fics for the people

I write for batboys and jjba mostly, u can request or leave nice comment in ask! :) much love, - V

[odilestory]

echoes - bruno bucciarati/leone abbacchio

Abbacchio rarely felt peace. His mind constantly raced with anxiety and depression, compulsive ideas followed by actions he would later regret. Serenity was foreign to him. He knew nothing of it. It had never truly existed to him. The closest he ever got, he assumed, was when he was drinking. When the world itself sounded slurred and his mind gave way just enough so he could stop feeling sorry for himself, that door of acceptance would open just a crack, and he could squint and see a life where he forgave himself and moved on, a life where he didn’t live in the past. 

He opened his eyes hesitantly. He did not want to wake up. It was a nuisance. Sunlight shone through the window, bringing light to the mattress on the floor, brightening the gray sheets that Abbacchio lay tangled in. Last night’s mascara made his eyes feel caked and dry, and the sudden realization that he would have to wash it off (another chore) just made him dread getting up even more. He groaned as he sat up. He was sore. He walked a lot last night. More than he wanted to. Escorting those idiots all over the city, waiting for them to get tired and drunk and beg for Bucciarati’s comfortable guest room beds. He was given an instruction not to drink, and it was Bucciarati’s instruction, so he withheld until he was home by himself.

By himself. He replayed last nights events in his mind sluggishly. Unlocked the door, took off shoes, jacket on the floor, unzip pants, stumble to the kitchen, wine in the fridge, don’t bother with a glass, drink too much, throw up, drink a little more, think of him.

Thinking of him. That’s what he was doing. He was thinking of Bucciarati. Trying not to feel guilty that he could never live up to Bruno’s standards, he would never be enough for him. Even though he did exactly what he said last night, it wasn’t enough. It could never be. Not after all the shit Bruno has had to save Leone from, not after seeing him at his absolute worst, witnessing his rock-bottom first hand, nothing could ever lift Abbacchio up enough so that Bruno would view him as equal. 

That’s why he drank. Thats why he cried. He shivered.

The window was open, the drapery blowing in the breeze. 

“Shit,” he muttered, summoning Moody to bring him a glass of water. “What the fuck is wrong with me?” He wiped his eyes, hating the feeling of the day-old make up even more as his mind became more lucid. Moody Blues sauntered over with water in its had, Abbacchio took a sip and nearly choked, the taste and feel of morning mouth plus water was revolting to him, especially because he assumed he forgot to brush his teeth last night. He swallowed it anyway. He was not unused to bad tastes in his mouth. He groaned again, throwing his head in his hands after setting the water down beside the mattress. 

He heard a rustling, and felt the bed move. He looked to his left.

Who the fuck was in his bed?

He turned his head slowly, eyes falling upon a slightly tanned, muscular back. 

And black hair. 

He froze, caught off guard by the rise and fall of breathing. Strange, he didn’t remember bringing anyone home… but then again if he went out again after drinking, he wasn’t sure he would have remembered. The hair looked suspiciously like his superior’s, and he contemplated how embarrassing and pitiful it would be if he brought home someone who looked like Bruno. He rubbed his forehead, genuinely contemplating who the hell was in his bed, but the rise and fall was relaxing to him. Maybe it was the notion that someone could sleep so soundly next to him. Was his presence that comforting? He actually smiled at the thought, but only for a millisecond, his mind not letting that idea pass to his heart.

His thoughts were cut short as his house guest turned onto their back with a groan, open eyes staring at the ceiling. Wow, those were some blue eyes, Abbacchio could even tell from the side. The stranger sat up and sighed.

Abbacchio was staring. He refused to believe what his eyes were seeing. It didn’t make any sense. But his head turned, and Bucciarati met his gaze.

“You’re awake.” Bruno stated, morning still in his voice. Still looking him in the eyes, Abbacchio couldn’t help but notice the rise and fall of his chest out of the corner of his eye, tattoos moving with every breath. His hair was messy, not put together like he always was. 

“You’re in my bed.” Abbacchio stated.

Bruno looked around him, at the sheets covering his lower half, at the pillow behind him, and then back up at Abbacchio.

“Yes, it does look that way.” It was in that moment they noticed each other’s nakedness. Abbacchio suddenly felt conscious of his pale chest, toned to be sure, but not as chiseled as Bucciarati’s. Bucciarati was so calm, kindly looking at him, his expression was so… serene. 

Abbacchio stammered, “Uh, um, oh god, this must be some kind of violation of,” he finally broke the eye contact, pinching his nose and waving his hands in front of him, now incredibly aware of the caked makeup on his face. “Of, of, like, superiority rules or something.” He threw the sheets off of him and stood up, more waiting for a response from Bruno than anything.

“I’m sure it is, to be honest.” Bruno chuckled, watching Abbacchio rise from bed, waiting for the taller man to realize he was, in fact, completely naked. “Only if we tell anyone, that is.” 

The realization lived up to Bucciarati’s expectations. Abbacchio looked down at himself, realized that he could, in fact, see all of himself. His hands lifted to his shoulders and he looked around the room for something to cover himself. He hastily yanked the sheet from the bed, wrapping it around himself, and it wasn’t until he looked up again did he notice that Bucciarati, too, was completely naked.

“Oh my god,” Abbacchio turned around swiftly, mind racing.

“Is this a sign you want round three?” Bruno laughed as he stood and pulled on his underwear.

Abbacchio whipped around, sheets over his shoulders like a shawl. “Three?” 

 “Yes, three. I was surprised you wanted round two, what with all the crying beforehand.”

“So we, we,” Abbacchio shook his head in disbelief, “Three times?” He sounded exasperated. Bruno was highly amused. 

“So you don’t remember any of it?” Abbacchio shook his head, he backed up to the wall next to the window and slid down it, seated with his head hanging low. 

What bothered him wasn’t that they were probably both wasted and sloppy, but that he didn’t know what happened. He had been dreaming of this moment since he met Bucciarati, and now that it happened (twice, apparently) he had no memory of it. 

Bruno ran a hand through his hair and sauntered over to Leone, sitting down close beside him. Abbacchio stiffened at this presence, chewing the inside of his cheek. Bucciarati rested his elbows on his knees, and lay his head on his upper arms facing Abbacchio. He stared at him and realized he looked scared, almost ashamed. He stared at Abbacchio, who was completely unmoving, and began to speak.

“So you regret it?”

Abbacchio stammered, opening his mouth but no words were coming out. Finally, “No, not…not necessarily, but,” he dropped his head a bit, “I thought you would.”

Bruno understood suddenly. He threw his arms around Leone’s shoulders, craning his head to look him in the eyes. It was then that Abbacchio noticed the faint stain of purple smeared on Bruno’s lips. And his cheek. And down his neck. 

“Why would I do that?” Bruno’s lips turned up into a smile as he pressed a kiss to Abbacchio’s cheek. Abbacchio’s eyes widened and he relaxed, legs stretching out in front of him and head leaning back to the wall. He turned to look at Bucciarati, who was still around his shoulders. “Though next time I think it would be better if we were both completely sober, I don’t regret it.”

Their gazes were locked onto each other, Bruno smiling serenely, Abbacchio’s lips parted, still processing this morning’s events. His mind then switched: he genuinely could not remember the last time he had sex, and once again was forced into embarrassment. He broke Bruno’s gaze and groaned, letting his head fall to the side.

“What’s wrong, amore?” That nickname, oh god, Abbacchio was sure he was going to curl up and die right there.

“It was bad wasn’t it?”

“What? No, no! Not bad at all! I mean, you didn’t have to do much anyways,” Bruno chuckled but then realized maybe this wasn’t the right setting to make jokes in, “It was great, you were great.” 

“You don’t have to lie,” his head was still turned away as he felt Bruno basically climb on top of him to meet his eyes again, but Abbacchio wouldn’t look him in the eyes.

“I’m not lying.” He sounded stern. Bruno’s hand ran down Abbacchio’s shoulder, his arm, and then intertwined his finger’s with the other man’s more slender ones. “I didn’t think it would be possible, but you looked almost even better than you sounded.” Abbacchio’s face got hot and presumably red.

“What…what did I say?” He asked quietly, finally resting his forehead against Bruno’s and closing his eyes, though it wasn’t for long, as Bruno moved to kiss along his jaw.

“You didn’t say much, but I could tell you hadn’t done that in a while.” Abbacchio’s other hand subconsciously entangled itself in Bruno’s hair. “Oh, but you did say my name quite a lot. I think I like it when you call me capo in bed.”

Abbacchio did not respond. He didn’t know how to. He had only ever imagined moaning his capo’s name in bed; no part of him expected to have that dream become a reality, much less hear about it afterwards. He was completely flushed, and the more he thought about, the more embarrassed he got. And the worst (best?) part was that Bruno liked it, and the more he thought about that…

“Oh? Maybe you do want a round three?” Bruno now felt a little joke would lighten the mood, as he began to feel something prodding his abdomen. 

Once again grabbing the sheet around himself, Abbacchio hurried into his bathroom and slammed the door behind him. Curious, but not shocked about the reaction to his teasing, Bruno stood and knocked on the door.

“Are you alright?”

Meanwhile, Abbacchio was hunched over the counter, breathing heavily and cursing his erection. “What did I do?” He was asking himself, but Bruno heard, and decided to indulge him.

“Well, I blame myself for the most part. I was the one who barged in on you, and to be honest, I wasn’t completely sober either. I know you only get sad-drunk when you’ve had a lot to drink, but I let myself in because I wanted to make sure you were ok.” Bruno’s voice began to soften.

Abbacchio’s head perked up and he slowly walked up to the door, listening to his lover’s recollection of last night’s events. Bruno continued.

“You were crying. I had never seen you cry like that before. There were only tears, and they just kept coming. When I came in, they only fell harder. I thought in that moment I was the last person you wanted to see.”

Abbacchio shook his head and silently mouthed a ‘no.’ Bruno continued.

“I tried to comfort you, I got tissues and took the bottles from you, and I just sat with you, and the way you looked at me—“ He stopped for a moment, leaving Abbacchio in anticipation. “I mean, no one had ever looked at me like that before,” his voice got quieter, “and you kissed me, like you were desperate, and I loved it, and I kissed you back.”

Abbacchio turned back around, still slightly unable to believe what he heard. Bruno wanted to kiss him, and even though he wasn’t sober, he didn’t regret it the morning after. He grabbed wipes and turned the faucet on, removing the final remnants of makeup from his tear-stained face. It wasn’t until he looked in the mirror that he noticed the streaks the black liner and mascara had left, and sure enough, purple lipstick stained on his lips. Nevertheless, he wiped it clean, and was left staring at a bare face. He sighed and opened the door a crack, once again forgetting he was completely unclothed, but at this point did not seem to care.

Bruno looked up expectantly at him, surprised to see a bare-faced Leone in front of him. Suddenly hit with a stroke of confidence, Abbacchio hesitantly brought his hand to Bruno’s cheek, hand so large his fingers tangled into some of his hair, thumb scarcely moving across his cheekbone. Bruno smiled, turning his head slightly to kiss the inside of Leone’s palm. That was it, Leone couldn’t take it anymore, and he had to be sober when he lost control this time. His head dove to meet Bruno’s lips, recreating last night’s scene to the best of his ability. Though caught off guard slightly, Bruno smiled and kissed him right back, tilting his head to deepen it, and Abbacchio let out a small, deep moan in compliance.

Grabbing him by the shoulders, Bruno led him back to the bed, pushing him softly to give him the idea to lay back down. Smiling at how serious Abbacchio looked, and soaking in his appearance, Bruno ghosted his hands over his arms and chest as he straddled Abbacchio, leaning in close to his face but neglecting to kiss him again.

His hand moved lower. And lower. And he watched Abbacchio’s face as he finally wrapped his had around the man’s second erection of the morning. “Oh my god,” Bruno mused as he watched Leone’s head jerk back, studying the way he tried to withhold a moan from escaping his lips, “you are gorgeous.” He finished, shaking his head as he began stroking slowly, gripping a little tighter just to watch Abbacchio’s muscles contract as he gripped the sheets and forced himself not to buck into Bruno’s hand. 

Finally Abbacchio let out a shaky breath, and was able to look into Bucciarati’s eyes, if only for a moment, before throwing his head back again and accidentally letting a loud moan escape his lips as Bruno picked up his speed a bit.

“You don’t…fuck…you don’t have to do this,” Abbacchio said between breaths. Simply put, it wasn’t that Bruno was giving him the handjob of a lifetime, it was just that it was Bruno giving it to him.

“No I don’t,” Bruno crawled backward a bit, bringing his hand up and around the side of Abbacchio’s throat so that he was pushing his chin up with his chin up with his thumb and gripping the rest of it with the rest of his fingers, practically melting when he heard and felt Leone’s breath hitch at the action. “I want to, Abbacchio.” Dumbstruck by the tone in which his superior had uttered his name, Abbacchio was sure he was about to pass out. Before the man under him could realize it, Bruno’s head was above Abbacchio’s length, and now seeing it in daylight, it was bigger than he had remembered.

Now feeling a presence above and in-between his thighs, Abbacchio grabbed Bucciarati’s hand by the wrist, and sat up on his elbows, practically fainting at the sight before him: his capo between his legs, his cock in his hand, about to blow him. He was sure he had died and gone to heaven. 

“Fuck,” Abbacchio breathed, cursing to himself as he watched and felt Bucciarati drag his tongue from the base to the tip before taking him into his mouth. His eyebrows knitted together, biting his lip hard as he tried not to cum from the sight. “Oh my god, oh my god, fuck, oh my god,” gripping the sheets beside him and occasionally throwing his head back while trying not to ram up into Bruno’s throat, Abbacchio couldn’t help but curse at every motion he saw, every movement he felt.

Eyes cast upward at the sight of Abbacchio slowly coming undone, Bruno took him out of his mouth with a suctioned pop, but not before getting as much of his length down his throat as he could in one motion.

Abbacchio was breathing heavily, shakily, eyes clouded with lust but his mind held him back from saying what he wanted. Bruno swallowed and kept his hand moving. 

“This is ok, right?” Bruno’s breathing began to match his partner’s, he was getting worked up, especially knowing he had this affect on Abbacchio. 

Feverishly, Abbacchio nodded, he swallowed and choked out a yes. 

“Good,” Bruno smirked and took him back into his mouth, his head moving slowly up and down, picking up the pace and trying to get lower and lower each time as he watched Abbacchio’s face contort into uncontrollable pleasure, a loud moan escaping his lips. 

Abbacchio didn’t know what to do with his hands. He loved that Bruno was in control, but god did he want to grab a fistful of his hair and push him down, just to feel what it would be like to be completely in his mouth. 

Bruno noticed Abbacchio’s hand moving from gripping the sheets tightly, then hesitantly towards his head, and then back to the sheets again. He came up for air once more, continuing his long hard strokes in place of his mouth, licking his lips before he spoke.

“It’s ok to take control, Leone.” 

That was it. He completely lost his senses. Bruno saw the change in his expression, turning from one of blissful submission to hesitant dominance. Bruno loved knowing that he was only in control because he gave him permission, and figured he would explore this dynamic further if their relationship continued.

His eyebrows, previously tilted upwards in ecstasy, knitted together with lust, grabbing the top of Bruno’s head, knotting his fingers into his hair as Bruno once again took him into his mouth. The added sensation of Bruno moaning at Abbacchio’s forceful pushes just brought the latter closer to orgasm, letting out a rough groan as he watched Bruno take him in completely, and practically shouting a satisfied “fuck” as he watched Bruno’s eyes widen at the realization he was going to be held there for longer than he expected. Bruno’s eyes began to water and his hands gripped onto either of Abbacchio’s thighs, muffling an “mmph” right before Abbacchio released his grip enough to let him come up again.

Trying his best to keep composure, even though he was admittedly a bit shocked at Abbacchio’s dominance, Bruno took a breath before continuing again.

He was driving Abbacchio crazy, and he loved it. Abbacchio loved it too. The feeling of Bruno’s mouth around him, the feeling of him being almost too much for his capo to take, he didn’t need alcohol anymore: he was fine getting drunk on this feeling for the rest of his life. Once again, he forced Bruno’s throat to take all of him, though this time the younger man was more prepared, and actually quite proud of how well he took his lover. Abbacchio groaned at how pleased Bruno looked, a moan of pleasure taking over.

“You’re…shit…you’re gonna make me cum, Bucciarati,” Abbacchio shut his eyes tight letting Bruno continue bobbing his head up and down, though he picked up speed at the mention of Abbacchio coming close to finishing. His only response to the statement was a squeeze of his lover’s thighs, looking up lustful with eyes half-lidded, and letting a muffle “mmhmm” escape his throat.

“Fuck, I’m—“ he was cut off my his own orgasm, a climactic moan set free from his his lips. Before he realized it, he had once again forced himself down Bruno’s throat, bucking his hips up a couple times only served and inadvertently burying himself deeper than he had previously. 

He wasn’t even aware of the fact that Bruno swallowed the product of his orgasm until after he caught his breath and met his eyes. 

“Sorry I didn’t mean to—“

“Don’t worry about it,” Bruno crawled back up to his side, collapsing next to Abbacchio. “It’s the least I could do after you took mine.”

“I did?” The post-nut clarity was hitting Abbacchio, and suddenly but slowly, last night’s memories came flooding back to him. 

“You did.” Bruno threw an arm across Abbacchio’s midsection as he fell onto his back again.

“I remember some of it now,” Abbacchio started.

“Oh?” Bruno lifted his head with intrigue.

The flush returned to Abbacchio’s cheeks. “Yeah it was,” he rubbed his face with his hand, letting out a small sigh of relief as he recalled Bucciarati’s persistent praise. “It was good. Really good. You were really good.” He finished. Though not one to indulge in stand use unrelated to business, Abbacchio felt compelled to replay last night’s activities once Bruno had left, wanting to regain any of what he might have missed.

Bruno took his face in his hand, stroking his cheek lovingly with his thumb. 

“I’m glad you thought so, Caro.” 

[odilestory]

tell me that you want me - johnny joestar x reader

ao3 repost, word count: 1.3k

————

There you were, back again. Disheveled and feeling guilty for showing up at his doorstep again. Johnny knew how it was with you and Diego. The fights crescendoed at yelling and screaming threats at you, and the only way to stop them was to leave for the night. Or the week. Or however long it took Diego to cool down and get back to loving you normally. Johnny knew this wasn’t loving, though. He knew this was manipulative and toxic. But he also knew that you were too scared to leave; too anxious about what Diego might actually do if you up and left for good. And God, he didn’t even want to think about what would happen if Diego found out about the two of you. Johnny didn’t want you to feel guilty for trying to escape.

He opened the door and looked up at you, half-expecting you to come anyways, even though you never gave a warning before carrying out your escape plan. Johnny felt it: somehow, he knew that tonight would be one of those nights. One of the nights when you came to him in silence, already having exhausted sentences like, “I want to leave, I just can’t,” and, “I’m too scared of what he might do.” He didn’t expect you to explain yourself. IN fact, he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to know if tonight had been worse than previous. He just wanted to know that you were safe now. And opening the front door and finding you meant that you were safe now.

“Hey.” You cracked a smile. But you knew it wouldn’t resolve that look on his face. That look of disappointment. Not in you for running, but in Diego for treating you like this. If you ever got away for good, Johnny knew he would never treat you like he does.

“Hi.” He mumbled and moved aside for you to come in.

You headed straight for the couch and collapsed, leaving room for Johnny to sit next to you. You threw your head back and closed your eyes, breathing a sigh of freedom.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” You heard the door close. Most of the lights in the house were off, just the floor lamp in the living room and light from the kitchen down the hall. Gyro must be at work, you thought.

“I’ll have what you’re having.” You lifted your head up to meet his eyes. He smiled and mumbled an “Alright” and headed down the hall. You wanted to ask to help, but you knew he didn’t much appreciate it, especially when he was trying to do something nice for you. It made him feel like he wasn’t capable.

Hearing the kettle set on the stove and the click of the burner you decided to follow him. You knew he would stay in there until the tea was done, and you didn’t much feel like being alone. You stood up and padded down the hallway, leaning against the doorway into the kitchen.

He noticed you and looked up. You didn’t like that look of pity he had, but you knew it was warranted. Johnny opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“He said he would leave me.”

Johnny looked surprised, looking down for a moment and then back up at you, not really sure if this was good or bad.

“Well that would solve it, wouldn’t it? Did he say for sure? He’s definitely leaving?”

You shook your head, mouthing a “no.”

“Well…why don’t you ask him, you know, if he’s gonna stay?”

“Because,” you scoffed, already having thought about this on the way over. “He’ll take it like I’m asking him if he’s going away, and to him, that means I want him.”

“And you don’t right?” He turned to face you directly as you took a seat on one of the chairs off of the kitchen. “Please, tell me you don’t.”

“Of course I don’t. You know how it is.” You started to cry. Johnny felt a little guilty for pleading. “But you know how he is. He heard us on the phone and flipped. Imagine if he knew I was here. Imagine if he knew that we were together.”

You didn’t hear the door open or shut as he came home. Your back was to the door. You were on the phone with Johnny, laughing and talking about your day. Diego didn’t like your tone. He didn’t like how happy you sounded. Why didn’t you sound like that when you talked to him? It didn’t help when he realized that he recognized the laugh and banter of the person on the other end. You? Talking to Johnny Joestar? He dropped his things onto the floor to startle you. You jumped and turned.

“Oh, I didn’t hear you-“

“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” He walked over to you. You hid the screen of the phone and looked up at him. He heard Johnny on the other end, confused as to why you cut yourself off.

“Why don’t you tell me who’s on the phone?” When you just stared back, he snatched the phone from your hand. He glanced at the caller screen and abruptly hung up, tossing your phone to the side.

“Would leaving him mean that he had to know? He doesn’t have to know we’re together; you can leave. You don’t have to explain anything. You don’t owe him a damn thing.” His voice was stern.

Johnny was getting frustrated. It had been months since you two talked about what you were. Weeks and weeks since you explained why you couldn’t bring yourself to leave Diego despite how much he knew you despised him. Johnny knew you loved him. He knew the love for Diego was close to nonexistent now. He could barely comprehend why you hadn’t left him.

You met his eyes and his brows were furrowed. You noticed he wasn’t wearing his lipstick. Maybe he hadn’t worn it all day. Maybe he had just taken it off. You would know, you thought, if you lived here instead of with Diego. You were about to respond, but the kettle cut you off. The few tears that you shed quickly dried on your cheeks and you sniffed.

Johnny poured the tea and you followed him to the living room. He placed the mugs on the coffee table and got himself onto the couch, letting you retake your previous position. He sighed and looked at you again, and this time you met his gaze right away, blue eyes immediately calming you down.

“Stay here.” His hand moved to your hair, running his hand through it before bringing it down to hold your face. You turned your head to kiss his hand, but didn’t meet his eyes again, instead placing your hand on his. “Please. Stay here.”

“You know how badly I want to. You know how much I-“

“Don’t say that you love me.” He placed his forehead on yours. If he hadn’t, you weren’t sure you’d be able to hear him. “Don’t say that when I can’t see you every second of the day. Please, I can’t hear you say it when I know he still gets to hear the same, even if I know it’s all lies. Just tell me that you want me. Just tell me that you don’t want him. Promise me you’ll leave him.”

His eyes are cast down now and his breathing is just barely shaking. Your breath hitches as you wrap your arms around his neck and fall on top of him. He breathes in your hair and wraps his arms around you, and you adjust yourself so you’re in-between his legs and your head rests in the crook of his neck.

“When he’s at work tomorrow,” you start, “I’ll get as many of my things as I can.” He squeezes you tighter and you can practically feel the weight lift off of his chest. You lift your head and meet his eyes. God, he looks so relieved. And so beautiful in the dim light. “I want you. I want you so bad. I don’t want anybody else.”

[odilestory]

lipstick criminal moonlight - bruno bucciarati x reader

hello! this is an ao3 repost, my username on there is vityavishneva if ao3 is your preferred format, but I am going to repost all my pics from there on here.

word count: 2.5k

without further ado…..

—————————————

It hadn’t been a particularly boring day at work, but you were nonetheless eager to go home. Lately you had been hitting a low point, and while there were moments that had you hurting with laughter, if you weren’t occupied with other thoughts, you were unable to ignore a looming sense of emptiness.

Unbeknownst to Bruno, that is. Though incredibly perceptive to your mood, the mafioso had been particularly busy these days, spending increasingly more time coordinating with his team than at home with you. And you understood. You knew the nature of his work, and you accepted that there would be times when he would barely be able to get away, you just thought it horribly unfortunate that his absence and your depression chose to coincide. 

In a way, you were glad he didn’t see you like this; you would hate for him to think your sadness was caused by his absence when in reality it was just something else entirely.

It always seemed to hit you hardest in the moments before he walked in the door. Late at night or early in the morning, the moonlight pooled in your tangled sheets, flooding in through the window. You would stare at the stars and get lost imagining what it would feel like if he didn’t come home. And you didn’t know why you would even think to imagine these things. The one thing that would make you hurt the most, yet you pondered it constantly. You fingers would brush your cheek and you would imagine they were his fingers, closing your eyes and trying to relax yourself, as if preparing for the day that this nightmare became reality. 

You hoped tonight wouldn’t be one of those nights as you snapped back to reality at the cash register. It was close to closing, so the store was nearly empty, save for you and your manager. You snapped out of your longing as you heard footsteps on the tile at the store front, preparing yourself to raise your voice an octave or two and greet a customer.

However, he beat you to it.

“Surprise, cara!” As if answering your prayers, he walks in the door. Dressed in a black suit with gold zipper detail that you recognized as one you helped him pick out. He looked gorgeous as ever, hair slightly disarrayed from the walk, but still perfectly framing his tanned face.

“Hey, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with everyone else?” You tried to tone down your excitement, not being one to make public scenes. It was difficult though, seeing him anywhere (let alone a surprise visit) made your heart race.

“I tried to wrap things up a bit early. I’m hoping to take tomorrow off.” He leaned his elbows on the other side of the counter, his smile bright and sincere. That’s another thing you loved about him: you could really tell that whenever he looked at you he was absolutely enamored. His love for you was overflowing, and you could tell in everything he did. Whether it was the way he messed with your hair or placed his hand on the small of your back when you were walking with him, everything he did had this genuine gentleness and care to it. 

“Oh, any special plans?” You matched his incline and tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. 

“Waking up with you is the most special of them all,” he said softly. “But if you want to do something else as well, I’m sure we’ll have time.” With that declaration, he turned on his heel and wandered around the store, greeting your manager and making a bit of small talk before returning back to you. “What time will you be home? Should I make dinner?”

“We close in a few minutes, I should be out of here by 7:30. I was thinking of cooking but if you insist I won’t complain. We could always order.” You felt his gaze follow you as you paced back and forth behind the counter, moving hangers from here to there and switching around piles of clothes, writing sticky notes for whoever came in to open the store the next day telling them what needed to get done.

“Then, I’ll head home now and have something ready when you get home, yeah? How does that sound?” 

You stood up to meet his eyes once again, as bright and blue as ever. The corners started to crease as he smiled upon seeing your face.

“That sounds perfect.” Bruno was a great cook. No need to worry there.

He reached over the counter to pinch your chin before walking away. “Ci vediamo presto, amore mio.” 

Your eyes were glued to him as he walked away, watching his hair sway with the turn of his head as he glanced at some of the pieces you sold on his way out. 

Shortly after Bruno’s visit, you and your manager closed the store and quickly ran through after hours duties. Your shared apartment was no more than a 10 minute walk from your work, and luckily it wasn’t as cold and rainy as it had been the previous nights. You clocked out and patiently waited for your manager to finish up in the office so she could let you out the side door. Slipping on your jacket and grabbing your bag, you quickly checked your phone before putting it back in your bag, noting the sweet text— something along the lines of “I can’t wait to see you”— from Bruno at the top of your lock screen.

Walking up the stairs to your doorstep, the relief and excitement you felt from knowing that Bruno would be home not only relatively early tonight, but all day tomorrow as well, was immeasurable. You couldn’t think of a single thing you wanted to do with him though, other than actually doing him, but you knew even if you did absolutely nothing it would be the most joyous day in your life as of late. Honestly, even if it was a day out with the rest of the gang you would be overjoyed. Really, any confirmation that Bruno was safe and with you was more than enough. Having him near you was a breath of fresh air, and having him in your arms and you in his would be indescribable. 

You unlocked the door with a sigh and brushed your hair out of your face, greeted with what could only be described as the heavenly smell of dinner. You heard the faucet shut off and Bruno rushed around the corner, his hair half up and an apron on, to greet you and take your bag. 

“Welcome home,” he smiled and pulled you closer with his free hand, leaning down momentarily to give you a short but sweet kiss. His hand lingered at your back for a moment before he turned and set your bag down on the couch and then promptly returning to the kitchen to finish whatever meal he was working on. “It’s almost ready!” He shouted as you slid your shoes off.

“It smells great,” you turned the corner to head into the kitchen, making a b-line for the wine fridge hidden in the island, ready to abuse Bruno’s collection of fine wines in celebration of his homecoming. But as he noticed the direction you we heading, he mumbled a “Way ahead of you” and poured you a glass of a very nice red that he had already taken out. You looked up at him, letting your gaze linger as you watched him stir and check and taste whatever was on the stove (some sort of pasta dish, you had surmised), watching his hair sway and his lips move and he talked to himself under his breath, watching how his hand came up to scratch his chin or the back of his neck as he stood for a moment or two making sure he knew what he was doing. The his eyes met yours again, and with a smile he encouraged you to go get changed into something more comfortable, motioning to the pajama pants and old t-shirt that he was wearing under his apron. You nodded as you took a sip of the wine. “I’ll be right back.” And you turned for the bedroom.

Sluggishly undressing because of your lingering dark cloud, you eventually found a pair of silky black pajama pants and lacy black camisole that you felt comfortable going from dinner-date to bed in, and threw on an oversized grey cardigan to combat the slight chill you felt in the apartment. You tied your hair back and headed back for the kitchen. You passed the dining room on your way, and noticed Bruno lighting some candles before setting out plates.

“Getting romantic, are we?” You smiled at the way his head quickly turned to you, and it was obvious you may have just sabotaged a little surprise. 

“I have nights upon nights of romance to make up for, after all.” He shrugged his shoulders and laughed a bit as if it was obvious. You smiled back and then dove into him, wrapping your arms around his waist and breathing him in for a moment. He froze for a moment, not expecting your sudden move, but then you felt him reciprocate and embrace you, kissing the top of your head.

“I’ve really missed you, not being able to see you all the time has been harder than I think I thought it was going to be.” You said into his chest, breathing out a long sigh of relief as you turned your head and felt his heart racing.

“I’m glad to be home, even if just for tonight and tomorrow. I’ve missed you so much.” He squeezed you tighter, rubbing circles on your back with one hand. You two stood there for a moment, it being abundantly clear how much the both of you missed each other, trying to enjoy this moment as long as possible. Then a timer went off in the kitchen, and Bruno pulled away with a smile, kissing your forehead before regretfully turning away and back into the kitchen. You opted to take a seat at the small dinner table after grabbing your glass of wine off of the counter.

Bruno could barely take his eyes off of you while he served your plates, and he couldn’t help but feel something was wrong behind your eyes every time you broke his gaze to look down at the table or take another sip form your glass.

…

Dinner was amazing as expected, and it felt so nice to catch up with Bruno about how he and the team were doing. He never liked to give you too many specifics, not because he didn’t trust you but because he had a lingering fear that saying too much would mean getting you involved. Nonetheless, you had a good laugh at Narancia and Mista’s antics and made a mental note to try to meet up with everyone as soon as possible. They felt like family, and you wanted to check up on them yourself even if Bruno gave you the rundown. You, in return, caught him up with your life and your friends, telling him about all of the crazy customers you had the pleasure of interacting with while he was away.

You both cleaned up the kitchen together. Bruno was about to insist you go sit down, but he got the feeling that you would rather be with him right now than sit alone on the couch or in the bedroom, so he passed the dishes to you to dry them and put them away after he scrubbed them clean. Once you had closed the last cupboard, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed his chest against your back. Your  hands traced over his arms and you leaned your head back in an attempt to look at him, but he dipped to the side and kissed your neck instead.

“God, I’ve really missed you.” He breathed and squeezed you tighter, and it was his turn to breath a sigh of relief, savoring the feeling of having you in his arms. You reached up to touch his face, caressing your thumb along the side of his face. He let go of you for a moment, before mumbling “Let’s get ready for bed” and leading you to the en suite in your bedroom. 

He took his hair down and ruffled it a bit to check for knots before putting a headband on to push his bangs back and wash his face. You did the same, practically drying your faces in unison before reaching for your toothbrush and mouth wash. Once you finished, you turned and fell onto the bed, listening for Bruno to shut the light off. 

He stretched his arms up as he sauntered over to you, smiling before falling beside you. It was clear out, and the moonlight once again flooded onto the sheets like it had the many days when Bruno didn’t occupy the bed, only this time it wasn’t just you who was tangled in the sheets it illuminated. 

You two were intertwined with each other in the blink of an eye, limbs getting tangled together and kisses planted between every breath. He stroked your hair and brushed a few strands behind your ear before speaking.

“Earlier, when you said it had been harder on you than you thought, I just…I want to make sure that you’re ok.”

“I’m better now that you’re here and I know you’re safe.” Though an affirmation of you being fine, it had also implied that you weren’t fine previously, and this concerned him. You could tell, and so you continued. “When you were gone, I couldn’t help but lay here by myself and think about what would happen if you never came home. I just don’t know what I would do…I don’t know what I would do without you.” You couldn’t meet his eyes.

“I’ll always come home. I’ll go wherever you go, I hope you know that.”

“And don’t get me wrong I’m not doubting your abilities, but I just fear that one day— without warning— I’m never going to see you again. And I’ve just felt down lately on top of that. I just didn’t want you to have another thing to worry about, and I didn’t want you to think I was upset at you for not being home.” He held you tighter in response.

“Please tell me when you feel like this. I want to know you’re ok, even if It’s something small, I want to do anything to be there for you.” 

The relief of knowing that he cared for you just as much as you cared for him was indescribable, all you could muster was a nod against his chest and an “mhm” before embracing him tightly and curling up under the sheets.

Still, the moonlight was pooling and glowing against your skin, but this time there was someone next to you to bask in it with.

[odilestory]

its been a while!

hi everyone! I’ve been gone, but I hope to get back to writing more soon! I’d also like to expand this blog to more than just DC/Batboys and start writing for JJBA and Jujutsu Kaisen as well! If anyone has any requests or headcannons that I can get started on to jumpstart, please let me know!

lots of love, 

-v

[odilestory]

outlines of a day after school ch. 2 (tim drake x reader)

Your phone buzzed. 

“Shit, I have to go.” You swung your legs onto the floor and stood up, blushing a bit. You felt like there was something there; like a spark. You felt a connection deeper than the friendship and harmless flirting that came before it. 

You didn’t disregard the feeling, but you put on the back burner. Now wasn’t a good time for feelings. You had the four walls of your room to overthink in.

He closed his book and left it on the couch, beginning to follow you out.

“Do you need a ride home?” Legally, Tim wasn’t allowed to drive other minors, as he had just got his license. However, any attempts at scolding him for driving you would only result in the bringing up of instances where he had to drive the batmobile (and had done so safely and successfully). 

“Yeah, actually, that’d be great.” You smiled at him and turned back around, heading to his room to grab your things. “You finished your homework, right?”

“Um, yeah.” 

“I guess that means you can help with dinner then,” you slung your bag over your shoulder.

“Oh, yeah. Right.” He laughed awkwardly, waiting to roll his eyes until your back was to you. Shit. His initial cancellation was due to an underlying hope you might stay longer than usual. 

The two of you walked in silence to the obnoxiously large garage where every possible variation of fancey car was kept. The silence echoed in the similarly obnoxiously large hallways. 

“I hope you don’t mind my saying so, but this house seems too big for your family,” You noted as you let your eyes run up and down the walls. “Especially since--and correct me if I’m wrong-- two of your brothers are far old enough to move out.”

Tim sighed. “You’re not wrong, they are. But we see eachother almost too frequently,” he laughed under his breath. “plus, we have a lot of Wayne Enterprise gatherings here, so there’s always people coming and going.”

“Then why is it always so empty when I’m here?” You followed him as he turned a corner and headed down some stairs. He had to stop himself from going in the direction of the batcave, as the ritual of heading down there to work on his extracurricular activities had reprogrammed his mind.

“Most of them are like vampires; they seem to only do anything out in the open at night.”

“Or like bats,” you interjected.

Tim coughed. “Uh yeah, or like bats.”

The door opened on a garage. It was a cold, harshly lit concrete cave full of beautiful cars. From rare old ones to the newest, even unreleased models lined its walls. 

“Pick your poision.” Tim looked at you in adoration as you gazed at the automobiles. He almost didn’t hear you when you pointed out, rushed over to, and hopped in the passenger’s seat of a 1968 Chevrolet Camaro. Luckily, he snapped out of it in time to meet you in the driver’s seat.

“Bitchin’ Camaro,” you smiled and looked at Tim, who was focused on getting the car out of the garage. Nonetheless, he heard you and laughed at your off-hand reference. 

You turned on the radio as he drove you home.

“You’re so focused.” Your eyes were cast down.

“Well yeah, I have to be. I don’t want to crash. Especially not with you in the car.” He laughed as the last sentence escaped his mouth, surprised that he said it out loud.

“Hah, not driving. Well, that too, but I meant in general. It’s really admirable, don’t get me wrong, but I think you should be able to let go once in a while. Maybe you do and I just don’t know about it, but if you don’t then you should.”

“If your telling me to spa day I’ll pass,”

“Actually I was going to ask if you wanted to come to a party with me. Er, not a party, really. There’s gonna be a few bands playing. If it’s not your thing don’t worry about it, I just thought I’d ask ‘cause I think it would be cool if you came with.” You didn’t mean to talk for so long, you didn’t want to sound liek you were gushing or anything. Actually, you didn’t even plan on asking him. When you turned on the radio it remined you about a show you were going to that weekend, and suddenly wanted to bring Tim.

And you caught Tim off guard. He almost ran a stop sign. 

“Oh, uh, yeah, I’d totally want to go, um,” You were looking at him, smiling at his response, and he glanced back and forth from you to the road. “I’ll ask if I have to help with anything that night. What night is it?”

“Saturday.”

“Saturday...alright.” He pulled up to your house. “I’ll call you later after I ask, if that’s ok.”

You got out of the car.

“You can call me anytime. See you tomorrow,” You shut the door and walked up your driveway.

Tim stared after you.

She asked me on a date. I think. Oh shit. I have to call Dick.

[odilestory]

outlines of a day after school ch. 1 (tim drake x reader)

So far, junior year wasn’t extremely difficult. It's only the third week in, but you aren’t too worried about it. Your classes are good, you have no bad teachers, and you have a solid group of friends. 

Great!

You and Tim became good friends last year. because you shared the same math and English classes. You didn’t always end up sitting next to each other, but you two always found a way to talk or do projects together.

He especially appreciated your help in analyzing texts in English.

And his help with anything math-related was greatly appreciated by you.

It became a habit to go to his giant house after school for a few hours to study or hang out and talk.

Sometimes his brothers would pick you up, other times Alfred would. Damian always came with you two, him being at the same school and all. You used to sit in the back seat with Damian while Tim sat in front of you, but ever since the new year started, Damian has decided to take over the passenger seat and let you and Tim converse in the back. Good choice, Dami.

Today wasn’t much different.

“How long can you stay today?” Tim leaned up against the school gate holding both his backpack straps.

“Probably until like 5, if that’s ok.” You said as you turned to look for Damian.

“For sure! Any homework?” 

“Not really... I don’t feel like I need to study for math, I guess I’ll just read for a while.” You shrugged.

“Sounds nice. I have some math and programming to get done, but after that, I can go to the library with you if you want.”

“You want to drive all the way back to the library?”

“What? Oh, no!” He laughed, “No, we have one. It’s not huge, but Bruce has a shit-ton of books in there. I’m sure there are at least five copies of whatever it is you’re reading.”

“My god, you have everything, don’t you?” You rolled your eyes and smiled, seeing Damian walk towards you guys. “And yeah, that sounds good. How long will the other stuff take?”

“Less than an hour, definitely.” He sighed, estimating in his head.

“Get me out of this hell-hole.” Damian walked right past you two and straight towards the pick-up lane. 

You and Tim looked at each other and followed him.

“Drake, where’s the car?” Damian stopped at the curb, impatiently looking around.

“Dunno, who’s picking us up?” 

“I never got a text or-” A horn cut Damian off. Parked across the street in a mini-van (a nice one) was Jason.

“No, no, god no. Please no, not today!” Tim stared straight ahead as Damian groaned and threw his head back.

“Will you guys hurry the hell up? I’m not getting any younger!” Jason leaned out the driver’s side window and threw his hand up.

Silently, you followed them to the car, laughing under your breath. To be honest, you were a bit excited to finally meet the infamous Jason. You had heard short stories about him when Tim and Damian would complain to each other.

Tim opened the door for you and you slid to the far side of the back seat, he sat down after you and closed the door.

“Who’s the lady?” Jason turned and smiled at you.

“I’m (Y/N), Tim’s friend.” You smiled back.

“How long will you be staying, (Y/N)?” Jason turned back around and started the car.

“Probably until 5 or so, I think.” Tim nodded at your response.

“Ok, ok. So, what are you kids gonna do?” Jason looked at yours and Tim’s reflection in the rearview mirror, but you were too distracted by Tim showing you a picture to answer, and he was too distracted to hear.

So Damian answered for you two!

“They said they’re going to read in the library. So maybe they’ll actually have sex this time instead of beating around the bush.” He said nonchalantly.

Tim heard but didn’t react because you didn't hear Damian’s comment and instead just laughed at whatever Tim was showing you.

“Haha, nice one, Damian! I didn’t know you could joke.”

“And I didn’t know you could drive a car without speeding or crashing but it looks like we learn new things every day.”

---

After getting home, you went to Tim’s room and sat on his bed while he typed away at his desktop. You were reading and listening to his fingers hitting the keys, looking around the room. You were trying to see what kind of a person he was. Actually, you rarely went to his room. Usually, you two would sit in the living room, but for some reason, he didn’t want to today. 

His room wasn’t the cleanest, but it wasn’t terrible. He had dirty mugs on the window sills and tables, and a few on the floor too. 

“Do you like coffee?” Your comment surprised him and he jolted a bit but didn’t turn around.

“Um, yes. Why do you ask?”

“Just ‘cause you have coffee mugs everywhere,” you laughed a little. “so that's why you always have so much energy.”

Tim laughed too. “That’s what you think. I’m tired whenever I’m not around you.” He didn’t realize what he’d said and just went on coding. He didn’t think he’d said it out loud.

“I tire you out, is that what you mean?” You sat up and hid a smile.

“What?”

“What you just said: you said you’re tired if you’re not with me. So do I tire you out?”

“I said that?”

“Yes!”

“Oh...uh...I mean, yeah, but not ‘cause you tire me out. I just always have energy when I’m... around you... I guess...” He just turned his head to the side, still not swiveling all the way around.

You moved to sit on the edge of the bed. “I think I feel like that too.”

Tim choked on his spit and coughed. There was a knock on the door.

“Come in!” Damian peeked his head in, scanning the scene.

“...Father wants to talk to you about dinner tonight and whether or not you will be helping.” 

“I..” he looked at you and then back at Damian. “Tell him I have homework and reports to finish and that I can make up for it tomorrow and Friday night.”

Damian sighed and closed the door. 

“You help make dinner?” 

“No, it's not... well... yes. Sometimes.” He winced at himself spreading the lie.

You laughed to yourself.

---

“I think I’m done here if you wanna go to the library. We still have like an hour or so.”

“Ok!” You hopped off of the bed, stopping before you got to the door. “Can I borrow a jacket?” 

“Yeah, sure. I’m gonna grab one too actually, it gets cold in there.” He got you a clean sweatshirt form his closet and picked up one for himself off the floor.

He led you through the halls and up two flights of stairs until you got to two double doors. One was propped open. Tim poked his head in and opened the door the rest of the way, motioning for you to come in. 

“Hey, Bruce.” Tim’s adopted father was standing on a ladder with two other books in his arms, trying to find a third.

“Hey, kid. Who’s this?”

“Hi, Mr. Wayne! I’m (Y/N), I go to school with Tim.”

“I’ve heard lots about you, (Y/N). Tim certainly won’t stop talking about you. I’ll be out of the way in a minute, I just need to grab one more thing.” He shuffled around a bit more before finally climbing down the ladder. “You kids have fun!” He said as he closed the door.

“Stooooooooop!” Tim yelled as he left the room. “Sorry, he thinks he’s cool.” “It’s funny! Don’t be sorry, it’s nice that he’s here. I think that’s the first time I’ve met him.”

“He’s here when he can be, but he’s busy.” Tim moved a blanket and sat down on a sofa near the window.

You sat down next to him, throwing your legs across his lap and laying down. He smiled at you and opened his book, one of your recommendations that he ended up using for his English class. It was a short book by Kurt Vonnegut, Mother Night. It was a story about an American spy in Nazi Germany during WWII, Howard J. Campbell. His issue was that there was absolutely no evidence to prove he was a spy during his trial for his crimes against humanity. Tim found it fascinating.

He paused to discuss his thoughts with you every few minutes, as you had read it twice already and was the one who recommended to him in the first place. You decided to read it for the third time along with him.

“His moral dilemma is interesting...” Tim mumbled.

“Mmhm.” You continued reading.

“He doesn’t have a home. He doesn’t know who he is.”

“He doesn’t have anything to live for,” you confirmed. “It’s sad.”

He took his eyes away from the page and looked out into nothingness, getting lost in his own thoughts.

“Do you ever feel like that?”

“Like what? Sad, you mean?” You put the book on your stomach and looked up at him with furrowed brows.

“Not exactly. Like you don’t belong anywhere. See, because there is no evidence to prove he belongs anywhere, now he feels he doesn’t belong anywhere. He lets other people tell him where he’s supposed to be, and in doing so, he got all lost in the middle of it. He let it affect his own view of himself. Lost with no way to get out.”

“Oh, he gets out of it. Just not in the way an optimistic person may have hoped,” you mumbled and dodged the difficult points of his question.

“But do you know what I mean?” He looked at you.

“Yeah. I think so.” You looked at him with understanding.

You couldn’t help but wonder what two places he was stuck between.

[odilestory]

untitled pt.2 (jay x reader)

It was a dream, it had to be. He was...there. Right in front of you. He stood as tall as Bruce, no longer were you only an inch shorter than him. He still had the jet black hair you admired, and he was still capable of executing the expression that meant, “I don’t regret what I just said, but I’m very nervous to hear and see your response.”

He was undressing scanning you with his eyes just as hard as you were doing to him. 

Dick and Barabara stood on the sidelines as everyone else in the club kept dancing, they almost acted as a barrier.

“I know it’s crazy and really weird, and I don’t expect you to understand right away, but please, give me time - give us time,” He reached for your hands, delicately holding your fingertips as if he had forgotten how after all the years, “(Y/N), please,”

“(Y/N)!”

(Y/N)! Come back!”

You sped out of there as fast as you could, running back to your apartment. You didn’t cry even though you half expected to. In reality, you were just angry. Angry that you were set up, and angry that Dick probably knew about him being alive and he didn’t tell you! How could he? He more than anyone knew how much Jason meant to you.

You opened the door, it slammed against the wall before bouncing back and shutting on its own. You threw your clutch on the couch, kicked off your heels, ripped out your earrings, and undressed down to your underwear,  throwing on a short, thin, black, silk nightdress, that you had, ironically, bought with Jason in mind.

And finally, tears fell. You screamed and cried and threw pillows at the couch and wall, trying to get the anger out. Eventually, you let up, collapsing on your bed in tears. Mascara running, messy hair, red eyes. You focused on your breathing, trying to calm yourself down, and just as you thought you had relaxed, the doorbell rang.

You sat up, sniffling, and contemplated answering the door. 

You told yourself not to but got up anyway.

You walked with anger, pretty much ready to deck whoever was behind the door.

You opened the door to the frantic knocking, only to find the last person you wanted to see.

But instead of kicking his ass like you knew you could, you let him in.

He was hesitant and didn’t immediately say anything. It was just after two in the morning, and neither of you had enough energy to fight each other, verbally or physically.

“Take your shoes off, I don’t wanna clean the floors.”

 He stopped pacing and looked at you differently as if he was in a stranger’s house, but he immediately complied and threw his shoes next to the door.

“...um, this is your...place?”

“Yes.”

“You...pay for this? How much does this cost? How do you make the money?”

“He pays for it. It’s his way of apologizing to me. Coffee?”

He looks at the clock on your wall and looks at you making coffee like you're insane, but of course, your back was turned so you didn’t notice.

He smiled, thinking back to when you two would sneak coffee as kids, viewing it as a “grown-up” drink.

“You should come back.”

“So no coffee?”

“We could use you. Everyone loves you, you’re an icon.”

“I don’t want to talk about this right now.” You shook your head.

He stood up with a start, storming over to you. You turned around to stop him, but he wrapped himself around you before you could say anything.

“You finally grew up. I missed it. I missed you.” 

You straightened up, hesitating to return the favor, but he held you tighter, and it was like you suddenly realized it was him, really him.

“Your legs are still short though.”

You hit him before embracing him in return, realizing that he was back. Truly back.

“Jason. Jason.”

You gripped and padded him down just to make sure he was real, he just squeezed you tighter.

...

Within an hour you were on the terrace with him. You two were laying on the hammock you hung out there, you face up lying on his stomach while his arms were wrapped around your waist.

He explained everything as you gazed at the fleeting stars.

You had music playing from the radio inside. It was perfect, really. You couldn’t ask for more right now, because everything you ever wanted was back with you.

His fingers traced patterns on your arm.

“I only ever kissed you once, you know.”

You turned your head to the best of your abilities and looked up at him, confused.

“What?”

“I mean, for being in love with someone, one kiss isn’t nearly enough.”

“You’re telling me that you’ve never kissed anyone else, ever?”

“You were my first and you’re gonna be my last. No one else matters.”

“That conversation isn’t over, Jay.” You reached up and hit his face in between your hands, before standing up and walking inside. It was almost four now, and you wanted to sleep. 

“Where are you going?” 

“Bed,” you stated plainly as you turned the corner to your room.

“Well, can I join?” He stood in the doorway, hands on the door frames as if he was ready to launch himself forward.

You said nothing, smiled, and shook your head. You turned off the lights and got under the sheets, moving to one side of the bed and leaving the other for him.

---meanwhile---

“Damian, what the hell are you doing? It’s three in the morning.” 

Tim rubbed his eyes, as he cautiously approached the boy. He was dressed to the nines in his pajamas: sweatpants, slippers, a t-shirt that was too big, and messy hair to complete the look. He was trying to sleep, but he had the itch to get some work done, and he would have fulfilled his need if Damian hadn’t occupied the bat-computer.

“Good morning, Drake. I decided to take the liberty of organizing some of my father’s files.” He stated plainly, not bothering to turn and look at Tim.

“Some of that stuff is really classified. Not even you are allowed to see it.”

“Tt.”

“What are you even organizing anyway?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” 

Tim stayed silent, knowing that Damian wanted to share. “If you must, they are past files of those associated with Batman. I am simply updating the files to the best of my ability.”

Tim mumbled to himself and paced, rubbing his eyes and running his hands through his hair.

“Drake, who is this?” Damian said with a rare tone of confusion.

“Nightingale... alias (Y/N) (L/N)? Monthly payment $50,000?! Status: HIATUS? How have we not heard of her?”

“Did she live here?”

“I don’t - wait! I do know who that is! She wasn’t around as much as Robin, but she was there... I remember hearing something on the news a few days ago about her. Is she alive?”

“It doesn’t say she’s dead!”

“it said monthly payment, is there an address?”

“Let me see, yes. 5133 N. 23rd Street. Suite 7E.”

The two usual enemies looked at each other in agreement for a rare moment.

“Detective work?”

“Indeed.”

------

He laid next to you, you both stared at the ceiling, wanting to fall asleep but not wanting to leave the other awake. Your hands were entwined between you. his thumb caressed your hand gently, lovingly. as if you had been with him this whole time. He repeatedly apologized. So did you.

“I’m sorry I never tried looking for you. I think...I think I didn’t want to be even more heartbroken if I found out you were really gone.”

“And I’m sorry I never tried to contact you. I had been watching you, actually. I know your favorite coffee shop. I know that every two weeks you go to the hair salon and change the style so slightly it just makes you feel like you’re starting a new life.”

“Whoah, stalker?”

He grabs you and pulls you into his chest. as he does this, you look over his shoulder at the clock; 5:37 AM.

“(Y/N)...I -” He gets cut off. The doorbell rings.

You pull back and look at him apologetically, slowly standing up, but he is quick to follow. He grabs your wrist as you near the doorway and as you turn he stands, contemplating his words. His eyebrows knitted together.

“Jay, what is it?” You put your hand on his shoulder, trying to soothe whatever stress occupied him.

“Don’t answer it.” 

You look at him, dumbfounded for a moment. You shake your head and rush to the door, opening it just as the doorbell rang again.

“How can I...help...you...” You were met with two boys, two teenagers, at your door before 6. 

“Are you (Y/N)?” The taller one stated. You heard Jason storm to the door. He yanked it open the rest of the way.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” 

[odilestory]

are u gonna do a part 2 to the jason fic?

Yes!! Eventually I will, but I haven’t found the time to write it and I’ve been a bit uninspired If anyone has suggestions for what they want to happen next,, let me know!!

[odilestory]

untitled jay x reader fic pt.1 (jason todd x reader)

This is so long oml. but i’ve had this idea for a whole minute so i thought i’d better put it down. anyway, enjoy!

---

Legs and arms crossed, you sat slumped in a cold metal chair outside your favorite coffee shop. You pushed down your sunglasses (Versace, another gift) and peered over the brims at the jumbotron in the middle of the square. A news headline.

Will Gotham’s symbol of hope and empowerment ever return? - 5 years pass since the last appearance of the beloved Nightingale - 

You push your glasses back up just in time to miss the photo shown. The last photo of you two - though, of course, no one would ever know it was you two - that was ever taken. 

Five years ago, a bystander snapped a picture of Nightingale and Robin leaning towards one another, about to have their first kiss. That photo had become iconic. There were so many theories about what happened to each of you: the young couple ran from Batman to get hitched, or you were undercover and you killed Robin and then yourself. The second one hurt.

Regardless of the picture shown, you clear your throat, take another sip of coffee and stand up to begin the walk back to your apartment where you’ll inevitably spend the rest of the day.

A few heads turn as you walk down the street. Some women are jealous of your bag (Balenciaga) or your new shoes (classic black Louboutins with the red sole). It was a hard choice today between the Louboutins and the Ralph & Russo Edens, but the black pumps were a better match with your Louis Vuitton Belted Trapeze coat and High Waisted Loos Pant. It was a no-brainer.

The only stop you made was to glance at the news again. A report about Batman and company. You walked away, rolling your eyes, as you knew that Gotham’s “heroes” weren't what they always seem. They would know if they’d been where you’d been.

---

The clean, white apartment often seemed too perfect. You didn’t deserve it, but Bruce insisted that he buy you a place to stay. After Jay’s death, living at or even visiting the manor was too much, and after your parents died (not even six months after Jason passed), you had nowhere to go. Bruce gave you a place to go because he didn’t know how else to say sorry. Sorry for killing your boyfriend. Sorry for killing your drive. For killing the one you loved.

Your cell phone rang. You felt no immediate emotion as you knew it was Dick calling to check in. He’s the only one that ever calls anyway.

- Hello?

- Hey baby-gale, how are you?

- How do you think?

- Have you been out yet today? Socialize at all?

- I got coffee. Like I do every morning. You don’t need to keep checking in. Unless there’s something you need to let me know about, you don’t need to call me every day. I can survive.

- I apologize for caring? Come on, (Y/N), we miss you. It hasn’t been the same. Hell, you don’t even know Tim or Damian yet. And when was the last time you actually went out? You’re 20 years old. At least go to a club or something. I know you can afford something right off the runway so why not wear it out? 

- I went two years ago, to the club down the street. But it was like... ugh. I watched people dance and I wanted it to be us. It was torture. Like I kept hearing his voice... I don’t want to do that to myself. 

- Try again. For me? How’bout you go out with me and Barbara. If it's too much, we’ll all leave, no problem. Your check should be at your place today. Go spend it on something to wear, we’ll meet you at Mother’s at 10.

You didn’t respond, not wanting to admit defeat. You sighed and hung up the phone, but you knew that Dick knew you would be there. 

In the meantime, you made lunch and checked your current account balance. You had $28,743.92 in your savings. It was more than enough to buy a nice look for tonight, but you wanted to wait.

Another thing Bruce did to “accommodate you” was he would send you a quarterly check of $50,000. Every three months you would receive a plain check, directly from the man himself, along with a note from him. Every note had been a plea to return. Apparently, your old suit was displayed right next to Jason’s, as if you were dead as well.

You heard the mail fall through the slot in your door and quickly sorted through the magazines, coupons, and bills to find the envelope that mattered. Sure enough, there it was. You tore it open, threw the note aside. You’d read it later. 

There it was: $50,000 from the man himself sitting in your freshly manicured fingers. You ran a nude, glossy, almond-shaped nail over the writing as you put the check down and exchanged it for the note. You unfolded the card.

(Y/N),

We’re here if you need us. Just call. For anything.

We grieve too.

B. Wayne

You folded it back up and slid it across your counter, once again grabbing the check and throwing it in a different Balenciaga bag, putting back on the Louboutins, and headed down to the bank.

---

“Well look at you!”

“Miss ‘hasn’t left the house in 5 years’ really cleans up! What is that, Valentino?”

Dick and Barbara stared at you in awe. You picked out the Michael Kors Sequined Mesh Bell-Bottom Gold Jumpsuit just because you knew it was Mother’s.

“It’s Michael Kors. Did you get us on the list?” 

Mother’s was the weirdest club you had perhaps ever stepped foot in, but it was Dick’s favorite. The club was basically straight out of the 70′s and 80′s. They only played music from those decades, and they even had a disco ball out at all times. It was cramped, but busy every night. They had great food and even better drinks, and even though you weren’t 21 you knew you could get Dick to buy a few for you.

“Of course. Come on, let's have some fun.” 

Barbara clutched Dick’s arm and you fiddled with you cobalt blue Balenciaga clutch as your heels clicked towards the bouncer.

“Name?” A large, burly man dressed nicely in a navy blue suit held a clipboard on one hand and in the other the clasp of the red rope, ready to let us through if we were eligible.

“Grayson. These two are with me.” He flashed his classic smile and motioned to you and Babs, receiving a welcoming smile in return.

“Enjoy your night.” He unhooked the rope and as you pushed through the door, you were met with colorful, flashing lights, people yelling and dancing, and very loud Duran Duran. Maybe this will be fun.

Swerving around other excited and tipsy club-goers, you all found a booth right off the dance floor and set your stuff down there. 

“We’re gonna go to the bar, want anything?” Barbara leaned close to you so you could hear over the loud music.

“Something poisonous! I’ll wait here.” You smiled and leaned on the table, flicking the sequins on your pants and shifting weight between your heels and the balls of your feet.

“We’ll be right back!” They walked away, again arm in arm. That could be you and him right now, if only he were still here.

(at the bar)

“There he is.” Dick got Barbara’s attention as he sighted the taller man sitting at the end of the bar politely declining inquiries for his number.

“Dick, are you sure this is gonna work? She doesn’t have a clue, what if it just scares her away? Pushes her further into that darkness?” She grabbed his arm, making him face her. For the first time since they came up with this plan, he was doubtful. “Dick, is he ready? You all just made up. He just healed things with Bruce. Are you sure he doesn’t need a break before he tries something like this?”

“They loved each other. They love each other. Still. Nothing is gonna change that. I have a feeling its now or never. Any longer and I think she might try and be with him the only way she thinks is possible. I don’t want her to go that far. I’m not gonna let her do what she says she wants to. I’m not gonna let her die when he’s alive. This is happening. Now or never.”

She nodded. Both were determined now. Dick waved his hand to grab his attention.

“Jason!” He looked up with relief and excused himself from the current flirt session he had been roped into. He hopped off the bar stool, leaving his drink and strode towards Dick rather hurriedly.

“Dick, I gotta be honest, I’m not sure about this, you sure she’s not gonna freak?”

“Oh, she’s gonna freak,” Barbara laughed, “But its now or never.” The couple said at the same time.

“We’re gonna bring her a drink, wait a minute or two, and we’ll get her to come dance. Ask her to dance. The music is so loud no one is gonna notice if you explain the whole coming back to life thing, so don’t worry. Explain if you have to.” Dick hurriedly motioned his plan with his hands as if it was an actual mission, and truthfully it was because he had Tim and some other “extras” scattered about in case anything went wrong, in fact, even the bouncer was in on it. Dick told him he was trying to get his two friends to make up and to not let you leave.

“Whatever you say birdbrain, but if this ruins everything, I will literally kill you.”

You had been pulled out onto the crowded, sweaty dancefloor, and were dancing with Dick while Babs was in the bathroom (she wasn’t actually in the bathroom; she was hyping up Jason, but you didn’t know that, of course).

The song stopped and you were in a happy laughing fit: you were having lots more fun than you thought you would. The next song started, it was a song that you, Dick, and Jason would all dance around to and mockingly sing along to. It was Lovemaker by Wham (not George Michael’s Wham!, the other one).

You started dancing with Dick again, making stupid faces and joking about when you were younger. He glanced behind you but quickly brought his eyes back to you again.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, I thought I saw Babs.”

You were about to respond with a quick “ok” when someone tapped you on the shoulder.

“Hey, doll.”

You froze and looked at Dick for a second, who, instead of recognizing your discomfort, smiled at you. So you turned around, ready to correct the mistake in word choice this stranger had made.

“Sorry, I -”

To your complete surprise, you were met with a strangely familiar face.

“Wanna dance?” Very out of character for Jay, he stuttered a bit, barely speaking loud enough for you to hear.

“Wh-Jay? N-no...No! What the fuck!? You died! What the hell? What the fuck

[odilestory]

please, can I call you her name? (tim drake x super!reader)

-this is the same timeline as my “Two Years” series, just much later :)- 

-also, inspired by Cornerstone by Arctic Monkeys-

...

Your death had been everything but easy for Tim.

It had come as a surprise to everyone; especially your family, and especially the Waynes.

It wasn’t at all difficult to figure out who did it: Luthor, of course. However, the world’s second greatest detective (and even the world’s first) was so blinded by your death, that Luthor slipped his mind. He immediately turned to aliens or some otherworldly force to explain your death, but ultimately it was your father who had to relay the message as to who your killer was.

The last thing Clark wanted to do was confront Tim. He knew how much you loved him, and he you, and seeing Tim made him think of your smile and laugh, the one you shared with Tim so often.

But, it had to be done. Tim was locked in his room and it was messier than usual. Papers everywhere, articles littering the floor, even one that your mother had to painfully write, for no one knew that “The Death of Supergirl” was actually “The Death of my Daughter.” Clark opened the door with force, as his eyes met the boy. Dark circles and tears evident. And one word made the boy go insane. 

“Luthor.”

Everything he had he pushed off his desk, even his computer and coffee. He groaned and screamed, angry at himself and Luthor, of course. Without another thought, he ran towards your father, who didn’t budge when the boy ran into him full force, hitting his chest, using him as a punching bag to get out his anger. When Clark had enough, he pulled the broken boy into a hug, both of them mourning a loved one lost.

---

No more than two months later, Tim was back to work but not back to himself. He had a team to keep up with, whether that meant you were on it or not. Everyone was hurt by your loss, of course, but none compare to him. 

That became evident when he mistook Miss Martian (yes, ridiculous of him) as you while she was piloting. M’gann, being so close to you, had picked up on a few of your mannerisms, including what you would say to Tim when you needed his help with tech on the jet. 

“Red, I could really use your hand right now!” There was a red warning light flashing and M’gann didn’t know what to do. Tim was simply sitting down, his head in space (a usual habit since your departure), but as he shot his head up because he thought he heard your voice, he tricked himself into thinking it was you. He and M’gann locked eyes for a few moments before she realized what was going on in his head.

She looked at him with a sincere gaze but firmly said his name again.

“Tim.”

He instantly stood up, snapping out of his daze, but he too realized what he was doing, and looked aside of M’gann, embarrassed. He walked over to her mumbling, “oh, right,” under his breath as he took controls from her and fixed the situation with ease.

Once it was smooth sailing again, without eye contact he asked her the question she knew was coming.

“Could I call you her name?” he already knew the answer, but he wanted to deny it.

She hesitated to say something, and almost put her hand on his shoulder, but decided it better to walk away.

---

A few days later, Tim was walking aimlessly around the manor, simply searching for something that would take his mind off of you. He wandered into the library and found Barbara and Dick sitting across from each other on opposite couches. Babs was deep in a book while Dick was looking over what looked like case files, occasionally checking his phone.

Tim pictured you sitting on that couch, reading just like Babs. He stood looking intently at her, as if it were you, eyebrows scrunching with focus, chewing on the inside of your lip, or twirling your hair while you read. Just like you always did. 

He started to tear up without realizing it, and when he sniffled was when Dick noticed his presence, prompting Barbara to look up as well.

Dick knew what his brother was going through, and his heart hurt for him; knowing he couldn’t do anything to help, for all Tim wanted was you.

Tim dragged his feet over to the couch and sat close to Barbara, laying his forehead on her shoulder so that his face was hidden. Babs ran her fingers through his hair ( she was one of your best friends, and it hadn’t been easy for her either).

In between sniffs, Tim asked the burning question.

“Please...can I call you her name?” 

“Oh, Tim...” Dick stood up upon hearing his brother’s comment and seeing Barbara’s sad gaze. He sat down next to Tim and pulled him into his chest, letting him sob as Barbara left the room, tears now forming in her eyes as well.

---

Tim, Damian, and Bruce often went to the Kent’s house to visit. Usually, Lois would make coffee or tea and everyone would just sit and talk about what was going on. It was hard for Tim, as he felt like he didn’t belong anymore.

It seemed Damian had Jon to talk to (the kids), Bruce had Clark and Lois (the adults), but Tim didn’t have you. So, he either watched from afar as Damian and Jon did whatever, or jumped in and out of conversations between the adults. He didn’t enjoy it as much as he wanted to, seeing as your family was the closest thing to you he had left.

During a certain trip, Clark mentioned something about your car sitting in the barn. Tim didn’t hear it at first, staring into his coffee cup, off into space. But it was Bruce who brought him out of the trance.

“Well, if its ok with you, we’d be happy to take it off your hands. I’m sure Tim could find a use for it; maybe, use some parts for new tools, or reverse engineer it. Right, Tim?”

His head shot up, nodding without knowing what was going on. Clark laughed.

“I’m sure she wouldn’t have had a problem with it,” he stood up, knowing it was about time for everyone to leave and got the keys for your car to give to Tim. “You know how to drive it?”

Tim understood what Bruce got him into, and he was fine with it. “I’ll figure it out...Thank you.

Clark tossed him the keys and then he and Lois both gave Tim a hug goodbye, waving the three of them out the door. 

Once they were in the driveway, Tim turned to his adopted family.

“I’ll meet you guys at home, I’m gonna take her car.”

He turned to head towards the barn as Damian got a slap on the arm for commenting: “Why would you want to drive that old thing home?”

It only irked Tim, and he walked faster away from Bruce and Damian as his adopted father said he’d see him later.

Tim took the long road home. He drove through mountains and fields enjoying memories of you. Picturing you driving, one hand on the wheel and one hand in his. He could smell your perfume on the seatbelt, and tears once again started to fall from his eyes (an activity becoming more and more normal).

Now, whenever he drives your car, he chooses to take the long way to wherever he’s going. Kids at his school started noticed his change, as the rich kid went from driving an Audi to driving an old Jeep. He didn’t let it get to him; he knew it wouldn’t have gotten to you.

---

It wasn’t until a year later, with Tim still broken, that M’gann thought of a solution. She called him in, along with a few other friends (friends who were supportive of her decision and wanted to make sure Tim went through with it), to the shared living space. 

“Listen, Tim, you need to spill. You need to tell her everything you wish you had told her before she...died. We need you. The real you, not the broken you.”

“M’gann, I would if I could! You of all people should be able to tell.” He turned to walk away as she shifted her form and voice. 

“Tim, come on. Try.” He stopped and turned at her voice. It was you. M’gann was you, and Tim wasn’t even angry, because deep down he wanted to tell you everything. Slowly, he approached her. She was the closest thing he could ever get to having you back, and he realized that. 

With her next words, he broke down.

“...and yes. You can call me anything you want.”

[odilestory]

darkest age of odile - vigilante!reader x nightwing

The curtains billowed in the warm, early morning breeze as you jumped through the open window. You’d have to call it a successful night of crime-stopping; three robberies, a handful of muggings, and you even got to see Jason briefly.

The bed was empty. It was still visible where he had gotten up to get ready, as the covers were thrown carelessly across the mattress. He had to go to Gotham this morning to help out Batman. He said to call him on the radio after your night was over.

You let your hair down first. The mask came off second. He wasn’t there to help unzip your suit so it took longer than usual. You had adopted his habit of tossing your uniform nonchalantly on the floor, along with the mask. You ruffled your hair a few times and took a breath, strolling over to the mirror as the moonlight from the window cast a glowing, grid-like shadow across your form. You two always checked each other for cuts that would need more than a band-aid, but you were alone tonight. You brushed your fingers and your broken nails over your stomach, chest, and shoulders. Nothing major. Time for a shower.

You didn’t turn the lights on, showering in the dark. Usually, he would shower with you; you two would joke and laugh about whatever happened that night, or what happened the day before at his family’s house (the site of often visits). You quietly hummed to yourself. He used to sing Maria to the tune of your name. After the lukewarm water stopped flowing, you wrapped your hair in a towel, put on underwear and one of his shirts, and headed back to the bedroom where the radio was.

-Hey Boy Wonder. Easy night. Simple robberies. I saw Jay; he seemed a little off though. How are you? Over.

...

-Heya. I’m trying to track some guys, do you mind if I call you later? Sorry, Love.

...

-I’ll try and stay awake; be safe. I love you.

...

-I love you more than anything else. You are my world. Never forget it. I love you, (Y/N).

...

-I love you too, Dick. Never forget it.

You set down the handheld and walked to the kitchen. You made tea and got some cereal. You sat down on the couch and turned on the TV.

You looked around; you should really try and clean up before he gets back. Your place is a mess and you both have been too busy to do anything about it.

You put it off and turned on a movie for a few hours. As the credits played, you noticed he hadn’t called back. You brushed it off as him being busy and switched on the news as you went to make another cup of tea.

You sat on the counter watching the political news while you waited for the water to boil. When it whistled, you poured it into your empty cup and put in a teabag. You walked back over to the couch, still wondering when he would call.

Breaking: A murder has just been reported in Gotham.

Another one? Hopefully the boys were nearby.

The victim is said to be identified as Bludhaven vigilante and former Robin, Nightwing.

They showed his picture in the top right corner. You dropped your cup and scrambled toward the screen, touching the photo like it was really him.

-No...no.

You ran to the bedroom and radioed Batman and Robin

-Is he okay? Tell me he’s ok. He’s not dead, is he?

Damian answered, his voice seemingly unphased. Did they not know about it? Didn’t they hear the report?

-He was out tracking earlier. We’re not sure what happened but-

You had heard enough. You turned off the radio. In a blind rampage of anger and grief, you ripped your suit back on. Clumsily slapped on the mask and didn’t even bother to put your hair up.

You were so blinded by your emotions you failed to hear the news update coming from the living room:

Update on vigilante death: the victim has been identified as an impersonator. The real Nightwing is not dead.

......

You jumped out the window in a fury, rushing to your bike (a very generous gift from Jason and Tim). Modified so that your fingerprint would act as a key to start the motor and certain controls were voice activated.

You didn’t even bother to put a helmet on; your hair whipped in the wind as you raced down streets, dodging between cars and trucks, making sharp turns and causing a police chase.

The sirens only motivated you more. You sped towards Gotham as fast as you could. The news report said he was found on a bridge near the harbor. You found it strange though because that was nowhere near where he said he would be (he told you he would be in the downtown area).

You shut off all comms. You didn’t want to hear anything else. You only wanted to grieve.

Finally you skidded to a stop in front of a dozen officers and detectives surrounding the body. His body.

The three police cars that had been chasing you skidded to a stop as well. All of the officers inside jumped out and pointed their guns at you.

The blood was too much to bear. He laid face down; his body was so mangled you could barely tell who it was. It was so bad, it didn’t even look like him.

There was only one thought that crossed your mind when you saw that body. You couldn’t live without him. It would be impossible. You weren’t strong enough.

The tears you held in finally flowed. Your throat was raw from screaming.

You heard another car skid to a top. Doors slammed.

You turned towards the rail of the bridge. He’s gone.

You took determined steps towards the rail as you heard Robin and Batman yell at you to stop. Think about what you were doing. You had already thought. You had already decided.

Your hand touched the cold railing. Your knuckles turned white as you gripped the bars, boost ing yourself up to stand on the edge.

You looked down.

Your reflection barely visible in the dark water a hundred feet below.

You put your foot out and let gravity do its job.

-(Y/N)! NO!

Your mind played tricks on you. How cruel. You heard him yell your name. You turned as you fell and saw him standing leaning over the rail, reaching out for you.

You hit the cold water and let yourself go, believing you would be with him in the afterlife.

You cursed your mind for letting you create such a ruse. If only you knew it was really him.

Now he would be the one living without you.

[lex-luth-or-deactivated20180718]

#1-126 Prompts for any Character!!

Okay!! So, you can pick any of these prompts for any character you want at any time. Thanks!!!!

1. “This isn’t gonna end well!”

2. “Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

3. “Are you kidding me? We’re not ‘fine’!

4. “You’ve only heard his side of the story. You never asked for mine.”

5. “Well, this is where I live.”

6. “Oh my God! You’re in love with him/her!”

7. “You make me feel like I’m not good enough.”

8. “For some reason I’m attracted to you.”

9. “I am not losing you again.”

10. “Why don’t they just kiss already?”

11. “I think I picked up your coffee by mistake.”

12. “All I wanted was your honesty.”

13. “Why do you keep pushing me away?”

14. “I can’t explain right now, but I need you to trust me.”

15. “I’ve never felt this way before….and it scares the shit out of me.” 16. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

17. “Are you really taking his side against me?”

18. “Wait a second are you jealous?”

19. “I wish I could hate you.”

20. “I’m sorry if this upsets you, but I’m going to marry her/him.”

21. “You know, it hurt when I realized that you’re not in love with me. But nothing can compare to the pain I felt when I saw you fall in love with her.”

22. “Come over here and make me.”

23. “This is by far the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in.”

24. “You’re the only one I trust to do this.”

25. “I thought you were dead.”

26. “This isn’t just about you. It’s about what’s best for all of us.”

27. “I love you, you asshole.”

28. “You did this for me?”

29. “You can’t protect me.”

30. “You know I wouldn’t do this if I had any other choice.”

31. “Promise me you’ll look after your mom.”

32. “I’m so stupid to make the mistake of falling in love with my best friend.”

33. “Stop talking about the past, I could be dead in a matter of hours… make me up a future.”

34. “The way you flirt is shameful.”

35. “I waited and waited, but you never came back.”

36. “You never told me you had a fucking twin.”

37. “I want to go back to before….”

38. “I just wanted an easy day with my girlfriend/boyfriend. What’s so wrong with that?”

39. “Go then, leave! See if I care!”

40. “Why are you up so early?”

41. “Please, take me instead!”

42. “You braided his hair?”

43. “She’s been missing since Friday and you’re not worried?”

44. “Have you lost your damn mind?!”

45. “Please don’t argue. You have to leave right now, you aren’t safe here.”

46. “I’m your daughter.”

47. “I’m not surprised that you murdered him.”

48. “Is there a special reason, as to why you’re wearing my shirt?”

49. “Am I supposed to be scared of you?”

50. “Don’t use me as an example. I wasn’t a good kid.”

51. “Is that what you’re doing? Trying to make me to hate you?”

52. “I’ve been in love with you my entire life.”

53. “I’m not happy here.”

54. “If he’s going to treat you like shit I’m going to kick his ass.”

55. “I just want to cuddle and watch Friends.”

56. “You’re hiding something from me.”

57. “If I die, I’m going to haunt your ass.”

58. “I want my best friend back.”

59. “You better have a good reason for waking me up at the ass-crack of dawn.”

60. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

61. “A wedding?”

62. “I just want to be alone right now.”

63. “Don’t you dare to ever do that again!”

64. “Where would someone hide in a town like this?”

65. “If I ever see you anywhere near her, you’ll have to deal with me!”

66. “I thought you were a dream come true.”

67. “Everyone keeps telling me you’re the bad guy.”

68. “I came here to explain what happened, and I’m not leaving until you listen.”

69. “I made a mistake.”

70. “H-How long have you been standing there?”

71. “You can’t break my heart like this!”

72. “I wasn’t going to wait around for you forever.”

73. “The skirt is supposed to be this short.”

74. “I’ve moved on.”

75. “This is why you don’t ever have any shirts to wear.”

76. “Run, and don’t ever look back.”

77. “The three seconds rule doesn’t apply to sticky foods.”

78. “I think I’m in love with you, and I’m terrified.”

79. “Please, don’t give up on me.”

80. “When are you going to realize that I don’t care?”

81. “I may be an idiot but I’m your idiot.”

82. “When you love someone, you just don’t stop. Ever. Even when people roll their eyes or call you crazy… even then. Specially then!”

83. “Fuck…I feel I’ve been hit by a car.”

84. “Those things you said yesterday… Did you mean them?”

85. “I know that you have reached a decision, but given that it is a stupid ass decision I have elected to ignore it”

86. “I’m tired of being your secret.”

87. “They always make shower sex sound so appealing, but honestly it seems quite dangerous.”

88. “Do you ever think if people heard our conversations they’d lock us up?”

89. “Let me tell you exactly where in hell you can go.”

90.“Who gave you that black eye?!”

91. “After everything you did, you’re asking ME to apologize for snapping at you ONCE?”

92. “I miss her so damn much, and it’s killing me that she’s gone!”

93. “What the hell are you doing here?! I told you I never wanted to see you again!”

94. “It must be hard with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line.”

95. “Are you drunk?”

96. “I’m sorry, what were you saying? I keep getting lost in your eyes.” 97. “You got her pregnant?! What were you thinking?”

98. “It’s okay baby, I’m here for you.”

99. “You say the nastiest things when you’re angry, so yes, I’m walking away from you now.

100. “I’m starting an idiot jar. Any time you do or say anything idiotic, you have to put at least a dollar in it—more depending on how stupid the thing that you said or did was.”

101. “My parents asked about you.”

102.“Oh, gosh, you’ve insulted me! What ever shall I do? I’ll be mentally and emotionally scared for years!”

103. “You haven’t even touched your food. What’s going on?”

104. “Do you need me to get anything from the store?”

105. “They say I’m in here because I’m crazy, I think I’m crazy because I’m in here.”

106. “There’s no getting out of this. You ruined me”

107. “If you don’t want to talk about what happened, then say so. Don’t just lie and say it’s fine.”

108. “I was going to kiss him, but then my friend texted me about going to Taco Bell, and, well, there’s this cashier that works there who is way cuter, so I bailed on the rest of the date.”

109. “Don’t say you love me.”

110. “It’s a hobby of mine to prove you wrong.”

111. Meeting him/her for the first time

112. Him/her asking you out

113. Your first date

114. Your first kiss

115. Cuddling with him/her

116. Neck kisses

117. “I swear I didn’t mean to touch your butt.”

118. “Why are you wearing my shirt? Please, don’t take it off. It looks good on you.”

119. Going on a vacation together

120. Going to an amusement park together

121. Dancing together

122.Him/her rescuing you (if the person you want can do that ex. superhero) 123. Your first time

124. And what did we learn from that?” “Not to mess with you.”

125.Comforting him/her after a nightmare

126. The wedding day

[odilestory]

and i... (older damian x reader)

I smiled and kissed him goodbye. He said “I love you.”

I watched him drive away with Bruce; they both wore stoic masks. I watched until the car was out of sight.

I tried to stay calm, but I, along with everyone else in the cave, knew that this operation was not one Damian should have been taken on. I leaned my head on Jason’s shoulder, eyes closed and focusing on my breathing. I heard Dick pacing in front of me, and the occasional voice of Alfred over the comms. I heard Tim sipping a drink and cursing under his breath, convinced everything was his fault. It wasn’t.

25 minutes - no update

45 minutes - not a word

75 minutes - and I began to worry

I heard the engine. They were coming back. I stood up. I was fidgeting; I couldn’t wait for him to tell me how it went. I wanted to see his look of frustration as he chastised himself. And then I wanted to see him look up at me and smile and say its ok because he's there. Alive and well and with me.

I began living with Damian four months ago, after countless nights at the manor we figured it would work. We were almost at two years together.

The engine got closer and I got restless. I ran up to the car when it came to a stop. Bruce stepped out slowly. He went into a rage.

He threw off his cowl and I shuddered. He stomped and hit the car and I waited for Damian to come out too. He slammed his fists onto the keyboard of the computer and I gripped Jason’s arm as he murmured “Oh God...” Dick walked in circled holding his head. Tim stood thinking. Head up, but eyes on the floor. 

We were all dressed in uniform ready to go out in back up if need be. I pulled on my sleeves and my eyes started tearing up.

And I waited for Damian to step out of the car.

And I looked at Bruce who looked back at me. The wealthy businessman could barely hold my gaze. He fidgeted too. He walked in circles. He gripped his fists. He turned as he uttered “I’m sorry.” 

My heart stopped. My world collapsed. Cold tears ran down my cheeks, leaving slick black rivers on my mask. 

“Where is he?” I choked out. He only shook his head. 

“Too much damage. I-I couldn’t get him out. It would have been worse.”

I knew the coordinates of where they were. Of where he was. I ran to my motorcycle and drove. I heard Jason coming up behind me. I didn’t let him catch up. 

Tears blurred my vision as I swerved through traffic and I heard sirens all around.

A dusty building. A pile of rubble just collapsed. I got off and ran. At the very center of it all I saw something shine. Red.

A dug through the dust and I found his hand. And I locked my fingers with his and I held them tight. I followed his hand to his arm and his arm to his shoulder and his shoulder to his neck and his neck to his face.

And I touched his face. And I heard footsteps behind me and I felt a hand on my shoulder. 

And I yelled.

“No no no no no no no no,” and I held him, “No no no no no,” and I kissed him, “No no no no no,” And I tried to pull of his mask but Jason stopped me. I dug through the rubble and I saw him. Torn clothes and all. Multiple wounds and I cried after every one. I lifted him up and with the help of Jay we carried him back to the cave in solidarity. 

We put him down on a medical bed and I laid there with him. I talked to him and I kissed him and I touched his cheek in the same way he would smile at. 

And I felt Bruce’s hand on my shoulder and I slapped his hand away and I yelled: “You. This is all your fault. This is all your fault. Everything. How could you do this?” I yelled and hit his chest as hard as I could but my voice faded as my throat grew raw and I fell to the floor in pain.

And I knew my whole life was over.

---

One month later and I stood stoic at his funeral. Attended by league members and close friends and family. I stood front and center, holding a full bouquet of red roses. I couldn’t bring myself to write a eulogy. All his brothers and Bruce gave lovely speeches, all with me in mention. 

I bathed in the melody of the music; it matched my mood so well.

I stood at his grave as others walked away. They gave me condolences and light touched on the shoulder as they left. It was only Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, and Alfred standing with me. Each staring at the headstone in remembrance.

Bruce cleared his throat and walked towards me.

“He told me -- all of us -- how much he loved you. He told me he didn’t understand the appeal of romantic relationships before meeting you.”

I lifted my head but I couldn’t look him in the eyes. He continued.

“When he went to Israel to observe and report with Dick,” He reached into his coat pocket. “He got you this.”

He placed a small white box in my hand. I opened it and I cried again. I cried all the tears I had left, even though I thought I had already cried them all.

“He told me -- he told all of us -- he wanted to marry you.”

And I dropped to my knees. And I put the ring on my finger. And I admired his taste; a ruby framed by two diamond placed on a gold band. And I cried. And I apologized, for this was not Bruce’s fault, as I said it was.

And I never forget him. And I think about him everyday. And whenever I go out on patrol with Jason I feel him beside me. And even though I knew he never left me, he’s gone.

[odilestory]

upcoming stories :))

Stories I’m working on include:

The Perfect Roommate - Clark Kent x Reader

Highschool AU - Batsis x Batfam

An Angsty Fic - Older!Damian x Reader

[odilestory]

Hi would you be able to do a batfam x reader, where she sneaks out to a party and gets caught coming home late at night? Thanks!

Maybe a little short, but I wanted to deliver. Hope you enjoy! :)

Unlike the boys in the house, I went to public school. Public school is, in my opinion, much more interesting than *Gotham Academy.* Being an adopted child of Bruce Wayne made it even more interesting.I wouldn’t say I was friends with everyone, but I got along with everyone. Even grades above me. Being a sophomore, parties aren’t a huge thing for me (or any other second year), but occasionally I get invited to a kickback or house party. Today was one of those occasions.While walking to my fourth period after lunch, a junior stopped me in the hall. I recognized him. I think he was friends with Tim…Conner. His name was Conner. He stopped me in the hall.“Hey, Wayne!” He waved at me. “Heya.” I shifted my grip on my bag waiting to hear his comment.“I have an extra invite to a friend’s party. They have a cool beach house a few miles away, and parents are out of town,”“Sounds fun!”“Yeah, you wanna go? Its later tonight. You can just show up anytime after 8 if you’re interested.”“I’ll see what I can do! Mind giving me a ride if needed?”“No problem, just text me or DM if you need one.”“Cool.” I smiled and he smiled and he walked away and I went to class. He probably didn’t invite Tim because Tim doesn’t like big social gatherings. Makes sense.

-

The day ended and Dick picked me up, as usual. He didn’t like the idea of me going to parties with hormonal, drunk, high, teenagers; I decided not to tell him about the party.“How was your day?”“Good. You?” “Fine, nothing to complain about.”I turned on the radio and buckled up.“Am I on patrol tonight?” “Why?”“I wanna catch up on sleep.”He laughed. I’m doing great. “If you are, I can take over, but I think Fridays are usually your nights off. I think you’re good, but check when we get home to be sure.”“Ok, cool thanks.”“Sure you’re not skipping to go to a party?”Quick, answer! “Dick, sophomores don’t get invited to parties. They sit at home, alone, Juuling and getting high while watching Netflix.” I hit him in the arm.“Oh, right I forgot.” He hit me back and turned up the radio. The ride was quiet the rest of the way home.

-

Alfred opened the door, greeting us as always. He took my backpack for me. I could hear Damian arguing with Tim about something. I ran to the living room to see what it was. The scene was Jason, lounging on the couch with a bag of chips, intently watching Tim and Dami yell at each other. I ruffled Jay’s hair and he jumped up to hug me, asking me how my day was. We talked for a moment, but I had better plans.I got a running start, and successfully tackled Damian, hugging him and laughing as he kicked the air and tried to escape my grasp.“(Y/N), let go this instant! I will hurt you!”I laughed and let him go, standing up. “You wouldn’t even slap me if you had the chance.” I walked over to Tim and pushed his forehead. “Hey!”I headed towards the stairs. “Stop yelling so much!” I yelled as I walked up to my room.

Sitting on my bed, I arranged for Conner to pick me up away from the house. I figured I could bypass all the security, So now my biggest worry was an outfit.I decided on a fiery red set. A cropped fringe top with matching fringe skirt and an old biker jacket Jay gave me. I got an old pair of converse and set out.

I got out successfully, and Conner pulled up on time. The party was basic, but fun. Loud music, mainly rap and hip hop; red solo cups, wine, beer, vapes, weed, edibles, most of those things I did not partake in. Someone had mint Juul pods though, so I had maybe three puffs. I got a ride home from the DD of the party at around 1, and I thought my night was done. I was wrong.

I knew Alfred would be in the cave, and everyone else was on patrol, so as long as I got past security, I was good to come in through the front door. I was wrong.Security was the easy part. It wasn’t hard to maneuver around cameras and lasers. That went quick.I approached the door, unlocked it quietly, opened it quietly, closed it quietly, and walked in quietly. I passed the kitchen, almost to the stairs, when I heard:“Well, well, well. What the hell do we have here?” I stopped dead. Fuck. Jason. He laughed and walked towards me, shoveling handfuls of coco puffs into his mouth as he did so. He put a hand on my shoulder. “You are not going anywhere.” He turned his head towards the stairs. “Demon, Tim, Wing-Ding, get your asses down here boys, I have a surprise.” He laughed and held me close so that I wouldn’t move.“Jason, stop!”“No, no, no. I wanna enjoy this. This is amazing! Oh my god, wow. Wow! Hah!” I heard my brothers groan and shuffle down the stairs.“Language, Todd. And don’t call me that.”“I was in the middle of something important.”“What now, Jay?”They all gasped as they saw me next to Jason. Damian was the first to speak.“Sister, I cannot believe you actually wasted your time at a party. Shameful.”Dick was next. “You told me you were staying home! Did you drink? Smoke?”Tim, “Oh man, wait till Bruce hears about this. Wait till Alfred hears!” He took a sip of coffee.“NO. DO NOT TELL B,” I was begging. I was gonna be in deep shit for this. Bruce hated when I snuck out, especially when I go to parties. “AND DO NOT, DO NOT, TELL ALFRED.”

[odilestory]

Yo, your series is amazing so far :D

thank you so much!!! :))

[odilestory]

welcome to the family. (vigilante!reader x batfam)

beep beep. Caller. Beep beep. caller.

Awoken from my peaceful sleep, I groaned and rolled over onto my back. Under the mountain of a soft, white comforter and sheets, head resting on a silk pillow, I tiredly said, “Comm, caller ID.” I rubbed my eyes waiting for response, resting my hands on my face. “Caller ID: Robin.” The digital human-like voice said back to me. “Ugh my god…” I sat up and looked at the clock on my wall. 2:02 AM. Seriously? “Comm, answer caller.” The horrid beeping stopped and I was greeted by the perpetually snobby voice that was Batman’s Robin. “Good morning, Nightingale.” I fell back onto my back and put my hands back on my face. “Don’t say that, It’s two AM. Shouldn’t you be in bed? Don’t you have your first day of kindergarten tomorrow? You better rest up if you wanna make new friends!” “Shut it. You are wanted at the cave.” “Can’t you wait?” It was silent for a moment. “How long do you need?” “Five hours.” “You will get thirty minutes, maximum.” “I’ll get there when I get there.” I sluggishly got out of bed. I stretched, unsure of what god awful thing I was about to take part in. “Oh, before you go, check your mail. We sent you a present.” He hung up before I could respond. How sweet of them. I trudged out of my room, down the spiral staircase, through the kitchen and living room, and to the white door of my apartment, which was also a gift from the Batman. I opened the door and on the floor sat a slick, matte black box. “What is it this time? Louboutins? Versace? Gucci? McQueen?” I picked up the box, closed the door, and set it down on my kitchen counter, grabbing my scissors and cutting the black ribbon holding the box closed. I lifted the lid. “Oh my god.” I was audibly surprised and excited. Better than any designer brand, I had received a new uniform. A beautiful, slick, black catsuit. Red utility belt included. A magnetically locked zipper held it closed in the back, and on the front there was a high neckline that began with a band of black material specially designed by Wayne Tech (so I’ve been told) and plunged into a deep v of red mesh (which was also strong material, bullet resistant) to mid sternum. The rest of the suit was expertly cut and sewn, patches of more resistant material incorporated where most likely needed. At the bottom of the box, one of my suspicions was correct. To match the suit, there sat a pair of red bottom Louboutins and a slick black domino mask. Smiling, I slipped on the uniform, slid on the heels (which fit perfectly, as expected) and popped on the mask. I slicked back my hair into a low bun, with my hair parted in the center. As I locked on my utility belt, I once again talked to my Comm (Communication System). “Comm, give me a location on Red Hood.” “Location: Downtown Gotham. On the move. Predicted path: Batcave.” Perfect. “Call Red Hood.” “Call in progress.” The phone rang for a second. “Baby Gale? Whadya need?” “A ride. You past my house yet?” “Ill be there in a minute. You’ll hear me pull up.” “Thanks, Hood.” Within thirty seconds, I heard the rev of his bike and was out the window, helmet under my arm. It was a perfect night in Gotham; seventy degrees with no wind, a full moon, and clear sky. ‘Rush hour’ (the time of the most crime) had just ended, so I figured Red Hood was getting off of his nightly hustling. I hopped on the back of the motorcycle and secured my helmet. I put my arms around his waist and we were on our way. “Busy night, Baby?” Ever since meeting he, we had created a brother-sister bond. I was close with all the Bat’s allies, but Red Hood and I clicked. He calls me Baby Gale, sometimes just Baby for short (partially because of my vigilante alter ego, partly because I was, in everyone’s eyes, the baby). I hadn’t been officially welcomed into the family yet, despite the countless gifts I received for helping solve cases and fight. “Wednesday’s my night off; Batgirl takes my shift. I was sleeping and Robin called me on the Comm.” “Yeah, we all got called to the cave,” He shifted his position on the bike. “Me, you, Wing Ding, Red Robin, Batgirl, you know. The works.” “Must be pretty important.” I scoffed. “Yup.” We didn’t talk for the rest of the ride, which wasn’t a long stretch of time. Soon enough, we had entered a secret passage way and were driving down a stretch of concrete, coming up on an opening. He stopped and skidded, and I hopped off. I removed my helmet and set it down on a work bench nearby. Everyone was standing at the computer, listening intently to Batman. One thing was different though; they were smiling. His cowl was off. I could see his dark hair. He had dark hair. At this point I realized I didn’t know who Batman or anyone in the family really was. They knew me, (Y/N) (L/N), but I didn’t know them. They all had their mask off, now that I noticed. Some of them I recognized. Dick Grayson is Nightwing. Dick! Really? Tim Drake is Red Robin. I have like three classes with him at school, how did I not know? There was Robin, who was Damian Wayne, Barbara Gordon, Batgirl, Red Hood is Jason Todd! And Batman. My unofficial adoptive father. The only reason I’m alive and getting an education. Bruce Wayne. Bruce fucking Wayne. Wait, is my dad Bruce Wayne? He stands up and walks to me, no smile. I take off my mask, feeling out of place among bare faces. “The suit looks good.” He cracks a hint of a smile and crosses his arms. I look at him blankly and nod. He laughed a little. Batman? Laughing? Uh-uh. No way. “Consider this your official welcome, (Y/N). Welcome to the family.”

sorry I haven’t posted in so long. I have about five stories in the works right now, most batfam, one Clark Kent :) Ill post as soon as Im done !