#x gn!reader

[lxvvie]

He doesn't think it's anything special, but Simon knows you like his voice. There's a certain cadence to it when he addresses you that just... does things to you. Coarse, heavy with emotions, and sounding a lot like home. Those were your words. Heh. Fancy that. Goes double with the pet names, though. And yes, the bastard takes advantage of this at every turn, if only to see you flustered, look away in embarrassment, or get all shy and soft on 'im. Aren't you cute, pretty?

Speaking of pretty, whenever you call out to him?

"Yeah, sweetheart?" First time he said it, Simon swore your knees buckled. Then it turned to "What is it, baby?" or "Luv?" That rough but soft lilt, just like you like it.

Oh, but if you thought that was bad, Simon ups the ante with strong eye contact, too. Sometimes he doesn't say shit, doesn't really have to to get his point across, just watches you. And when you catch him, he doesn't stop. Nah, not his M.O., precious. Your lieutenant keeps staring, keeps watching you, the ghost of a smirk on his lips, loving how you get so timid and shit, avert your gaze some, and then come back to him because yeah, you got that hold on him, too, sweetheart.

But the coup de grâce?

"...Simon?"

"...Yeah, beautiful?"

You shortcircuit something fierce, and Simon chuckles in response. Smug bastard's still got it.

And nah, he ain't stopping anytime soon. Get used to it, gorgeous.

[steviely]

.✦ ryland grace should have known you were gonna create a monster, once you showed rocky human music!

Ryland knew. He should have tried harder not to let you show Rocky human music. But he couldn't deny you, when you both give him this innocent wide-eyed look, well you more-so, but he could tell Rocky was doing . . . something. A small whine escaping your lips, clasping your hands together. “Please?” You begged, Rocky happily, tapping his feet on the ground beside you. “Rocky want to hear human music!” Rocky exclaimed, throwing his front legs up, his three fingers pointing out, as if he was doing jazz hands.

Ryland sighed, nodding, “Okay, you two.” You threw your hands up in celebration, Rocky turning towards you, coping the motion of throwing his front legs back up. “Rocky, let's go!” You motioned towards the exit of the workshop, Rocky excitedly rolling out the door. “Human music! Human music!” Rocky chanted, shouted, his little legs carrying him as fast as he could go.

Rocky barreled through the door not even ten minutes later, things clattering behind him. “Human music! Amaze! Must show Grace!”

Now hear Ryland sits, watching as Rocky, loudly sang the lyrics to 'Espresso' by Sabrina Carpenter with his monotone computer voice. You giggled, watching from your seat, as Rocky did a small wiggle. Rocky tapped his feet, “Rocky work late!” You laughed, adding on to Rocky's buffoonery.

“Because he's a singer!”

Rocky made a small chirp, at your comment. Rocky, making a motion with his front leg, Ryland was guessing he was trying to mimic the dance. “That me espresso!” Rocky did a small twirl, “Rocky, amaze, question?” Rocky tilted his head, towards you and Ryland. You clapped your hands, Rocky preening at your praise. Ryland huffed out a laugh, “Yeah, amaze.”

i was listening to short n' sweet and the idea of rocky singing espresso was making me giggle real bad 😭 this probably sucks ass though . . . this is for real a drabble. planning on making more ryland fics because i'm starving for him

© tearfulmusings.

[aseafullofstars]

cuteness aggression ☆ soldier boy

summary: it's not your fault you think soldier boy's just adorable first thing in the morning

pairing: soldier boy x reader (gn) | genre: fluff | word count: 1.5k (this is short, sorry !!)

warnings: soldier boy (language, mostly. sexual innuendos), implied morning-after (implied past sexual acts), probably ooc ben (i have not watched the boys, i just know he curses a lot and looks hot)

notes: clem's idea !! @clemeowntine

Sunlight streams through the window, a faint breeze fluttering the curtains. The shadows of them dance across your back, rippling like waves in the ocean over the sheets twisted between your legs. It’s peaceful, quiet in the way the world gets when you get a moment to breathe. There’s a faint smell of laundry detergent in the air, and you wrinkle your nose, unsure how the scent made it into your bedroom. It’s not a bad one, just a little out of place.

You blink your eyes open, stifling a yawn in the crook of your elbow. You’re on your stomach, a pillow turned vertically under you, wrapped up in your arms. There’s a dent in it from where your head’s been laying, and you note you must have been asleep for a while. Hauling yourself upright, you rest your weight on your forearms. Somewhere, tangled around your legs, in the sheets; hooked around one ankle, one foot exposed to the cool air of the bedroom. You give a half-hearted tug on the quilt, not surprised when it doesn’t give. You settle back into the quiet, turning onto your side and savouring the gentle ache in your lower stomach.

You smile sleepily, recalling last night. For once, it was strangely gentle at your insistence. Something soft, relaxed, no rush. For once, there was nothing coming after you, and you needed to have a night with him that wasn’t a blaze of touches. Not that it wasn’t intense, because it was, but it was intense in the softest way, where emotions and careful touches do the talking. He’d still been Soldier Boy last night, because that façade rarely slips, even around someone he trusts as much as you.

This morning is different. The man beside you in bed isn’t Soldier Boy; not some renegade patriot symbolizing the ghosts of a nation’s war dreams from eighty years ago. No, this morning, it’s Ben who sleeps soundly beside you. He’s sprawled on his back, one bare leg hooked around the blankets, which explains why you can’t move them. One arm is stretched out, and you distantly remember it being under your head when you’d fallen asleep against him. You may have moved, but his arm didn’t, still reaching for you even though you’re right there.

You slide across the mattress, curling yourself into his side and resting your head back on his arm. You move slowly, not wanting to wake him. He grunts once in his sleep when your head hits his pillow, but that’s it. Exhaling slowly, you throw your leg over his, toss an arm over his waist, and let yourself soak in the hush of morning.

You don’t know if you fully fall asleep again or not, but the next thing you take note of is that Ben’s turned in your grip, letting himself curl into you. His arm is still under your head, your leg still over his, but he’s made himself smaller. His head rests just in the crook of your neck, soft breathing tickling your shoulder. He’s warm, as always, the serum in him making him a constant space heater; something you’ve taken advantage of many times during the colder months. You smile faintly, thinking of all the times he’s teased you for wrapping yourself around him on the couch despite being in a sweater, eagerly seeking out his warmth.

You reach a hand up to run it through his hair, taming in the wild strands and smoothing them back from where they curl against his forehead. Each pass is careful, teasing out the knots without waking him up. Slowly but surely, his hair untangles beneath your touch, until your fingers pass through it unburdened. Your lips brush his forehead, feather-light and so soft he’d barely feel it if he was awake.

You turn your attention the rest of him, tracing your fingers over his brows, the ridge of his nose that’s crooked from one too many breaks, the ridges of his cheekbones that dip to his jaw. You spend extra time on his cheeks, fingertips touching the freckles that dust his face; there’s a collection of them on his right cheek near his nose that look like an ‘M’ that you find particularly interesting.

“Whatever the fuck is it you're doin', quit it,” a husky voice says, lazily swatting your arm away.

“Ask nicely,” you tease, kissing the tip of Ben’s nose as he grumbles something under you.

“Yeah, yeah, fuckin' please or whatever.”

“Please what?”

His eyes aren’t opened yet, but if they were, you’re certain he’d be rolling them right now. “Quit it.”

“Ask nicely,” you say a second time, giggling lightly at his frustration.

“You’re a pain in my ass,” he mutters.

“And yet, you’re not stopping me.”

You’re right, he’s not stopping you. Your fingers are back on his face, softly tracing along his jawline from one sideburn to the other. The short beard he’s sporting is rough under your hand, but you don’t mind the friction. Then, almost imperceptibly, he sighs through his nose and inches closer to your hand, pressing your full palm to his cheek. Your eyebrows raise in surprise.

“What’s this all about, mister?” you say, attempting a half-sultry tone.

“Oh, lay off it with the fuck-me voice. Ain’t a good look, sweetheart.”

You give him an exaggerated frown, already getting way too much joy out of riling him up. It’s not going to result in anything, and you don’t intend it to. Just ticking him off enough that he pins you under his weight and gives you his undivided attention is all you need. And it’s working.

Ben leans in to kiss you, and you turn your head, shoving your hands against his chest. He blinks, stunned.

“The fuck was that about?”

“Oh, nothing. Just not in the mood.”

His eyes narrow. “You were about to climb me like a tree ten seconds ago.”

You have to try way too hard to hold back your laughter. “And? That was ten seconds ago.”

If it were anyone else teasing him like this, they’d be a hole in the ground by now. But there’s something about you that makes him hesitate. Maybe it’s the way you look like one insult might kill you (it won’t, he very quickly discovered. You can take it just as well as you can dish it). Maybe it’s the gentleness you have whenever you do anything. Ben’s convinced you could look like an angel even taking someone’s head off.

 What it really is, in all honesty, is the way you look at him like he’s human. Like he’s more than just a washed-up sex symbol. You look at him, and he sees a future in your eyes, where he’s a person with a face and a name that isn’t tainted by patriotism. Maybe it’s the softness you bring into his life, the chances at all the things he never knew he could have, that make him okay with letting you push him around. Anything to make you stay. And apparently, that includes letting your teeth nip his bicep.

He winces just a touch; not from pain, but the unexpectedness of it. Your teeth nip gently once, twice, three times at the skin on his bicep, and he cocks his head in confusion.

“The fuck’s that for?” he says, voice rough and low.

“Just felt like it.”

“You just felt like it?” he mocks, pitching his voice in a poor imitation of yours.

You laugh airily. “You’re cute in the mornings, that’s all.”

He huffs once. “Alright, that’s enough outta you.”

In one smooth movement, he flips you onto your back, spreading himself out over you and pushing you into the mattress with his weight. You laugh in that pinched way you do when something’s pressing on your chest, like the air rushes out faster than it can get back in. He kisses you deeply, tongue sweeping into your mouth for just a second before he lets you go.

“Ben, get off me,” you whine breathlessly, pushing at his chest.

He doesn’t move, just winking at you and quirking his mouth up in a smile. “You had it comin’, sweetheart.”

You bite his arm once more, just because you can, and his brows furrow. “Quit that too.”

“Why? You’re cute.”

You smooth a thumb between his brows, the furrow dissolving against Ben’s will. “I am not cute. Dunno where the fuck you’re gettin’ that idea from.”

“You are cute. You’re always cute.”

He huffs against your neck, sucking a hickey onto your skin in retaliation.

“Ben!” you squeal. “Someone’s gonna see it!”

“Good. Let ‘em know you’re mine. Even if you do weird shit to me.”

The morning drags on, soft sunlight and gentle heat, sleepy warmth tangling up between your bodies. You do nothing more than lay there, letting Ben’s weight on you ground you, reminding you of how lucky you are to get this with him. This is the life he deserves, cuteness aggression and all.

[jasontoddkissr]

jason todd x reader .𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔 . fluff

wc: 0.6K

Jason doesn’t believe in the kind of intimacy that glows.

He doesn’t spill himself open in the dark or trace his past with gentle words. He doesn’t talk about his job. Not the blood, not the nights, not the way Gotham hums under his skin long after the city’s gone to sleep. That part of him stays sealed, wrapped tight in muscle memory and silence.

Most nights, you find him already in bed, the lamp turned low like he’s afraid of waking something. Reading glasses slipping down his nose. A book balanced in his hands like an anchor. He looks carved from shadow and lamplight, edges softened by paper and ink. Still dangerous. Still distant. But held.

You try, at first, to meet him where couples are supposed to meet.

“How was your day?”

A pause. A shrug.

“Good. I guess.”

It’s never unkind. Just… final.

Sometimes you get fragments. Dick said something stupid. Damian recommended a book with the air of a challenge. Once, he scoffs about a character being written wrong, like that matters more than anything else. You collect these moments like loose change, hoping they’ll add up to something solid.

For a while, it feels like loving him means sitting beside a closed door and pretending you don’t hear what’s locked inside.

Then one night — tired and unguarded — you nod toward the book in his hands.

“Is it good?”

The question barely exists.

It doesn’t reach for his past or pry at old wounds. It doesn’t ask him to explain the nights that leave bruises beneath his skin or the things he keeps buried because they’re sharp. It doesn’t demand access to a world he’s deliberately built walls around.

Not because he doesn’t trust you, but because letting you in would mean letting you see the parts of him that get people hurt.

It just asks about the thing he’s already holding. The one place he’s allowed himself to be loud without consequence, vulnerable without collateral damage. Paper and ink. A story that can’t bleed on you.

He looks up.

“Yeah,” he says. Then, quieter, more honest, “It’s… complicated.”

And then he starts talking.

About the plot first. How it meanders, how it almost loses itself and then claws its way back. About characters who make choices that ruin them. About anger that burns too hot, about guilt that doesn’t let anyone sleep. His voice roughens, sharpens, warms. His hands move when he speaks, forgetting to stay still.

Time dissolves. The book slides forgotten to the mattress.

You curl closer, listening, realising this is the longest you’ve heard him speak without armor.

He doesn’t notice when his critiques turn confessional.

He says things like ‘I get why he did that’ and ‘sometimes there isn’t a clean way out’ and ‘people don’t stop being dangerous just because they’re loved’. He never says me. He never says I. But you hear it anyway, threaded between the lines.

You learn him through stories.

Through the characters he defends and the endings he hates. Through the way he respects survival more than redemption. Through the quiet reverence he has for people who keep going without being forgiven.

So you keep asking.

What he’s reading. What he thinks. Why it matters.

And slowly it becomes a language.

Books become bridges. Metaphors become confessions. He starts relating fiction to his brothers, to the shape of his anger, to the way fear disguises itself as control. Sometimes he stops mid-thought, jaw tightening, like he’s said too much.

You never rush him.

You just stay. Warm. Listening. Letting the silence land gently instead of closing like a trap.

Jason doesn’t talk about his life the way other people do.

He tells it sideways. In margins. In borrowed words.

And every night, in the low lamplight, with a book open between his hands and your heartbeat steady beside him, he lets you read him. One chapter at a time.

[rosasandroses]

hola again again 🤩

this is part 3, the final part of the bruce wayne x neglected spouse reader. part 1 and part 2 can be found respectively!

> 3k words!!

this chapter makes the other two look like prologues 😭

thump, thump, thump, thump

jason could hear his heart beating within him. was it his heart? or was it his booming steps as he took fast strides across the manor, chasing after one of the only people in his life that made him feel real?

y/n was much faster than he thought. but what did he expect? years of their life was wasted. just like that. all because bruce just couldn’t manage to love the most loveable person on this earth. and for jason? he didn’t even get to blink. he didn’t get to process anything. all he knew was that he needed to be there for y/n. just like y/n was there for him.

”y/n…! please wait..!” jason hastened his steps, wanting to catch up to them. y/n skidded to a stop.

”jason, i promise i will see you again,” y/n turned to face the taller man, and reached a hand out towards him. “i’m sorry things turned out this way.” they caressed his cheek so tenderly, like a mother would do, doting on their child. the irony is that the ‘child’, jason, completely towers over y/n.

”…please stay for a while..” jason whispered, leaning into y/n’s tender touch. he let his posture fall completely, as if giving up.

”..i love you, jason. i love all of you.” y/n raised his other hand to cup both of jason’s cheeks and pulls him down to his height. jason lets y/n lead him down.

“you’re all free to visit me, and i will be sure to make time for you as well. i have your number, you have mine. this isn’t a goodbye for us. you know that, right?” jason and y/n were now head to head, with jason having to lean down in front of them. the position was a bit awkward, but its nothing jason won’t endure for them.

”..yeah. i know.”

y/n smiled for the first time today. “that’s my smart boy.” y/n kisses jason’s forehead before letting the taller man lean back.

.

.

time passed. too much time has passed. it’s been about a year since y/n had their divorce with bruce. they did their best to keep it on the down low, but gotham always finds a way to unearth everyone’s secrets.

when y/n had returned to the manor to take back the papers, they were surprised to see the gates swarmed with reporters and journalists, eager to get the latest scoop first. this divorce came as a huge shock to the general public.

“bruce and y/n were so in love? what happened”

”y/n was such a sweetheart, they didn’t deserve that bruce wayne. wasn’t he known for being a playboy? i bet he was unfaithful”

> “how could you say that? were you there when they divorced? they probably separated because of y/n.”

> “proof?”

> “i agree! i never understood why y/n married such a person. i wish they stayed with their old boyfriend. hal jordy or something.”

> “hal jordan!! they weren’t that public, but I agree. he was much better for y/n”

“y/n is finally free! i hope they continue their career that they dropped for marriage.”

> “what did y/n do again?”

> “y/n used to work as a paralegal at a company in metropolis. they were going to take the bar exam but bruce wayne got in the way.”

> “how did they went from metropolis to gotham??”

> “lol, apparently bruce wayne and y/n l/n were highschool sweethearts in gotham uni. they broke things off but started dating bruce again some time after they moved away.”

”brucie is finally free! hope i can get in his pants.”

> “true!!! they acted so lovey-dovey i was worried i lost my chance on that wayne weiner. i bet it was all just an act.”

as the media had their field day, so did the birds that were left in the batcave.

.

.

dick was doing okay. he did his best to contact y/n as much as he can. But with all the shit going down in bludhaven, batman, and just being a normal person in general- it takes a huge part of his energy to just wake up in the morning. he sometimes forgets to message y/n himself. y/n never forgets though. there was never a time in y/n’s life where they forgot anything about dick, their first son.

dick was tired. he wanted nothing but to just sleep away and make everything tomorrow’s problem. just as he was about to crash in his suit, his phone vibrated. someone had sent him a message.

dick smiles. there’s only one person who messages him at 4am in the morning, right when he stops becoming nightwing and starts being dick.

”dick, i know you haven't washed up. go change before you go to bed, okay?” he let out a small laugh. even when they weren’t legally related anymore, y/n still cared for him just as they did before. it was like nothing changed. but something did change. his smile slowly faltered. they shouldn’t have to be messaging like this through a phone. they should be doing this back home, at the manor. face to face.

dick sighed. is the manor even home anymore? when the person who made that place a home doesn’t live there?

”don’t fall asleep yet after you change. i ordered some food for you. it arrives in 10. eat well, dickie. goodnight.”

yeah. who needs a home when home isn’t even a place. dick was alone. it was only him in his apartment in bludhaven. away from anyone who he calls family or friends. but still, right now, he feels just at home.

.

jason had many regrets in his life. one of them is letting you go. call him selfish all you want. but he wants you around more than anyone in that manor.

y/n was the only person who ever defended him, even while he was gone. he parks his motorcycle on the side. and he steps out. he leans on a nearby building and just thinks.

he’s keeping watch around the area. he’s getting too agitated. he feels everything. he sees everything. he just wants y/n back. he lets out a long sigh. a memory enters his mind.

.

there was y/n. it was a rainy day. they were standing with a box in one hand. an umbrella in the other. they were standing in front of a grave. jason’s grave.

today marks jason’s 18th birthday if he was still alive. and he was. but he has yet to make that known. he watches in the shadows as y/n just stands there in front of his grave. it’s been hours. were they planning on staying there the entire day?

it didn’t take much research to know that y/n had been visiting jason whenever a special occasion came up. his birthday, y/n’s birthday, christmas, his death anniversary. any event you can think of, y/n would attend to jason’s grave after. this was y/n’s way of making him feel included. and his heart clenched. his chest was filled with warmth. someone still cared. someone still remembered. he wasn’t replaced. not by y/n. never y/n.

finally. y/n made their move. they bent down to gently place the box in front of jason’s grave. next to all the gifts that have collected over the years that jason was gone. each gift is proof that he was never forgotten.

when y/n left, jason slowly walked up to his grave. the rain poured over him, wetting his hair and obscuring his view a bit, but he didn’t let such a small thing deter him. he looked at the surrounding gifts, the flower arrangements, and the two lamps that illuminated his area, before finally looking at his placard.

In loving memory of Jason Todd.

xxxx to xxxx.

next to the placard was what looked like small stone plate. it had fallen over, probably due to the weather.

he picked it up and his breath hitched.

on the stone plate, it was engraved.

“son to y/n l/n”

jason was thankful for the rain. it hid his tears well, blending with the raindrops on his face. a simple recognition like this was enough to reduce him back to being a child. just a child who wanted the embrace of his parent.

he looked over at the gift y/n had just recently placed. he kneeled down, and placed the stone back back down properly. he lifted up the top part of the box.

from there, he could feel sobs come out his throat.

in the box was shirt of a band he loved back then. it was a hardcore rock band. one that kids his age definitely shouldn't have been listening to. but y/n promised that when he was older, they would take him to one of their concerts.

.

jason looked down at the very shirt he was wearing. the same shirt in his memories. it was worn, a bit tight on him, but he never stopped wearing it. he let out another sigh.

he was selfish. selfish to think y/n would stay. it was just right for y/n to go. it wasn’t right for them.

it’s time jason accepts that. y/n deserves better. better than bruce. better than him. as much as it hurts him, he has to let y/n go.

besides, y/n was still there. just not at the manor. jason tries to convince himself that it’s better this way. he doesn’t have a reason to go back to the manor anymore. that was his past. his future would be fine, as long as y/n was there for him. and for a moment, jason let the corners of his lips quirk up.

y/n has showed time and time again that they will always be there for jason, for them. that’s one thought he can trust in the raging sea of his thoughts.

.

.

tim felt lost for once. he had always been the one among his brothers who knew best. but this is an extremely big change that not even he is able process.

he understands the importance of contracts. it’s been his morning newspaper ever since he took up the role of being part of WE. he’s been one of the first to find out about bruce and y/n’s fake love. but did he pry? yes. did he ask? no. what went down went something like this.

.

tim ad successfully gotten batman to agree. he is robin now. but what tim didn’t expect was for y/n to be… a little cold. from what he knows, y/n was supposed to be kind and loving. so tim did what tim does best. he stalked. he went through every file he can. just to understand their arrangement. that day he was sloppy. he had left the bat-computer open.

y/n found out what he was doing and confronted him. tim came clean. he had expected anger. maybe something similar to what his parents would do back when he still stayed with them. but to his surpise..

”you can always just ask, tim. i don’t mind” y/n says as they closed some of the open tabs tim had left open.

tim wasn’t too sure about that. he had been very wary of y/n’s presence in the manor. shortly after he volunteered to become robin, the reception to his acceptance was sort of cold. he could recall the moment y/n’s eyes landed on him. the heartbreak, the pain, the anguish, it was all contained in their eyes.

for the first time in tim’s life, he was unsure. he knew why y/n acted that way. it was because of the other boy. jason. the boy before him. he remembered y/n gently urging him out the batcave. and as soon as the doors closed, he could faintly hear them yelling at bruce.

since then, tim took it upon himself to stay away.

”…why did you marry bruce if you don’t like him?” maybe for him, it was too naive. but he had to know.

y/n finally looked at tim. “he has a lot of money.”

”but you do too.”

y/n let out a laugh, “he used to make me happy.”

”used to?” tim questioned.

y/n nodded, “he used to be part of the happiest years of my life.”

”you’re talking in past tense. why would you stay for him?”

y/n ruffled his hair. “im not staying for him. not anymore.” y/n looks down, into the robin costume tim was wearing.

from there, tim understood.

”i hope you know what you’re doing. there mustn't be another accident. it shouldn’t happen again. it shouldn’t happen to you.” y/n sighed, keeping his eyes on tim.

from there, tim and y/n’s relationship only grew closer and closer.

.

im his bedroom, tim sighed, looking at an empty coffee mug on his desk. it was usually filled to the brim with joe.

after y/n had left the manor, all the improved habits y/n had helped him build came crashing all over. he went back to drinking coffee for water. counting ‘blinking’ as ‘sleep’. hell, he doesn’t remember the last time he laid down on his bed. just why did they have to leave?

oh, right. bruce.

tim looked at the coffee mug, debating whether or not he should fill it up. he looked at his computer, mentally contemplating how much work he had. after a self battle, he remembered y/n’s words to take breaks when he can. hm. he can do this for y/n. he reluctantly stood up from his seat, grabbing his phone with him before plopping onto his mattress.

as tim begins scrolling on his phone, he comes across a post from y/n. they have passed. the bar exam.

tim lifted himself up from the bed and smiled so widely before sharing the post to the family group chat without bruce. he let the notifications run, ignoring his siblings excited pings.

”congratulations y/n! i’m so happy for you.” it didn’t take long for y/n to respond.

”tim!! you should be sleeping!!!” tim scoffed, laughing lightly.

”but thank you. let’s go out and celebrate :))”

tim smiled. he missed this. their conversation didn’t stop until the sun trickled from the curtains.

.

.

for damian, it had been a punch in the gut. the league had taught him many things. one of those is to hide whatever he was feeling. emotions are reserved for very little occassions. then y/n came along and made him unlearn everything from the league.

he was distraught. but he was thankful. he had gotten a taste of what its like to be normal. his mother wasn’t too happy about it however.

he recalls his mother visiting, to challenge y/n. damian had tried to warn everyone, but he found himself being given the choice. let it happen, or he returns back to league. it was talia who gave the wayne’s guardianship over him. doesn’t matter if it was legal or not, she would revoke him from seeing them ever again if he disobeyed. and so, he kept silent.

when she arrived, y/n looked very visibly upset, but they took control of their emotions well. they urged everyone not to worry, and politely asked talia if they could talk in another room. everyone intervened, especially damian. but y/n was insistent.

damian didn’t know what happened in that room, but both his mother and y/n came out looking very happy. looks like y/n had won over his mother just as much as they have won over all of them.

he was satisfied. y/n is worthy. even mother acknowledges it. it doesn’t stop him from being scolded by y/n when talia left though.

”damian! how could you not say a thing..!” damian looked down. he could see his brothers snickering from their places.

damian opened his mouth, about to explain himself, “why didn’t you say anything, baby? if you were threatened your brothers- and bruce- would have done a number on them! what would have happened if talia wasn’t in such a good mood today..? i was so worried..!”

damian can only look at y/n in awe. they were worried for him? but they were the one being directly confronted by his mother just moments ago! damian felt like a child. but in a good way.

he felt pampered. he felt coddled. he felt safe. after y/n finishes rambling, he embraces y/n. his ten year old self can only reach up to hug y/n’s waist. he felt y/n stumble back in shock- but they were quick to melt in his embrace.

y/n kneeled to properly give damian a hug.

y/n was different. they weren’t talia, and they weren’t bruce. they were perfect.

they were his.

he can only blame himself for pushing y/n to leave. y/n texts daily. but nothing beats y/n being here.

.

damian promised y/n that they will see each other again. that moment has yet to come. he can only hope it happens soon.

.

“selina.” bruce acknowledges, still in his bat costume. mask somewhere in the room.

”hm. where is everybody else?”

bruce momentarily looked up from the bat-computer, before his focus returned, eyes locked on the screen.

”probably tired. give them time, they’ll come around.”

seline huffed. she knew they won’t. it’s been months since bruce formally introduced her as his girlfriend, and none of them have bothered to even look at her.

”a cat doesn’t wait forever, bruce.” she whined, wrapping her arms behind bruce.

he stiffened, before relaxing in her embrace.

she noticed it however.

but she doesn’t say anything. she would rather pretend that everything is okay just to stay with bruce. and for bruce? he chose this. he has to live with his choice. as much as he regrets his choice. his pride is too big for him to admit his own mistakes.

he lets selina do whatever she wants while he studies the screen.

.

“clark-! wait!” laughter filled the air as two figures were seen flying in the sky.

well, one figure was. the other was just clinging onto superman.

”having fun?” superman asked. he was clad in his super suit, the bright blue contrasting against the soft hues of the sky.

”-you jerk! i wasn’t ready!” y/n hit clark’s chest with a fist. it undoubtedly did nothing to the superhuman.

as the two lovers giggle away up high in the sky, the bats all wonder, ‘when will they see y/n again’?

turns out it was much sooner than they anticipated. after a year of only hearing from y/n on the phone, they finally see each other.

.

”so mr. kent, when will you finally interview metropolis’ most renowned lawyer?”

”well, i would love to! but i’m afraid there would be a conflict of interest?”

”how so?”

”well, i’m very interested in my partner!”

laughter filled the a small circle. it contained y/n, clark, and a few others who stroke up a conversation with them.

y/n l/n and clark kent. lawyer and journalist. the internet says they met through grad school, kept in touch, and met when y/n began working at the same company as clark- only in different departments. how romantic.

the batboys watched in excitement. it was y/n! the boys couldn’t wait to see them. but they knew they had all night to talk. they were just glad to see them again. though, it did take all of them to stop damian from stomping right over to take you away.

as for bruce? maybe he ate something bad that night. must be why he can’t seem to get rid of that grimace on his face. even with seline hanging on his arm.

————-

tags: @casey1-2007 @mxrgodsstuff @cruzerforce4256 @shycreatorreview @kittzu @zanzie @letuccel0ver @seanwalbrecht @ghosta16689 @rebeccawinters @letsbedragonstogether @esposadomd @loverboy-radio

[pinkolve]

Andrew "Pope" Cody-Hopelessly Devoted

ᡕᠵデᡁ᠊╾━ ⌖ ⁠♡

Summary: You've got Andrew whipped. Hook, line and sinker...there's no getting rid of you.

Genre: Fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

CW: Gn!Reader as far as I'm aware, no pronouns used, second person point of view, no use of y/n, Reader is very sensitive and empathetic, Reader is extremely observant, I think that's basically it.

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: I just started watching Animal Kingdom, so of course I'm writing a fic. I'm only on season two so, I did my best not to really include any timeline relevant shit. Anyways, I really like this fic. (More Dustin fics will be coming I SWEAR. I've just gotten a little burnt out so gimme a little bit.) Love y'all!!

ᡕᠵデᡁ᠊╾━ ⌖ ⁠♡

You were close with Andrew, some may even consider you friends. You talked, hung out, he let you vent to him…but he never vented to you. He never said anything about himself and he was sure you wouldn’t notice. Most people are too self-centered to care much when someone else won’t talk about themselves.

But you weren’t most people. You were…you. You were sweet like sugar, kinder than anyone he’s ever known, and not in the fake way. Not in the way that Smurf was, kind in order to receive something in return at some point.

You were just kind because that’s who you were. It wasn’t even that you wanted to be kind, you were cursed to be unnecessarily caring and understanding. You were empathetic to a fault, feeling everyone’s pain as your own…so much so that you would spiral. Andrew remembers the first time he witnessed it…he could never forget.

“Hey.” You hear his voice call out to you, muffled and warbled. You feel like you’re fucking drowning. “I was knocking for like fifteen minutes…you okay?” He finally rounds the bed to crouch down in front of you. Your face is mostly covered by the blanket, only your teary eyes being visible. “Hey…” He reaches out, voice gentle in a way no one but you had ever heard.

“They killed him.” You choke out, holding back another wave of tears.

“Who?” His brows knit together.

“A police officer.” Andrew feels his heart lurching. “He was…he was patrolling or something. He had a wife and kids, he was an incredible officer. I hate cops but he…he was good.” You swallow. “And they killed him…ran him over with their fucking truck.” Andrew couldn’t believe it. Some man you’ve never met or seen in person a day in your life…and you were sobbing in bed because he’d died.

You were inconsolable, rotting in bed for two days until he finally came by your apartment.

“I saw it on the news.” Is all he replies with. He climbs into bed with you and holds you close while you cry. For the first time in his life, he truly feels guilty. He’s felt guilt, but never enough to make him crack…cave and tell the truth. You were different, you made him different. The words almost fell past his lips multiple times…this was dangerous.

So yes…you were kind. You were gentle with him and comforted him so easily. It seemed so effortless when you did it, so natural. You never had to try, never had to force it. You held him in a way he’d only ever dreamed of. The way you made him feel was…scary.

Andrew had liked people before, dated before. He loved Cathrine since they were children, he knew love. Until he met you that is, because what he felt for you surpassed every other feeling he’s experienced.

He loved you.

So he knew he had to let you go.

Only his version of ‘letting you go’ was really just pushing you away. He fell away and ignored you, pretended he was busy. You bought it for a while, until you didn’t. That was another thing he loved about you, you were smart. Not book smart in particular, but people smart. You saw things no one else did, understood things no one else could…which is what made him consider telling you everything.

That was another thing he’d never experienced. The need to be completely honest, to spill his guts to you. He wanted to tell you everything he’s ever done or witnessed, and he wanted to tell you how it made him feel. He didn’t want to give you the dumbed down version either, he wanted to tell you exactly how he had been hurting.

He thought he’d gotten rid of you, everyone in his family did. They pat him on the back and told him it was the right thing to do. They didn’t see how horrible it was for him, how broken he was…but you would have, and you did.

“Andrew!” You scream, making him whip his head back, locking eyes with you. You’ve been crying, a lot. Your eyes are red and swollen, lips plump and extra pink, the tip of your nose rosy like Rudolph’s.

He was ready for you to scream at him, belittle him and call him an asshole. He braced himself for your harsh words, but they never came.

You walk up to him, reaching him in only a few strides. He flinches, ready for the worst.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, voice sweet as ever.

“What?” He asks, voice cracking.

“What’s wrong?” You ask again, reaching out to grab his face in your hands. “You’ve been drifting away, pulling back. I see the way your face shifts, holding back tears.” How could you possibly notice that? “If there’s something I did or said, you can tell me. I can try to fix it or if it isn’t fixable then at least I know why you’re pulling away.”

You’re unbelievable…truly unbelievable.

“You didn’t do anything.” He answers simply.

“Then what is it? Does it have to do with your family?” Andrew’s eyes widen just a fraction.

“Why do you think it’s about them?”

“Anytime I mention them you flinch. Your eyes twitch and your bottom lip trembles a few times before you stop it.” You really did notice everything. “Anytime you talk about them yourself, your voice lowers. You sound rougher, angrier. Your jaw clenches and your teeth grit together, which is really bad for them by the way.” The way you slip the comment in makes him smirk.

“How do you notice things like that?”

“Born that way, you know that.” He nods slowly, he did know that. “Talk to me, Andy…you know you can.”

“I can’t.” His voice breaks, gently pulling your hands away from his face.

“Did they do something?” He simply shakes his head, looking away. “Did they say something?” Another shake of his head. “Is this about the whole crime thing?” You question. His eyes go bulging wide as he stares back at you, mouth hanging open slightly.

“How did you-“ He trails off, watching you like you’re the most amazing thing he’s ever seen.

“The dozens of vehicles in your garage. Boats, bikes, cars. The giant fucking house and all the nice furniture. How careful they are when talking about their jobs, and yours. All their voices catch the slightest bit when they lie, including yours. Anytime they talked about your guys jobs, lives, pasts…voices would catch.” Andrew watches you still, head shaking in awe.

“Janine always offers money, always tries to buy her way through. You all have an edge to you too…” You pause. “A certain…vibe I guess. You’re all tough and secretive, sly and cunning. All signs point to criminals…for lack of a better word.” You wince when the word leaves your lips, shaking your head.

“Why are you still here?” He asks quietly. You don’t have to ask what he means, because you always know.

“Because I don’t care.” You scoff, like the answer was so obvious. It was obvious, but he wasn’t hopeful enough to let himself see it. “I love you, Andy.” Your voice wavers, tears gathering in your eyes. “I don’t care what you do, or what your family does. All I care about is being with you, taking care of you when you won’t do it yourself…talking to you when you need it, helping you.”

“You’re too good.” He shakes his head with a smile.

“So are you…you just don’t show it all the time. It isn’t obvious, or out in the open. You’re so kind but you hide it, don’t make a big deal out of it.” You notice so many things he’s always overlooked, things everyone’s always overlooked.

“That’s why I love you, Andy. You’re a better person than you think. You aren’t who you envision yourself to be, who you think everyone else sees. I see you, good and bad, I see it all…” His eyes are watering now. You don’t point it out, you don’t wipe away his tears because you know it would make him toughen up again, lock away his emotions. “And I still love you, with everything I have.”

“I love you too.” And he did, he always did. How could he not love you when you were just so kind? So observant and understanding, so smart and generous, so empathetic and honest? He couldn’t not love you. You dragged him in with your charm, and you kept him with your love and unwavering devotion.

[weathervanenews]

Am I the only one thinking isaac is definitely a munch after his time as a zombie

content/warnings: smut 18+, fem!reader, oral (female receiving), obsessive!dark!Isaac, dubcon references, praise, orgasm denial, light spanking, manipulation. a\n notes: After his time as a zombie? Babe. He was a munch way before that... | masterlist

* no one can convince me that Isaac’s love language is not acts of service. My evidence to the point being what he was willing to do for his sister, the fact he was willing to give up that dream to save Tyler instead of her because it is what she wanted AND that Gomez had to constantly stop people exploiting his genius.

* that boy, when in ‘love’ (or whatever that feels like to him), would do anything for his lover.

* Isaac worships you. the way you talk, the way you move, even when you're annoyed with him. especially when you're annoyed with him.

* it happens a lot when he is in his lab for sure. it’s his way of taking a break, or letting out some of his frustration if something isn’t going quite right.

* it’s not just love. it’s fixation. he's insatiably obsessed. you’re his muse, his addiction, his religion.

* Isaac pretends to be stoic and unreadable, but every time you wear a shorter skirt, his gaze drops and lingers. He’s terrible at hiding his obsession with you.

“You keep doing that on purpose, don’t you?” “Doing what?” Isaac pulled you into his lap roughly, parting your thighs across his lap, holding you up against his chest with his powers alone. “It seems to me that you have forgotten your place, hm?” The hand on your thigh squeezed roughly, his clipped nails digging into your skin as you shook your head fervently,  “N-no! I haven’t.”  He tutted, once again striking the meat of your thigh when your legs closed instinctually around his hand, desperate for him to touch you properly. “Really?” his voice purred in your ear, low and husky. “Distracting me? Taunting me? Have you forgotten who you are dealing with?”

* he is a messy eater - he does it for his own pleasure as much as yours - completely burrying his head between your thighs.

* he needs to see you fall apart, and he’s so annoyingly good at it.

“Say you’re mine,” he whispered against your flesh, right before he dragged his tongue slowly up your thigh, savouring the salt of your sweat, it caring that the slick that now coated his cheeks smeared across your skin. "I-I'm yours, Isaac. F-fuck—" “Say it again.” "All y-yours—"

* he loves to take his time. tongue dragging, teasing, like he’s savoring every reaction. He’s methodical. but when you’re close? he's ruthless. tongue and fingers in sync, an invisible force pressing against your throat just enough to make your head fuzzy. practically growling into you as he slowly loses his mind.

* he hates to be rushed. he takes his time like he’s savoring a work of art.

“I-I’m gonna, fuck– please, Isaac.”  He tutted as his fingers stilled, resting heavy against your fluttering walls as his lips rolled from your clit with a pop. You could have screamed, the water building on your lower lashes finally falling as you sobbed, making a futile attempt to buck your hips and rut against his palm. “Tell me when it fades,” he ordered, leaving his fingers deadly still as he cupped your sex, gripping you but refusing to move a muscle. “Remember, I know when you lie.”  Pulling in a shuddering breath you tried your best to calm yourself, sniffling a little and closing your eyes as you tried to bring yourself back from the edge, willing your cunt to stop squeezing around his digits.  “Okay,” you huffed quietly, pulling your lips back between your teeth again. “Good girl.” He brought his lips to your thigh again, pressing fleeting kisses to your skin as a small reward.

* there’s a small notebook hidden under his mattress filled with dark thoughts, drawings of you in various stages of undress, and very detailed descriptions of the things he’s done to you… and the things he still wants to do.

* if he could, he’d keep you hidden away just for him. the idea of someone else seeing you come undone makes him sick with rage.

* he gets off on the idea that he’s ruined you for anyone else. that no one will ever be able to satisfy you like he can.

* he marks you up on purpose – thighs, hips, throat – anywhere only he can. If you complain, he gets this calm but chilling look.

Isaac's mouth was hot against your throat, all lips and teeth and drool, nipping and sucking at the skin desperately as his fingers burried themselves in your cunt. The sound was obscene. Your slick was practically dripping down onto the desk below you, positively squelching as he rutted his curled fingers up against your front wall, the pressure growing so quickly that you thought you might pass out.  "Isaac, stop–" you tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck weakly, only for an invisble hand to tug it away, pinning it to the desk beside you, "–I can't cover those up." He tutted as his fingers stilled, resting heavy against your fluttering walls. “If they know you’re mine, they’ll leave you alone.”

* he’ll do it even when you say no. not in a forceful way, but in a “you’re tired” or “not in the mood” kind of way. he knows your body better than you, or so he believes. He insists he can make you feel good, and he always proves it.

* post coming back to life, he only gets worse. he craves it on a carnal level. everything about it is heightened, the taste of you so much more intense that it becomes like a drug, giving him as much life as the brains did.

His fingers dug into your cheeks roughly, forcing your eyes to meet his. His tongue flicked over his lip quickly, relishing the way you practically trembled under his touch. “Now, now, dove. Don’t you want me to get stronger? Hmm?” You have your best attempt at a nod in his grasp, the pads of his fingers digging into your cheekbone. The grin that tugged at his lips was sickly sweet as he held you firmly in place, breath fanning your cheek as he leaned in, blackened tongue dragging up your cheek slowly before his voice dropped to a register only you could hear. “Atta girl, so good for me, even now…”

I chose not to use tags for smut 📍

[notsodelirious]

Dog days are over

you can tell my summatives are coming up because I’m giving you guys two fics in two days 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯 enjoy!

synopsis: one fight and a stray curse later, you’re dogsitting your very cute but very fluffy boyfriend for a while

notes: gen! ♡ and gn!reader, there is a mildly insistent man who calls the reader a bitch at some point though

tags: fluff, Jason is a GSD, gn!reader, mildest hurt/comfort, crack treated seriously, established relationship, Jason is a sweetheart, wc: 4.5k

You weren’t often rudely awakened by the feeling of something dropping onto your chest.

You groaned as you blinked open dry eyes, attempting to roll onto your side only to feel strong arms wrap around your middle.

“Hello?” your voice still croaky from sleep—you looked down as you rubbed your face, half-heartedly glaring at the offending party as he buried his face in your stomach.

Jason’s damp hair dripped onto your sleep shirt, forming a wet patch until he looked up at you, dragging the wetness down with the movement.

“Hi.”

“Did you just get back from patrol?” you asked as you reached over to turn on the light on your bedside table, bathing the entire room in a soft yellow glow, washing out the harsh shadows that lurked in the corners under Gotham’s austere moonlight.

You ran your hand through Jason’s hair, gently combing apart knots with your fingers; no, your annoyance hadn’t truly dissipated, being woken up at—you checked the alarm on your bedside—2.34 AM when you’d worked the entire past day wasn’t your idea of a good night’s rest but you couldn’t fault Jason all that much.

Hell, some small corner of your heart warmed at the sight of him lying so comfortably against you. It was leagues better than the nights you would wake to your own dreams and find your bed empty. Sometimes loving Jason was a very lonely affair.

You could only cherish the moments it wasn’t.

“Yeah,” he kissed the heel of your palm as you cupped his face, your thumb tracing over a small cut on his cheek—it was almost unnoticeable, mostly like the consequence of him hitting his head against something than it was some terrible injury. He hadn’t even flinched when you’d brushed against it, but still; you couldn’t help but file away every bruise, every nick and scratch that appeared on your boyfriend.

Just because it was a product of the job didn’t mean you had to accept it.

“We were fighting a magician.”

“Really?” you answered, with all the enthusiasm and alertness that you would use when a toddler told you their crazy story. “That must have been so scary, babe.”

You watched as Jason blinked up at you then his face fell before he pinched your side. Your yelp and laughter were both a little too loud for that time of night—you pressed your hand against your mouth to muffle your own sounds.

“I can’t believe you mock me,” he sighed dramatically before pressing his face back into your stomach, “My confidant, and yet you laugh.”

“You woke me up at half past 2 in the morning to tell me about your magician,” you reached back down to scratch the nape of his neck, watching him curl into the touch a little bit, “It couldn’t have waited?”

“Thought you’d get a kick out of knowing that Tim got turned into a rabbit during that fight.”

You slapped your hand over your mouth again as you snorted, loud enough to make the back of your throat hurt. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jason said as he shuffled around to slip under the covers to cuddle closer to you, “Dick asked us to hang back—Tim heard circle the enemy and attack from the back and got blasted in the face. Now he’s a bunny.”

“Is there a counter spell?” you asked. You felt more than saw Jason shrug his shoulders, at least from the way he wrapped himself around you, his thumb sneaking under the hem of your shirt to brush against your bare skin.

There were days Jason couldn’t stand physical touch, days when he couldn’t even fathom being near someone, let alone touching their bare skin if it weren’t life or death. But there were also days where he was ready to crawl into your skin—granted those days aren’t mutually exclusive, it wasn’t as if there were many people he wanted to cuddle so closely.

You were the only one with that special privilege.

That being said you’d never been able to differentiate those days just at a glance. You’d always let him come to you.

Your hand drifted from the back of his neck down the collar of his t-shirt, the pads of your fingers gently brushing against the large, scarred expanse of his back.

“So what, he’s just gonna stay a bunny forever?”

“Zatanna says it’ll wear off in like 48 hours,” Jason said, “Which is why I had to wake you up to tell you. Wanted to tell you before he became just a rat again.”

“Oh haha, okay,” you smiled before you leaned down to kiss the top of his head. “You’ve told me about bunny-Tim. Can I go back to sleep now?”

Jason just looked up at you again.

“I can’t believe you hate me.”

“When the fuck did I say that?”

You woke to warmth and the soft grey sunlight of the Gotham skies pooling through your window, seeping through your curtains. Lying there with your eyes closed is all you could really do as Jason continued to sleep peacefully on you, pinning you down unless you were willing to wiggle out from under him, undoubtedly waking him in the process.

You acknowledged he had rudely awakened you just the previous night but you couldn’t find it in your heart to do the same, even if you knew he would just greet you sleepily and roll over to go back to sleep.

Eventually, however, the need to pee won out and you began to rise, rubbing the ball of your thumb against your eye.

Only to earn a disgruntled yelp.

“What the actual fuck?” In place of your very distinct, very large and tall boyfriend lying across your body, is a German Shepherd—which you want to qualify as larger than average but you aren’t a dog expert, how were you to know?

There was a dog in your bed and you did not own a dog.

Your immediate thought is that it broke in—most likely lost or a runaway because other than being disgruntled about being woken up, it was far from hostile—it hadn’t even growled at you, it just lay, almost defeated on its side as you scrambled to a stand to get away from the strange dog.

There was a split second where you’d considered if Jason had brought in a stray last night without telling you and it had snuck into the bedroom. But Jason wasn’t the impulsive type—a bleeding heart? Yes, but you would have at least gotten a late-night phone call about it.

Your second thought was bunny Tim.

“Jay?” you called tentatively, and watched in amusement and despair as the dog’s ears perked up and it- he raised his head from the bed to look at you, fluffy tail wagging softly at the recognition.

“Ah. Shit.”

You tried to go about your morning as smoothly as possible with a Shepherd dog at your heels, seemingly intent on tripping you up at every turn. Somehow as a dog, Jason watched you with an even closer eye—not that he hadn’t followed you to the bathroom to continue a conversation before but very rarely, if ever, did he sit down in front of you as you sat on the toilet.

“Do you have to?” you asked, which only resulted in a soft bark.

He sat with you as you brushed your teeth, changed, cooked breakfast—like he made it his life’s mission to trip you up.

But would then get offended when he did.

You ended up doing the only thing you could think to do in this situation, which was obviously to call Bruce.

"What do you mean wait it out?" you sighed as you leaned against the counter, steaming mug in one hand, phone cradled against your ear in the other as you stared down at what used to be your boyfriend, now panting and dribbling drool on your kitchen tiles. “He's a dog.”

"The curse bears no lasting effects after it wears off," Bruce said, the low, smoothness of his voice becoming ever so irritating in this moment, "Just keep him comfortable."

"How?" You heard the pause and the shuffling of papers on the other side of the line.

"Like you would any other dog," Bruce said, “Walk him, play with him, keep him fed. He'll be back in 48 hours, at most.”

"That's a long time to dog sit," you tried to argue but the phone just went dead on the other end before the screen mockingly displayed that the call, had in fact, been ended.

You sighed before setting your mug on the counter and crouching, eye-level with Jason who took that as an invitation to walk into your arms and lick your face.

"Looks like it's just you and me buddy," you mumbled as you loosely wrapped your arms around the furry body against yours. It felt odd, talking to your boyfriend like this but well, at least you weren't baby-talking him. “Also between you and me, your dad is kind of a dick.”

Jason yipped. Maybe he was more lucid than you'd first given him credit for.

You didn't want to admit that it took you an embarrassing amount of time to realise that even if he was just your shapeshifted boyfriend, Jason probably still needed to go for a walk. It was only after he'd sniffed the entire apartment twice and had started chewing on an old pair of trainers that you finally decided that you both needed some fresh air.

"You gotta promise you won't make a run for it," you said, holding the German Shepard's fluffy cheeks in your hands. The pup whined softly before licking your face, which had this point you had come to expect when you put your face just a little too close to his. "I'm being so serious," you said as you ruffled his cheeks, "I don't have a collar for you. If you run away I'm gonna cry, dude."

You got another slobbery kiss and decided that was enough confirmation and shrugged on your coat.

The weather in Gotham was very rarely anything to write home about; it ranged from mild and cloudy to pouring rain, only varying in shades of grey. You could only be thankful that the skies were covered but so far, no sign of rain—because you didn't know if you were a qualified enough dog owner to give Jason a bath yet.

But he'd probably be fine with it… right?

You looked down at the massive dog trotting by your side as you deliberated, watching as he split off just a little from his perfect heel to go sniff a bush—you waited patiently for him to come back to you before continuing down the quiet road to the park that you knew existed just a couple of blocks from your house.

You were thankful that so far it didn't seem that Jason was too skittish of a dog: you'd seen dog owners struggle to stop their dogs from lunging and barking at cars and buses, or stuffing strangers' asses, or growling at every dog they walked past. But Jason just… didn't really seem to care. He occasionally glanced up at you, panting goofily before confirming that you were indeed paying attention to him before looking down at the path before him. Sure, he took interest in the birds and squirrels that flit past, but he never chased—he just watched them go before looking up at you, like confirming that you'd just seen that happen too.

The park was virtually empty, and you were thanking whatever deity was looking after you that day.

"Jason?" His head snapped up towards you, and you couldn't help the smallest smile as Jason gave you a quiet bark in response. Yeah, this wasn't the most ideal situation but Jason's cute little face was hard to stay mad or stressed at. "You'll come back if I call you, right?" Another soft bark, you didn't think it was typical of dogs to answer this much but you rolled with it.

"Alright, well, have fun, I guess." Jason looked up at you with his big dumb eyes and oh, he was so fucking cute but you needed him to go explore. It was blissfully empty and you wanted to take advantage of that. It took a little more encouragement before Jason began to let himself wander, still occasionally looking back at you to confirm you were still where he had left you before going back to sniffing his bush.

You made the bold decision of deciding to move a little towards the bench that was not fifteen feet away from you. Jason's head snapped towards you, his eyes visibly tracking you until you settled down and he was reassured that you were still within his line of sight before he began doing his rounds again.

What an absolutely insane morning: which you think you'd been handling prettily well all things considered. You'd never had a dog, the closest you'd ever gotten to one was walking your friends' dogs with them but you never had to be the one to interact with them. You were so perfectly fine just appreciating from a distance.

But now your boyfriend was one. A very cute one mind you, and clearly loyal to a fault but still a dog nonetheless. And you were quickly discovering just how much drool and staring could be involved.

You were so far lost in thought that you hadn't noticed the man walking down the path until he was practically in front of you. You mumbled an awkward greeting as you leaned away, weirdly conscious of how much space you were taking up as he slowed in front of you. Hunched over, you were eye-level with his hip, but letting your eyes trail up, you realised this was just a random businessman. Which you supposed made sense—you weren't too far from the business quarter, and it was rapidly approaching midday. Maybe he was going on lunch break? You didn't really care.

"Saw you sitting here all alone," the man said as he passed his briefcase from one hand to the other. "Thought I'd come say hi."

"Oh," you blinked, a little baffled at the sudden approach before saying, "Thanks. But I'm all good actually."

"It's no issue at all," the man said, and you frowned, not only at the insistence but the odd angle you were holding your head at—the sky was overcast but the sky and clouds were still bright. He had you squinting up at him, you couldn't properly see his face against the bright glare and the awful angle. He was so damn close to you, another step forward and his legs would be against yours.

"I said I'm fine," you near-snapped. You'd just gotten over the surprise and stress of this morning, you didn't need this.

"I'm only offering to keep you company."

"And I said you could fuck off-"

A low growl cut you off.

Jason circled the man, body low to the ground, hackles raised and teeth bared. He stalked closer, forcing the man backwards, step by step, the threat in his movements loud and clear.

"What the fuck?!" The man stumbled backwards when Jason snapped, clearly moving too slow for the pup's liking, "Who's fucking dog-?!"

Jason slotted himself between you and the man, planting himself between your feet, growing louder and louder with every bark, even garnering the attention of the few park-goers that lingered around.

With a small smile, you patted Jason's shoulder—it probably wasn't the sort of behaviour you should be encouraging, some may even call it resource guarding or whatever, but you didn't really care in that moment.

"Good boy," you cooed softly, scratching just under his ear—Jason's barking didn't stop but his ears perked up, giving you just enough room to pet him properly.

"The stupid mutt is yours?"

"Yeah. And he's saying you should probably leave."

The man backed away further, a mumble on his lips that sounded suspiciously like "stupid bitch".

"Jason?"

Jason lunged.

The terrified squeal of this full-grown man would make you laugh for years to come. He nearly tripped over himself scrambling away from your Shepard—you hoped somebody at his big boy firm asked him why his suit was muddied and ripped. You'd never seen a grown man bolt away so fast from a dog, but the moment he was out of sight, Jason looked over his shoulder to give a dopey grin.

"You're the best," you said before planting a kiss right between his fluffy ears, which earned you a delighted yip. "Come on, let's go find some other bushes for you to sniff."

 The rest of your walk was thankfully uneventful. You crossed paths with a couple of other dogs but Jason seemed relatively uninterested in them, occasionally giving them a cursory sniff before heading off to do his own thing. It was a couple of hours before you'd manage to circle all the way back to the main gate, and by then, the skies were getting darker, the clouds were plump and heavy and you were starting to wish that Jason would get bored of the nth bush and be ready to go home now.

But he'd found a lizard and had become absolutely enamoured with the concept of such a small living creature, he apparently just had to study it.

"Jay!" He stopped nudging the terrified lizard with his big, wet snout to look up at you instead, "We gotta go, dude. It's gonna start raining."

Jason's little 'arf' would have been adorable if he hadn't immediately followed it up with nudging the lizard with his paw to watch it bolt away from him with stunning speed. It scuttled back into whatever hole it was calling shelter and once it was out of sight, Jason decided that now he could follow your lead.

 But it was too late.

 You could already feel fat raindrops splattering against the top of your head. You could only pray that you'd be fine. That you'd be able to beat the weather and make it home relatively dry and you wouldn't have to deal with a messy, sopping wet German Shepard. You only lived a couple of blocks away.

This was doable, right?

"How are you muddy?!" Jason sat his fluffy ass down on your welcome mat, panting happily, his entire hind quarter caked in mud. "We walked down a city street! Where did you find mud?"

"Arf!"

"Great."

You were going to kill Bruce. Just keep him comfortable my ass.

"Are you going to let me give you a shower?"

"Arf!"

 Dog-Jason was a liar. Trying to get an almost 90-pound dog into your tiny Gotham apartment bathtub was such a challenge. Especially when said dog insisted on pushing against the tub walls with his freakishly strong legs, whining and hollowing the whole time. It only took 15 minutes for you to win the tussle, and even then, he was still trying to scramble out of the bath like you'd thrown him into the soup cauldron instead.

And he'd gotten mud all over your bathroom.

So you don't really know if you won the fight, but step one had been completed. You just had to complete the seven other tasks while keeping him put.

"It really isn't that bad, bud," you said, kissing his head every so often as his whining slowly grew louder and louder. You'd even tested the water to see if it was burning him—it wasn't, he was just a pussy. A pussy who didn't enjoy having the mud scrubbed off him and was making it so very known to you and all your neighbours. You tried to give him the most cursory of shampooings, but it was one solid way of discovering how awful it actually tasted.

"Fine! Fine! We're done!"

You shut off the water and backed away, giving Jason enough room to hop out of the bathtub and shake off, soaking you and the walls more than they already were. You pulled a towel off the rack—Jason's towel—and crouched, holding your arms open as an invitation. And Jason did pad forward, timidly at first, almost as if he were afraid you'd another showerhead out of nowhere. Or maybe you had simply destroyed his trust forever and he'd never been able to see you in the same light again after you'd cruelly forced him to be washed.

But he did walk up to you, and solidly planted a paw in your face, making you topple backwards onto your ass. Which he took as the perfect opportunity to tackle you down to the ground, leaving slobbery kisses all over your face.

"Eww! Jason! Get off!"

It took a couple of tries but eventually, you got him to back away just enough to sit up and wipe your face, and do a half-assed job at wiping him down so he wasn't dripping shower water all over your apartment.

"Are you sure Zatanna can't come down and do something about this?" You held the phone between your ear and shoulder as you set down the bowl of water and improvised dog food before shuffling aside and sitting down, watching Jason scarf down the entire thing—it was just some chicken and carrots soaked in bone broth, but you were suddenly so glad regular-Jason was such a weird chef. "I kinda want my boyfriend back."

"She's busy," Bruce said gruffly, "Tim hasn't shifted back either but he's showing more human tendencies. We're thinking the spell might actually only last for half the time Zatanna estimated."

"Amazing," you mumbled as you rolled your eyes, "So I have what, ten, twelve hours left of this?"

"You can handle it."

"No, I can't Bruce. I've never had a fucking dog. A little help-" There was no answer from the other side. The line went dead. "Fan-fucking-tastic."

You sighed, slumping against the wall, letting your phone clatter against the tiled floor. Jason looked up, whining softly, a sound you had almost gotten used to at this point. He shuffled closer to you, nudging your cheek with his nose, the cold, wet feeling of his snout against your skin making you shiver a little.

"It's not your fault," you mumbled as you scratched the top of his head, "You're lovely. I didn't mean to make you sound like a handful. I just want my boyfriend back."

Jason whined again before settling down, resting his head on your lap, looking up at you with wide eyes—it was a little unnerving to have a dog stare you down with such pale eyes, but at least there was some part of your boyfriend still in there.

The thought did occur to you, in fleeting moments of panic, that just maybe Zatanna's predictions would be wrong and Jason wouldn't turn back into his old self. Which wasn't fair, and a little insane, but… you'd definitely thought it.

And as you stared into the boy's eyes, you couldn't help the fresh wave of panic.

"Sorry," you sniffled as you wiped your face on your sleeve. Jason whined softly and nuzzled the hand that was still petting him, giving you cautious licks. "I'm sorry. It's fine. It's really not that bad. You're really sweet. I just don't-" You wiped your face against before cupping his fuzzy cheeks.

"I kinda want my boyfriend back. I love him very much and I miss him."

The thump thump thump of Jason's tail wagging against the floor was cute enough to make you crack a small smile but the tears still pearled down your face. You should have seen it coming, when Jason stood and put his face really close to yours—but somehow you still let out an undignified yelp as Jason licked your cheek, the sweetest version of comfort you'd be receiving right now.

Jason ducked his head, and carefully between his very small front teeth, latched onto your sleeve and tugged, slowly growing more insistent with every tug before you finally caved and stood, stooping so he could properly lead you all the way to the bedroom.

"Let me change first," you said, petting him between the ears before doing just that—Jason obviously watched the entire time, eyes trained on you like a hawk, or like you would disappear the moment he blinked.

You settled into bed, lifting the covers so Jason could follow behind you. He waited for you to lie down before resting his entire weight on top of you, placing his cute little face on your chest before sighing softly, like this had been a tiring and stressful day for him too.

"You know, you're still a little damp," you said, playing with his long ears, pulling them back just to watch them pop back up, "I'm going to have to deep clean the entire apartment when you're back to normal."

"Arf!"

"You're right. I should make you do it. I already had to wash your muddy ass."

Your complaints only got you more kisses.

 You didn't remember the moment you passed out.

You do remember waking up to a shaggy mess of dark hair on your chest.

"Holy shit!"

"What!"

You rolled, hugging Jason to your chest. And maybe misjudging just how much space you had on the bed.

You tumbled to the floor, dragging your boyfriend and the covers down with you, landing on him with a heavy thud.

"Fucking- good morning to you too," Jason grumbled as he rubbed his eyes, looking up at you from where you had him pinned on the floor, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"You're back!"

"I never left?"

You blinked at him. "You mean… You don't remember?" You went limp, dropping down onto his chest with a loud groan. He didn't remember. Anything.

He'd been magically cursed for a whole 24 hours and he didn't remember any of it.

You felt strong arms wrap around you and Jason softly kissed the crown of your head, before very very gently, cupping your chin to make you look up at him.

"What am I supposed to be remembering?" he said softly, "I came back from patrol with that weird magician and now we're on the floor?"

"What-? No. No, no, yesterday you were- EWW JASON!" Jason licked a fat stripe up the side of your face. Before falling into peals of laughter as you wipe your face, betrayal etched into your expression. "You son of a bitch you do remember!"

"Never try to wash my ass for me again."

I found this fic while I was sorting out the fics I hadn’t logged into my spreadsheet and after showing it to my friend decided I kinda had to finish it and I think it’s cute so tada!

anyway ♡ more from me here (masterlist + wips list ❀˖°) — for requests please check this post ✧˖° thank you (my masterlist hasn’t been updated in a hot minute, please bear with me)