big beefy boyfriend Bruce Wayne who knows you don't like the paparazzi taking pictures of you when you're out bc you just don't like how they twist the look on your face into disdain and so when a big crowd of paparazzi start flooding around him he wraps his arm over you shoulder and presses you into his chest he then presses his hand over your face, splaying his fingers to cover as much of it as possible so now your face is covered by his big hand and your body is pressed into his side and he knows you can't see so he leads you to the car and the gently pushes you into the car first so his wide shoulders can cover you before he gets in and slams the door on the paparazzi only then Gotham starts to think Bruce is a manhandler and likes to throw his partner around in the bedroom
content: jason todd x gn!reader. no use of y/n. established relationship. pure fluff <3.
after a long day at the mall, you and jason were absolutely exhausted from all the shopping and walking around. you held onto his arm as you both walked toward the exit.
that’s when you noticed the photo booth up ahead. “jay?”
“yeah, baby?”
“could we do the photo booth before we go?” you ask, smiling up at him.
“umm, i don’t know. sometimes those pictures don’t come out that good.”
“please? it’ll be really cute!”
you take jason’s hand and pull him to the booth.
jason sits next to you on the bench in the tiny booth. your arm linking with his. he inserts his card to pay before you both begin to pose.
the first photo is both of you sticking your tongues out. the second being jason pecking your cheek and you smiling with your eyes shut tight. the third being you kissing each other on the lips.
before the camera snaps the fourth picture, jason turns to you, both his hands cupping your face. “i love you, honey,” his cheeks are now red and he’s smiling nervously.
“jaybie!!” the camera captures your joyful reaction. “i love you too.” that was the very first time he said that to you. and it was the perfect time to say it.
that photo strip is now taped to your vanity mirror. along with little love notes and polaroids of jason and you.
jason todd never indulged in gossip
“you’re fucking with me”
“honest to god”
why would he? it was immature and ill-mannered to talk about someone’s life! their decisions are their decisions
“she slept with him. in his office”
“yup”
... at least that's what he liked to believe in
jason gave you the most baffled look you’ve ever seen on his face. it made you snort and wave a hand at his face. “hello? earth to jason”
immediately, jason blinked and snapped out of it. both of you were sitting on the couch, your legs sprawled on his lap and his hands idly tracing your knee.
“wait wait wait—" he slightly shifted his body to face you, the traces on your knee stopping as his large, warm hand just rested flat on it. “let me get this straight. you’re telling me that nancy—"
“uh huh”
“the same one who tried to get your promotion months ago--"
“that’s her”
“was caught sleeping with your boss at his office—"
“not caught, per se.”
“whatever” jason waved it off and continued. “and to top it off, she’s married to drew for— how long?”
“8 years” you hummed, scooting closer to him and biting your bottom lip to hold back a laugh from the look on his face as he was processing this new information you gave him. and when it did, he just sighed and shook his head, his fingers now resuming the slow and lazy circles he traced on your knee.
“sweetheart, your office environment is crazy” you could still hear how he was still slightly bewildered from the bombshell you just dropped on him. he was also confused as to why HR wasn't involved already
“hey, it pays the bills” you joked, lifting a hand to run through jason’s soft hair in that slow and gentle manner that always had him melt into your touch. “plus, at least there’s something to keep me entertained while i work in boredom”
“you know you can leave your job and i can take care of everything, right?” jason reminded you— for what felt like the millionth time—but you just smiled softly and nodded. “yeah i know, but how else am i gonna come bearing news to you?”
“…touché. i still need to know why carol and jesse aren’t talking to each other”
now that you couldn’t hold your laugh for. the wide smile on your face and your laugh softened jason’s eyes, a smile of his own appearing. his hand slipped beneath your knee to pull you close, the other hand cupping your face as he pulled you into a kiss
you could practically feel the smile on his face turn into a grin, and it made your smile grow as you kissed him back. it was a kiss of quiet contentment— slow, familiar and overflowing with the kind of affection that only came from loving someone for a long time
his hand remained cradling your cheek, his thumb lazily brushing across your skin with a small hum slipping out from your fingers combing through his hair
slowly, both of you broke the kiss, foreheads leaning on one another with nothing but pure love and adoration for one another
“so how was your night?” you asked, now laying your head on his chest. he just hummed, shifting his arm to drape over your shoulders and keep you close. “it was fine”
a beat
“…so bruce was basically being annoying like always and—"
okay maybe jason indulged in some gossip. keyword—some
After a long night of patrol/training, you find your boyfriend passed out. Naturally, you take this as an opportunity to execute another prank; setting up a fake Uno pile, fanning out a hand directly into his sleepy grip, and waking him up insisting it’s his turn.
characters: Jason Todd, Wally West, Dick Grayson, Roy Harper, Damian Wayne, Conner Kent x Reader
Jason Todd
The plan was foolproof. While Jay was out cold on his side of the bed, you quietly shuffled the deck, set up a random discard pile right on the duvet, and expertly fanned out four cards to slip straight into his massive, relaxed palm. You smoothed down the blanket, took your seat, and nudged his chest.
"Jay. Baby. Come on, it’s your turn. You’ve been taking forever."
You pout, “I’m getting impatient. And you’re just sleeping.”
Jason grunts, his brow furrowing as his brain painfully tries to boot back up. His fingers automatically clamp onto the cards. He blinks heavily, squints at the bright green and red cards in his grip, and you can see the sheer confusion hit him—followed immediately by the stubborn refusal to admit he was passed out.
He forces himself to sit up, dragging a hand aggressively down his face and rubbing his eyes with his sleeve, refusing to give up and lay back down. Voice raspy and deep as hell, he stares intensely down at his hand, shifting the cards around in slow motion.
"I wasn't sleeping, I was thinking," he lies, his voice totally shot. He leans forward, bleary-eyed, meticulously scanning your fake pile. "What's... what's on top? Is that a green?" He stubbornly forces his heavy eyelids open, carefully picks a green card out, and slaps it down like a grandmaster. "There. Go."
Wally West
Wally was sleeping so deeply he was practically drooling on his pillow. Perfect. You fanned out five cards, tucked them gently between his fingers, and made sure the discard pile looked legit right in frost of him. You tapped his arm with a tired sigh.
"Wally. Hey. Lay a card down, you're holding up the game."
Wally snaps his eyes open, completely disoriented. He looks down at his hand, blinks twice, and panic immediately sets in—he thinks he blew his turn and lost his streak. He refuses to go back to sleep. He forces himself up onto his elbows, shaking his head like a wet dog to fight the massive wall of tiredness, completely buying into the trap.
"Wait, wait, sorry baby, my bad, my bad," he stammers out, his voice a pathetic, sleepy whine. He squints hard at his cards, shuffling them back and forth with clumsy fingers, his forehead creased in absolute, intense concentration. "Did you... did you play a yellow? Sweetie, tell me what color it is, my eyes are blurry." He stubbornly sits there, fighting for his life against sleep, until he finally drops a Yellow 2 and looks at you with absolute, half-awake seriousness. "Okay, hit me."
Dick Grayson
Dick was dead to the world after patrol, curled on his side. You carefully laid out a trick hand, slid six cards into his palm, and set up the fake table right on the mattress. You leaned down and whispered right in his ear.
"Dickie. Stop slacking, it's your turn."
He lets out a heavy, groggy sigh, his eyelids fluttering open. He stares blankly at the cards in his hand for a long three seconds. Instead of falling back asleep, he complies, because of course, he has to trust his amazing girlfriend. He grunts, forcing himself to sit halfway up and propping his head on one hand, completely committed to staying awake for the "match."
He holds the fan of cards up right in front of his face, squinting so hard one eye is basically closed. "I'm not slacking..." he mutters, his voice super thick and raspy. He carefully reorganizes his hand, tapping a card against his chin in deep thought while fighting off a yawn. "Is that a Blue 4? Okay. Don’t rush me. Hold on." He meticulously selects a card, lays it down with dramatic focus, and squints up at you. "Your turn sweetie.”
Roy Harper
Roy had taken a "five-minute nap" that turned into two hours. You placed a stack of fake played cards on the blanket, carefully placed a fan of seven cards into his grip, and shook his shoulder.
"Roy. Wake up, you're up."
Roy grunts, a dry, scratchy sound, and blinks open two bleary eyes.
“Up for wha— oh right.” He looks down at the cards, and you can practically hear his brain trying to load at 1%. But Roy isn't a quitter. He groans softly, forcing himself to sit up against the headboard, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with his palm to snap out of it.
"...What was played?" he rasps out, his voice totally rough. He stares intensely down at his cards, fanning them out with heavy, slow movements, totally convinced he's mid-game. He stubbornly stays upright, blinking against the room light, carefully picking out a Red 6 and laying it on the pile. "There. Back to you."
Damian Wayne
Damian would never admit to being caught off guard, which made him the ultimate target. While he was dead asleep post-training, you delicately slid four cards between his fingers, placed the deck down, and crossed your arms.
"Damian. Hurry up, it's your turn."
His eyes instantly open, sharp even through the haze of sleep. He looks down at his hand, and for a split second, total confusion flashes across his face. But his pride won't allow him to back down or drop the cards. He immediately sits bolt upright, rigid as a board, holding his hand close to his chest so you can't peek.
He squeezes his eyes shut for a second to force the drowsiness away, squinting severely at his hand. "I am well aware," he lies in a low, crackly morning voice. He takes an agonizingly long time analyzing his four cards, fighting every urge to crash back onto his pillow, just to make a "calculated" move. He solemnly lays down a Wild card with absolute precision. "Blue. Proceed."
Conner Kent
Conner was passed out hard, snoring softly. You quickly set up the illusion—cards scattered, a neat discard pile, and five cards tucked firmly into his fingers. You poked his shoulder.
"Con, come on, stop taking so long."
Conner groans, shaking his head, his heavy eyelids barely parting. He looks down at his palm, and the utter panic of someone who thinks they fell asleep mid-hangout hits him. He forces himself up, sitting on the edge of the bed, dragging both hands over his face to force his brain awake.
"Shoot— sorry, I was just... thinking," he stammers out, completely tricked. He holds his cards up, squinting heavily through his messy hair, intensely analyzing the hand. He shifts the cards around between his thumbs, completely locked in. "Wait, what's the number on top? A five?" He hovers a card over the pile, double-checking it with dead seriousness before dropping a Draw Two with a smug, sleepy grin. "Boom. Draw two. Try and keep up."
You're so Wayne - Bruce Wayne x reader smau (pt.2)
🎧: You're so vain by Carly Simon (obviously) link to part 1
A/n: THANK YOU SO MUCH for the love on the last one, i was going through the comments with such a huge grin on my face. hopefully this does justice to what ya'll were expecting. there's a lot of yearning bruce wayne in this. enjoyyy <33
gothamite
gothamite More archived posts of the old couple since a certain someone liked the last bunch.
liked by brucewayne, selinakyle and 8,05,600 others
ashley_t_ THERE'S NO WAY. HE DID IT AGAIN.
gothamgossip THIS MAN HAS NO SHAME
penguins_umbrella the way he's just openly liking these now
taylikesit someone take his phone. alfred. ALFRED.
yourusername oh come on.
texts between you and bruce:
yourusername
yourusername spent hours trying to find a signed vinyl of my favourite album (folklore btw) but at least i got to spend time with steph <3
liked by brucewayne, stephaniebrown and 6,113,900 others.
stephaniebrown this is tragic, i'm genuinely mourning with you
yourusername i've been waiting for weeks :(
taylikesit I saw that restock and thought of you girl
jasontodd Tragic.
yourusername can never understand your sarcasm.
brucewayne posted a story!
gothamgossip
gothamgossip BRUCE POSTING THIS ON HIS STORY IS ACTUALLY INSANE WORK. AND THE CAPTION BEING "it's yours." IM SCREAMING.
liked by yourusername, stephaniebrown and 500,930 others.
gothamite HE ACTUALLY BOUGHT IT
taylikesit he's actually insane and i love it
ashley_t_ he actually pulled his strings i'm crying
stephaniebrown he's been on the phone for 4 hours trying to get that. don't let him fool you.
A/n: Part two is finally out!! there will be a part 3 whenever i find the motivation to write and get enough pictures </3 but i just wanted to say, thank you so so much for the love on this. i'm getting requests for a taglist for the very first time so i'm so giddy :D
batboys x anxious reader who subconsciously grabs his bicep/elbow in public cause she needs something to hold onto and needs to be close to them in public because “what if…” ykwim? idk i struggle w anxiety and i do this all the time😓😓
comfort grabs
SUMMARY: how i think each batboy would react to their lady holding him for comfort!
featuring... dick grayson, jason todd, bruce wayne, and damian wayne
warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort if u squint, f!reader, established relationships (gf for everyone but wife for bruce—that man is too grown to have a gf), reader has anxiety duh, reader eats chicken at raising canes (pretend that exists in gotham idfk), pet names
wc: 1.07k
dick grayson:
You and Dick are weaving through Gotham's busy streets, headed back to your apartment after visiting the coffee shop downtown you'd been begging your boyfriend to try.
You're trying to have a nice time—a peaceful, hand-in-hand walk with your lover—but you just can't shake the feeling that something is wrong.
There's too many people, too many men eyeing your purse like they're going to rip it off your shoulder at any moment. You don't like it, not one bit. The intense pounding of your heart in your chest and the ringing in your ears isn't helping either.
So, instinctively, you tighten your grip on Dick's hand and bring your other to the crook of his elbow, holding him there. Finally, he glances down at you, smiling softly. "You good?" he murmurs, voice low in your ear so only you can hear it over the bustle of Gotham.
You nod, squeezing his bicep. Your heart slows, head clearing. You're suddenly able to get more air into your lungs now that you're close to him. Surely, with big, tall Dick Grayson this close to you, nobody will hurt you—he'll protect you, you're certain of it.
"I'm good," you reply finally, lengthening your strides to keep up with his long legs. "Let's just get home, please."
Wordlessly, he guides you through the crowd. Once things are less crowded and he can slow his pace, he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, petting your hair in a soothing motion. "You're okay," he assures you. "I've got you, baby."
jason todd:
"Jay…?" Your voice is small and shaky. You know he's probably sick of you—you've been glued to his side all throughout Bruce's gala, too afraid to go talk alone with a bunch of rich socialites that you don't know.
He glances over at you, pulling away from his conversation with Dick. "Hi, doll. What do ya need?" he asks gently, one large hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from your face.
"I need to go to the bathroom, but it's all the way across the room and—"
"—you want me to walk you," he concludes, knowing you far too well. "Sure, ma. Let's go."
He sets his drink down, trusting his brother to watch it, and begins the walk to the restrooms. You follow, reaching out to curl your fingers around his bicep. He slows his steps, letting you hold on comfortably before continuing. "They're not as mean as your pretty head has made them out to be, y'know," he murmurs softly, looking at you sweetly. He brushes that same strand of hair from your eyes, smiling gently in a way nobody would expect from Jason.
"I don't believe you," you huff. "I think you're just trying to placate me, Jay."
He chuckles softly, weaving you both through women in gowns and men in suits, shielding you from all the nosy riches with his body. Your hands never leave his arm, and the fact that he makes you feel so safe makes him smile to himself. "I know you're nervous," he tells you, flashing you an understanding look. "I feel like I can hear your heart pounding."
When you don't reply after a bit, he stops your walk at a pair of armchairs and sits you down in one. "Tell me I'm wrong, babygirl," he murmurs, kneeling in front of you. He clasps his hands in yours, thumbs circling soothingly over your palms.
"…You're right," you concede, sighing. "I just— there's so much going on, and I'm uncomfortable. I feel like a child."
He stands, kissing your hairline softly as you rise from the chair. "C'mon. You go to the bathroom, take your time, then we'll head out of here."
"Bruce won't be mad?"
"If he is, he'll have to take it up with me. Let's get ice cream at the gas station on the way back, then we'll lay on the couch and watch a show. K?"
"…Okay, Jay."
bruce wayne:
"Isn't this pretty, darling?" Bruce croons, holding a delicate, intricate diamond necklace in his large hand. His arm is draped comfortingly around your waist as you browse an expensive jewelry store. It's stunning, but all you can think about is how it's too stuffy in here and the workers are definitely giving you dirty looks.
You hate it, how restricted you feel.
You hum, nodding absentmindedly. "Pretty, Bruce," is all you say, continuing to look around. Subconsciously, your eyes track down each and every exit—y'know, just in case.
Bruce clocks it almost immediately. He sets the beautiful necklace back onto its holder, frowning at you. His thumb strokes over your hip, grounding you in a way. "What's wrong?" he queries, gentle eyes falling on yours.
You give him your best everything-is-okay smile, meeting his concerned gaze. "Nothing."
"Honey, we've been married for god knows how long. I know you and all your tells. You're tracking the exits, you're all skittish, and I can feel your body shaking under my hand."
Damn him and his attentiveness.
You sigh, finally letting up. "Okay, fine. I don't know, I just feel trapped. It's too small in here, there's too much going on, people are looking at me funny—"
"—Nobody's looking at you funny, sweetheart."
Your brows furrow. "Yes they are, Brucey! Look at that security guard—he's totally mad at me."
His eyes flick up to the man in black standing at the door whose eyes are perusing the room, not lingering on anybody for too long. He's clearly just watching over things, but Bruce knows how your brain operates.
"Sweet girl," he coos, cupping your cheeks in his palms so as to keep your eyes locked on his. "I promise, he's got nothing against you. He's just doing his job. Besides, how could anyone be mad at his face, hm?"
He pats your cheek, coaxing a smile out of you. "Can we go?" you ask, your hands finding his arms and just resting there, assuring your mind that Bruce is here, in the flesh.
"I promised I'd buy you some jewelry."
"I don't need anything, baby. I just really wanna get out of here and get some air," you urge, pleading with your eyes for him to—for once—not feed his undying desire to spend money on you.
He nods, smoothing your hair down. "Very well. If that's what my wife wants, we can head out. How would you feel about getting dinner at that Italian place, my love?"
Your hands remain clasped around his elbow as he guides you out of the shop, offering a nod to the guard as he holds the door for you both. "Dinner sounds good."
He pats your hand, letting you keep holding him as he sits down on a street bench, guiding you to his side. He doesn't say anything, doesn't make a teasing comment about your clinging. He just lets you do what you need to do, his hand warm on your thigh. "So, reservation for 8:00?"
damian wayne:
You could probably count on one hand how many times Damian has willingly eaten fast food. Yet somehow, you managed to him to a Raising Canes for a sit-down meal of chicken, chicken, and more chicken. Damian only agreed when he found out that they had toast—that'll be all he's having for lunch today, he's accepted the fact.
However, you're unfortunately beginning to regret your own plan. It's absolutely packed, and of course you and Damian are tucked into a booth in the very back of the restaurant.
"Dami," you try to gain his attention over the noise of people conversing. He's too busy scowling at two teenagers eating chicken tenders to hear you.
You try again, nudging his shoulder. "Baby!"
Alas, he turns your way, frowning at the look of distress pooling in those beautiful eyes he loves so much. "Yes, beloved? What do you need? Are you okay?"
"My— my heart's beating really fast," you murmur, leaning close so he can hear you. "I feel so claustrophobic."
His frowns deepens, and he presses a hand to your chest. There, he can feel the rapid pounding of your heart. "Do you wish to leave?"
"Yes, I'm not done my chicken yet."
He rolls his eyes. "Forget the chicken, habibti. You are unwell. If you want to leave, we should leave," he replies. "I love you dearly, but you're so ridiculous sometimes."
His teasing makes you crack a smile despite the odd feeling of impending doom pooling in your gut. The despair in your gaze only breaks his heart more, so he stands up, taking your hand. "Let's go, beloved. Throw that out."
One of your hands holds your chicken basket, the other is held tight in Damian's as you walk to the trash can, tossing its contents in and leaving the basket on top.
Your free hand makes its way to the crook of Damian's elbow, literally holding on for dear life. Damian isn't afraid to bump shoulders with people who don't part for his lovely woman, so he consequently makes some people mad. But he doesn't care—when you need something, it's like Damian's brain zeroes in on it, eager to fulfill your needs and keep you content.
"Would you like to go home? I can have Alfred come pick us up."
You squeeze his arm, breathing in the fresh air and Damian's woodsy cologne. "You're not mad, are you?"
He shakes his head vehemently, knuckles tenderly stroking your cheek. "Never at you, hayati. I just want you to be okay and comfortable, always. I wasn't a fan of it in there, either. I'm not fond of the smell of cooking animals."
And just like that, his scowl is back. "You planning to go rescue a chicken now, Dames?"
He glances at you. "I just might. C'mon, let's go sit—I'll tell Alfred to come get us. As long as you're safe, beloved."
a/n: i hope this is okay :( i feel like it's flowkirk so bad lmfao but enjoy
𖤓 Absolutely loved lamb but sits facing away from the head of it because he feels bad if he makes eye contact with it
𖤓 Would start cussing out his cousins if they score a goal and the matches would always end with at least 40 goals each because they’d play all morning and night
𖤓 He was his grandfathers favorite and the only way they could get him out of bed in the mornings when he was younger was by telling him
“أبوي يبا يتريق وياك” abooya (grandfather) wants to eat breakfast with you
𖤓 After he became vegetarian they would set aside some rice without meat for him during Eid Al Adha
𖤓 Absolutely hates Dubai Mall and calls it a tourist place and prefers malls in Abu Dhabi
𖤓 Always was the first to get up and pour coffee for his elders in attempts to impress his grandfather
𖤓 Insanely jealous of his distant cousins that went to school and would always ask to pick them up
𖤓 He still owns one of those Saudi teddy bears your uncles get from Mecca
𖤓 Thinks its weird when people drop a female family members name in conversation with a stranger when he’s in America (for context its considered disrespectful and you're supposed to call them by their title for example if a man was talking about his mother he would say "الوالدة" or the mother and for wife he would say "حرمة البيت" which means the woman or the safety of the house)
𖤓 Genuinely shocked about the fact vimto went bankrupt in America and isn’t sold there (bonus: when his mother visits she brings him some)
𖤓 In Arab countries you’re given a title that is usually formatted as child of (fathers name) because his dad is white instead of calling him “ولد بروس” (son of bruce) they call him “ولد الغل” (son of alghul)
The comedic potential of Bruce being a college drop out and Damian having his med degree is endless. Can you imagine how many situations Damian can smugly go "one of us has the medical degree Baba, and it sure isn't you"
(edit: this has confused many people but when I say revert here I mean muslim convert. Muslims call anyone who joins the religion a revert)
.
the full first part of the ayah/verse is : [... whoever takes a life—unless as a punishment for murder or mischief in the land—it will be as if they killed all of humanity; and whoever saves a life, it will be as if they saved all of humanity...]- Surah Al-Ma’idah, 5:32
literally there’s so much joy to be found in being earnest. so much happiness in being sincere. anyone who tells you otherwise is just trying to get company for their misery.
summary: Jason had finally asked you out, he had planned everything, though one thing seems to get in between your date…
warnings: based off of this request, fluff, one shot, down bad!jason
The first time you agreed to go out with Jason on a date, he was beyond excited.
Jason planned everything meticulously. From the little restaurant he picked out, to the necklace he got you as a gift in his pocket. But the real star of the night would be his motorcycle. Yeah, maybe Dick’s words might’ve gotten to him, and maybe he was trying to impress you a little too hard with that bike.
All he could hear was Dick’s voice saying, “Chicks dig motorcycles, Jay.”
To which Jason cussed him out for saying, of course. But he’s honestly too desperate right now to not try and give it a shot.
You came out of your building just on time, all dolled up with your hair made and wearing your favourites dress.
He stopped dead in his tracks, admiring you in awe.
Oh god he really can’t fuck this up.
“Hey. You look- I mean you’re-” he breathed in. “You’re beautiful.”
You giggled and gave him a hug.
“Thanks Jay. And thanks for taking me out.”
“No problem.” He smiled at you. “Shall we get going?”
You nodded as he turned back, bending over to pick something up.
You let out a confused laugh when he handed you a red helmet.
“What’s this?”
He chuckled, “Don’t want anything happening to you, right?”
Jason gestures to the, what you now realised was a motorcycle, bike behind him. And your face dropped.
Not seeing your sudden disarray, he started rambling on about your guys plans, “And after the restaurant, we could maybe-”
“I can’t go on that.”
He immediately stopped talking.
“What?”
“I can’t go on that bike.”
He looked back at his motorcycle, and then at you- and back at his motorcycle.
“Oh… that’s fine. I mean- if you don’t wanna go on a date with me, I understand…I’m just gonna-”
“Woah.” You sounded taken aback, “When did I ever say that? I just meant I don’t like motorcycles, I don’t like getting on them.”
One of his hands came up to drag down his face as he let out the biggest exhale ever.
“I thought- you-”
You brought your hand up to your mouth, letting out a small chuckle.
God, he was a nervous wreck.
“Well,” he huffed, “I don’t really have a car…”
You both stood there a few seconds, lost in thought.
“Oh!” You jumped, “Isn’t Dick in town? Doesn’t he have a car?”
Oh no.
“I’ll call him!” You were already pulling your phone out, no use stopping you now.
The whole ride to the restaurant was horrible. Jason was dreading his existence every single second of that car ride.
“Did you know Jason had a stuffed animal he took everywhere as a kid?” Dick laughed as his hands gripped the steering wheel.
“No way! That’s so cute Jace!” You turned back to look at him, having sat in the passenger seat as Jason was shoved in the backseat.
He forced himself to let out a small smile at you before grumbling something under his breath. Probably a death threat for Dick.
“Yeah anyways how have you been?…”
The conversation blurred as you all arrived at your destination. Jason flew out of the car in an instant, opening the door for you before you could even think about doing it yourself.
“Bye Dick! Thanks for driving!” You yelled before Jason led you away from the car.
“Jason, did you buy… a car?” Bruce barged into the manor living room, computer in one hand and his other clicking away at a file.
Jason kept his gaze fixed on the book he was holding, turning a page. “Yeah, why?”
That caught the others attention, ears perking up as they suddenly went quiet and tried to (not so) subtly eavesdrop on their conversation.
“No reason, just… didn’t expect it from you.” He said firmly before walking back out the room.
Jason’s face twisted in confusion before he shrugged it off, going back to reading his book.
He suddenly felt the presence of Duke, Steph, and Tim on the couch, all containing the same smug smile on their faces.
Jason groaned, letting his book fall to his side. “What?”
“Nothing.” Steph said, “Just… your motorcycle wasn’t good enough for you?”
He rolled his eyes. “No.”
“Really Jason?” Duke cut in, trying to hold back a smile, “Don’t I remember you saying that you’d rather jump off a roof than give up your motorcycle?”
“Jumping off a roof would be the least dangerous thing I could’ve done at this point.”
“Oh really? It’s not that you got a car because of your girlfriend.” Tim finally cut in, his voice laced in taunt.
“Who. Told. You. That.” He snapped his head up at him.
“A little birdie told me your girlfriend doesn’t like motorcycles.” He snorted.
“She’s not my-” he groaned as he pushed Tim out of the way. “Whatever.”
“Where are you going?” Duke said.
“To kill Dick.”
Ty for reading! Reblogs and comments are very appreciated<3
a/n: kinda short sorry</3
Taglist: @starl1ghtgr4yson (if u wanna be added to the taglist, just ask ;)
