athenalvss

[athenalvss]

I don't know why (I know) but I feel like, I want to write about Logan, although I don't know that much about the character, I'm through my X-Men phase again, you can send requests if you want, maybe I can feel inspired

[athenalvss]

I was watching X-Men (2000) HOW HOT WAS LOGAN HOOOT HOW I NEVER REALIZED

[athenalvss]

Reader having a panic attack/anxiety attack and Dick Grayson by her side 💖🥺 pleasee

I'M HERE WITH YOU ( Dick grayson! )

summary | When a terrible situation happens on patrol, Dick is there to take care of you.

pairing | Dick grayson x vigilante!fem reader

cw | panic attack, blood, dead

dick masterlist

Nights on patrol in Blüdhaven were usually quiet until they weren't. The rain had begun to fall with the subtlety of a murmur, sliding down the rooftops and asphalt, blurring the neon lights. You had accompanied Dick on dozens of patrols before, but that night it felt heavy, and the rain made all the work difficult. You knew it when the sound of hurried footsteps broke the silence, and the chase began.

The man you were chasing had led you two through a chaotic race of alleys, rooftops, and fire escapes. He was fast, desperate, as if he knew he had no other way out. You ran after Dick, your heart pumping with the adrenaline of the chase, your boots thumping on the rusted metal with each leap.

Until it was all over in a second.

The fugitive missed the final jump, it seemed like it was all in slow motion as you saw him slip, his fingers barely grazing the edge before he fell, and his scream broke in the air, followed by a loud thud against the pavement, making the silence that followed even worse.

You froze. From the ledge, your eyes stared at the motionless body. The blood was slowly expanding in the darkness, and suddenly the world began to close in on you. The air seemed to leave you suddenly; your chest burned, and you couldn't breathe.

Your hands shook uncontrollably. Your throat tightened like an impossible-to-untie knot, and your lungs seemed to refuse to obey. The sound of the rain turned into a deafening hum, and the image of the body on the ground kept repeating itself in your mind. The blow. The blood.

"No..." Dick's voice came as a distant call at first, but insistent, until it became clearer.

You felt your vision blur, black spots appearing at the edges. Your legs were shaking so much your body felt like it was about to give way. Then, suddenly, firm hands grabbed your shoulders. Suddenly, Dick was in front of you. He didn't step down until he was sure you were there first. He crouched down at your level on the roof, blocking your view of the alley with his body.

"Hey, look at me, baby, look at me." His tone was firm, but not harsh; an anchor in the panic that was dragging you down.

You tried to obey, but your eyes inevitably sought to return to the edge of the building, to the scene you couldn't get out of your mind. Dick noticed, and with a warm, firm but careful hand, he cupped your cheek to force you to focus solely on him.

“Breathe with me” he whispered, leaning close enough for the rain falling on his mask to slide down onto you. He took a deep breath, puffing out his chest. “Come in… one, two, three… now let it out with me.”

Your lungs struggled, your breath coming in gasps, but his blue gaze never let go. He repeated the gesture again and again, patiently, steadily, until your breathing began to follow his, albeit shakily.

"That's it" he murmured, her relief barely audible. "You're here with me. You're not alone."

Your shoulders shook with each exhalation, tears mingling with the cold rain soaking your face. Dick never took his hands off you: one on your cheek, the other squeezing your trembling fingers, as if his strength alone could sustain you.

And then, on impulse, his fingers touched the edge of your mask. He hesitated for only a second before acting, he knew he shouldn't do this, but it was a difficult situation, his eyes searching yours with silent permission, and then he carefully removed it, letting the icy air and rain hit your exposed skin, but the warmth of his hands compensated for the contrast.

"There you are..." he whispered, with unexpected tenderness, his thumb caressing your wet cheek. "Come back to me, I'm here."

Your shoulders continued to heave, each exhalation broken, until you felt the touch of his skin against yours. Dick's thumb moved slowly, brushing away the raindrops and tears as if to erase all traces of what you had just witnessed.

You tried to imitate him again. A ragged breath, then another. Your lips trembled and you felt like you were going to break, but he didn't move away. His forehead leaned down until it was almost touching yours, so close you could see the drops sliding down his eyelashes.

"You're doing well," he murmured, his blue eyes fixed on yours, as if they were your only anchor. "I've got you."

Your fingers tightened around his hand, desperately seeking to hold onto something real, something that wouldn't dissolve like the image of the body on the pavement. And he responded immediately, linking his fingers with yours, reinforcing the pressure like a silent promise.

Your lips trembled, at first wordless, until your voice finally broke, almost a sob.

“No… I can’t, Dick…” you whispered, your throat burning. “I can’t get him out of my head… I saw him… I saw him fall.”

The memory hit you again, and your breathing became erratic again. Dick gripped your hand tighter, forcing you to ground yourself against him.

"Hey... it wasn't your fault," Dick said firmly, though the softness of his voice caressed every word. His thumb continued to trace circles on your cheek, as if he could erase the scene that consumed you.

You shook your head, a sob escaping your lips. “But I saw him… I saw him fall, Dick. And I couldn’t do anything…” Your voice cracked, filled with helplessness.

He brought his forehead even closer to yours, until barely a breath separated you. The rain soaked his dark hair and fell between you, but he was the only solid thing, the only thing that didn't crumble.

"Listen to me," he whispered, his eyes boring into yours. "It wasn't in your hands. What happened was a consequence of his choices, not yours."

Your breathing was still labored, but his words, his gestures, filtered through the chaos in your mind. The warmth of his fingers intertwined with yours was a reminder that you were here, alive, with him.

"I don't want... I don't want you to let me go," you confessed in a barely audible whisper, as if you were afraid to say it out loud.

Dick's heart skipped a beat, but his response was immediate: he squeezed your hand tightly, firmly, and lowered his other hand to surround you protectively, pulling you closer to his chest.

"I won't," he promised, letting the rain mark the oath over them both. "I'll never let you go. I'm here with you..."

[athenalvss]

Bruce 'sadly' giving his shoulder for batmom to cry on because of Oliver's suddent accident......we see you Bruce, good strategy

Bruce seeing how UNFORTUNATELY Oliver died and left his girlfriend alone

[athenalvss]

Hiii, I've been reading your hot wife series for awhile and I absolutely love it, I'm addicted. Do you think you'll be doing the stuff about batmom's past? If you are, I'll be looking forward to knowing what happened with her and Oliver. Do you think you could tell us about how she got with Bruce too? No pressure!

MOM, HOW YOU MET BRUCE? ( batmom! )

summary | Being close to giving birth, the boys Jason and Dick spend time around her, and on a rainy day, both are curious about their mother's past, and how Bruce could have had her.

pairing | Bruce wayne x Wife!reader ; (past relationship) Oliver Queen x fem!reader

note | Why is no one writing Oliver fics? I NEED CONTENT. Also, if I see that you like this part , I have ideas to continue until Bruce and Batmom start dating.

hot wife serie

The afternoon was quiet at Wayne Manor; after all, it was raining, and no one wanted to move from their spot on the couch. Jason, arms crossed, kept glancing at his mother with that natural mix of mischief and curiosity. Dick, for his part, had a fiery look on his face, as if he were about to blurt out something to liven up the afternoon.

"Mom…" Jason began bluntly. "How did you meet Bruce?"

You looked up from the book you were reading in the living room, surprised, and then smiled amusedly before answering. "Why do you ask that question all of a sudden?"

Dick was quick to chime in, a knowing gleam in his eyes. "I told Jason what I found out years ago." He shrugged innocently. "That you and Oliver, you know, were dating..." He said the last words with disgust.

Jason leaned forward, like an accomplice in a prank. "Exactly. So now we want the full story."

She sighed, placing a hand on her stomach in a tired but affectionate gesture. "Always so curious... all right. But don't interrupt me, I know you two."

"Promise," Dick said, although the smile on his face announced that he would break it at any moment.

You slowly closed the book, leaning back in the armchair. And then, with a soft, nostalgic tone, you began. "It was a couple of years ago, we were in Starling City, a very nice night, but unfortunately we had to go to a gala with Oli."

────────

Oliver stood in front of the mirror in his Starling City apartment, adjusting his tie with that confident smile he always wore. I watched him from the doorway, arms crossed, as you finished putting on your earrings.

"Admit it" he said, glancing at me through the reflection. "You're enjoying me in a suit too much."

"Maybe a little," I replied with a mischievous smile. "It doesn't happen every day."

Oliver turned to face me, bowing slightly as if marching. "A little? You're speechless, and that's saying something."

I rolled my eyes, trying to hide my laughter. “Such an arrogant.”

He took a few steps to stand beside me and gently took my hand. "If I look so fancy, it's because I have the best company of the night" he whispered, looking me up and down. "You look so beautiful."

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, even though you were already used to his exaggerated compliments. You bowed slightly, feigning seriousness before him. "Well, someone has to shine next to you."

Oliver laughed and hugged me around the waist, letting me lean against him for a second while he adjusted his jacket. “You know… someday we’re going to get married” he said with a light seriousness, but with his eyes shining with excitement. “I’m never going to let you go.”

You felt a heat spread throughout your body, feeling your body burning with the confession. "And how are you so sure you're not going to leave me?" I murmured, resting my head on his shoulder.

"Because I won't," he said, smiling. "There's no one else I want to be with."

It had been hard work for me to finally allow myself to experience this with Oliver. Before I met him like this, he was the guy who was always surrounded by different girls, the one who seemed to care about nothing but his own charm and fun. Everyone saw him as unattainable, as if his world revolved solely around him.

But all your work had paid off in a big way: seeing how Oliver transformed when he was with you, how his eyes shone differently just for you, how his hands instinctively sought you out when you walked together, how his laughter seemed reserved just for you. Every gesture, every light word, was filled with affection and a security that made you feel like you finally belonged to someone, and that he belonged to you too.

You knew Oliver loved you, and you were more than sure that you loved Oliver Queen with your life.

As you walked together toward the limo, he gently held your arm, and you placed your hand on his, letting the warmth of his touch accompany you with every step. The city sparkled with the lights of the night, making everything seem even more magical.

Upon arriving at the entrance to the gala, a group of photographers and attendants greeted them with flashing lights and murmurs. Oliver, with his confident smile, held you slightly closer, as if silently saying that this night was his alone.

"Come on, give them a cute smile of yours" he whispered.

You smiled, a mixture of amusement and pride, as he took your hand as they crossed the red carpet. The guests looked at them in admiration: Oliver, always the center of attention, seemed to have been somewhat eclipsed by the elegance and confidence you radiated. Every step, every smile, was a silent declaration of how much you loved each other.

As you entered the room, the music and the murmur of the crowd enveloped you, but amidst the gala, you only felt the certainty that you were together, that no one else mattered that night. Oliver guided you confidently, his gestures filled with care and affection, while the cameramen captured every moment of what seemed like a perfect reflection of young and secure love.

In that instant, as they beamed at the guests and shared knowing glances, you knew nothing could erase the connection they had built, and that that night would be one of the many they would remember when they grew older as one of the many happy nights of their lives.

In the same room, surrounded by other members of high society, sat Bruce Wayne. Around him, several women were vying for his attention, chatting, laughing, trying to stand out from the tycoon. However, Bruce barely seemed to notice them; his gaze, for the first time that night, fell on you.

It wasn't often that something or someone managed to attract him like that. There you were, beaming next to Oliver, and something about your presence immediately intrigued him. Every shared laugh, every knowing glance between you two, sparked a curiosity he hadn't expected to feel. For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to be on the other side, what it would be like to have someone look at him like that, knowing that it was all his.

Oliver, oblivious to Bruce's attention, continued to guide you among the guests, making sure you felt comfortable and protected. Bruce, on the other hand, stood there, still, a silent observer, taking note of every detail. He couldn't deny that something about you attracted him, though he didn't yet know what.

It wasn't until an hour later that he had the chance to speak to you. As Oliver walked away a few steps to get a drink, leaving you momentarily alone among the guests, Bruce saw his opportunity. He walked among the guests with that natural elegance that always made him stand out, discreetly pushing aside those around him and never losing sight of your figure. His gaze, intense and calculating, rested on you for a moment before he realized Oliver had moved away.

He stopped a few feet away, just enough to avoid invading your space, and gave you a slight smile. "Good evening," he said, his voice deep and controlled, but with a tone that hinted at interest. "I don't believe we've ever formally met. I'm Bruce Wayne."

────────

"Wait, wait," Dick stopped you for a second before you could continue. "Are you telling me Bruce only dared to go with you when Oliver walked away?"

"Exactly," you replied, amused and a little incredulous. "He didn't mean it rudely or anything, but he did... seize the moment."

Jason couldn't help but laugh. "That doesn't sound very Bruce"

Dick leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms, with that "I told you so" smile. "Now, this is getting interesting... I want to hear how you reacted."

You sighed, smiling at his curious blue eyes. "Well... I wasn't going to ignore him. I introduced myself, we exchanged a few words, nothing too compromising, we met a couple more times at galas, we got along really well, that's all."

Jason frowned, curious. “And Oliver? Did he notice anything?”

"Find out what?" you said, frowning. "Who do you take me for?"

Dick laughed softly, amused by your reaction. "Calm down, Mom, I just want to know if it was all friendly or if there was a spark…"

"Of course it was friendly," you said, crossing your legs and leaning back against the couch. "Nothing too compromising, like I said. Just short conversations, smiles, and an exchange of impressions. Nothing that would affect what I had with Oliver."

Jason rolled his eyes, resigned, but with a mischievous smile. "Sure, 'nothing compromising'" he repeated mockingly. "How many times did you meet again after that night?"

"A couple more times at other galas," you replied, letting your memory return to the events. "Always quick conversations, but we got along really well, like I told you. He was easy to talk to, surprisingly easy."

Dick tilted his head, intrigued. “Wow… so all this was happening while you were with Oliver?”

"Yes," you nodded, amused. "And Oliver never noticed a thing. He was too confident to think I'd even look at anyone else, and it seemed like everything was friendly, so he didn't get upset about anything."

Jason sighed, half frustrated, half amused. "I can't believe Bruce had to get your attention like that."

"Well, believe it or not," you said with a knowing smile. "And that's just the beginning of the story." Your voice lowered a little, more serious. "Our story with Bruce started off horribly, Oli... Oli had an accident one of the times he went out with his father to the sea, and we all thought he was dead..."

────────

The sky was gray, as if the entire world shared your pain. The rain fell finely, persistently, soaking the black umbrellas that covered the mourners. Everything seemed dull, as if the colors had been erased. The coffin in front of you was covered in white flowers, a cruel reminder of what you had lost. You didn't even have a body to mourn, you couldn't say goodbye properly.

Your hands trembled as you clutched the handkerchief, and you felt your breath drain from your lungs with every word the priest spoke. Oliver couldn't be dead; you refused to imagine a life without him. The man who always managed to make you laugh, even on your worst days, couldn't be dead. Not the one who had promised you that you would live a long life together, that you would have a beautiful family, and who, with those beautiful, hopeful eyes, had promised you that one day you would marry.

Tears blurred your vision, and you could barely stand. Every memory stabbed into your chest like a knife: his confident smile, his cheeky jokes, his warm hugs. Everything you were, everything you'd imagined for the future, crumbled with him, gone.

When the ceremony ended and the crowd began to disperse, you stood there, motionless, unable to take a step away from the place, as if Oliver were waiting for everyone to leave so he could surprise you, only you, his beloved girl, as he always told you. The murmur of the people gradually disappeared, but you heard nothing, only the deafening beat of your broken heart.

A footstep behind you broke the silence. You didn't turn around immediately; you didn't have the strength, but you felt it: a strong, confident presence that contrasted with your fragility.

"You shouldn't be left alone," said a deep, calm voice.

You turned around slightly, meeting Bruce Wayne's clear, deep eyes. He was immaculate despite the rain, his expression serious, but his eyes softer than usual.

You didn't respond, your lips trembling as you tried to speak, but no words came out. You just looked down, unable to meet his gaze as your tears fell uncontrollably. Bruce took a step closer, enough to extend an umbrella over you, which he opened, protecting you from the cold water that drenched you.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," he murmured, his tone low and genuine.

The simple gesture, so simple, broke what little resistance you had left. Your body trembled, and the tears flowed even more heavily. Before you could collapse, you felt Bruce place his hand on your shoulder, firm, anchoring you to reality. There were no unnecessary words, just his presence, large and solid, bearing a part of your burden.

You leaned slightly toward him, seeking refuge in the midst of your storm. And for the first time since you received the news, you breathed, even if only a little.

Finally, when your legs threatened to give way, he was the one who held you gently, not taking away your dignity, but not letting you fall.

"Let me take you home," he said firmly, as if it were a decision already made.

You didn't have the strength to argue, or even to nod. You simply let him carefully guide you to the car. The drive was silent, broken only by the sound of rain hitting the glass. There was no need for words; yours were caught in your throat, and Bruce seemed to understand that all you needed was someone to stay there, without demanding anything.

When they arrived at your house, the first thing you felt was the cold emptiness. Everything looked the same, but nothing was. Oliver's coat was still hanging in the entryway, and the faint scent of his cologne still hung in the air. You gasped for breath, and for a moment, you were close to collapsing.

Bruce didn't say anything. He closed the door behind him and headed straight for the kitchen, as if he'd been there before. The sound of the coffeemaker starting filled the room, a simple, everyday gesture that suddenly sustained you more than you'd imagined.

When he handed you the cup, his hands touched yours. Firm, warm. "You have to stay strong," he said slowly, not imposing, but with that certainty that seemed unshakeable in him. "He wouldn't have wanted this for you."

Your hands trembled as you received the cup, and a small shiver ran through your body. You barely managed to nod, speechless, as the aroma of the coffee and the warmth of the drink seemed to calm the turmoil within you a little.

Bruce stood beside you for a few seconds, watching you with a mixture of respect and concern, until he finally leaned towards you slightly.

"You don't have to pretend to be okay," he murmured, with an unexpected softness in his voice. "It's okay to break."

Those words pierced the armor you were trying to maintain, and tears streamed uncontrollably down your face again. There was no reproach in his eyes, no discomfort. He just let you cry, standing there, steadfast, until exhaustion overcame you.

When you woke up, hours later, still in the armchair, you discovered a blanket covering your shoulders. Bruce was still there, sitting in the chair opposite you, silently watching. He said nothing, asked nothing. He just stood there, as if he'd decided to shoulder some of the weight that was weighing you down. When you tried to sit up, the blanket slipped a little, and only then did you realize he hadn't slept at all. His eyes, tired but attentive, stared into yours.

"I didn't want to leave you alone," he said simply, as if his presence were the most natural thing in the world.

That "not leaving you alone" became a constant. In the following days, Bruce stopped by your house more than you'd have expected. Sometimes he didn't say much, just silently accompanying you, fixing something in the kitchen, checking the mail, doing whatever was necessary to maintain a semblance of normalcy in your life. Other times, he took you for a walk, forcing you to get out, even if it was just for a little while, into the fresh air.

The pain was still there, embedded in every corner of the house, but little by little you began to notice how his presence made it more bearable. When your strength faltered, he found a way to support you without making it obvious. He would hand you a glass of water, a blanket, or even turn on the television just to distract you for a couple of minutes. He didn't try to fill the silence; I have respected it. He knew what it was like to lose someone so dear, and it didn't seem like you had someone like he had Alfred. nd it didn't seem like you had someone like he had Alfred.

There were nights when the loneliness became unbearable, and then, as if he knew it was possible, he would appear. He would gently knock on the door and wait for you to open it, without forcing it. He would bring you a steaming cup of coffee or a book, and sit beside you without saying a word. In those moments, you understood that there was no need to speak: his company was enough, an anchor in the storm.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. The pain never completely disappeared, but it began to transform, like a wound that slowly heals while still hurting. And through it all, Bruce was still there. Not as a shadow, not as someone trying to replace what was lost, but as a silent pillar that you learned to recognize as necessary.

There was an afternoon when he broke his own silence and invited you to break away from your routine. "I want you to meet someone," he said, with that serious tone that always left little room for questions. You hesitated, but in the end, you accepted.

You looked at him, confused, because he wasn't a man who easily invited others into his world. "who?" you asked cautiously, wondering if you really had the energy for new people in your life.

He held your gaze, serious, though there was a softer glint in his eyes, as if he were opening a very private door within himself. “someone that. I think it would do you good.”

You accepted his invitation with a slight nod, still somewhat cautious, aware that any step outside your routine was an emotional risk. Bruce didn't say anything else; he simply took your coat and led the way to his car, silently letting each step be accompanied only by the murmur of the city.

The drive to Wayne Manor seemed shorter than you'd imagined. They didn't talk much; Bruce drove with his usual calmness, and you stared out the window, watching the city go by while your thoughts fluctuated between intrigue and nervousness.

When you arrived, the imposing black gate opened and the car pulled up in front of the entrance. The place was majestic, with lights highlighting the classical architecture and the immaculate gardens surrounding the mansion. Even from a distance, you could sense the almost obsessive order of the place, and it never ceased to impress you how everything seemed under control.

Bruce got out of the vehicle first and offered you his hand with that mix of formality and care he always seemed to have. "Let's go in, he's probably waiting," he said gently, not pressuring you, just letting you feel safe.

You walked beside him through the wide, quiet hallways, each footstep echoing lightly on the marble floor. Your eyes scanned the details: old paintings, precisely hung lamps, the sense that every object was placed with a precise purpose. Everything seemed calculated, meticulous… and yet, the calm Bruce radiated made the place feel not intimidating, but rather welcoming in a strange way.

Finally, you two reached a room where a boy with wide, curious eyes was playing with a small mechanical toy. Upon seeing you, he stood still for a moment, assessing your presence with that mixture of shyness and fascination that only children possess.

"This is Dick," Bruce announced, with the same slight nod he used when formally introducing himself. "Dick, she's a friend."

The boy blinked a few times, as if assessing whether he could trust you right away. Then, with a shy smile that gradually became more open, he took a step toward you and gently took your hand.

"Hi" he said in a soft but curious voice. "I like your dress."

You couldn't help but smile at the boy's spontaneity, and instantly felt an unexpected warmth rush through your chest. Your initial shyness disappeared when you saw his genuine enthusiasm.

Bruce stood back, silently observing the interaction. His posture was firm, but his eyes held a satisfied gleam, as if reassured that everything was going well. He knew he would help you through this moment; after all, it was Dick who had saved him on more than one occasion.

Dick chuckled, still with the curiosity and energy of a child, and then looked at Bruce as if seeking approval. "Can we play for a while?" he asked with a mixture of shyness and confidence.

You nodded, feeling the lightness of the moment begin to sink into you, as if for the first time in a long time you could breathe without the weight of pain. Bruce remained close but uninterrupted, allowing you to enjoy the moment while maintaining a silent and discreet watch.

The boy showed you the rules of a game he was clearly eager to play, enthusiastically explaining every detail, and you let yourself go, laughing, asking questions, and sharing in Dick's genuine excitement. His every gesture seemed to remind you that, although the past had left scars, there were still moments of joy that could slowly be rebuilt.

As you shared laughs and small adventures inside the mansion, Bruce watched you, his eyes attentive and calm. His presence was an anchor, not intrusive, but firm; it showed you that you weren't alone, that someone else could help hold up the world as you began to let life enter it again.

That day marked a turning point for you, the first time, after so much darkness, that you felt you could allow yourself to open your heart a little and trust someone who wasn't looking to replace what was lost, but rather to accompany you in the process.

[athenalvss]

Get ready for a new part of Hot Wife, maybe tomorrow, or maybe later today, I don't know.

[athenalvss]

I need to read Oliver Queen fanfics, INEED MY DAILY CONTENT

[athenalvss]

WELCOME TO WAYNE MANOR ( batmom! )

summary | After a round of Gotham City, Bruce finds a lonely boy, and his paternal instincts are triggered by the impending birth of his little girl.

pairing | Bruce Wayne x Wife!reade; platonic! Dick grayson x batmom; platonic! Jason todd x batmom

note | Many thanks to the anon who gave me the idea, idk what I did with the request, i can't find it :(( . Also, I have two more stories prepared: one about how Batmom and Bruce meet, and Clark's interview.

hot wife serie

For weeks, Bruce's mind had been occupied by a single thought: protecting his wife and the unborn child. There were only a few weeks left until his life would undergo a major change, one in which he couldn't afford to make mistakes, and one that would further fuel his desire to improve the city. His instincts, which had always made him wary, were now on full blast.

Each night's patrol felt different. Gotham seemed even more dangerous, every corner hiding a potential threat, every shadow a possible enemy. But what worried him most wasn't the crime, but the possibility that something, anything, could reach the woman sleeping peacefully in their bed, her hands on the belly where his daughter was growing.

That night, when he turned into a dark, damp alley to finally head home, the last thing he expected to find near his Batmobile was a child.

He didn't expect to find anything special in that alley until he heard the metallic screech of a tool against the Batmobile. He moved forward silently, like a predator, until he saw the absurd scene.

A skinny boy, his knobby knees peeking out from under his oversized pants, was kneeling in front of one of the wheels. His small, scraped hands were struggling to loosen a nut with an old wrench.

"Do you know what you're doing?" Bruce's voice rumbled deep and low, and the boy jumped as if he'd seen a monster.

Bruce watched him for a few seconds. He didn't see a thief. He saw a child, one with marked bones, hunger in his eyes and wounds that no one had healed. A child with no opportunities and full of needs that no one was there to properly meet.

The boy, seeing this, tried to play dumb, slipping the wrench behind his back as if the gesture could fool the most observant man in Gotham. His lips twisted in a grimace meant to be cheeky, but it barely concealed the trembling in his hands.

"Me? I wasn't doing anything," he muttered, in the hoarse voice of someone who has shouted too much in the street.

Bruce raised an eyebrow beneath his mask. He took another step forward, and the boy backed away, shrinking against the wheel.

"That 'nothing' was going to mention broken bones. You're not as quiet as you think," he replied calmly. His tone wasn't threatening, but firm, like that of a father reprimanding a son.

Jason clenched his jaw. His pride wouldn't let him give in, even though the fear was evident in his eyes. "So what if I did?" he snapped, a spark of fury barely able to hide the trembling. "No one's going to feed me, you know? I don't care about your fancy car."

Bruce watched him silently. The dirt embedded in his skin, his scraped knuckles, and that old T-shirt that was so loose, either because of its large size or his light weight. He was just a kid, a kid driven by poverty to steal. A cruel reflection of what Gotham did to the vulnerable.

The murmur of rain on the pavement filled the silence. Jason clutched the key tightly behind his back, as if it were his only shield.

"You don't have to keep going like this," Bruce finally said, his deep voice dropping a pitch, almost to a whisper.

The boy frowned, suspicious. "I do," he replied, tersely, defiantly. "No one else is going to do it for me."

Bruce crouched down to his level. His cape brushed the wet ground. His blue eyes met the boy's green ones, and in that instant, Jason saw not Batman, the monster of the streets, but a man. "What's your name?"

The boy hesitated. The answer burned in his throat, as if saying it would make him more vulnerable. Finally, he murmured, “Jason.”

Bruce nodded slowly, and in that silent gesture he made a decision: he wouldn't leave him there. He wouldn't hand him over to the police, he wouldn't abandon him like Gotham had done so many times before.

Jason clenched his jaw, as if simply sharing her name had taken away some of his darkness, and pulled his dirty, worn hood back over his head, averting his gaze. "You told me what you wanted, now what? Are you going to give me up?" he said, his tone heavy with bitter irony.

Bruce watched him silently for a few seconds. There was something inside him, his instinct telling him not to rush. With street kids, every word could be a dagger or a shield. He had to think carefully about his words before saying them. "No, Jason. I'm not going to give you up."

The boy looked at him in disbelief, his lips parted. "So what? You're just going to leave me here?"

Bruce shook his head slowly. "No, I want to give you a chance. I can take you to a place where you don't have to steal to survive. Where you have a bed, food, security."

Jason gave a dry, mirthless laugh. "Why would you do that? Nobody gives anything away for free in this town. There's always a price."

Bruce held her gaze. “The price is simple, trust me.”

Jason shook his head, almost furious. "There's no such thing as that, man. Trust is what gets you killed on the street."

Bruce leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice to an almost intimate tone, still firm. "I know what it's like to have no one. I also know what it's like to live in fear of the next night, of the next person who wants to take advantage. I'm not going to force you—I can't, Jason—but I do want to give you an option Gotham never gave you: a home."

The boy swallowed uncomfortably. His nervous fingers fiddled with the screwdriver he still had in his pocket. "What if I say no?"

"Then I'll leave," Bruce replied without hesitation. "And you'll come back to this corner, to this life. But I don't want that for you. You have something special, Jason. You have guts, you're strong, you can be better than this if you have the chance, it's your choice."

The silence weighed between them. Jason looked down, unable to hold it. His torn shoes were soaked by a puddle he hadn't noticed. He saw his reflection in the water: a skinny, dirty boy with tired eyes. And when he looked back at the man in front of him, he didn't see a caped monster, but someone offering him something he'd never heard from anyone before.

“A… bed?” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

"A bed, a hot meal, clean clothes," Bruce listed firmly, as if painting a picture. "And a place where you're more than just a street kid."

Jason pressed his lips together. His instinct screamed not to trust him, that there was always a trap, but there was something in those blue eyes, in that deep voice, that slowly disarmed him. Why would the great Batman do anything wrong if he spent all his nights watching over the city? Finally, he took a small, uncertain step toward him. Jason took a deep breath and, with a jerky movement, as if afraid of regretting it at any moment, nodded.

Bruce extended his hand. Jason hesitated, eyeing it as if it were a trap, but finally, with trembling fingers, he took it.

Batman's cape opened, enveloping the boy from the cold of Gotham. For the first time in a long time, Jason didn't feel completely alone.

Wayne Manor had always seemed too big, even for those who lived there, so for Jason Todd, it was a whole new world. Every room felt like a museum, every object in his path a luxury he couldn't quite grasp. The high ceilings, the chandeliers that hung like inverted constellations, the walls covered in paintings and portraits of ancestors that stared back at him with stern stares. He walked slowly, but with his arms crossed and his back straight, like a stray cat ready to pounce at the slightest movement. He didn't belong there at all, and he knew it.

Jason carried with him that smell of asphalt, smoke, and the forced freedom of the street, something the mansion, so neat and quiet, seemed to repel with every step he took. He looked at everything with suspicion, as if afraid that if he touched anything, it might break or, worse, be reprimanded for doing so. His boots echoed on the marble floor, making his presence seem too loud for such a solemn place.

Jason moved cautiously through the hallway, feeling like every step was an invasion. The echo of his boots on the marble made him feel too present, too out of place. His gaze was alert, fixed on every corner, as if at any moment someone might come out and tell him to get lost.

Then a soft voice broke the silence. “So you’re Jason,” she said warmly, as if she’d known him forever.

He met a woman coming down the main stairs, despite it being the middle of the night, she looked radiant, she didn't look like the women he had seen in the alleys or in the shops, she was there with her hair loose and her belly rounded from the last weeks of pregnancy, she greeted him with a smile that Jason didn't know how to process.

"It's me... I guess," he murmured, his voice hoarse and distrust reflected in every muscle in his body.

She stepped down the last step and approached with firm steps. “Welcome, Jason,” she said sweetly, as if she really meant it.

Jason pressed his lips together, looking to the side, uncomfortable. He wasn't used to that kind of welcome. Before he could answer, another voice echoed from the side gallery. Deep, firm, unmistakable. "Is everything all right?"

It was Bruce. He'd been watching, giving him space, but now he was approaching with a confident stride. His presence filled the hallway like a protective shadow, and Jason felt it immediately.

"It's okay," she replied with a smile at her husband, then looked back at the boy. "He's just getting to know the house."

Jason rolled his eyes, muttering to himself, “Knowing the castle, you mean…”

Jason remained rooted to the marble, arms crossed, his gaze shifty. Her warmth made him uncomfortable, and Bruce's firm presence left him no room to escape. It was then that a new sound interrupted the scene: agile footsteps descending from the opposite wing of the mansion.

"Well, well," said a voice laden with irony. "Who's this?"

Jason looked up and saw him. A dark-haired boy, just a couple of years older than him, his right arm immobilized in a sling. He wore blue pajamas and slippers, moving with the ease of someone who knew every corner of the place perfectly. His bright blue eyes fixed on Jason with a spark that was hard to read, half curiosity, half discomfort.

"Jason, this is Dick," Bruce introduced calmly. " Our son."

Jason raised an eyebrow in surprise and snorted. “Sure… I thought so.”

Dick crossed his arms, unconsciously mimicking Jason's defensive stance. "So what are you doing here?" he asked, looking him up and down with a hint of barely disguised distrust.

"He'll be with us from now on" Bruce replied, with that authority that left no room for reply.

Dick pressed his lips together. He didn't argue, but his jaw tightened. His eyes returned to the skinny boy in front of him, with his worn clothes and street-scarred hands. Jason stared back fearlessly, as if accepting the challenge.

"So... I guess you're Bruce's new 'experiment,'" Dick said, trying to sound nonchalant, though every word was laced with veiled jealousy. His bandaged arm swung slightly, reminding him that he was restrained, but not about to give up any space on his territory.

"Richard, don't say that," Bruce's wife intervened, with the same sweetness she had shown from the beginning. "Everyone has their place here, Jason. You don't have to worry about competing with anyone."

Jason looked at them, surprised. He hadn't expected such warmth, such clarity. Still, as he walked carefully down the hallway, something inside him began to relax. Maybe, just maybe, he'd found a place where he could belong... though he still had to earn everyone's trust, including Dick.

The days passed quickly at the mansion for everyone, Dick and Jason's relationship had improved a little, it was anything but tense between them, Dick was going through a complicated phase with Bruce, after he broke his arm while patrolling with him as Robin, Bruce fired him from his position and since then the days at the mansion were marked by slight friction between father and son. Dick tried not to let his bad mood and frustration contaminate the atmosphere, aware that the only woman living there already carried enough weight with her pregnancy and with the care of a baby girl who would soon come into the world.

Jason, little by little, was beginning to adapt to the new routine, although always with caution and that distrust inherited from the street, still not fully assimilating that he now had a place to be, he had clothes and food, he didn't have to go out on the streets to steal to get even a little money, he was no longer cold at night. But deep down, he didn't want to get used to all this. This family was already formed, they had an adopted son, now they had a little girl, and what did he have to do there getting in the way?

Of course, this might have gone unnoticed by Bruce or Dick, but never by her. As he was arranging some books in the study, Jason felt a presence behind him. It was her, his wife, approaching with soft but steady steps.

"Are you okay, Jason?" she asked, with that warmth that seemed to penetrate every wall he put up.

Jason tensed slightly, turning to face her. “Yeah… I think so,” he replied, with a shrug that didn’t quite hide his uncertainty.

She smiled, tilting her head slightly. “You know… I’m setting up the baby’s room.”

Jason raised an eyebrow, surprised by the casualness with which she included him. "Oh... really? That's great." His voice sounded awkward, trying not to sound too interested.

"Yeah... and I was thinking of asking if you wanted to help me," she said, placing a small pillow on the crib's bed. Her smile was so genuine that Jason felt strangely comfortable. "You could hang these pictures or help me with the bookshelf. Bruce bought her a lot of things..."

Jason looked at her, and for a moment his usual wariness faltered. He nodded, and together they began working in the room. As she showed him how to hang a picture at the proper height, he listened, asking for details, awkwardly joking when he dropped something or when she gently corrected him.

For a moment, the anxiety that always accompanied him disappeared. But when she mentioned what it would be like to have a baby in the house, Jason felt a knot in his stomach.

"So... what will it be like when the baby arrives?" she asked, trying to sound casual, although her voice betrayed a hint of unease.

She looked at him with understanding, as if she'd read his thoughts. "It will be different, yes, but that doesn't mean anyone loves you any less, Jason. You have your place here, you always will."

Jason looked down, biting his lip. For a moment, he felt vulnerable, afraid that the love he was beginning to feel for the family would fade once the baby arrived.

As time passed, Jason began to notice his mistrust softening. Every small mistake, every shared laugh, every instruction on how to place a shelf or hang a picture made him feel like he belonged. For the first time in a long time, he wasn't just an outsider; he was someone who had a place, someone who could laugh and make mistakes without fear of judgment.

When they finally finished hanging the pictures and putting away the toys, she leaned back against the crib, looking up at him with a satisfied smile. "Look, Jason, the room's ready. And you helped make it perfect."

He crossed his arms, feigning modesty, but he couldn't help but smile. "I guess it wasn't so bad."

"No, it was great," she said, winking at him. "The baby is going to be happy to have an older brother like you. He's going to love you very much, I'm sure."

Jason felt an unexpected warmth in his chest. “Big brother…” he thought. The thought made him genuinely smile. For the first time, he realized he could belong to this family, that he could be part of something bigger than himself. And that feeling… was good, very good.

[athenalvss]

Okay, I have a question that could change the family dynamics in Hot Wife. Should I follow canon AND KILL JASON? NOW NOW NOW

[athenalvss]

How old is batmom?

Let's consider that she is younger than Bruce like, maybe 4/5 years less, not much more

[athenalvss]

question, how long have batmom and bruce been together atp now that she’s pregnant? is it before or after damian is born?

Okay, okay, okay, I was doing some calculations and I think everything would indicate that they are after Damian was born. Let me explain.

Bruce started being Batman when he was about 24 years old.

At 26, he adopted Dick, who was 10 years old.

At about 27 he meets her (we will explore that later in the stories) they start dating a while later, and are together until Bruce is almost thirty, they only break for a while, maybe half a year or so, but it's before Talia gets pregnant so there's no cheating, yey!!

Let's assume that at Bruce's 30, Talia has Damian, and at that same age, Bruce and batmom get back together and he marries Batmom

34 adopts Jason

Jason dies at 36

37 Tim it's welcome

At 40 Bruce meets Damian when he is 10 years old.

So they would be about 8 years togheter when Batmom is pregnant

[athenalvss]

side note: COMO VA A GANAR VIVIAN acá hubo fraude eeee se va a caer se va a caer/j

JAJAJAJAJA NO SÉ, me da medio de vieja chota pero bueno, Vivian va a nacer con mínimo 40 años de aporte welcome back viviana canosa

[athenalvss]

.....what do you mean you're Argentinian

you have a Brazilian reader 🤍😭😭😭 mi gente latino, tudo de bom

Reunião do Mercosul caralho, muito obrigada for reading me, that's all my Portuguese, I gave it my all

[athenalvss]

can you do: Reader thinking she is hard to love and stubborn, and (Dick, or Wally or Jason) trying to prove that she is wrong, please? It's been a hard week😞 (it's still Tuesday)

HARD TO LOVE ( batboy + Wally )

summary | After going through difficult times, your insecurity of being difficult to love always comes to the surface.

pairing | Wally west x fem!reader ; Dick grayson x fem!reader ; Jason todd x fem!reader

note | I hope you at least have a better rest of the week, GOOD VIBES 4 U. By the way, I realized I haven't written for Jason in a while... SEND REQUEST

wally mlist. / Dick mlist. / Jason mlist

DICK GRAYSON

Today had been a complicated day, you had come from a mission in which the group had been hurt and you felt guilty about what had happened, the entire trip back to the yogurt had been silent on your part, your head was flooded with memories, insecurities and the pressure you always felt to keep everything under control, they weighed on you more than usual, and it had always been difficult for you to talk about it.

That's why you were there in your room sitting on the bed, your head resting on your knees while you tried to ignore all those malicious thoughts you had about yourself, until a light knocking sound on the door distracted you, followed by hearing the door open and soft footsteps.

Dick walked in softly, trying not to interrupt you. “Hey… do you want to talk about what happened earlier?” he asked carefully, moving closer.

You don't look at him, you don't want to look at him now, his voice, so close and full of concern, made you feel vulnerable, and you didn't want that either, all you wanted now was to be alone, but his presence made that impossible.

"No… I don't need it now, Dick, don't do anything" you answered in a whisper, trying to sound firm. "Just… leave me alone."

Dick frowns, confused and worried. He takes a step closer, trying to bridge the distance without invading your space. "I know you're having a bad day, but it's no good shutting yourself away like this. You know you can tell me anything..."

Your chest tightens. You don't want to admit it, but his words make you feel like he's invading your boundaries. You interpret it as pressure, as if he can't respect your need for space.

"You always say that!" you burst out, with more frustration than you expected. "You haunt me with your 'concern,' as if I can't handle anything on my own. You always have to fix everything… I don't need you to fix me!"

Dick freezes, surprised by your intensity. His eyes show a mixture of guilt and concern. “I’m not trying to fix anything,” he begins calmly. “I just want to be here for you.”

"Well, I don't need it now. I want you to leave," you say, your words sharp and filled with fear. "I feel suffocated here. No one understands what it's like to need space."

He lowers his gaze, processing your words. There's no reproach in his expression, only understanding, that damn soft look he gives everyone. He knew your reaction wasn't against him. You'd talked about it so many times over the years together, and you even wondered why he was still there with you.

"Okay… if you need time," he finally says. "Just… don't close the door all the way."

You turn away, your eyes moist, feeling your insecurities clash with your fear of hurting those you approach. This misunderstanding isn't anyone's fault, but it leaves a mark the feeling that you're complicated, stubborn, and hard to love.

The room falls completely silent as Dick steps out and gently closes the door. There's no reproach in his expression, not even annoyance, and that's precisely what hurts you the most. Because you know he doesn't deserve it, and you know you only took your frustration out on him when you shouldn't have.

You sit for a few more minutes, staring at the floor, your heart pounding and your eyes burning. Why do you always end up pushing away the people you love most?

That thought stabs through you, and a wave of guilt forces you to get up and apologize to him. It wasn't his fault. So you walk toward the door with unsteady steps, hesitating for a second with your hand on the handle. Part of you wants to lock yourself away again, let it all cool down, but you can't. Maybe with someone else you would, but you couldn't do that with him.

You go out into the hallway and try to find him. He doesn't seem to be anywhere near you. You walk a little faster, going down the stairs, scanning every corner with your heart pounding. You finally find him in the training room, standing by the table, arms crossed, his gaze fixed on one spot, looking worried.

You stop in the doorway, the lump in your throat growing ever larger. “Dick…”

He looks up as soon as he hears your voice. Part of you wants to run away again, but you take a deep breath.

“I’m sorry” you whisper, lowering your head slightly. “What I said before… it wasn’t fair. I know you were just trying to help. I just… felt like a mess and… I don’t want to take it out on you.”

It doesn't take long for Dick to approach. He takes a couple of steps and stops in front of you, searching your gaze. "Hey... it's okay," he says calmly. "I know you. I know that when you're like this, you sometimes push people away. But I'm never going to use that as a reason to walk away from you."

His words instantly disarm you. Silent tears begin to pool in your eyes, and you blink rapidly to stop them from falling.

"It's just... I feel like I'm hurting anyone who wants to be with me," you finally admit. "And I'm afraid that one day you'll get tired of trying to understand me, Dick."

Dick gently shakes his head and places a hand on your cheek, forcing you to look up. “I won’t get tired of you,” he whispers. “I’m not perfect, and I’ll probably fail a thousand times trying… but I won’t stop trying. I won’t leave you alone, even when you think you deserve it.”

"I'm sorry... everything is always so difficult with me." A tear escapes before you can stop it. Dick wipes it with his thumb and, with the same tenderness as always, pulls you into his arms.

"You're not hard to love," he repeats near your ear, like a reminder that digs right into your chest. "You just need someone who's willing to stay, and I am. I won't leave."

WALLY WEST

It had been three days since the argument, and although Wally hadn't said anything hurtful that night, the silence that followed had hurt you far more than you wanted to admit.

It all started as it usually does with him, with a silly joke that could have been funny at any moment, but you weren't in the mood to put up with anything. You were at a point where you could barely stand yourself. You'd had a horrible day and were clearly exhausted. But Wally tried to cheer you up by making a lighthearted comment, something like, "Your grumpy face is funny." It was the final straw. You turned around and exploded, telling him that he "never understood things" and that he "could never be serious about anything," and Wally's face froze, leaving him in shock. He didn't even try to answer because you'd never spoken to him like that before, and you couldn't blame him for his distance. He just mumbled a "Sorry" and left.

Since then, he hadn't gotten much closer, he wasn't avoiding you, but he stopped looking for you, he no longer appeared in your room with food, he no longer spoke in an animated manner, he was very measured in how he reacted around you, and that distance was destroying you inside, you felt like shit for treating the sweetest boy in the world.

I messed up, you think for the fifth time that afternoon, as you peer into the hallway and see him leaning against the kitchen counter, flipping through a report.

You're hesitant to approach when he looks up and his eyes meet yours. There's no anger on his face, but neither is there the usual warmth. and that makes you feel a pinch in your chest.

"Wally..." you murmur, finally gathering the courage to take a step into the kitchen.

He puts down the report immediately, as if he's been waiting for you, but he doesn't say anything. He just looks at you. That lack of a smile, the one he always wears, makes you feel even more guilty.

You remain silent for a few seconds, your nerves eating you alive. You play with your fingers, searching for the words. "I wanted to... apologize," you finally manage, though your voice barely comes out. "What I said the other day... wasn't fair. I... was wrong, and I exploded at you when you shouldn't have been the one on the receiving end of all that."

Wally opens his mouth, as if to say something, but you continue before he can interrupt you.

"I know I'm complicated, and I know I make things difficult for you sometimes. And I understand if… if you don't want to be as close to me as you used to, if I treated you horribly, I…"

His eyebrows furrow instantly, almost as if what you said hurt him. “What are you talking about?” he asks gently, putting the report aside. “Why would you think that?”

You shrug slightly. "Because you stopped looking for me... talking to me like you used to," you confess, lowering your gaze. "And I thought you were tired of me, maybe you wanted something better, that... that maybe I'm too difficult..."

It takes Wally two seconds to react, and those two seconds are enough for the lump in your throat to become unbearable. But the next thing you feel is his hands cupping your face so gently that you almost break down just from it.

"No" he says firmly. "Don't ever say that again. I didn't walk away because I was tired. I just thought you needed space... and I was afraid of making you feel bad again."

You look at him, surprised. He leans in a little closer, his hands still on your cheek. "That you're complicated? Yes, a little." He smiles faintly, with that same sparkle as always. "But that doesn't scare me. I don't want to be alone on your good days; I want to be there for the bad ones, too."

A small, stifled laugh escapes you, mixed with a sob, and his fingers slide down the side of your neck, warm, steady.

"You're my person," he whispers. "And I'm not going anywhere. So stop thinking you're hard to love, because for me, loving you is the easiest thing in the world."

That's all it took to break you. You throw yourself at him and hug him tightly, burying your face in his chest. Wally immediately wraps his arms around you, holding you close as if he's afraid you'll leave again.

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry..." you murmur through tears. "I love you so much, Walls."

"Shhh... that's it, sweetheart," he whispers, gently kissing the top of your head. "I'm here, okay? I love you so much..."

JASON TODD

It had been a couple of days since you had canceled on him, you had been dating Jason for a short time, you couldn't even call what you had going out, it was more of a phase where you were getting to know each other, and Jason had invited you out, nothing crazy, an impromptu dinner, a movie, but even so, something in your chest tightened just thinking about it.

You knew that if you agreed, things might move too far, getting too close to a place you didn't want to be yet. So you said you couldn't, that you were tired, that it wasn't a good time. The problem wasn't that you'd canceled, but the way you'd done it, because you did it without any explanation.

What you didn't know was that Jason had waited, excited, only to be met with silence. He'd asked Roy for help with everything, he'd undone all his plans so he could spend time with you, and even then he still didn't get a response. Since then, there was something between you that hadn't felt the same, and it was more than reasonable from your point of view. His smile was a little more restrained, somewhat tense, his comments a little more measured, and the way he looked at you laced with caution.

You stood in front of the loft door for a couple of seconds, breathing heavily. Your heart pounded in your chest as if it wanted to burst out, while your hands fiddled with the hem of your T-shirt. Every thought seemed to scream, "You're going to ruin everything." Finally, you took a step inside and saw him leaning against the rooftop railing, his arms crossed, his hood pulled back. His expression was serious, but there was no trace of anger... only a calm that made you feel small and exposed.

"Jason..." you murmured, your voice shaky and almost a whisper, "do you have a moment? I wanted to talk to you."

He slowly looked up and studied you silently. Every passing second seemed to drag on. You could see the mixture of disappointment and concern in his eyes, and it made you press your lips together tightly.

You took a deep breath, letting the tears begin to fall freely, and finally looked up, meeting his eyes.

"Yes... tell me," he said finally, his voice low, controlled, but with that edge of tension that I wasn't used to seeing in him.

You swallowed and tried to gather your thoughts as your whole body trembled. Nervousness gnawed at your stomach, and your chest felt too small to hold everything you wanted to say.

"About the other night…" you started, looking down. "when I canceled… it wasn't because of you, I didn't want you to feel bad, I was scared… scared that everything would get too serious, and… I didn't want to ruin what we're building, but… I know I hurt you, and I didn't mean to do that, I'm sorry".your voice cracked a little as you said it.

Jason frowned slightly, but his expression softened as he saw your nervousness. His hands loosened from the railing and he took a measured step closer, as if assessing the situation. Every fiber of his body seemed to contain the mixture of frustration and caution, trying not to push or intimidate you, but making it clear he was there.

"So... your fear made you run away," he said, his voice faintly grave. "And you thought you didn't need to explain anything to me."

You nodded, unable to look at him directly, tears threatening to spill out. "Yeah... and I've felt horrible ever since, Jason. I think I always end up hurting the people I love." Your voice dropped to a whisper. "That maybe I'm just too complicated for you."

For a moment, Jason remained silent. His breathing was slow but steady, his body rigid, and you could see the internal struggle between disappointment and the affection he still felt for you. Finally, he took a step closer, gently placing his hands on your arms, staring into your eyes.

"Listen to me," he said, firmly but gently. "I'm not the best person to tell you that someone else is complicated, and I don't care that you're afraid. I don't care that sometimes you do things that seem complicated. What matters to me is that this is what you really want right now."

You moved a little closer, resting your forehead against his, and felt your nervousness mix with the warmth of his presence.

"I like what we have, Jay," you began, your voice trembling but firm. "I don't want to lose him. I don't want to leave you. I like being with you... even when I'm scared things might get serious."

A glimmer of relief crossed her eyes and her grip tightened a little, as if she needed reassurance that those words were real.

"Then don't walk away," he said in a whisper. "Don't let fear win. I... want to be with you. And I will be. Always."

You felt your eyes fill with tears. For the first time in days, you allowed yourself to feel relief. Jason leaned in. It had been a couple of days since you'd broken up with him. You'd only been seeing Jason for a short time. You couldn't even really call what you were having a date; it was more of a getting-to-know-you phase. And Jason had asked you out. Nothing crazy, just an impromptu dinner, a movie, but still, something in your chest tightened just thinking about it.

"Promise me you won't leave," you murmured. "Because I don't want to leave you."

"I'm never leaving," Jason assured you, wrapping his arms around you. "No matter what happens, I won't leave you alone."

You took a deep breath, letting the tears begin to fall freely, and finally looked up, meeting his eyes.

You knew that if you agreed, things might move too far, getting too close to a place you didn't want to be yet. So you said you couldn't, that you were tired, that it wasn't a good time. The problem wasn't that you'd canceled, but the way you'd done it, because you did it without any explanation.

What you didn't know was that Jason had waited, excited, only to be met with silence. He'd asked Roy for help with everything, he'd undone all his plans so he could spend time with you, and even then he still didn't get a response. Since then, there was something between you that hadn't felt the same, and it was more than reasonable from your point of view. His smile was a little more restrained, somewhat tense, his comments a little more measured, and the way he looked at you laced with caution.

You stood in front of the loft door for a couple of seconds, breathing heavily. Your heart pounded in your chest as if it wanted to burst out, while your hands fiddled with the hem of your T-shirt. Every thought seemed to scream, "You're going to ruin everything." Finally, you took a step inside and saw him leaning against the rooftop railing, his arms crossed, his hood pulled back. His expression was serious, but there was no trace of anger... only a calm that made you feel small and exposed.

"Jason..." you murmured, your voice shaky and almost a whisper, "do you have a moment? I wanted to talk to you."

He slowly looked up and studied you silently. Every passing second seemed to drag on. You could see the mixture of disappointment and concern in his eyes, and it made you press your lips together tightly.

"Yes... tell me," he said finally, his voice low, controlled, but with that edge of tension that I wasn't used to seeing in him.

You swallowed and tried to gather your thoughts as your whole body trembled. Nervousness gnawed at your stomach, and your chest felt too small to hold everything you wanted to say.

"About the other night… " .you started, looking down. "when I canceled… it wasn't because of you, I didn't want you to feel bad, I was scared… scared that everything would get too serious, and… I didn't want to ruin what we're building, but… I know I hurt you, and I didn't mean to do that, I'm sorry" .your voice cracked a little as you said it.

Jason frowned slightly, but his expression softened as he saw your nervousness. His hands loosened from the railing and he took a measured step closer, as if assessing the situation. Every fiber of his body seemed to contain the mixture of frustration and caution, trying not to push or intimidate you, but making it clear he was there.

"So... your fear made you run away," he said, his voice faintly grave. "And you thought you didn't need to explain anything to me."

You nodded, unable to look at him directly, tears threatening to spill out. "Yeah... and I've felt horrible ever since, Jason. I think I always end up hurting the people I love." Your voice dropped to a whisper. "That maybe I'm just too complicated for you."

For a moment, Jason remained silent. His breathing was slow but steady, his body rigid, and you could see the internal struggle between disappointment and the affection he still felt for you. Finally, he took a step closer, gently placing his hands on your arms, staring into your eyes.

"Listen to me," he said, firmly but gently. "I'm not the best person to tell you that someone else is complicated, and I don't care that you're afraid. I don't care that sometimes you do things that seem complicated. What matters to me is that this is what you really want right now."

You moved a little closer, resting your forehead against his, and felt your nervousness mix with the warmth of his presence.

"I like what we have, Jay," you began, your voice trembling but firm. "I don't want to lose him. I don't want to leave you. I like being with you... even when I'm scared things might get serious."

A glimmer of relief crossed her eyes and her grip tightened a little, as if she needed reassurance that those words were real.

"Then don't walk away," he said in a whisper. "Don't let fear win. I... want to be with you. And I will be. Always."

"I'm never leaving," Jason assured you, wrapping his arms around you. "No matter what happens, I won't leave you alone."

"Promise me you won't leave," you murmured. "Because I don't want to leave you."

You felt your eyes fill with tears. For the first time in days, you allowed yourself to feel relief. Jason leaned down and rested his forehead against yours, warm and firm.

"You don't deserve this fear you carry," he whispered. "You deserve someone to remind you that it's okay to make mistakes. That it's okay to feel afraid. And I... I'm here for you, even if you're scared, even if you run, even if you think you can't."

You hugged him, letting go of all the weight you'd been carrying. He held you tight, as if anchoring you to the present and assuring you he wouldn't leave.

"Thank you," you whispered through your tears. "Thank you for staying."

"There's nothing to be thankful for," he said in a gentle but intense tone. "Anyone who runs away from you is a fool, and I'm no fool."

Your heart leaped. For the first time in days, you felt like you weren't alone in your chaos. Jason leaned in a little closer, resting his forehead against yours, his eyes shining with a mixture of tenderness and determination.

"You're not too complicated for me," he said softly, almost a whisper. "You're real, you're you… and that's enough."

Your tears began to flow freely, and you couldn't stop them. You threw yourself into his arms, trembling, with all the nervousness and guilt pent up. He held you tightly, warm and secure, conveying to you that even though everything inside you seemed like a mess, he wasn't going to leave.

And in that instant, as the city glittered beneath you, you knew that even if your fear didn't disappear overnight, Jason was willing to go through it all with you.

msu frente contra la tuya, cálido y firme.

"You don't deserve this fear you carry," he whispered. "You deserve someone to remind you that it's okay to make mistakes. That it's okay to feel afraid. And I'm... I'm here for you, even if you're scared, even if you run, even if you think you can't."

You hugged him, letting go of all the weight you'd been carrying. He held you tight, as if anchoring you to the present and assuring you he wouldn't leave.

"Thank you," you whispered through your tears. "Thank you for staying."

"There's nothing to be thankful for," he said in a gentle but intense tone. "Anyone who runs away from you is a fool, and I'm no fool."

Your heart leaped. For the first time in days, you felt like you weren't alone in your chaos. Jason leaned in a little closer, resting his forehead against yours, his eyes shining with a mixture of tenderness and determination.

"You're not too complicated for me," he said softly, almost a whisper. "You're real, you're you… and that's enough."

Your tears began to flow freely, and you couldn't stop them. You threw yourself into his arms, trembling, with all the nervousness and guilt pent up. He held you tightly, warm and secure, conveying to you that even though everything inside you seemed like a mess, he wasn't going to leave.

And in that instant, as the city glittered beneath you, you knew that even if your fear didn't disappear overnight, Jason was willing to go through it all with you.

[athenalvss]

Ponele gran malvina a la bat nena que tantoo

Cortita y al pie, quien pingo es Vivian

[athenalvss]

SIIII, OTRA ARGENTINA ACA JAJAJAJAJAJ 🩷🩷🩷

QUIEN DICE DOS, DICE TRES

[athenalvss]

Estaba leyendo tus fics y mientras leía tenía una sensación rara, me meto a tu perfil y veo q sos de argentina tambien con razón negraaa, estamos en todos lados al final

Amo los fics de Bruce🙏🙏 sos grosa sabelo

Lo que me fascina encontrarme con que gente de Argentina LEE MIS BOLUDECES, sea donde sea, siempre hay un argentino. Y MUCHAS GRACIASS 🫶🫶🫶 voy a seguir escribiendo, tengo un par de ideas por ahí