginning to cry again, but he would deny that fact for aeons to come. “Cauldron, I can’t believe you remember,” he muttered, taking your face in his hands. His fingers found their way to your hair, like muscle memory. You got the feeling that this was not the first time he had held you like that. He leaned down, slowly, as if terrified that you would reject him. When you didn’t, he let his forehead rest against yours. “I’m sorry for ever leaving you,” he managed out. “I’m sorry I broke my promises.”
“Azriel, it should be me to apologise to you,” you corrected him, brows furrowing in the exact way he remembered. “To have you live through so much angst and sadness… I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”
“There was nothing you could do.” His voice cracked like it had so many years ago. His eyes pressed closed and his tears dripped down to fall onto your skin. “But gods… I’m so sorry.”
You scoffed and shook your head, grinning. “You self-sacrificing idiot.”
This time, Azriel truly did fall to his knees.
For the first couple of decades; he was still wary. You could be taken away from him at any moment. When fitful decades passed and it had been longer than any other time he had had with you, he breathed a sigh of relief, but still was looking over his shoulder every other step. Would he ever get over the trauma? It cut deep like one of his scars that would never truly disappear. You were quick to notice the spike of anxiety through the bond (though even if the bond wasn't there, you would’ve still seen the nervous tick of his jaw), and took his face in your hands. “Hey,” you whispered to him. “It doesn’t matter, does it? Because you’ll just find me again.”
“I will,” he promised over and over again. “In every life, in every timeline, and in every universe.” And that was a promise he intended to keep.
alright, i'll be the one to say it. ao3 and tumblr becoming "mainstream" did so much damage to the community and the writers. i have seen loads of videos and posts about:
1. people hating on writers and fics. writing is something we do for free and for fun. if you stumble upon a fanfic that isn't necessarily your cup of tea or you just don't like, scroll. dont read it. literally leave their page. you don't know if this could be the author's first work that they're so excited about, you dont know if the language they're writing in isn't their first language, you dont know that the writer could be a literal teen and loads of other reasons. fanfictions don't HAVE to be perfect. you write what you want to write because we do it for fun and enjoyment and we want to share that to the world. seriously, what is the wrong with that?..
2. x reader consumers getting WAY to entitled. the number of tiktoks i've seen that "i run a strict program when it comes to reading fanfics." girl you aint running shit. this is FAN FICTION you're reading. F A N F I C T I O N. there is no denying that most fanfiction writes are beyond talented but just because you read one fanfic that exceeds your expectations doesn't give you the right to talk down on others that don't. people have their own personal writing style, their way of doing things and you talking shit on that isn't right.
at the end of the day, we are all humans, reading and writing is what we do and what we're meant to do. and for you to talk shit about a person WRITING is so insane. we are humans. not some robots that you can tell what to do so you can consume it.
i've seen so so many authors take down their fanfics and losing all motivation to write because of a hate comment. DONT LIKE DONT READ‼️
and to every author reading this, this community values your work and your contribution. we love u and, please, never let anyone's negative words have an effect on you.
this!!! i completely forgot to mention this!!! so many anon bots have been treating authors like some robots who HAVE to post fanfics 24/7!! happened to my lovely talented mutuals too. you do nothing to contribute to the community or support the authors, you don't like, don't reblog, you don't leave a comment and then you think you get a say in what others will write or get mad that someone's writing style doesn't match the one you like.
get over urself girl omfg. you don't get a say in shit. ‼️‼️‼️
3. The way lots of authors now are chasing lots of likes and comments and followers. Yes, it feels nice when 500+ people like your work, but we have to recognise that even if only a couple people liked your work and you poured your heart and soul into it, it’s still a wonderful piece
With fanfic becoming mainstream, we’re getting into the clickbait/influencer culture. I’ve felt so much pressure to keep pumping out fics (even ones I don’t like!!!!) just so everyone is satisfied
(Due to this clickbait/influencer culture, people have also gotten way too comfortable just liking stories and not interacting. Likes are practically meaningless. I thrive on comments or reblogs because I get to see your reactions. It makes me so freaking happy.)
I have a life outside of fanfic and am working on other projects too. The little time I have to write, I wanna write what I want and I think that’s overshadowed by requests or the want to write something that will get a lot of likes.
It’s a mindset I’ve fallen into and am slowly trying to rework my way out of. Thankfully I’ve never experienced a hate comment, but I do think everyone needs to read this. Our community is becoming toxic.
Got an idea for you, so imagine jason with a detective reader, who just so happened to have died and been resurrected as a child like him
Hi! Thank you so much for your idea. I’ll keep it in mind for sure, but I have some other fics I’m working on at the moment and want to prioritise those. Thanks 😁
Landlord!Jason Todd wanted to do something with Bruce’s money. He had seen firsthand the sorrows of Gotham and even though he grew up under a billionaire's wing, poverty was never something one forgot
Landlord!Jason Todd did indeed have a dichotomy of morals from both his days on the street and as Batman’s protege, but one belief he took away from both was that the rich weren’t doing anything to help the majority
Landlord!Jason Todd took his remarks to Bruce. The billionaire was a philanthropist but urged his son to do the same. He gave Jason enough funds to buy a series of apartment buildings from corrupt landlords who were grossly overcharging their tenants
Landlord!Jason Todd entirely changed things. He lowered the rent and incorporated fixed prices. People came flocking in and soon he was making a steady profit. It also helped that he was skilled in handy things around the buildings and didn’t need to pay for plumbers or electricians unless truly out of his depth. (His childhood days stealing hubcaps and working with his hands were extremely useful. Who knew?)
Landlord!Jason Todd knew you as a name on a lease. You had moved into one of his apartments after graduating from Gotham University and needed a cheap place to live
Landlord!Jason Todd had met you once, when you first moved in. He gave you his number and you saved him in your phone as “Hot Landlord”
Landlord!Jason Todd showed up in jeans and a tight white t-shirt. From the moment you let him into your apartment, he could feel the heat. Your A/C was definitely not working. Controversy, you were in a tank-top and shorts. As he got to work, he wiped a sheen of sweat from his forehead. Meanwhile, you were all but gawking at your landlord. You knew a lot of pornos started this way, but holy shit, you didn’t understand the appeal until now. Not only was he hot, but it was like Jason’s presence in your apartment followed you. You tried to get some work done – dishes, emails, and whatnot, but you were acutely aware of him
Landlord!Jason Todd tried not to listen into your call when your phone rang, but what else was he supposed to do? The conversation didn’t get interesting until your voice dropped and you muttered into the phone, “babes, my hot landlord is here fixing my A/C. God, it’s like a fine snack just there in my living room.” You laughed and continued, “I almost wanna go in being like, ‘oh, no, I can’t pay my rent! However can I repay you?’”
Landlord!Jason Todd was a gentleman and didn’t wanna capitalise on that, especially since he didn’t know if you were joking or not, but his pants definitely got tighter
Landlord!Jason Todd knew he was attractive – he had been hit on many times before, but he did let his mind wander as if to what might happen with you. He wasn’t blind, after all, and your tank-top didn’t leave much to the imagination
Landlord!Jason Todd fixed the A/C and left but was horribly distracted the rest of the day
Landlord!Jason Todd got another text from you three weeks later. There was apparently a problem with your fridge. Jason was in the middle of a Bat-family dinner and just stood up, his chair screeching out from under him. “Gotta go,” he said simply, ignoring everyone’s protests
Landlord!Jason Todd stepped into your apartment with ease. “No problem at all. What’s the issue?” You were in the middle of dinner yourself and making noodles. You showed him the problem and practically drooled over him as he rolled up his sleeves, kneeled down, and got to work
Landlord!Jason Todd made idle conversation with you, but it wasn’t long before his hands migrated to your legs and his kneeling position aided him greatly in eating you out on the kitchen counter. Your nails dug into his forearms as you gasped out at the sight before you and the sensations Jason was bringing you. One of his hands was spreading your legs apart and the other was anchored on your hip. Your noodles burned, but neither of you cared
Landlord!Jason Todd was a talker during sex. He liked missionary best as you soon learned, wanting to see you as you came apart. That didn’t stop him from driving you into the mattress however, the headboard slamming into the wall. “Don’t worry, I’ll fix the plaster if it breaks,” he reassured you in a gruff voice as sweat beaded on his forehead. “Been thinking about this ever since I fixed the A/C. Heard you on the phone, you know.” You could only let out a little noise as his hips pumped into yours, rocking your body back and forth
Landlord!Jason Todd made fuck-buddies-with-your-landlord a great experience for you. He could stop in whenever and was very good at playing out your fantasies. Suddenly, your appliances just started breaking all the time and so there was no other choice but for him to come over and fix them. Oh no, how horrible. He would refuse any type of payment other than you in bed, clothes stripped off
Landlord!Jason Todd really really liked eating you out. He was a proud eater and would grow out his stubble or shave it, depending on what he wanted to give you that day. His stubble had even turned a lighter colour from how much time he spent between your legs
Landlord!Jason Todd didn’t love quickies or phone sex. He would still do them, especially if you were begging him to, but liked to take his time with you and do multiple rounds
Landlord!Jason Todd was very good at aftercare. He would wrap you up in one of his sweaters he conveniently had brought with him and clean you up so gently. He loved to tuck an arm under your head and you loved to subsequently bite his bicep usually leading to round two
Landlord!Jason Todd who was a bit nervous to ask you out officially. He loved your little rendezvous and knew you did too (you frequently made comments on how perfect his body was and would run your hands through his hair after sex) but didn’t want to fuck it up. Think of how awkward that would make it all, especially because of the power dynamic. He would never even consider using his position as your landlord against you and he made sure to tell you that over the dinner he took you to and the bouquet of flowers he got you
Landlord!Jason Todd who was actually surprised when you laughed and said, “of course I want to go out with you!” He hadn't believed it at first, thinking you had just wanted a good fuck, but when he saw your smile, he knew you were serious
Landlord!Jason Todd was a bit quieter of a man until it came to sex. He would let you take the lead with most conversations and was very polite whenever meeting your friends or family (though you knew his sarcastic sense of humour would come out when he felt more comfortable around them). However, when he had you in bed it was like he had no filter. Every comment about how perfect your body was or how you felt around his cock escaped him. The obscene things he would tell you he was gonna do to you while already fucking you made you even more wet
Landlord!Jason Todd had more talents other than the sex, though. Because of his naturally quiet nature, he was an incredible listener that absorbed things like a sponge. He remembered so many little details about you and utilised them magnificently. He would randomly buy little gifts or send you pictures of your favourite colour out in nature with the caption, “thinking of you,” which he constantly was
Landlord!Jason Todd was an incredible cook as well (everyone, thank Alfred)
Landlord!Jason Todd who, on your one year anniversary, realised your contact name for him still hadn't changed
Landlord!Jason Todd got teased relentlessly by his family about how obsessed he was over you
Landlord!Jason Todd knew he was gonna marry you when you slapped him over the head after mocking Damian at a Bat-family dinner
Landlord!Jason Todd let Bruce pay for the wedding, but Jason paid for the ring
Landlord!Jason Todd who proposed in your apartment after cooking you dinner. He was nervous as hell and stuttered over some words, but knew in his heart that you were it for him. He was so relieved when you said yes
Summary: Detective!Jason Todd x detective!Reader based on Jake and Amy’s relationship
Series Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of violence (but nothing descriptive), guns and other police stuff
Series Masterlist
Dick crossed over to stand next to Y/n, who was watching Jason through the window of the breakroom. The couple had returned a month ago from their honeymoon and their rings sat proudly on their fingers, adding another piece to their uniforms as detectives. “What’s going on?” Dick asked as Jason sat at the table, his computer open in front of him and numerous printed articles spread around him. His hair was spiked up all over the place and he had a crazed look in his eye. “Why’s Todd’s hair like that?”
“Oh,” Y/n sipped her drink from a mug. “He obsessively runs a hand through his hair whenever he’s nervous. He’s researching fertility plans.”
Dick gave her a side-eye. “But Jason loves researching,” he countered.
The woman shook her head. “Not this time. He’s got to get it right so that we’ll get pregnant within the next eighteen months. Otherwise, it’ll disrupt his entire life calendar.”
“Is that a real thing?”
“It hangs over our bed,” Y/n replied. Dick couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. “You should’ve seen him when he was planning our honeymoon,” she continued as she nodded to her husband. “He was frantic. Cross-referencing and all that stuff. It paid off though. I could hardly walk the next day, Dick,” she said loudly with a smirk. Y/n gave Jason a thumbs-up and grin from behind the window. He raised a brow, not having heard what she said.
Ignoring the last comment, Dick asked, “why aren’t you helping? It’s your uterus.”
“Hell yeah, women’s rights, Grayson.” She held up her hand for a high-five and Dick, without looking, returned the gesture. “But you know Jay. He’s very particular about schedules and planning and all that crap.”
“So he's stress spiking his hair,” Cass interrupted their conversation and stood beside Y/n. “Big deal. That's like a one on the Todd Panic System.”
“Yeah, but we've also jumped up to level two,” Y/n said. “Creepily singing songs from Hairspray.”
Jason was sitting up in their bed, still on his computer. Y/n laid beside him, trying to get some sleep when he began murmuring, “Because I'm big, blonde, and beautiful… Face the fact, the simply irrefutable.” Y/n slowly covered her head with her pillow.
Continuing, Y/n shrugged. “So, yeah, it's a little tough right now, but I think the worst is behind us. We had to have a bit of a talk about it, you know?”
“I don't understand,” Jason said one night after Y/n showed some hesitancy about kids. “Darling, I thought we were on the same page about kids. We talked about this.”
With a handful of popcorn halfway to her mouth, she paused. “We did?”
“Yes!” Jason exclaimed. “Remember when I showed you pictures my brother sent of Matthew at the water park and asked if we should do it someday? You said ‘are you kidding me? Of course!’”
Y/n froze and her mouth dropped open. “I was talking about going to the water park! You were talking about having kids?!”
Jason couldn’t help but let out a startled laugh. “Yeah! I asked if you think we could afford it and you said, ‘we'll start saving right away.’”
“Wait wait wait. Let me get this straight. All that hard-earned water park money I've been saving, you want to spend it on kids now?”
Suddenly, Jason slammed his head down onto his computer and shouted, “stupid fucking AI overviews!”
“He'll be okay!” Y/n reassured her coworkers before heading into the breakroom. “Hey, babe. Oh! I see this is your… fifth cup of coffee?” She counted the empty mugs on the table.
“You’re so right,” Jason muttered. “I’ll get another.”
The detective frowned. “Okay, Jay, I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but you gotta calm the hell down. It’s trying to get pregnant. It’s supposed to be fun and sexy!” She wiggled her shoulders back and forth.
Damian, who was just entering the breakroom, promptly turned and walked out. “I don’t need to hear about your copulating.”
Jason didn’t even glance at Damian. “You think that because you love me, and love has made you dumb,” he declared to his wife.
“I disagree, if anything, love has made me smarter,” she said, holding a finger up. “Remember last week when I roasted the marshmallow to perfection?”
“That was big. I was really proud of you.”
“Thank you, and… Hold onto your crazy-ass hair… Because I'm about to prove to you that you have nothing to worry about. If it happens, it happens,” she shrugged.
Jason stared at her before muttering, “I’ll make a chart.”
“Sir, a witness just came in with her child,” Dick told Captain Wayne, poking his head into the superior’s office. “While she was being interviewed, I took the kid to the soft room, and the toy situation in there was kind of bleak.”
“Is this your opinion or the child's opinion?” Wayne asked.
“It's mine,” Dick admitted.
Wayne crossed his arms. “Trick question. Any opinion about toys is a child's opinion. You, Sergeant Grayson, are a child.”
“All we have in there are toys from the movie Alice in Wonderland, and none of them are even Alice,” Dick spluttered in defense.
Wayne hummed and opened a desk drawer. “I have an extra graphing calculator I could leave in there for the children,” he offered.
“Um, I was thinking we could liven things up in there. Maybe add a model train?” Dick suggested. “I used to love them when I was a kid.”
Bruce’s eyebrows raised up slowly. “I was also a model train enthusiast as a child,” he revealed. “Those miniature tracks provided me with some of my happiest memories.”
A young Bruce laid on his bedroom carpet with a small circular train track set up in front of him. He was dressed in a button-down shirt and dress pants with suspenders. “All aboard. The train will be departing in forty-five minutes.” The child then paused as the clock ticked by, evidently waiting for forty-five minutes to pass.
“I like this idea, Grayson,” Wayne admitted. “I'll help you build the train set.” He stood from his desk and smoothed down his uniform.
Dick grinned and hopped onto the balls of his feet. “Sweet! This'll be fun!”
The captain paused and looked at his sergeant in disappointment. “I hope not. It's trains.”
A while later, Y/n walked into the bullpen. She couldn’t find her husband anywhere. He was supposed to buy them lunch and she was getting very hungry. “Jason’s not in the breakroom,” she announced. “Or the evidence room or the ladies' bathroom – I don’t know why I looked in there, because now it seems stupid, but my tummy’s rumbling and I’m getting desperate! I can't believe this is happening. We gotta figure out where he is.” She addressed her colleagues as they clearly had nothing better to do in a police precinct. “Alright, think! If you were Jason, where would you be right now?”
Damian immediately began rattling things off. “The boring suit store. A crossword factory. A museum of sappy love crap. Is it possible to enter the color diarrhoea yellow?”
“That's my husband you're talking about,” Y/n growled, pointing a finger at Damian. “Ooh, wait, I know, I can call him from Sarge's phone. There's no way he'll turn down a call from a superior officer.” Dick tossed her his phone without arguing, knowing that no work would get done until Jason was found. He was briefing Steph about a robbery before he left to help Wayne with the trains. After a couple of rings, Jason still hadn’t picked up. “Right,” Y/n groaned. “I forgot it’s Dick. No one has respect for him.”
“Hey!”
“Tim!” Y/n instructed loudly, pointing to the man currently taking a nap on his desk. “Let's go!” She ran out of the bullpen, Tim still looking after her bleary-eyed. When he finally caught up, Y/n was already at the front door. “The duty sergeant said he exited this way, and…” She bounded out of the precinct to a parking lot with no sign of her love. “...he's not here.”
Tim shook his head. “Stop thinking about him like he's your husband,” he said. “What would you do if he was a perp?”
Y/n shrugged. “I guess role play, try and see the world through his eyes. Oh, no,” she suddenly gasped. “What if I see my reflection and fall in love with myself?”
“Y/n,” Tim deadpanned.
“Roger that,” she clicked her tongue and began walking. “Okay, fine, I'll be Jason. Just know everything I'm about to say, I say with love,” she prefaced before lowering her voice and placing her hands on her hips. “I'm outside. I like to listen to audiobooks when I’m alone and need to think,” she said as her husband, voice still low to imitate him. “Wait, what audiobook am I in the middle of? Pause to think, pause to think,” she said, tapping her chin and Tim rolled his eyes. “Yes, of course, I just finished The Great Gatsby and talked about it all morning and how Zelda Fitzgerald had a huge impact on him. I was going to read her works next. Alright, Jason’s on the move,” she narrated. “And I'm walking, I'm walking.”
In the soft room, Wayne and Grayson had compiled a table with a train track running the length of it and a station branching out in the middle. Bruce was on one side, his thin glasses on and inspecting one of his trains. “Ah, GP40 Diesel locomotive with sprung drive wheels, rule 17 lighting, and full underbody detailing. You're gonna be the belle of the ball,” he whispered out, eyes widening.
Meanwhile, Dick stared down at two mini-figures of townspeople. “Richard is your god,” he proclaimed. He had his glasses on as well with a beaded cord around his neck that Y/n and his daughters teased him relentlessly about. “All hail Lord Grayson, giver of life! ‘All hail Lord Grayson!’” He wiggled the townspeople around and raised his voice an octave, as if they were repeating the grovelling back to him. “Check out Richard’s Railyard,” he said proudly to his captain. “It's got three ice cream shops, a nice 50s diner, and a Mexican restaurant with a sombrero on it like from Despicable Me 2.” There was also a lake and beach with trees surrounding the town.
Wayne gestured to the sombrero, palm out. “What happens to the sombrero when it rains?” he asked. “I see no drains. Does it just fill up with water until the building collapses, killing everyone inside?”
Dick stared at Wayne from over the lens of his glasses. “It never rains at Richard’s Railyard.”
“So you achieved this level of lushness through irrigation alone?”
Dick rolled his eyes. “I don't know,” he exclaimed. “I'm just trying to build a fun world. That's what model trains are all about: imagination.”
The captain shook his head. “No, they're about accuracy,” he rebutted. “People like to see the world around them exactly as it is, but smaller.”
“Okay, well, we can have part of the model be very accurate and part of it will be creative,” Dick said, pointing to their separate areas.
“I'm okay with that,” Wayne conceded, though he stared at Dick’s side with the slightest pursing of lips that showed his extreme hatred. “Would you fetch me the 8 millimeter level from my office?” he asked.
“Oh, sure.”
After Dick headed out, Bruce picked up the Mexican restaurant and slowly dropped it into the trash. “Oops.”
Y/n was still walking down the sidewalk, Tim trailing next to her. He always seemed to get wrapped up in her shenanigans. Just as he was lamenting it, Y/n paused. “Oh, I'm seeing a paper supply store. I wonder if they have those new yearly calendars with boxes big enough to track my darling wife’s ovulation cycle?”
“Whoa, you're good,” Tim said. “I've definitely heard him talk about those calendars. Not the ovulation thing, though,” he remarked. “I didn’t need to know that.”
“That's because they also have the moon cycles on them and don’t put two days in one box, like other calendars do to save space,” Y/n said, voice still low like Jason’s.
“This is chilling.”
Y/n turned to him and offered, “you wanna get in on this? I’m sure you would do a great Jay voice.”
“I’m good, but thanks.”
Y/n turned towards the store and tried to open it, but the lights were off inside. “Damn it all to hell. The store is closed!” she said, hands returning to her hips. “My bad day just got a whole heck of a lot worse. Time to turn dramatically away… I'm seeing… The state library.” The woman grinned, knowing exactly where her husband had ended up.
“Captain,” Dick cleared his throat the moment he stepped back inside the room with the 8 millimeter level. “Did you throw away my sombrero restaurant?”
Wayne glanced up. “Oh, I might have knocked it in the bin by accident,” he said. “I do remember saying, ‘oops.’” At Dick crossing his arms, Wayne said with no emotion, “fine, I will come clean. You're ruining our model with your frivolous garbage.”
Immediately, Dick shrieked, “we’re building this for kids! You really think they're gonna enjoy your brown rectangle of dirt with one little house?”
Bruce swept a hand over his side of the trainyard. “Excuse me, this is an accurate facsimile of a mid-sized switching yard. And it isn't a ‘little house.’ It's a work shed where the yardmen get their OSHA-mandated eight hours of rest between shifts. So, yes, I think the kids are gonna love it!” With a slight raise in voice, it was the most Dick had ever seen his Captain worked up.
The sergeant exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, we have a witness coming in at three with her son. Let's split this train set in two, make our own models, and see which one he likes more.”
“You’re on.”
Y/n bounded into the government building. “The Department of Records, where his cousin Faye works.” The detectives headed to the front desk and looked at the sign in sheet. “Noice. He signed in 20 minutes ago. Yet another great opportunity for the voice!” She pointed towards Tim who shook his head.
When they got to Faye’s desk, however, the woman informed them, “Jason’s not here.”
Before Y/n could swear, Tim took that opportunity to lower his voice and swing his arm over her shoulder. “Don't give up, babe, you'll find me,” he said gruffly.
“Not now, Tim,” the detective snapped. “Okay, we’ve only been married for a month and I’ve completely lost my husband. I'm spiraling. Somebody say something positive.”
“No,” Faye said with the same dry humour that her cousin had.
Tim glanced at the cousin he had just met. “Do you… not like Y/n?” he asked awkwardly.
“Oh, no, I like her,” Faye said with a bright smile. “The wedding was great and I really think she’s a great match for Jason. I just don’t like her as a trivia teammate.”
Y/n groaned loudly. “Okay, Faye! You have gotta get over the trivia thing. I tried my hardest!”
The woman proudly stood up at a bar’s trivia night. “The phrase you're looking for,” she announced to the room, “is ‘Winter is coming.’”
Faye dropped her head into her hands. The Emcee said slowly, “no, what Paul Revere said was that the British are coming.” Jason placed a hand on his wife’s arm, urging her to sit down.
“In my defense, Jay and I just finished Game of Thrones.”
“It’s basic history!”
“Trivia pressure is real!”
Tim interrupted before the argument could continue. “Can we please get back to Jason?”
“He signed in downstairs 20 minutes ago, but didn't come here, so I don’t know,” Faye said.
Y/n sighed and ran a hand through her hair. She and her husband had similar things they did when stressed. “Well, this is the Department of Records, so I'm going to make an educated guess and say he came here for a record.”
“Ooh, not sure you're qualified to make an educated guess,” Faye sucked in a breath through her teeth.
“Look,” the detective rounded on her husband’s cousin. “I know lots of things!” she argued. “I know everything about Batman. I'm not dumb, I just can't handle the trivia pressure. Anyway, can you please just look up every file that's been logged out in the past 20 minutes?”
“Fine,” Faye rolled her eyes. Y/n stuck her tongue out at the woman and somehow, Tim knew they both gave Jason the same headache. “Yeah, there was a sixty-sixth precinct case file from August six years ago that was just accessed.”
Y/n’s shoulders dropped in relief. “Okay, I definitely know where he is,” she breathed out.
“Like you definitely knew the Serengeti was a type of pasta?”
“Let it go, Faye!”
Still in the soft room and ignoring all other duties, Dick and Bruce were just finishing the train station. “Mount Dick’s looking good,” Dick was saying. “I just add a little snow, and…” He sprinkled some over the mountain. “Perfect.”
“I’m unsure you wish your mountain to be named after you,” Wayne commented. “You should be grateful this isn’t a sexual assault case or it could be very triggering for the child.” While Dick gaped at him, Wayne looked proudly down at his side of the table. “Ah, yes. Now, that's what I call the right amount of arid shrubbery.”
“Great job, Captain,” Dick said sarcastically. “That's just what the kid's gonna want, to play in a serial killer's dumping ground. Meanwhile, all aboard the Grayson Victory Express!” He pushed his train along the track.
Wayne huffed out his version of a small laugh. “Oh, I'm sure the child will love that you put a steam locomotive whistle on a diesel train. I'm joking,” he added. “He's going to vomit when he hears that.”
Just then, an officer named Duke popped his head into the room. “Kid's here.”
“Show him in,” Wayne instructed.
Duke smiled and led a twelve year old boy into the room. The kid had bright green eyes and dyed hair to match. He was wearing a purple vest and black shirt underneath. “This is Garfield Logan,” Duke introduced.
“Hello, Garfield. I'm Captain Wayne,” the man said, hands clasped behind his back. “We have some trains here to play with, like this one that carries coal and rivets, the two main exports of our town. Would you like to transport some coal or rivets?” he asked, slowly pushing the train along as if that would entice the kid.
“Or,” Dick jumped in. “Would you like to come over here to Richard’s Railyard, where it's always all four seasons and has a volcano?” He grinned, certain he had won.
Garfield’s face scrunched up and in a high voice, asked, “man, do you guys have any video games?” He shoved his hands into his vest pockets.
Wayne cleared his throat and said, “I see what's happening here. You're afraid that you're gonna make Sergeant Grayson feel bad. Don't worry,” he reassured the kid. “He's a subordinate.”
Before Dick could complain, Garfield shrugged. “Nah, just… Trains are kinda lame and nobody plays with them.”
“Okay, but surely one of these trains is less lame than the other, right?” Dick asked desperately.
Garfield looked back and forth between the two sides before decidedly saying, “no, they look exactly the same to me.”
“Get out,” Wayne demanded.
“Hey,” Y/n greeted her husband softly. She closed the door behind her. He was standing in an abandoned apartment overlooking an alley.
“How'd you find me?” he asked, though it sounded as if he knew all along she would.
Y/n stepped over next to him and leaned her head on his shoulder. “A mid-August stakeout six years ago. Detectives L/n and Todd conducted surveillance for Harley Quinn and Pamela Isely. This is where we came to catch the Penguin and you fell in love with me.” Jason scoffed and grinned. Y/n corrected herself, “the day that you flirted with me for twenty seconds and I fell hopelessly in love with you.”
“I was already in love with you for years,” Jason revealed, leaning down to press a kiss to her hair. “I'm sorry I freaked out and ran away,” he muttered. “I’m just… in shambles about this pregnancy thing for some reason.” He ran a hand down his face. “I’m so fucking worried, Y/n. What if something happens to you? I’ve been researching and honestly, I’d rather have you safe and sound with no kids than something happen to you. Like, not to scare you, but some of the diagrams I’m seeing are terrifying. And what if I’m not a good husband? I know that a ton of women comment on how their husband doesn’t do anything around the house and what if I turn out like that twenty years down the road? I couldn’t live with myself seeing the light leave your eyes. It’s the thing I love most about you,” he said. “And I don’t want this to mean we sacrifice our jobs. You love being a detective and I… gosh, I just don’t know what to do.” He looked down at his wife and froze. “Oh, shit, why are you crying? You’re not supposed to be crying.”
Y/n laughed, wiping away the tears. “You’re an amazing husband, sweetheart,” she said quietly. “And I think we both know that I would whoop your ass if you weren’t doing enough around the house.”
“Yeah, you would.”
“But you already do a lot,” she said. “You take care of me when I’m sick and do the dishes and help with the laundry. I don’t have to ask you to clean the bathroom or add something to the grocery list. And I know pregnancy is complicated,” she said, reaching up to place a hand on Jason’s cheek. He leaned into it. “Trust me, I’ve grown up hearing all the horror stories. But I also know I wouldn’t feel so ready to do it unless my husband was the best man ever. I know you’ll help me with postpartum stuff and be with me through everything. You’ll change diapers and deal with throw-up and all that crap. I want kids with you, Jay. You’ll make an amazing dad.”
“I love you,” he whispered before bending down to kiss her lips gently.
“I love you, too. Wanna try for a baby now?” Y/n asked with a grin, wiggling her eyebrows.
Jason raised a brow. “I thought you said this place had tetanus.”
“Ah, so true.” She turned back and tried to open the door. “Hmm. Right. You don't have a key for this random door, do you?” she asked sheepishly. Jason just stared at her.
“Where's Tim?” he just asked.
Y/n said, “I don’t know. But he knows where we are, at least.”
Jason sighed, but was already sitting down on the floor, readying himself for a wait. “I’m sure he’ll come get us–” Just then, Y/n began tying some rope around her waist that was lying on the ground. “Oh, no, you won’t,” he said firmly as she headed towards the window. He scrambled upright. “No. Y/n, love of my life, you are not Die-Harding off this roof.”
Y/n beamed. “I am definitely Die-Harding off this roof, for you and only for you, and also for me because I've always wanted to do it.” She squealed in excitement, swinging a leg out the window.
“Sweetheart, come on, get down from there. It's too dangerous.”
“It's perfectly safe,” Y/n assured him, handing him the other end of the rope. With nothing else to do, he tied it down. “See you in hell, kiddo,” Y/n said, voice low as she saluted him.
“What?”
“Yippee ki-yay!” she shrieked before jumping off. Jason held onto the rope for dear life, even though it was tied down. Why hadn’t he tried to grab her? “Bars, bars, bars!” Y/n suddenly shouted and Jason looked over the edge just in time to see her hit some bars on the window below them. “Jason, there are bars on the windows!”
Dick stepped into Wayne’s office once more. “I just set up a video game system,” he informed his superior. “The kid's much happier. Turns out children don't care about model trains.”
“Not only children,” Bruce said. “I'm beginning to think nobody does.”
He was on the phone with his husband, saying, “Clark, you are not gonna believe this. Richard put Lo-V IRT Pullman rolling stock on a ballastless track. I was dying, Clark, dying.” After a beat, he sighed, “yes, you can hang up now.”
“I guess we're condemned,” he said, sitting back in his chair, “to a life of solo railroading.”
Dick smiled gently at his captain. “We don't have to be. I know we've had our differences, but through some crazy twist of fate we found each other. Shouldn't we just be excited that we have someone to share that with?”
Wayne grunted, “not interested. Good day.”
“Okay,” Dick hummed. “Well, I just wanted to show you I got a tiny little train inspector.” He lifted up a mini-figurine. “It's to make sure the tracks are up to code. I'll be going.” He set it down on Bruce’s desk.
“Wait,” Bruce suddenly said and Dick turned around happily. “You left your figurine behind for some reason. Take it.” With a sigh, Dick grabbed his toy. He was just out the door before Wayne said again, “wait.”
A while later both were back in the soft room, trains connected together again. “Come on, Sergeant, take the train through the pass.”
“All aboard the Graysonliner!” Dick cheered. “Next stop, Waynesovania.”
Tim unlocked the door with a key he had gotten from the building superior. “Where the hell have you guys been? What’s taking you so long?” He saw Jason by the window and a rope falling down the edge. It didn’t take long for him to ask, “did Y/n Die-Hard off the roof?”
“Yeah,” Jason sighed.
“But the windows have bars,” Tim said.
A voice from below shouted up, “yeah, we all know about the bars, Timmy! Just don't worry about me. Leave me! I know it's gonna be hard to walk away, but you have to be strong!”
“You’re my wife. I don’t think I’m legally allowed to.”
That night, Jason approached his wife and Tim. “Hey,” he said. His hair had returned to normal and he didn’t have stress outlining his eyes anymore. “I just want to thank you guys for chasing me down. I know it's been a rough day, Y/n, but I think I know how to make it up to you.”
The woman gasped. “Three minutes in paradise?” she pleaded.
Jason threw her a disgruntled look as Tim sipped his coffee. “We both know I can go longer than that,” he said. Tim spat out the coffee. “But no, not that. Even better.” Later, at Odin’s Bar, he placed an arm over her shoulders. “Okay, welcome to trivia night!”
Faye was already at the table when Y/n, Jason, and Tim sat down. “You said you would never bring her again!” She slapped Jason’s arm.
“Don't worry, it's gonna be fine, I promise.”
Y/n, with a grimace on her face, asked, “is it?”
It was then the Emcee announced, “tonight's first category, by special request, is Batman!”
Y/n jumped out of her chair as Tim snickered. “Yes!”
“Question one,” the Emcee began, “who is Batman’s first love interest?”
“Oh! Superman! Or the Joker!” Y/n shouted out.
“Damn it, Y/n!” Faye exclaimed as the Emcee hesitated and shook his head.
“I'm sorry, but it’s clear the Joker is Batman’s love interest in the Lego Batman Movie!” Y/n whined before turning to Jason. “Why couldn't you have just given me the three minutes?”
Landlord!Jason Todd wanted to do something with Bruce’s money. He had seen firsthand the sorrows of Gotham and even though he grew up under a billionaire's wing, poverty was never something one forgot
Landlord!Jason Todd did indeed have a dichotomy of morals from both his days on the street and as Batman’s protege, but one belief he took away from both was that the rich weren’t doing anything to help the majority
Landlord!Jason Todd took his remarks to Bruce. The billionaire was a philanthropist but urged his son to do the same. He gave Jason enough funds to buy a series of apartment buildings from corrupt landlords who were grossly overcharging their tenants
Landlord!Jason Todd entirely changed things. He lowered the rent and incorporated fixed prices. People came flocking in and soon he was making a steady profit. It also helped that he was skilled in handy things around the buildings and didn’t need to pay for plumbers or electricians unless truly out of his depth. (His childhood days stealing hubcaps and working with his hands were extremely useful. Who knew?)
Landlord!Jason Todd knew you as a name on a lease. You had moved into one of his apartments after graduating from Gotham University and needed a cheap place to live
Landlord!Jason Todd had met you once, when you first moved in. He gave you his number and you saved him in your phone as “Hot Landlord”
Landlord!Jason Todd showed up in jeans and a tight white t-shirt. From the moment you let him into your apartment, he could feel the heat. Your A/C was definitely not working. Controversy, you were in a tank-top and shorts. As he got to work, he wiped a sheen of sweat from his forehead. Meanwhile, you were all but gawking at your landlord. You knew a lot of pornos started this way, but holy shit, you didn’t understand the appeal until now. Not only was he hot, but it was like Jason’s presence in your apartment followed you. You tried to get some work done – dishes, emails, and whatnot, but you were acutely aware of him
Landlord!Jason Todd tried not to listen into your call when your phone rang, but what else was he supposed to do? The conversation didn’t get interesting until your voice dropped and you muttered into the phone, “babes, my hot landlord is here fixing my A/C. God, it’s like a fine snack just there in my living room.” You laughed and continued, “I almost wanna go in being like, ‘oh, no, I can’t pay my rent! However can I repay you?’”
Landlord!Jason Todd was a gentleman and didn’t wanna capitalise on that, especially since he didn’t know if you were joking or not, but his pants definitely got tighter
Landlord!Jason Todd knew he was attractive – he had been hit on many times before, but he did let his mind wander as if to what might happen with you. He wasn’t blind, after all, and your tank-top didn’t leave much to the imagination
Landlord!Jason Todd fixed the A/C and left but was horribly distracted the rest of the day
Landlord!Jason Todd got another text from you three weeks later. There was apparently a problem with your fridge. Jason was in the middle of a Bat-family dinner and just stood up, his chair screeching out from under him. “Gotta go,” he said simply, ignoring everyone’s protests
Landlord!Jason Todd stepped into your apartment with ease. “No problem at all. What’s the issue?” You were in the middle of dinner yourself and making noodles. You showed him the problem and practically drooled over him as he rolled up his sleeves, kneeled down, and got to work
Landlord!Jason Todd made idle conversation with you, but it wasn’t long before his hands migrated to your legs and his kneeling position aided him greatly in eating you out on the kitchen counter. Your nails dug into his forearms as you gasped out at the sight before you and the sensations Jason was bringing you. One of his hands was spreading your legs apart and the other was anchored on your hip. Your noodles burned, but neither of you cared
Landlord!Jason Todd was a talker during sex. He liked missionary best as you soon learned, wanting to see you as you came apart. That didn’t stop him from driving you into the mattress however, the headboard slamming into the wall. “Don’t worry, I’ll fix the plaster if it breaks,” he reassured you in a gruff voice as sweat beaded on his forehead. “Been thinking about this ever since I fixed the A/C. Heard you on the phone, you know.” You could only let out a little noise as his hips pumped into yours, rocking your body back and forth
Landlord!Jason Todd made fuck-buddies-with-your-landlord a great experience for you. He could stop in whenever and was very good at playing out your fantasies. Suddenly, your appliances just started breaking all the time and so there was no other choice but for him to come over and fix them. Oh no, how horrible. He would refuse any type of payment other than you in bed, clothes stripped off
Landlord!Jason Todd really really liked eating you out. He was a proud eater and would grow out his stubble or shave it, depending on what he wanted to give you that day. His stubble had even turned a lighter colour from how much time he spent between your legs
Landlord!Jason Todd didn’t love quickies or phone sex. He would still do them, especially if you were begging him to, but liked to take his time with you and do multiple rounds
Landlord!Jason Todd was very good at aftercare. He would wrap you up in one of his sweaters he conveniently had brought with him and clean you up so gently. He loved to tuck an arm under your head and you loved to subsequently bite his bicep usually leading to round two
Landlord!Jason Todd who was a bit nervous to ask you out officially. He loved your little rendezvous and knew you did too (you frequently made comments on how perfect his body was and would run your hands through his hair after sex) but didn’t want to fuck it up. Think of how awkward that would make it all, especially because of the power dynamic. He would never even consider using his position as your landlord against you and he made sure to tell you that over the dinner he took you to and the bouquet of flowers he got you
Landlord!Jason Todd who was actually surprised when you laughed and said, “of course I want to go out with you!” He hadn't believed it at first, thinking you had just wanted a good fuck, but when he saw your smile, he knew you were serious
Landlord!Jason Todd was a bit quieter of a man until it came to sex. He would let you take the lead with most conversations and was very polite whenever meeting your friends or family (though you knew his sarcastic sense of humour would come out when he felt more comfortable around them). However, when he had you in bed it was like he had no filter. Every comment about how perfect your body was or how you felt around his cock escaped him. The obscene things he would tell you he was gonna do to you while already fucking you made you even more wet
Landlord!Jason Todd had more talents other than the sex, though. Because of his naturally quiet nature, he was an incredible listener that absorbed things like a sponge. He remembered so many little details about you and utilised them magnificently. He would randomly buy little gifts or send you pictures of your favourite colour out in nature with the caption, “thinking of you,” which he constantly was
Landlord!Jason Todd was an incredible cook as well (everyone, thank Alfred)
Landlord!Jason Todd who, on your one year anniversary, realised your contact name for him still hadn't changed
Landlord!Jason Todd got teased relentlessly by his family about how obsessed he was over you
Landlord!Jason Todd knew he was gonna marry you when you slapped him over the head after mocking Damian at a Bat-family dinner
Landlord!Jason Todd let Bruce pay for the wedding, but Jason paid for the ring
Landlord!Jason Todd who proposed in your apartment after cooking you dinner. He was nervous as hell and stuttered over some words, but knew in his heart that you were it for him. He was so relieved when you said yes
Landlord!Jason Todd wanted to do something with Bruce’s money. He had seen firsthand the sorrows of Gotham and even though he grew up under a billionaire's wing, poverty was never something one forgot
Landlord!Jason Todd did indeed have a dichotomy of morals from both his days on the street and as Batman’s protege, but one belief he took away from both was that the rich weren’t doing anything to help the majority
Landlord!Jason Todd took his remarks to Bruce. The billionaire was a philanthropist but urged his son to do the same. He gave Jason enough funds to buy a series of apartment buildings from corrupt landlords who were grossly overcharging their tenants
Landlord!Jason Todd entirely changed things. He lowered the rent and incorporated fixed prices. People came flocking in and soon he was making a steady profit. It also helped that he was skilled in handy things around the buildings and didn’t need to pay for plumbers or electricians unless truly out of his depth. (His childhood days stealing hubcaps and working with his hands were extremely useful. Who knew?)
Landlord!Jason Todd knew you as a name on a lease. You had moved into one of his apartments after graduating from Gotham University and needed a cheap place to live
Landlord!Jason Todd had met you once, when you first moved in. He gave you his number and you saved him in your phone as “Hot Landlord”
Landlord!Jason Todd showed up in jeans and a tight white t-shirt. From the moment you let him into your apartment, he could feel the heat. Your A/C was definitely not working. Controversy, you were in a tank-top and shorts. As he got to work, he wiped a sheen of sweat from his forehead. Meanwhile, you were all but gawking at your landlord. You knew a lot of pornos started this way, but holy shit, you didn’t understand the appeal until now. Not only was he hot, but it was like Jason’s presence in your apartment followed you. You tried to get some work done – dishes, emails, and whatnot, but you were acutely aware of him
Landlord!Jason Todd tried not to listen into your call when your phone rang, but what else was he supposed to do? The conversation didn’t get interesting until your voice dropped and you muttered into the phone, “babes, my hot landlord is here fixing my A/C. God, it’s like a fine snack just there in my living room.” You laughed and continued, “I almost wanna go in being like, ‘oh, no, I can’t pay my rent! However can I repay you?’”
Landlord!Jason Todd was a gentleman and didn’t wanna capitalise on that, especially since he didn’t know if you were joking or not, but his pants definitely got tighter
Landlord!Jason Todd knew he was attractive – he had been hit on many times before, but he did let his mind wander as if to what might happen with you. He wasn’t blind, after all, and your tank-top didn’t leave much to the imagination
Landlord!Jason Todd fixed the A/C and left but was horribly distracted the rest of the day
Landlord!Jason Todd got another text from you three weeks later. There was apparently a problem with your fridge. Jason was in the middle of a Bat-family dinner and just stood up, his chair screeching out from under him. “Gotta go,” he said simply, ignoring everyone’s protests
Landlord!Jason Todd stepped into your apartment with ease. “No problem at all. What’s the issue?” You were in the middle of dinner yourself and making noodles. You showed him the problem and practically drooled over him as he rolled up his sleeves, kneeled down, and got to work
Landlord!Jason Todd made idle conversation with you, but it wasn’t long before his hands migrated to your legs and his kneeling position aided him greatly in eating you out on the kitchen counter. Your nails dug into his forearms as you gasped out at the sight before you and the sensations Jason was bringing you. One of his hands was spreading your legs apart and the other was anchored on your hip. Your noodles burned, but neither of you cared
Landlord!Jason Todd was a talker during sex. He liked missionary best as you soon learned, wanting to see you as you came apart. That didn’t stop him from driving you into the mattress however, the headboard slamming into the wall. “Don’t worry, I’ll fix the plaster if it breaks,” he reassured you in a gruff voice as sweat beaded on his forehead. “Been thinking about this ever since I fixed the A/C. Heard you on the phone, you know.” You could only let out a little noise as his hips pumped into yours, rocking your body back and forth
Landlord!Jason Todd made fuck-buddies-with-your-landlord a great experience for you. He could stop in whenever and was very good at playing out your fantasies. Suddenly, your appliances just started breaking all the time and so there was no other choice but for him to come over and fix them. Oh no, how horrible. He would refuse any type of payment other than you in bed, clothes stripped off
Landlord!Jason Todd really really liked eating you out. He was a proud eater and would grow out his stubble or shave it, depending on what he wanted to give you that day. His stubble had even turned a lighter colour from how much time he spent between your legs
Landlord!Jason Todd didn’t love quickies or phone sex. He would still do them, especially if you were begging him to, but liked to take his time with you and do multiple rounds
Landlord!Jason Todd was very good at aftercare. He would wrap you up in one of his sweaters he conveniently had brought with him and clean you up so gently. He loved to tuck an arm under your head and you loved to subsequently bite his bicep usually leading to round two
Landlord!Jason Todd who was a bit nervous to ask you out officially. He loved your little rendezvous and knew you did too (you frequently made comments on how perfect his body was and would run your hands through his hair after sex) but didn’t want to fuck it up. Think of how awkward that would make it all, especially because of the power dynamic. He would never even consider using his position as your landlord against you and he made sure to tell you that over the dinner he took you to and the bouquet of flowers he got you
Landlord!Jason Todd who was actually surprised when you laughed and said, “of course I want to go out with you!” He hadn't believed it at first, thinking you had just wanted a good fuck, but when he saw your smile, he knew you were serious
Landlord!Jason Todd was a bit quieter of a man until it came to sex. He would let you take the lead with most conversations and was very polite whenever meeting your friends or family (though you knew his sarcastic sense of humour would come out when he felt more comfortable around them). However, when he had you in bed it was like he had no filter. Every comment about how perfect your body was or how you felt around his cock escaped him. The obscene things he would tell you he was gonna do to you while already fucking you made you even more wet
Landlord!Jason Todd had more talents other than the sex, though. Because of his naturally quiet nature, he was an incredible listener that absorbed things like a sponge. He remembered so many little details about you and utilised them magnificently. He would randomly buy little gifts or send you pictures of your favourite colour out in nature with the caption, “thinking of you,” which he constantly was
Landlord!Jason Todd was an incredible cook as well (everyone, thank Alfred)
Landlord!Jason Todd who, on your one year anniversary, realised your contact name for him still hadn't changed
Landlord!Jason Todd got teased relentlessly by his family about how obsessed he was over you
Landlord!Jason Todd knew he was gonna marry you when you slapped him over the head after mocking Damian at a Bat-family dinner
Landlord!Jason Todd let Bruce pay for the wedding, but Jason paid for the ring
Landlord!Jason Todd who proposed in your apartment after cooking you dinner. He was nervous as hell and stuttered over some words, but knew in his heart that you were it for him. He was so relieved when you said yes
In which Jason wasn’t scared of anything before you came along
wk: 1.6k
Based on a tumblr post about Jason and fear toxin I saw on Pinterest 😅
Scarecrow’s fear toxin was known in the Bat-family as the thing that had caused Batman to abandon his morals. Jason felt an odd sense of schadenfreude pride in knowing the memory of his head caused Bruce to begin pounding villains without mercy. Many of the Bats had had an encounter with the fear toxin, even though Alfred was always quick to improve their immune systems against the new strain. Dick had delusions of his parents’ deaths during a confrontation with Scarecrow and Tim had fears of a conglomeration of hazy things, such as battles against Captain Boomerang, failing Bruce in some way, and losing Bernard. Damian, Cass, and Steph had similar problems.
Jason was unique in this way. He had used fear toxin once, against Dick, when he was still Red Hood and vehemently against the Bats, still tender from Bruce’s supposed betrayal.
The singular time fear toxin had been thrown in his face, however, Scarecrow was not prepared for the outcome. The villain had spent weeks recuperating in Arkham after Jason had repeatedly bashed Scarecrow’s head into a nearby car, screaming, “I died once, I’m not afraid of anything!” Later, when Dick heard the story, he burst out laughing.
Life routinely moved on afterwards. Jason slowly integrated back into the Bat-family, albeit with much caution and disgruntlement. A large part of that was because of your gentle urging.
Jason had met you in his apartment building. It was a modest building with modest apartments but just what Jason needed as an escape from his overbearing family. He was sure they all knew its whereabouts, but in an unusual stroke of kindness, let him have his solitude when need be. His apartment was mostly bare with just the essentials. It wasn’t long before that all changed and his definition of essentials expanded.
You came hurtling into his life like a comet.
Jason was returning home after a patrol one night, not caring who saw because it was only old Mrs. Arkady who was a blunt, half-blind bitch (but kept Jason fed as he reminded her of her grandson if the grandson was much taller and more buff) who lived on his floor.
You were handling a couple of large, empty boxes and a heavy garbage bag when you came face to face with Red Hood in full militia armour. Subsequently, you screamed. Mrs. Arkady came barrelling out into the hall, a rifle pointed at the ready, which caused you to scream again and drop the boxes and bag, which landed on your foot and you cursed loudly. Jason was quick to take off his helmet to assure you he was a normal man not going to hurt you, for secret identities weren’t at the forefront of his mind when an old lady held an AK-47 at him.
Somehow, a month later, this led to a date. (between you and him, not him and Mrs. Arkady.)
You were the best thing to happen to Jason, no doubt about it. You brought happiness into his life. Your apartment, so much brighter than his own, was full of knickknacks and sentimentality. He soon found himself woven into your life. Pictures of the two of you began appearing in both of your apartments, which turned into one apartment after the conclusion that paying for two leases while only utilising one house was idiotic. Jason moved to yours, no complaint on his end.
He felt a bit out of place in your life at first, a big brute with Red Hood armour metaphorically and literally in the closet. But Jason just adores you so much that his love outweighs his concern. It had made your relationship much easier that you knew he was Red Hood all along. There were no questions about why bruises bloomed randomly on his skin or why there was a gun hidden in the top cabinet.
Domesticity was Jason’s love language. There was something about the two of you sharing a space that made his heart flutter. He still took you on dates even when you lived together and nothing would ever change how he practically laid on top of you while sleeping even in the middle of summer (it got horribly frustrating and you tried to elbow him off but he was just so big).
You noticed little things like how his gruff voice softened just a touch whenever he talked to you. He liked to drink from one mug religiously and always had a spot under your jaw that he kissed.
There were arguments, sure, but mostly about his safety whenever he would come back with a patched up bullet wound Alfred had thankfully taken care of.
Coaxing him back towards his family had taken some time. There was so much history there, the majority of it bad, that made it hard for Jason to even consider it. He owed all of the reconciliation to you. The comment that won him over? “What if we ever have kids, Jay? I’d want them to know your family. And Bruce’s money would be helpful for all the baby toys…” He silenced your smirk with a firm kiss, chuckling against your lips.
A couple months after Jason had rejoined the Bat-family and their patrols, Scarecrow showed his face again. The villain had developed a new line of fear toxin that would penetrate the Bats’ immunity.
Jason, Dick, and Steph had been tasked with the fight and the combination of Dick and Steph’s humour made Jason ready to just get back to you and watch that TV show you were in the middle of. Unfortunately, the witty comments weren’t enough to stop the thorn that pierced Jason’s skin. It wasn’t long before he could feel the effects of the fear toxin laced on the thorn.
The rest of the fight didn’t take long and Jason was soon stumbling back to his apartment. He knew something was wrong the moment he stepped onto the floor. A trail of blood made his skin prick with terror as his eyes followed to the body of Mrs. Arkady, her rifle still by her side.
He cursed himself for freezing, those precious seconds already lost as his feet finally began pounding along the floor.
The lock was broken when he skidded to a stop in front of your apartment. “Y/n?” he breathed out before shouting your name again. His voice was hoarse by the time he finished ransacking the already destroyed apartment. All protocol about possible hostage situations or break-ins left his mind. He didn’t even take out his gun.
A strangled choke ripped from his mouth that turned into a wail. You were curled in bed, bloody sheets around you. “Y/n?” he pleaded. Slowly, he crouched down next to you.
“Jay?” you managed, though blood dribbled from your lips. There was too much blood surrounding you. No. He couldn’t lose you. He couldn’t. “Where were you?” you asked, reaching out a hand. Jason clutched it to his chest.
“It’s okay. You’ll be okay,” he insisted. “We can fix this. The hospital— or, or Alfred. Y/n, please,” he begged.
You coughed and your face twisted into agony as the movement disrupted the wound. “I don’t think…” You exhaled. “Jay, where were you?”
“Jay? Jason. Jason! Snap out of it!”
“I’m sure that’s real helpful, Dick,” a distinctly female voice that was not yours cut through the mud in Jason’s mind.
Jason promptly turned to his side and threw up. A chorus of ‘ew’ came from around him. “That’ll be the toxin exiting his body,” a man muttered, who Jason would know anywhere: Alfred.
The man blinked four times and slowly, the image of you bleeding out faded from behind his eyelids. “What?” he croaked out, turning onto his back. The faces of the Wayne family came into his line of sight. “Where’s Y/n?”
Dick was still in his Nightwing suit. “Scarecrow got you with some toxin. You were just… out of it,” he concluded.
Steph continued, “we had to bring you back to the Manor. You were screaming Y/n’s name the entire time. It was a battle, to say the least. You almost gave Dick a black eye.” The eldest of the Bat-family clicked his tongue dramatically.
“But it didn’t impact me last time.”
Alfred smiled knowingly at Jason. “Well, perhaps you have something now to fear, Master Todd,” he said.
“So she’s okay?” Jason forced himself to sit up and Alfred helped him up.
“We sent Damian to check,” Bruce said in a calming voice. “We knew you’d want to know. He reported that everything is fine and they’re watching a TV show.”
Jason frowned. “What TV show?”
Bruce hesitated and glanced at Steph, who shrugged. “Uh, I believe it’s called Parks and Recreation, though I don’t see why that’s pertinent—“
“That little shit!” Jason exclaimed. “We’re watching that! Damian has no right!”
“Jason, perhaps you should rest more,” Alfred cajoled.
The man huffed and was already moving towards the door. “Not when Parks and Rec is on the line.”
It was only fifteen minutes later when the door to your apartment banged open. “Hey, baby!” you greeted. Damian sat next to you, still in his Robin uniform, mask even still on. He had a blanket covering him and a bowl of popcorn in his lap. On the TV, Leslie Knope was talking to Ron Swanson.
Jason stammered out something before pointing to the TV. “You’re cheating on me!”
“Damian wanted to watch,” you countered. “He’s your brother. What am I supposed to do?”
“Not cheat on me!” Jason threw off pieces of his armour before squishing down between you and Damian on the couch. He gathered you into his arms and pouted, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Can’t believe you.” You laughed quietly and apologised with a kiss.
He’d tell you about the fear toxin later, but now? He just needed to hold you.
Jason Todd taglist: @phoenix666stuff @123-ignore-me
(A Jason Todd headcanons will be coming out shortly!!)
idk if this could be considered a request so u can ignore BUT!!
what if barbarian king!simon accidentally got his queen pregnant for the third time? just a wonder, not in canon XP lol
Oh my goodness, yeah, she would never allow that 😂 Simon would be given a very very stern talking to. Meanwhile, he would just be imagining her pregnant belly again. She would probably punish him with no sex (until she gives in because hormones and have you seen Simon?). Maxwell would roll his eyes (having being old enough to know what caused a kid) and the triplets would just be excited for the family to grow. The three clans would be ecstatic and so many parties would be thrown to honour their Queen
In which Jason wasn’t scared of anything before you came along
wk: 1.6k
Based on a tumblr post about Jason and fear toxin I saw on Pinterest 😅
Scarecrow’s fear toxin was known in the Bat-family as the thing that had caused Batman to abandon his morals. Jason felt an odd sense of schadenfreude pride in knowing the memory of his head caused Bruce to begin pounding villains without mercy. Many of the Bats had had an encounter with the fear toxin, even though Alfred was always quick to improve their immune systems against the new strain. Dick had delusions of his parents’ deaths during a confrontation with Scarecrow and Tim had fears of a conglomeration of hazy things, such as battles against Captain Boomerang, failing Bruce in some way, and losing Bernard. Damian, Cass, and Steph had similar problems.
Jason was unique in this way. He had used fear toxin once, against Dick, when he was still Red Hood and vehemently against the Bats, still tender from Bruce’s supposed betrayal.
The singular time fear toxin had been thrown in his face, however, Scarecrow was not prepared for the outcome. The villain had spent weeks recuperating in Arkham after Jason had repeatedly bashed Scarecrow’s head into a nearby car, screaming, “I died once, I’m not afraid of anything!” Later, when Dick heard the story, he burst out laughing.
Life routinely moved on afterwards. Jason slowly integrated back into the Bat-family, albeit with much caution and disgruntlement. A large part of that was because of your gentle urging.
Jason had met you in his apartment building. It was a modest building with modest apartments but just what Jason needed as an escape from his overbearing family. He was sure they all knew its whereabouts, but in an unusual stroke of kindness, let him have his solitude when need be. His apartment was mostly bare with just the essentials. It wasn’t long before that all changed and his definition of essentials expanded.
You came hurtling into his life like a comet.
Jason was returning home after a patrol one night, not caring who saw because it was only old Mrs. Arkady who was a blunt, half-blind bitch (but kept Jason fed as he reminded her of her grandson if the grandson was much taller and more buff) who lived on his floor.
You were handling a couple of large, empty boxes and a heavy garbage bag when you came face to face with Red Hood in full militia armour. Subsequently, you screamed. Mrs. Arkady came barrelling out into the hall, a rifle pointed at the ready, which caused you to scream again and drop the boxes and bag, which landed on your foot and you cursed loudly. Jason was quick to take off his helmet to assure you he was a normal man not going to hurt you, for secret identities weren’t at the forefront of his mind when an old lady held an AK-47 at him.
Somehow, a month later, this led to a date. (between you and him, not him and Mrs. Arkady.)
You were the best thing to happen to Jason, no doubt about it. You brought happiness into his life. Your apartment, so much brighter than his own, was full of knickknacks and sentimentality. He soon found himself woven into your life. Pictures of the two of you began appearing in both of your apartments, which turned into one apartment after the conclusion that paying for two leases while only utilising one house was idiotic. Jason moved to yours, no complaint on his end.
He felt a bit out of place in your life at first, a big brute with Red Hood armour metaphorically and literally in the closet. But Jason just adores you so much that his love outweighs his concern. It had made your relationship much easier that you knew he was Red Hood all along. There were no questions about why bruises bloomed randomly on his skin or why there was a gun hidden in the top cabinet.
Domesticity was Jason’s love language. There was something about the two of you sharing a space that made his heart flutter. He still took you on dates even when you lived together and nothing would ever change how he practically laid on top of you while sleeping even in the middle of summer (it got horribly frustrating and you tried to elbow him off but he was just so big).
You noticed little things like how his gruff voice softened just a touch whenever he talked to you. He liked to drink from one mug religiously and always had a spot under your jaw that he kissed.
There were arguments, sure, but mostly about his safety whenever he would come back with a patched up bullet wound Alfred had thankfully taken care of.
Coaxing him back towards his family had taken some time. There was so much history there, the majority of it bad, that made it hard for Jason to even consider it. He owed all of the reconciliation to you. The comment that won him over? “What if we ever have kids, Jay? I’d want them to know your family. And Bruce’s money would be helpful for all the baby toys…” He silenced your smirk with a firm kiss, chuckling against your lips.
A couple months after Jason had rejoined the Bat-family and their patrols, Scarecrow showed his face again. The villain had developed a new line of fear toxin that would penetrate the Bats’ immunity.
Jason, Dick, and Steph had been tasked with the fight and the combination of Dick and Steph’s humour made Jason ready to just get back to you and watch that TV show you were in the middle of. Unfortunately, the witty comments weren’t enough to stop the thorn that pierced Jason’s skin. It wasn’t long before he could feel the effects of the fear toxin laced on the thorn.
The rest of the fight didn’t take long and Jason was soon stumbling back to his apartment. He knew something was wrong the moment he stepped onto the floor. A trail of blood made his skin prick with terror as his eyes followed to the body of Mrs. Arkady, her rifle still by her side.
He cursed himself for freezing, those precious seconds already lost as his feet finally began pounding along the floor.
The lock was broken when he skidded to a stop in front of your apartment. “Y/n?” he breathed out before shouting your name again. His voice was hoarse by the time he finished ransacking the already destroyed apartment. All protocol about possible hostage situations or break-ins left his mind. He didn’t even take out his gun.
A strangled choke ripped from his mouth that turned into a wail. You were curled in bed, bloody sheets around you. “Y/n?” he pleaded. Slowly, he crouched down next to you.
“Jay?” you managed, though blood dribbled from your lips. There was too much blood surrounding you. No. He couldn’t lose you. He couldn’t. “Where were you?” you asked, reaching out a hand. Jason clutched it to his chest.
“It’s okay. You’ll be okay,” he insisted. “We can fix this. The hospital— or, or Alfred. Y/n, please,” he begged.
You coughed and your face twisted into agony as the movement disrupted the wound. “I don’t think…” You exhaled. “Jay, where were you?”
“Jay? Jason. Jason! Snap out of it!”
“I’m sure that’s real helpful, Dick,” a distinctly female voice that was not yours cut through the mud in Jason’s mind.
Jason promptly turned to his side and threw up. A chorus of ‘ew’ came from around him. “That’ll be the toxin exiting his body,” a man muttered, who Jason would know anywhere: Alfred.
The man blinked four times and slowly, the image of you bleeding out faded from behind his eyelids. “What?” he croaked out, turning onto his back. The faces of the Wayne family came into his line of sight. “Where’s Y/n?”
Dick was still in his Nightwing suit. “Scarecrow got you with some toxin. You were just… out of it,” he concluded.
Steph continued, “we had to bring you back to the Manor. You were screaming Y/n’s name the entire time. It was a battle, to say the least. You almost gave Dick a black eye.” The eldest of the Bat-family clicked his tongue dramatically.
“But it didn’t impact me last time.”
Alfred smiled knowingly at Jason. “Well, perhaps you have something now to fear, Master Todd,” he said.
“So she’s okay?” Jason forced himself to sit up and Alfred helped him up.
“We sent Damian to check,” Bruce said in a calming voice. “We knew you’d want to know. He reported that everything is fine and they’re watching a TV show.”
Jason frowned. “What TV show?”
Bruce hesitated and glanced at Steph, who shrugged. “Uh, I believe it’s called Parks and Recreation, though I don’t see why that’s pertinent—“
“That little shit!” Jason exclaimed. “We’re watching that! Damian has no right!”
“Jason, perhaps you should rest more,” Alfred cajoled.
The man huffed and was already moving towards the door. “Not when Parks and Rec is on the line.”
It was only fifteen minutes later when the door to your apartment banged open. “Hey, baby!” you greeted. Damian sat next to you, still in his Robin uniform, mask even still on. He had a blanket covering him and a bowl of popcorn in his lap. On the TV, Leslie Knope was talking to Ron Swanson.
Jason stammered out something before pointing to the TV. “You’re cheating on me!”
“Damian wanted to watch,” you countered. “He’s your brother. What am I supposed to do?”
“Not cheat on me!” Jason threw off pieces of his armour before squishing down between you and Damian on the couch. He gathered you into his arms and pouted, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Can’t believe you.” You laughed quietly and apologised with a kiss.
He’d tell you about the fear toxin later, but now? He just needed to hold you.
Jason Todd taglist: @phoenix666stuff @123-ignore-me
(A Jason Todd headcanons will be coming out shortly!!)
Would you guys read a fic series where you don’t know the love interest (like from an obscure fandom) but the plot doesn’t revolve around them? Like, I have an idea for a new fic, but don’t know who I want the character to be yet
Yeah, it would be like reading an OC x reader
No, I’d rather you stick to characters you’ve already written
Wtf are you talking about
Results
Voting ended onMay 8
After I post my other fics ofc
Edit: like, the love inter is obviously a part of it, but it’s an AU so you don’t need to know about the fandom or the characters or anything
summary: for the entire year you and jason have known each other, he assumed you two were dating and had no idea that you weren't.
warnings: none but lmk if i missed something, just jason being oblivious, might be a little ooc
UNEDITED!!!
jason isn't stupid—he knows there's rules that define whether or not two people are dating. but he is just a bit dense.
you'd met on a rooftop about a year ago, a classic vigilante encounter. instant tension, instant bickering between you and jason. he hadn't been entirely smitten. he simply thought you were beautiful, but that didn't mean anything.
not until you two start working together. bruce sends the two of you out on a mission, and you say something along the lines of, "let's make it a date, then." you said it with such an arrogant, cheeky grin.
and because that mission had gone so well, you and jason are consistently sent out together. alone.
because you'd said "let's make it a date!" he began to say it back. just a little joke. he'd say something like, "save the date..." quite bashfully. and you'd snicker and agree.
and that consistency is what makes jason think the two of you have started dating.
every single time the two of you are dispatched on a mission, it's always "save the date" or "let's make it a date" with you.
it happened so effortlessly, in his mind. so seamlessly. he doesn't feel like he needs to perform around you. he's not a blushing mess, he doesn't stutter or even treat you very differently, hence why you don't notice that he thinks the two of you are together.
except for when he stops by and gets little trinkets. maybe a stick of chocolate for valentines day. not flowers, because he wasn't able to gauge whether or not you'd want some.
for your birthday, he got you a small gift. something that reminded him of a childhood story you'd once babbled on about.
he's just a little bit sweeter and a little bit softer around you, compared to when he's conversing with other teammates.
this you notice, and you begin to consider that maybe he has feelings for you. a little crush. but you'd never in a million years consider that he thought you guys were fully dating.
his strange acts of kindness spark a tiny crush inside of you. you're spending more time with him. enjoying your missions with him just a bit more. laughing, smiling. and he begins to feel like home.
you wonder—should you ask him out? he doesn't seem like he's going to make a move any time soon. and, after all, he's been picking up so many small gifts for you here and there. maybe he's waiting for you to do something.
so, one night, you consult his brothers.
"jason likes you. i can tell," dick reassures. "he likes being around you, whether that's as friends or because he likes likes you, i dunno."
"definitely," tim had said. "jason with chocolates in his hand? never seen before. until you."
damian rolled his eyes when you asked. he scoffed and said, "i've been waiting for you to catch on. why don't you just ask each other out already?"
they act like jason is acting so differently. perhaps you just don't know him as well as they do.
one night, on a mission, you gather enough courage to turn to him and ask. "hey..."
"yeah?" he says, tipping his head towards the starless sky.
"i...um...i know we do a lot together. and i don't want to ruin our friendship."
"friendship?"
you nod. did jason even consider you a friend? why did he seem so confused? "yeah. i just...i really like having you around. so don't make it weird, okay?"
he dips his head. "okay...?"
"do you...want to go on a date with me?"
he blinks. once, twice. "are we not on one right now?"
you shrug. "i mean, i would hardly consider this a date." you gesture to the honking cars below, to your feet swinging off the edge of the roof.
"why are you asking me out?" he says, leaning forward.
you're a little stunned. a bit hurt. "because...i like you? because we spend a lot of time together and i think you're fun to be around? i don't know."
jason waves his hands in the air. "yeah, i know. but...why? i mean, we're already dating. if you wanted to go for a date and not have to go on a mission at the same time, you could've just said—"
"i'm sorry, what?"
"you...could've just said you wanted to do something different for our dates?"
you shake your head frantically. "no, no, no. you said that...you just said that we're dating?"
he stares at you like you're the one not making sense. "yeah...?"
"we're not dating, jason."
his mask hisses as he pries it off his face. his brows furrow and his cheeks redden with embarrassment. "we're...not?" he says it so softly, so painfully that you almost want to convince him that you are dating him.
"jason...oh, jason. did you think that all our talk about dates made this a date?" you can barely stifle your laughter. "jason, oh jason...you're so sweet. darling, it's an expression."
"so we're...not dating?"
"how long have you thought that?"
"about a year now." bashfully, jason's shoulders sink. "i thought we were, since you never turned down any of my gifts."
"i just thought that was you being nice. i'm sorry, i never thought to give you anything back. i just...thought you were being nice."
"of course i was just being nice. i...liked having you around."
it sounds silly saying it all aloud, but now that you think of it, jason's loyalty to you was plain as day. he was a reserved person, so it was easy to think he was just being a loner, like usual.
there was time the two of you went undercover. two girls had been ruthlessly vying for his attention. both infinitely attractive. some men, too. and he hadn't even blinked. you assumed he was just playing his part when he scooped you into his arms and wouldn't let go of you the entire night.
the way he listened to you—that gift he'd bought you for your birthday. reminiscent of some stupid childhood story you'd told him on some meaningless, random night. yet he'd remembered.
because that night hadn't been meaningless to him. no night with you had been meaningless.
perhaps he wasn't dense or stupid for thinking the two of you were already dating. perhaps you were in fact the dense one, for not seeing the signs. for not seeing how sweet he was sooner, for how silently loyal he was.
"jason." you loop his hand in yours. his pulse beats steadily. he's not nervous around you. neither are you anymore. "how long did you say we were dating?"
"we're not—"
"how long did you say we were dating for?"
he bites his lip. "tomorrow would've been...uh, our one year anniversary. i didn't know if you wanted me to plan something. you didn't seem to care very much, like the people do in the movies." because you hadn't even known. "i did want to plan something, though. you just never seemed like an 'event' sorta person." he chuckles. "i guess...i guess i know why, now."
"i love surprises," you mutter. "you can still plan something. there's still time."
"but we're not...you said we're not dating." he just seems so damn sad about it.
you shake your head. "what're you talking about?" you grin and rest your head on his shoulder. you can't believe he thought you just didn't like events, you didn't want to cuddle. you just hadn't known.
so you smile, allowing the stench of gotham celebrate the countdown to your first anniversary. the moon hangs high in the sky, and you check your watch. midnight strikes, and you snuggle into jason.
"happy one year anniversary, jay."
Queens are supposed to have honour @miryum - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
