— Gotham's newest it girl makes the mistake of going after something that's yours: Jason Todd. It takes two failed plans to learn what it takes to deal with her and your jealousy.
— brief angst, jealousy, pda, batboy shenanigans, fluff, r can wear Jason's clothes; 3.0k+ words
— Masterlist | DC Masterlist | Request Info
There are a few rules to make it as a model in Gotham. The top three are:
3 – Don’t accept any bookings from Oswald Cobblepot (no matter how good the pay).
2 – Use peppermint oil under your nose during outdoor shoots to eliminate unsightly scrunching or grimacing at the smell of Gotham.
1, the most important rule of all – Bruce Wayne and his children are off limits.
Though rule number one has many subsets – don’t flirt with Dick Grayson even if he starts it; Tim Drake already has your headshots and don’t ask how; the little one bites; etc. – it comes down to a simple sentence: The Wayne boys may be eligible, but they aren’t available, so look, don’t touch.
Every year or so, a new group of models come into town. They’re either devastated that they didn’t make it to New York or even Metropolis, or overeager to take the chance and make a name for themselves. This year’s center of attention, the model everyone wants to see, is Arabella Carnegie. She’s pretty, always smiling, and is apparently easy to work with.
Even from across the ballroom, you can tell that you don’t like her. She exudes an air of insufferable nepotism and a superiority complex that makes you wonder how she got into a career that requires her to take instruction from people ‘below her.’
“Thelma Baumgardner.”
Your brows lift, though you’re unsurprised by Tim’s sudden appearance at your side. “Is that someone you’re looking for or just a name you’re trying out?” you inquire.
Tim shakes his head, jutting his chin toward the crowd on the other side of the gala. “Arabella Carnegie, born Thelma Baumgardner. Daddy is old money rich and paid to legally change her name when she turned nine and decided she wanted to be a model.”
“Nine?” you repeat, twisting a champagne flute on the table. “When I was nine I think I still wanted to be an astronaut… Or a vet, or a vet in space for astronaut dogs.”
Tim snorts a laugh at your response, then moves closer to the table. “She’s already broken two of the model rules.”
“Model rules?” you repeat.
“You’ve heard the rumors, don’t play dumb with me.”
You tip your head, conceding the point. “I get summoned to the manor a few times of year,” you grumble, “of course I’ve heard whispers about the rules.”
“Well, Arabella is the new face of the Iceberg Lounge and she’s currently attempting to drape herself on the arm of an heir to the Wayne fortune.”
You freeze, the ballroom seeming too quiet as you ask, “Who?”
“When I was over there, Dick was the target. I think she’s moved on.”
“Tim,” you warn carefully.
“Not yours,” he assures you.
“Not your what?” another person asks before two strong arms snake around your waist, tugging you against a strong chest.
“That’s my cue,” Tim mumbles before he slinks into the corner.
“Hi,” you greet when Jason drops his chin to your shoulder.
“Hi,” he repeats, kissing your neck when your fingers find his forearms. “Ready to get out of here?”
“You promised Bruce an hour.” You hold Jason’s left hand to look at his watch, pointing out, “It hasn’t been an hour.”
Something shatters across the room, and Jason promises, “He won’t even notice.”
You hear an obnoxious giggle, following the sound to the one and only Arabella. You’re not one to get jealous easily, well aware of how committed Jason is. But this girl feels like a threat. So, you nod against Jason and let him whisk you out through the kitchen.
The Iceberg Lounge billboard down the street from Jason’s apartment is new, and you feel a bit nauseous as he drives by it. Until he reaches across the center console and takes your hand, at least.
“Oh,” Alfred exclaims as he steps onto the balcony. “Did Master Damian find you?”
“He did,” you assure him. “Sorry, I just… just wanted to watch the rain.”
“I see. Do be sure to come in before you get too cold, dear.”
You nod, thanking Alfred for the offer to make you tea. Wrapping your arms around your waist, you stare out into the misty field behind Wayne Manor. Bruce had insisted everyone stay for dinner after a meeting about the next fundraiser. What was supposed to be an outdoor dinner was moved inside by the rain, but you needed the break before facing your boyfriend’s family.
“Alfred said you were out here moping,” Jason muses, softly closing the door behind him. “I told him there was no way, but now that I’m looking at you…”
Jason trails off, dragging his thumb beneath your bottom lip. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay, doesn’t invite you to talk, just drapes his big, warm jacket over your shoulders and stands beside you.
“Do you want to go home?” Jason asks after a few minutes.
You shake your head and turn toward him. He immediately knows what you want and pulls you into his arms.
“The last gala was stressful,” you say against his arm. “Sorry.”
“I get it,” Jason promises, rubbing your back. “We can skip.”
“And leave Damian to fend for himself?”
“Who?” Jason jokes. “Definitely moping,” he confirms, “but still pretty.”
You laugh, then take his hand and walk inside, sitting beside your boyfriend and laughing with his family. It isn’t always like this, so you have to savor it while it’s happening.
“I’m gonna kill him,” Jason seethes, staring at his phone. “Who does Bruce think he is?”
“Billionaire and father,” you answer, leaning toward the mirror to fix your lip gloss.
“If I want to leave early, I’m going to leave,” Jason says. “What’s the point of threatening us?”
“Keeping up appearances, probably.”
Jason sighs, wandering into the bathroom and watching you in the mirror. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”
You nod, smiling when Jason tips his head to look at your outfit. The stress of the last gala is forgotten when Jason offers his arm.
“Good evening. My name is Arabella.”
“Yeah, we’ve met,” Dick replies, shaking her hand quickly.
“Right, right,” she giggles, smiling too perfectly. “I didn’t think you’d remember. You meet so many amazing people.”
Dick nods, glancing across the table to shoot Tim a tired look. You shift beside Jason, trying not to focus on Arabella but unable to ignore how perfect she looks, like she climbed out of a magazine, still glossy from the page. Your boyfriend watched you get ready, claiming he was mesmerized by you, but there’s still an underlying sense of insecurity in the jealousy tightening your chest.
“Yes, I met several of you at the last gala,” Arabella remembers. “It’s nice to see you all again. I wasn’t expecting Gotham to have such exciting events so often.”
“Oh, well if Bruce can find an excuse to spend money,” Duke jokes.
You reach toward your hair, fidgeting in your discomfort. Jason notices your movement and takes your other hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles as he watches your profile.
“I don’t think we met,” Arabella continues. “You’re Tim and Jason, right?”
Mr. Drake to you, you think. And they’re all off-limits.
“Yeah,” Tim answers flatly.
“I heard you got Lilly Waterson a job in a tv commercial,” she gushes. “That’s so impressive, Tim.”
He shrugs, mumbling, “I just made a few calls.”
“Well, she was very lucky to have someone like you in her corner. I’m hoping to build a support system like that here in Gotham.”
Jason tugs your fingers, so you turn and look at him. He doesn’t smile, doesn’t speak, but everything he wants to say is perfectly clear in his eyes, already locked on you. You nod to tell him you’re okay, squeezing his hand as you smile. You look at Dick, who is squinting like he’s fighting off a headache as Arabella continues talking.
Jason shifts, turning his body toward you as he reluctantly looks away from you. He shares a look with Tim, and then someone walks onto the stage and the room silences.
Except for Arabella, who keeps talking. “What about you, Jason?” she asks. “What do you do?”
Whatever I want, you think but don’t say. It’s your first experience with jealousy like this, and you hate it. Telling Jason would be the smart thing to do, but admitting that you feel like this is terrifying, too.
Arabella is invited to the stage, and Dick is the first to leave the table. The rest of his brothers follow close behind. Jason pulls you with them, none of them caring about Bruce's wrath as they sneak out, moving tiredly after less than ten minutes with Arabella Carnegie.
It isn’t a conscious decision to cling to Jason when you return home after the gala, but he’s warm and loving and all yours. Wearing one of his shirts over your favorite pajama bottoms, you tuck yourself under his arm and press your ear over his heart.
“Bruce called Dick and asked where we all went. Apparently the first thing that popped into birdbrain’s head was that Damian threw up on all of us,” Jason tells you, twisting the collar of your shirt around his fingers. “So, if you could back us up, that would be great.”
“Of course,” you answer, smiling. “Where is Damian? I didn’t even see him.”
“He was beside Dick the whole time, went home with him.”
You nod, shifting closer to Jason. He relaxes beneath you, and the movie on the television is quickly forgotten. Jason wants to ask why you’ve been so much more affectionate recently, but then he risks losing it. Whatever changed, he doesn’t mind the outcome, he thinks. After years of being scared of touch, and people being scared to touch him, Jason elects to relish in it rather than question it, wrapping his arms around you and kissing you softly.
“You look like Gar,” Dick muses, tapping his elbow against your back.
“Excuse me?” you question, snapping out of your reverie to turn toward him.
“You’re practically green.”
Your jaw tightens as you shake your head and look away again. Arabella has found a new ‘target’ – Tim’s words, not yours. She is currently standing between Jason and Bruce, leaning a little too far toward your boyfriend.
“Tim,” you say carefully.
“Wrong brother,” Dick jokes.
“No.” Turning toward Dick, you curl your hands into fists and say, “I need you to find me Tim.”
Dick steps back as his eyes widen comically. He nods, then disappears. Less than a minute later, he returns, pulling Tim behind him.
“You said Carnegie’s dad was old money rich,” you remember.
“He is,” Tim agrees.
“Has the family made any donations to the charities she claims to support?”
“No.”
“So – hypothetically – if something were to scare her out of Gotham, we wouldn’t know the difference?”
“I for one,” Dick interrupts, “support your decision.”
Tim smiles, pulling a flask of coffee from his pocket. “How can we help?”
Duke lures Bruce away from the table – He’s the least suspicious; Bruce won’t question it, Tim had explained while you created the plan – and then you allow Dick to escort you to Jason’s side.
“Good evening,” Dick greets.
“Hi!” Arabella greets, her arm inches from Jason’s side.
Yet, he only sees you. He looks at your hand on Dick’s arm, then your face, torn between confusion and amusement.
“Have you ladies met?” Dick asks, gesturing between you and Arabella.
“I don’t think so,” she sighs. She reaches past Jason’s chest, invading his space easily as she says, “I’m Arabella.”
You introduce yourself and shake her hand, then wipe your palm on your dress. Jason’s jaw twitches as he observes your movements.
“You’re not a model,” she muses. “I haven’t seen you at any shoots.”
“No, I’m not a model,” you agree.
“How do you get invited to these events then?”
You glance at Dick, undecided whether she’s asking innocently or making a dig at you.
“Oh!” she exclaims. “Is your boyfriend someone really important?”
“You could say that,” you answer.
Jason shakes his head, and then Dick releases your arm and pulls Jason away. Arabella watches them go, longing in her eyes.
“Arabella,” you begin, “can I ask a weird question?”
“Sure,” she answers, still watching Jason’s back.
“Is there really a list of rules for Gotham models?”
She laughs, tipping her head and sending her sleek, shiny hair cascading down her back. “Yes, but it’s all just a silly joke.”
“Except for the Waynes, right?”
Arabella sobers, but is still smiling when she leans forward and says, “A secret? I’m going to get myself a Wayne boy.”
“Oh?”
Your fists clench beneath the table, and you have to walk away when she adds, “I’m thinking the strong, protective one: Jason.”
Tim follows you up the stairs to ask, “How’d it go?”
“Does Bruce’s no killing rule apply to future in-laws?” you question.
Tim hesitates, then yells, “Dick!”
Jason is perfectly oblivious; you realize after he finds you hiding in his childhood room. He pulls you into his arms, kisses you easily, and cracks a joke about the bookshelf behind you. Despite how obvious you thought your feelings were, Jason hasn’t realized that you’re jealous. Worse, you’re jealous of a model who has no chance with Jason because he’s wholly committed to you.
“Gala season is almost over,” he says against your temple, his arms wrapped around you.
“Don’t sound so excited,” you tease.
“Right, because having our nights back to ourselves is awful.”
“Back to ourselves is generous. You’ll still go on patrol.”
“Of my own volition,” Jason corrects.
“No more overpriced outfits,” you add.
He hums, then admits, “Some things will be missed.”
You roll your eyes and turn in Jason’s hold, pressing a kiss to his forehead before he tugs you down in his lap, kissing you the way you deserve to be kissed.
“Jason,” Arabella purrs, laying her hand on his forearm, where his arms are crossed over his chest.
His eyes drop quickly, her unwelcome touch the only thing drawing his attention from you. You’re dancing with Damian, laughing, beautiful, and happy.
“We should go on a date,” she adds.
Jason steps back, his brows lifting when her hand slips from his arm. “No,” he replies.
“What?” she whispers, stepping toward him. “Why?”
“Why?” Jason repeats incredulously. “I’ve said fifteen words to you since we met. Wickham said more to Lydia before she decided she loved him!”
“I- I don’t know what that means,” Arabella admits. “Why won’t you go out with me?”
“You don’t get an explanation,” Jason answers, “no should be sufficient.”
Arabella steps forward again, reaching for Jason as she pouts. “But we’d be so good together, everyone can see it.”
“Thelma,” Jason snaps, “I said no.”
Arabella’s eyes drop at his use of her real name, but then she straightens her shoulders and smiles. Your dance with Damian has ended, Jason notices, and you’re bringing him back to the table. Damian’s hand clutches yours tightly, his eyes on the floor as you answer for him, turning down dances with Bruce’s biggest donors. When you exit the crowd, you look up with a relieved smile. When you see Jason and Arabella, your smile falls, your lips in a flat, grim line.
“You want a reason?” Jason asks as you approach. “Here’s your reason.”
He grabs your waist and pulls you against his chest, kissing you without a care that an entire ballroom of people is watching. His arm circles your waist as Arabella rushes away, and you hum against him before he pulls back.
“That’s all it took?” Tim whispers to Dick on the other side of the room.
“Took him long enough,” Dick grumbles.
“I’m sorry,” Jason says on the balcony. His hands are warm as they wander your waist and hips, his forehead dropped against yours.
“For what?” you question softly.
“I shouldn’t have just kissed you like that, not in front of everybody. I… I guess I got jealous? I don’t know came over me.”
At the word jealous, you laugh, then press your lips together.
“What?” Jason asks, straightening to see you better.
You shake your head and reach up to brush his hair off his forehead.
“What?” he repeats, squeezing your waist.
“I’ve been jealous since the first time Arabella walked up to you,” you confess. “It’s why I wanted to leave early or stayed right beside you all night. I know you’d never do anything, but the way she looked at you, her obsession with getting with you, it bothered me.”
“Obsession?”
You sigh, then tell him about your plan at the last gala. What you, Tim, and Dick thought would scare her away from Jason actually made you uncomfortable, because she attempted to stake a claim in something that was already yours.
“You do know, right?” Jason checks. “That I’d never-“
“I know,” you promise.
“You get cuddly when you’re jealous,” Jason muses. “Maybe galas aren’t all bad.”
You groan as he laughs, slumping against his chest. “Just ask for cuddles, Mr. big bad Red Hood.”
“Just tell me when you want to makeout in front of a crowd.”
The second groan trails off into a laugh when Jason lifts you off the ground, smiling against your cheek before he kisses you again.
“Thank you for understanding me,” Jason murmurs.
“You’re welcome,” you reply. “You’re as close to Mr. Darcy as I could get, so…”
Jason laughs, tightening his arm around your shoulders. “Oh, I love you.”
Bonus:
“My sincerest apologies, Mr. Luthor,” Tim says over the phone, tapping on his Wayne Enterprises desk. “I didn’t mean to poach your new assistant. I do hope Thelma will suit your needs – she was our top pick prior to hiring your former employee.”
“She’s gone?” Jason asks when the call ends.
“You thoroughly disillusioned her with Gotham,” Tim affirms.
“How’s our future sister-in-law?” Dick asks.
Bruce barges into the office and drops a newspaper on the desk. He points to the picture of you and Jason at the gala. “I hope it was worth it, boys. You’re officially off the guest list for the rest of this year’s galas.”
“That’s all it took?” Dick, Tim, and Jason exclaim.
summary: Bruce has a tendency to stay up too late working, making his pregnant wife come all the way downstairs to convince him to join her in bed
warnings: sexual innuendos obvi, mentions of scars from whipping, pregnancy symptoms, self-deprecatory thoughts and beliefs, not proofread 😁
Bruce knew he should be in bed.
As soon as he was finished writing up the report from patrol, he should have removed his cowl and costume, turned off his monitors, climbed up the bat-cave steps, and curled up beside you in your Egyptian silk sheets. He could only imagine the heat of your skin against his; the way your body throws itself over his subconsciously.
Yes. He should really be in bed.
But he couldn't drag himself away from work. Not when he had a lead on Dagget's newest offense. If he was lucky, he could trace the fingerprints he'd found left behind on a window-pane, and be one step closer to revealing the truth behind this investigation. Just one more hour...
The elevator shaft behind him began reeling; signaling the arrival of a guest.
You.
Bruce's eyes shifted to the time and he mentally kicked himself. It was past midnight. He mentally kicked himself for the being the cause of another sleepless night for you.
The elevator doors slid open nearly silently and he listened to the soft padding of feet on the cave's floor. Your feet were most likely swelling, again.
"Head back to bed, sweet girl, and I'll join you soon." He murmured, eyes fixed on the analyzing data in front of him.
A hand slid up his bicep to his broad shoulder, thumb massaging the tense muscle there. Bruce groaned.
"Can't sleep without you, Brucey."
It didn't take any effort to peel his gaze from the computer to you.
Bruce hadn't believed in angels until he met you. From the first moment he saw you in that coffee shop, he hadn't been able to think of anything else. And now, with his ring on your finger and the swell of your silk encased stomach from his child, Bruce knew heaven existed. And it was wherever his wife was.
Bruce reached out for you. "Keep me company a while?"
Without further encouragement, you straddled his lap--with some awkwardness thanks to your growing midsection--and laced your fingers behind his neck. You smelled like lavender and vanilla and felt like home.
You pressed your lips to his in reunion. "Missed you."
His fingers dug into the softness of your hips, tongue tracing the seam of your lips. "What did my sweet girl do today?"
"I went to Jason's place with Tim to drop off the rest of his books and then to lunch. Afterwards I took a nap and Alfred was kind enough to wake me up with cookies--and, no, the baby didn't save you any."
"The baby?" he withdrew slightly to take in the tired, mischievous gleam in your eyes. "It would seem the baby has been slighting their father for quite some time now. First with stealing all the blankets and pillows and now with cookies?"
"They're sneaky, like you."
"Apparently, everything's my fault."
"Well," your finger spun the hair at the nape of his neck idly, "when you cheat on your wife with work in the middle of the night, you're automatically blamed."
Bruce trailed kisses along your neck, an apology for keeping you waiting. "You know how I am-"
"Work obsessed and tireless." You shouldered a lock of hair back to give Bruce more skin to work with as you scolded him. He hummed against your pulse, the noise repentant. "I only wish I had as much energy as you. These days, it feels like I wake up and am instantly exhausted."
Before finding out you were pregnant, you had been a dynamo; flitting from one project to another. It wasn't until your second trimester that you began switching luncheons for naps and family nights for early retirement. Bruce and the boys had been extra careful to attend and provide for your wants and needs, from stocking up the ingredients for your cravings to keeping an anti-acid in all of their wallets for your chronic heartburn.
Bruce knew you missed your previous lifestyle, something he had come to guilt himself for cutting short, but you knew him better than anyone else and that meant you were able to smother his fears and regret with reassurances. There was nothing more important you could be doing than growing a piece of him and you, you took as your newest mantra whenever you found him stuck in his own head.
You had been his savior in many ways but he always found himself in awe at the thought that you wanted to build a future, a life, with him. You loved his Robins as your own, treated Alfred as an old friend, and--most importantly--showed up for Bruce in his darkest moments.
"Don't tell me you're still thinking about work."
Your soothing voice brought him back from his thoughts.
He looked up at you, mad at himself for bringing that melancholy frown to your lips. Before you, he might have brushed off your worry and ordered you back to bed to leave him be but you had taught him better.
His palms spanned across your abdomen, scarred fingers kneading the firm skin there. The nightgown you wore tonight fit you like a glove, showcasing every proud curve and giving Bruce the pleasure of seeing what was his.
"I was thinking," he pulled you to him until your fronts were flush as much as they could be, "that you're too good for me."
As he expected, your eyes rolled heavenward in exasperation. "Should I tattoo it over your heart, Bruce Thomas Wayne? I. Love. You."
"And I love you-"
Your finger pinned his lips closed as you glared at him. "I love you and I don't want you saying things like that anymore. If I hear another self-deprecating word from this mouth, I will revoke privileges."
His brow rose in curiosity.
"I will reinstate the pregnancy pillow." You decided.
That had Bruce's eyes widening. He spoke around your finger, "Don't be so hasty, baby!"
"Then stop it." You snapped.
Any other person would have seen the wrath of the Dark Knight if they'd dared speak to him like that. Found themselves dangling from the cave ceiling or knocked on their ass. But he just looked at you with desire. The same thing that had Damian grumbling under his breath at dinner or Dick teasing about a houseful of little Wayne's.
He couldn't stop himself as he kissed you, easily man-handling your body to meld to his preferences.
As he suspected, your limbs went lax as you returned his affection, a moan building in your throat when his hand cupped your throat, moving your head this way and that in guidance.
You might be able to yell at and scold him but Bruce always took back control.
Your fingertips glided over his naked back, feeling the raised scars there from his time as an apprentice of Ra's Al Ghul. Every scar he had, you had kissed dozens of times. He never felt ashamed to bare himself in front of you the way he did when he laid with his past dates. You made him feel whole despite all of his loss and grief.
"You're not bringing that damned pillow back." He growled against your mouth, hips shifting beneath you to support his decision.
You gasped, sensitive from pregnancy.
"Tell me you won't bring it back." He ordered, hips raising again.
"I-I won't!"
He smiled darkly, fingers playing with the hem of your nightgown to push it further up your smooth thighs. You had made him shave your legs this morning as you couldn't reach them without a struggle.
"You wouldn't even be able to find it. I burned it to embers the first night you insulted me with it."
You chuckled breathily. "Good thing I have my billionaire husband's credit card at my disposal. I can buy the entire company and then some."
Bruce nipped at your collarbone. "I hope you weren't planning on getting any rest tonight. Our bed won't be used for sleeping after your impertinence."
"I didn't tell you why I wanted you to come to bed."
author's note: i can feel the words flowing from me 🌊 call me aquaman
a schoolyard crush turns into something monumental when wally realises that his best friend also has eyes for you.
includes. . . wally west x fem!reader, (SLIGHT!) dick grayson x fem!reader. characterised after the young justice universe. vigilante!reader, fluff, angst, tension & slightly suggestive at the end, lots of teenage/early 20s emotions running amok here.
word count. . . 8.8k
notes. . . wally is literally so precious to me i don’t even know where to begin!!! i’ve made reader to be widow-like. oh, and wally stays alive. . . for now! JK,,, unless???? (no seriously, i’m kidding, i’m still traumatised from his death in the show). hope you guys like this!!
Summer had hit you all like a storm.
The team had split up, the tower much more quieter than normal. Most of them either were back home with their civilian lives, or off world. Those still in the tower had found themselves lounging around, the common room filled with popcorn and snacks, and a very intense game of Monopoly (that had just ended), lounging around in a rare day of peace and freedom from their vigilante lives.
“Hey, Walls,” you called out, catching the attention of the speedster who’d been hovering around the kitchen. He stood to attention, coming towards where you’d asked for him, standing at the countertop. “Help me with the drinks?”
“Anything you want, beautiful,” he flashed you a smile, leaning heavily over you as you manoeuvred a bunch of cups into his hand, while you held two tall pitchers of ice tea. He took in your outfit, dressed in shorts and a tank top, your hair pushed away from your face to combat the heat.
You looked over your shoulder, bright smile on your face. “Coming?”
Snapping out of his daze, Wally sped up to join you, setting down the cups next to the pitchers and sliding into the seat next to you.
Before he could open his mouth, possibly shove his foot in there by letting out another flirtatious comment, you speak up.
“Hello, handsome.”
Wally blinks, once, slow. Did he hear you correctly? Was he finally out of—
“Hi there, gorgeous.”
Dick.
Of fucking course it was Dick Grayson. The boy had sidled himself next to you, leaning into your personal space, and worst of all, you’re letting him. Wally looked up, you were preening under the charming smile the raven haired boy had put on. Preening, and Dick had his chest puffed out like a fucking peacock, thanking you for taking care of the team.
“You’re so nice to me.”
Wally knew that voice, the fucking low and gravelly tone swaying any girl into one Dick Grayson’s arms. The very arms that were way too close to you while in nothing but a wifebeater, muscles fully on display. The ginger huffed.
“Of course, can’t have you fainting on me from the heat,” you patted Dick’s thigh heavily, and Wally swears if he could switch powers he’d steal Superman’s heat-vision eyes—or as Wally would prefer to put it: laser-beams-that-melt-off-hands eyes—the moment Dick placed his hand over yours.
He busied himself with pouring a glass of ice tea, all but shoving it in front of you. “Didn’t you say you were thirsty earlier, babe?”
You frowned, confused, but gratefully accepted the drink he was holding out. It was hot outside. You opened your mouth to speak and Wally was waiting for. . . something, maybe pretty boy at least if not handsome (clearly, that was reserved for Richard).
“Thanks, Walls.”
“Of course, beautiful, anytime.”
You grinned, once again turning to Dick who was telling you some story, hands waving animatedly as he stole every bit of your attention.
Walls.
Wally swore he could feel the ground swallowing him whole as you laughed loudly at the story he’d heard a million times before. Fucking Alfred and his infamous cookies that made everyone act like animals. Fuck Dick too while you’re at it, he grumbled under his breath, slumping into the couch.
.
Okay, so maybe he was overreacting.
You have always been flirty and Dick hasn’t been nothing if not a very willing recipient (and active participant) of someone beautiful hitting on him. Hell, Wally was sure Dick would flirt with anything breathing if they were actually interested. Which, looking at the Wayne heir, anyone would be. But did it have to be you?
Sighing, Wally moved through the tower in a breeze, reaching the training room in record time where you were going to spar with him, like always. “Sweetheart, sorry I’m late, was running low on fuel.”
“It’s alright, Walls,” you chuckled, wiping the chalk dust from your palms, the one that Dick used when he was doing his bendy gymnastics stuff. Since when had you decided to pick it up? Were you making a career switch to an acrobat?
“So, you er, you’re doing. . . gymnastics?”
Your lips pursed at the way his voice squeaked out at the end, confused before nodding softly. “Yeah, Dick’s been teaching me some stuff.”
Cool, just two teammates helping each other out. You were the best at hand to hand combat on the team, so maybe you just wanted to find someone new to learn something from, and apparently that someone is not Wally.
“You guys hang out now?”
“Uh, yeah? Figured I’d learn something new.” You chuckled, the two of you now circling around the mat. You crouched low, eyes locked on Wally in a smile so sinisterly cocky the speedster could feel his mind going fuzzy. God, you looked good.
Before Wally could even open his mouth, you’d pounced. The young speedster barely noticed you before zooming to the other side of the mat. You raised a brow and he smiled, sheepish, apologetic. Right, no powers.
Taking a deep breath, Wally blocked the hit you were aiming at his neck, forearm pushing you off, and then suddenly he can smell you, the scent deep and warm before he had his arm twisted behind his back.
“Stop zoning out Walls,” your voice was hot on the back of his neck. He could feel his face heating up, the red creeping around his freckled face up to the tips of his ears. You let go of him as he leaned his weight into your hold to signal for him to be let loose.
“Getting distracted—“
“—gets you killed.”
You smiled at Wally when he completed your statement. Gesturing, you took your position on the other side of the mat, Wally copying you.
This time, Wally went first. Instead of aiming high like you’d done, the speedster goes low, head tucked into his chin as he grabs you by the waist, using the momentum to swing the two of you on the ground. You let out a soft sound at the impact, but it sounded more like you were amused. When he looked up, he saw the taunting look in your eye, a lazy, smug look tugging at the corners of your mouth. Without even huffing at the effort, you pushed your hips up into his, making him lose balance as you flipped the two of you over, hands now pinning him down, arm stretched across his chest as you held him down on to the mat.
“Nice one,” you grinned, blowing your hair away from your face. You leaned in closer, chest pressed against his, and Wally could swear his heartbeat was the loudest soundtrack he could ever hear. “You almost got me there.”
“Next time,” he rasped out, puffing out a breath of air, hoping it didn’t smell of the Cheetos he’d eaten before training. The movement made the stubborn strand in front of your eyes sway. You smiled, a genuine one, and somehow his heartbeat just rang louder. “I’ll get you next time.”
“I’m counting on it.”
And then you got off of him, holding out your hand for him to stand up. Sucking in a lungful of air, Wally took it, pulled up to stand close enough where he could see every shade of colour in your eyes. They were endless pools of warmth he could fall into forever, and they were looking at him. Right at him. “Walls?”
Clearing his throat, the speedster stepped back, letting go of your hand to ruffle the hair at the top of his head. “Shall we go again?”
“You sure? You seem distracted today.”
“I’m fine, just don’t think my pre-sparring snack was the best one I’ve had.”
You laughed, the sound bright as you got back to the mat. Wally followed suit, the two of you once again circling each other. “Ready?”
You had that smile again, the low, dangerous look in your eyes, the one he saw out on the field. The one Dick held in his smile after he’d seen how it unnerved your opponents. Fucking Dick and his ability to charm everyone. Wally struck out, his body moving before he could catch up, hand coming straight for your face, and before he could even think about how foolishly impulsive the move was, he was face down on the mat, your knee pinning him down as you bent his arm back, not enough to hurt, but just enough to where he could feel a strain.
“Are you sure you’re alright?”
You’d let him go, pulling him to stand at his full height as you grabbed a water bottle, tossing it to the speedster, the shocking pink a contrast against the muted green of his tank. “Yeah I’m fine. Just. . . lost in thought I guess.”
“Penny for them?” you asked, now sitting next to him on the floor. Wally shrugged, handing you the bottle when you held your hand out for it, eyes watching your mouth as it used the sucker on the bottle (where Wally had his mouth moments before), tracing down the column of your throat as you drank greedily.
“I’m good.”
“Promise?” You held out your pinky, Wally smiling as he linked his to yours, the two of you kissing each of your hands as if to seal the pact.
“Promise,” he murmured, mouth hidden by his hand, but he could see you smile behind yours as you murmured a ‘good’ against it.
You pressed your lips one last time to your linked hands for good measure, letting the speedster copy you before the two of you sat up, hands still linked in the silence of the training room, catching your breaths.
God, you had no idea what you did to him.
.
Dick caught up with you as you left the training room, having just walked out of the showers attached next to it, the one Wally had gone into not too long ago. The former Batman sidekick had a towel slung low across his waist, water not yet fully wiped off of him. He smiled as he noticed you.
“Hi, beautiful.”
You grinned, standing up from where you’d been cleaning up after the sparring session between you and Wally. “Hey there, pretty boy. Took a long time in the showers I see.”
Dick fell in step with you, walking out of the training room as you slung a wet towel across your shoulders, water bottle in hand. “Well maybe I was waiting on you.”
“Is that so?” you looked up at him, brow raised. Dick just shrugged, eyes glinting with mischief. His lips were pulled into a cocky smile, tongue peeking out to wet his lower lips.
“Yeah.”
You hummed. “Is that why you’re following me around in just a towel?”
Dick blinked, slowing to a halt outside the door of your room. You watched his skin flush a deep rouge, the heat spreading across his chest and up his cheeks. “I uh, I’ll see you later, sweetheart.”
“Yeah, alright,” you laughed, watching as he stepped back a couple steps before spinning on his feet and heading a couple steps down towards his room. His hand rubbed at the back of his neck as he reached the door, turning around once to wink at you—despite the colour in his face, before shutting the door.
“Aren’t you something,” you murmured, eyes still on the spot he left.
“Who’re you talking to, weirdo?”
You jumped, startled as you stood up straight, leaning away from the doorframe. Wally was standing next to you, now smelling fresh and clean from his shower. “Nobody. Hey, you wanna watch a movie? I’ve got the new Fast and Furious.”
Wally nodded, eyes glancing once more at the door next to yours—where Dick stayed when he was at the Titans Tower—before following you into your door, the lock clicking softly as it shut behind him.
.
Wally swore Dick was everywhere.
The stupid bird themed superhero seemed to spawn around you whenever the speedster wanted to hang out, and he was seconds away from transporting his best friend to the South Pole to live with the penguins (not you, of course, he knew you hated the cold— the ex-sidekick to Gotham’s very own Batman, however. . . ).
The beach was empty as you guys had set up a blanket on the sand, the grains warm but soothing as you dug your toes under the piles. The team had decided to have a little sunset campfire and sing-a-long at the beach, simply to celebrate the hard work of a successful week of leading double lives (in yours, Dick’s and Wally’s cases), and also for being really good at your side job of beating up bad guys.
“I’ve got the drinks,” Roy cheered, plopping down with a six pack, and some other sodas and assortments of both alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages that were sloshing around in the portable cooler in his hand. “Here.”
He tossed a chill bottle of beer he’d pulled out of it, and Wally caught it. You grinned as Roy passed one to you as well, much nicer in his handling. “Thanks, speedy.”
“Don’t call me that.”
Roy narrowed his eyes playfully at you as Wally and you laughed next to each other. You giggled, leaning into your best friend as you moved the bottle to your mouth, digging your teeth under the metallic cap, and with a slight pressure, you heard the pop and fizz of it coming off.
You looked up, catching the ginger boy watching your every move, eyes tracking your mouth as if he’d zeroed in on something that deserved his attention. You.
You licked your lips, trying to calm the sudden dryness in your throat. Wally’s eyes seemed to darken even more, the flames dancing in them tantalisingly as he copied you. You could hear your heart beating irratically.
“Sweetheart, I need your help.”
Blinking, you turned to look at Dick, mind sluggish as it tried to clear from the haze you had found yourself in. Sitting close enough to the two of you that you could feel his warmth, Dick was holding out his own bottle of beer, making you roll your eyes.
“If you wanted me to watch me use my mouth for you, you could’ve just said so,” you repeated your actions, the pop! of the metal cap opening making Dick grin as he watched you.
“But that’s exactly what I’m doing.”
Wally cleared his throat, watching the two of you lean into each other, teasing smiles and eyes burning with a sort of emotion he’d never seen in you. Were you actually falling for Dick Grayson?
“I’m thinking of starting on the s’mores,” he gestured next to you guys where Kori, Donna and Roy had set up the fire, the flames curling in reckless abandon. The three of them had settled into the sand. You smiled, squeezing his hand as you grabbed it.
“We’ll come with.”
The three of you moved towards your friends, and as you sat down next to Donna, the two of you trying to tell Kori about some new music the two of you were obsessed with currently, he wondered when did you and Dick Grayson become a ‘we’. And why was he so bothered that he wasn’t a ‘we’ to you?
.
It was official.
Dick Grayson was at the top of his hit list.
Wally swore that he could find him everywhere, even in places where he didn’t think possible: like his fucking university campus.
“And then he was telling me how Tim changed every one of Bruce’s codes to. . .”
The two of you were walking through the hallways, and ever since summer, all you’d been gabbing to him was about your new best friend Richard Grayson. The first day back to school and apparently Dick had called you in the night to talk. Yeah, right, Wally thought to himself, everyone has a conversation at 11 in the night.
He caught himself before he could roll his eyes.
“Walls?” You were snapping your fingers in front of his face. When he jolted, you frowned, curious as to what was happening. “Dude, you alright? You went AWOL on me there.”
Wally coughed, nodding. “Yeah I’m fine, long night.”
“Really? With whom?”
You sounded off, somehow not as cheery as you did just moment’s prior when you told him about how Tim had hacked into the programming in the Batcave to play a prank of the Batman. Wally tilted his head towards you as you stopped swinging your joined arms, no longer moving him around while you rambled.
What was it about Dick that had you so drawn to him?
“Nothing, just couldn’t get sleep.”
You frowned, squeezing his hand. During the academic year, Wally would end up walking around with the worst dark circles known to man, all because of his tendency to not get any sleep at night, especially since the two of you didn’t go on patrol as often during the school year. You suspected it had something to do with his powers, his inability to actually stay still and his energy that’s always contagious, always overflowing with so much life that you can’t help but be drawn towards him. But this was early, even for Wally. Usually, it’d take at least a week for him to start complaining about it, and then showing up at your window in the night.
“You want to come over tonight?” You squeezed his hand again, smiling softly in a way that had Wally’s heart thump-thump-thumping hard against his chest.
“What about Dick?”
“What about him?”
The earnest confusion in your voice made him look at you, eyes searching your face. Your brows were furrowed and lips were pursed in an adorable pout that Wally could almost dream of pressing his mouth again and devouring, but what stood out most to him was one simple thing: you weren’t thinking about Dick.
“I just— nothing,” Wally rubbed the back of his neck, lips pulling into a smile when you squeezed his hand (that was still holding yours), “what time should I be there?”
“Come over right after patrol, I’ve got your sweats washed. Couldn’t get that stain out though.”
“It’s fine.”
Wally laughed, letting you drag him around to your next class before the bell rang (he had a free period in his schedule). You hated being late.
.
By the time the two of you fell onto the floor through your open bedroom window, Wally was spent. He’d starfished across the soft carpet, still in his Kid Flash costume, and you’d fallen right on top of him with an undignified oomph!
“Move your fat ass out of the way, Walls,” you poked him in his side where you knew he was ticklish, making him jerk at the sudden movement, as you got up.
“I’m good,” his voice was once again muffled, face down in the carpet, “I’ll just stay here.”
You laughed, pulling yourself up as Wally turned over to look at your grinning face staring down at him. “Do you plan on making yourself comfortable there or shall I keep space in bed for you?”
Wally could feel his heart in his throat as he nodded towards your bed. Swallowing harshly, he cleared his throat. “I can’t pass on that beauty.”
Chuckling, you headed towards the bathroom, calling out over your shoulder as you grabbed the door handle.
“Clothes are in the drawer and mom got extra snacks if you’re hungry. Just change first!”
And then Wally heard the lock click shut, the sound of the shower running beyond the wooden door. Sighing, he stood up, gravitating towards your closet to grab some spare clothes he could change into after a shower and setting them aside, somewhat of a proud smile on his face. At least Dick didn’t have an entire section in your closet for his clothes.
By the time you’d come back from your shower, Wally had sprawled himself once again on your fuzzy carpet, now filled with half the snacks in your pantry and a couple of cookies your father had baked earlier in the night.
“Hey, brought up some cookies, your parents have gone to bed.”
You grinned, bee-lining to the nightstand where Wally had left your treasure, while the redhead moved towards the shower. “What would I do without you, Wally?”
“Be boring and lonely— ow!”
Wally glared at you, trying hardest to be mad as he rubbed the spot where you’d punched him for his comment but he could feel his mouth fighting against him at your cheeky smile. Your eyes were shining with mischief and warmth and Wally couldn’t help but mirror your grin as you fell onto your mattress. “Save one for me.”
“You already ate so many!”
You looked up at him with bright eyes, and Wally could feel his heart soaring at how open and vulnerable you seemed. You were still smiling, even as he flicked you on the forehead before moving swiftly aside to dodge your counterattack.
“Yeah well, I’m your best friend. It’s in the rules: guests get more food.”
You sat up on your elbows, eyeing the boy who had a impish look on his face. “Please you stopped being a guest since you were six.”
You rolled your eyes as Wally mocked you, finally heading into the shower while you fell back on your bed, cheeks still warm from the smile on your face. That boy had no idea what he did to you.
.
Steam curled out of the bathroom as Wally stepped out, sweatpants loose on his hips and a towel he used to dry his hair. You were on your back now, reading a book as you waited on him.
“Here, saved you the last one.”
“I knew you loved me,” he grinned, snatching it up as you rolled your eyes at him, all fond and warm. You really did love him.
Wally plopped down gracelessly onto the bed next to you, laughing when you whacked him complaining about crumbs (he’d made sure to not let a single one fall, he knew you didn’t like eating in bed) and snuggled into his side of the bed.
You propped yourself up into his eyeline, watching him drink you in like he always did, like he was clawing for air only you could offer. He only hoped it wasn’t as obvious to you. “So, what d’ya wanna do?”
Wally hummed, hand coming back up to brush against the bruise on your cheek, the one that you’d gained earlier in the night during patrol after narrowly missing a fist aimed at your face. You’d managed to grab the hand before it swung into bone, but the brass knuckles that decorated it had left a blooming red score on your cheekbone. “Does it hurt?”
“Not even a little bit,” you murmured, head nuzzling into his palm like you wanted to burrow yourself in it.
Wally could see the way your eye twitched ever so slightly at the point closest to your eye when he brushed the purpling bruise, but other than that, you were still smiling down at him with such warmth he could feel himself sinking into comfort.
You turned your head to kiss his palm once, gently lacing your fingers through his to pry it off your face as you leaned over to press your lips to his cheek, and Wally’s eyes fluttered close at the contact without hesitation.
“Go to sleep, West. You look like a troll I dragged out from under my bed.”
Wally guffawed, eyes wide open as you chortled, falling onto him upon looking at the wide eyed offence on his face, your body wrecked with unabashed laughter as you shook in his grasp. “You think you’re so hilarious, don’t you?”
You nodded against him, the humour bubbling out of you seeping into him at the points where you were connected (his hands on your back, holding you close to where you’d pressed yourself into his chest), his chest rumbling with laughter under you.
“Fine, let’s call it a night, sleeping beauty.”
The two of you tucked yourself under your covers without moving, the little night light you left on your bedside table the only sign of life in the dead of the night as sleep overcame the two of you.
.
The tower was quiet when you stepped inside. You shouldered your way through the door of your bedroom in the building, finally sliding off the wet coat and shoes that had collected the rainwater from the impromptu shower that the heavens had unleashed upon you.
“Oh hey, sweetheart.”
Before you could even catch up on the reason the voice was so familiar, you’d swung around, clipping the man behind you with your wet coat, the metal of the zipper clinking hard against his face.
“Richard Grayson, don’t you know better than to sneak up on people like that.”
You glared at the cheeky smile he sported, still standing comfortably in the middle of your room as you dragged your jacket away from his face and the matching red mark you’d left on the right side of his cheekbone, mirroring the one you had on your left.
“Great you see you too, darling.”
You rolled your eyes, shimmying out of the oversized Central City University sweatshirt, now feeling overly warm in the blooming heat of the building. Your tank top stuck to your skin from the water as you let your hair fall down your back, limp and wet, droplets tracing rivulets down your spine.
“Did you need something?”
“You wound me,” the raven haired boy grabbed his chest as if you’d physically hurt him, even stumbling back to sell his theatrical pain. You shook your head at him, rainwater clinging onto his face from the close proximity as he chuckled. “I just came to check on you cause of the rain.”
“Well, sorry to disappoint but I didn’t drown.”
“Can’t have my girl drowning on me,” he grinned, pulling you into his side to warm you up, and you gratefully leaned towards the heat of his (entirely too expensive) wool jumper, wet head of hair tucked into his chin as you placed your cold hands on the back of his neck, making him yelp. “Get away from me you heathen!”
“I thought I was your girl?” you mocked him, head tilted to one side as he kept you close enough to warm your hands against his. It was no secret you hated the cold.
“Yeah you are, sweetheart.”
“Am I interrupting?”
You jumped away from Dick as if you’d been burned, the warmth of his body turning ice rigid in your veins as Wally stood at your open door, looking in at the two of you. You cleared your throat as Dick, ever the one to be able to bring in levity in pungent silence, spoke up.
“Not at all, she’s all yours.”
And then, squeezing your hands one last time (that had gone limp in his reach the moment his best friend had walked in), Dick glanced at you one last time, impish smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he moved to leave the room, patting Wally on the back while he did.
Wally watched as you glared at the broad shoulders that disappeared from the doorframe, before taking in your appearance. You shuffled, suddenly aware of not just how unkempt your hair was, but the fact that you’d been standing in front of Dick and now Wally, in a shirt thin enough to see your bra through. If only you’d had the foresight to wear a nicer one, maybe this wouldn’t be half as awkward.
“I erm. . . I got caught in the rain,” you supplied helplessly, tugging at the end of your cotton tank top, spinning around as you went to the drawer to grab dry clothes.
“I can see that.”
Wally still sounded far away: when you glanced over your shoulder after finding a dry shirt, you found him still standing in the doorway, his stance stilted and wound tight like he couldn’t decide whether he should enter or not.
”You’ve seen me in my bra before, just get in already,” you chuckled, waving him in, only noticing him hesitate for a second before nodding, following your instructions and shutting the door behind him. “Your group project finally got situated?”
Wally had stayed back at Central City University for some project he had for his Physics 301 class while you’d left earlier, having decided on working at the Tower instead. And lucky for him, he’d managed to get all the luck with the weather because it was finally sunny outside again.
Wally cleared his throat as you pulled your shirt over your head. “So, you and Dick. . .”
“What about Dick and I?”
Pulling your head through the neck hole of a dry shirt, to find him still hovering like he didn’t know how to exist in your space, a place he’d inhabited since the two of you were five and playing in the sandbox. You frowned, watching him glance around like he’d lost the right to be in there without you asking for him first.
“. . . Is everything alright?”
”Yeah, I just. . . I’m happy for Dick and you.”
You blinked, trying to figure out what exactly was happening. Did he seriously think that Dick was the one that had you losing all sense?
”I’m just going to—“ he pointed behind him, and before you could even stop him, he’d phased through the shut door. You rushed after him, trying to find the speedster as you pulled your door open with urgency.
”Wally—“
The hallway was empty.
.
It had always felt like breathing. At least, that’s how Wally thought about it.
Since the first time you’d met, Wally had found himself in tune with you, like a wavelength honing in on a frequency that it needed in order to function. You’d been giggly and had a chip in your front tooth from where you’d hit your face on while jumping off the swing and doing a flip you’d just learned in gymnastics. You’d never even cried about it, the grin of showing off to your new friend still plastered even as the corner of your lip started bleeding and your mother came rushing towards you. You’d simply grabbed Wally’s hand and told him you’d teach him how to do it too.
That was the first time he’d met you, and since then you’d been a stronghold in his life, someone he’d come to know inside out, maybe even better than he’d known himself. You’d been the first person he’d found after getting his powers, after he found out how his uncle was The Flash, the trials that came with having powers, you’d been standing beside him, always with a snack (apples crusted with peanut butter, to make sure he was both eating healthy but also had something to satiate his sweet tooth) and a smile that disarmed every bit of distaste he felt towards himself for not being good enough. You’d been there for the first ever time he’d had his heart broken, a girl he’d seen only a few months in high school, but you’d been there to cheer him up, mend the parts that he never knew could break.
Wally had known it’d only be a matter of time before Dick and you finally got together, it’d be stupid to think otherwise, but god he didn’t realise just how much it would sting being second place to Dick.
He’d learned early on that being Wally West meant being able to learn you and love you, and he’d made his peace with it. You’d were singular in every way and it wasn’t surprising that everyone around you noticed; you tended to do that, draw people into an orbit that made them feel like they were at home, because that’s what you did to him at age five with a toothy grin. He just needed to make peace with the fact that you’d found someone else.
“What’re you doing here?”
Blinking, Wally saw Roy walk up to him, the former Green Arrow sidekick dressed up as if he had somewhere to be.
“Where’re you off to?”
“Had a date,” Roy grinned, patting Wally on the shoulder as he vaulted over the couch, settling into the one that wasn’t occupied by the speedster. “Now why are you sulking? Trouble in paradise?”
Wally’s eyes narrowed. Roy, amongst other things, was a big gossip, especially when around Donna and you, the three of you always knee deep in random news you’d heard (four if K’ori wasn’t off-world). Half of it of course came from the type of vigilantes Roy and you happened to be, but the other half was simply pure curiosity. Wally had never met a man both so brilliant and downright ready to binge an entire season’s worth of reality television.
“What paradise? There’s no paradise.”
Roy simply looked at him, a stray strand of red hair falling over his forehead from his man bun—the only person Wally had seen ever pull off that style so well—and shook his head, a low chuckle emitting from his throat. “Yeah right, I’m not blind dude.”
“I’m being serious.”
“Uh huh, and we’re all just happy go lucky adults with no issues at all,” Roy nodded, and Wally could tell that the archer was taking the piss out of him, but god he couldn’t help it. “Seriously dude, just talk to her.”
“I can’t— I can’t just talk to her!”
“Yes you can, you just open your mouth and form words.”
Wally walloped him with a pillow as Roy laughed at his red face, tossing the decorative piece right back at the speedster, who simply grabbed it and placed it down next to him with more force than required.
“I can’t, she’s going out with Dick now.”
Roy raised a brow, now settled into the couch as he folded his arms across his chest. “Huh, I didn’t see that coming.”
“Tell me about it,” Wally slumped into the cushioning, hands running over his face.
He could feel Roy’s eyes burning into the side of his skull as he stayed hidden behind his fingers, trying to press them into his skull like it would press away the way he needed you into the back of his mind, to be left untouched and forgotten as time would pass by.
“My advice is you talk to her, what’s the worst that could happen?”
And with that, Wally could hear the sound of fading footsteps as Roy headed out towards his room, once again leaving the redhead to stew in his own feelings, the night sky greeting him as he stared out the window, trying to figure out just when he’d found himself so helpless to the way he loved you.
The crickets chirped faintly in the background as the hum of the city started falling asleep.
.
Wally had begun trying to find ways to avoid you. It’d started small, with not being free during the week to study together in the Central City University library like the two of you usually did. He’d been working everyday this week on some or the other assignment, or was hanging out with friends from his classes, who you had met barely in passing to actually know, which meant that you’d spent more time with his parents than him, feeling bad about only showing up on their doorstep to ask about their son. You played poker with his father as you waited, but Wally never returned home, only zooming by you on your interconnected patrol routes. Hell, it’d gotten to the point where you’d not trained together either. No matter what, Wally never missed sparring sessions with you.
You wondered what could’ve possibly happened for him to ignore you. Hooking your penknife into the latch of his window, you jiggled it around, trying to catch the grove that would help you unlock it, and after a few moments, you heard the sound of your success, the click of the mechanic registering as you slid open the window, toppling through gracefully and face first into wooden flooring.
“What are you doing?”
You stood up, brushing yourself off as Wally leaned against the doorway of his bathroom, eyeing you down with confusion. “You were ignoring me all week.”
“So you break into my room?”
”Obviously,” you chuckled, closing the gap between you as you moved into the room. You only stopped when he spoke up again.
”Why?”
Wally looked genuinely surprised, like he hadn’t expected you to fix whatever it was that had gone so wrong that he’d decided forgetting about you was better than talking with you.
You could feel your lips tug into a frown at the idea of never having access to Wally— selfishly, you needed him around, if nothing else then as your best friend. He’d been an extension of you since you’d first met him, trying (and succeeding) at impressing him enough to become your friend in the sandbox. Even at five years old, you could tell he was important, and not because he was the first boy you’d befriended. Wally had a way of making everything around you brighter, like you’d become Midas-touched gold, forever shining as long as he looked at you. He’d brought laughter out of you when your grandfather died; when you’d started crying over Marley and Me and he’d promised he’d find a way to make the dog the two of you got together live forever; when you had first killed a man on the job (an accident, and he was the bad guy, but that didn’t mean it didn’t flash behind your eyelids for over a month) but struggled to wash off the blood until Wally held your shaking hands to do it for you. . .
“Are we okay?”
The question came out quieter than you wanted it to, like punching it out of your lungs expelled all the fear you had about it, into the open where Wally could grab onto it, grab it and do whatever he pleased with the worry you held for him, for the two of you.
Wally shrugged, hands shoved into his sweatpants. He’d moved out of the bathroom now, the door clicking shut softly behind him. “Why wouldn’t we be?”
You swallowed the lump in your throat at the impassive callousness in his voice. Your tongue felt heavy, pinned down as you called out his name. “Wally. . .”
“Baby, ’m fine, you don’t have to worry about me.”
Baby, the word sunk heady into your heart, something you’d wished to hear from him, but not like this. Wally had his arms crossed over his chest, standing next to his bed now as he watched you watch him. You cursed as you could feel your eyes shine with watery tears that were beginning to form. Why did he think you didn’t care about him? All you ever did was worry about ways Wally could live a life that he was proud of, one that he wouldn’t have to hide in the future from whoever he was around (and in the most dangerous dreams you had about it, it was you by his side).
“Why wouldn’t I worry about you?” You scoffed, biting back the tears as you stared at the redhead who was watching you intently. “Do you think I don’t care?”
“No you— you do, I know that. . . but with Dick around now, you’ll—“
“What does Dick have to do with you not talking to me?”
Wally ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the tuff of it where it connected to his neck, feet moving as he began pacing. “Doesn’t everything lately have to do with him? I’m happy for you guys, truly. But I can’t be around you, not while I. . .”
“While you, what?” You asked, watching as Wally went still, eyes bugging wide when you repeated yourself. “While you what, Wallace?”
He winced when you used his actual name, not even Walls or Wally, instead shaking his head as he pointed at his window. “You should go.”
“Not until you tell me what’s going on,” you huffed, now your arms crossed as you stared down the boy you’d loved since the beginning of high school.
Wally sucked in a sharp breath like the idea of telling you the truth caused a physical wound in him, and you desperately needed to know it was something you could fix. Because you couldn’t stand the idea of not having Wally anywhere except next to you: it’s what you’d always known, the only thing you’d been sure of since you were a little girl.
When he opened his mouth, you could feel yourself slipping into that hope that finally you’d gotten through to him. “I’m sorry. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
You could feel the air expunge itself from your lungs as Wally turned to fidget with his bedding. He didn’t even look back as you whispered a goodnight Walls over his windowsill, body halfway out. Swallowing harshly, you balanced on the edge of the roof to the West house before dropping down, crouching low to the ground once you landed on the grass of their backyard.
In the quiet of the night, you walked yourself back to your apartment building (which was closer than the tower), eyes red by the time you found yourself in bed, tucked into the duvet that was still the same pastel green that you and Wally had picked together back when you were just children.
.
“Woah, you alright sweetheart?”
Dick and Donna came into your line of sight, the Wayne heir grinned good naturedly while Donna watched you curiously.
Huffing, you landed another hit on the sandbag, the chain swinging from the impact. Donna caught it as it neared her, “what’s going on?”
”Wally, he’s just. . . God, boys can be so frustrating!”
You punched the bag once again as Donna let it go, the Amazonian stepping aside right as the bag swung off the hook in the ceiling. Dick raised his hands in surrender as if he were the one in the line of fire.
“Do you want me to talk to him?”
You eyed Dick, who was still standing far enough to not get hit, and watching you with concern written into the crease of his brows and the corners of his mouth before shaking your head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, I’ll— I’ll talk to him. . . Besides, I don’t think you’ll get through him this time.”
Dick frowned, but nodded. And you understood why; Wally and Dick had been inseparable when the two of you joined the team back in the day, as children who still had hope and dreams of a world that seemed much nicer than it actually is. Wally had found a brother in Dick, and so did the former Robin, you knew that the idea of Wally not listening to Dick would hurt him, but you didn’t want whatever it was that had Wally hurting because of Dick be an issue, not until you could at least figure it out first.
Donna stepped forward, tying her hair back as she did. “Want to spar for a bit? Take your mind off of that idiot?”
“Sure,” you chuckled, shaking your head. Donna always knew how to make you feel better. If you couldn’t talk it out, you’d get out whatever it was with a fight. She’d been much the same way since she’d joined the team as well. “What would I do without you, my love?”
“Be moping,” Dick called out, now hanging off of one the beams, practicing his flips and tricks from a life he no longer had. You looked up and he was grinning from cheek to cheek. “Your emo teenage angst shit is filling this room.”
You rolled your eyes. “Dickhead.”
“That’s me,” he called, swinging his body through the maze of support beams and other bars that had been installed specifically for him.
You turned to Donna, who was grinning as well. “Well, shall we?”
“Why, of course.”
Donna crouched low, waiting on your move. You took the first step.
.
By the time you’d entered your room, it’d been past midnight. Patrol had been long, even longer when Wally wasn’t there to trade jokes with you, or attempt to guess what exactly you’d end up finding while on your rounds.
You’d barely shut your door, still in your suit as you flopped onto the bed when you could feel the familiar hum of frequency outside your door before a loud knock echoed against it.
“Get inside, Wally.”
“Can you. . . Can you open the door?”
Sighing, you dragged yourself up, pulling open the door to see Wally, still in his yellow and red costume, goggles tucked into his hair and freckles on display as the face piece to his suit was pushed back. The boy shuffled on his feet, as if surprised to see you standing in front of him. “Hi.”
“Can you not phase through shit anymore?” You asked, opening the door wider as he stepped in at your gesture for him to do so, stopping just beyond the threshold. You shut the door softly behind him.
“I’m sorry.”
And without meaning to, laughter spilled out of you, the sound more hollow and mean than Wally had ever heard out of you. “You’re sorry? That’s new. I thought you were too busy ignoring me.”
You strode towards your closet, wanting to change out of the suit that stuck to your skin, the suffocating feeling of having Wally so close to you after two weeks of him trying to erase himself from your life practically felt like you’d lose air the longer you were constricted in it. Wally grabbed your hand before you could move far away.
“I mean it, I was being a dick about well. . . Dick,” he winced, brows scrunching even further when you didn’t laugh even the slightest at the unintentional joke, something you always did. Sucking in a harsh breath, he carried on, “if you’re happy with him, I’ll make my peace with it. I just want my best friend back.”
“If I’m happy with whom, Walls?”
You looked genuinely confused, as if Wally hadn’t been there to see Dick and you fall for each other these past few months.
“Dick.”
“What?”
And to Wally’s surprise, you were laughing. You were bent over the waist, nearly falling into him at the image he’d given you. “What’s so funny?”
“Dick and I— there’s nothing. . . Oh my god, did you think I was going out with Dick?”
You had tears coming out of your eyes as you looked at him, as if the idea of anybody wanting to be with Dick Grayson was absurd. He knew the two of you were perfect together, and would look the part too in Gotham’s socialite papers and photographs.
“Please, Dick has his eye set on a redhead at all times,” you chuckled, wiping at the corner of your eyes, “he’s more likely to go for you.”
And at Wally’s shock, at his mouth that fell open, unable to find words, you’d found yourself laughing again. “Wait, so you and Dick aren’t—“
“We never were,” you shook your head, head tilting as if you’d found something out. Your eyes were swimming with curiosity, a sort of finality he’d only seen in you when you’d cracked a particularly difficult case. He’d seen it when you’d found the answer that had stumped you during your criminology courses, when you’d found out whatever Wally had hidden from you (like the surprise parties he tried throwing for your birthday, only for you to find him out five times in a row before he gave up). But now, they looked ever more sure, and Wally hoped he hadn’t been found out.
You took a step forward, now facing him as you closed the distance. “Hey, Walls?”
Wally hummed, eyes darting all over your face, close enough that he could see every shade and hue in your eyes, the way your mouth was pulled into a smile, something sly but that also said you wanted to know something, as your eyes fixed on his mouth.
“What up?”
“Don’t panic.”
“I— what? What do you mean—“
You’d grabbed him by the collar, lips slotting against his that were still sealed shut. The surprise of the impact had him opening his eyes, before reality caught up to him. You were kissing him. You were kissing him. Before he could fully return the fervour, you’d pulled back.
“That’s why.”
Wally was staring at you, eyes wide. “You kissed me.”
”I did,” you grinned, closing the gap to the point where Wally could feel your body pressed up against his, and instinct dictated that he steady you, his hands falling on your waist. “Now are you just going to stand there and gawk, or will you kiss me again?”
When Wally made no move to respond, still glued to the fact that you’d kissed him and it wasn’t a dream, you made to move out of his embrace. “Maybe I should go ask Dick if he wants to— mmph!”
”Shut up,” Wally murmured, pressing his lips to yours again, hands moving to circle around you as he pulled you closer to him, but he was grinning now. You couldn’t help mirror it as you pulled him closer to you, tugging on his hair as you did.
Wally let out a low sound, shuffling back as you hit the edge of your desk, his palms flash against your hips as he set you on top of it. The fireproof material of Wally’s suit bunching in your hands as you dragged him closer, his hands steadying you, still kissing you as if he couldn’t stop. He moved away when you hooked one leg to pull him closer.
”Wait— hold on, what does this mean?”
You blinked, the sluggish euphoria that had filled your veins, sparking a fire in your system slowed into a small flame as you finally realised what he was saying. You looked up into deep greens as they studied you, trying to figure you out, the way they always did.
”I don’t want to do this if it’s just something casual, I don’t— I can’t do that, not with you.”
You loosened your grip on his collar, smoothening it as you tried to figure out how to put it in a way that made him understand just how selfishly you needed him. “That’s the last thing I want with you.”
”Good, because I want this,” he was drawing circles into your waist, still close like he couldn’t bear to be any further from you, eyes scanning every inch of your face. “I want you, all of you.”
You smiled, heart thump-thump-thumping so wild you were sure he could feel it with how close the two of you were. “You have me.”
And Wally’s smile was blinding, the flame in your veins burning brighter just at the way he was looking at you.
“Yeah?” he asked, voice soft and wrecked with emotion.
”Yeah.”
Wally’s mouth slotted against yours against, messy and teeth clashing with how brightly he was smiling, tongue licking at your bottom lip as you dragged him into you, letting him take and take and take everything he wanted. His hands slid into your hair as he tilted your head back, lips moving across every inch of skin he could access, your legs hooking around his hips to sit flush with yours.
”I can’t wait to tell Dick you thought that I was in love with him when you’re here.”
Wally groaned against your pulse point, the spot behind your ear, the sound low and gravelly that had your eyes fluttering shut as you fought to keep your teasing for longer. He pulled away, just enough to speak.
”You won’t let me live that down, will you?”
”I can be convinced,” you teased, breath hitching as he already started tracing a path across your skin again, willing you to forget his stupidity, hands already latching onto the zipper in the front of your tactical suit. “Fuck, baby. . .”
”Say that again,” he hummed, mouthing at your collarbone and you had no choice but to acquiesce his demand.
”Wally, babe, don’t—fuck, don’t stop,” you whimpered as his hips pressed hard into yours again, the pressure only causing the fire curling low in your belly to burn harder as you met his actions and desire.
“God, you have no idea what you do to me, darlin’.”
The low drawl had you pulling him up, his eyes not only having a slither of green as they gazed up at you in hunger.
“I have an idea,” you mumbled, dragging him into you again, his body following yours with no resistance.
WHAT’S NEXT FOR GOTHAM’S HOTTEST COUPLE? FIND OUT AND READ OUR ARTICLES IN THE LUXE GOSSIP SERIES .ᐟ
BRUCE WAYNE is in love. yes, you heard that well. very well. we told you about this last time and seriously, some of you readers doubted us. how could you? you also doubted bruce wayne’s girlfriend and her intentions. many if you suggested she’s a gold digger. many of you gothamites adore her and wish to be be in her place. some of you want us to interview her and that can definitely be arranged!
last time, we caught the sexy couple sneaking around in a boutique— and bruce wayne seemed way too eager to let his fingers wander inappropriately as he got on his knees to fasten the strap of his girlfriend’s pink high heels.
the couple spent quite a few hours inside the store and left after a successful private “shopping spree”. allow us remind you: billionaire bruce wayne booked an entire luxury boutique for his much younger girlfriend and we caught his gaze lingering far too long on her skirt while she was shopping around. she’s living our dream.
and we’re still going crazy over that picture of bruce on his knees!
this week, our photographers caught the couple in the french riviera, away from the chaos of gotham city. bruce wayne, shirtless— and don’t worry, we made sure to get plenty of shots of the billionaire’s sculpted physique for his most devoted fans, we know you love him— and his girlfriend, fresh out of the shower, with a pink silk robe and wet, messy hair, looking effortlessly gorgeous. they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, having a steamy hot make out session, bodies glued to each other like there was no tomorrow, on a balcony in monte carlo. in plein soleil too!
they drove around in a stunning vintage mercedes-benz and we spotted them shopping— with bruce carying dozens of bags stacked with designer pieces and jewelry for his girlfriend who dressed herself in the prettiest dresses you’ve ever seen.
the two lovebirds seemed to enjoy their getaway (sexcapade) on the billionaire’s yacht and his girlfriend left us all wanting more with her tiny bikini sets. in fact, at some point, we spotted wayne’s princess removing her bra off and enjoying the mediterranean sun proving she’s not the shy type at all! no, we can’t show you. bruce wayne would end our careers and we want to keep this column.
you tan pretty in your boyfriend’s yacht, laid in a sunbed, barely covered by a skimpy glittery bikini— the tiniest you could find inside your wardrobe. you discard your bra and abandon it next to your sunbed, on the yacht’s upper deck floor.
your excuse? trying to get a nice, uniform bronze. it’s a necessity in order to avoid those, oh, so incredibly annoying tan lines. really, you like to put on a show, to tease your older boyfriend, with golden thick liquid dripping heavy through your fingers while you massage your tits, letting the oil soak in.
you go slow, letting more oil drip on your lower abdomen, perfectly manicured fingers dragging slowly past the band of you bikini thongs, which are already hanging dangerously low around you waist.
bruce stands tall, with a towel hanging loose on his shoulders and salty water still dripping from his damp hair from his earlier swim, a pair of shades covers the blues of his eyes. he’s indeed very handsome. in his early forties, he looks sexier than any man you’ve laid your eyes on, but, after all, he’s bruce wayne. and he’s your boyfriend.
he’s a fantastic boyfriend too. he kept his promise of taking you on a trip to europe with his private jet.
bruce tries to pretend the gotham gazette he just picked up is far more interesting than your show. and that he’s not peeking over the top of the newspaper. you both know that’s a lie. he’s been relaxing under the upper deck canopy, an espresso rests unfinished on a table.
him, from all people, should have some self control. but, really, you’re giving him a hard time. how can he resist his spoiled little girlfriend, who touches herself so shamelessly, basking under the burning mediterranean sun?
you slip the thongs down your legs, but you don’t look at him. not even once. you’re stuck in your own world, all by yourself on the upper deck of his yacht, on full display, sitting naked and pretty, arching your back and groping your tits, with no shame whatsoever.
you keep going, eyes closed, heart racing in your chest. wetness pools between your heated thighs and you spread your legs wider and your fingers can finally reach that sweet, warm spot you’ve been wanting to touch so eagerly. this little show of yours has got you all wet and needy— all this teasing made you crave bruce’s touch, you want him to take care of this mess more than ever. so much.
you can’t help but feel the thrill of being watched in this erotic position. you adore it. you love the attention. even with your eyes closed, you can feel his burning gaze wander all over you body, watching the way you massage the dripping liquid into your skin. it makes you so incredibly aroused.
the softest sigh escapes your lips when you press two fingers against your needy clit. when you drag them slowly towards your entrance, another moan, this time, much louder and unrestrained, escapes your mouth. you can hear the paper crinkling under bruce’s fingers; you know he’s slowly losing his composure. his cock aches, it bulges under the fabric of his swim shorts.
then, you stuff the same two two fingers inside your mouth, wrapping your tongue around them, with painfully slow motions.
bruce folds his newspaper shut and throws it on the table, together with his towel and sunglasses.
that’s enough.
“you should wear some sunscreen, princess.” his shadow towers over your sunbed, blocking the burning sunlight. you open you eyes and quickly push your sunglasses on top of you head, a few hair strands looking slightly messy.
“gosh, baby, stop being such a grandpa. please move, i wanna tan!”you reply with a giant, bratty smirk.
“don’t hurt me like that. i thought you liked that i’m older. i care for you.” bruce arches his eyebrow, but a soft smirk peeks in the corners of his mouth.
he leans closer to you, lips clashing against yours in fervent, burningly loving kiss. you moan against his mouth, finding a way to kiss him longer when his fingers suddenly tease and stretch your wet pussy. your fingers run through his damp black hair and your other arm pulls him closer to your body, tits pressed against his chest. it’s so sweaty and addictive, it shuts your brain completely. all you crave is him inside you, despite the extreme heat that could make anyone lose their mind.
his tongue wanders slow and precise, he sucks on the skin of your neck and you dig your nails in his shoulder. your boyfriend takes care of your pretty tits gently. one nipple between his lips, the other flicked and twisted between his fingers, while he fondles one of your boobs inside the big palm of his hand. the other is busy stuffing you up, making you drool, all needy and turned on, with your chin resting on on his head.
“i- i love it when you care for me… bruce.”
“do you love it when i care for you like this too?”
before you can utter the answer, bruce sinks on his knees, pulling your body closer to the edge of the sunbed. he places you legs on his broad shoulders, his large hands wrapped around your ankles. you wear one gold anklet he gifted you the other day, it’s soft and delicate, one of the prettiest you’ve ever seen and it costed a fortune. bruce presses his lips against your skin in a soft kiss, right above the anklet.
his blue eyes stare into yours deeply and his tongue works its way down to your clit, drawing painfully slow circles, just enough for your back to arch against the plush sunbed mattress.
“do you like it when i touch myself for you, sir?”
with his mouth between your legs, bruce leaves out a muffled, deep grunt into your pussy and you take that as a yes. he keeps going, stuffing two thick fingers inside your cunt, pushing them as deep as possible. he curves them enough to reach your sweet spot and the strech feels exhilarating, he matches the rythm of his tongue with the movement of his fingers.
“you’re so beautiful, princess. my god, just look at you.”
he gets on top of you, trapping your body between his muscular arms while he gives you another kiss, making you taste the sweetness of your pussy on his lips. you gulp and move your hand towards the band of his swim shorts, where his cock twitches hard— he’s so turned on by you, it hurts to hold in it. you drag the elastic band lower and he slips his hand inside, pulling his length out, thick and delicious, oozing with precum.
“please, baby… fuck me.”
he uses his raw strength to manhandle you and flip your around, bending you over the sunbed backrest, strong, big muscles sweaty and tensed. your thigh is being groped by his big hand, slightly raised up, legs parted enough for his cock to sink inside your wet cunt. you arch your back and rest your face on the backrest, plump ass up.
when his tip slowly works its way inside your pussy, bruce leaves a gutural grunt out and you moan so unexpectedly loud, feeling so incredibly brain melting, you can barely hold it in anymore. you’re so loud. you thank god bruce told the workers to leave you alone on the upper deck, but you bet they can still hear you. how embarrassing.
you’ve been dying to feel his thick cock strech you wide open, filling you up in ways not a single man before him did. bruce wayne is so good to you, so attentive, he studied you, learned everything about you, including how you love to be fucked. raw, with hard strokes, hitting deep inside your cunt.
he knows exactly how to bring you to your sweet orgasm, how to make your toes curl and back arch with his cock drilling inside you and fingers rubbing your needy clit.
“so, i take you really liked my show.”
“i’ll spank you, sweetheart.”
as he traces the features of your face with his thumb, bruce rolls his eyes and scoffs at you you’re sitting naked on top of him, biting down your lower lip, hands wandering all over his chest. it’s been a few hours of rough, raw sex. truly exhausting. the sun doesn’t burn as hot any longer, the warm summer breeze washes over your bare skin. you place a kiss on his forehead and he smiles softly.
“oh no, how unfortunate for me, mr. wayne. don’t do that to me!” you grab his wrist and guide lower until his hand palms your ass, “sooo unfortunate…”
message from ivy ! i decided to rewrite the first bruce fic i posted on this blog because i thought HMMM it needs more flavor. i realized this and the first part are similar, but trust the third part is really different, pinky promise ! (you’re joining the mile high club) ALSO thank you so so so muchhh for the support i got on the first part, ily angels <3
if you want to join the taglist for this bruce series, leave a comment on the masterlist so i can keep track ! it’s linked at the beginning of this fic and also in my pinned post. thanks for reading! mwuah <3
DC MASTERLIST ! SEND ME A COFFEE !
DO NOT PLAGIARIZE. DO NOT COPY MY LAYOUT OR IDEAS ! i will find you !!!!!
hi!! for the summer soirees (loved the event <3) could i please request from the flirty prompt list "i got these for you because i know they're your favorite" with jason todd? thank you so much!
thank you for requesting!🫶🏽
3. "I got these for you because I know they're your favourite"
.
Jason Todd was used to stakeouts.
His days as Robin had trained him for long nights doing nothing but observing. Back then, Jason had been buzzing at the prospect of being able to stay up later than usual, of being able to sit tucked beside Bruce and feel as though he was a real detective on the case. Those nights as Robin had prepared him, had taught him how to stay unnoticed for long periods of time.
But stakeouts now weren’t as fun as they had once been. There was no Bruce by his side, draping his cape over Jason’s shoulders if the temperature dropped too much. There were no whispered discussions about theories and ploys. There was no fun buzz that came from staking out bad guys, not anymore.
Not when he wasn’t far off being a bad guy himself. Not when he was used to being completely alone on nights like these, just his thoughts for company.
Jason Todd was used to stakeouts and, boy, did he fucking hate them.
“Thought I would find you up here.”
He didn’t jump but it was a close thing. He was thankful for the helmet currently covering his entire face, hiding the way his eyebrows raised in surprise as he glanced over his shoulder to find you walking across the rooftop towards him.
“I must be pretty rusty at staying inconspicuous then,” Jason grunted, turning his gaze back towards the warehouse he had been watching for the last few hours. Though, his body stayed completely aware of your every move as you came closer.
“You can never hide from me, Hood,” you teased, though there was some sincerity in your words. If anyone was able to find him—even when he did not want to be found—it was you.
“What are you doing here?”
You didn’t respond, simply dropping a bag beside him and letting the thump echo across the empty rooftop. He whipped his head to glare at you (though the helmet still covered his face) but you simply grinned in response.
“What’s in the bag?”
You rolled your eyes. “Open it and check yourself.”
Jason watched you for another few moments before he reached towards the bag, pulling the zip back and finding the duffel bag full of supplies. There were binoculars and cameras, ropes and grapple hooks, knives and smoke bombs. But the thing that caught his eye was the box of cookies tucked in the side.
And somehow, you seemed to know exactly what he was staring at because you reached for the box with a knowing smile. “I got these because I know they’re your favourite,” you said, your voice a hint softer than it had been before. “I managed to snatch them up before everyone could scoff them down.”
Jason swallowed the lump in his throat. “Alfie’s cooking does that to people.”
“Well, lucky for you, you have your own personal stash,” you said, crouching down beside him and taking a spot on the rooftop like you planned to stay.
Jason wanted to say something. He wanted to ask why you brought them, why you had even bothered to box them up and hunt him down. He wanted to ask if anyone saw you, if anyone knew they were for him, if anyone tried to stop you. He wanted to ask if you knew he hated going home, that he hated the way he could feel Bruce’s heavy gaze on him, that no matter what it still felt like home in his heart and he couldn’t stand it. He wanted to ask so many fucking questions, it felt suffocating.
He didn’t ask you a single one. Instead, he turned his attention back to the warehouse and let the silence fall between you, and something in him settled at not having to do this stakeout alone.
Time for some requestin'! Can I please get a one shot for Jason Todd x male reader? Jason who's still getting trying to settle in joins a book club. There he finds reader who is smokin hot. He finds out the two of em grew up in Gotham and lived pretty hard lives. Since the 2 don't realize what romantic intimacy looks like they become friends with benefits. This relationship continues until slowly the two start becoming more domestic and the other club members notice it. The two have sex less often and just learn to love each other's presence. I'll forever be a Jason x civilian reader fan and it clearly shows 💀
【❝What Ever Happened To ‘No Strings Attached’?❞】
【Synopsis: In which Jason finds himself falling for the person he swore he wouldn’t catch feelings for】
【Featuring: Jason Todd】
【Tags: MDNI, suggestive content, male reader, civilian reader, friend with benefits to lovers, typical Jason angst (this man can’t ever let himself be happy smh), discussions to sex (no explicit scenes are written), Jason fell first and fell harder lol, ambiguously happy ending, possible typos/spelling errors, please let me know if I missed any tags】
【Word count: 1.6k】
【a/n: YAYYYY!!!! Long time no Jason content, huh?? Ahhh I’ve missed writing him sm, bro so tysm for sending this in!!! I love a good friend with benefits/situationship to lovers in fics, but idk if it works out as well irl lol! Anyway, I had such a great time writing this and I really hope you like it Bunny!!!! <3333333】
Things were never supposed to end up like this.
All Jason wanted was a break. From the very moment he emerged from the cursed waters of the Lazarus Pit, he'd been going nonstop day in and day out without so much as stopping to take a breath for himself.
On the rare occasion Jason managed to find sleep — usually after drinking himself into oblivion or a particularly exhausting night — it was by no means restful. Nightmares kept him awake more often than not — always have, always will.
When Jason found an add for the local library's book club, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he'd finally get a break. I mean, he loves reading. Sure, he didn't have much time to crack open the classics due to his… 'extracurricular activities' as Red Hood, but he had been meaning to get back in the saddle, so to speak.
In hindsight, Jason isn't quite sure what he was expecting from this book club. Maybe a few little old ladies trying to get out and mingle in their golden years or some bored housewives looking to get away from the day-to-day monotony. What he didn't expect, was you — smokin' hot, drop-dead handsome — you.
In all honesty, your presence made it difficult for Jason to focus on any of the actual conversations the club had. He read the chosen book each month and made sure to show up for each weekly meeting for the group to discuss their progress, but he never listened to any of it if you were there.
Correction, Jason listened whenever you spoke. He'd hang on your every word like a devotee listening to a sermon. Whether you were chiming in with your two cents, or directing the group in conversation, he was right there waiting in anticipation for the next syllable to leave your lips.
When you didn't show up to a meeting — which was incredibly rare — Jason found himself… missing you, which is rather strange since he hadn't spoken so much as a word to you in the months since he joined the club. He'd leave those meetings feeling… empty.
With time, Jason got to know you. In the beginning, he kept things strictly related to the club. He'd catch you after meetings and spend far too long engaging you in conversation long after everyone else had already left. That eventually turned into something else when you gave him your number, which kicked off the chain of events that would lead to the two of you sharing a bed.
In Jason's defense, he never meant to start a friend with benefits situation with you. I mean, he found you incredibly attractive and all, but his lifestyle didn't really lend itself to committed relationships, let alone casual sex. Still, he would have been lying if he said he didn't want to get his hands on you.
The whole arrangement came to be right outside the library you met at every week. What was meant to be a casual conversation about the shitty romantasy novel the club had chosen for that month turned into something unexpected when the subject of your own love lives — or lack thereof — somehow managed to get brought up.
"Listen, all I'm saying is that the dick can't be that good. Like, maybe I'm just icked out by this guy, but I seriously can't believe she puts up with his shit. Like, who in their right mind stays with a man after he literally chained you up in a tower!" Something about listening to you rant and rave amused Jason to no end. Your impassioned rambling were always the highlight of your weekly club meetings. In fact, Jason found that he much preferred your retelling of the plots rather than the books themselves — especially this one.
"I mean, you read the candle scene, right? Was that not good enough to make you okay with being chained up?"
"I didn't just read the candle scene, Jason, I suffered through it. Oh my god, that was literally the most unsexy thing I've ever had the misfortune of laying my eyes on in my entire life. I have no idea how she stayed with him after that, because I would have dropped his ass after two pumps and called it a day." Your blunt assessments never failed to make Jason laugh. I'm not talking about a chuckle either, I'm talking full-on hearty laughter. As edgy as it sounds, he never thought he'd laugh that hard again, but then you came around and proved him wrong.
"Well, maybe you just haven't gotten dick good enough to make you okay with getting chained up."
"I consider that a good thing, although I could really stand to get laid."
"Heh, you and me both."
…
"You're single?"
"Yeah, and you?"
"Chronically single."
And that's how, without any ceremony whatsoever, Jason ended up in bed with you.
This wasn't what Jason wanted. Well, he wanted to get you in between the sheets, but not like this. He knew he couldn't give you a proper relationship — not with the constant chaos that is his life — but he sure as hell could give you the carnal pleasure that you were both so severely lacking.
At first, sex with Jason was a purely transactional thing. The act itself has never been much more than that, an act. There was never any love of tenderness in any of his past encounters and for some time, it was like that with you too.
He didn't kiss you. He didn't whisper sweet words as he took you. He barely even made sure you were okay before he was pulling on his clothes and heading out his door. To Jason, it was all just a release, a meeting of needs without any further feelings involved.
At least that's what he told himself.
With every encounter, Jason could feel himself growing… attached to you, which both swore to each other wouldn't happen. I mean, the whole hooking up thing is supposed to be commitment free — no feelings, no strings attached and all that.
Before Jason knew it, sex with you wasn't just about the release anymore. You became a comfort, so to speak, a safe space where he could set all his troubles aside and just be.
Anyone that looked at the two of you could tell that something was up. In fact, the majority of your book club has a bet going on how long it would take for you two to stop dancing around your feelings and finally get together.
Slowly, those feelings began to creep into the bedroom. Jason found himself doing a complete 180. He started lingering more often, spending time with you before and after the deed was done. This is how he discovered his fondness for pillow talk. If he could, he'd lie there in bed with you in his arms for hours, just sitting and talking about any and everything.
It was in these moments, as you both bathed in your shared afterglow, that Jason truly fell for you. In you, Jason found a kindred spirit, someone who faces similar struggles that managed to come out on the other side with their head held high. That, among many other things, is what Jason admired about you most.
The realization of how deep these feelings for you went came with a slow acceptance. Jason never once thought himself to be the type of guy to fall so deeply in love with someone, especially not his sneaky link, yet here he was, totally head over heels for you despite it all.
Gradually, your relationship stopped revolving around sex entirely. I mean, you'd still get down and dirty pretty frequently, but there was obviously so much more to your bond than just that.
When the change first started, Jason was worried you'd call things quit when they got too deep, too intimate, too much, but you didn't. You adapted, you adjusted, and you let your relationship become much more than it was ever intended to be.
Sure, the sex is great, but the emotional intimacy? Now that's even better.
"There you are! I was staring to think you ghosted me!" If Jason ever ghosted you, he'd give you full permission to shoot him in the knees. He'd give you his every waking moment if he could, but you both have lives to live, and he'd hate to come off as clingy.
"Oh c'mon, I may be a lot of things, but a fool isn't one of them. I'd never ghost you, handsome. I'm sorry, alright? I was a bit busy getting your little surprise here." In another other situation, it might feel like too much if your situationship showed up on your doorstep for a hangout with your favorite food in hand, but you're both far past that point. Hell, Jason thinks you might be pissed if he showed up empty-handed, and he's not about to get on your bad side.
"Well, I suppose you are forgiven, but you better not fuckin' leave me on read again, or we'll have a problem."
"Is that a threat, or a promise?"
"Both, now get your ass in here before I start the movie and eat all the food without you."
"Sir, yes sir."
Nights like these, cuddled up on your couch eating your favorite takeout while hate watching movies — tonight's choice being the new Wuthering Heights adaptation — are Jason's favorite. He doesn't need to lay you down and have his way with you when he can enjoy this little slice of domestic heaven.
Whatever this is doesn't have a label, not yet at least. You see, Jason plans on asking you to officially be his boyfriend soon, but he's not in much of a rush. Don't get him wrong, things are nice as they are now, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't want to turn this situationship into something real.
When the time does come, make sure you guys tell the rest of the book club when you finally make things official so they can finally collect on their bets.
Damian watched as Jon fumbled around the room, tripping over this own things and apologizing to the inanimate objects. He possible, slightly, was just the tiniest bit cute, but so what? Damian had maybe liked a guy before, but he'd rather die than tell anyone about it.
Back home, there was Superboy, now that kid was dangerous. He was one of the reasons why Damian didn't want to go off to college, he didn't want to lose the first person who had truly reached that part of his heart.
OR, Damian starts to suspect his new college roommate might be the same superhero he has a crush on.
