#ghoul. interrupted

[gunkbaby]

[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Just Alpha and Ifrit sparring. They're both shirtless, Ifrit in those fuckass tiny Ghost shorts you know which ones, Alpha in grey sweatpants, both all sweaty and all up in each other's space, grunting as they roll around. Grinning like maniac even as they sport bruises and split lips. Maybe there's a bit of blood trickling down Ifrit's face, dripping on his torso, some staining Alpha's teeth as well. Their hair messed up, tangled, sticking to the nape of their necks. Throwing each other around until they devolve into what starts as agressively shoving their tongues down each other's throat but ends up being a long, lazy making out session.

[toiletpudding]

@munchonbrows Your pookies 🫶

[lemonemlyn]

[thesunhatesme]

Do the ghouls cough up hairballs like cats and is there an assigned bin for them??

[ramblngz-of-a-lunatic]

Girlhood

[maddymoreau]

Fallout New Vegas is the gift that keeps on giving. Every day I discover something new about it.

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

if im giving dracgoona two plushie babies, and clankie a kid bug swarm....

then spawdeen can have

Hank

[applejuicemania]

It's a scrapped scene of a story that I've been trying to write, but I like it too much to simply throw away. (￣▽￣;)

For context; them murder boys were sent to an AU during lunch rush by hence the Blob[tm] reject known as their boss. It is literally just a character introduction, I just didn't set the tone right.

warning; one (1) cuss word

"...Seems like a good place to start."

Bane chirped a sharp whistle, a jagged grin like a dagger wide set on his rounded skull. He stood with the arrogant confidence of a middle school teenager that has managed to obtain a kiss from someone other than his mother, with fisted-hands firm on his hips and a dramatic chin jut. What a cute, charming boy, many would suspect, and by attitude and lithe statue alone you would be correct to assume — until he would whine a petulant 'but I'm twenty-eight!' in a very grown-up manner, of course.

Bane couldn't stay long in his main-protagonist pose, his body demanded the constant movement as if it would combust if stayed still a little too long. His hands flung in a spectacular coordination, his target-esque Soul bumbling, "It's like, rush hour right now so there's a lot of folk out n' about. A lot'a negativities and whatever, so—"

Ghoul, Bane's smaller than small brother in arms, hummed in absentminded agreement, their gaze steadfast into the distance of a busy intersection. Perhaps not as boyish or overly confident as his fellow skeleton companion, they were of the tranquil, patient sort that watched for drama rather than create it. If gifted with a different appearance than the mangled, dog-torn one they bore, they would blend into the background like the weeds between the sidewalk. They swayed idly on the balls of their feet and fiddled with a fraying drawstring of their threadbare jacket, the picture of someone with an empty skull — pun fully intended.

Ghoul continued to pay no heed to Bane, who continued in his comical charade, complete with some sort of jazz hand-tap dance combo of a bizarre notion — yet the same could not be said to the third member of the trio of loitering idiots.

"Bane." Called the jolly-good murder twig, heteromantic red-blue eyelights glaring from his sockets like a 3-D glasses reject with a growing, exhausted irritation. "Bane — shut up. shut the fuck up."

Ruin was as thin as he was tall, which was very, and he would look to be an even six foot height if he found the energy to straighten his usual lazy slouch. In a way, he looked like a delusional madman that you would find under the bridge, the figurative troll that would eat you if you didn't answer his riddle. Face obscured in a constant shadow, it was uncertain if it was his magic or his too-small hood to cast the mask; it was a deterrent all the same, hidden away securely and immensely terrifying. His flat teeth gnashed and grinded, noticeable only by the crack! his jaw creaked, and really you ought to wonder if it is the irritation getting to his temper or rather the sins that constantly claw up his spine.

To the ominous glare thrown his way, Bane was nonplussed. Nonchalant, cool as a cucumber as you could say. As if in mockery, he paused a moment, empty sockets staring blankly dead ahead and body frozen statuesque — but, well, "Anyways! I think it'll be real cool if we—"

The tallest skeleton huffed and shrunk a bit further into his shoulders, biting back a groan of annoyance. His fuzzy-gloved hands digged further into his basketball short's pockets, searching for refuge or maybe better, a knife. Ruin thought he might've succeeded in collecting the latter and might've indulged on an impulse, if not for the quiet tug.

At the end of Ruin's jacket sleeve, bunched at his elbow crook, Ghoul looked up with a knowing, unblinking eye. From the angle, Ruin could see the vivid gleam of their swollen, determination-red eye escaping the fist-sized hole at the top of their skull, shimmering from the spider-webbing cracks. The implications of it halted Ruin, treating the flare of light as a warning, because if he didn't — the consequences would be worse than the pleasure.

With a benign, comforting pat, Ghoul redirected their long stare elsewhere, and with the gaze removed, Ruin released a breath he didn’t know he held. Misshapen, burnt and gnawed and torn apart, hands rose, redirecting the attention of Ghoul’s compadres enough for him to sign a message: [y’all. start mission, now. is twelve noon.]

[gunkbaby]

Girl whose only defining personality trait is ‘Big Shuu Tsukiyama Fan!!!!’

[knifeslidez]

god i need a new job

[fvntasmic]

seafoam-colored eyes shoot her a familiar glare, followed by, of course, a smart-ass reply. dark eyes roll in response; it's no surprise that a slight bitterness follows even with their small talk. though it's not the same bitterness they usually associate themselves with, there's a lightness to it. "I didn't know you could read, mads." madeline teases. she wonders if it's the worn-out copy of The Great Gatsby he keeps with him or if something new piques his interest. before she could even ask, madison broke her thought. "the girl next door?" madeline repeated, raising a brow in his direction. "and what exactly does sound like the girl next door to you?"

"my god, you're right. - you're interrupting ghouling hour, madeline." he shoots her a glare over the brim of his coffee cup as it meets his lips to take another sip. he then placed the cup back on the counter, propping up against it himself with arms crossing against his chest. he thought it was rather odd that they could have a small talk conversation, apart from their usual bitterness. "nothing more than finishing up a novel i've been reading." he shrugs his shoulders in return. "i'm curious - a night in doesn't sound like the girl next door to me." he smirks at that.

[nightingale-prompts]

Ghost Diet-DCxDP prompt

Ghosts and spirits have a wide-ranging diet. They are mostly ectovores which are found in their main habitat. They are highly cannibalistic because the concentrated/processed ectoplasm that is in other ghosts is better from them. Although they eat one another they don't kill each other because they don't eat the cores of other ghosts but do weaken them. The eaten ghosts then have to build up their strength again to reform and gain back their lost ectoplasm. This creates a food chain where the strongest ghost consumes the weaker until they too are consumed.

This isn't always the case of course. While ectoplasm is a substance they can all consume they can easily supplement it with other foods. In fact, the ghost realm has a cornucopia of foods that they cultivate. These food however are not very friendly to mortals.

Danny often brings delicacies back from the ghost zone.

Ghoul Gelato from Frostbite: Ice cream infused with the essence of moonlight and frost.

Spirit Spritz from Ember: A fizzy drink made from ectoplasm and tears of joy.

Ectoplasm Eclairs from Desriee: Pastries filled with glowing, gooey ectoplasm.

Phantom Pudding is a special dish made by Nocturne: A shimmering, translucent dessert that tastes like forgotten memories.

Danny often eats them at lunch.

He ended up bumping into Tim between classes and sitting to eat with him when Dick had to drop Damian off for "Family Bonding" time.

So they ate lunch together. Which was awkward because Danny and Tim were kinda...you know having a moment and having a kid here was ruining it. Especially a very scary-looking one that looks like he bites.

Danny had a bag of gummies he had gotten from Jazz on the way out of the house. Danny had assumed it was safe and offered it to Damian as a peace offering since he wanted Tim's family to like him.

But those were Graveyard Gummies. A special tombstone-shaped treat that was similar to gushers but filled with ectoplasm. Jazz must have gone on a grocery run (yes they do have a grocery store in the ghost zone. You'd be surprised how normal some spaces there are) to stock up on snacks for the family. Dan and Dani also need their ghost foods.

Danny realized way too late when Damian actually tried the ecto gummies what he had done. But instead of Damian spitting out the acidic death fluid or...dying, the kid liked it. Loved it even.

"Where did you get these?" Damian said interrupting whatever Tim was saying.

"Oh...uh my sister got them."

"What are you so excited about? Let me try one." Tim reached for the bag only for Damian to smack his hand away.

"Get your own. Did you see Fenton give it to me?"

Danny had a bad feeling about this.

[lustlovehart]

Not a request. Are there any concerns with mh!mc having to delegate their affections with the many monsters lest jealousy and fighting commence? (Also your Skully posts were very cute and your Fellow was terrifying ty with love ❤️)

Jealousy Among Fiends

A/n: LMAO ik it wasn’t a request, and originally I was only supposed to reply with the first part, but then I had the funny image of Riddle glaring at fish and had to elaborate more! And ahhh, thank you for the Skully and Fellow appreciation!! After their events I really fell in love with them (≧◡≦) ♡

Pairings: [Monster!Twst] Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil, Idia, Malleus, Rollo, Skully x Reader

Warnings: Possesion/Obsession, Slightly Suggestive, Jealousy, Marking, Minor character murder, Violence, Reader says something both mean and truthful

Ahahahahaha, definitely. Jealousy mostly happens within their areas. I discussed in this post about inter-sharing! But, it’s very difficult to settle these debates about your affection, while some are dealt with more calmly, there are certain grounds, or rather monsters, who are much harder to settle down. *Cough Octavinelle. In that particular dorm, if you’re not shared, expect for one one-on-one time to always coincidentally be interrupted. Even then, if it is shared, it’s always split because someone wants more time, leading to an endless cycle.

Meanwhile, all together…

While the majority of the cast is stuck in their respective haunting grounds, word does travel, and there are always lower, weaker monsters who gossip about different events. While, unlike canon where they all know each other, in Monster!twst, they hear rumors and vague communications with the other monsters. So while they don’t know each other as well, they have occasionally come across each other and drew their conclusions from gossip and their small moments of interaction.

Riddle’s in the process of consuming a new victim before his meal is interrupted by small harpies and their songs. They tend to fly over from Pomefiore. He’s told them several times to leave before they’re executed and he displays their heads as warnings. But, then he hears them sing a description that sounds a lot like you, and he halts himself from scaring them off.

“Yes, Yes! They were marked in bites and suction cups! Quite promiscious...“

“Even shouted at the perpatrators! ’Azul! Now I look covered in spots! Floyd... Quit biting me all the time! Jade, quit wrapping me in your tail! Are those three courting them—!?“

The creatures stop flying in circles, squeaking in fear at the ghost who floats between them, the all-famed Crimson Ghoul.

“Those three... did what?“ there’s a tinge of both anger, jealousy, and sadness in his tone. All much more terrifying at the chill the shoots down their spine. They’re swift to fly away.

When Riddle floats past Ace and Deuce, they’re about to have him settle the argument they’re currently having, but shut themselves up when they see how deep he glows scarlet.

Afterstory: Trey has Cater intercept Riddles's path, as nobody but him can stop the tyrant in his wispy form. When they finally reign him in from his bloody rampage, they’re not quite sure what it is that led to his state. Their questions only further when they spy Riddle waiting at the river near Heartslaybul, a horrifying scowl on his face every time marine life passes.

You would be all the way in Pomefiores haunted mansion when Leona overhears shadow imps whisper. He doesn’t care at first, but then he hears your name, and his ears perk up immediately.

“Did you see how close that Incubus’s lips were to their mouth?! They were practically an inch away from tonguing each other, ewww!”

“I know right?! They must’ve been practicing a... What was it...? Oh! Honeymoon! They looked so deeply into each other's eyes it was intense— eww maybe they’re doing that human thing where they dance in bed—“

The inferior beasts silently scream as their small bodies slowly fade into the sand, a painfully slow death approaching. Leona leans back into his throne, his tail flicking up, the blurry image of your face drawing itself into the sand.

Green eyes glow underneath the bandages that cover his face. The pretty sight is sullied by the appearance of smooth skin and horns smiling in your presence while his wings wrap around you.

He’s quick to stomp on his face.

... It’ll be fine if he leaves his tomb for a while. Especially if he can return with a pair of Incubus wings to display in his treasury.

Afterstory: Leona’s planned voyage is stopped by a struggling Ruggie who does not need his king fighting a very popular one-night stand simply because he almost kissed you. (He would go with him if it weren’t for the fact he doesn’t want Vil showing up to his favorite village and seducing all of them. If they move away from there and go to Vils house... How’s he gonna steal food from them??. )

It’s a bit harder for gossip to reach Azul, as his natural giant size, has him dwell much deeper in the depths than others. But when it does, it’s over for any sailors, fish, mermaids, and any living thing in or on the water. Giant tentacles will reach from the dark and take hold of any possible creature available. He can’t cry in water, but he can surely kill in water.

He first hears this talk when he’s grabbing hold of a ship, the sirens above laughing at the crew while they rest on a rock.

“Ah, they’re just as funny as that hunter everyone seems so obsessed with!“

“Oh my, What’s the drama there?“

“That Ghostly Tyrant from Heartslaybul, Riddle? Yeah, those two were caught sleeping in the same bed, practicall, they looked at each other so lovingly! They even tucked his hair back like a lover! It’s hillarious— Ah?!“

Before the sirens know it, their tails are seized by another tentacle, dragging them to the same depths those sailors are heading to. Azuls eyes glare at them before they enter his mouth.

...

Talk about the Ocatvinelle waters growing red and dangerous only grow with each passing day. Sometimes, even the shore is no longer safe, as there was talk of a giant tentacle grabbing people on the sands they’re meant to be safe on.

Azul appears from the water in his smaller form, ivory hair covered in crimson as tentacles shift to legs. He’s in a dazed state when he emerges, groggily taking a step forward.

... Perhaps, he should pay a visit to this hospital. When he’s done, he won’t be the one who needs healing though. He hysterically laughs, clutching his chest while imagining himself saving you from that asylum.

Afterstory: In his state, he’s more like a Zombie rather than a Slime-Kraken. The only thing that stops him from successfully reaching Riddle, is your sudden appearance. He regains awareness in his state, panicking when he notices how unkempt he is for you! Surely you think he’s pathetic now! He calms down when he feels your hand bring his face to yours, worriedly asking if he’s okay. You’re the only thing that halts him from rampaging that poor hospital... Luckily you were there.

Jamil first hears about such an intimate situation from… well, the culprit himself. He’s unsure if he should even be mad though, being angered by this certain… reaper, seems a bit disappointing. So, he just ignores his incessant murmurs, turning his tail and slithering away.

Idia mumbles with each swing of his scythe, reaping unfortunate souls who find part of themselves in Jamil's stomach. Just his regular job. He started disinterested with the dozens of bodies, complaining about how he could be in his own realm. But then he pauses, as the tips of his hair start turning pink. Before he knows it, the entirety of his head is flamed in a bright rose

“You know…” he talks to the corpses like they’re living humans to gossip with. He laughs deeply, “They put my head in their lap…” Jamil pauses in the dark hallway, slitted pupils turning to look toward the cloaked figure. “That’s a sign, right? They like me— Oh wait, what if it’s a human plot…! They’re gonna lure me in and murder me… I don’t know if that’s possible though…” Jamil sighs at his rambles, he should’ve known it was just the reaper being himself. “Ugh…! That’s probably it…! They have all those beasts after them too, I mean, half of them are known to be attractive for the sake of getting their food…! I can’t compete…” Jamil is back to returning to Kalims side. Idia is not someone to worry about when it comes to you.

Jamil looks down at the golden cuff on his wrist, his scales hidden on the skin trapped by the bracelet. You have a matching one, one that covers his mark on your skin. He really shouldn’t be worried about a reaper who doesn’t wanna do his job—

“But then again… do those guys get kissed on the cheek by them too…?”

The sound of hissing makes Idia jump, Jamil's slitted eyes glowing in the dark as he slowly moves his way toward the reaper. With a scream, Idia takes hold of his hoodie, turning swiftly before fading into the air.

Afterstory: The disappearance of travelers in Scarabia sands has only increased, leading to suspicion from villages, even you. In your worry about the snake's actions, you head immediately to them. To your disappointment, each missing case was indeed found there… As well as a diligently hunting Jamil, who waits eagerly in the corner for… something. You hear him whisper Idia’s name before turning around and leaving. That is not something you wish to pry into. You spend the rest of your time with Kalim, which honestly, might’ve made matters even worse.

Vil has seen multitudes of people and their pleasures, so whenever a meal of his is indulging in someone else, he really doesn’t care. Until it’s you. It seems, he forgot that you have other fiends in your proximity, who aren’t as hideous as most monsters are. He’s reminded about this unfortunate circumstance when he passes a pair of succubi, eagerly gossiping about the notorious, Mummy King of Savanaclaw.

“That man really is handsome. It’s too bad he’s already dead… I would’ve loved consuming his vitality!”

“Doesn’t matter to me if he’s dead! Though, he’s very smitten with that Monster Hunter… I heard one of the imps saw him pull them on top! Even wrapped them with his bandages… A scandalous sight of that human on his lap and marked, is truly—“ they’re quick to quiet down when the feeling of twin tails wrap around their throat, and a heavenly scent invades their nostrils, very different to the devil behind them.

He knows he’s imagining it, but Vil’s eye twitches when the smell of dust and decay is located, a further reminder of the current man of topic.

“I’m sorry, Leona… Did hm?” The pleasant smile on his face would’ve successfully cloaked his malice if it weren’t for the fact his tails were suffocating the fellow seducers. Once they answer him, he allows their bodies to drop, his heels clicking against the tile as he walks away. A single flap and door opens for him, one that appears in front of you as well.

“Vil…? What’re you doing here?”

“Making sure you don’t fall for that cretin.”

Afterstory: Vil appears before you, his face close to yours as he questions you. He’ll interview you on very intimate details, like what you want, what you desire, and what kind of qualities you wish for in a lover. Whether you answer him or not doesn’t matter, it’ll all end on the same final question. “Does Leona Kingscholar fulfill that for you?” be careful how you answer that, it’ll end with either Vil scooping you in his arms and finding the nearest private room, or… A visit to Leona’s tomb that ends with dust and decay.

Idia is a bit of a wildcard… his Jealousy either ends in him babbling into your neck about how much better those other guys are, or a visit to their grounds planting numerous death traps in hopes of collecting their souls sooner. The faster they’re out of life itself, the faster they’re out of yours specifically! And, he can do that simply because death isn’t something that constricts him like it does them.

Idia finally crawls out of the underworld, begrudgingly, as the reports of multiple corpses were reported, needing to be guided to the afterlife. When he arrives there, he tenses at the immediate recognition.

It’s Scarabia.

His mouth falls agape at the location, realizing the chances of this being an obvious ploy from that snake are very high. He’s swinging his scythe up and over his shoulder at a speed he’s never done before, the faster he’s gone, the less probability of seeing Jamil lunging at him.

He can feel phantom sweat accumulating on his forehead. While not truly there, he can imagine it, and that’s enough exertion for the day.

“Get out… Get out…!” he whispers to himself, urgency in his voice while he opens his exit for the new spirits. He stops when he notices a comforting sight in the corner of his eye.

It’s you!

… It’s you.

In Scarabia, wrapped in Jamil’s tail. Your finger on his fangs while you closely gather his venom, inches apart from each other.

…

The recently departed have a very awkward journey to the afterlife. Their guide isn’t silent and mysterious… He’s silent and gloomy.

Afterstory: Jamil sees a multitude of death traps in his domain. After your visit, he can’t seem to go 5 minutes without something attempting to send him to the afterlife. Seriously, where the hell is this coming from?! Then for a moment, he sees a flicker of a blue flame around the corner, laughing behind his hand before disappearing…

Jealousy is a weak beast's trait, it’s what Lilia taught him. So, he must not feel so entitled to things, lest he get carried away. Despite those teachings, Malleus still falls as easy prey to the feeling of envy, especially when it comes to you.

His case of jealousy is something different from everyone else’s. Not only were you the one who told him yourself, but it’s also not a recent event. So truly, he shouldn’t be envious at all but…

“It’s really funny actually, I called Rollo my husband so often, townspeople actually believed we were married!”

… He can’t help but allow the storms to sky with lightning at the knowledge, that there are people in this world who believe you’re married to anyone but him.

“I see…”

“We also have matching earrings, so that really didn’t help our case…”

“I see…”

“Even Crewel and Trein were approving of how often we were together, can’t say the same about Crowley though…”

“I see…” He jumps forward at the feeling of you smacking his stone horns forward. When he turns to face you, he notices the annoyance and your face and quickly frowns.

“Can you stop with the lightning Malleus.”

“Oh, forgive me.” He snaps his fingers at the sky lightning dissipating. But the clouds in the sky remain. You both stay in silence, awaiting the other to make a move in the moment. “So then, what is he to you, Child of Hunters?”

The silence you give him does not bode well, thunder coming back into the atmosphere. Answer anything but that, and he’ll be okay.

“… Someone I…” the way he stares at the ground but not at you, for once, is a telling sign of his current affliction. “… Won’t tell you about.” Your answer does not satisfy him, for it signifies there is something to tell, which is not what he wants.

The feeling of your head laying on his shoulder finally disturbs his moment of brooding, his moss-covered features turning to look at you.

“Rollo, is much to me. You’re a monster. You’re all monsters.” He doesn’t like where this is going. “And I hate it. But, it’s disappointing that you’re all something to me too.”… A pang in his a heart that shouldn’t be there at all, is felt.

He doesn’t know whether that something you consider all of them as, is good or bad. But, perhaps it’s better not to know.

Afterstory: You’ve fallen asleep on his shoulder. Typically, he’d be over the moon at this advancement, especially since his body isn’t the classic material you’d wish to lay on. Yet, he feels a bit empty at the conversation. They’re all something to you, just as Rollo is. Yet, they’re different in your eyes. He gets the basic understanding but still doesn’t truly understand. Which is an issue, because his solution to this is to just make everyone else into nothing so then he can be your only something. Starting with Rollo.

Rollo is the worst case of jealousy among all of them. To be fair, his jealousy was still there when you were with him, always glaring at any suitors who attempted to court you. But now, even as he’s miles of land and sea apart from you, it has only gotten worse.

He comes across these rumors when he’s tending to his plants, taking greater care of your particular favorites in his garden. At first, when he sees the miniature devils, he sighs and pulls out his dagger with ease, ready to hunt them on the spot.

“Did you see that Draconia Gargoyle? Him and that hunter were on a dateee, Ahahaha! Grosss, they’re gonna kiss and get moss cooties!”

“Hahaha!!! And that old stone’s talkin’ about marriage!! Ring and everything!! Doesn’t he know a statue can’t marry a human?! Haha— Ha…?”

The two little demons stop their gossip when the feeling of impending doom looms over their tiny bodies. Before they can run away, a blade swiftly falls down on their tails, halting any chance of escape.

“That… Thing, did what with them?” Rollo’s naturally soft voice comes out strained in his inquiry, a testament to the current emotion he displays. The two of them shake their heads, tiny voices trying their hardest to make it seem like a joke. “It doesn’t matter. What was he doing to them? Did he really take them out on a date? Did he… really touch them?”

The little demons shiver in horror at the way it seems like his eyes turn in despair.

“… If he did, then there is no room for forgiveness.”

They both pause at this familiar phrase. There’s no way…

“You’re Rollo—!”

…

Rollo spread the ashes into his soil, delicately mixing the compound into one. The gentle smile on his face is entirely unlike the man he was a few minutes prior.

“A few less demons for your cruel world,” he waters the plants, his finger lifting a single leaf, “Don’t fret (Name), I will burn every one of them down if it means your smile lasts forever.” Rollo’s head turns up to feel the sun on his pale skin.

…

The light is blocked by a decaying gargoyle.

…

He’s leaving Sages Quarter, weapon in hand and ready to destroy every monster and gargoyle he sees.

Afterstory: The only way to stop Rollo’s current plan to end all monster lineages, is by reminding him that you would hate him for the rest of all time. He’s essentially stuck between the idea of protecting you and having you despise him for the rest of time, or not and letting you be seduced by these heinous creatures. Which is why it’s Crowley’s go-to plan when confronting him! “If you do it, they’ll never love you again! Bye-bye to work husband!” He immediately sits down. But with each day, this thread of patience continues to tear, until he eventually breaks.

Skully, is… a sad type of jealous. He really does wish to respect your wishes! But everytime he sees you the overwhelming urge to just kiss each part of your skin with his lips consumes him. However, it halts when he seems someone else has the same mutual feeling.

“… What’s that?”

His bony finger will travel over an empty patch of skin, but the way he pouts makes it seem like there’s something there.

“Uhm… My cheek?”

“No, the thing on it…”

You hand traces over the spot, not feeling any change in texture, neither do you remember anything on your face prior. So… what exactly is he talking about?

“Skully I’m not too sure—“ you’re interrupted by the feeling of his thumb aggressively wiping the spot clean. Then, his lips on your face, his expression in full view when he comes back to.

“There, better.” You don’t have the chance to question him before his lithe body is twirling you around in a ball room esque dance. For a moment he pauses the pirouette you’re in to quickly pluck something out of your hair. “Now, it’s really better. You’re truly perfect.”

He’s back to his romantic escapades once more afterwards.

It’s only when he’s sleeping peacefully in your lap, the bony spider legs on his back limp, do you notice what he did. The clearing in the forest you just danced in, reflects a single white feather on the floor.

You finally connect the dots. The spot he kissed on your cheek was the exact place Neige placed one on as well. No wonder he was so thorugh on scrubbing your skin…

Be careful if you fall asleep while he’s on your lap. In reality, he’s only closing his eyes so he can savor the moment to its fullest! The moment you fall prey to slumber though, he’s up looking over the places Neige left any marks on, and covering them with his own affections. Any place he had a feather hidden, he’ll cover it with his own prettily weaved web!

Only the best for you.

Afterstory: He was able to successfully mask his sadness at this mark this first time. But, if you come back to him again marked up like that, he doesn’t know if he can do it again… So please don’t enter his web with the mark of an angel! Why do you need that when you’re already one! He thinks you should just throw that angel away…

A/n: Once again, Ik this wasn’t a request, but I couldn’t help myself (≧◡≦) ♡

[ramblngz-of-a-lunatic]

[rambling-at-midnight]

Second Chances

Summary: It’s not common knowledge that you have a superpower: regeneration. You didn’t think that would be a problem... Jason and Damian think otherwise.

Relationships: Jason Todd x Vigilante!Reader, Damian Wayne & Jason Todd & Reader (platonic because they’re brothers duh)

DAMIAN WAYNE IS MY SON I LOVE HIM SO MUCH (I just watched the Supersons movie he makes me smile so hard)

Word Count: 4.8k

Content warning for temporary character death. Reader’s vigilante name is Ghoul, BTW.

Jason is in the shower when he hears someone break into his apartment.

He groans, makes sure all the shampoo is rinsed out of his hair, then grabs the knife mounted to his curtain rod. It’s not the first time someone has attacked him in the shower, and it probably won’t be the last. Still, Jason wishes they would at least give him time to grab a towel. It’s just as uncomfortable for him as it is for them.

This time, they actually do. Maybe they’re going to be polite enough to wait for him to finish cleaning all of Gotham’s sludge off his body. Jason would appreciate the sentiment more if the upcoming fight wouldn’t immediately dirty his body again with their blood.

He doesn’t turn off the shower when he steps out, dries his feet on the bath mat. He’s reaching for his towel when he hears one of the intruders say something.

He recognizes that voice.

Jason sticks his head out of the bathroom and glowers. “What are you doing here, brat?”

Damian Wayne, one of Bruce Wayne’s many children and the current Robin, scowls right back. “Why is your shower still running, Todd? Do you not care for conservation efforts? There are people in Michigan who would—”

“Okay, Dami,” interrupts another voice.

Jason’s whole body flushes. He makes sure every part of him except his face is hidden behind the door when a second person comes into view.

Your vigilante costume is zipped halfway, the top pulled down and sleeves tied around your waist, exposing the compression shirt with kevlar-like weave you wore beneath it. A large bandage is wrapped around your upper arm, growing redder by the second.

“Hi, Y/N,” Jason says. Does he sound too excited? Does he not sound excited enough?

You just smile. “Hey, Jace. Sorry, we came by for first aid supplies. We’ll be out of your hair in just a sec.”

“No, don’t rush on my account,” Jason says. Does he sound too desperate? “Just give me a—”

He ducks back into the bathroom to turn off the shower after making sure he’s clean and one hundred percent soap-free. Not expecting company, he’d only brought a pair of boxers and military-style shorts in with him. Rushing, hoping you don’t leave before he gets out (Damian can leave, though) he pulls both on and slams the door open.

It hits the wall so hard it rebounds back into Jason’s hand. You jump at the sound, nearly poking Damian with the needle in your hand.

“Watch it, idiot!” Damian snaps. To Jason, he says, “You just dented your wall. Moron.”

“Don’t talk to them like that,” Jason says sternly. God, he knows why the brat is so prickly, but he still got on Jason’s last nerves. He checks the wall, hoping the brat exaggerated, but nope. Another dent to match the nicks, scrapes, and bullet holes that already littered his apartment.

He is never getting back his security deposit.

You’re about to stitch up a cut on Damian’s arm when Jason clucks his tongue. “That doesn’t look good.” The bandage around your arm is sodden with blood.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” you say dismissively. “Ready, Dami?”

Interestingly enough, the brat doesn’t tell you off for giving him a nickname. It seems to be a privilege reserved exclusively for you and Dick; every time Jason tries, he’s vehemently told off.

Then again, his nicknames are usually derogatory. That might contribute to it a little bit.

Damian sets his jaw and you stitch him up quickly, murmuring, “I’m sorry,” every time his fingers twitch—the only indication of pain he’ll show. Jason eyes the bandage around your arm with worry, but the blood stain doesn’t grow any more in the interim.

As soon as you tie off the thread, Damian hops to his feet and scurries for the bathroom. You start to get up, brow pinched with worry, but Jason says, “Let me look at your arm.”

Your eyes take a while to slide from the shut bathroom door to Jason’s face, but then you say, “Yeah, okay,” and sink back into your chair.

To distract you as he unpeels the sticky bandage from your arm, Jason asks, “So you’re on babysitting duty now, huh?”

“Oh, no, Damian and I patrol together every Friday night.” You use finger quotes with the other hand and say, “B think it ‘promotes more accountability’ when someone gets injured during patrol if they have a partner.”

Jason frowns at the sight of the cut. It’s obviously from a knife, and not pretty, exactly, but also not big enough to let out as much blood as soaked through the bandage. “Who did this to you?”

“Just a typical goon. It’s really not a big deal.” Your eyes follow Jason’s gaze. “I guess it bled a lot, huh? Like a head wound. You know, disproportionate.” You tug your sleeve over the wound.

“Y/N is not as weak as the rest of you,” Damian sneers, having vacated the bathroom on silent feet. You jump, and so does Jason, even though he has Batman-honed instincts.

There’s just something intoxicating about your presence. You’re… distracting.

It was manageable back before Jason was Robin and you were one of his classmates. You were obsessed with Batman and crimefighting, and Jason was a bookworm, so your friendship shouldn’t have worked, but it did.

Then, ironically, Bruce Wayne adopted him and Jason became the crimefighter. He never told you about his identity to protect Bruce’s, but you figured it out when he died.

Then he came back to Gotham, hellbent on revenge, and burned every bridge he’d ever built. Including the one with you.

Jason still could barely believe you give him the time of day after all the awful things he’d said and done. But you’re just as obsessed with redemption and forgiveness as Bruce, and he will never take that for granted.

His fascination with you was manageable before Jason died, but it’s downright consuming now.

Jason can’t believe how you’d grown up to be so… so flat-out amazing. Graceful, and maybe not as skilled at hand-to-hand as the rest of Gotham’s vigilantes, but you adapt with a long-range fighting style. You’re strong, and self-assured, and really, seriously gorgeous.

Jason realizes his hand is still on your arm, touching the soft skin, and he yanks it away as if burnt. He doesn’t understand how you remain so scar-free despite years of crimefighting, and he’s abruptly self-conscious about the marks that litter his torso, arms, and legs. Your eyes roam over them, lingering on his chest and stomach

He’s most self-conscious about the jagged ‘J’ carved into his cheek, and Jason tries to cover it with his hand without drawing attention. That doesn’t work—he looks like a weirdo waving his hands around—so he tilts his cheek away so you don’t have to see it anymore.

You clear your throat and look away, as if embarrassed for some reason.

Damian’s gaze pingpongs between the two of you before he rolls his eyes, sighing dramatically. “Are you two finished?”

You push away from the table and make a grabby hand. Damian rolls his eyes again, but he sidles closer, and you check his stitched cut. Your thumb rubs over the raised line of stitches like you’re trying to wipe his pain away.

Jason realizes he’s staring at the bottom lip you’re jutting out in sympathy. He flushes again.

After everything he did, he can’t expect anything more than friendship from you. If that’s what you’re willing to give, he’ll never push for more.

“I am fine, Y/N,” Damian said, pushing your hand away, albeit gently. A hint of whine entered his voice and Jason blinked. It wasn’t often that he heard Damian sound like an actual kid. “Can we resume patrol now?”

“Wait,” Jason hears someone say, and it’s—him, he’s the one saying it. “Are you hungry? I have a casserole in the oven.”

Damian snorts. “My apologies. I did not know you had adopted the personality of a middle-aged white wom—”

You cover Damian’s mouth with your hand and say, “That sounds great, Jay. Thanks.”

Jason’s greedy. He’ll take whatever scraps he can get from you.

The three of you eat, the conversation pleasant whenever Damian isn’t threatening Jason because Jason taunted him. You laugh as they bicker, used to the antics of Gotham’s vigilantes by now.

Once everyone is done, it’s just about time for the Red Hood to start his patrol, so with a little cajoling from you, Damian agrees to let Jason tag along until your patrol ends. Jason suits up, and you lead the charge out of his apartment window, followed by Damian. Jason is last out, stopping briefly to make sure the window latches before stepping off the fire escape.

The sensation of his stomach rising is familiar from so many years of grappling through the city, but no less exhilarating. He follows your and Robin’s flipping shapes as the two of you tear through the city. The bright primary color accents on Robin’s suit and the pale gray color of your own shouldn’t blend in so well with Gotham’s shadows, but you and Damian manage pretty well. It turns into kind of a game of tag, and whenever he gets close enough, you grin and twist away, muffling laughter behind one hand.

He could definitely catch you, but he thinks you’re enjoying the game of cat-and-mouse just as much as he, if not more.

Jason’s just thinking to himself that there’s not much crime tonight when the Batsignal lights up the sky.

“Way to ruin the mood,” he grumbles. The game is over. The three of you grapple toward the giant light without any more flipping or laughter.

Jim Gordon obviously isn’t expecting them when they land. After all, it’s common knowledge that Ghoul is a Bat-affiliate, but Red Hood’s alliance with the Batclan is still relatively new. Shaky.

And a lot of people still think the Red Hood hates Ghoul. Admittedly, the way Jason tried to kill you when he returned hadn’t helped the rumors.

It made sense at the time. He’d also tried to kill Batman, Nightwing, and Robin, so it’s not like it was entirely personal. You don’t hold a grudge.

“Where’s Batman?” is his first question.

You shrug. “Running late.”

Jason’s not sure if that’s true. With you and Robin patrolling Newtown and Otisburg, Spoiler and Red Robin handling everything from the Coventry to the Upper East Side, and Black Bat and Batwing watching over everything else but the Tricorner, the city is in pretty good hands for the night.

And yes, Jason’s knowledge about patrol schedules is from his days as a crime lord, but it still comes in handy as a reformed vigilante.

“Why did you summon us here, Commissioner?” Robin asks.

“Bane escaped Arkham earlier tonight,” says the Commissioner. “We have reason to believe he’s hiding out in Amusement Mile. The Joker’s not out, for one, and we have a… witness… that claims to have seen Bane in the park.”

“Where is this witness?” Robin demands.

“In our holding cell, sobering up,” Gordon says with a long-suffering sigh.

“Oh, great,” Jason says. “So it might have been Bane, or it might have been one of those giant stuffed bears at every amusement park.”

You elbow him in the side and promise Gordon, “We’ll check it out, Commish. Let you know when he’s handled again!”

You and Robin balance on the edge of the roof. Jason asks in a low tone, “Batman’s not coming tonight, is he?” He would have already been here.

You and Robin share a guilty look.

Jason sighs. Bane is a tough opponent, possibly their strongest rogue. It’ll take a lot of force to bring him down… force he’s not sure you and Robin can muster. You’re good vigilantes, don’t get him wrong, but Robin is a prepubescent boy and has the height and muscle mass to show for it. You’re strong and graceful and should be fine as long as you keep your distance, but Jason’s the only one that comes close to Bane in terms of muscle mass.

It’ll be up to him to keep the two of you safe.

“I think I parked my bike somewhere around here,” you say. “It’ll get us there faster than grappling.”

Jason thinks something is stuck in his throat. He croaks, “You have a motorcycle?”

You nod. He can’t see your face beneath the mask, but he’s pretty sure you’re smiling. “Got it just a couple weeks ago, but I needed Earl to paint it over.”

“It is parked in that alley.” Robin points.

“Okay,” Jason says. “You two drive to my apartment. I’ll follow above, then we’ll head to Amusement Mile.”

“Aye-aye,” you joke. “Come on, bud.”

You and Robin swing away, the younger boy loudly complaining about the myriad nicknames you think up for him. Jason swings away to get a headstart. A minute later, the sound of a bike engine revving hits Jason’s ears, and it isn’t long after that he looks down to see you and Robin on a pale bike painted in the same colors as your suit.

You look up and wave.

Jason almost misses his next swing. He swallows and has to look away. Seeing you on a motorcycle…

As soon as he puts the key in his bike’s ignition, you speed away, tires squealing against the asphalt. Jason grins and twists the throttle. He shoots onto the street and hunches low to decrease wind resistance, pushing the bike hard to catch up to you.

You wear no helmet, but you’d forced Robin to wear one. He sits behind you on the bike, arms locked around your waist. At the sight of Jason, he makes a rude gesture, but Jason just huffs out a laugh. The brat likes to aggravate him on purpose, but it’s hard to feel annoyed when he drives next to you, racing side-by-side.

It doesn’t take long to reach Amusement Mile. You and Jason shift gears, rolling to a stop.

“You and Robin go high,” Jason instructs. “I’ll go low.”

“Roger.” You kick the stand for your bike, then you and Robin shoot your grapples for the nearest roof.

In seconds, the two of you are out of sight.

Jason swallows. He hates this strip of clown-themed land. The Joker isn’t in it currently, but it still reminds him of that madman.

Come on. He shakes himself. Jason can’t afford to get distracted. Bane is dangerous.

Jason makes no effort to muffle the sounds of his footsteps as he strolls through the park. A plastic bag drifts along the path with a gust of wind, and a couple bowling pins on the ground roll. But apart from that, the park is empty and quiet.

Too quiet.

Jason turns just in time to avoid a crushing blow to his head.

He hits the ground rolling and comes up with guns blazing. Bullets deflect off Bane’s armor, and he doesn’t seem to feel the ones that burrow into his skin.

“You will not stop me, Red Hood,” says the mechanized voice. “No one will stop me in my pursuit to break Batman, even though he sent you in his place.”

“He didn’t send me,” says Jason.

Help comes from above. A steel bola—one of your weapons of choice—whips through the air and wraps around Bane’s throat. He chokes and reaches up to untangle it. At the same time, a Batarang slices through the air and cuts straight through one of the hoses pumping super-steroid into his body.

He groans. Drops to one knee.

Jason spares a glance to the rooftops, but he only sees Robin.

That moment of distraction costs him. Bane surges back to his feet and tackles him. Jason hits the ground, the back of his head colliding against the pavement so hard his vision blacks out for a moment.

He blinks away the darkness in time to see a punishing fist aimed right for his head. There’s not enough time to dodge. Jason can only brace for an impact… that never comes.

The hook of a grapple is embedded into Bane’s wrist. Its line is taught. On the roof of a decrepit popcorn stand, Robin yanks back with all his might.

Jason knees Bane in the crotch, then elbows him in the face.

Bane grunts and yanks his arm forward, pulling Robin right to the ground in a flutter of cape, but Jason slips out from beneath him and rolls to his feet. Bane may be strong, and his hits may hurt, but that’s only if they connect. And Bane isn’t very fast.

The engine of a bike roars, and your voice shouts, “Hood, out of the way!”

Jason obeys without thinking. It’s a good thing he doesn’t hesitate, because he barely dodges your motorcycle before you ram it full-speed into Bane.

Not even the giant can resist a motorcycle going full-throttle. He topples back, and you keep driving, treating his body like a ramp.

Jason laughs despite himself. “I can see tire tracks on your face, ugly!” He and Robin throw knives at the same time. Robin’s slices off another steroid line. Jason’s lodges in Bane’s shoulder. It should have severed his deltoid, leaving his arms useless, but the man doesn’t react to the pain at all.

Getting run over pisses Bane off. You turn in a sharp circle on the bike and rev your engine, obviously ready to try the same trick twice.

But Jason sees the tension in Bane’s legs, and he’s shouting for you to stop after you start.

You don’t listen. You just drive.

Bane sidesteps your bike at the last possible second, and his arm shoots out. His hand is large enough to wrap around your entire throat, and it yanks you off your bike, which skids away with a screech of tire and metal. You choke, scrabbling at the iron fingers around your throat.

Jason has his gun out in a second, but Bane holds your body in front of his. So Jason shoots his foot. It doesn't have an effect.

“Ghoul!” Robin shouts. He unsheathes his katana.

“I tire of this,” Bane says through his modulator.

He snaps your neck.

“NO!”

It’s like the world slows down. Jason can only watch as Bane carelessly drops your lifeless body.

He sees Robin lunge with his sword. He sees Bane casually backhand him so hard he drops his katana. Robin flies backward, hits the popcorn stand, and slumps to the ground, motionless.

Bane steps on you—your body—and something in your spine cracks. Something in Jason’s chest cracks, too, and he sees green.

The Pit surges.

After it recedes, Robin’s katana is lodged firmly in a moaning Bane’s side. Every one of his steroid pumps is severed, and his mask is cracked. He’s weak enough without his Venom that three Bat-restraints and a set of handcuffs can hold him.

Huh. Jason’s surprised he didn’t kill him.

His knuckles are bleeding; they’re slick inside his gloves. When he flexes his fingers, pain screams up his nerves, through his arm all the way to his heart. At least two are broken, and another knuckle might be dislocated. His jaw hurts, his brain is pounding—concussion, probably—and his knee feels swollen. But he can put pressure on it, at least, and he limps to a stirring Robin.

“Hey,” Jason says. His voice is rough. He doesn’t remember yelling. He tries to crouch, but can’t with the stiff knee, so he just kind of collapses in front of the kid. “Robin. Status report.”

The kid looks at him, wobbling even though he’s sitting down. One hand goes up to touch the back of his head, and the tips of his gloves gleam with dark blood when he pulls it back. “Possible concussion,” he says with a wavering voice. “Ribs—”

Robin gasps and stumbles to his feet.

“Don’t—”

Jason tries to grab him, but Robin wobbles out of his reach. He walks hunched over in a zigzag, limping to your—

Jason grunts and stands back up. “Hey, hey, Robin.” He gets between the kid and you. “Don’t. Don’t—don’t look.”

“Do not stop me, Todd,” hisses the kid, and wow, he must be seriously out of it to use Jason’s civilian name. “Let me see them.”

“You don’t want to,” Jason says grimly. He’s seen snapped necks before, and they’re… Well, they’re as unnatural-looking as they sound.

He hears a rushing in his ears. A wave of grief is cresting, ready to sweep him away, but Jason has to keep it together for Robin. He barely hears his own voice when he says, “Ghoul’s gone.” He can’t say the ‘D’ word. Not when he feels like puking.

“Unhand me, you blackguard,” Robin hissed. “You do not understand. They might be—”

“They’re not.”

“Todd!” the kid says, voice rising into a shrill.

Something clicks behind them.

Jason whirls around to make sure Bane hasn’t broken out of his restraints.

He hasn’t.

So what made the noise?

He and Robin are looking right at the body when some invisible force takes your head and—and wrenches it.

Robin lets out a low cry.

Jason feels frozen. He doesn’t stop the kid when he stumbles forward and collapses next to the body. His shoulders shake, head bowed with grief.

Jason is still watching when he sees your chest rise and fall with a breath.

“Oh, what the fuck,” he whispers, stumbling back. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the—”

Your head raises, and you reach to your neck with a wince.

Robin freezes.

“Ow,” you grumble, pushing up to your elbows. “That sucked.”

“What the fuck?” Jason exclaims.

“What is going on?” Robin demands.

You look between the two vigilantes. “Sorry to freak you out, guys.” Which is a completely underwhelming thing to say when you just died and then unsnapped your own neck.

Robin makes a low, wounded sound, then throws himself at you, wrapping his arms around your neck and squeezing hard. You hug him back just as tight, murmuring low things that Jason tries not to hear. It’s a personal moment, and he feels like an intruder, but he can’t move. His feet are planted to the ground.

Seconds ago, you’d been dead. No doubt about it. Bane had snapped your neck and you had crumbled like paper.

Now you’re breathing and alive.

It doesn’t compute. It doesn’t make any sense.

Robin comes to the same conclusion, because he pulls away and pinches your arm. “How is this possible?”

“Bud, do you remember when… you remember when Pyg got me, right?”

“Of course.”

“Well, I don’t,” says Jason. Professor Pyg kidnapped you? What the fuck? When did that happen?

You look up at him, still holding Robin close. “We weren’t exactly on speaking terms when it happened, Hood.”

Oh.

“But Father ran his tests and said his experimentation just gave you advanced healing,” says Robin.

“Which is technically true—”

“Resurrection is quite different from healing!” the kid says.

“Wait, you knew they had powers?” Jason asks Robin.

The kid sneers at him. “Of course. I was the one that found Ghoul, and I patrol with them at least once a week. It would take an unobservant fool to miss their obvious healing abilities."

Jason bristles with indignation.

Robin's head turns on a swivel to glare at you. "It was less obvious that you have nothing to fear from physical injuries. Informing me of this fact would have greatly reduced the chances of experiencing emotional distress at the sight of your dead, mangled body."

"I know," you say, cupping his chin in your hand. "I'm really, really sorry, Dami."

"Do not address me as such," he says, "we are in costume." Robin huffs and scrambles out of your lap, brushing debris off his suit. Then he wobbles and nearly falls over, and you lunge to catch him.

"Woah, bud, you okay?"

"He's concussed," Jason says.

"Too concussed to ride on the back of my bike?"

"Of course not," says Robin. Then he leans over and pukes.

"Oh, Batman's gonna kill me," you mutter.

It's a much tamer drive to the Batcave, in case Robin rolls off the bike accidentally. He doesn't, but you do have to stop a couple of times so he can lean over the side and retch.

When all is said and done and you're back at the Cave and Alfred and Bruce are fussing over Damian, you and Jason hang back a bit. He can't stop sneaking glances at you. Your Ghoul mask is off, and there's a little dried blood around your nostrils, and your hair is a little sweaty, but you're the most beautiful thing Jason's ever seen.

You're alive. He can hardly believe it.

You suddenly sigh and mutter, "I guess you're mad at me, too?"

"What?" Jason startles.

"For not telling you about my abilities."

"Y/N—"

"I just didn't want you guys to think of me differently. Duke has his powers, yeah, but he was born with them. I got mine from Pyg. I didn't want everyone to start treating me like a victim."

All things considered, you're remarkably well-adjusted for someone that survived Professor Pyg's experimentation. "You're the strongest person I've ever met, Y/N," says Jason. "Your powers don't change that. They make me feel a little better about you patrolling at night, anyway. They're basically like... a second chance."

You snort. "I think I'm on my fifth chance by this point."

Jason shakes his head. "How did you keep your powers a secret, again?"

"Well, the first time, Pyg shut off my heart, but that didn't shut down my body. When I actually noticed that I couldn't die, though, was that time one of Cobblepot's goons stabbed me in the neck and I woke up in the middle of a shootout. Now that wasn't fun." You grimace. "A bullet caught me in the head and I died as soon as I sat up. The Bats were too preoccupied to notice me, luckily. Then there was that time with the poison dart that I kept a secret, and now this time." You smirk, cross your arms, and bump Jason's hip with your own. "I'm beating you in the resurrection department, aren't I?"

Jason huffs, pretending to be offended, and your eyes widen. "Oh, my God. That was in such poor taste. I'm so sorry."

"No," he says, trying to hide the twist of his lips. If it was anyone else saying it, Jason would probably kill them. "No, it's okay. I'm just glad you're all right. It would have been awful if you'd died and I never took the chance to..."

"Chance to what?" You look up at him through your eyelashes.

Jason's breath catches in his throat. He's never done this before, dammit, but seeing you die today made him remember just how limited their time is as vigilantes.

Well, maybe not yours, but he walks a thin line.

"Doyouwanttogetcoffeewithme?"

You blink. "What?"

"Do you," Jason says slowly, feeling sweat prickle on his hairline, "want to... Um. Get coffee? With me. As in, like—"

"A date?"

"Only if you want to."

You nod, eyes sparkling. "Hell yeah I want to!"

Damian, Bruce, and Alfred look over at your raised voice. Their disapproving smiles are all eerily similar.

"Sorry," you whisper. You look back at Jason and say, "Yeah, I'd like that. I've been waiting ages for you to ask."

Yes. You said yes. Adrenaline rushes through Jason's veins, and he only barely resists the urge to pump his fist in the air like a moron. He's brave enough to tease, "Well, why didn't you ask me?"

Your face flushes and you look away.

It's at that moment that Damian calls, "Y/N. Stop twittering with Todd and come here. Your presence is required."

"Seriously," Jason said under his breath, "the way he talks like a Victorian child doesn't bother you at all?"

You're smiling. "I think he's adorable." You walk backwards to the brat, making a phone gesture with your hand and mouthing to Jason, Call me.

He definitely will.

"Master Jason," comes Alfred's disapproving voice when he turns back to his bike. "Don't think I didn't notice that you have your own injuries to tend to."

Of course, that sets off Bruce's worry alert even more.

Jason groans. He won't be able to sneak out for coffee with you for an entire week after this whole debacle.

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