#AND I LOVE JASON DON'T GET ME WRONG BUT I'M NOT LOOKING FOR HIM !!!!!!! I'M NOT LOOKING FOR HIM RN !!!!!!!

[pretty-side-of-the-moon]

Hey how are you?, I saw your post asking for requests so here's one, can you make a Jason Grace Madly in Love with Reader, like he's in love with her because she makes him live longer and doesn't see him just for being a praetor or son of Jupiter, so Jason gets very jealous of the reader with some random boy, because she cancels some plans with Jason to go out with him and almost like in the song Heather by Conan Gray, but in the end Jason says he likes her and they end up together.

Thank you for your time and sorry if it was too long😭

I'll be soo honest I don't see Jason as the mad jealous type.. I think he's more silent dread. And sorry this took literally forever I feel aweful:((( and this is my first time writing for him...ever.... so sorry if the characterization is messed up :((

I hope this was somewhat worth the wait

Xoxo,

Pretty ♡♡♡

---

You guys were friends. Or, he thought so, at least. He was never particularly good with friends. The only ones he'd ever really had were almost assigned to him. Waking up next to Piper and Leo, running camp Jupiter with Reyna, questing with the seven, even Nico only befriended him after Godly intervention.

So, he wasn't quite sure how close the two of you were. And now, he felt utterly foolishness.

He knew that you weren't his. But you had hung around him all week- and maybe he thought it was a little more than friendly.

But he thought wrong.

Cause his arm is around you now. And you're wearing his jacket. And you're laughing.

It's a sinking kind of disappointment, one that feels almost unreasonable. And he knew that.

You guys had been hanging out a lot. Enough that Jason had managed to fall hard. And you were supposed to spar with him again today. He was already there, five minutes early, like always, when one of your siblings had told him that you had to cancel to hang out with some guy.

That's all he was, Jason figured, some guy who needed a favor.

But it was clearly more than that now.

Cause you hadn't even looked at Jason during dinner, and now you were wearing that guy's jacket over your shoulders and giggling.

He left campfire early that night.

---

Jason really didn't mean to ignore you- it just kind of happened. If you were to ask someone with a psyche degree, they would probably call it some sort of defense mechanism.

He had been non-stop training for a week now, aside from time with leo and Piper, or meals. He wasn't great with coping.

And yeah, he did panic everytime you tried to talk to him- or scurry off when he saw you walking into the arena with one of your friends. But that wasn't because you did anything wrong...or so he said.

"I'm just busy. You know, I've just stopped training as much since I came to camp, and I need to get back on it."

"Oh.. well, let me know when we can hang out again?"

There was a small leap in his chest - maybe he really was just overthinking things. But.. you still seemed so fine without him. Like it didn't matter whether you were there or not.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

You paced your cabin, the music you'd put on had long since faded into the background.

"It's just so unlike him- I mean, he never just disappears.. I don't even know what I did wrong-"

Piper, who sat on your bed, criss cross applesauce, resting her chin on her hand, rolled her eyes again.

"And when did this start-? C'mon put the pieces together, hun." You glared at her.

"I canceled plans once. That can't seriously be it.. I mean.. it was just Conner!" You sighed, plopping down next to her. "I don't think that would be it.."

Piper groaned, "right, cause you canceled plans, and then Jason had to watch him give you googly eyes all night."

You sighed. "I don't get it. Why would he even care about that-? It's not like he... you know."

"I'm so, so, close to hitting you."

"Die."

"Talk to him, for my sake if nothing else."

-----

"Will you please just talk to her, man?" Leo watched Jason hit another dummy, "you've been ignoring her for like...how long?"

"Eight days." Jason mumbled.

"...that was weirdly fast. Do you want me to ask again so you can hesitate-?"

Jason shot him a look, but slowed.

"I just don't know, I mean...it's not like I want to ignore her, but she clearly doesn't like me like that, and I've been ignoring her too long to pretend that it's nothing."

Leo rolled his eyes.

"You could just tell her. She's upset, you know that, right?"

Jason paused.

"She is?"

Leo groaned, "oh my gods- dude, yes! Piper says she hasn't stopped worrying about it. Please- just tell her."

Jason slashed another dummy.

----

You and Jason met half way between your cabin and the arena. You froze when you saw him. And then he saw you, and did the same.

There was a short moment of you two staring at each other, blinking, breathing softly, and trying to formulate words.

You managed to speak first.

"I'm so sorry-"

"No, no it's not your fault-"

"No really, I didn't mean to cancel it just kind of happend-"

"I'm sorry I got so...butthurt."

That made you pause, then blink, and then laugh. Soft, really. More like a chuckle or a giggle. But suddenly the walls were down, and he was laughing too.

"Jason...no, you can be upset. I feel like a asshole." You managed.

"Don't- I just...i got scared that you..." he hesitated, and swallowed, "that you didn't feel like I did. Like I do." He was almost whispering. "It's- It's okay if you don't, really. I just- I'm inlove with you."

Silence.

You blinked once. Twice.

And then you kissed him.

And then his hands were on your waist and you were both laughing again.

And then his lips were on yours again.

Poor guy, he couldn't stop smiling long enough to kiss you properly.

[cygnusposts]

back on my bullshit (obsessively reading through any and all canon roy harper content and taking extensive notes on it)

[kitkatscabinet]

TAKE ME TO YOUR BEST FRIEND'S HOUSE

Pairings: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne x fem! reader.

Summary: So, he might be going against "bro code". He can't help it, though; his best friend's sibling is just too cute.

A/N: Reader can be imagined as biological/adopted/found family.

DICK GRAYSON & WALLY WEST

How Dick hadn't learnt to not leave his phone unattended was beyond Wally, especially when, for a vigilante, the man had such lax security for his personal phone. Nor should he have ever trusted Wally with the password.

Already drafting his absolute PR nightmare tweet on Dick's account, he's mentally rubbing his evil little hands together when his thumb hits the banner notification that pops up on the top of the screen.

My Heart: Thinking about you, come home soon xo

Alongside the text is a photo, a very suggestive photo of a woman dressed in nothing but one of Dick's hoodies. Wally knows because he bought Dick that hoodie, he's also very familiar with the woman in the photo on account of it being his baby sister.

He shrieks, the phone slipping from his slack with shock grip and landing on his big toe.

He doesn't hear the ringtone over his sudden stream of pained expletives, hopping on one foot, until he hears your voice from the speaker.

"Hey babe! You left your hoodie at - "

"YOU!" Wally screams, blubbering incoherently, pointing an accusing finger at the phone like you can see him.

"Jesus Christ," he can practically see you recoiling away from your phone, "Wally?" You've heard enough of your brother's meltdowns over the years that you can recognise him from just a single word.

"YOU, YOU - YOU HARLOT!" You snort at his words, staying silent until his stream of consciousness is finished.

"You done?" You hum, completely unphased at the tantrum Wally's just thrown for the past seven minutes.

"Am I, am I done? No, I'm not done." He squawks, "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!" There's a beat of incredulous silence on your end.

"Excuse me? What have I done to you?"

"DEFILED THE SACRED BOND OF BROTHERHOOD IS WHAT YOU'VE DONE, HE'S MY BEST FRIEND"

"The sacred bond of brotherhood? I'm your fucking sibling, you're supposed to attack him, not me!" Wally can't help but notice how you don't deny his words.

"Oh, believe me, Dickhead is gonna get what's coming to him."

"Yeah, whatever, I'm hanging up now, tell Dick I'm getting pizza for dinner."

"Don't you dare - " He doesn't even get to finish his sentence before you've followed through.

"Hey Wally, have you seen my ... phone?" Dick trails off as he spots the item he's looking for in his agitated friend's hand.

"You don’t fuck your best friends younger sibling. That’s like the number one rule of bro code!” Wally shrieked, not greeting him like a normal person, and not giving Dick even a second to realise what was happening before he was being grabbed and shaken by his shoulders.

"I love her." No explanation, no apologies, just pure earnestness and the softest look Wally had ever seen on his friend's face.

The declaration takes all the wind out of his sails, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He drags a hand down his face slowly,

Finally, he groaned and dragged both hands down his face. "Ugh. I hate that you’re so genuine. It ruins my ability to stay mad. Barry's not going to be happy you kept this from him though."

The mental image of the Flash going protective uncle giving him the slightest bit of sick satisfaction, until Dick shatters his dreams by casually saying, "he already knows."

"He what?! Am I the last to know?" Dick makes a show of thinking about it before shrugging with an unapologetic grin.

"Kinda, yeah."

"I'M SURROUNDED BY TRAITORS!" Wally yells, sinking to his knees in defeat.

JASON TODD & ROY HARPER

Nobody had ever accused Roy of being a detective. He might not be as smart as the bats (an impossible hurdle in Roy's opinion), but he wasn't completely fucking stupid.

An unfortunate reality for his sister, who he'd caught sneaking into the Titans Tower at the ripe time of 4:47 am, wearing a familiar leather jacket with a bullet hole in the sleeve. A jacket that could only mean one of two things.

You had joined a biker gang.

You were dating Jason Todd, AKA, his best friend, AKA dead fucking meat.

Because while option one terrified him, he'd still prefer it to the option he had a sinking suspicion about was actually correct.

The next afternoon, he finds Jason working out in the Tower's gym, and he grins wickedly. Bastard didn't even have to make Roy track him down.

"Hey, Roy." Jason greets, never once faltering in his reps, entirely unbothered, like he hadn’t committed emotional treason.

Roy thinks he could be forgiven for his following action, he could have done a lot worse than picking up the nearest kettlebell and throwing it at his unsuspecting friend.

"WHAT THE FUCK ROY?" Jason screeched as he dove for cover.

"YOU’RE DATING MY SISTER?!"

"Um, what?" He squeaks, before clearing his throat, "I mean... I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't try to gaslight me!" Roy jabbed a finger at him, seething. "You're supposed to be my best friend, and you went and... and started... canoodling my sister."

Jason’s brows shot up in amusement despite himself. "Canoodling?"

"Don't try and deflect either." Roy flushed as red as his hair.

"I’m not—well. Okay. I am. But in my defense, it wasn’t like I planned to fall for your sister."

"Have you kissed?"

Jason contemplates lying but bites the bullet and nods.

Roy gasped like an old lady hearing someone say cunt. "ON PURPOSE?!"

Jason gave him a flat look. "No, Roy, I tripped and fell. Of course, it was on purpose. More than once, too." He smirks, unable to stop himself from prodding the bear.

Roy spasms.

"Ok, let's not make this weird." Jason huffs.

"Make this weird? It's already weird, we're neck deep in it, NAY!, We're drowning in it!"

"Oh dear god," Jason sighs, squeezing his eyes shut and speaking before he can think better of it, "I love her."

Roy chokes, Jason startles, clearly surprising, even himself, "Oh my god, I love her."

There's a heavy, pained silence before Roy croaks "... Bro"

"I know." Jason tugged at the roots of his hair.

"…BRO." Roy was trying to prevent a panic attack, his panic fuelling Jason's.

"I know."

"You love me?" A slightly giddy voice breathes from the doorway.

Both men groan for different reasons as they spot you bouncing toward them.

"Babe, I -"

"I love you too," you beam, throwing your arms around Jason's neck and kissing him like your life depends on it.

Roy gags, forcing you to pull away. "God, this is gonna ruin every group hang for the rest of my life." He whined.

"Nah. You’ll get used to me kissing your sister in front of you."

"I SWEAR TO GOD —"

TIM DRAKE & CONNER KENT

Conner's knee is jiggling furiously. From across the room, Cassie raises a questioning brow, but Conner makes no effort to stop as he checks the time for the fourth time in less than three minutes.

You're late. So is Tim, but it's not him Conner's worried about. You're never late; you've always been a perpetually early person, and you always get so anxious if you aren't. Conner knows, having been on the receiving end of your time-anxious meltdowns more than once.

"Dude, calm down, they're not even five minutes late yet," Bart says, looking at him as if he's the weird one here, when clearly, something terrible has happened to you.

You've been in a car accident (you don't drive), you've been shot, (you're bulletproof), you've been taken hostage by Lex Luthor (plausible), you've -

"Hi guys, sorry I’m late, I slept through my alarm." You laugh bashfully, avoiding Conner's gaze, which narrows in suspicion.

"That never happens." He scowls, his enhanced hearing picking up the slight stutter in your heartbeat.

"Well, it did today." You rolled your eyes, crossing the room to sit next to Cassie.

Barely two minutes later, a harried-looking Tim scurries through the door, brushing his sweaty hair from his face, and in doing so, accidentally reveals a hickey just beneath the neckline of his shirt.

It's only for a second, but that one second is all he needs to connect the dots.

"No." He says, glaring at Tim as everyone else, including you, watches in confusion.

"No?" Tim repeats.

"NO!" Conner snarls, jumping up from his seat and pulling down the neckline of Tim's shirt to display not one, but three love bites.

"YOU’RE SLEEPING WITH MY SISTER?!"

"Technically, there wasn't much sleeping involved - " Tim mutters, with absolutely zero regard for his well-being.

"I trusted you with my life, and you go behind my back to DEFLOWER MY INNOCENT BABY SISTER?!"

"You're the same age?" Tim mumbles at the same time you scoff.

"Deflower? Innocent? Are we living in the Middle Ages? Are you my owner?"

"Stay out of this!" Conner whirls on you, his gaze dangerously red.

"Stay out of my own sex life?" You guffaw, ignoring the way Conner puffs up like an angry cat. "Besides, Tim's hardly my first."

Your words are enough to shock your brother enough that he drops Tim, reeling back with a hand on his chest like he's suffering a heart attack.

You take the opportunity to scoop your partner into your arms, flying away before Kon can recover, until you reach the safety of the bed you've both only just left.

"I think he's actually going to kill me." Tim mumbles, burying his face in your chest.

"Hmm, guess you''ll just have to keep me around forever, for protection."

"Sounds perfect." Tim dreamily says, clutching you even tighter in contentment.

BRUCE WAYNE & CLARK KENT

Once, there would have been a time when interviewing Gotham’s Bruce Wayne would have left him an anxious wreck, but now, Clark relished in the opportunity. Giddy that his best friend, no matter how much the man denied it, would turn to him (him! A Metropolis interloper), instead of someone like that tart Vicki Vale.

(That thought has him mentally apologising to his ma for his crudeness, but what she wouldn't know, couldn't hurt her.)

Needless to say, Clark was excited to have been given the chance, and he refused to squander it.

They were in Bruce's "office," a room they both knew he hardly ever even stepped foot inside, but had occupied to keep up the facade.

A brilliant facade it was, Clark thought in amusement, as he watched Brucie Wayne ramble on earnestly. Nobody would ever suspect the man, reaching for his wallet to pull out a picture of his kids in an interview on Wayne Enterprises' newest ventures, to be the fearsome Batman.

Clark, ever affable, just smiles, nodding along until a second picture flutters onto the desk. Bruce freezes, his perfected mask slipping just a fraction, but enough for Clark to notice as the unshakeable man's eyes widen in sheer panic.

Bruce was composed. He was always in control, a master of self-control. Bruce was unflappable, he had a plan for everything.

Bruce, evidently, did not have a plan, beyond freezing in horror, for when an intimate Polaroid of his girlfriend, Clark's sister, landed face up on the table between them.

You're wearing one of his button-up shirts, seated sideways across Bruce's lap, the man's large hand clasped over your thigh, as you stare up at him like he's your whole world.

Clark paused, staring at the photo on the desk like it was a live grenade.

Bruce, very carefully, snuck a hand out to retrieve it. Only to be thwarted by Clark's superspeed. He holds it between his thumb and his index finger like it might bite him, the blinding grin never once fading from his face.

Bruce thinks it's the most terrifying Clark has ever looked.

There's a long pause, with Bruce mentally calculating how long it will take before he has some Kryptonite on his hands and whetehr or not Clark will flatten him before then.

"Oh my god," Clark said.

Bruce grimaced. "It's not what it looks like."

"It looks like you're dating my sister."

"Ok, it's exactly what it looks like, but—" He cuts off once more as Clark speaks with surprising giddiness.

"You carry her around in your wallet. Like a real boyfriend, it's sickeningly sweet."

Bruce opened his mouth, closing it and opening it again repeatedly like a stunned fish as he blushed a brilliant red.

Clark wasn’t finished; if anything, he looked like Christmas had come early.

"Is there more?" Bruce stiffens, "There is! Do you have a shrine? I bet you have a shrine!"

"Clark."

"Is it in the batcave?"

"Clark."

"What about a scrapbook? Is she on the manor walls yet?"

"Clark."

"Do your kids know? Wait, am I the last to know?!" He seemed genuinely hurt by that thought.

Bruce looked up at the ceiling like it could save him from the confrontation; he thinks he'd rather fight than... whatever the hell, it is Clark's doing.

[sirxlla]

Hey! Can you make a hc of the batboys with their S/O getting wasted and claiming they have a boyfriend when they are their boyfriend. Thanks

You're Drunk & Telling Them You Have a Boyfriend

----------------------------------------------------

Dick: "Uh, Uh. Get your slimy hands off me, Miiissster...I know karracheee." You slurred your words as he held you up in his arms to get you to the limo, maybe drinking so much at the gala was a bad idea. You made what your drunk self believes is karate hands at him.

"Wow, Karache? Really?" He laughs as he slowly lowers you into the limo onto the long seat.

"You'll seee...you'lll seeee I promise." You slurred as you rolled over face down into the long leather seat.

"Oh no, I'm sure I will, Pumpkin."

"Who you callin' pump-e-kin? Thats- I- Onllyyyy my boyfren allowed to call me that." You said a bit aggressively; it was like a baby bunny trying to take on a lion: attack = a hundred, damage = zero. You quickly fell asleep. The booze got to you, and when you got home, he had to remove you from the seat, your face red where the leather stuck to your face. He unzipped and pulled your dress off and your shoes and let you go to bed before kissing your head.

"G'Night, Pump-E-Kin." He teased you even though you couldn't hear it. "Pump-E-Kin." He whispered to himself with a huge grin before heading to the shower.

Jason: "Ohhhhhh, slow your roll, Muchachos. I got a boyfriend." You said as you waved your finger in Jason's face when his fingers even grazed your hips.

"Oh, yeah, who's this boyfriend? Tell me about him." He so badly wanted to know what drunk you would say about him considering he's never seen you drunk before.

"He kicks names, takes asses." You giggle, not even noticing or thinking for a millisecond that you said that phrase wrong.

"He takes asses? Is that what happened to yours?" Jason was always quick with it and it was even more fun with the idea that you were drunk.

"Hey, that's not nice. I'm gonna tell my boyfriend." You huffed like a cute angry kitten.

"Oh, yes. Please do tell your boyfriend. I'd love to know this boyfriend." He was making the most out of this moment; he'd cherish this forever and tease you just as long.

"Jay-son" You sounded it out as you went to call Jason, slowly scrolling through your phone. "Jay-son" You kept scrolling.

"You got a picture of this Jason?"

"I got millions." You pulled up a picture and showed him.

"Hmmm, this guy is pretty handsome. He looks familiar? I don't know where..." He watched as you zoned out while looking at the picture.

"I just love him so much." You turned into a puddle of tears within a few seconds. "He's everything to me."

"Awww, Babygirl. It's okay." He said as he hugged you and rubbed your back as you sobbed over the man you were right next to.

Bruce: "Y/N, that's more than plenty. No more drinks for the night." He tried to get the drink from you and could if he really needed to.

"You can't tell me what to do, you're not my boyfriend." You down another shot, and before it, you're trying to dance on the bar.

"I- Im, Yes, I am." He looked so confused at your words and how you were claiming not to be his girlfriend.

"My boyfriend's Batman. You know?" You made yourself look like you had pointed little devil ears. "Like Na Na NaNa Na Ba Batman!" You giggled completely out of it before nearly slipping on the bar

Of course, Bruce caught you before you fell too far. You started laughing so hard from being so intoxicated. He carried you out of the bar while paparazzi took pictures of you. If the alcohol in your system didn't have you disoriented, then the flashes from the cameras sure did. They gave you a horrible migraine which slowly pulled you out of your drunken state and back to a sober one.

"Mmmmm...my head feels awful." You grumble as Bruce helps you inside the manor.

"I'm sure it does, you had a lot to drink. We should get you out of those heels and into bed."

"What even is the difference between and manor and a mansion." You asked as he kneeled down to take your heels off.

"Well, A manor is a large estate with a historic significance and is a primary residence. A mansion is a large house that is over 7,000 square feet." He explains as he sets your heels down in his large walk-in closet.

You look at him with a face of complete confusion. Bruce laughs and smiles as he heads back over to you, taking your dress off.

"If you're still interested in the morning I'll explain it all to you." He took his mother's pearls off your neck before laying you down. Bruce put you under the covers and tucked you in like a little kid.

"Good Night, Beautiful." He kisses your forehead and heads down to the Batcave to work on a case he's been trying to break.

Tim: "Don't touch what you can't buy, Bub!" You said as Tim politely tried to guide you away from the party with a hand on your lower back.

"What are you even talking about?" He laughed as he slowly herded you like a cat towards the kitchen on a higher level so you could sober up somewhere quiet.

"Do you think Taco Bell called themselves that because it sounds like Del Taco? Is that like who came first the chicken or the egg? Mmmm, my boyfriend would know..." You grab your phone to call your boyfriend, which makes Tim give you a look of almost humorous astonishment. He laughs as he picks up the phone.

"Yes, Baby? What can I do for you today, Sweetheart." He asked as he stared at you, trying not to laugh.

"I'm with this guy, and I asked him if Taco Bell came first or Del Taco, and he doesn't know...Do you know?"

"Taco Bell, I believe, Honey." You hang up your phone before looking back at Tim.

"My boyfriend said Taco Bell."

"Your boyfriend sounds really smart."

"Oh, he really is and he's so nice to me. He got like so so many squish mellows, and they're so soft." You start getting emotional, and he can see the tears in your eyes, and he realizes he needs to get you into bed quickly because the last thing he needs is to carry you through a lot of drunk party-goers.

Tim very slowly gets you back to your room and gets you laid down on the bed you two share. He grabs a squish mellow that he knows you love most and puts it in your arms.

"You know my boyfriend would really like you; you're so sweet and caring, just like he is. He wants to make sure everyone's safe and happy. He's like a cute lil guy and he's just so amazing."

His heart swells about five sizes, and he thinks it might burst. It's sweet how loyal you are when you're drunk but also how highly you think of him, it means the world to him. Just as he thought he couldn't love you more, Tim finds himself being sucked deeper and deeper into the hole that is his love for you.

Damian: "Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah. No. I have a boyfriend and he'll kick your ass." You said as you waved your finger in his face as you swayed from side to side.

"Yes, I know I am your boyfriend." He asks with a stern and annoyed look.

"Then what did I eat for breakfast and the color of my underwear?" You slurred with a smug voice.

"Cinnamon French Toast, and they're Burgundy; I know cause I made you breakfast, and I bought them."

"They're red." You giggle, which is bothering him even more; he's annoyed mainly because he needs to get you out of here. He's worried about the company around here, so therefore, he's worried about you.

"Burgundy is a color of red, Babe. Come on, we need to go. Come on, Beloved." He tries to help you up on the floor before you turn into dead weight in his arms.

"Well, isn't that just great?" He picks you up and puts you over his shoulder to get you out of the bar. Some creep acts like he might try Damian like a dumbass, he stops them in their tracks with just a single glare and his resting bitch face.

"Ha, Ha. Pussy." You laugh at the guy as Damian gets you out of the bar and twords his car.

"Hey. Hey, don't antagonize people. Lay down." He says as he puts you down in the back of the car. "Be good." He gets in the drivers seat and starts driving to the manor, he calms as he gets you both further and further away from that sketchy bar. He glances back at you every so often as he drives.

Once he parks the car he gets out and picks you up to get you inside. Between the front door and his bedroom theres a large pool of drool on his shirt from you. He smiles and lays you down before taking your heels off. Damian heads of to shower and change before climbing into the bed with you, gently moving hair away from your face that was stuck in your chapstick.

"Get some sleep, Beloved."

Send me prompts if youd like. ♡

Masterlists

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Eye Candy 🍬

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Jason Todd × chubby/curvy!reader

FINALLY. I've been wanting to get this out for forever but shit kinda hit the fan and I'm also sick right now lol

This is pure comedy. So much fun to write!! This is for all my thick girlies <3

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Jason wants you to meet his brother (Dick) and his best friend (Roy). As if that wasn't enough of a bomb, doubt starts to creep into your mind at the realization that your curves would make you stand out like a sore thumb in the Wayne family. Jason proves you wrong by taking you to a bar and letting Dick and Roy walk right into a trap.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"You want me to what?"

"Hey, it's not that big of a deal-... yeah, no, it's... it's a big deal." Jason winced, brows furrowing while he flexed his hands around his mug.

Coffee- of course it was, though it was far too late in the day for even more caffeine, or so you'd scolded him once again.

You were staring at him, slack jawed, eyes widened just slightly as a brief huff of disbelief left your lips.

"Jay, you just told me you want me to meet your family. In what world is that not a big deal?!" You exclaimed, your tone a little more screeching than you'd liked.

He sighed, shoulders dropping ever so slightly, his eyes turned away as a frown etched itself onto his features.

"It's just Roy and Dick, s'not really meeting my family." He mumbled, toying with the handle of his cup, scratching his nails against the ceramic.

"Look, you don't have to, alright? I just thought-... I guess I don't really know what I thought."

Your heart ached. You've never seen him so defeated. So utterly downtrodden. His back slouched, head hung low while his gaze was focused on anything but you.

That heartbreaking glimmer in his eyes that never failed to make your own water.

Gently, you pried the mug from his grip and set it aside, taking his hands in yours.

The action made Jason avert his attention back to you, looking like a kicked puppy.

"I do want to meet them. I really, really do. Because they are your family, whether you want to admit it or not." You smiled softly, watching as he lit up immediately, a huff of relief making his chest feel lighter.

"I'm just nervous. And worried, I suppose? What they'll think, you know. I'm sure that I'm not exactly what they imagine when they think of your girlfriend." You chuckled nervously.

Jason, on the other hand, looked confused. Eyes narrowed, You-can-see-the-gears-turning-but-nothing-is-happening confused.

"What in the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

You cackled at the expression on his face and the goofy tone of his voice.

"Okay, let me put it like this. You're family is a bunch of buff, unfairly jacked and lean super geniuses. Not to mention how good the girls look. And Kori? She's a literal space princess! I just feel like I don't quite fit in. Can you imagine someone like me at one of those Galas? They would lose their minds-"

"'Someone like you? You mean a gorgeous, beautiful, stunning plump lady with a brain so big I sometimes wonder how your neck is still intact? You mean someone like that? Because we could use more of that, trust me." He chuckled dryly.

"Also, you're hot as fuck." He deadpanned, blankly staring at you.

You playfully rolled your eyes, tracing the space between his knuckles.

"A. I know, B. you're biased. I mean, they all probably expect you to date some super model." You explained, sighing.

You knew your worth. You knew that you were beautiful and perfect just they way you are, even beginning to love yourself.

But when challenged with a family full of hotties like the Wayne's plus Gotham's elite, it was hard not to feel just a little out of place with all your curves, bumps and pudge.

Jason's lips were pressed together in a thin line before he inhaled sharply and pinned you down with his gaze.

"Alright, first of all, they have no expectation of who I'd date because I was fuckin' dead, and when I came back my only interest was revenge and smashing peoples heads in. If anything they thought I would die alone."

The bluntness of his words and the expecting raise in his brows had you shell shocked, and pleasantly surprised.

"You're making problems for yourself that don't exist, ladybird." His tone turned soft as did his eyes, enveloping your heart in a blanket of warmth.

"So, respectfully, you don't have a point." He concluded for you, leaning back against the couch with a satisfied noise.

"Huh, I guess I don't." You breathed out, a smile spreading on your face while Jason already sported a wicked grin.

"There ya go. Now, can I brag about my hot, smart and curvaceous girlfriend to my dickhead brother and loser best friend? Because, sweetheart, you're one hell of a woman." He smirked, leaning in to get you all hot and bothered by his proximity.

You bit your lip, trying to act unaffected by his antics.

"Okay, fine," You groaned, feigning annoyance, "But only because I love you." You finished, failing to hide the smile on your face.

In one swift motion, Jason grabbed you and pulled you into his lap, your back pressed firmly to his chest. You let out a startled noise that morphed into a laugh.

"See? Just had to butter you up a bit, pretty girl." He nosed at your neck, a grin showing off his pearly whites while his arms were snaked around your middle.

"What can I say? You have a way with words." You smirked, looking back at him over your shoulder.

Jason chuckled and turned you in his lap, making you face him.

"I do have a very skilled tongue, as you know." He winked at you, kneading the fat of your hips in his hands.

You groaned and rolled your eyes before grinning and pinching his cheek.

"So, you up for tomorrow? It'll just be at a shitty bar somewhere. They won't judge you, I promise. And if they do, they can take it up with Fuck-" Jason raised one arm and flexed his bicep, "and You." With a wide smile, he lifted his other arm, and you watched as his muscles practically inflated.

You giggled, squeezing his arm with an approving nod of your head.

"I'll be there. I just have some errands to run, so I'll meet you at the place, yeah?" You replied sweetly, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose.

Jason's face scrunched up at your kiss, making him look like an adorable little bunny.

"Sounds good, ladybird." He replied, smiling.

There was something hiding beneath that smile, though. Something sinister. Mischievous. You squinted your eyes at him.

"... What are you up to?" You asked suspiciously, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Who? Me? I'm not up to anything." He replied sweetly, batting his lashes at you.

"Mhm." You hummed, searching for a hint in his teal eyes.

You could see his resolve cracking, his gaze breaking from your for just a split second. You continued to stare at him. Jason cleared his throat and gave you a tight smile before striking.

Quickly, he pushed you off his lap, making you stumble to the floor of your living room on shaky legs before he lowered himself to the ground, hooking one arm around your knees and hoisting you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

You screeched, digging your hands into his hoodie so you wouldn't fall.

"What the fuck! What are you doing?!" You screamed, cracking into a smile when you heard Jason cackle mischievously.

He moved quickly, rounding the couch and any obstacles with ease.

"Well, you see, I've been stumblin' over my words all day. Care to help me loosen up my tongue at bit, doll?" He grinned, hurrying to your bedroom.

"Jason!-"

Your voice burst with a laugh before you were interrupted by a loud crack when his hand met the back of your thigh.

You gasped, quickly followed by a slap against his clothed back.

"Remember that name, angel. I have a feeling you'll be using it a lot tonight."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

"So, she coming?" Roy asked curiously, settling back into the deep-set lounge with his drink.

The redhead was seated in the middle, between the brothers, earning a shove and an annoyed eyeroll from Jason.

Dick snickered, taking a sip of his beverage.

"Why are you so obsessed with my girl, dude?"

"We just wanna make sure she's real. I'd hate to break you out of Arkham again, little wing." Dick grinned from behind the rim of his glass.

"Wow." Roy clicked his tongue, nodding along to the diabolical comment.

Jason only stared at his brother blankly, blinking once, then twice.

"Too far?" Dick asked, wincing slightly.

"Whaddya think, dickhead?" Roy sighed sharply.

"You should be so glad that I'm in therapy. Otherwise I woulda wiped the floor with you right now." Jason mumbled, taking a swig of his drink.

"It's the Piña Coladas talking." His brother chuckled awkwardly.

Jason just snorted, leaning against the soft cushions.

"To answer your question, yes, she's coming." Roy lit up, excitedly setting his beer down on the table.

"Really? So we get to meet the fabled ladybird, huh?" The redhead grinned, bumping his shoulder with Jason's.

He only shook his head and playfully rolled his eyes at Roy.

"Why didn't she come with you, then?" Dick asked, brows furrowed.

"Had to stop by the craft store." Jason replied simply, finishing his drink.

"Oh, so it's like that? You really did get yourself a pretty little thing, didn't you?" Dick smirked, watching as Jason chuckled in response.

"Dickhead's right. They not only make pieces of art, they are ones." Roy agreed.

Dick scoffed at the nickname.

"She's pretty alright. Looks like she belongs in the Louvre." Jason responded with a smile, then immediately regretting that decision when Roy and Dick began to look like the cheshire cat.

"Ooooo, Jay's in looooove." Roy teased with a chuckle.

"Did little wing find an even littler wing? That's adorable." Duck sniffled, wiping a faux tear from his lashline.

Jason grumbled in response, flipping them off.

"At least I didn't cheat on my girl." He mumbled sharply, hiding behind his second -or third?- glass of the night.

Dick's smile fell and he was reduced to a muttering mess, pouting like a child.

"God, you guys are actual children. Can I have one night-"

they both glanced at Roy when he stopped speaking, his lips parted as he stared at the entrance of the bar.

"You're lettin' flies in, carrot top." Jason said blankly.

Roy let out a low whistle, loosely gesturing to the bar before a smirk cracked on his face.

"Look at that piece of Eye Candy over there."

Dick followed his line of sight.

"Fuck me." He cursed, eyes wide.

"Look at those hips, jesus-"

"Now that's a woman."

Jason was mid sip, uninterested in this mystery woman ordering a drink at the bar. But, he glanced up anyway, only to choke on his drink when his eyes landed on you.

He sputtered, coughing as he felt the alcohol go up his nose.

"Woah, she got you good, didn't she?" Roy teased with a laugh, patting his back.

"Yep.." Jason croaked out, holding back a laugh.

"I'm telling ladybird." Dick said quickly.

Snitch.

"When will she be here anyway? It's been a while." He questioned, pulling up his sleeve to take a look at his watch.

"Soon, soon.." Jason replied, clearing his throat.

"Man, she could sit on me, and I'd thank her. And that rack-"

Roy continued letting his eyes trail over your body.

As amusing as Jason found this little misunderstanding, he couldn't help but grind his teeth and clench his fists.

Meanwhile, Dick delivered a slap to the back of Roy's head.

"Pervert! You don't talk about women like that." He scolded the redhead.

"Says you! As if you don't wanna be suffocated by those thighs or-or knock out on that tummy, I know you do!" Roy said sharply, pointing an accusing finger at Dick.

"Of course I do, but I didn't say it out loud, now did I?" He replied in a condescending tone.

"You fucking-"

"Oh, look, she's approaching us." Jason said nonchalantly, leaning back into the cushions with a grin, watching as the petty bickering between his brother and best friend stopped immediately.

"I call dibs! I saw her first." Roy said quickly, straightening his posture and trying to look unbothered while you approached.

"God fucking dammit." Dick cursed, being left to grumble with his Piña Colada.

He looked at Jason, who was comfortably leaned back with a smirk.

"How are you so chill about this?!" Dick asked irritated.

"You'll see." Jason grinned.

You walked towards them with a smile, the drink you'd just ordered at the bar in your hand. Roy put up his most charming face and quickly cleared his throat.

"Hello there, sweethea-"

his entire face dropped when you placed a hand on Jason's shoulder and pressed a kiss to his lips. His hands instinctively went to rest on your hips, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"Hi, baby." You greeted sweetly.

"Hey there, ladybird." Jason grinned, glancing at Roy and Dick.

The redheads jaw was on the floor, speechless while his gaze flitted between you and his best friend. Dick was just as shocked, but quickly broke out of it.

"THAT’S LADYBIRD?!" He yelled, earning harsh stares from other guests.

Dick quieted down with an apologetic smile and leaned closer to Jason.

"You fucking asshole! Why didn't you do anything? You let us say all those things-" at the realization Dick went pale.

"He's gonna beat our asses." Roy mumbled, still staring at you and Jason.

"... Fuck."

You just stood there dumbfounded while Jason had a grin on his face that made a shiver run down Roy's spine.

"What things?" You asked, you brows furrowed in confusion.

Jason pulled you into his lap, resting one of his hands on your thigh.

"Don't worry about it, angel." He said softly, pecking your cheek.

"How the hell did you end with such a charity case as Jason?" Roy asked bluntly, slumped in his seat, defeated.

"Excuse me?" You sputtered with a scoff.

"That's a lot of nerve coming from someone looking like an affair baby." You shot back.

Dick burst out laughing, Jason cackling along side him while Roy only stared at you.

"And she's feisty? Fuuuuuuck.." He whined.

"Nice to meet you, ladybird." Dick gave you a friendly smile and nod, still wiping the tears from his eyes.

You returned the smile before leaning in to whisper into Jason's ear.

"Is the rest of your family also like this?"

"Like what?"

"Loudmouth assholes." You replied, staring straight at Roy who looked like you just slapped his mother.

Jason laughed, throwing his head back when he saw Roy's face.

"Ah, no. Some of them are quiet assholes."

Dick scoffed, immediately defending himself and his siblings with big hand gestures.

You chuckled as you watched.

"Don't be sad, carrot top," Jason began, giving Roy's shoulder a squeeze, "You couldn't handle her if you tried."

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Jason loves fat girls. Argue with the wall <3

Let me know what you think! 😚🩷

More of Jason and others -> 💫

《DC Taglist》: @allysunny @arkhamknightscxnt @gaozorous-rex-blog @hellonhells-x

Comment to be added 🐝🫧

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[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"I bet on losing dogs"

ok this is like my first time actually writing anything EVER, and I don't know how to work tumblr or make this aesthetic so bare with me pls!! I keep seeing yandere batfam x neglected reader and I have had so many ideas so I'm giving this a shot! The reader is referred to with female pronouns but you can imagine it different if you want :) Reader is 2 years older than Damian and is 15 at the start of the story. Damian is 13. Dick is around 10 years older than reader, making him 25 right now. Jason is 8 years older than reader, making him 23. Tim is 2 years older than reader making him 17. Cass is 4 years older than reader and is 19. Stephanie is 3 years older than reader and is 18. Barbra is around 8 years older, making her 23! Bruce is around 35-40ish??? All just kinda guesses to make the plot and dynamics more clear, lmk if you have any questions!!

This is the prolouge and it kinda sucks so pls be nice. Hearts and comments are appreciated. If it's bad ignore it, english isn't my first language. Chapter one:, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4:

You couldn't understand it. You aren't a bad kid, so why were you treated like one? Why did your father treat you like the bane of his existence? Why did your older brothers see you as nothing more than dirt at the bottom of their shoes, a ghost in the manor, a blemish on their picture perfect family of misfits. You tried so so hard to fit in, to be part of the family. You wasted 11 YEARS of your life trying to get noticed, doing activities and hobbies you hated in the hopes of striking conversation with your "siblings". Batman, Bruce Wayne, your "father", ignored you no matter what. He ignored you like it was his job, from the day you came to the manor on your fourth birthday, your mother's death day, to today, your 15th birthday. You saved his life, his and all those other ungrateful losers who you used to call family. Yesterday, you put you life on the line for them, got bitten by that damn snake for them, and they ignored you and told you to walk it off while coddling the girl who suddenly appeared. Never again would you help them, nor would you brush off their mistreatment, not after this betrayal. Not after they took in another girl, a girl your age, the girl who took credit for your heroic act, the girl who bullied you for years at Gotham Prep, the girl who made your life living hell, and called HER family. They choose Tiffany Maverick to be their supposed savior, they would never believe you had the bravery to help them. They chose her to be Tiffany Wayne and scorned you.

You did nothing wrong, from the day you came to the manor you were perfect. Straight A's, no attitude, no complaints and no demands. All you did was try, try, try, and they never noticed.

Richard "The Dick" Grayson, as you and your friends call him, was the world's best big brother to everyone, except you of course! He was your first brother, he was the kid that Bruce Wayne actually wanted to take under his wing. You were 5 and he was 15, he was busy being Robin and then Nightwing. Alfred assured you that Dick adored you, you were his baby sister after all, he was just busy! In later years you realized he was only busy when it came to you. He made time for Damian no matter what, always attended Cassandra's ballet recitals, chatted with Tim and ruffled his hair, and he even dealt with Jason's snarky attitude and biting remarks. Yet, somehow when it came to you, he never had time. Always brushing you off with a shoulder pat and a "Maybe next time sweetheart!" and rolling his eyes when he thought you weren't looking. He's been making time for Tiffany or Tiffybear, as he loves to call her while pinching her cheeks and calling her his favorite little sister, "Don't tell Cass though!" he'll whisper to her. You don't even think he can remember your name. Or that once upon a time you were his "baby bird."

It makes you sick watching her take credit for everything, she's only been in the manor for 6 months and they've all given her more love than they have to you in the past 11 years. She took credit for all your awards, she told everyone she was top of your class, made them "homemade" cakes and muffins. It was all you. She stole everything.

Jason Todd, the red hood, was so mean to you. You used to admire him, looked up to him, and he took all your kind words and gestures for granted and spit them back in your face. Once upon a time, he was your favorite brother, you wanted to be as confident and unshakeable as him, it didn't matter how mean he was now because he was you brother and you loved him. The bond you had before his death was something you couldn't let go of, he was the only one who loved you. When he first came to the manor he was 12 and you came a couple months later. An adorable 4 year old who followed her favorite brother like a duckling. You were 7 when he died. You were 12 when he came back to haunt Bruce and Dick and Tim. You chased after him and tried to resurrect the bond you had for 3 long years. You gave up when you saw them. You couldn't believe your eyes when you saw him and Tiffany sneaking out the manor on a school night, you almost threw up when you saw him strap her on his motorcycle and leave for hours. They came back with shit-eating grins and cupcakes for everyone from a 24hr bakery, everyone except you. The bakery you asked him to take you to months ago. Tiffany saw the tears in your eyes and your clenched fists and she laughed.

Timothy Drake-Wayne, you first saw him after Jason died. Tim, in your 10 year old mind, was trying to steal your dad. Bruce ignored you even more after Jason's death and shut everyone out. Your bond with Tim was non-existent no matter how hard you tried. After you realized he wasn't trying to replace Jason, and saw how he was helping your father heal in ways you couldn't, you tried to bond with him. You attempted to play his video games and ignored his complete disintrest in you and anything that had to do with you in hopes he might come to appreciate you. You brought him coffee after long patrols, asked him about his day, asked to meet his friends, you picked up all his hobbies like hacking, cooking, reading even martial arts and yet he ignored you. You tried to find him in hallways at school, only to be treated like a stranger when you found him. He was embarrassed that you were his sister. You were chubby and awkward and didn't have many friends, he didn't want his cool kid friends to know you were his sister. For 5 long years you chased after him, for 5 years you chased a ghost, and somehow Tiffany captured his attention using one of the gadget-thingys you made in hopes to impress him. She walks the hallways of Gotham Prep with him, a perfect sibling duo, he even had her lunch moved so she could sit with him and his friends. He wasn't embarrassed of her. You watched them get closer in 6 months than you have in 5 years. And it hurt.

But perhaps what hurt most is her newfound bond with Damian. Your baby brother. You tried the hardest with Damian, almost as hard as you tried with Bruce, and yet he chose her while all you got was a sword to your neck and sneers of disgust thrown your way. Damian moved in when you were 12. You were elated, if you couldn't have good older siblings, at least you could be one! That plan went to hell when you realized Damian saw you as less than him. No matter how hard you tried, returned your love with disgust. You tried to show him around school like you wished Tim did for you and he called you " A waste of space and Wayne DNA" and said that there was no way you were of "Wayne" blood and that your "whore of a mother" had to have deceived his father, in front of your two friends and half the school. You could've handled his cruel words if he didn't begin attempting to duel you to become your father's heir. About a year ago, when you tried to hug him he threw you down the stairs and you broke your ankle, you stopped trying with him after that. He was so possessive over Bruce and now that somehow transferred to Tiffany too. You'd feel bad for her if she wasn't eating his obsession with her up.

Barbra, Cassandra, and Stephanie were the "It girls." All practically sisters, they hung out almost everyday and had sleepovers every Friday. They giggled about boys, hook-ups, missions and bonded over everything. You wanted be one of them, you tried so hard to be cool, to be pretty, and they could only see your flaws. You curled your hair and did your nails in hope you would blend with them, you even attempted to be Batgirl at one point. You were quickly denied after Stephanie pointed out that you didn't have the right 'physique' for it. Barbra quickly agreed and said you weren't cut out for it, Cassandra simply looked you up and down. Thats why it hurt extra when they welcomed Tiffany with open arms. Suddenly, she could be Batgirl. She talked to them about boys and bonded with them over girl things. She stole your sisters.

You figured out Tiffany was a spy almost as soon as she came into the manor. Her apperance and ability to act like it was her who saved the Bats from the Joker and his new radioactive snake was not a coincidence, neither was her becoming a vigilante only two weeks after coming into the manor, and neither was you catching her walking out the Batcave with arms full of Batman's weapons and plans. You couldn't believe your luck and pulled out your phone to take a picture, too bad you left the flash on. Tiffany quickly noticed you and tried to explain that it was a misunderstanding when Bruce came into the hallway. You beamed at the sight of him and began to explain what you saw Tiffany doing, only Tiffany was faster. She was quick to blame you for everything, and Batman, the world's greatest detective believed her. She said that you bullied her at school and you were so jealous of her joining the family that you went to steal plans and took pictures to frame her. It was a shitty lie and somehow everyone believed it. You still remember the cold indifference on Bruce's face, the sadness on Alfred's, the look of pure delight on Damian's, the shock on Dick's, the interest on Tim's and the disappointment and disgust on Jason's. Something shifted in you that night. You didn't feel an overwhelming amount of love and longing when you looked at your family, you felt anger. Pure unadultered rage, rage at Bruce for never loving you, rage at Dick for being a liar, rage at Jason for throwing away your bond and cool indifference and disgust at the rest of them.

Maybe that's why your abilities finally formed. Maybe thats why the place the snake bit you that fateful night began to glow as you cried in your bathtub, after being scolded all night and getting body slammed by Damian for trying to "taint his dear sister's image". You had powers now, the agility of a snake, you could eject venom out of your fingertips, you could walk on walls, now you could prove them all wrong.

okayyyy yall this was the prolouge. Again this is my 1st attempt at writing so be nice. If enough people like this I'll put out part one. Hope yall enjoyed and lmk what you want to happen next in the comments!!!!!!!!!

[jungkoode]

𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 24

⋆｡°✩ mirrors ✩°｡⋆

"When you're dealing with Jason, who talks about literature like it matters and opens car doors, the friendship bracelet feels like something from a different version of you. One that's messier, pettier, still half-formed."

next | index

⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 8k

content: coffee dates with intelectual men (jason derulooooo), friendship bracelet anxiety, protective!yoongi, mia aftermath discussions, tessa planning

✧ author's note ✧

Okay. Before you all start side-eyeing Jason for breathing, let's set something straight—you're biased. And you're totally valid for that.

This is a Jungkook x Reader fanfic. Obviously, we're all rooting for the emotionally constipated trauma boy who talks with his eyes and stores all his feelings behind gym towels and granola bars. I get it. I'm rooting for him too. But Jason is not here to steal your man. He's here to teach. To nudge. To trigger reflection. He's not necessarily here to stay—but he is important. For Y/N. For her growth. For us to see what it looks like when she's treated decently on surface level, so we can question what actually feels good, and what merely feels safe.

Jason, like every man I write, is not perfect. (You'd think I'd spare at least one of them but alas, I'm God here and a mean one.) Y/N is looking at him through rose-colored glasses—yes, that's intentional. But this is not your cue to dissect him like a frog and declare "something about him rubs me wrong, Kiki please kill him." Let's calm down, Hannibal. Not every man who isn't Jungkook is a villain in this story.

And speaking of bias—let's talk about Y/N. I want to gently remind you all: this story is told through her perspective. That means the narration is not omniscient. It's filtered through a lens of impulsivity, self-sabotage, and defense mechanisms. She's in her 20s and emotionally immature in ways that mirror her environment, her upbringing, her trauma. So yes—you'll read lines where she praises Jason and drags Jungkook through the mud like he owes her money. That's part of her architecture. Not mine. I don't write self-insert. I write character. And Y/N is doing what a lot of us do—projecting simplicity onto what's new and shiny, and demonizing what's familiar and complicated.

Because when you're operating from trauma, you fixate on the flaws that allow you to detach. On the safe narrative. Jungkook is socks on the couch. Jungkook is dumb. Jungkook is the roommate who yells too loudly when he's playing CoD. Not Jungkook who didn't burst into his bedroom during her panic attack because he knew she wouldn't want to be seen. Not Jungkook who's messy, perhaps not attentive when it comes to mugs in the sink—but attentive in the things that matter.

So yes. Y/N is unfair toward Jungkook in this chapter. And Jungkook is unfair toward her, too. And they will keep on being unfair and you'll want to scream and you'll say 'they're stupid' and yes they are. That's the point. That's humanity. That's how we cope—through flawed logic and messy defenses. It's ugly and real and mine.

Tessa. Let's go there. I've said it before, but I'll reiterate it loud enough for the back rows: Tessa is not the villain. She's not here to be the hot girl we all collectively throw into a fictional toilet. She's kind. She's respectful. She shares common interests with Jungkook. She's doing her thing. And that's exactly why she throws Y/N off. Because it would be easier to hate her if she were rude. If she were smug. But she's not. And that's the dissonance. That's the discomfort. Tessa would probably be a friend if the circumstances were different. But she's not. She's interested in Jungkook. And Y/N is sleeping with Jungkook. So while jealousy isn't the correct word, there's still that… gut feeling. That primal "mine" that you don't have to be in love to feel. Especially when someone's the only person who's ever made you feel wanted and safe in your body. (She did say he knows where the clit is. Let's not forget that.)

And Jungkook—again, for all his confusion and emotional hoarding—does not make fun of her for liking things. He forces her to confront her wants, to allow herself to enjoy things without guilt. Encourages them. Creates space for them. And she doesn't consciously realize that. But subconsciously? It's why she's defensive. Why she's scared of losing it.

Last thing I'll touch on: Yoongi. Because I love the way he shows up here—not loud, not meddling, but present. I made a point of explaining his schedule (beyond just plot convenience lmao) because I think it's important to portray him realistically. He's a producer. He's constantly working. And yet, when he is home, he doesn't overstep. He doesn't offer gossip. He doesn't reveal Jungkook's mess. He respects Jungkook's boundaries. He gives Y/N a branch. A little nudge. And if you know Yoongi, you know that's massive. That's someone who sees pain but respects the privacy of it. That's how love shows up in quiet friendships.

So yeah. That's Chapter 24. Not a love story. Not yet. It's a story about mirrors. About coping. About not knowing what you want until someone else tries to hand it to you, and you flinch.

Enjoy Jason while he's here. He's the first of some.

Now go read. Come back messy.

Love, Kiki (who writes enemies-to-lovers and then gets mad when they don't like each other yet) (ಥ﹏ಥ)

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

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Turns out seventy-something grandmothers also read vampire and werewolf books. 

Sunday shifts at Barnes & Noble are usually dead—just you, the books, and the occasional lost tourist looking for the bathroom. 

But today feels off-kilter, like everything's been shifted two inches to the left. 

You keep catching yourself touching the bracelet on your wrist, the beads spelling "ROGUE" pressed against your skin, a constant reminder of last night's decisions.

You still haven't taken it off. Haven't even considered it, really, which is weird because it's just a stupid tacky bracelet. Wearing it shouldn't mean anything. It's not like you and Jungkook are actually friends.

Are you?

…No. Definitely not. Just roommates who occasionally don't want to murder each other. Roommates who sometimes have really good sex. Roommates who made matching bracelets in a moment of insanity.

Fuck, that does sound like friendship.

"Excuse me, dear?"

The voice pulls you from your spiral, and you realize you've been staring at the same page of inventory for at least two minutes. 

The woman standing at your register is tiny, maybe five feet tall on a good day, with perfectly coiffed silver hair and pearl earrings that are definitely not fake.

"Sorry," you mutter, quickly scanning the five hardcover books she's placed on the counter. The entire Twilight saga, special edition with gold-edged pages. "Did you find everything okay?"

"Oh yes, thank you," she says, pulling out a wallet that looks expensive in that understated way rich people prefer. "My book club is doing a throwback month. We're revisiting our guilty pleasures."

You nod absently, focusing on bagging the books without making eye contact. Just get through this transaction and then you can go back to questioning your life choices in peace.

"So," she says as you process her credit card, "Team Edward or Team Jacob?"

Your head snaps up, certain you've misheard.

"I'm sorry?"

"The eternal question," she says with a wink. "Which supernatural suitor would you choose? The brooding vampire or the hot-headed werewolf?"

Is this happening? Is this actually happening right now? 

You stare at her, completely dumbfounded. 

She's got to be at least seventy, wearing a cashmere cardigan and sensible heels, asking you about fictional teen heart-throbs like you're at a middle school sleepover.

You open your mouth to give some non-committal answer, but then you remember Dora from the laundry room. How quickly you'd dismissed her as a cranky old lady, only to discover she was just a widow feeling lonely. 

Maybe this woman is the same—just looking for a moment of connection in her day.

"I'm honestly Team Alice," you say, surprising yourself with the genuine smile that forms. "She was probably a better choice than either of those two drama queens."

The woman's face lights up with delight. 

"Oh! Bold choice. I like that." She leans in conspiratorially, lowering her voice. "I'm Team Edward, myself. I guess I like old men after all."

A startled laugh escapes before you can stop it. "He is like a hundred years old in a teenager's body. Very problematic."

"Precisely why it's a guilty pleasure, my dear," she says, accepting the bag you hand her. "The best kind of fiction lets us enjoy things we'd find appalling in real life."

There's something weirdly profound about that statement coming from a pearl-wearing grandmother buying vampire romance novels on a Sunday afternoon.

"Enjoy your book club," you say, meaning it.

"I will. And you enjoy whatever team you're on," she replies with a wink, nodding toward your wrist where the friendship bracelet sits.

Before you can respond, she's walking away, her heels clicking rhythmically against the floor. 

You stare after her, feeling like you've just had some kind of surreal encounter with a Twilight-loving fairy godmother.

The rest of your shift passes in a blur of restocking shelves and helping lost customers find the bathroom. 

By the time you clock out, the Twilight grandma feels like a fever dream—something your brain made up to break the monotony. But the conversation stays with you, an unexpected bright spot in an otherwise tedious day.

You're still thinking about it when you unlock the apartment door three hours later.

"Hello?" you call out, dropping your keys on the entry table with a clatter.

Nothing.

The apartment is empty, the silence confirming what you already knew—you've got the place to yourself. 

No Yoongi with his silent judgment. No Griffin with his judgmental silence. And no Jungkook with his... 

…

Whatever.

You check your phone. 

An hour and a half until you're supposed to meet Jason for coffee. 

Plenty of time to shower away the retail grime and maybe even put on something that doesn't scream ‘I've been folding books for eight hours.’

As if sensing your thoughts, your phone pings with a text.

𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧: 𝚂𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 4? 𝚆𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚞𝚙? 

You bite back a smile. 

He's offering to pick you up? So he remembers where he dropped you off that one time after class? 

That's... actually kind of sweet. A guy who actually pays attention to details.

It's refreshing after dealing with Jungkook, who once put an empty milk carton back in the fridge and claimed he ‘didn't notice’ it was empty. Like someone just happened to drink all the milk and then carefully put the empty container back exactly where they found it. 

Idiot.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: ��𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜! 𝚂𝚎𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚝 𝟺 ❤️

You don’t know why you’re using proper caps now, or why you add the heart emoji. It’s all without thinking, and you stare at it for a solid five seconds wondering if it's too much. 

But it's already sent, and honestly, it's just an emoji. Not like you're proposing marriage.

As you scroll back through your messages, another unread text catches your eye. From last night. When your phone pinged during the bracelet exchange with Jungkook.

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚑𝚎𝚢! 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚝𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝! 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚘 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞! 𝚖𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚎 𝚠𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚋 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎? 𝚒'𝚖 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚍𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚎! 🥰

Oh.

Oh right.

Tessa from last night. The literal goddess with perfect hair who wanted your advice about dating Jungkook. The girl you told to go for it because, why not? He could do a lot worse than someone genuinely nice and put-together. 

You stare at the text for a long moment, trying to figure out what to say to that. Because it’s weird. It feels weird.

No, the weird feeling is probably just that you're not sure you want to get involved in Jungkook's love life. It's one thing to suggest Tessa make a move, but playing matchmaker? Giving ongoing advice? That's crossing into territory that feels uncomfortably personal.

Plus, you're kind of sleeping with him. Would be weird to help another girl date your fuck buddy. Not because you care who else he sleeps with—you don't. Obviously. But it would just be... awkward.

And what would you even say? ‘Hey Tessa, here's how to seduce my roommate: play hard to get, argue with him constantly, then jump his bones when he least expects it. Works for me!’

Yeah, no.

You set your phone down without replying. You'll deal with Tessa later. After your coffee with Jason. After you've had a shower and maybe some time to think about how to navigate this bizarre social situation you've somehow landed in.

As you head to the bathroom, you catch your reflection in the hallway mirror. You look tired, a little rumpled from your shift, but not terrible. Your eyes drift down to the colorful beads circling your wrist. ROGUE, spelled out in childish letter beads. 

You could take it off. Probably should, honestly. It's not like you're twelve, wearing friendship bracelets with your BFF.

But your fingers don't move toward the clasp. 

Instead, you just turn away from the mirror and continue toward the bathroom.

It's just a bracelet. It doesn't mean anything.

You'll take it off tomorrow.

Funny how a look can make you remember what it’s like to feel beautiful.

Jason’s car is clean. Not serial killer clean, but neat in a way that feels vaguely impressive for a guy who’s in grad school and not living off a diet of ramen and emotional repression. 

When you slide into the passenger seat, your dress rides up just a little, and you catch him glance—brief, polite, but definitely there. 

You don’t blame him. You look good.

Hair curled. Lip gloss strawberry-slick. Earrings you almost forgot you owned. The black dress is simple but it fits just right, hugging the curve of your waist like it was designed to hold you together when you forget how. 

You’d like to pretend you don’t care what Jason thinks, but you shaved above the knee and sprayed perfume behind your knees, so.

He smiles when he sees you, soft and almost surprised. “Hey. Wow.”

‘Wow’. Not ‘you look nice’, not ‘I like your dress’. 

Just wow, like he wasn’t prepared for this version of you.

Like he’s seeing you, not the outfit.

You kind of love that.

“Hey yourself.” 

You buckle in and feel the nerves pull tighter in your chest. You’re not used to being nervous anymore. You’ve fucked your way through worse situations than this. 

But this isn’t sex. This is coffee. 

Somehow infinitely more exposing.

The drive is short, music low—Jason puts on some indie playlist that’s equal parts folky and hipster, and you catch lyrics about moons and bones and the way someone smells in spring. He doesn’t talk much on the way, but it’s not awkward. Just quiet. Thoughtful. There’s a kind of comfort in that, in not having to fill every second with chatter.

When you arrive, you wonder if you’ve accidentally agreed to a second location with a man who might bankrupt you. 

Because this coffee shop? It is sleek and minimalist, all marble tables and matte-black finishes, the kind of place where the baristas wear aprons and pour water like they’re performing surgery.

And holy shit, it smells amazing. Not in the burnt hazelnut way you’re used to from campus cafés, but rich, deep—vanilla and cinnamon and fresh grounds that probably cost more per ounce than your soul.

Jason holds the door open for you. Doesn’t make a big deal of it. Just does it like it’s second nature. And okay, fine, you notice that. You’re not made of stone.

You order the strawberry latte on a whim, mostly because the flavor name makes you smile—‘blushberry blossom’ (c’mon that’s such a cute name)—and partly because the idea of something pink and ridiculous feels like rebellion in a place this serious. Jason, for his part, gets a cortado.

You sit by the window, where light slants in gold and sharp across the marble, catching on the rim of your cup and your collarbone. 

Here, the world outside feels very far away—no Griffin knocking shit over, no roommates stomping around the apartment like emotional hurricanes. Just soft jazz and clinking spoons and the man across from you who keeps doing this thing where he leans in slightly when you talk, like he doesn’t want to miss anything you say.

“You really think that about Bishop?” he asks, eyebrows up.

You nod. “Yeah. I mean, it’s not that I think she hated women, but there’s definitely an internalized thing going on in the way she writes about domesticity. Like she’s performing detachment because that’s the only way to survive inside it.”

Jason exhales, a quiet sound of admiration. “That’s really smart.”

You shrug, suddenly a little too warm. 

Compliments on your appearance are easy to swat away. 

This kind—the you’re actually intelligent and I’m listening to you kind—sticks in your chest like static.

Your latte arrives, delicate as hell. Pale pink with foamy swirls and a single edible flower floating on top. Instagram bait. You take a sip, expecting something syrupy and fake, but it’s…

Huh.

You pause. Purse your lips. The taste is sweet, but not in a candy way. More like… too smooth. Like it’s missing bitterness. But it’s fine. Just—off, somehow. 

Not bad, just… not what you were expecting. 

You take another sip.

Still weird. Still fine.

You say nothing. Just keep talking, keep leaning into the conversation, because Jason’s eyes are lit up and he’s asking you questions like he actually cares about the answers.

You talk about poetry, about undergrad nonsense, about that one professor who only teaches in metaphors and might actually be a tree in disguise. Jason laughs at your jokes and adds his own and it’s easy. Like, actually easy. Like your brain isn’t doing somersaults trying to predict the next emotional landmine.

Halfway through the drink, he glances down at your wrist and tilts his head.

“Is that… a friendship bracelet?”

You glance at it before you remember it’s there. 

Your hand had been resting on the table, fingers curled lightly around your cup, the ROGUE beads facing up like they want to be seen.

Shit.

You forgot you were still wearing it. In fact, haven’t you been wearing it all day? All shift. Through your shower. Through putting on perfume. Through curling your hair. Through walking out the door knowing someone might see it.

You pull your wrist back instinctively. Not fast enough to be defensive, just enough to make it clear you hadn’t meant for it to be a conversation piece.

Jason doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t tease. Just raises his eyebrows, curious but not unkind.

“Oh,” you say, pretending it’s nothing. “Yeah. It’s—stupid. A joke, kind of.”

Jason’s brow furrows. “No, it’s cool. I mean, it’s cute. Just wasn’t expecting that from you.”

You laugh, a little too fast. “Yeah, me neither.”

“It’s not a bad look,” he offers. “Very… I don’t know. Vintage, maybe?”

He says it in the tone of someone trying to offer reassurance, not judgment. 

And that’s the thing, because he hasn’t said anything bad about it. 

It’s you. 

You feel it. That quiet little itch of self-consciousness blooming under your skin. 

And suddenly you are twelve years old, and someone just caught you doodling hearts in your notebook. 

You feel… silly.

Not because it’s a dumb bracelet—it is—but because it’s on your wrist in this place, with this person. 

With Jason, who talks about literature like it matters, who picked you up on time, who smells like sandalwood and books, who looks at you like he’s trying to memorize your mouth.

The bracelet feels like something from a different version of you. One that’s messier, pettier, still half-formed. The version that knocks Jungkook’s protein powder off the counter just to watch him flinch. The one who keeps secrets in locked journals under the bed.

You press your wrist lightly against your thigh under the table, hiding it without really hiding it. Jason doesn’t press. He just sips his coffee and asks what you think about Rainer Maria Rilke.

You tell him. You talk about how Letters to a Young Poet changed the way you understood loneliness. About how writing doesn’t have to be for anyone else. About how maybe there’s something holy about solitude when it’s chosen.

He listens like the world’s on mute.

And maybe, just maybe, you start to believe the things you’re saying. Maybe you start to feel like someone worth listening to.

“You should read this essay by Gilbert and Gubar,” he says, pulling out his phone to make a note. “I’ll send you the link. It’s about the madwoman in the attic as a feminist symbol. Might give you some interesting perspectives.”

“That would be great,” you say, soft smile tugging at your lips. 

It’s been ages since you’ve had a conversation like this—someone who not only gets your academic interests but actively engages with them.

“You’re really smart, you know that?” he says suddenly, setting down his mug. “Like, genuinely insightful. You should consider applying to graduate programs.”

The compliment catches you off guard, warmth spreading through your chest. 

“I’ve thought about it,” you admit. “But it’s competitive. And expensive.”

“True,” he nods. “But there are fellowships. And based on what I’ve heard from you in class and now, I think you’d have a shot.”

You take another sip of your too-sweet latte to hide how pleased you are. It’s not that you need validation, but… okay, maybe you do, a little. Who doesn’t?

“I could help you look into programs, if you want,” he offers. “No pressure, just… I know the landscape pretty well.”

“That would be amazing, actually,” you say, meaning it.

By the time you’ve both finished your drinks, the afternoon light has shifted. You’ve been talking for over two hours, and it’s only when you check your phone that you realize how much time has passed.

“I should probably get you home,” Jason says, checking his watch reluctantly. “I’ve got a stack of papers to grade before tomorrow.”

“Right,” you nod, equally reluctant to end the afternoon. “Teaching assistant duties call.”

“Unfortunately,” he sighs, then brightens. “But I’d love to do this again. Maybe dinner next time?”

“I’d like that,” you say, and you really would.

After 10 minutes in his car, you think he’s turning toward your apartment. 

You’re wrong.

Jason’s blinker flicks left instead of right, merging smoothly into traffic like this isn’t a diversion. Like it’s part of the plan.

You glance over, raising an eyebrow. “Um. Home’s the other way.”

He smiles, eyes still on the road. “I know. I wanted to show you something first.”

Your chest flutters—nothing dramatic, just a soft little hum, like the opening notes of a song you don’t recognize but already like. You sink back into the seat and let yourself be curious.

The drive winds west, toward the river, buildings falling away into stretches of old brick warehouses and glass condo towers that look like they belong in an entirely different version of your life. One where you probably own a milk frother and know what saffron tastes like.

Jason doesn’t say much, just tunes the radio to some local jazz station and hums softly along. The golden hour light cuts sideways through the windshield, warm and syrupy, painting the world in blush and amber.

He pulls over near a quiet overlook, where the road widens into a shoulder and the guardrail curls just enough to frame the view. The Hudson stretches wide in front of you, molasses-slow and glittering under a sky that’s all pinks and orange melt, the kind of sunset you always say you’ll watch more often but never do.

He doesn’t make it a thing. Just kills the engine, unbuckles his seatbelt, and nods toward the passenger side.

“Come on.”

You follow, caught in that half-stunned, half-swoony state that makes your steps feel floaty. 

The air outside is cooler than you expect, touched with that river dampness that curls around your ankles and lifts the hair on your arms. The water looks like glass, rippling only when the wind brushes across it.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, stepping closer to the edge. 

The view is stupid. Like, actually unfair. The sky’s a cliché in real time—cotton candy pink and tangerine and just the faintest smear of lavender toward the edges. 

You pull out your phone without thinking, framing the scene like muscle memory.

One shot.

Then another.

Then one with your shoulder in the corner, just to prove you were here.

Jason stands a little off to the side, hands in the pockets of his coat. 

He’s not watching the view—he’s watching you look at the view, which somehow makes it feel even more unreal.

“I didn’t want the date to end in a parking lot,” he says quietly.

You smile down at your phone, thumbs already moving. You pick the best one, swipe through a filter, drop the saturation just a little. Caption: this sky is a lie and I’m letting it.

You post without thinking. It’s just a sunset. It’s just a moment. But it feels worth remembering.

A notification pops up a few seconds later. Like.

Then another.

Then—

35mmghost liked your photo.

You blink.

Snort.

Okay. What?

You don’t say anything, just stare at the name for a beat longer than necessary. 

35mmghost. 

That is… not what you expected Jason’s Instagram handle to be. If it is Jason’s. Which would be hilarious. And weirdly endearing.

You flick a glance toward him. He’s smiling to you, with his phone between his fingers. Like you just caught him.

He just pockets it and gazes out at the river like he’s trying to memorize it. 

You file it away. Not important. Probably. Just… cute.

Jason, apparently, has a secret artsy side. 

And a dramatic username.

Ghost, really?

You like it. Quietly. Silently. The same way he let you have the view.

He doesn’t know you noticed. Doesn’t try to impress you with it.

And for once, you don’t overanalyze. You just let yourself stand there, cheeks a little pink from the wind and the compliment still buzzing somewhere behind your ribs, watching the sky slide into dusk like it’s not even trying to be beautiful.

Like it just is.

When he finally drives you home, you find yourself feeling lighter than you have in weeks. 

There’s something refreshingly straightforward about Jason. 

No games, no cryptic comments, no emotional whiplash. 

Just a smart, mature guy who seems genuinely interested in you.

When he pulls up to your building, he gets out to open your door again—which still feels like something from a movie rather than real life.

“Thanks for today,” you say, standing awkwardly on the sidewalk. 

Is this the part where you kiss? You’re not sure what the protocol is here.

Jason solves the dilemma with a warm smile and a slight step back—respecting your space in that careful way that somehow makes him even more attractive.

"Thank you for making my Sunday exponentially better," he says.

It's such a nerdy, earnest thing to say that you can't help but smile. 

"Exponentially, huh?"

"At least by a factor of ten," he confirms with a grin. "I'll text you about dinner?"

"Sounds good."

You watch him drive away, a pleasant buzz of anticipation tingling in your chest about seeing him again. 

For once, your love life seems straightforward and uncomplicated. 

A mature guy who's exactly what he appears to be. What a fucking novelty.

When you finally make it upstairs, the apartment is still quiet. Still empty. 

You kick your shoes off at the door and shrug off your coat, fingers catching on the thin leather strap of your bag. You leave it on the couch and walk straight to your room, not bothering to turn on any lights. 

There’s enough spill from the windows to see by—blue-gray and soft, the city humming faint in the background like a lullaby that never really ends.

You catch your reflection in the mirror again. 

Dress still hugging you right, lip gloss faded but not completely gone. Your cheeks are flushed in that way that feels natural, earned. 

You look good. You feel good.

But your gaze drifts. Down to your wrist.

There it is. Bright and stupid and clunky against the sleek black of your dress. 

ROGUE.

It looks even more ridiculous now than it did in the café. Like a tacky souvenir trying to pass in a room full of doctoral candidates.

You sigh.

It’s not that you’re ashamed of it, exactly. 

Just… aware of it. 

In a way you weren’t before. 

Aware of what it signals—about you, about the you that exists in here, in this apartment. 

The one who fights over fridge space and burns frozen pizza and still hides snacks under the bed like you’re prepping for an apocalypse Jungkook might eat through.

Jason didn’t make you feel bad about it. Not at all. 

But there was that little jolt of being seen in a way you didn’t mean to be. Like wearing pajamas to class by mistake.

You run your thumb over the beads. They’re slightly warm from your skin, the elastic stretched just enough to make a faint indent on your wrist. 

It’s silly. 

So fucking silly. 

You shouldn’t have even worn it out. It doesn’t belong in cafés with marble tables and edible flowers. Doesn’t belong with guys who talk about Rilke and open your door and make you feel like your brain is the most interesting thing about you.

It belongs here. Inside these walls. In the shared chaos of mismatched mugs and territorial coffee wars and Griffin sleeping on your face. 

It belongs in the version of you that forgets to do laundry and screams at reality TV and gets off with your roommate like it’s just another way to burn through stress.

Maybe it’s time to choose. Or at least… edit.

You slide the bracelet off. Slowly. Carefully. Set it down on your dresser, next to the copy of The Bell Jar you’ve been meaning to reread and a half-burnt candle that smells like peaches and something faintly smoky.

You’ll still wear it sometimes. Just not… when you go out with Jason. Not when you want to feel sleek and composed and like maybe, just maybe, you’re building something a little more deliberate than chaos. 

Maybe that’s okay.

You leave it where it is.

And you don’t stop to think whether Jungkook is even wearing it at all.

“You’re alive?”

The words slip out before you can stop them, a bit too loud for a quiet apartment and a bit too sarcastic for someone who just walked through the front door. 

But it’s Yoongi. You’re pretty sure he came out of the womb with a glare and noise-cancelling headphones.

He gives you a flat look, keys jingling as he kicks the door shut behind him. 

No hello, no how was your day, just a flick of his eyes from your face to your bare legs stretched across the coffee table, one foot propped up like you’re posing for a toenail polish ad no one asked for.

“Didn’t expect you home,” you add, waving your freshly painted big toe in his direction. “Figured you were off ghosting the apartment all weekend like usual.”

He drops his messenger bag by the door with a soft thud, shrugs like the weight of being perceived is too much.

“Didn’t have that much work today,” he says, deadpan, already halfway to the kitchen. “Been overworking all week. Even I get tired of being productive.”

You blink. “Wait—you work on Sundays?”

“I work always,” he calls back, grabbing a mug from the cabinet like it personally offended him. “What’s your point?”

You roll your eyes, adjusting your foot on the arm of the couch so the polish doesn’t smudge. 

“My point is, maybe stop pretending you’re not a person and do something degenerate for once. Watch trash TV. Go outside.”

“I went outside,” he mutters, reaching for the coffee grounds. “Regret it.”

“You’re making coffee now?” You glance at the clock. “You’ll be awake all night.”

“Mm,” Yoongi says, which is less a response and more a vibe. “Not like I’ve slept properly in a week anyway.”

“That sounds healthy,” you sing, flicking the cap back onto the nail polish bottle. 

You don’t know when this stopped being weird—talking to him like this. 

It’s not friendship, exactly, but it’s not not that either. 

Comfortable-ish. Low maintenance. The kind of dynamic that doesn’t need checking in.

Griffin trots out from wherever he was napping, tail flicking with that ‘where the fuck is my dinner, peasants’ energy.

You lean over and scratch behind his ear. “Still no sign of your boy?”.

Yoongi shrugs —his primary form of communication—then cups his hands around his mouth and yells, “JUNGKOOK!”

The silence that follows is answer enough.

“Nah, he’s not home,” Yoongi confirms unnecessarily.

You roll your eyes, screwing the cap back on your nail polish. “Thanks for the thorough investigation.”

You go back to focusing on your second foot, tongue poking out slightly as you try not to smear the top coat. 

Then—

“Hey,” he says, casual but not. “By the way…”

You pause, brush hovering mid-air.

“…I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

Your stomach drops. 

Those words never precede anything good. 

Is he kicking you out? Did you do something wrong? Is the rent going up? Did he find your secret stash of chocolate-covered pretzels hidden behind the rice?

“Okay…” you say cautiously, sitting up straighter. “What’s up?”

Yoongi takes a sip of his coffee, still not meeting your eyes. The silence stretches just long enough to make your anxiety spike before he finally speaks.

“It’s about Jungkook.”

Oh.

Oh no.

Did Jungkook complain about you? Is Yoongi about to give you some weird roommate intervention? Does he know about the… arrangement you and Jungkook have? 

God, that would be mortifying.

“What about him?” you ask, aiming for casual but landing somewhere closer to defensive.

Yoongi presses his lips together like he’s trying to decide if speaking is worth the effort. Spoiler: it usually isn’t.

Then—quiet, low: 

“Back at the karaoke place… you met Mia, right?”

You freeze mid-swipe, the brush hovering just above your toenail. There’s a split second where your brain tries to play dumb. Pretend you didn’t. Pretend you forgot. But your body answers before your mouth does—shoulders tensing, breath pulling tight behind your ribs.

“Yeah,” you say slowly. “I remember.”

And you do. Perfectly. Chanel and Louboutins and weaponized perfume. Voice like saccharine venom and teeth too white to be trustworthy. 

You remember the grip on your arm. The way Jungkook looked—vacant, off, like someone unplugged him at the base of the spine.

Yoongi nods once, eyes fixed on his coffee like it might offer divine clarity.

“I need to know what happened.” 

His voice isn’t demanding, not exactly. Just… steady. Firm in a way you’ve never heard from him before. 

“What did she say to him?”

You shift on the couch, pulling your knees up to make room for Griffin, who hops beside you with zero regard for the wet polish on your toes. 

You don’t answer right away. Not because you’re trying to avoid it—it’s just that you’re not sure how to answer.

Yoongi doesn’t push. Just waits.

You glance toward the kitchen, then back at him. 

“I didn’t hear everything,” you start. “She was already talking to him when I found them. I didn’t even know who she was at first, just thought—some random girl, y’know?”

He nods once. Still waiting.

“She was dressed like she had three bodyguards waiting outside,” you add, because you can’t help yourself. “Total Upper East Side vibes. Like she was slumming it for the night.”

That earns a dry little huff from Yoongi. Almost a laugh. Almost.

Your fingers twitch against your thigh. 

“She knew it was his birthday,” you say, softer now. “Said it all sweet but—like. Fake sweet, you know? Like she was performing nice but wanted him to feel like shit for not inviting her.”

Yoongi’s jaw ticks as he listens. He’s still holding the coffee mug, but you can tell he’s not really drinking anymore. Just holding it like a prop.

“She said…” Your voice trails off. You swallow. “She said, ‘Try not to have too much fun without me.’ And something about his dad. I didn’t catch all of it. But her tone—it was like… she wanted to rattle him.”

Now Yoongi finally looks at you. Not full on, not probing, but enough to catch your face in his periphery. 

“She mentioned his dad?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “Just—like, she knew it’d hit a nerve. She said something about ‘not replacing her’ or whatever. I don’t know the full context, but... whatever it was, it fucked with him. He looked—”

You pause. 

The image flashes in your head: Jungkook standing in the hallway, motionless. His face locked down, shoulders tight. Like something inside him had short-circuited.

“He looked small,” you say quietly. “Scared. Not like himself.”

Yoongi takes that in. Doesn’t react right away. He just huffs out a breath through his nose and leans back against the edge of the kitchen counter.

Another pause.

Then: “She’s good at that.”

He says it flatly. No inflection. No explanation.

You tilt your head. “You know her?”

“Not much. But I know exactly what he looked like after her.”

You’re quiet, sensing the line. The invisible perimeter Yoongi keeps between what’s his to share and what isn’t.

“I’m not asking for his secrets,” you say, meaning it.

“Good,” he replies instantly. “Because they’re not mine to give.”

That makes you like him more. Irritatingly so.

You don’t push. But your gaze stays on him, curious.

Yoongi shrugs, finally setting his mug down on the counter. “I’ve only known him for a year and a half, so I wasn’t around back then. Not for most of it. But she left damage.”

You stay quiet.

“She knows his pressure points. Knows when to act like she’s joking and when to twist the knife.” He rubs the back of his neck like he hates even saying this out loud. “Jungkook’s got a... hard time with boundaries. Especially when it comes to people he used to love.”

Used to. Interesting phrasing.

Your lips part slightly, but Yoongi’s already waving a hand like he regrets going this far. “Anyway. Not my drama. Just wanted to know what she said. He didn’t tell us much.”

“Us?”

Yoongi shrugs again, folding his arms. “Me, Taehyung, Hobi. The ones that showed up when she blew everything up.”

You blink. “Blew everything up?”

He gives you a look. Not mean. Not angry. Just—measured. Like he’s deciding how much to trust you.

“I said too much already,” he mutters. “But yeah. That hallway thing? That wasn’t nothing. I just needed to hear it from someone who saw it up close.”

You nod slowly. “Makes sense.”

Silence again. Not uncomfortable exactly. But heavy.

Yoongi runs a hand through his hair and glances down at Griffin, who’s now making biscuits into a throw pillow like he pays rent. 

“He didn’t tell you anything, huh?”

“No.” The word comes out before you can stop it. Then, quieter: “He just said he needed air.”

Yoongi exhales. “Figures.”

You want to ask more. About Mia. About Jungkook. About what the hell happened that’s got Yoongi this protective over someone he’s known for less than two years. But something in his expression makes you hold your tongue.

So you just nod, brushing your fingers lightly over Griffin’s back.

After a beat, you say, “Thanks for telling me. Even if it was just a little.”

Yoongi lifts his coffee mug in a half-toast. “Don’t read into it. You were there. I needed intel. That’s all.”

You smirk. “Sure.”

But you both know that’s not all.

Not even close.

"Wait," you call out just as Yoongi's about to disappear completely. 

You're not sure why you feel compelled to say this—it's not like you owe Tessa anything—but after everything you've just learned about Mia, it feels important somehow.

Yoongi pauses, hand on his doorknob, eyebrows raised in silent question.

"That girl at the birthday party," you say, the words tumbling out before you can overthink them. "Tessa? I think she genuinely likes him. Like, in a normal way."

You don't know why you're telling him this. 

Maybe because after hearing about Mia's toxicity, the idea of someone simple and sweet being interested in Jungkook feels like information worth sharing. 

Yoongi tilts his head slightly. "The ginger one? Sat next to him?"

"Yeah," you nod, surprised he noticed. "She asked for my advice, actually. About him. She wants to get coffee with me to talk about it."

"Huh." Yoongi leans against his doorframe, considering this. "She seemed... nice."

The way he says ‘nice’ makes it sound like he's describing an alien species he's only read about in textbooks.

"She is nice," you confirm. "Like, genuinely nice. Soft. Girly.  Probably doesn't have any emotional baggage or toxic exes lurking around corners."

You're babbling now, but you can't seem to stop. 

Because you feel guilty. 

Because you told this nice beautiful girl to go for an emotionally stunted dude who apparently has way too much baggage. 

Because maybe Jungkook is not even ready for any of this.

"I told her to go for it. With Jungkook, I mean. Before I knew about... all this Mia stuff."

Yoongi's expression shifts subtly—a slight narrowing of the eyes. "You're playing matchmaker now?"

There's no judgment in his voice, just curiosity, but you feel defensive anyway.

"Not matchmaking," you clarify. "Just... I don't know. Being supportive? She asked, I answered. It's not a big deal."

"Right," Yoongi says, in a tone that suggests he thinks it might actually be a big deal. "And how does Jungkook feel about Tessa?"

You shrug, suddenly realizing you have no idea. "I don't know. They're in some classes together I think. He hasn't mentioned her."

"Jungkook doesn't mention a lot of things," Yoongi points out.

"True." You fiddle with the cap of your nail polish, avoiding his gaze. "I just thought... she’s nice. And so pretty. I just thought… maybe it could do him some good—before I even knew about this, I mean.”

Yoongi makes a noncommittal sound. "Maybe."

"You don't think so?"

He shrugs. "It's not about what I think. It's about whether Jungkook's ready for someone new. Especially someone... nice."

The way he says it makes you wonder if ‘nice’ is a liability in Jungkook's world. 

If after someone like Mia, ‘nice’ feels too foreign, too simple.

"Well, I already told her to go for it," you say, feeling suddenly uncertain. "Should I... un-tell her?"

Yoongi actually smiles at that—a small, fleeting thing, but definitely a smile. "No. Let it play out. Who knows? Maybe you're right. Maybe nice is exactly what he needs."

He doesn't sound convinced, but he doesn't sound dismissive either.

"Okay," you say, relieved. "I just... wanted you to know. Since we're apparently on Team Jungkook now."

Yoongi snorts. "I've always been on Team Jungkook. You're the new recruit."

"I didn't exactly volunteer," you point out.

"And yet here you are," he says, "worrying about his love life."

You open your mouth to protest, then close it again. 

He's not wrong.

"Anyway," Yoongi continues, "thanks for telling me about Tessa. And about what happened with Mia."

You nod, feeling like you've passed some kind of test you didn't know you were taking.

Yoongi gives you one last unreadable look before finally retreating into his room, the door clicking shut behind him.

You sit there for a moment, processing the entire bizarre conversation. 

In the span of fifteen minutes, you've gone from painting your toenails in peaceful solitude to being drafted into some kind of Protect Jungkook squad with Yoongi, of all people.

Life in Apartment 6B just keeps getting weirder.

Thirty-seven minutes later, you're sprawled on your bed, hair still damp from the shower, staring at Tessa's unanswered text like it's a bomb you need to defuse.

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚑𝚎𝚢! 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚎𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚖𝚢 𝚝𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚢𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚍𝚊𝚢? 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚋 𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎? 🙂

You’re second-guessing everything after that conversation with Yoongi. 

Should you really be encouraging Tessa to pursue Jungkook when you know he's still dealing with Mia-shaped emotional shrapnel? Is it fair to either of them?

But then again, who are you to play gatekeeper to Jungkook's love life? Maybe Tessa is exactly what he needs—someone sweet and uncomplicated. Someone who doesn't have the baggage of a toxic ex or whatever the hell happened with his father.

You groan and flop back against your pillows. 

Why do you even care? 

It's not like you and Jungkook are anything to each other. You're just roommates who occasionally fuck. 

You’re barely even… friends.

The word acquires a weird shape in your mind.

You pick up your phone again, determined to respond to Tessa without overthinking it.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚑𝚎𝚢𝚊! 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚙𝚕𝚢. 𝚌𝚊𝚗’𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚝 2 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎. 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚠𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝?

You hit send before you can change your mind. 

It's just coffee. It's not like you're arranging a marriage.

Truth is, next week’s already packed—Yeji’s gallery prep, that shift you picked up for someone who ‘owes you one’ but never actually pays up, and whatever Jungkook’s been muttering about needing help with but refusing to ask. 

It’s easier to just skip ahead. Two weeks. Feels safer. Less chance of Tessa becoming something to manage short-term.

Her response comes almost immediately.

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚊𝚑𝚑𝚑 𝚢𝚊𝚢𝚢𝚢 🥰! 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎’𝚜 𝚊 𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚂𝚢𝚛𝚞𝚙 𝚘𝚗 𝙴. 𝟷𝚜𝚝 𝚂𝚝. 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚏𝚊𝚛, 𝚠𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞!

You know Syrup—it's one of those Instagram-bait cafés with latte art and avocado toast that costs more than your hourly wage. Not exactly your usual haunt, but it's not too far from campus.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚜𝚢𝚛𝚞𝚙 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔𝚜! 𝚒’𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚝 2 💕

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚐𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝! 𝚒’𝚖 𝚜𝚘𝚘𝚘 𝚎𝚡𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚌𝚑 𝚞𝚙! 

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜!!!

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚:𝚒 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚊𝚍𝚟𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠? 🤗

You stare at the message, a knot forming in your stomach. 

Because you don't ‘get’ Jungkook. Not really. 

You didn't know about his dad, or the full extent of the Mia situation, or why he disappeared to the rooftop that night. 

You know he likes John Mayer and makes good coffee and his favorite position is cowgirl.

You know he smells like rain and his hands are always warm and he secretly carries cat treats around.

But those are just details, not understanding.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚒 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚒 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚒 ’𝚐𝚎𝚝’ 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚠𝚎 𝚛 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚒𝚏 𝚒 𝚌𝚊𝚗 :) 

That feels safer. 

Better to lower her expectations now than have her think you're some Jungkook whisperer with all the answers.

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚊𝚑, 𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢! 

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚒 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠? 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚢, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗'𝚝 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕, 𝚒 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚕!!

Intimidated by Jungkook? 

The idea is almost laughable. 

How could you be intimidated by someone who once spent twenty minutes trying to coax Griffin out from under the couch with a piece of string cheese?

But then you remember how other people see him—the sharp jawline, the tattoos, the way he carries himself like he’s not actually dumb as hell. 

You can see how someone like Tessa might find him intimidating.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚙𝚏𝚏𝚏𝚏𝚏

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚊����𝚑𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚏𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚜 𝚌𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕 𝚍𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚡, 𝚜𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚖

You hesitate, then add:

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎𝚜, 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚜𝚘 𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠

It feels important to add that caveat, even if you're not sure why. 

Maybe because of what Yoongi told you. 

Maybe because you've seen glimpses of that complication yourself.

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚑𝚊𝚑𝚊𝚑𝚊 𝚒 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠!!

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜, 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗, 𝚋𝚞𝚛 𝚒 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝? 

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎, 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚐𝚞𝚢

You frown at the screen. There's something about her response that doesn't sit right with you. Like she's romanticizing the very things that make Jungkook difficult—the walls he puts up, the emotional distance, the complications Yoongi hinted at.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝… 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚐𝚘 𝚒𝚗 𝚎𝚡𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊 𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚌𝚘𝚖 𝚢𝚔? 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚊 𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚊𝚗 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚘𝚕

You hit send, then immediately regret your tone. That came off way harsher than you meant it to. You're about to type a follow-up when Tessa's reply appears.

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚘𝚑 𝚐𝚘𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚛𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 🙈 𝚒'𝚖 𝚋𝚎𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚘 𝚌𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚛𝚗

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚒 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚒'𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚞𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝... 𝚠𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚔 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗-𝚠𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚖𝚜? 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚕𝚍𝚋𝚘𝚢 😣

Oh. That's actually... kind of sweet. Seems like Jungkook really does have a thing for Korean cinema.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚗𝚘 𝚗𝚘 𝚒 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚒𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝! 𝚒 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎... 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚙𝚎𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚢𝚔?

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚖. 𝚒 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚘𝚘!

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚒'𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚎𝚍 𝚠/ 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚖 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚒 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎! 𝚖𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚔

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚎𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚛𝚘𝚙 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚝𝚎𝚡𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚕 🙈

Your heart softens a little. There's something vulnerable about the way she just shared that personal detail, then immediately apologized for it.

It reminds you of how you sometimes overshare when you're nervous, then backpedal frantically.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚗𝚘 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚒𝚣𝚎! 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚍𝚊𝚍. 𝚒'𝚖 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚛𝚢 𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝚝𝚑𝚘 :(

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 💕 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚘. 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚒'𝚖 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚖! 

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚒 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚖𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚒 𝚍𝚘? 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚞𝚜𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚟𝚒𝚎𝚜 😔

That actually makes a lot of sense. You can see why she'd be drawn to Jungkook if they share this interest. 

And you know from experience how rare it is to find someone who genuinely cares about the things you're passionate about.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚌𝚘𝚘𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚞𝚢𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚖𝚘𝚗! 

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚒 𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐. 𝚜𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 🙄

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝?? 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚔𝚊𝚛-𝚠𝚊𝚒 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚕

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚔𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚒 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚕 𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖? 

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎 🥺

You can't help but smile a little. She’s clearly excited she is to have found someone who shares her interests. You remember feeling that way with Jason today, when he actually engaged with your thoughts on literature instead of just nodding along.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎! 

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚋𝚝𝚠 𝚒 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚛. 𝚒 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚑𝚞𝚛𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚛𝚗

Tessa takes a moment to reply, the ellipses blinking thoughtfully.

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚘𝚑 :( 𝚒 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚒𝚝

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚘 💕

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚎!! 𝚒'𝚖 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚑𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚊𝚑𝚊𝚑𝚊 𝚒 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚋𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛? 𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚏𝚏?

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒 𝚝𝚘𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚜 𝚞𝚙!! 𝚒'𝚕𝚕 𝚋𝚎 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕 🤞

Okay, that feels reasonable. She's acknowledging your concern without getting defensive, and clarifying her own expectations. 

Maybe she's more level-headed than you initially gave her credit for.

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚘𝚔𝚊𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍!! 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 <3

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚒'𝚖 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚜𝚘 𝚒'𝚖 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚜 𝚘𝚞𝚝 😴

𝐘𝐨𝐮: 𝚌 𝚞 𝚝𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚝 𝚜𝚢𝚛𝚞𝚙! :)

Time to bow out before you accidentally become her relationship coach.

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚜𝚕𝚎𝚎𝚙 𝚠𝚎𝚕𝚕!! 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚜 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐!! 🥺✨

𝐓𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚: 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊ｙ!! 💖

You put your phone down, feeling a sense of closure on that front, at least for tonight. 

Tessa seems sweet, if a little naive about the potential complications involved with Jungkook. 

But she's also genuinely interested in him for reasons that make sense, and she seems aware enough to proceed with caution.

You roll over, pulling the covers tighter. 

It's weird, offering dating advice about your roommate who you're also sleeping with to a girl you barely know. 

Weirder still that you actually kind of... like her? And want things to work out okay for her?

Maybe you're growing up. Or maybe you're just tired.

Either way, Tuesday is going to be interesting.

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[witherby]

I need anything and everything of jason being Mouses favourite. (The Littlest Wayne AU)

They get a snack/ meal - Jay Jay has to take a bite first before they eat

They have a new toy- Jay Jay has to see and play

I’ll take anything you can think of.

I am obsessed. The AU is amazing

-🤍💜

Say less! I love Jason Todd and so does Flittermouse! By the way the word count is 3100+ lol oops

The Littlest Wayne: Fist Bumps

Masterlist is Here!

"This is stupid."

"Shut up, you're just mad you won't get picked."

Tim kicks Damian in the shin, who retaliates by kicking him back much, much harder in the ankle. Tim cries out, about to start a fight, but one stern look from Alfred settles them both down. They continue to sit beside each other without fuss, and soon everyone is all neatly lined in a row while Hal uses his ring to keep you safely suspended in a bubble, playing with a little rattle.

"Alright," Dick says excitedly, "we're going over the rules one more time! No jingling any shiny objects for Flitty to chase after, no getting out of line to get closer to them, and Bruce, no bare skin! We're gonna have Hal set them down and see who they come to first."

"This isn't gonna go the way you think it's gonna go," Bruce says, endlessly amused. "Please, none of you get your feelings hurt."

"Nobody's gonna start cryin', relax," Jason says, lounging on the floor between Damian and Hal. "Kay, we ready?"

A chorus of agreement follows, and Hal gently lowers you to the floor. They all immediately call your name, or variations of your nickname, waving their hands and patting their laps to get you to come to them. Your eyes widen, startled by the sudden rush of noise, and turn your head to assess everyone across the room.

You lock on to the man you want, the binky in your mouth bopping up and down excitedly, and you start speedily crawling to Jason.

"I KNOW that's fuckin' right!" He yells, scooping you into his arms and gently tossing you in the air a couple inches, then peppering your face with kisses. "I'm the favorite you little freaks. Kiss my ass."

"Okay, whatever, we knew that already," Dick says, "now it's time to see who the second favorite is. Put them down and go away so we can play again."

"Be nice to your brother," Bruce says. Dick flicks Bruce in the ear and he scowls. "Ow. Be nice to me."

"Fine. Gotta know who my competition is for the number one spot in Mousey's heart, even if I'm winning by a landslide." Jason carries you across the room and sets you back down. "You stay for a sec, kay? Pound it." He picks up your chubby arm and makes you give him a fist bump, then walks away from you.

Before they can even start a second round of the game, you're shuffling after him again. Christ, it's adorable.

"It's because they can still see you, Todd," Damian says, scooping you up to put back in starting position. "Duck behind the couch."

Jason rolls his eyes but complies, bending down until he's out of sight. When the rest of the family calls for you again, you shuffle forward like you're going to crawl to Hal, but you veer past him and around to the back of the couch to get to Jason again.

"Oh my god, they've developed object permanence already," Tim says. Jason's triumphant laughter fills the room as he lifts you up to give you more kisses. His endless delight and your happy squealing softens the blow to everyone else's egos.

"This game sucks anyway," Dick mumbles, crossing his arms in defeat. "What idiot even came up with it in the first place..."

--

"You ask."

"Uh, no? You ask? I don't care."

"Yeah but he tolerates your questions. I don't wanna get my jaw blown off."

"Then don't ask, dumbass. It's so easy."

Jason clears his throat, causing the two goons to stiffen up and turn to face him. One of them looks upset that he was caught unaware, and the other looks one wrong move away from pissing himself.

"Hi, boss," they both greet.

"Whatcha talkin' about?" Jason asks, taking a half-step closer. "Cause last I checked, I sent you both over here to do quality control on our newest drug shipment. And I'm not seeing a lot of that gettin' done."

He turns to the more frightened man. If he didn't have his helmet on, he would've sneered at him.

"So what's the hold up? Need me to sew some mouths shut? Hmm? Want me t'cut out your fuckin' tongue? That'll motivate you real fast, I bet."

"We'll get right on it, boss," the other, clearly smarter, henchman states. "We were just. Uh. Wondering why there's... why there's a baby strapped to your chest."

Jason looks down at you. You stare right back at him, making a soft cooing noise around your Red Hood-themed binky, and reach up for his mask. He gently takes your hand instead, feeling your tiny fingers curl around the leather of his gloved pointer. He's smiling sweetly at you, despite no one being able to see it.

"This is M," he says by way of an answer. "Won't be an everyday occurrence — couldn't find another babysitter so I assured the dad I'd keep 'em safe for the night."

He doesn't mention that your dad is also his dad, and that when Jason tried to leave to do his vigilante work, you screamed the house down and would only calm down in his arms, therefore he had no choice. So here you are, strapped to his chest in a onesie padded with kevlar and vital-tracking tech, while your favorite brother carries your diapers and formula around in the same duffel he stashes his guns.

And because you're his favorite, too, he secretly hopes you throw more fits so he gets to hoard you all to himself again. Taking a few minutes to tickle your tummy or gently rock you in his arms stops him from losing his patience and blowing out the brains of several subordinates tonight — which his men clearly catch onto, because they all start telling him how nice it is to see such a cute and perfect and pleasant, life-saving baby hanging around.

Fuck yeah it's nice. S'cause you're the coolest baby ever. Jason gently makes you fist bump him.

--

"AHHH!"

Jason is out of his chair and bolting across the Manor before his brain fully registers your screaming through the baby monitor. There's surprised exclamations and footfalls not far from him as his thunderous steps stir up a commotion, but he doesn't care about that.

There are very few times in his life when he's moved this fast. Large, expansive rooms fly by him in a blur of color. He takes the stairs six at a time. If a door he needs to get through is closed, he's breaking it down with a well-placed hit with his shoulder and moving on.

When he gets to your room, he stops to yank the door open because he doesn't know if you're near it, and darts inside with a sharp shout of your name.

"What's wrong!?" He pants, zeroing in on you immediately. You've rushed into your wardrobe and climbed inside it, red-faced and crying as a crow flaps haphazardly around the bedroom. The shattered glass on the floor gives him the missing context, and he snatches the bird out of the air with more force than necessary while the adrenaline spike is still scrambling his nervous system.

Bruce is the second person to rush into your room just moments after, crouching by your hiding spot with furrowed brows and a soft, slightly winded voice.

"Are you hurt?" He asks. You whimper but shake your head, fat tears rolling down your little cheeks, and lift your hands. Bruce picks you up without hesitation and stands up.

"Jaylad?" He says, still in that gentle tone. "You alright?"

Jason doesn't answer. He's not alright, not really. The rage he'd built up thinking someone was in here hurting you is still burning through his veins, and with no outlet for it, he's struggling a bit.

Bruce doesn't take offense to his lack of response. He just offers you a small, reassuring smile and bounces you a bit in his arms.

"Let's go find Grandpa and snuggle up with some hot chocolate," he murmurs. "Jay-Jay will hang back and make sure your bedroom is safe for you."

"No!" You sob, leaning around your father's broad shoulders to reach for Jason. "Want Jay-Jay!"

"You can spend time with him in a little while, Mouse," Bruce says, starting to carry you out of the room. Your protests get louder and more frantic, pushing against him to no avail.

"Want Jay!" You repeat, sobbing openly. "Jay-Jay! Want, p'ease!! Jay-Jay!"

"Bruce," Jason utters through grit teeth. His father stops, only a few steps down the hallway, and turns back to him. "It's fine. I'll take 'em, you clean up the mess."

"...are you sure?" Bruce frowns, visibly cautious. He looks down at the bird still flapping helplessly as Jason holds it by the neck, firmer than strictly necessary.

Jason takes a step towards the broken window and tosses the crow out. After a second of frantic flapping, it straightens itself out and flies away with panicked sqawking.

He turns to you and holds out his arms. They're only trembling a little bit, but the edges of his vision are still tinged with green. Bruce hesitates to pass you over.

"I've got it," Jason murmurs, "I'm calm enough. Gimme my fuckin' sibling before you piss me off worse, B."

Bruce nods slowly. He brings you back into the room and hands you off to Jason. Your arms circle his neck and cling on tight, and you bury your face in his chest as you cry. It breaks his heart that you had such a bad scare. He can see the half-completed Lego build you were playing with on the floor in front of the window and hopes Bruce can get all the glass shards out between the bricks and carpet.

Jason carries you out of your bedroom and down the corridor to his. He leaves his door cracked open and flicks on lights as he goes, then brings you to the en-suite bathroom.

"Okay, Mousey," he mumbles, trying to set you on the sink's vanity. You clutch him tighter and whimper, and it drives a spear right through his chest. "Kid, I'm not goin' nowhere. Jay-Jay's right here, I just wanna make sure there's no glass on you."

A little more prodding and the compromise of you holding one of his hands gets you to relent. You sit miserably on the counter as your sobs slowly die down, and Jason tediously checks your hair and clothes for any bits of glass that may have landed on you when the crow crashed into the window. The slow, repetitive motions help quiet the last of his anger until he's just tired and concerned for you. He finds a couple tiny pieces, but your skin is unblemished and when he asks if you're hurt, you shake your head, which then calms him entirely.

"Alright, great job," he murmurs. "Come here, we'll go bother Alfie t'give us an icecream sammy before dinner and then cuddle in the main living room. Good plan?"

You sniffle, wiping the last of your tears away. Your cheeks are flushed and puffy. "Yeah, good pwan..."

Jason kisses the top of your head and offers you his fist. You gently bump yours against his, then lift your arms again to be picked back up. He obliges, refusing to put you back down for the rest of the day. When it's time for bed, you don't wanna go back into your room, so he spends the evening reading his current novel with a dim book light while you snooze away on his chest.

--

He's livid. Jason's got a hole in his leg and he can't run away from the rival gang leader pointing a gun at his head, and he's fucking livid.

"My first death was way cooler," he mutters. "Got blown up and everything."

"What the fuck are you saying?" The other man scowls. "I never could understand you through that thick-ass helmet."

"I'm saying, if you're gonna go down as the guy that killed the Red Hood, at least make the execution something fuckin' noteworthy," Jason rants, the pain making him bitchier than usual. He waves his hands for emphasis, pointing at the gunman much like a mother scolding her child. "Ohh I shot him and watched his brain splatter everywhere! So has every single marksman ever. I'm worth more than a bullet in an alleyway. The fuck do I look like, Bruce Wayne's folks?"

"Whoa, man," the shooter says, lifting his free hand to scratch the back of his head. "Let me get this straight. You're not mad I'm gonna kill you. You're that mad I'm not gonna kill you...in a cooler way?"

"Excellent listening ears, bucko! Gold star!" Jason coos, clapping. "Immolation, decapitation, tossin' me in an acid pit — fuck me, I'll take a stab wound over a bullet! D'you know how skilled you gotta be to get close enough to stab Red Hood to death!? If not for me, do somethin' that'll raise your own paltry street cred, shit. You're so fucking boring."

The man doesn't get another chance to weigh his options. The darkness of the alleyway pounces on him, sucking him into the void while he shrieks like an animal. Jason slumps against the wall and watches the shapeless darkness warp and twist, the gun abandoned on the ground in the gunman's initial panic. He feels his heart rate slow when you step out after a minute, wearing a thick jacket over your pajamas and a domino mask over your eyes as you hurry towards him. A flash of irritation makes him scowl as he realizes one of the others woke you up for this, when you aren't even a vigilante to begin with. The culprit's gonna get their ass beat as soon as he recovers enough to track them down.

"Okay," you stammer, kneeling next to him on the ground with a first aid kit. "Okay okay okay...Alf — umm, Agent A? I'm here, what do I do?"

"Remain calm, Flittermouse. All will be well," Alfred soothes you over the comms. Jason feels the adrenaline steadily exiting his body now that he's registered that he's safe. Now, it's a fight to stay conscious so you don't freak out even more than you're currently doing. He's so proud of you for coming out here despite the blatant fear.

Your hands shake as you pop the kit open and pull out the field tourniquet. Alfred instructs you on how to set it up, and Jason gently adjusts it when you wrap it a little too close to the bullet wound in his thigh. He grits his teeth as you tighten it, refusing to make a peep, and gives you a quick thumbs up when you tie it off.

"Okay, I stopped the bleeding. Do I bring him home, now?" You ask.

"As long as he has no other injuries, the medical bay is ready for you to transport him back to the cave."

"M'good, Mousey," Jason says, lifting his fist. "Sorry you had to come rescue your cool big bro. S'not your job."

"I was the one who could get here the fastest," you reply. After a moment's hesitation, you bump his fist with your own. "You're gonna be okay."

"M'gonna be okay," he echoes, knowing you need that confirmation. "Saved my life, kid. I'll do all your chores for the next week."

That gets a wet laugh out of you. You hug Jason tight and the shadows of the alley pool underneath your bodies. Jason closes his eyes and hugs you back, a steady anchor in the free-falling sensation entering your darkness gives him.

"My heroics are only worth a week of chores?"

"S'better than the rest get," he says. "They get one chore. Not even a whole day, just one chore."

You bury your face in his shoulder as the void swallows you and him up.

"You're my favorite, too, Jay-Jay," you mumble. Jason smiles as he loses the battle for consciousness.

--

"Good afternoon; welcome to Truce Juice. Would you like a moment with a menu or are you ready to order?"

Jason leans his hip against the counter and takes a menu off the small, laminated stack you've got sitting there, glancing over the options. Behind the helmet, he smiles as he remembers all the late nights you pulled him and your other brothers into the kitchen to taste test these drinks and snacks, desperate to make things that would appeal to many people. He remembers how proud you were to graduate from your culinary courses and the victory cry you let out when you found insurance willing to cover the building.

You smile warmly at him, waiting patiently for him to choose something off the menu for the first time in your brand new business.

"Black coffee," he says, voice warped by the modulator in the helmet, "two sugars."

"What size?" You ask, tapping it into the screen in front of you.

"Large. And a turkey panini, with avocado and pesto."

"Toasted?"

"What other fuckin' way would anybody get a panini?" He muses aloud. To strangers, he would sound angry, but you can tell he's genuinely asking. You just shrug and keep the soft smile on your face.

"You'd be surprised. Your total's on the screen; will that be cash or card?"

Jason reaches a gloved hand down. It glides past the pistol strapped to his thigh, eliciting nervous gasps from bystanders in the cafe, and into the pocket underneath, drawing out a plain, tri-fold wallet. He pulls out two hundred-dollar bills and huffs at you to keep the change, then saunters over to the pick-up counter to wait.

He crosses his arms and watches you scuttle around behind the counter, genuinely happy to make food and drinks for anybody that comes in. So far, you're uninjured and you've been able to stop any rising conflicts in seconds, which he's endlessly thankful for.

When his order is ready, you hand it to him with another bright smile.

"Alright, mister Hood, here you go. Have a great day!"

Jason nods, about to turn away, when he sees you hold your fist out in his periphery.

He grins, heart fit to burst, and bumps it back.

[tchtokyo]

HEADCANON

Roy likes to call Jason pet names, but like old fashioned pet names (he gives me the vibe of being an old soul) but I'm not saying sweetheart or love, I'm saying like angel, babydoll, dear and darling, lovely and stuff like that and jason doesn't know what to do with it besides blush and hide somewhere.

(Clark also does it, but we all know he does bc he was raised in a farm, and Bruce loves it and answers in kind)

And roy does it in public, in private, in whatever setting he is. Besides the normal jaybird, these are common within roy vocabulary that is meant for jason.

*in a meeting with the other bats, in the bat cave*

Jason: me and roy can handle it, no need to add more people we could be seen.

Roy: you sure, angel? I mean it looks like there's gonna be alot of them.

The bats: *some looking shocked others holding back laughter*

Jason: *blushing under the helmet and thanking that he has it on* y-yes, we can.

Roy: you the boss, babydoll.

Jason: OH MY GOD CAN YOU STOP?!?!?

Dick, Tim, Steph and duke: *laughing like crazy*

Bruce: *murmuring something about queen children*

Cass: *patting jason shoulder for support*

Damian: *looking uncomfortable*

Roy: *confused* stop what? I don't get it.

Jason: t-that ya know what I'm talking about.

Roy: I really don't, darling, you have to tell me.

Jason: *stands and walks up the stairs to the manor*

Roy: Jason?! Jason?!

Dick: *turns to roy with tears in his eyes* I think you broke him, harper.

Roy: i-

Tim: I think the pet names were too much.

Roy: but I call him that all the time!!

Steph: okay ew, don't talk about your sex live please, but tim is right maybe it's bc we all witness it.

Roy: ?????????

Duke: he's never gonna live it down between all of us.

Roy: omg Jason!? I'm sorry!! Wait wait *runs up the stairs*

Cass: he's going to sleep on the couch

Dick, Tim, Duke, steph: 100%

Damian: father, can I make a quick call before we leave?

Bruce: ??? Sure, is everything alright?

Damian: *pulling up jon contact* nothing wrong.

Damian: please do not call me your endearments while we are with my family.

Jon: *who was asleep* what!?!

Damian: I don't want to be made fun of just because you love me too much to be contained.

Jon: sure!?! Whatever you say, honey

Damian: *slightly blushing because he too can't get used to it* t-thank you, habibi

Jon: love you

Damian: I love you too *hangs up and walks back with a slight spring in his step

[killishin]

domestic hcs with jason

oookay so domestic jason? cus why not.

heavily inspired by the prompts from this post by @novelbear (i love her prompts so much)

dividers by @cafekitsune

in the beginning of your relationship, both of you were kinda awkward, yet less so because it took both of you quite sometime to get over the cautiousness and trust issues, and during that time the awkwardness had shredded to an extent.

it was almost smooth sailing after becoming official, sure there were still a lot of areas that were left unexplored, going wrong somewhere, having long talks or none, because sometimes neither of you needed words. you just knew what the other wanted.

and so slowly both of you eased into each other's lives, like puzzle pieces truly molded and shaped for each other, not a mere gap left. at this point nothing weirded either of you out. best friends along with lovers.

as lovely and cosy this domesticity was, it had its fair share of little bickerings.

"no. no no no. no—" jason took hold of your shoulder with one of his hand while the other easily pulled the cart away, and guided you in the opposite direction from the aisle of biscuits.

you let out a small 'tut' of disappointment before looking up at him with semi puppy eyes, since there was a hint of warning in them.

he lets out a huff of disbelief before giving you a pointed look, "no."

"oh come on what's the issue here?" you ask as if you don't know and his eyes simply become more pointed, "really? really sweetheart?"

you shrug as you take on a sort of diplomatic demeanor, as if negotiating, "trying new things isn't that bad."

"it is when you choose those horrendous new oreo flavours."

"some turn out good!"

"some, sweetheart. most don't, and then you push it away like some cat and i gotta eat it all."

"i promise I'll eat it full this time." you swear with such sincerity that he almost falls for it, almost. his lips quirk up into a smirk as he pinches your jaw in between his thumb and index finger, squishing your cheeks a bit.

"not falling for that again."

"jay–"

"its the normal flavour or nothing."

"babe-"

"normal or nothing."

"fine!" you hiss in irritation and he has the audacity to smile triumphantly, leaning to brush a kiss on your forehead, "atta girl."

well jokes on him, cus the moment you approach the aisle, you put the normal one in and then your eyes inevitably pause at that new flavour, gaze fixated on it.

"sweetheart no—"

you push the packet in the cart, silence engulfing you both as you both stare at the packet in the cart.

"i am not finishing that."

you share a lot in common with him, reading is one of them. when jason is off to do his nightly duties you read to occupy your time, as that is one of the things that give you peace, other than your boyfriend. now it is not always that jason gets a night off. so when he does, you'd rather you spend it cuddled by his side, having the best sleep, since having been tired by your prior activities.

and since he has a night off, he really wants to catch up on his reading. so he does, perched on the bed with a book in hand while you were cuddled beside him with your arm thrown over his lap and head beside his thigh, fast asleep. sleep is just much, much better with him, but you cannot, for the love of god, sleep with any sort of noise. light sleeper, unfortunately.

you let out a small sleepy groan, nudging your face in his thigh, tapping on his arm. "can you stop that?"

he raises a brow, brushing your hair away from your forehead, an amused smile on his face. "stop what?"

you huffed before groggily opening your eyes and propping yourself up on your elbows, "you know what? no more reading before bed. you keep waking me up with your dramatic gasps every time you turn the page."

he lets out a surprised chuckle, ruffling your hair, irking you more, "well, i'm sorry that i engage and connect deeply with literature!"

"well gasp quieter!"

"its not a gasp then!"

you give him a deadpan stare while he just gives you a pointed look with a smug smirk. not to worry he acquiesced later on, getting under the covers with you while partially draping himself on you like a weighted blanket.

".... you gasp too while reading— wha– ow! alright!"

mornings are mostly quiet between you two, neither being a morning person so naturally you're both grumpy in the morning, you more than him specifically.

you're brushing your teeth in front of the sink with a dazed look in your eyes when he enters the bathroom behind you, yawning and scratching at his abs. he nudges you gently, breaking you out of your daze as if he knew you had dissociated for a while.

as you spit and wash your mouth, your eyes hone in on his brush, particularly on the amount of toothpaste he took. and maybe normally you wouldn't have cared, it isn't even an issue.

you quickly splash your face with water before leaning your arms against the sink and staring at him through the mirror, not even drying off your face yet. "thats a lot."

he pauses as his brows furrow, ever so cutely as he looks down at his brush and then back at you, "the toothpaste?"

"yeah?"

"thats the normal amount."

"sure. normal amount for a dinosaur."

he scoffs as he leans on one of his legs, resting his arm on his hip while holding the brush in his other hand , "so how much should i take? like you? that's not even enough for a mouse?"

"how do you know how much a mouse needs?!"

"well how do you know how much a dinosaur needs?!" he retorts back and you roll your eyes as you pat your face dry.

"im just saying you don't need that much— hey!" he snatches you away by hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you snug against him. he leans down with a smirk and your brows furrow in an almost glare.

"you wanna know how much i need hm? you wanna check?" he teases as he dips his head, pecking at your lips, coaxing you into a deeper kiss while you swat lightly at his lips.

"jason!" he pecks your lips, "you-" another one, "stink!"

jason is jason for you, for the world he reserves none of his smiles, none of those charms— none. its the red hood, and if in his civilian state, he is simply a big unit with a glare that can freeze sahara. his heart along with his scars are reserved for you, but his anger and disdain is all for the world to take.

the world and anyone who hogs your attention. now, jason is protective, and maybe even jealous— to an extent, but he would never cross a line that would make you feel uncomfortable. doesn't mean he appreciates people thinking they have a chance with you, or in this case, take his place beside you.

his glares aren't as subtle as he thinks, his arms crossed as he looks at the plushies on your bed. his glare drops into an exasperated groan when you bring out a new one.

"oh my god if you buy one more plush to occupy my spot on the bed i'm kicking you out to sleep on the couch." yet he sounds rather petulant than angry, and of course, hell would freeze and he still he wouldn't dare let you take the couch.

"but they're so nice and warm and fuzzy and cuddly, like you—"

"yes and apparently im not enough."

"you should at least try—"

"i have you."

you chuckle under your breath as you slip out the bed and pass him, pressing a chaste kiss on his downturned lips, "nice try but they're staying."

cleaning the dishes is something that if prolonged, it starts getting on your nerves. more so when you're nearing the end of the pile, and a new dish is added. a sharp sigh leaves your lips as your hands go lax and you turn to stare at jason, who's looking back at you like a deer caught in headlights.

"i was about to finish."

"... saw that."

you sigh again, more so in frustration as you continue scrubbing he laughs nervously, mumbling quiet apologies as he nears you, wrapping his arms around your waist. he rests his chin on your shoulder, pressing a kiss on it.

"tired? i can finish the rest, you should go and rest."

"no i–" you sigh as you hold the washed plate towards him and he takes it, immediately falling into a natural synergy. "you were way too tired from your patrol last night. and besides im done anyways."

"two dishes won't tire me out, you know."

"yeah i know but i think you work better in cuddling me so stay there."

"whatever you say."

again, jason is a protective man. he never tires from caring for you, be it outside or even in the confines of your shared home. he always has an arm around you, shielding you from potential creeps who unnecessarily push their bodies onto you, holding hands is an absolute necessary when walking, his eyes are always on you in any gathering— like a very doting bodyguard.

but thats when you're out, at your home somehow its even more intense and it shows in those small moments. he always keeps his hands on the sharp corners if you're near, maneuvers you around the walls if you're about to smack right into them, blows on the hot pipping food too much to the point it isn't even warm— he just loves you a lot.

"you going somewhere?" he asks as he straightens up on the couch, lowering the book in his hand and you could see just how desperately he wanted to go with you.

"yeah, i promised to meet my friends over dinner." you respond as you recollect your things after pulling on your shoes.

"need me to tag along?" he asked and you could just see the tail wagging, you sigh with a smile as you wave your hand dismissively, "no no. I'll come home early don't worry."

"im still coming to pick you up."

"i know." of course he will.

"that's a really thin jacket." he points out as his eyes narrow and you pause to look down, "is it?" your lips tug in amused grin.

"take an extra jacket. its cold out." he said as he relaxed back on the couch, picking up his book again.

"okay, mom."

"i heard that!"

its not that you don't have any serious arguments, you do and they are often but they don't last long. they can't, not with jason. he can't stay away from you for much longer, he silently agrees for some space after exchanging heated words but it rarely ever prolongs to more than an hour or so. guilt and worry gnaws at his heart while his arms ache for the solace in your skin.

because at the end of the day, you are what he comes home to. that after a grueling night of wear and tear, being and living as red hood, takes its toll on him. so he returns, he returns and hopes to everyday, fights to return everyday— all to see that sweet smile that comes onto your face as he comes back home.

you should be long asleep, he doesn't like it when you stay up for him. but he wouldn't deny how his heart always warms up at it, how it beats faster.

as he closes the window you straighten up on the couch, your head tilting a bit as you smile while beckoning him over.

"you okay big guy?"

somedays he banters, somedays he absolutely smothers you— but somedays, when it was particularly rough, he is quiet. so he took off his helmet, picked off his gloves and discarded his jacket just as his knees hit the floor beside you. you didn't question, you just knew he needed you and the silence.

a soft sigh left his lips as he rested his forehead on your lap, arms circling your waist and your hands immediately tangled in his hair, carding through them softly. your nails lightly scratched his scalp, then you knelt down and pressed a kiss on his head, illiciting another sigh.

"missed ya."

"missed you too."

he may one day be beyond saving, maybe his scars would just run too deep, yet even then he wouldn't dare submit to death— not when you still exist in his life.

NOTE: this was supposed to be a small drabble but i got carried away....

[izadi234]

Forget me not

-Warning: Contain yandere themes, neglected! gn!reader, mention of low self-esteem, the writer's first language isn't English. Yan! Batfamily x gn! reader

Chapters

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4(You're here)

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 4

The next day, Duke woke up early (and not just because he had training with Bruce and Dick), but the excitement of seeing you again after several days kept him awake all night.

Thank goodness it was the weekend which meant Duke could stay out a little later than usual, although to be honest he would have preferred to stay with you in your new "home" but two things stopped him: The first was that you still hadn't told him where you currently lived for the simple reason that you were still settling into your apartment and the second was because it wasn't in the plans he and Alfred had made.

Just a little longer and you'll be in your (cage) home again.

After his training with Bruce and Dick, Duke thanked them and quickly left to have breakfast and then get ready. Clearly, this attitude on the part of the young man didn't go unnoticed by his mentor or his older brother.

"Do you know what's wrong with him?" Dick asked Bruce

"No." The security guard shook his head. "Maybe he's going out to see someone. He looks excited."

"Maybe," Dick nodded.

At the dining table were the other family members, Jason and Damian. They both looked at Duke as if he had grown two heads taller just because he was devouring the food as if he hadn't eaten in 100 years.

"You know that the food isn't going to go away, right?" Jason chuckled.

"You should eat properly, Thomas," little Damian scolded.

"I'm sorry, guys!" he apologized as he stood up. "I have something to do and I'm in a bit of a hurry!"

He didn't allow the other vigilantes to ask who he was going to see because he had already left.

As he climbed the stairs, he almost ran into Tim, Cass, and Steph, who looked at him confused.

"Why the rush, Duke? The mansion is burning and we have to evacuate?" Steph joked

"Sorry guys! I'm going to see someone and I'm already late" he said before entering his room

"Oohh˜ Is it a secret girlfriend?" Steph asked the other two

"I don't think so. Duke never talks about girls" Tim said

"What if it's a boy?" Cass proposed

"I don't think so either. He would seem more nervous but he's more excited" she analyzed

Quickly Duke took a shower and changed his clothes. In a backpack he packed his laptop, chargers and wallet. You never know when he might use it and he could also ask you for help with some tasks he had some doubts about.

Once ready Duke went down and headed for the door when Bruce stopped him.

"Where are you going Duke?" the eldest Wayne asked curiously

Duke turned to look at him and with a smile said:

"I'm going out for a while"

"And with who if you don't mind me asking?" Bruce smiled thinking it was some young love

"With (Name)" Duke said as if it was the most normal thing

"(Name)? Wouldn't it be easier if you spent time here at the mansion?" Bruce suggested a little confused by the fact that both preferred to spend time outside the mansion instead of there.

"No, I don't think so, it would be a little complicated for (Name) to get here" the boy answered

"Getting here?" he asked confused "Duke, what are you up to..." he was cut off by the young man

"I'm sorry Bruce but I have to go! I'm running late" he said and then left him with the word in his mouth

Once Duke left, Bruce stared at the door with a frown.

Why would it be difficult for you to get to Wayne Manor when you lived there?

Unless...

"Alfred!" called the butler

The game began

"Yes Master Bruce?" Alfred asked as he approached to see what he needed but he already knew very well

Alfred who was watching Bruce and Duke's interaction from the shadows of the mansion, had a sly smile on his face that hid when his son called for him.

"What? What do you mean they don't live here anymore?" Bruce asked the butler

"That's right Master Bruce. I thought you had realized that" Alfred said quietly

"No! I don't..." he sighed heavily and sat down in his chair while hiding his face in his hands

"I've been very busy" Wayne excused himself which made Alfred frown

"Busy? Busy for 15 years? So busy that he didn't give them even 5 minutes of his attention but still spent time with the other young masters?" Alfred pointed out

Bruce's heart stopped for a moment at his words. He was right (as always). How could he forget for 15 years his eldest heir, his first blood kid? Yes, the night with your mother had been fleeting but, you weren't to blame for his actions. But he should have been there for you when you lost your parents, in fact, since before your birth he should have been there for you and your mother since she was pregnant.

But now he didn't regret it. He knows he screwed up, but now he could fix it. He could buy you anything you want, go to your competitions, watch movies with you or do anything you like but...

What do you like to do?

What are your hobbies?

What movies do you like?

But now that he thinks about it...

What grade are you in? Are you in high school or already in college?

And if you're already in college, did you miss your graduation? What are you studying?

And what about your age? Your friends?

Who are you?

"Alfred" he turned to look at the butler who just looked at him neutrally "Where are they?"

"I'm afraid I can't answer your question, Master Bruce. They didn't leave a clue as to where they were going" Alfred replied

"What?" he stood up from his chair

"That's right" he nodded

After a few minutes of silence Bruce spoke again.

"And where is their room?"

He doesn't even remember the room he assigned you

"Follow me, sir."

"This is it, sir." Alfred stopped in front of a white door with some (f/c) (favorite color) decorations painted on it.

Bruce approached and caressed the details of the door as if just touching them would give him the power to know you better despite the years.

The eldest Wayne opened the door to your room only to find an empty room, a bed with the sheets and blankets folded on top of it and the walls in your favorite color.

"I don't remember when they painted their room," Bruce said as he looked around.

"They changed the color a couple of times. The last time they painted their room was when Master Duke arrived. He offered them his help after they helped him settle in better at the Manor," Alfred explained as he also looked at the room, not with curiosity like Bruce did but with longing and melancholy.

Bruce looked around the empty room and despite being the best detective in the world he couldn't find any clues as to who you really were or where you might have gone.

"Tsk... There's nothing here..." he muttered to himself

"Maybe... You should ask the other young masters and mistresses" Alfred suggested

"Maybe they saw you on your last day"

"Yeah..." Bruce snapped out of his thoughts "Maybe they know something"

After that, he left your empty room leaving the old butler alone. Alfred looked around the room one last time before leaving and closing the door.

Don't worry (Name), soon you'll have a better room than the last one.

While chaos was beginning to spread at the Wayne residence, you were waiting for Duke in the park in downtown Gotham just as you had agreed on the phone.

You were checking your phone while sitting on a bench. You were tired of waiting for your brother, but you would wait for him as long as necessary. You also understood that Wayne Manor was not that close to the center since it was somewhat (very) far from the rest of the city and if you were honest, from afar the mansion seemed somewhat haunted and when you were little you couldn't help but think it was Dracula's mansion. And those same thoughts made you feel terrified of living in that place, especially when it rained. You always went to Alfred for protection and the kind butler always assured you that there was nothing to fear and that Dracula was not real. Clearly, the mind of your 4-year-old self didn't think the same, and your idea didn't change when you discovered that your family were all security guards who only worked at night and that their symbols were bats (although some also had birds on their suits).

You smiled at that memory from your childhood, maybe not so pleasant at the time but now, at 19 years old, it made you laugh.

"Hey (Name)!" a voice made you come out of your daydream

When you turned to see who it was, you saw Duke running towards you with a big smile on his lips. You quickly got up from the bench you were sitting on and before you could take two steps, Duke had already reached where you were and hugged you.

You laughed at his somewhat childish attitude but you hugged him gladly anyway.

"It seems like you missed me" you joked still hugging him

"Of course I did" he turned to look at you "You are sorely missed at the mansion"

That's not true...

You wanted to contradict what he had said but to be honest you didn't want to fight with Duke and much less talk about the mansion and its inhabitants.

"Well well" you giggled "Where do you want to go? There are a couple of cafes around here if you want to go get something to drink and if you want we can go to the arcade to play some video games afterwards"

Even though Duke felt a little disappointed that you broke the hug between the two of you his eyes lit up when you mentioned the arcade.

"Sure! Let's go!" he said excitedly

"Okay, let's go" you smiled at him and then started walking towards a cafe you frequented

When you got to the cafe you both stood in line to order. When it was finally your turn you smiled at the barista and greeted him.

"Hey Mark" you greeted the boy

"Oh hey (Name)!" the boy greeted you back with a smile in kind "How are you? How's the race going?"

"Fine fine, a little too tiring" you chuckled "But I'm enjoying it"

"I'm glad to hear that" the boy smiled at you "Are you going to want the usual?"

"Yes please and you Duke?" you turned to see your brother who had just been staring at the boy and without you realizing it he was giving him a look that could kill anyone

Who was that boy?

A partner, friend, a crush? Or even worse...

A secret boyfriend?

Duke knew better than anyone that you were extremely good at keeping secrets so he wouldn't doubt that you had a partner and didn't tell anyone.

Damn... This made his plan more urgent...

Your voice brought Duke back to reality and his smile returned to his face.

"Oh yeah, I'd like a hot chocolate please."

"Okay," the young man nodded.

You paid for both drinks and waited a few minutes for your drinks to be prepared. Once you had your drinks, you sat down at a small table near the cafe window.

"So... how do you know that guy?" Duke asked you

"Well, I usually frequent this cafe, and he's usually here when I come so he already knows me a little" you giggled

"I see..." Duke said and then smiled "So tell me, how did college go for you?"

You were studying journalism, inspired by your father or rather stepfather, (F/N). And even though many people you knew tried to change your mind about it, you always remained sure of your decision. You were in your third semester, since the first 2 semesters you took online and to be honest, it was a little harder but much more fun and interesting.

"I'm doing great!" You said with a big smile "I've met so many interesting and nice people and the face-to-face classes are a little more difficult but I feel like I'm learning. One of my teachers is assigning us tutors who are high-level journalists and although I'm still waiting to see who is assigned to me as a tutor I just hope it's good"

"That sounds great!" Duke smiled

Even though he looked happy on the outside, he was actually frustrated on the inside.

Were you really that happy away from the mansion?

Away from them?

Away from him?

No, it can't be... That's impossible

He had missed you from the first second he found out you were gone!

Had you stopped loving him?

Is that why you don't tell him where you're living?

He was wondering all that but when he looked into your eyes he calmed down.

No, that wasn't possible

You are someone so sweet and kind, you would never forget him

If you did, why would you be there with him?

But even so, he wasn't going to take the risk, even though he enjoyed seeing you happy...

YOU NEED TO GO BACK HOME

Hellooo! Here's the next chapter! I hope you all like It and enjoy it! Sorry for taking a bit to publish this but I've been kind of busy, still I hope I publish the next chapter sooner. Also, I've been tagging everyone in the TAG LIST so tell me if you want me to add you!

Anyway, if you liked it I would appreciate if you leave a heart and I'm Also interested to heart if you have any ideas or opinions about the story.

See you in the next one!

-Izadi <3

TAG LIST

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[casscainmainly]

Why Duke Thomas Should Be A Dick Grayson Hater

Dick and Duke is such an underrated and underexplored relationship. Here is my pitch for why Duke should be a Dick Grayson hater.

1. The Rooftop Thing

Reason number one and the start of Duke's grudge should be the rooftop incident in Robin War. Dick, as part of his plan or whatever, leads Duke to a roof and abandons him to the cops.

LOOK AT DICK'S SMUG FACE. Tell me you wouldn't hold a grudge too if this was the FIRST major interaction you had with him?? Duke should use this against him at any possible opportunity.

2. ACAB

From We Are Robin #2. Once Duke finds out Dick used to be a cop, it's OVER for him.

3. Jason and Damian

Duke is quite close with Jason and Damian (in my head, particularly Damian - that's his LITTLE BROTHER). Anyway, these two are obsessed with Dick. You have Jason, with his miles-long brother issues that puts Dick on a pedestal, and you have Damian, who thinks Dick is the best person on Earth who can do no wrong. They would talk Duke's ears off about him. Duke would HATE IT.

4. Robin

This panel from Night of the Monster Men sums up quite nicely the difference in the way Dick and Duke approach vigilantism. Duke is the 'idealised' Robin, whose Robin-ing isn't contingent on Batman; Dick is more or less too tied up in Bruce. I think, because the Robin identity means a lot to Duke, having the original Robin be like this would irk Duke a LOT.

5. Tom Taylor

SPOILERS FOR CURRENT NIGHTWING RUN: in Nightwing #116, Dick gets framed for murder and Babs tells him to reveal he's Nightwing to clear him of suspicion. She says Bruce suggested it, and recounts everyone who agreed:

Hm. Is someone missing here? Oh yeah: DUKE. TT probably just forgot Duke, but where's the fun in that? Instead, if Duke is a Dick Grayson hater, you have the funniest scene imaginable. Everyone gathered in the Batcave, laying down their identities for Dick, and Duke is like 'I don't give a damn. He can rot in jail.' and peaces out.

BONUS points if he does this to get back at Dick for reason number 1.

6. Parallels

Duke's origin deliberately mirrors Bruce's, but that means it mirrors Dick's as well. Duke and Dick parallels go insane: they both had loving families, lost both parents at once, were in the foster system (varyingly for Dick but for the purposes of this post I'm gonna include it), were wards/not adopted by Bruce initially, have a huge reverence for family, have a thing about heights, view Robin as separate from Batman, forged their own identities, etc.

Tell me this page doesn't slap:

Anyway Duke would HATE this too. He'd be so annoyed that the person he has the most in common with is Dick, and that would fuel his Dick Grayson haterism.

Dick, on the other hand, has no hard feelings towards Duke. Duke would be glowering at him from the corner of the room and Dick would meet his gaze and be like 'ah Duke is so cute' and smile back. This would make Duke 10000x angrier.

Anyway that's my ideal Dick and Duke dynamic, feel free to add or modify or disagree with anything!!

[icupblog]

Where did the party go? Last part!!! part 1 part 2

Bruce didn't notice you weren't staying with them at first, it came to him slowly. The realisation that you, his child was elsewhere, away from your home, away from him. The hallways felt colder, the house emptier. Then when at a family dinner he realised, "where's name?" he was met with "why would I know?" "probably up in their room" "father can we focus on more important matters?" none of them were definitive. Where were you, you were only 17, right?

The heels you were wearing click against the cold marble floor of the office. Even though you were an intern and mostly went on coffee runs it still felt rewarding. "hey name, your back" shouts kitty the secretary "did you get mine" she says with a pout "maybeee, you'll have to say the magic word..." "PLEASE give me my coffee I'll love you forever and ever" "here ya go" she squeals as you place her extremely complicated order in front of her. "and in return" she hands you a file "wait seriously" "yup the boss wants you to look over" you give her your brightest smile before snatching the file out of her hands and running to your makeshift office.

When you finally return to your shared apartment you slump against the door before dramatically flopping onto the floor. "Gwen? did you get ice cream?" "It's in the freezer" your room mate shouts in reply. You sigh contently as you grab the bowl before sagging into the couch. "We're going to a party tomorrow" "who's we?" "me and my room mate name" "I've got wooork" "no you don't, day off tomorrow" "Oh so I'm just meant to follow you around on MY day off?" she thinks for a second "yeah, pretty much"

Dick loved his family, to him it was the thing that kept him anchored. He loved hanging out with Damian, annoying Jason and coddling Tim when he was in his obssessive state. He adored cass and steph as he always wanted sisters. You however, were distant? he can't really remember the last time you two had hung out. Were you avoiding him? Surely he hadn't done anything wrong, right? He barely remembers the last time you had shared a meal together let alone seen each other. He had to make it up to you! he searched his contacts for your number only to find he didn't have it? did you change your number or delete it off his phone or something? Why would you do that? do you really hate this family so much? he had to find you and get the answers he needed then after, you could come back home.

You sigh as you look in a floor length mirror, this dress was far too tight and blue. you preferred to stay away from the colours of your siblings. Too many bad memories, besides why would you want to represent some of the worst people in your life. "are you ready name?" Gwen shouts "yeah" you scurry over to the kitchen of your flat where you see your best friends doing- "pre-drinks!" Gwen shouts shoving a shot glass in your hands "c'mon loosen up!" william says from behind her. God they were monsters, they had far too much alcohol tolerance. They duo quickly shove you into the back of an uber before finally reaching a club they both agreed on.

The bright lights constantly flashed in your eyes. You were meant to be out there wasted, however whenever you were drunk you felt helpless, like you needed someone your family so you just took small sips of whatever the bartender gave you, keeping an eye on your friends. You shiver slightly in the chilly air before turning back around to the bar, hoping to get some more of whatever you were having.

Before you could realise anything was happening a leather jacket gets placed around your shoulders. "sorry saw you looking cold" a man says, you were about to shrug it off before you saw his face. You swear you remembered him from somewhere, you just can't put your finger on it. "so what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?" "drinking" you say with a smirk, did you used to date him? work with him? were do you know him from? "well last I checked the Waynes normally drink something a lot more expensive than" he gestured towards your drink "this" "how the fuck do you know me?" "woah, I'm Tim's friend, his well- I don't mean to brag but his best friend." "yeah, well me and Tim aren't really running around in the same circles anymore, please leave" you say shoving his jacket into his chest. Honestly of all the people to see here it just had to be someone who knew your brother, or well not just your brother (can you even call him that?) but them. You speed walk over to where William is talking to his boyfriend rick. "Who's bar guy" "freak from my past" "oooh, spicy" you give William a look before turning your back on, Tim's best friend, ew, even thinking about him gave you the creeps. "well the freak is freakly good looking-" "so what" "he's giving you puppy dog eyes-" he's trying to distract me from the fact that I hate my family and anything to do with them" "He's your BROTHER?" "NO, keep your voice down! brother's best friend" "Well if you hate your brother then maybe getting with hotshot over there will make you feel better" "can you leave it?"

"maybee, just maybeee-" "What?" "you need to get laid" you look at him with disgust, "I don't need a man to make myself feel better thanks." "not what I was trying to say" he puts his hands on your shoulder so your staring directly at him "you deserve to be happy, the more you wallow about your past the more upset you'll become, talk to the cute guy. Have fun. loosen up, those are your orders soldier!"

"Remember" he says as he makes you face the raven haired man " let loose, have more than one drink please!" he then pushes you in the direction of the bar and vanishes into the crowd, dragging Rick with him.

You mutter under your breath as you walk back. Tim's best friend gives you an amused look as you settle into the seat he's standing next to "change your mind?" "I was forced to." "Might as well make it worth your while" he says holding out a drink to you. You stare at his face for a second memorizing the way he's looking at you, like your normal, like he's normal, like he's not using you. You could... maybe get used to him. "what was your name aga-" "Conner, can I call you mine?" you shoot him a deadpanned look. "no-"

Jason knew he had done bad things, especially to his family, to Tim to name, to Bruce and Steph and Alfred and-

but that's beside the point, the point is he is trying, to make up for lost time with Dick and Bruce and trying to seek forgiveness with name and Tim. Like for example the other day he had hung out with Tim, it was awkward at first but he managed. They actually had a really good time together. See, he's changed, he's a better man, and now him and his family are thriving. "where's name?" Bruce never fails to have the deepest voice imaginable. "probably up in their room" he answers. Even though you two had had bad times, like when he slightly kidnapped you. You had forgiven him, when you first saw him in the manor you were so scared, you actually looked hilarious, he tried not to laugh. He wasn't going to do anything to you, just wanted to apologise. And he did!

It took you a while to warm up to him, but eventually you were pining for his attention. Not that he really noticed at the moment. Now that he thinks about it, he can't really remember the last time you had annoyed him about something, like what books he liked or whatever small talk you could come up with. Wait where were you?

You could barely open your eyes, it felt like your eyelids weighed a million pounds, god you were so hungover. maybe you could see if Gwen was awake, surely she would be almost as bad as you, right? You should check o- "hey sleepyhead" you squeal quickly and lift yourself up as a presence makes itself known. "thought you would be asleep the whole day," you look beside you as Conner hands you a glass of water "rough night huh?" he jokes. You stare at him in shock, what the hell? "got you something to eat as well there's a nice pastry shop down the road, and I got Gwen to let me back in after I got us something" still in shellshock you grab the water slowly and take small sips. "um, can I ask you a question Conner?" "thought you were calling me Kon?" "sorry?" "nevermind, shoot"

"did we sleep together?" a silence takes hold of your room Conner stares at the ground for a second before looking at you again.

"yes"

You spit out the water in your mouth, "oh my gosh I'm so sorry I just didn- "Oh not like that, we slept in the same bed" you let out a sigh of relief, "we did make out like a lot though" You immediately look down in shame, this was Tim's friend not your's. You can't let yourself think that this guy should be close to you. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that" "Making outs a two way street, you know that right, especially for the type we did, I mea-" "Not just that, your Tim's friend, this was a breach of trust," "thought you didn't like him that much" "i don't but-" "so if you don't like him why do you care what he thinks?" you look up at him as he's sitting on your bed, so out of place in your quaint room.

"well firstly, I have morals" he snickers at you "didn't seem that way to me last night-" you slap him gently on the arm "stop making it seem worse than it was." you look at him for a moment, and in that moment you imagine the possibility of being with him. "my family are complicated people, they- they care about each other. and they don't really care about me as much," Kon looks at you sadly "don't say whatever sappy thing that's in your head. I-I've tried to connect with them, I've tried to be a part of that family but unless they try as well I can't. I know what I am to them and I've made my piece with it. I'm happy here, in Metropolis with my friends, I don't need them anymore but sometimes, I just with I had a family you know." he looks at you for a moment then smiles softly. "I'm sorry about how they treated you," "Nothing for you to be sorry about" you say as you grab his hand. He looks at you, like really looks at you with your 'just got out of bed look' and your soft smile as you cradle your hand in his. He leans in, hoping beyond hope that you'll realise how much he cares about what happened between you two. How he noticed you, even in the manor, through dark hallways you were his guiding light. How when Tim was busy he would peek into your room just to find you sitting there studying, or chatting with a friend, or doing something so mundane he couldn't believe you lived in the same household as the others. You were special and you could be his. If you just leaned in too.

A sudden knock hits the door to the apartment, knocking you and Kon out a daze. You stare at each other for a second before you hear it "I need to see her, sorry" "Who are you?" noisy footsteps reach your door as you stand up to answer whoever visits someone at 8 in the morning. You swing open the door to find- Dick?

"hi" he says sheepishly, as if you'll scream at him for being in your presence, maybe a year ago, maybe a couple of months ago, but now you stare at him silently. "Is something wrong?" "yes and no, you kinda have to have the full story, anywa-" "is someone hurt?" "no-god no, I just came to say hi" you smile, confused at the older brother you've looked up to your whole life stumble over his words " you just did that" "well, by hi I mean like catch up with you. We haven't hung out in forever" "we never hung out in the first place," he looks at you as if you just spoke gibberish "well we can fix that!" he says with a determined look on his face "get changed, we're going!" "now?" "now!" you're laughing now, maybe because your hungover maybe because of how absurd this situation is but nonetheless it gets Dick's attention "What's what" "bro, I'm hungover and got a whole man in my room, the only way we're hanging out is if you calm down to realise that I look like I've been dragged through a hedge, here" you grab a piece of paper and a pen from inside your room being careful not to let Dick look inside, with his newfound attitude you doubt he'll like the fact that Tim's friend is on your bed trying to signal whether or not he should jump out of the window.

You write down your phone number and hand it to him. "I'm free friday, around 2pm" call me if you have to reschedule. "the-there's a man in there?" "no, your hallucinating this is all a dream, go home," You and Gwen succeeded in pushing Dick's catatonic state towards the door. "See you" you say before softly closing the door on his face.

You and Gwen share a look before Kon slowly exits your room. "Is he going to kill me?" "he'll have to go through me first" you say in mock seriousness you turn round to face him, "you got us breakfast?"

Yay it's finally done! Sorry it took so long, I had an english exam, then I overdosed in the hospital. But I'm okay now!!!!!

I'm leaning towards making the reader try and reconcile with the family, as someone who has had mental health problems I just wanna see my pookie happy </3. This might be the last chapter for now, just because I want to look into writing about other things, Still DC though don't worry. I might come back to this series but right now I'm happy with it.

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

Counterintuitively, Jason trafficking drugs himself, and the way he treats drug dealers in general is actually one of the core reasons I do believe he has a real moral backbone.

In Lost Days we see him mention that he killed his small arms teacher because the smack he was dealing was poisoned. In Nightwing (2016) Annual #2 Jason is particularly violent towards their enemy because he cut his heroin with other substances, leading to his mother's first overdose. In Under the Red Hood, his most important rule is 'no selling to kids', and he is specifically employing people who do sell drugs to adults.

Playing a bit of Headcanon Jazz here - listening to the notes Jason doesn't play as much as the ones he does - It feels really notable to me that dealing drugs is not enough to get on Jason's shit list. On some level Jason thinks it's okay to deal drugs. Even more importantly: Jason doesn't at all imply that drug users are at fault - nor that they need to have the choice to use taken from them 'for their own good'. Heck, I can't remember any instance of him saying that doing drugs is a bad thing.

He has lived with and cared for someone struggling with an addiction that she died to, which would have made it really easy to take him in a 'no leniency, no tolerance, kill all drug dealers and burn all the crack so no one can smoke it' road. Yet that's the opposite of how he's operating.

And I'm putting all that together to get a Jason who firmly believes in harm reduction and that when it comes to drugs, people have a right to risk; they have a right to choose to use. I don't think it's too much further of a stretch to say that he thinks that those who do use should be supported by infrastructure ensuring that their drugs are uncut and properly dosed and that they should have safe places to use and well funded rehab options if they want to quit.

This whole thing is so important to me because it lies completely outside of his emotional conflict of 'I wasn't avenged'; it's proof that there was more to Jason's talk about running Gotham differently than simply killing people.

Factually, there are a huge number of criminal activities that could be used to improve the lives of vulnerable people.

I firmly believe that no government has the right to detain, imprison, deport, et.c. people fleeing violence and persecution in their country of origin. A criminal organization that genuinely had their best interest in mind who could provide access to new identities, jobs, housing, and paperwork for cheap could save and change hundreds of lives. Sex workers, especially survival sex workers who want to quit and move on to a new job, could benefit enormously from protection from the cops, and from landlords kicking them out, and the ability to get criminal charges purged from their records, and lots of other stuff. People who use street drugs need a lot of the same things, as do people who need access to medication but for whatever reason can't get prescriptions the legal way.

This is all stuff that is already a staple of organized crime - they just do it in ways that are insanely abusive and exploitative.

It makes sense that Jason would look at that and think he could make it work! Honestly I'd love to read a comic about him trying! He could be the pinnacle of Be Gay Do Crime! Sadly though, it's very unlikely we ever will, especially because his term as a drug lord was so incredibly short to begin with. Under the Red Hood, a tiny snippet of Robin (1993) and Green Arrow (2001) #69 - #72 is really all we get, and none of those really got into the politics of his organization either.

Tho, there is a tiny snippet we possibly see in Seeing Red, my favorite Jason run ever, and I will take any excuse to talk about it so here we go lol!

This is a comic in which Batman gets some things wrong about Jason, and might be straight up lying to Green Arrow in places too, so I don't think we can take his word for it when he says Jason is driving up the trade. Especially not when Jason hasn't given a single flying fuck about collecting wealth for himself in basically any other appearance ever.

Is he using drugs as a trading good to some capacity? Yes, that's a minor plot point here, however, I think justice is very present in his reasoning. I think Jason is being selective with which shipments he's keeping - testing each and destroying the stuff that's extra dangerous, making sure that what's getting used is as safe as it can be. Plus, he might be reducing the supply so that drug trade can't expand, while considering complete elimination to be flatly undesirable, since it could force users to go cold turkey, something that can be dangerous, or at least very painful.

Now, obviously this is still headcanon territory, we never really see into Jason's head about this specific topic, but I do feel like it's a reasonable way to fill in that gap!

Anyways, this is why I've never felt like Jason's disagreements with Bruce's methods were purely about his own emotional desires. There's too much else surrounding that which he clearly also cares about.

[luludeluluramblings]

Vigilante!Smalltown!Reader exhausted and cornered after a night of running from the Bat Family.

Bruce with adoption papers in his Batbelt: I'd advise you just come quietly. You're exhausted and we have you surrounded.

Vigilante!Smalltown!Reader: Maybe, but do you really think I don't have a plan to get out of this?

Bruce my precious baby has a contingency plan im so proud: You're to exhausted to use your abilities any more, but, by all means, try.

Vigilante!Smalltown!Reader taking a deep breath and making sure the entire family's attention is on them.

Vigilante!Smalltown!Reader pointing directly at Bruce: Catwoman tops him.

The entire Bat Family's heads whipping to look at Bruce at breakneck speed.

Bruce: There is nothing wrong with-

Vigilante!Smalltown!Reader: He calls her 𝓜𝓸𝓶𝓶𝔂~

Bat Family.exe has stopped working

Bruce: It was only one time-

Jason: It's fucking true?!

Stephanie: Ｂａｔｍａｎ＇ｓ ａ ｂｏｔｔｏｍ．．．

Dick: There is nothing wrong with being a Bottom.

Barbara over the comms: We get it, Dick. You're a switch. But, really? A mommy kink, B? Talk about issues.

Duke: Cass, can you confirm if he's lying?

Cassandra the human lie detector: He is.

Tim: You guys realize this means Wonder Woman probably topped him too, right?

Damian: So that's how Mother got him...

The entire Bat Family dissolving into a massive analytical debate over all of Bruce's previous relationships and roasting the ever loving shit outta him while Bruce continues to deny being a bottom.

Vigilante!Smalltown!Reader sneaking off: my work here is done

A/N: I may have cackled while writing this. It's terrible, but, boy oh boy, does it bring me delight.

A/N: I'm also in that weird place where I have a million ideas or none at all and either have very little time or motivation to write. No in between. Urgh.

A/N: I don't actually headcannon Bruce as a bottom, but as a dude who has tried everything at least once (or twice.) But y'all can if y'all want.

[celestialgalaxyglow]

Batfam and Danny, Part 7

It was a nice sunny day in Gotham, Alfred had set up a family picnic in the gardens of the manor. For the most part it was peaceful, Dick, Jason, and Tim had only gotten into five distinct arguments/fights in the last hour, Cass and Barbara were meditating under a tree, Steph was suntanning, Duke was enjoying the food Alfred made, Damian was giving Danny another lesson on swordsmanship.

As for Bruce, he was happy seeing his family get along and getting a chance to relax and have fun. He quietly wished that this day could continue without any unexpected surprises.

A green portal opened above them and a white and green blur came out of it and pounced on Danny. Danny stumbled to the floor with a white-haired, green-eyes girl on top of him.

Danny: Ellie!

Ellie: Danny!

They got up and hugged.

Ellie: I've missed you!

Danny: I've missed you too.

They got up.

Ellie: So this is your new family?

Danny looked around to see the rest of the batfam ready to fight.

Ellie: Jumpy aren't they?

Danny: Yeah they are. He looked at Ellie. Ellie if you don't mind can you detransforms? We're currently just together as civilians.

Ellie: Sure thing. Ellie detransformed.

Danny: Everyone this is Ellie, my clone/little sister. Ellie this is my family.

The Bats looked at Danny and Ellie back and forth.

Ellie: You didn't tell them about me did you?

Danny: I could have sworn that I did.

Jason: No Danny you did not!

Danny: Ellie this is my dad Jason.

Ellie (running up to Jason, giving him a hug): Hi! Danny's told me so much about you in his letters!

Jason: Hi, good to meet you too. Jason looked down at her. So... you're a clone?

Ellie: Yeah, I was created by Vlad back when he was still evil. We're all chill now.

Jason (looking at Danny): Kid, how could you not mention you have a sister?

Ellie: Well he doesn't have A sister.

Jason: Danny!?

Danny: I have another sister, an older one, her name is Jazz, she's 19 and lives in Metropolis. I sometimes fly over there to visit her.

Jason: Kid!

Danny: Sorry, Jazz doesn't want to be involved with this superhero stuff while she's in college unless she really needs to, and Ellie lives in the Infinite Realms full-time.

Jason: ...I can't even be mad, this is exactly the kind of thing I would pull.

Ellie: You're family is weird.

Danny: And I love them all the same.

Alfred: Miss Ellie would you like to join our picnic?

Ellie: Oh I wouldn't want to intrude.

Damian: You came out of a portal, and attacked my nephew and pupil, disrupting our lesson, you have intruded.

Ellie: Damian I presume?

Damian: Indeed.

Ellie (choosing chaos): Danny also writes about you, you're his favorite uncle.

Dick and Tim: WHAT!?

Damian: I am?

Ellie: Yes, he loves going on patrol with you and your swordsmanship lessons.

Damian: ...You are welcomed to stay as long as you like, niece.

Ellie: Thank you.

Ellie walked towards the picnic table and started eating some strawberries. Meanwhile Dick and Tim approached Danny.

Dick and Tim: Explain yourself!

Danny: She's lying I don't have a favorite! [Internally: Ellie's not wrong that Damian's my favorite, but I've never written that down!]

Dick: Good, because we all know I'm your favorite.

Tim: In your dreams Richard, I am.

Dick: No you're not Timothy.

Tim: Yes I am.

Dick: No you're not!

Dick rushed towards Tim and the two started fighting.

Damian: Let's continue our lesson Danny, we've wasted valuable time, we don't need to watch does two fight it out for the sixth time in the last hour.

Danny: Yes sir!

Alfred: Master Duke, thank you for not losing your composure.

Duke: Too busy eating right now to care.

Bruce (on the brink of tears): Why does the universe hate me? Why can't we have one normal day?

(Master Post)