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[peachinthenight]

[peachinthenight]

i do unironically think the best artists of our generation are posting to get 20 notes and 3 reblogs btw. that fanfic with like 45 kudos is some of the best stuff ever written. those OCs you carry around have some of the richest backstories and worldbuilding someone has ever seen. please do not think that reaching only a few people when you post means your art isn't worth celebrating.

[peachinthenight]

Penny For Your Thoughts

masterlist

Alfred Pennyworth x F!Reader

Rated E - 5.2k

Tags: age gap, oral sex (f & m rec), light daddy kink, praise kink, fingering, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, PiV, creampie, fluff, Alfred is a service dom and a gentleman

A/N - I don’t know what this is - I just thought Alfred looked pretty dilf-y in The Batman and then I ended up here (and a big thank you to some sweet, encouraging friends when I casually brought this up 💕)

You can’t help but wonder about the Wayne family. But it’s not Bruce, the young billionaire, who’s caught your eye… it’s someone else entirely.

You could see them from your seat at the crowded bar the moment the two men enter. It was a bit of a surprise, given his reclusive reputation, but at some point anyone who was anyone showed up at the Parliament.

It was a place of wealth, of secrets, trading pieces of paper worth more than their weight in gold in dark, tucked away corners. You'd already done your part for the night, a sealed envelope subtly tucked into a purse as you kissed their cheek in greeting, pulled them in for a hug like an old friend. Nothing more than a messenger, never stepping beyond the open bar floor to the split pathways of deeper, darker rooms.

They separate, the younger man's face grave as he moves on, and you’re more than a little curious how he knows the way, maybe a bit more so if you didn't dislike him so much.

Bruce Wayne was fascinating, you couldn't deny that, but you'd already spent your share of evenings in his company - galas by your clients, and over the hours had experienced little more than a few minutes of conversation, and even less than that of eye contact.

You'd done 'moody' before, and that was an unpleasant experience - but they had nothing on him.

No, your interest was turned elsewhere, to the older man leaning against the bar, sharply-dressed, cane in hand. He had become your idle fascination - Alfred - Wayne’s butler. But personally, you weren't so sure.

Accents and fine clothes were common, you had a few wealthy friends and had observed first-hand, but they all seemed to fit into a mold that he did not.

They did not hold themselves like he did, have scars that cleaved one of their brows in two. Watched with careful eyes, like he was now - too focused on Bruce’s retreating figure to notice you sliding, drink in hand, onto the stool next to him.

“Mr. Pennyworth.” You greet him, and he takes your offered hand, squeezing it gently.

He greets you, your name sounding sweet on his tongue. If he’s surprised, he does not show it.

"Always a pleasure to see you, miss."

You adjust, smoothy crossing one leg over the other, the hem of your dress riding high on your thigh. He throws a quick look towards the arched doorway in the back, the one painted a deep, burgundy red, where Bruce stands talking to two men, their heads bowed.

But then his attention shifts, those grey-blue eyes just on you.

“I didn’t expect to see you here. This doesn’t seem to be your usual spot.”

Alfred smiles, voice friendly but evasive, “Just here on business, miss. What about yourself?"

“Same,” You smile back, “Though I've already done my rounds. I've been waiting for the traffic to die down so I can grab a cab."

There’s a brief lull as you tip your drink back - a cocktail of sparkling water, fruit and herbs that makes your throat burn, almost missing the quick, subtle path his eyes make down your form.

You’ve wondered about him before, what he does all day. If he ever goes out. For the most part you’ve only seen him with Bruce, as a driver, or escorting him like this.

Does he ever get lonely, up in that tower? He’s a handsome man, does he have someone? A lover, an old flame, that he returns to, night after night.

You’ve thought about that last question more than you’d like to admit.

Fortune favors the bold, and you don’t know when you’ll see him again.

Carefully, you prod.

“Too bad you’re not here for fun, instead.” You set your drink down on the napkin, creating a second, matching wet ring, “That would’ve been even more interesting.”

He hesitates, blinking as his lips part, and you wonder if he interpreted it the way you meant, or maybe another way entirely.

“You flatter me,” He says after a moment, smile is small, rueful, “But I think I am far too old for that sort of thing."

That makes you grin, a surprised laugh bubbling from your throat, “That’s ridiculous.”

Your smile softens, your chin balancing in the cupped palm of your hand as you lean in, just a tiny bit, "Maybe you haven't met the right girl yet."

“Ah.” He breathes out the word, and your eyes drop to his mouth, “Perhaps someone more like Master Wayne…”

That grabs your attention and you laugh, a small shake to your head, “I am certain Mr. Wayne is not interested, nor am I-“

Your words are cut off, as the man himself appears just over the older man’s shoulder, his brows furrowed. But Alfred’s eyes linger, just a moment too long, before he’s turning to greet him.

“Just missed them. They’re at the other-”, Bruce’s voice is gravely, tinged with irritation. It’s then that his eyes flick up towards you, and he halts, while you smile politely.

He takes a step back, turning again towards Alfred, “I have to go. I’ll be home later.”

To his credit, he does incline his head towards you in farewell, your eyes meeting the briefest flash of blue before he’s sweeping out the door, his long coat billowing like a cape as he steps into the street.

Your eyebrows raise. Moody, for sure.

“My apologies,” Alfred’s smile is tight as he turns back towards you, “It appears my business has been concluded.”

“Seems like,” You smile, “It was really nice seeing you.”

He hesitates, before making a private decision, “Allow me to offer you a ride home. I believe you’re on the way, and it’s the least I can do.”

The crook of his arm is offered and you take it, slipping your hand under his elbow to rest against a strong forearm, your own coat tucked under your arm.

“Thank you. That would be lovely.”

———

“This is me.” You gesture towards the brick apartment just up the street, the tidy concrete steps leading to a sage-green door.

The drive over had not been long, the leather seat soft under your thigh, the heat turned up against the perpetual sprinkle of rain outside. Though short, you had plenty of time to think, letting your mind wander.

Wondering if he’d stay if you invited him. If his calm, strong presence would flow into that space. His voice low in your ear, strong hands on your hips as he ruts into you, fills you-

These lewd thoughts are interrupted as the car slows - there’s an empty space nearby, and he effortlessly parks, the engine idling quietly.

“Thank you for the ride, Alfred,” Your hand rests on the door, as you pluck up the courage again. You’d both been dancing around something before, and the heavy weight of it still seemed to linger.

“Would you come up if I asked you?” You glance sideways at him as you ask, barely catching the way his hands go still on the wheel.

“Oh,” Alfred blinks, caught off guard by your question, but it’s not a rejection - the leather seats slick under the silk of your dress as you adjust to face him, your elbow resting against the center console.

“It’s uh, been a while.” He hedges, eyes flicking from your face as you inch closer, to where your fingers reach out to touch his knee.

“I don’t mind if you’re nervous,” Your smile is small, encouraging, “I’m a little nervous too.”

At that he laughs, little more than a low huff of breath, just as your hand splays across his thigh. His head tilts, close to yours, enough to where your noses almost brush.

“That’s not what I said, dove.” His voice is low, an edge to it that makes your thighs press together, your head tilting as your eyes close.

It’s an offer, and after a moment he accepts, lips warm against yours as he leans into you, swallowing your soft moan - his palm cupping your jaw, the space under your ear. He kisses you, his touch firm, groaning when you deepen it, prickles of heat running up your spine when he lets your tongue brush against his.

Your eyes are heavy-lidded when you draw back, watching the way his tongue swipes over his lower lip, “Come inside.”

For a second his jaw tightens, another soft, low, almost incredulous sound - before he shakes his head in gentle resignation.

The ignition turns off, the headlights going dim in the evening light.

“Alright.”

———

You take the steps two at a time, a nervous energy making you jittery - while he takes each one at a slow, steady pace, always one step behind, his coat and cane tucked under his arm.

His hand covers yours when you fumble with the lock, strong fingers wrapping around to fit the key in, the other hand at the small of your back to guide you inside.

Your apartment is how you left it - small, but tidy, a combination living room and kitchen filling the entrance, your white bedroom door tucked off to the side.

“Bedroom?” You ask, taking a step towards the door, but his hand is still on yours, using it to tug you against him.

Alfred turns, taking you with him, your back pressing against the front door as he crowds you, head tilting to kiss you again.

Your hands wrap around his shoulders for balance, his hands bunching the soft fabric at your waist, tugging up the hem so he can fit a thigh between yours - rocking it snugly against you, giving you something to grind down on.

His tongue is sweeping into your mouth, warm hands cupping your jaw as you grind against him, low sounds coming his throat when you whine. You can feel him, half-hard from where he pressed against you, and you want more - want him.

Your hand comes down to cup him, fingers wrapping around and squeezing - breaking the kiss as he groans out loud, rocking into your touch.

“Bedroom.” He answers huskily, keeping you steady as he steps away, fingers trailing from your jaw to your shoulder, down your arm.

You lead him there, through the doorway, into the little safe haven of your room. The bed dips as you sit down on the edge, reaching for the criss-crossing straps of your heels.

“Allow me,” He’s already kneeling, palm cupping the meat of your calf, fingers deftly tugging at the straps, gently removing the shoe from your tired foot before tucking it next to your nightstand.

He repeats the motions, warm hands brushing over the bare skin of your legs, until he carefully places your other foot on the woven rug. It’s hot, really fucking hot, and you’re not sure why - his touch gentle and not all that scandalous, but just seeing him between your legs…

You let your thighs fall open as he still kneels, wide enough to stretch the hem of your skirt across your thighs, watching with baited breath, your lower lip pinched between teeth. Watching as his eyes follow the path of skin, up your clothed cunt, where you can feel your heartbeat thudding.

He breathes out a rough breath, before murmuring, “Stunning.”

You don’t know if he means you, all of you, or just the scrap of fabric that has to be soaked through, but you hike your dress up a little further, just as his hands slide from your ankles up to the outside edge of your knee.

With careful fingers he pushes your dress up the rest of the way to your waist, fingertips pressing into your hips as you lean back on your elbows, letting him fit between your thighs.

“Please, sir.” His natural elegance feels like it needs a title, though there’s a short jerk of his head as his mouth and then nose brushes over the bare skin your lower stomach.

“Not sir.” Alfred grits out, lips touching the lace covering your mound now, so close to where you want him.

“Mr. Pennyworth?” You offer lightly, and his eyes flick to your now, bright and glittering as he gives his head a minute shake.

“No, not that either. Just-“

“Alfred,” you coo, smiling as your hips shift, a shallow rock upwards, “If you wanted me to call you daddy, all you had to do was ask.”

Fingers dig into your hips, harsh and pinching, his focus forgotten as he gives an involuntary groan, his hips rutting against the side of the bed.

Your eyebrows lift, your lips forming a soft “oh” of interest, but he’s giving you a warning look, his voice low, “That mouth, darling, is going to get you into trouble.”

But he’s wrong, it’s his own mouth that will - because it’s pressing against your lace-covered pussy, his tongue flattening against the damp patch. Your hips jerk against his lips as you cry out, his hands moving around your hip to cup your ass, to keep you pressed flush against him.

He groans against you, loudly, the fabric darkening under his tongue and your wet cunt, tasting you over it - until his fingers tug the fabric to the side so he can lick you properly.

The trace of his tongue is slow, a low groan in his throat as he parts you, tongue pressing between warm, soaked folds.

“Oh,” he grits out, only pulling back to peel your panties down you legs, “I could eat you all day.”

Alfred’s mouth covers you then, licking and kissing, beard scraping your inner thighs as he presses himself as close as he can, tongue teasing at your clit until you’re moaning, chasing the building pleasure.

You skin feels hot - confined in all these layers - fingers tugging clumsily at the hidden zipper of your dress, wriggling the fabric over your head the second it’s loose enough, losing it over the edge of the bed.

When you look down again he’s watching you, lifting his head as your slick clings to his lips, eyes roving over the matching lace covering your breasts, the bare expanse of your skin.

“Can I touch you, dove?” He asks, his breath hot against your thigh, all the while carefully removing his cufflinks, a wink of his gold watch disappearing into his trousers, before he rolls his sleeves up.

“Yes,” you all but beg, watching more skin appear with each roll, until both arms are bare.

Alfred hums a low sigh, hand drifting from your arm to between your spread thighs, almost reverent in the way he glides a finger across your clit. You hope he stays there, teasing the sensitive bud, but he keeps moving downwards, tracing your opening, gathering your slick before pressing in. Your stomach jolts as he sinks deep to the knuckle and thrusts, easing your ache for more.

His position adjusts, pulling back so he watch as he works another in - and this time you whimper with the gentle stretch. But you’re watching too, the flex of muscles in his wrist, the base of his fingers slick and shining.

“Gorgeous,” Alfred murmurs, before his head dips down, kissing your clit before he licks it, making your thighs tremor, your fingers claw at the sheets. The pump of his fingers match the steady flick of his tongue, before he curls and drags them against your inner walls.

He’s watching you as you yelp, doing it again, pushing in, curling, and your mouth falls open in along moan, your hips flexing needily into his hand, his mouth.

“Again.” You whimper, and you think he smiles, his lips replace his tongue as he sucks at your clit. Always dragging over that same spot, each one drawing your breath faster, heat growing in your belly as his fingers thrust.

Your chest feels tight, unable to get enough air with each of your short breaths, vision going hazy as he fucks you on his fingers, and fuck - you’re so close, your muscles going stiff as you clench down around him.

The words that spill from your lips are babble, a whimpered mess of your desires, “Fuck me, oh god, please-“

His head lifts for a moment, his fingers pounding into you, his voice gentle and coaxing, “I will, darling. Anything you want. But I need you to come for me first. Can you do that for daddy?”

Oh god, this man is going to ruin you, and you can feel the heat in your cheeks, blossoming across your chest at his words. You’re impossibly wet, wound up, and all you can do is nod, barely squeaking out a “yes” before your vision starts to go hazy, eyes unfocusing as the pleasure crashes within you.

Your head tilts back as your back bows, gushing against his tongue as your cunt pulses around the fingers that continue to move - wave after wave until your hand grasps from him, almost pushing you into overstimulation.

“Oh god,” you moan in a sort of dazed shock, your limbs going limp as he carefully withdraws his fingers, before kissing down until his tongue can slip against you, tasting your release and making your thighs flex.

“I thought you didn’t like that name.” You accusatory question is soft in your afterglow, the pleasure still blooming in your core.

“Ah, that’s not what I said, either.” His lips quirk up, moving to stand next to you by the bed, working at the shining buttons of his vest, you rising quickly to help.

He’s hard, achingly so, his hips jutting into your touch as you loosen his belt, seeing how he strains against his trousers.

“In fact,” Alfred considers, watching the way your hand reaches for the button, “I seem to really like it when you say it.”

That makes you preen, leaving him to work on the small buttons of his shirt, his tie, as you wrestle with his belt. You make short work of the zipper, tugging his trousers down, seeing the dark, soaked mark against the tent of his boxers, where he’s leaked through the fabric.

You mimic his movements before, kissing the clothed curve of his cock, earning a low, moaned curse. Fingers bite into his hips, dragging the boxers down to his calves, his length bobbing free.

It should be the first thing you notice, but it’s not - your eyes are drawn to the snarl of scar tissue curving up his hip, the healed slashes near his stomach now that his shirt is unbuttoned.

He’s gone silent, giving you nothing. Secrets are treasures here, more precious than gold. Maybe you’ll earn them, someday, but that someday is not tonight. Instead of asking, you press a kiss to his hip, then lower, until your lips drag along his cock, down to the flushed tip.

“Christ, darling-,” He groans through gritted teeth, as you take him into your mouth, your lips wrapping around him as you bob your head, slicking him up.

You make it down, slowly, to the base, his cock choking you, filling your mouth. After the way he touched you, fucking you until you saw stars - you’d deep throat him, swallow him down if he wanted.

But instead his lips part, his hips carefully still except for the occasional small thrust, his hands cradling the back of your head as you gaze up at him, watching. Seeing the way he groans appreciatively when you suck on him, when your fist wraps around him and pumps, your tongue licking at the sensitive glands at the tip.

He’s thick, achingly hard in your hand, the tip of him salty as he leaks onto your tongue. Your hand drifts down between your legs, to where the slick clings to your thighs, teasing at your clit - and he does jerk then, his cock sliding against your wet fist.

“You are, god-“ He tries to find words and fails, sucking in a shaky breath, “I promised to fuck you dove. If you keep doing that, I won’t be able to.”

You press harder at your clit when you hear him say “fuck” in the nice voice he has, your eyes drifting closed. You want to make him say it again, say more filthy things to you.

But instead, you’re eased off his cock, leaving it to hang heavy between his thighs as he steps out of his pants and boxers. Smiling, you scoot back on the bed, leaning back against the pillows, watching as he peels off socks, laying all the folded garments on the chair by your desk.

The bed dips as he eases onto it, settling smoothly on top of you, fitting between spread thighs. You lean back, just as he mouths at the soft skin of your neck, down to your breasts, your other hand reaching for him, fingers digging into his shoulder.

Teeth scrape over a lace-covered nipple, the slight pain blooming into pleasure, his lips closing around the tight bud and sucking. Fingers pluck at the clasps, until his mouth is on your bare skin, leaving both of you moaning.

“Oh, just like that.” You beg, his thumb swiping over one nipple, his tongue running over another. It has you clenching around nothing - molten, and you think that would come just from this if you could.

His hips dip down, grinding into yours, his cock trapped against the curve of your thigh. Mouth meet as he moves, sweeps tongue and soft sighs, liking the taste of yourself on his lips.

Slowly you rock against him, seeking friction, until you feel his cock brushing against your folds, moaning into his mouth.

You press your lips greedily against his cheek, mouth at his jaw, “I need you in me, now.”

He groans, the shift of his hips slicking his cock against your cunt, sliding over your lips, almost frictionless with how soaked you are.

“Indulge an old man darling, once more.” His voice is low, teeth gritting, “Use that smart mouth.”

Oh. You can feel yourself clench, your muscles tightening, breath hot against his neck, “Fuck me, daddy. Please.”

The sound he makes is sinful, a hand working between the two of you to line himself up, his tip pressing against your entrance.

But then he stills, lips parted in effort, pulling back to look at you, “Do you have protection?”

You nod, leaning and stretching to hook a finger around the knob of your bedside table, cracking the drawer open, “I have condoms if you want them.”

“If I want them.” He repeats, lips brushing your temple, “But what you do want, dove?”

You were right about him being perceptive, and you squirm beneath the weight, of both his body and his gaze, your eyes sliding away.

“Tell me.” Alfred draws you back with a palm against your cheek, an assertive edge to his voice, “Anything you want”.

Under his gaze it’s hard not to feel flushed, needy. Your confession slips out, coaxed by the look in his eyes, “I want-… I want you to come in me. I’ve been thinking about it all night.”

You’re scrambling to explain as his eyes close, his head dropping to the crook of your neck, “I’m clean. On the pill, too, I-“

“Fuck.” His hips shift, just staring to sink into you, your hands gripping his biceps, “Perfect, oh-“

His head lifts as he shifts his hips, as the blunt tip of his cock nudges forward, watching the way your lips part on a rough moan, your eyes widening as he sinks into your heat.

Slowly, he thrusts, pulling out half-way, before sliding back in, and you’re clenching at the feel of the sweet drag of him against your walls.

Again, and then again, the sharp punch of him filling you, the clap of skin on skin as your heels dig into the mattress, rocking your hips to meet him.

Until he’s pushing up onto his knees, hands on your waist to keep him deep, your thighs spreading wide as he curves over you.

The harsh slap speeds up, the thick stretch of him sending your body jolting, a slow bounce and rock of your hips beneath his hands. It’s more than you could’ve imagined, your earlier fantasies disappearing with wisps of smoke, replaced with the way he’s grinding against you now.

“Look at your tight, perfect cunt,” he murmurs, his hand sliding over your breasts, stomach, down to rub against your clit. “You’re taking me so well, aren’t you?”

The wet swipe of his fingers steals your words, any response you might have disappearing as you stare up at him, breathless, the grit of his jaw, the downcast eyes as he concentrates on where you’re connected.

He shifts, your legs catching on his hips, knees pressing against his chest, the angle changing until he’s hitting that spot he stroked with his fingers. You tremble under him, finding your voice with a hoarse cry, and those eyes flick up to yours.

“There?” He rasps, his hips drawing back, rutting against the spot again, “Like that?”

“Please,” you beg, and he obliges, an arm wrapping around your bent leg to hold you in place, his fingers rubbing your clit in small, tight circles.

You can feel it build, the hot pressure in your core, the tight wind until you feel like you’re about to snap.

“Oh, don’t stop,” You whine, rocking your hips to meet him, chasing the pleasure that’s about to spill over. Your head tilts, muffling your cries into your arm, bent so you can hold onto the sheets.

“Don’t hide your sweet sounds from me,” Alfred groans with an effort, “Let me hear you.”

You wonder if he’s close too, and it’s his voice the thought of him that has you gasping, clenching hard around his length. Your vision goes hazy, his face, the room around you dimming as you pulse, muscles feeling tight and you moan.

“God you’re gorgeous when you come.” His hips slow, but his fingers continue to circle, more gently, slick with your arousal, the seep of your release on his cock.

It twinges, your pussy still sensitive from your orgasm, and you’re still breathing hard as you come back down, pushing up on your elbow as you find yourself again.

His brow is furrowed, held still above you except for the smallest rock of his hips, lips parted as he exhales through them, holding himself back.

“What are you-?” You ask, your skin feeling alight, tingling, his fingers continuing to work at his clit.

The look he gives you is heavy, dark with need, “I want you to give me another, okay?”

Your laugh is strangled, half-whine, half-groan, but you can’t ignore the soft coaxing of his fingers, the feeling of his cock pressed so deep.

“I, haven’t, I-”

But he continues, his hips moving just a little bit more, keeping himself as deep as he can with short shallow thrusts, “You can do it darling, I know you can.”

You clench and he groans, a rough, broken sound, pushing forward until your knees are brushing your breasts, your head tilting up as his tilts down.

The slap of his hips is loud, your cunt soaked and taking him easily, your hand hooking around his neck so you can drag his mouth to yours, swallowing his groans.

Your breathe him in, the feeling of his weight on you, the tight feeling in your core. The harsh gasp of your breath, you body jolting with his thrusts, fingers scrambling against skin as you cling to him.

His name is sweet on your tongue, choked out as it hits you by surprise, your back bowing as your thighs clench, warm, sharp waves radiating from your core. You’re coming again, not as strongly as the first time, but it still leeches the energy from you, leaving you soft and boneless.

“Fuck,” Alfred groans, feeling your tight, wet heat gripping him, “There’s a good girl.”

He’s been holding back, you can feel it in the way he grips you now, wrapping his fingers until they grip the flesh of your hips, the way he thrusts, chasing his own pleasure now.

Sweat beads both your foreheads, your mind still swirling with sweet clouds and limbs leaden against your bed.

He implied that you might get into trouble, and now you know you are - knowing that after tonight you’ll want this again, want him.

But from the way he’s gazing at you, like he’s still unsure this is happening, like you might be just a dream, makes you hope he’ll want it, too.

“Oh fuck, I’m going to come.” Alfred grits out, his hips not quite as steady, a tremor in his arms, “Going to give you want you wanted.”

You plead for it, the slap of his hips turning into a sloppy grind, and he falls over the edge to your voice, the soft sighs of “please, come in me, I want to feel you, please-“

His groan is rough, broken, as he buries himself in you, face against your neck, bodies molded together as he spills inside your tight cunt. Filthy groans and praises twining together until it turns into wordless groans, until he’s spent all of himself in you.

The weight of him presses against you as he catches his breath, his exhale hot against your cheek as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. You feel sleepy, content, and it’s only when he stirs, sliding himself carefully from you, that you can bring yourself to move.

“That was-“ You smile lazily, unable to find words. The only time you’d come more than once was with yourself, and the memory already makes you feel flushed, even with the dull ache between your thighs.

“Quite.” There’s a softness to his smile, one that makes your chest feel tight and fluttery. He helps you sit up, and you leave him to clean up, slipping on the soft bathrobe hanging from the hook in the bathroom.

When you come back he’s already dressing, shrugging on the dark vest, adjusting the watch on his wrist. You feel shy then - young, unsure what to do.

He sees you then, hovering in the doorway, and his look falters, “You want me to stay.”

You’re not sure if it’s a question, and neither does he.

“I would if I could, and I mean that.” His voice is gentle, soothing, moving until his palms can run over your upper arms.

And you believe him, because how could you not - after all that has happened?

Walking him to the door, you shiver as you open it, the rain outside still coming down. It was a strange feeling, like no time and yet hours had passed, but it was still the same night, the same rain.

But now there’s a bright spotlight above that seems to cleave the sky in two - it’s been appearing a lot more often these days. You don’t know him well enough to say “drive safe”, but you wish it, quietly in your mind.

The doorway digs into your shoulders as your lean against it, pulling your fluffy robe tightly around you.

"Will I see you again?" Your voice sounds small, caught by the sharp wind outside.

He pauses on the step, his head tilting just barely to the side, "If that is what you want."

You worry your lip between teeth. You do want that, right now more than you’ve wanted anything. But you still feel nervous about putting the thought out there, exposed, “What about what you want?"

Lips curl in the hint of a smile, illuminated by the light on your doorstep. His hand lifts yours, lips brushing across your knuckles.

"You will see me again.”

You watch until the car disappears into the night, until the cold creeps under your robe.

Even then, you can’t hide your smile.

(If you made it this far please know that I appreciate and love you so much 💖)

[peachinthenight]

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[peachinthenight]

[peachinthenight]

Being inclusive with your reader insert fic is a kindness. It tells people of color (poc) that you are considering someone who does not look like you in your fic. It shows love and dedication to our craft. It tells poc that they belong here too and they can see themselves in your story.

Poc aren’t look for activism in fic, we know fandom isn’t that serious, but we should be able to have that same level of escapism when we turn to fic and fandom. We belong here too. This space is for everyone, not just one group of people.

Just to give a few examples of how simple it can be: say “skin warmed” instead of blushed, say “cradled your head” instead of running fingers through hair, say “angles yourself to kiss” instead of standing on tiptoes, use italics to indicate Spanish to take out a throwaway line of “you didn’t understand Spanish” things like that. Small changes that do not impact the fic at all but make a world of difference in inclusivity!

And for anything you can’t/don’t want to change, simply add warning in the beginning. Things like hair descriptors, anything reader might wear, some backstory for reader (especially involving family or where the story is set), readers job, things like that. A lot of times just having that heads up before the fic makes a world of difference!

And one example of kindness we as writers always worked to change: until recently (just a couple years ago) it wasn’t common to label the gender of the reader. But those who aren’t female asked writers to label it so they know which to read and which to avoid, and now it’s common to label the gender/pronouns of the reader. So it is possible! It just takes effort! And I’m a writer myself so I know it can be done!

We can pretend to be a bartender or a bounty hunter or an actress or anything else. But we shouldn’t have to imagine we’re a white one.

[peachinthenight]

Summary: The reader is Jey's baby sister. She finds herself getting into some trouble with Damian Priest when Jey leaves her backstage while he's busy with a match against JD McDonagh.

"I told you, I ain't want you near any of these dudes YN." Jey scolds you for what seems like the umpteenth time.

"So you get to run around and flirt with half of the girl's roster? But I have to just what? Sit here and wither away from loneliness and boredom?" You scoff.

Jey grits his teeth, clearly annoyed by your antics. "Yes!" He huffs at you. "Come on, YN. It's bad enough I got all these guys after me here on Raw. I don't need to be worrying about who's hanging around you too."

You roll your eyes at Jey. He's always been the more protective sibling of your brothers. When things broke down with The Bloodline and Roman you chose to leave with Jey rather than stay on Smackdown with the rest of the family.

"I'm not a child anymore, Jey. I can take care of myself." You remind Jey of your age.

"Come on, YN." Jay lets out a frustrated sigh. "Just, don't go getting into trouble, alright? For me?" He asks you.

You study your brother's pleading eyes and sigh. "Okay okay." You groan to yourself. "I'll hang backstage tonight, alright?" You give up.

"Thank you." Jey relaxes a bit. "Now, I've got a match against JD McDonagh in a bit that I need to get to. Wait for me here, please?" He asks you.

"I won't move from this spot." You nod. "As long as you promise to kick JD's ass for me." You joke.

Jey nods and heads off for his match. You keep your promise and remain in place backstage while you wait for Jey to come back.

You are absently scrolling through your phone when a shadow is cast over you indicating that someone is standing in front of you. You look up from your phone and find Damian Priest looming over you with a sly smile.

"Damian." You put down your phone and lean back a bit to create some space between the two of you. "Hello." You greet him.

"YN, what's going on mamas?" He asks you in that velvet-smooth tone of his. You watch his eyes rake over you briefly and lick his lips subtly.

"Oh, just waiting for Jey to kick your man JD's ass." You challenge him with a sly smile.

Damian huffs, cracking an amused grin as he does. "Jey benched you for the night huh?" He asks you. "Now that's a damn shame. Pretty mami like you? You should be out there kicking it with the crowd." He taunts you.

"Well, I can't argue with that." You shrug. "How come you're not out there, Damian?" You ask him.

"Now why would I want to be out there with JD and your brother when all of the fun is happening back here?" He asks you.

An amused grin plays on your lips. "Fair enough."

Damian's eyes rake over you one more time. He takes in every detail of your face and body on display in front of him that he can before his gaze returns to meet yours.

"What do you say we get out of here?" He suggests. "Drinks are on me." He offers

"Oh, you'd like that wouldn't you?" You giggle and set a delicate hand on his chest.

Damian glances down at your hand on his chest before returning your gaze again. "More than you know, mami." He chuckles.

You and Damian continue your little game of light touches and lingering gazes for a while. That is until Jey comes back from his match against JD and spots the two of you.

"YN!" Jey's voice carries across the room.

You look over Damian's shoulder as Jey marches across the room with a sour look on his face.

"Oh-ho, looks like the parties are over big man." You sigh and pat Damian's chest.

Damian chuckles as you hop to your feet and slip past him with an innocent smile. "Yeah, Jey?" You meet your brother halfway across the room.

"I asked you to stay out of trouble!" Jey scolds you.

"You asked me to stay backstage and out of the way." You argue with him. "And that's what I did." You add. "I haven't moved since you left for your match with JD."

Jey narrows his eyes at you and huffs a breath through his nose. You step off to his side and Jey shoots a glare toward Damian.

"Stay away from my sister, Priest," Jey warns Damian with a scowl before grabbing your arm and dragging you off.

"Bye, Damian." You call over your shoulder as Jey drags you off.

Damian laughs as you're dragged off. "Have a good night, gorgeous!" He calls after you.

[peachinthenight]

Rhea & Fem!Reader have a match for the title & Rhea has a plan to throw off the Reader's game. Rhea chooses Priest to woo the reader & gain their trust, it works but Priest has develop feelings during this ruse. Rhea's plan is a success & retains the title. The reader is visibly upset & Priest while celebrating with Judgement Day is heartbroken.

~~~𝑷𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔𝒕~~~

gif not mine like, comments, & reblogs appreciated

𝑫𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒂𝒏 𝑷𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 ^owner of gif

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒐 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅…𝒔𝒐 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅.

𝒂/𝒏: 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒉𝒖𝒓𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒍𝒚. 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒊 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒎𝒊𝒙𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒓𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒂𝒚…𝒊 𝒅𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒂 𝒅𝒂𝒎 𝒊𝒇 𝒊 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒆 𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒕🥲. 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝒊 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚𝒆𝒅𝒅𝒅<𝟑𝟑𝟑

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏 𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒔, 𝒕𝒔𝒌 𝒕𝒔𝒌 𝒖𝒉𝒏𝒕 𝒖𝒉𝒏𝒕 𝑫𝒂𝒎𝒊𝒂𝒏, 𝒀/𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝑹𝒉𝒆𝒂 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒇 𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌, 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕

not proofread

“HOLY SHIT?!” Michael Cole exclaims as everyone watches with shock written all across their faces as they witnessed Damian Priest drag Rhea Ripley out of the ring when she pinned Y/n, ruining her chances at winning.

Rhea looks at him with wide eyes as she shoves him, “What the hell do you think your doing, huh?!” She exclaims to him.

To the audience around them, it was a total shock. They would have never expected Damian Priest, off all the members, to be the one to backstab his own team in the back. Y/n was even shocked herself seeing as Damian was the one to cost her, her match back at Wrestlemania where she lost her title.

To the group? This is exactly what they wanted. This was the plan.

“We need to do something…something that can throw her and everyone else off. Make her believe that she has the upper hand in our rivalry…” Rhea says as she and her team members all huddle up in their locker room.

“What’s cooking in that mind of yours mami?” Dominik asks as he lays his head on her lap, tracing her championship belt.

Rhea trails her eyes to each one of her boys. She starts with Dominik. It’d be such a big shock to everyone in the arena and to y/n as well but what’s hers is her and she does not want to take a step in that route. She trails her eyes off to Finn. It could work but him and y/n never interacted, it’d be too suspicious. Her eyes skipped over JD and landed right on Damian who’s already looking at her.

“You…” Rhea points at Damian with a smirk, “tonight I have a regular match with her, I want you to ruin my chances at winning, enough where she thinks you’re on her side in this rivalry of ours. Gain her trust and make her fall in love with you or something.”

“Any reason why Damian should do it?” JD finds himself asking and immediately shrinks back when Damian gives him a hard stare. “Never mind…”

Damian stares Rhea down and the crowd waits. Waits for something to happen as they have a stare off. Y/n is stuck in her place as she watches, debating what to do. Her head turns towards the referee who starts counting down on Rhea.

“Don’t ever do that again, you hear me Damian?” Rhea jabs her finger against his chest before getting inside the ring, distracted. She kept shouting at Damian, trying to get the lost in this match.

Y/n takes it as her chance and runs up on Rhea, ending her with her finisher. She positions herself away from The Judgment Day and stares Damian down as she pins Rhea, catching the win.

•••

“I still can’t believe it…” y/n shook her head in disbelief, “he really backstabbed his own team in the back…out of everyone. I did not expect him of all.”

Liv Morgan shakes her head, “I just know she’s pissed, so so pissed.”

Y/n scoffs and nods, “did you see her face? of course she was.”

“What do you think will happen now after that?” Liv asks her and y/n frowns but before she could open her mouth, a deep voice stops her.

“Hey…”

Both woman’s head snap over to see their topic, standing in front of them.

Liv gives him a once over before walking away to let her friend handle it. Y/n gaze follows her before she removes it and lands it on Damian who is already staring at her.

“What’s the hunch?” Y/n asks, “why’d you do that for?”

Damian gives a deep sigh and shrugs, “I was sick of it. Sick of Rhea thinking that she can just run JD when she wasn’t even the first one to be a part of it.”

Y/n narrows her eyes and stares at him. She was trying to see any hint or indication that he might be lying but to no avail.

“So what now?” She finds herself asking.

“Let me help you…I know how Rhea plays. I know how she works. I know the games she likes to play. I can get you to get your title back.” Damian nods as he straightens himself up and stares at her.

Y/n raises an eyebrow and shakes her head, “why would i accept that?”

Damian tilts his head and ponders for a moment, “as an apology for making you lose your title.”

Y/n eyebrows raise in shock before shaking her head, “i don’t trust you…how do i know you won’t fuck up?”

Damian smirks and angles himself to her level, “guess you have to trust me.”

With that said, Damian turned around and walked away. Feeling eyes staring back at him.

•••

“You need to catch her by surprise, don’t start like that.”

Y/n rolls her eyes as she stands up. “How is this supposed to help me win back my title?”

It was just as surprising to Damian just as it was to Y/n when she had taken his offer. He expected more of a fight from her. More of trying to get her to trust him but it was easier said than done. Almost. It was a step to getting her trust, he knew that much. So did Rhea. All that was running through y/n’s mind when she took the offer was the thought of getting her title back. If that meant having to have help from the one who costed her, then so dam be it.

“I’m showing you how Rhea plays,” Damian gets out the ring and opens up his water bottle, “you need to try your own ways on blocking them and doing something better to get rid of them, you know?”

Y/n watches as he drinks his water, watching the way his adams apple bobbles.

Is that even what it’s called?

Y/n shrugs before paying back attention, “what if she changes her tactics, what then?”

Damian swallows his water and sets his bottle down before climbing back into the ring and walks over to her. “That’s why we’re going to practice every single thing I know about her.”

Y/n raises an eyebrow and tilts her head at him, “how can I trust that?”

Damian mocks her and tilts his head to the opposite side that hers is on and raises an eyebrow, “your trusting me right now, what’s the difference?”

Y/n narrows her eyes and straightens herself back and stares at him, “I’m not trusting you. I’m seeing you…”

Damian chuckles and straightens his head back, “you’ve been seeing me for three days now, at this point it’d be expected to have a little bit of trust in me.”

Y/n stares at him before looking away and making her way out the ring, “and it’s going to stay that way til’ I get my dam title back.” She walks away.

She always does. Damian noticed that every time he mentions something about trust, she always avoids it and walks away.

Damian watches her walk away, watching the way her hips unintentionally sway with each step she takes. He couldn’t help himself. “Is that how they move during those nights?” He called.

Y/n stops walking and looks back at him with a frown, confusion littered across her face. “What are you talking about…”

Damian smirks and looks her over, “nada.”

Y/n narrows her eyes before turning back around and walking out of the practice center.

“If that’s your way of wooing, then you suck.” Damian hears the familiar australian accent of his best friend and looks over to see Rhea leaning against the ropes of the ring, looking up at him.

Damian raises an eyebrow and walks over, crouching over to her level. “Try flirting with her then, i’d like to see how that goes.”

Rhea snorts and shakes her head, “what’s the progress?”


Damian shakes his head, “I’m teaching get your usual work when you fight but other than that, same old same old. I start talking about something other than this “mission” if you will, and she leaves. Most specifically, trust.”

Rhea gives an exasperated sigh, “Don’t mention anything about trust. Just let what happens, happens.” She says as she slides into the ring, making Damian stand to his full height and looks at her, “in the meantime, show me what you showed her.”

Damian chuckles and with that, they both get into practice with each other.

•••

He had taken her advice. Every time Damian would be around y/n showing her each and every move that he knows Rhea does, he steers clear from mentioning anything other than what they are doing.

At first, y/n had felt it was awkward for her. She never stayed too long with him at all. She’d always wait for him to start talking about something and she takes that as her cue to leave but now that he never does, it’s weird. Soon though, she got used to it. She got used to his presence and his talks of what to do and what not to do and soon enough, she’s the one who starts the conversations.

It’s been going on for a while. Their meetups in the practice center turned into meetups outside of the practice center.

To Y/n, she would update Liv about it all everyday. Even going as far to tell her that she could potentially trust him but that’s only for Liv’s ears.

As for Damian, he would update Rhea behind y/n’s back. Those updates though went from regularly to barely. In the midst of them hanging out, outside of work, Damian found himself enjoying her company. Enjoying the talks they had that didn’t involve Rhea. Enjoyed the hang outs that was just them two and no one else. Enjoying it enough to start to feel bad about this thing going on. He even talked to Finn about it.

“I don’t know man, i just…it doesn’t feel right to continue to play in her face like this.” Damian sighs as he leans back on the hotel couch with Finn next to him.

“Don’t tell me you’re startin’ to feel bad mate?” Finn raises an eyebrow at him.

“That’s exactly what i am telling you,” Damian takes a swig of his beer in hand.

Finn looks at him and Damian gives him a clear uncomfortable expression. “You like her don’t you?”

Damian didn’t dare to answer that day. He didn’t know it then but now…as he quite literally stares down the girl that ,he could potentially have something with only to ruin it, get ready? He thinks he probably does…

“How do I look?” Y/n turns around towards Damian with such a breathtaking smile that he has to hold back the compliment and give her a tight lipped smile.

“Good as per usual.” Damian nods.

Y/n gives him a disgusted look, “Good? Cariño, I need beautiful or something, i’m changing.”

Damian watches y/n grab another set of ring attire to go ahead and change for the fourth time today. All because he said good.

Damian stands up and immediately stops her, “no no no,” he shakes his head, “you look like everyone’s new championship. How ‘bout that?” He raises an eyebrow.

Y/n tilts her head, “could be better but I guess i’ll take it.” She gives him a sheepish smile before setting the gear in her hand, back down.

“You ready for tonight?” Damian finds himself asking as he slowly sits back down, watching y/n add some finishing touches to her makeup.

“Absolutely. With the amount of training we’ve been doing, I feel more than ready.” Y/n hums, “are you?”

Damian raises an eyebrow and stares at her from the mirror she’s staring at herself in. Was he? No. But he wouldn’t tell her that.

“For you to win that title back? Absolutely…” He trails off with a slow nod and a small smile that makes y/n beam at him.

There’s a moment of silence. During that silence, y/n and Damian are staring at each other through the mirror. Simply staring.

“Damian?” Y/n says quietly as she straightens herself back up to her height. Damian hums and watches as she suddenly grows nervous, “Thank you…for everything you’ve been doing for me for these past couple of weeks. It means a lot to me, truly.”

Damian takes in a shaky breath as he suddenly feels his chest tighten and the guilt crawl its way up to his heart. If he thought the guilt was strong before, then he was in for a rude awakening.

“And maybe after I win…” she continues on as someone walks in her locker room and gives her the time that she has before leaving, “we can go get something to eat? just me and you. celebrate together. all on me as a thank you…”

Damian closes his eyes and feels himself wanting to actually shed tears. This guilt was slowly growing bigger and bigger by the minute at each word she says. So clueless…

“Yeah…I’d love that.” Damian finds himself answering as he opens his eyes and sees her turned towards him with a smile. “Why don’t you go prepare for your entrance, i’ll be watching from the back.”

Y/n gives him a smile and leans down to give his cheek a kiss, lingering on longer then usual before quickly pulling away and strolling out and away.

Barely 2 minutes before she left does Rhea come barging in with the rest of the JD. “It’s all set yeah? Remember the plan?”

Damian stares at Rhea and slowly nods, his eyes trailing over to Finn who is already looking at him with sympathy before he looks back at Rhea.

“Yeah…I remember.”

•••

“OH WHAT THE HELL?!” Michael Cole exclaims as everyone watches with shock at witnessing Damian Priest dragging Y/n out of the ring by her legs.

Y/n whiplashes herself when she turns around and sees Damian standing in front of her with a hard face on. “What the hell are you doing? I had the pin, I was going to win.” She frowns.

Damian looks at her and slowly shakes his head, “that’s mami’s title.”

Y/n’s face drops as she stares at Damian. She doesn’t have any time to think because as soon as she hears the referee almost get to ten, she’s rushing back in the ring and is positioned into a riptide.

Rhea retains…

Y/n simply lays there as she stares up at the ceiling of the arena. It all suddenly makes sense to her now. All of the meetups in the practice center and even the hangouts outside of it, they were all a ploy. A ploy for Damian to get her to trust him enough to be blinded by the fact that he was just going to backstab her in the back.

Damian catches Rhea as she throws herself at him with a victorious laugh, holding up her championship belt. If you would have told Damian weeks ago that he’d be falling for someone that he was using, he would have laughed in your face. But now? Oh how he wishes he wasn’t the one that was chosen to do all of this.

“We did it playboy!” Rhea laughs as she gets down from him, “let’s go celebrate.”

Y/n slowly sits herself up and makes eye contact with Damian who is slowly walking away from her.

Guilt in his eyes.

Hurt in hers.

[peachinthenight]

Sex Pollen — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

girl dinner since my König sex pollen has over 900 notes♡

"That's it, love..." Ghost growls out as he pushes your hips up and down slowly, your warm, wet cunt engulfing his thick dick as his hips thrust up to meet you halfway. Your womb is already full of his cum, yet Ghost is unable to stop, each orgasm seemed to just be making his cock harder and his balls tighter. Being all the way inside you felt too damn good.

"So pretty like this, sweet girl... like you were made to take my fuckin' cock all the way inside that tight little cunt." He muttered between clenched teeth, trying his best not to cum inside you yet. For the first time in his life, Ghost was willingly having sex, and oh God, he can't believe he has been missing out on this. His thrusts were slow and deep, making sure to put your pleasure before his, hitting all the right spots with his fat cock.

"Ghost...—" His name being moaned out by you felt like music to his ears, his eyes narrowing slightly as his grip on your hips got tighter, pushing you faster up and down his dick as your tight walls gripped him, a mix of your cream and his cum coating his length, making a ring on the base of it. Though his face was concealed by the balaclava, you can see his expressive eyes focused completely on your face, basking in the pretty faces you make when you're cock-drunk. You already forgot how many orgasms he's pulled out of you, yet it all feels too damn good to ask him to stop, even when your cunt is abused and fucked-out.

"Fuck— angel, let me cum in you." He pleads for your consent, just as he did the last four times he came inside. "Want to fill you up so good, baby, please." Ghost's eyes roll to the back of his head as you give him your approval, groaning and grunting as he begins to thrust harder and deeper into you, his gloved hands pulling your hips all the way down so his cock is completely inside you as his thick, warm cum fills your womb up.

[peachinthenight]

Internal Conflict (Part 3 of 3)

Pairing - Batman x F!Hero!Reader Series - Under Your Skin Part 1 here | Part 2 here

Summary - In the aftermath of Harley's ambush, you and Batman actually have a civil conversation with each other. Could this be a fresh start for the two of you?

Warnings -Potential medical inaccuracies. Injury mentions. I think that's it?

A/N - This is getting posted a lot later than I had wanted, but life happened and kept getting in the way. But it's here now and, as always, hope you all enjoy 💜

Taglist - At the end of the fic. Please message me if you would like to be added/removed.

The first thing that Bruce was aware of was the dull throb in the side of his head. He groaned as he opened his eyes only for him to immediately shut them again as the light assaulted them. His first thought was a concussion. Which made sense since the last thing he remembered was Harley and her damn mallet.

He opened his eyes again, this time slower. Giving them time to adjust to the bright lights of the batcave’s medbay so he didn’t overwhelm them again. Slowly, and certainly against what he should be doing, he began to move to sit up. He groaned again as he rested against the back of the bed. Fuck, it had been a while since he had last felt this bad.

Since he was still alive, it was safe for him to conclude that you had managed to deal with Harley. Not that he had doubted it, but he was mad. At you. At Harley. At himself. The fact that it had happened at all and only because you hadn’t listened to him to begin with. He exhaled slowly. Getting worked up was making the tension in his head worse. Besides, maybe if he tried to calm his anger before he saw you next, there might be a chance for the two of you to start over.

“Finally decided to rejoin us I see.” Alfred walked over to the medbay, silver tray in hand. A glass of water and a couple of slices of toast sat on the tray.

“How long was I out for?” he asked, reaching over for the water.

“Several days,” he replied. “Mr Kent brought you back to the cave.”

Clark had brought him back here? Then what had happened to you? Were you okay? Since Alfred was unable to tell him, having been focused on assessing just how badly injured Bruce was, he texted the last person he knew to have seen you.

“You could have just texted back,” Bruce grumbled as the Kryptonian approached his medical bed. He shrugged.

“I was going to come by anyway so I figured I’d just tell you in person,” Clark replied.

“So what happened? How is she?” he asked again, slowly getting more frustrated.

“She was shot and she needed surgery, but she’s wake and doing well.”

Some of the tension faded at hearing that you were doing well. Though his brow furrowed a the thought of you being shot. There was no doubt in his mind that you were pissed off yourself at everything that had happened. If he approached his future conversation with you with his own anger, he was sure that the distance that had already painfully grown between the two of you, would grow further. And that could put the entire team in jeopardy. 

This could be his chance to fix things, but only if he managed to keep the conversation civil. Which meant swallowing his anger and doing his best to be more open and forthcoming. It was going to go against every instinct that he had, but it was likely the only way that was going to work to try and bridge this gap.

Now all he had to was wait for his opportunity to get out of here and back to the Watchtower.

The lights of the medbay were fluorescent and were making your eyes and head hurt. They had been since you had woken up here a few days ago. By all accounts you had got lucky. Very lucky. The worst of your injuries had been the bullet wound. You had needed surgery to remove it and repair the damage it caused. While your arm and ribs had been bruised down to the bone from the force and strength behind the throw and hitting the hard ground. You had been told that if you had landed just a little bit wrong, your arm likely would have snapped. Again, you were very lucky.

You don’t remember much of what happened after getting shot and triggering your SOS beacon. A lot of it blurring into one as shock settled in and you quickly lost blood.

You had yet to see or even hear from Batman yet. According to Dinah and Oliver, when they had come to visit you, Superman had taken him back to the batcave to recover there whilst Wonder Woman had made sure that Harley Quin was returned back behind bars.

As far as you knew, he had yet to return to the Watchtower. You were sure if he had by now, you would definitely know about it since you were sure he blamed you for the entire situation happening to begin with. Hell, you blamed yourself. You shouldn’t have allowed yourself to become distracted like that. If you hadn’t managed to take on the hyenas and Harley, your mistake would have got the both of you killed.

Since there were no complications following your injury and, other than the pain that radiated from your ribs that the painkillers you were on barely touched, you were good to go home and rest there.

It was a slow process for you to get your suit on, your body protesting every movement, making you curse under your breath. If you’d had any other clothing on the Watchtower you would have chosen those instead, but you didn’t. Your ruined suit was all that you had. You made a mental note to bring some the next time you came back. You were already dreading removing it again once you were finally home.

“You were shot, you should be resting.”

You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Not here to shout? Blame me for what happened?” There was no bite in your words. Between the pain and the lack of energy you couldn’t be bothered.

“No. I’m not.” 

You stopped what you were doing and looked at him. What? Was he feeling alright? You scoffed. “Damn, she must have really hit you hard in your head huh?” You turned away again, returning your focus back on making sure all of your equipment was there.

You heard him sigh softly. “It’s not like that…”

“Then what is it like?” 

It was a fair question, you thought. Considering he currently had you cornered in the medbay right now. And all you wanted was to get home.

“We really need to talk.”

You sighed, but nodded. For once, he wasn’t wrong and you had known from the moment you woke up that this was coming.

“About how I fucked up? About how I almost got both of us killed?” The anger in your voice, for once, wasn’t for him. The longer you had to dwell over all of if, the more mad you had got at yourself.

“About everything.”

“Everything?” 

You looked at him again, an eyebrow raised. If he was anyone else, you would have assumed it was a joke. But you knew he was dead serious. Batman didn’t know how to joke.

“Really? Everything? Right here where anyone can overhear us?” You gestured to the wide open space of the medbay around you. Batman looked around and then gestured with his head for you to follow him.

You followed him through the Watchtower at a pace that didn’t aggravate your injuries too much. You were sure he noticed because he adjusted his own pace to match yours, while still staying ahead of you. He led you into his laboratory. As soon as you both entered the room, he locked the door. Now the only concern was Superman, though something told you that he likely already knew so what the hell did it matter anyway?

You didn’t wait for him to offer you a seat, instead grabbing the nearest chair and carefully lowering yourself onto it. You could feel his eyes on you the entire time.

“I’m fine. It’s not the first time I’ve been shot.” 

“Doesn’t matter if it’s the first time or the hundredth time, that’s still a severe injury. Not to forget the amount of bruising you have,”  he replied.

“Thought medical records were supposed to be confidential? Even here?”

“Superman told me about you needing surgery for the bullet and, taking my strength into account and the hard flooring, it would make sense that you either broke something or ended up badly bruised,” he said very matter of factly.

You nodded. “So where are we even supposed to start after months of bullshit started by both of us?”

He hummed, but didn’t say anything. Which made you scoff as you realised.

“Really? You tell me I should be resting, considering I was shot, then you say we need to talk and you don’t even know where to start? Fuck me.” Your pain killers were starting to wear off and your patience for him was wearing thin. 

“In my defence, with how you’ve been ignoring me, I didn’t think we would even get this far.” His voice remained calm, as did his body language. There was no sign of him becoming agitated despite the fact that you had snapped.

“Then how about we start with Star City?”

The conversation between the two of you was a long one. The longest that you both had had without it ending in a yelling match or sex. It certainly came as a surprise. As did his honesty.

“I shouldn’t have snapped the way I did. I let my emotions take over and I shouldn’t have let that happen.”

“Was any of what you said true?”

He nodded. He had meant what he said about making sure you could handle the burden that came with saving the world on a semi regular basis. But he had come to the conclusion that you could handle it just fine within the first couple of months. His aim had been to try and hurt you and he had no excuse for it.

You never thought you would see the day that he actually held himself responsible for his own actions. It was also likely as close to a “sorry” as you were going to get. Which was fine as it was more than you had been expecting to begin with anyway.

“I didn’t have to yell like that, could have just walked away instead. But that doesn’t mean I regret what I said.”

“Most people don’t.”

“Yeah, I can’t imagine why,” you replied, a small smile forming on your lips. I wasn’t hard to imagine the amount of people who must have yelled at him in a similar way because of what a dick he was being. 

It felt good to not need to have your guard up around him all the time, waiting for him to start on you. It was clear to you that this was his try at a do over between the two of you and you agreed. It was needed. It didn’t mean you had to be best friends with each other. With all that had transpired you doubted that would possible, but if you could be on friendly terms, it would benefit the rest of the League a lot more. 

By now your pain killers had fully worn off. Batman noticed before you could even say anything. He was up and out of his chair and left the room, without even a word to you. Which had left you wondering “”what the hell?”. Your confusion was answered when he returned with pills and a bottle of water in hand. 

“I could’ve got them myself. I’m not completely helpless,” you said as he handed them both over. He shrugged and took his seat again. You muttered a thank you before chasing the pills down with the water. 

Whilst you were waiting for the medication to kick in, he decided to keep the conversation going. Making sure that there was no chance for an uncomfortable silence.

“I never should have dragged you into that storage room to begin with. Clearly it made everything between us worse.”

His words almost had you choking on your water as you snorted.

“I could have escaped your grip and told you to go fuck yourself,” you replied, with a small shrug. “We’re both to blame for the way that escalated.” 

It was the truth. You didn’t have to go along with him any time it had happened. You could have easily walked away whenever and you hadn’t until you had finally hit your breaking point. Things never should have been allowed to escalate that far, but both of you had let it. You knew that. As you were sure that he did as well.

Batman nodded in agreement. “Are we good now?” he asked. 

“I mean, we’re better than we were. I think at least. Definitely not bestie though,” you replied.

“Of course not. That would be too far.”

You looked at him like he had just turned into his name sake. Had he just tried to joke? Today was just filled with firsts, it seemed. And it took you off guard enough for a small chuckle, which you immediately regretted as pain flared through you.

“You should get home and rest,” he said, standing up and he offered you his hand. You decided to take it. Anything to make your life just a little bit easier right now. 

“I was trying to, you know, until you decided that you wanted to talk.” Your tone is lighthearted, making sure that there is no malice within it. He scoffed softly.

Batman walked with you toward the zeta tubes. Which you were sure the others would deem a strange sight if they saw it considering your past with each other. You activated the console and selected your destination. As the machine powered up, you felt his hand on your shoulder, prompting you to look at him.

“Since you’re already involved now, and the way you handled Harley, when you’re fully healed, I want your continued help on my current case.”

“You haven’t told anyone else yet?” 

He shook his head. “I still need some to time to go through everything from the funhouse. Once I’m finished then I’ll inform the rest of the team, but since I involved you first, I thought I would ask for your help before going to anyone else.”

You nodded. You were sure it was taking him a lot to be so open. Hell, even asking for help, again, probably went against everything within him. 

“Yeah, of course. You can count on me.”

*

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[peachinthenight]

My eleven : Jason Todd x fem!reader

Request: Can you do a Jason Todd x reader where the reader doesn’t think she has a chance with Jason because “he’s a 10” and the reader has low self esteem.

Warining: all the typical that comes with Jay: swearing, teasing, bickering, slight innuendo in one sentence

***

„How the hell did I even get here?!”

“Are you having fun, Y/N?!” Steph yelled to her from the other side of the dancefloor. It was Brown’s birthday party and of course all of her friends and family were invited. Poor, shy, introverted Y/N being no exception to that even though she was trying her hardest to come up with any pathetic excuse that ever existed.

But Stephanie was not known for letting people off easily.

And that is how Y/N got here.

Here being the middle of the crowded club, filled with people, most of whom she did not even know. It was like suffocating, but she just put a thumb up and smiled at Stephanie, cause was else was left to do? She was practically dragged here to have fun and enjoy Friday night, damn it.

And more to that, she was forced to wear a dress.

A dress for God’s sake! Most of the time she felt insecure in pants and simple T-shirt so getting dolled up was just too much. Very much too much.

She had to get out. To find just  a little bit of peace and air to breathe, being it in the bathroom or outside or wherever else far from the people.

It took a lot of effort to squeeze between the moving bodies, unnoticed by any of the family members, but Y/N was fast, flexible and extremely sneaky when situation called for so she made it out to the door safely, nearly tripping over her own feet at the very end.

“Damn it!” she hissed exhaling deeply and letting all the frustration out.

“I take it you don’t like it here either?” a deep male voice, seasoned with mockery came from the right side and at first she almost expired, but quickly realized it was just Jason.

Just Jason.

Not that she was having a massive crush on him, for months now.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack you idiot!?”

“Is it working?” he raised an eyebrow at her puffing on the cigarette.

Oh damn it’s working. My heart is definitely beating faster than it’s supposed to.

“NO!” she scoffed

“Whatever you say, princess“ Jason smirked  “but I don’t think you were expecting to see me here”

‘You mean outside or at Steph b-day party?”

“Let’s say both”

“Well, I never took you for a party animal Jace, so….”

“I’ll tell you a secret” he pushed himself off the wall and came closer to Y/N. too close! “I didn’t really come for Brown…..” his gaze focused on her , eyeing her from head to toe and ended flickering between her lips and eyes making the girl choke down. “That;s a really nice outfit, princess….” He muttered and she was suddenly extremely aware of every nerve ending in her body “I guess I’ll see you inside” before she could gasp a single word Jason trampled the butt, smirked at her and disappeared inside.

What the hell just happened?!

Her head was spinning, heart jumping out of her chest, breath becoming uneven

Jason fucking Todd.

Of course he was just making fun of her. There was not a chance he meant what he said as a complement. Not an option that he was interested in her.  He was a  freaking edgelord, trained at intimidating people and bickering.

So why were her cheeks burning like that? Why was there a smile lingering on her lips, wondering that maybe…. Maybe …..

“Hey you!” this time it was female voice throwing her back to reality

“Me?”

“Yes, you.” a tall girl stepped into the light and Y/N could see her face. The other girl was just beautiful.  Her every step showed the confidence and determination. Oh, that one knew what she wanted and how to get it. And y/n had a feeling why she took interest in her.  “How do you know the 10”

“the 10?”

“That guy you were talking to. Don’t you know the scale?”

“Oh, no, please” Y/N whined “why do people feel the urge to judge each other like this? This is just …. Humiliating and freaking objectifying!”

“sorry to break it to you, sunshine, but that’s how the world works. People judge each other. How else would they get together? There are some rules to maintain, and social status is the barrier. Simple as it. Your… friend is a total 10. And so am I.”

“Right…..” as if Y/N didn’t know that. Of course she knew that was how it worked. She was actually painfully aware of that. And familiar with the fact that Jace was most definitely a 10. His ripped body was speaking for itself, and the little scars on his face, including that hated J was only adding to the flame. He was perfect image of a bad boy and it’s no news that most of the girls fall for that. To add to that, Jason was also a perfect mix of many different traits. Rough and sarcastic, but deeply caring. Harsh and violent when it came to enemies, but loving and longing for the one that were close to him. He was keeping his walls up and was wary, but once you gained his trust you get to know him on so many different levels. Y/N knew all that. And it was not easy to see herself in comparison. Boring, average, ordinary girl. She didn’t stand a chance.

“Listen, pidgeon. “ the blonde said, running fingers through her hair, fixing them to look sexier “I’m just saving you heartbreak. Stay in your line. Go back home, change into sweatpants and chat with someone online. That’s more of a place for someone like you. Do you understand me?’

“Oh, fuck you.” y/n muttered  

“Mhm. Someone definitely will do that tonight….” The girl grinned like a predator and followed  Jason inside.  

Y/N had enough. No matter how much this would break Steph heart, no matter how much of a cowardly behavior it was, she was going home. But that meant getting back to the club, grabbing her coat and perhaps seeing something her poor heart could not take.

“Oh fuck it!” she hissed to herself again. “just get yourself together, girl. You knew that one day, sooner or later, he was going to get a hot girl. Just get that shit inside your brain and keep smiling for him. If anyone deserve happiness it definitely Jace.”

If only that little pep talk worked. But no matter how much Y/n tried, her emotions were stronger than her brain. And unfortunately she saw exactly what she was fearing so much. The blonde had already approached Jason, smiling at him innocently, fluttering her eyelashes and talking, talking and talking while he was just listening. After a couple minutes of that show, his face expression changed from curiosity through amusement and then to taunting. And then he laughed at her face.

He laughed at the hot girl.

And then he turned around spotting Y/N with tears in her eyes and became concerned in a blink of an eye, ditching the blonde and rushing towards his friend.

“Let’s get the hell out of here” he mumbled grabbing her small hand, enveloping it in his and simply leading her out.

Y/N should not have felt so good having his attention and care. She shouldn’t have let him do all that. She shouldn't have enjoyed his warm hand holding her and sending heat waves all over her. She should have told him to stay and relax and have fun, to forget about her, but she just couldn’t do any of that. She wanted him. She needed him to ease her pain and soothe her and hold her and to be with her and never, never, never let go. Stupid, selfish silly girl.

“Y/N.” Jason grabbed her chin and forced her to look up at him the second they were back outside.

“Please, don’t ask me who hurt me. Please, don’t use that words ‘cause I will break under the weight of your care.” She thought “care that is not mine for the taking….”

“Who hurt you?” he asked exactly what she was fearing.  And then she truly could not hold it back any longer as her body started shaking and she found herself in his warm, calming, protective embrace, sobbing desperately, unable to form any coherent words, just crying into his chest. “Shhhh. Just tell me. I will make it right, I promise.”

“No….” she sobbed and it made him pull away and look at her.

“What do you mean ‘no’? Y/n/n? What is going on? Whoever made you sad does not deserve to breathe.”

“Jason, please just let go off me. Please, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t let you do this anymore.”

“Do what, love?”

“Stop calling me that” she struggled against him, but he was too strong and kept her close. “Why can’t you see? You’re a 10! I don’t even reach within the scale! You should find yourself the girl in your league! Why can’t you just stick to the rules!”

‘You’re unbelievable.” He chuckled shaking his head “truly unbelievable.”

“Stop making fun out of me! You shouldn’t…. You can’t …..” she hiccupped

“That is really bold of you to start a sentence like this. Telling me what do. But go on, I'm listening carefully.”

“I’m not good enough for you! I’m no one! And you…. you’re you! We’re not supposed to even be seen together! It will ruin your reputation and ….”

“My reputation….” He almost laughed “dammit, love. Are you done?” he locked his hands on her waist and it made her eyes grow wide. Something was terribly wrong here.

“No, I ….”

“Too bad.” He interrupted her, pulling her closer and she immediately put hands on his toned chest to separate their bodies. Grave mistake since feeling all that muscles only made her want him more. Again. “Cause now I will speak and you will listen, baby.”

“Baby?”

“You’re gullible. Self-conscious. Oblivious as fuck. Why? Why can’t you see that I don’t give a damn about should, could, must or mustn’t. I do what I want. Screw the rules, which are fucking stupid by the way. Me being a 10, shit!” now he laughed for real and that wonderful, rare sound made her close her eyes, indulging in this.  “Like I care!”

“But you are! For me!’ it just slipped through her mouth without her thinking “shit, did I say that out loud?”

“I’m glad you did.” He leaned forward a bit, testing the waters, and when she did not pull he back just put his lips onto hers, his grip on her tightening, her hands tangling in his hair. She was making out with him. In front of a public premise. Where everyone could see.

“No…” she pulled back upon realizing what was happening “this is wrong….”

“Stop being stubborn” he muttered resuming kissing her, this time harder, more intensely, that sudden craving of her taking over him. He finally had her without all her inhibitions and doubts. He had her in his arms.

“Jace….?” She asked hesitantly when he cut the kiss and leaned his forehead on hers.    

“You’re right y/n. You don’t fit the scale. Cause sure as fuck you are my 11.”

“But….”

“Oh, no, baby, forget it. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that to you, but I’m not letting you go away from me now that I have you.”

“Is this real?” she mumbled.

“Let’s see about that.” He smirked and kissed her again. And again. And again. Proving that this was not just a crazy dream of a delusional girl, but deep honest feelings on his part.  

He loved her.

[peachinthenight]

✧ ROBERT PATTINSON

HAPPY 37TH BIRTHDAY (May 13, 1986)

[peachinthenight]

[peachinthenight]

dash icons set 001: heejin

made with this psd by andsaintsources! free to use, no credit necessary, reblogs appreciated.

[peachinthenight]

Jason Peter Todd is not a romantic man.

Flowers die too quickly for his liking; most chocolates are far too sweet for his jaded taste buds; he doesn’t see anything significant in anniversaries or birthdays because time doesn’t change the fact that everything eventually comes to an end; declarations of love and devotion don’t mean much to him because he knows how hollow most people’s words are; physical affection, more often than not, makes him feel trapped and restricted.

He is a man made of failures and broken promises, and though the stitching is clumsy and he’s still learning how to wash blood out of cotton, he tries his hardest to make sure he doesn’t fall apart.

Jason Peter Todd will not get down on one knee and declare his undying devotion to you. 

Diamonds are far too expense and rarely worth the effort it takes to obtain one; words don’t mean anything in a world that revolves around who can speak the loudest; there’s no point in planning a future with someone when his own has been ripped out of his hands time and time again; a silver band is nothing more than a signal to let others know he has a reason to be careful now, and that just pushes most people to hit harder.

He would never put you at risk for something as fickle as love, but he hopes to protect you with something as strong as complete as utter trust.

Jason Peter Todd does not believe in fate.

He’s cheated death more times than he can count; gods and goddesses are nothing more than temperamental beings hellbent on protecting their fragile egos; he’s spent his entire life proving people wrong with a smile on his face and a middle finger in the air; he despises those who use stars as an excuse to act poorly.

But every time he looks at you, he knows the universe was kind when it created you and it was merciful when it allowed him to exist in the same reality as you.

Jason Peter Todd is far too emotional for his own good.

His body is covered in reminders of the times he was almost good enough; his temper is as volatile as the Joker toxin itself; he feels most at peace with a gun in his hand and a sense of righteous justice wrapped around his broad shoulders; his voice is booming and bombastic as he yells at whoever he feels crossed a line; he’s spent most of his formative years making sure he’ll never have to depend on another person for a purpose in life.

He has been given every reason to shun love and all of the burdens to come with it, and yet he still finds traces of destiny in the palms of your hands as you hold him.

Jason Peter Todd does not waste his time with conformity or formality.

He became everything the Batman couldn’t be; he spits venom at anyone close enough to feel its burn; his enamel are full of words better left unsaid but refuse to be silenced; his patience is as thin as the trip wire he lays out to trap criminals.

But he can’t deny how easy benevolence pours out of him whenever you’re present. 

Jason Peter Todd is not a romantic man.

But he does buy you your favorite snacks when he notices you’re running low. He fixes your car when he hears that funny knocking noise you’ve been turning up your music to drown out. He places his head in your lap and asks you to read to him, interjecting his own commentary until sleep wraps around him and it’s too hard to keep his eyes open. He allows you to bandage him when he comes home a bloody mess from his latest stunt. He listens to your late night rambles about conspiracy theories and even offers his own in return. He knows how you prefer your coffee in the morning and makes sure you wake up to a pot full of it no matter how late he climbs through your window.

Jason Peter Todd loves in the opposite way he lives—quietly, subtly, gently, soft around the edges and intense at the core, and, most importantly, consistently.

Reblogs/comments are always appreciated! ♡

[peachinthenight]

Jason Peter Todd is not a romantic man.

Flowers die too quickly for his liking; most chocolates are far too sweet for his jaded taste buds; he doesn’t see anything significant in anniversaries or birthdays because time doesn’t change the fact that everything eventually comes to an end; declarations of love and devotion don’t mean much to him because he knows how hollow most people’s words are; physical affection, more often than not, makes him feel trapped and restricted.

He is a man made of failures and broken promises, and though the stitching is clumsy and he’s still learning how to wash blood out of cotton, he tries his hardest to make sure he doesn’t fall apart.

Jason Peter Todd will not get down on one knee and declare his undying devotion to you. 

Diamonds are far too expense and rarely worth the effort it takes to obtain one; words don’t mean anything in a world that revolves around who can speak the loudest; there’s no point in planning a future with someone when his own has been ripped out of his hands time and time again; a silver band is nothing more than a signal to let others know he has a reason to be careful now, and that just pushes most people to hit harder.

He would never put you at risk for something as fickle as love, but he hopes to protect you with something as strong as complete as utter trust.

Jason Peter Todd does not believe in fate.

He’s cheated death more times than he can count; gods and goddesses are nothing more than temperamental beings hellbent on protecting their fragile egos; he’s spent his entire life proving people wrong with a smile on his face and a middle finger in the air; he despises those who use stars as an excuse to act poorly.

But every time he looks at you, he knows the universe was kind when it created you and it was merciful when it allowed him to exist in the same reality as you.

Jason Peter Todd is far too emotional for his own good.

His body is covered in reminders of the times he was almost good enough; his temper is as volatile as the Joker toxin itself; he feels most at peace with a gun in his hand and a sense of righteous justice wrapped around his broad shoulders; his voice is booming and bombastic as he yells at whoever he feels crossed a line; he’s spent most of his formative years making sure he’ll never have to depend on another person for a purpose in life.

He has been given every reason to shun love and all of the burdens to come with it, and yet he still finds traces of destiny in the palms of your hands as you hold him.

Jason Peter Todd does not waste his time with conformity or formality.

He became everything the Batman couldn’t be; he spits venom at anyone close enough to feel its burn; his enamel are full of words better left unsaid but refuse to be silenced; his patience is as thin as the trip wire he lays out to trap criminals.

But he can’t deny how easy benevolence pours out of him whenever you’re present. 

Jason Peter Todd is not a romantic man.

But he does buy you your favorite snacks when he notices you’re running low. He fixes your car when he hears that funny knocking noise you’ve been turning up your music to drown out. He places his head in your lap and asks you to read to him, interjecting his own commentary until sleep wraps around him and it’s too hard to keep his eyes open. He allows you to bandage him when he comes home a bloody mess from his latest stunt. He listens to your late night rambles about conspiracy theories and even offers his own in return. He knows how you prefer your coffee in the morning and makes sure you wake up to a pot full of it no matter how late he climbs through your window.

Jason Peter Todd loves in the opposite way he lives—quietly, subtly, gently, soft around the edges and intense at the core, and, most importantly, consistently.

Reblogs/comments are always appreciated! ♡

[peachinthenight]

O Me! O Life! // J.Todd x gn!reader

Requested? Yes!

Warnings: scars, non-sexual nudity, mention of what the Joker did to Jason

Summary: He hates the scars on his back and avoids seeing them any chance he gets. He slips up one day, but you’re there to assure him.

* - denotes lines from O Me! O Life! by Walt Whitman (my fave poem thank u for asking)

The thing about scars is that it’s easy to forget that they’re there sometimes. The raised white pucker along his jaw from a knife disappeared under his five o’clock shadow. The pinched circles of healed bullet holes changed shape when he flexed. But these scars…there was no mistaking it.

Ugly gouges only healed by the Lazarus pit marred his back. He hated looking at them the few times he turned his head when his back was to the mirror. It was as if he was back in that fucking werehouse with the fucking clown and that fucking crowbar.

Today was one of those days where the Gotham humidity felt like a fucking wet blanket smacking you in the face the second you stepped out the door. Sweat practically draped his shirt along his skin as he went for a morning run and by god, the only thing he wanted to do when he got home was take a shower.

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