#sometimes hes like. man should i be doing this? and jason is like. yeah

[iesbiandisaster]

Finally make a lazy chibi full body of Arkham knight! Audax. Yeah they're apart of the Militia, he absolutely hates Batman

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Sometimes I feel like us as the bat family fandom forget how starry eyed people get about Nightwing canonically.

Because with the exception of early era Tim most of the Batkids are like. lol that’s my loser older brother or some variation of yeah…he’s some guy I guess? He helps me with homework?

And Nightwing is the canonically a center of multiversal light.

When Heroes meet Nightwing they do the vigorous handshake and the “it’s an honor to meet you sir, I have heard so much about you oh my god”

There are so many character where they are literally shown giggling and kicking their feet whenever Nightwing talks to them.

Even the people who don’t have the celebrity level worship of him respect the hell out of him and call him as soon as they need help.

From raven to Starfire to Superman to Superboy to all or the flashes there is so much respect and awe given to this one dude.

And it is deserved

But imagine you are Damian Wayne and you’ve been working with what 90% of the people you’ve met (all bats) have been calling an embarrassment to your father’s legacy.

Your mother hates him and your Grandfather doesn’t feel that strongly about him.

The red hood calls him an embarrassment and a coward and he couldn’t even keep Red Robin from running away.

Your father tells him that he never should have been Batman

And you’ve worked with him and you know what you think everyone is full of shit about him and you and him the new Batman and Robin are the best no matter what anyone says.

And fuck it the fact he keeps going in a suit that everyone tells him he’s not good enough for is scratching something in your brain that you’re refusing to acknowledge because why would you feel that way? You are the circus freak have nothing in common (shut up)

And then you meet the justice league and all the extended teams.

And people are falling over themselves to listen to a word out of your brothers, your Batman’s mouth. They wait for a nod or headshake and dictate decades worth of planning on it.

Both Drake and Todd’s hero teams ask him for advice with or without their designated bats presence.

The man of steel asks for child rearing advice and wonder woman cracks a joke about a spar

Newer heroes whisper about him in the halls

He’s literally your favorite hero’s favorite hero

And it’s breaking Damian’s Brain

Because well… he kinda gets slapped around in Gotham. He’s the butt of half the jokes the other Batkids make and Dick just smiles and takes it.

The rogues have a bounty on nightwings ass and he gets leered at by goons, rogues, civilians and anti-hero’s alike and he doesn’t say anything.

He lets oracle crack jokes about a pretty face and having to do everything herself

Let’s Jason run the alley despite the fact that apparently he knows how to take it back

Apparently he’s had 12 people tailing Drake since Paris and despite being the man Ra’s Al Ghul calls detective has yet to notice. (Because you can’t tell me Dick was just magically at the right place to catch Tim falling to his death on coincidence)

And necessary to peace talks because he’s the best they have at deescalation

Like imagine you are a child who was raised to believe power is this obvious, all consuming thing. That the ones who control the board are visibly larger than life figures who fought their way to the top and cling to power by even the thinnest hangnail if they had to.

People who ignore simpler morals or an overall greater goal or good

And then you’re taken in by the man who whispers the correct answers into the larger than life figures ear.

Like I feel like that would have such an impact because Dick didn’t take power from anyone to reach his goals, it’s why his siblings don’t really defer to him unless in crisis.

Dick didn’t take power, no people just looked at him and decided he was the best option to give it to.

Everyone basically looked at this kid and went, yeah you’re the future of all heroism.

And if that dude can’t even get Bruce Wayne’s respect what chance does Damian Wayne have

[bats-and-the-birds]

The Batkids on being mistaken as Bruce's biological children.

Look, the Batkids have all been forced into various social gatherings, and enough of them share vague features with Bruce that some of the older members among Gotham's old money, or the younger ones that are out of the loop, sometimes mix up the facts.

Dick gets it from the very beginning. Old women pinch his cheeks, still tan from a life outside of Gotham's gloom, and tell him, Such a sweet little boy, and just like your father at your age. His hair used to stick up just like yours. Dick didn't like it at all. He bit the first person that told him he had Bruce's eyes, and stomped on the foot of an old politician that told him, With your father's height, I thought you'd be taller by now.

He laughs it off as an adult, but sometimes, it still eats at him. People still tell him that they thought he'd eventually be as tall as Bruce, or that he should be thankful for his inherited jaw line. It's not the comparison to Bruce that bothers him anymore, or even being mistaken as his son, but rather, the fact that he sometimes struggles to remember exactly where his features actually came from; parental faces turning fuzzy in his distant memory.

Jason thinks it's funny, the first time it happens. Mostly because it's his nose of all things. Your nose is bent, grumbled the old man sitting across from him at the gala, Just like your father's. Tough luck on the genetics. The man didn't realize the bent noses were because they'd both been broken in the past. Jason spent days after studying Bruce's face, trying to figure out if their noses really bent in the same way, and eventually came to the conclusion that, yeah, they really did. From that point on, each time either of them broke their nose, Jason would distantly think, Ah, damn, there goes the family resemblance.

As an adult, Jason takes care to make sure people don't often seen his face. The hood does a pretty good job of that. Besides, he doesn't move in circles where the mistake could be made anymore. Still, sometimes he looks in the mirror at the bump in his nose and thinks, Family resemblance. Yeah, right.

It happens less with Tim. Anyone that made the mistake with Jason and Dick also remembered Jack and Janet Drake. It's not until he's almost an adult that a new hire at Wayne Industries, some kid from out of town, sees him and Bruce in the office together and remarks, Oh, you two furrow your eyebrows in the same way when you think. My mom says that my dad and I do that too. We inherited it from my grandpa. Tim feels unsettled all day and makes a conscious effort to not to furrow his eyebrows anymore.

There's no mistake to make with Damian. At least, not the same one that can be made with the others. He's the blood son, and he's a perfect mix between Bruce and Talia. Of course, there's the well-meaning, if confused, adults that assume he's adopted like the others. He corrects them, swiftly, and sometimes aggressively.

There is one incident. It happens while Bruce is gone, after he's been staying with Grayson for a few months. He knew, of course, that people thought that Grayson looked like Bruce. He could even see the similarities. Superficially, of course. However, he never considered that Grayson looking like his father also meant that Grayson looked like him. Not until an old woman leaned over to him at a gala and said, You look just like your father when Mister Wayne first brought him out to these things. The hair, that disgruntled little frown. He hated these parties too. Couldn't ever sit still. Gosh, I really can't believe it's been long enough that he has a child of his own. It took Damian a while to realize what happened, and even then, he couldn't bring himself to tell her that he wasn't actually Grayson's son, or that he and Grayson weren't actually that far apart in age. He felt strangely guilty the rest of the night, and he never dared to tell Grayson about it.

It happened to Steph exactly once. Really, she doesn't look like Bruce at all. It was a man with exceptionally thick glasses, who actually told her that she reminded him of Martha Wayne. She's pretty sure he was just trying to be nice. She tries to forget about it. She never tells Bruce.

You have his eyes, is what Duke gets. Which confuses him, because, uh, no, he doesn't. Not even close like Dick's. He says as much to the woman that said it to him, and she squints her eyes at him and responds, No, you definitely do. Not in the shape or the color, but you look at things the same way he does. Duke thinks about that sometimes, and he swings back and forth between being annoyed and weirdly proud that he apparently looked at the world like Batman did.

People tell Cass that she has his smile. She beams with pride at that. After all, she learned it from him. She studied, closely, the way his mouth ticked up at the corners, both while he stretched the dazzling, fake smile across his face for the public, and the genuine, gentle smiles that he gave her while he helped tie her hair back or slip on her mask, and now she could replicate them both perfectly. She didn't like the fake one, but she knew it was necessary.

[kayadrake123]

Batfam incorrect quotes

__________________________________ *Y/N and Steph rolling cookie dough with their hands* *Duke, Jason and Damian walk into the kitchen just as Y/N’s phone beeps* Y/N: Hey Jason, can you get that for me please, I’m a little occupied.

Jason, picking up the phone: From Teddy, “In town tonight, would love to see you. 9pm, drinks?”

Y/N, freaking out: Oh my god, Teddy!

Tim, coming from under the table: Hey, who’s Teddy?

Duke, confused like everyone else: Woah, hey man. What are you doing-

Y/N: Tim?

Tim, shrugging: Sometimes I just sit under the table and listen to you guys.

Damian: What the fuck-

Duke: Weird and gross.

Steph: Makes sense…

Tim: Who’s Teddy?

Y/N, talking to Steph: What do you think he wants? You think I should meet him for a drink?

Tim: Am I the only one kind of dying to know who this Teddy character is?

*Duke, Jason, Steph and Damian collectively roll their eyes*

Tim: I think I speak for all of us-

Jason: Tim, you and Y/N didn’t work out, okay!

Tim: I’m just-

Jason: www.Moveon.org

Tim: www.It’s not about that, okay? Just-

Duke, patting him on the shoulder: Chill out.

Damian: This is so embarrassing Drake.

Tim: Yeah, okay. Thanks.

*Tim slips under the table again* _____________________________________

[redflagshipwriter]

Mamabat- enter Jason 1/2

MASTERPOST

The air was different with Cass, now. Danny felt a little anxious as he followed her to the study after breakfast. Something about her was serious-determined-protective. 

She always felt protective towards him. That was why he'd followed her in the first place. Some ghosts lied, but they couldn't do it with their aura. He knew what she really felt for him. 

“Sit?” She asked him. She gestured at the big squashy chair. Danny did without complaint. Cass perched behind him and started dragging her fingers through his hair, relaxing him.

Man. She was good at this. Top tier mothering, right here. Danny went limp. 

“I'm worried,” Cass broke the silence. She didn't sound worried. She never really did. Her voice was quiet and serious, but still kind. Her thumbs dug into his scalp. He pushed his head back against it. Bliss. “Barbara made you sad. Because you miss your sister?”

Danny tensed. 

‘I should have figured that Batman would track me down.’

Maybe he had known, if he was honest with himself. It didn't hit him like a shock.

“Tim thinks your name is Fenton,” she added, brutally sensible as always. And yup, that was it. No point in denying it. “Declared dead. In danger?”

He sucked in air through his teeth. He wasn't going to lie to her. 

“Worried,” she repeated. 

He thought about it. He really did. Danny bit his lip. 

She was liminal. That probably meant she'd come really close to death, in at least one sense of the word. Would that mean she was desensitized to it, or extra paranoid?

��It was hard to imagine Cass over or under reacting to a possible danger. She was just so steady. But would she see him as a possible danger if she knew what he was, what he really was? 

He could feel it out before he took a plunge with the whole truth.

Maybe it was wrong. Maybe it was invasive. She didn't seem to realize that she was liminal. That meant she definitely didn't realize how much she was communicating to him under her words and gestures. 

But Danny deliberately tuned into her quiet aural communication and tested the waters. “Tim is right, I'm Danny Fenton,” he said. He knew he was too tense. She would definitely feel it. But what could he do about that? He was nervous. “I… Maybe I did die.”

Her heart dropped to her stomach. He could feel the crush of grief on her heart. 

But it didn’t wash away the thudding repetition of love-protect-my darling. There was no suspicion, no guilt, no fear. It was just pain for his sake, with no calculation about how to solve a sudden problem. 

God. He wanted so badly for that to have been how his parents reacted. His eyes started to sting.

Danny sniffled. He thought it was safe to tell her. “I died,” he corrected, and he knew he was right when Cass made a little wounded sound and leaned her body into him, aiming to comfort. “Not then, but a couple years ago. I’m different now, and it’s uh… It’s dangerous to be this way.”

“Affects?” Cass asked quietly. She started to pet his hair again. “Mood? Health?”

“...Huh,” he said, because that was a sensible question he hadn’t expected. If he really thought about his mood and emotions before and after the accident: “Yeah, uh, there’s sometimes a mood thing. I might be a little more aggressive than I was before? And I can get kind of intense sometimes.”

He had thought that was basically just a reaction to having a whole bunch of new threats in his life. But would pre-electrocution Danny have been able to actually stand and fight Skulker? He had genuinely been afraid of the jocks. Maybe… Maybe he was different. Sure, Sam and Jazz were up for shooting ghosts with Fenton tech. Would he have been if he was just human? 

…He didn’t really think so.

Oof. Well, that wasn’t exactly great for his sense of self.

Cass shook him lightly. “Health?” she repeated.

Danny forced down that revelation to deal with later. He didn’t like acknowledging that he was kind of a chicken by nature, but historically, there wasn’t much evidence of bravery pre-mortem. “Uh, my heart rate is really slow, body temp is low, so I can’t really afford to go to a doctor for a checkup,” he said. “Uh, sometimes I’ve got none at all and my hair turns white.” He paused there. That was- that was enough, yeah? He was going to be honest with her because she deserved honesty from him. But that didn’t mean he had to explain the whole great beyond and his inhuman status.

“Sounds like Jason,” Cass said, after a long silence.

Danny short-circuited. “Wait, what?” He craned to look at her. “Who?”

Cass darted forward to kiss his forehead. “Little brother,” she said cheerfully. “Want to meet him?”

Uh, yeah. Danny nodded vigorously, wondering what the hell she was on about. “Do you mean he died?” 

“Died,” Cass agreed, getting out her phone and tapping away at it rapidly.

“Not like, heart stopped for a minute on the operating table and he was revived, or what?” Danny pressed.

“Dead in the ground, came back later,” Cass said. “Dead for months. Now, very crabby.”

Danny balked. “What?”

“White hair too,” she said. Then her face did something funny. “I think he dyed it recently,” she said. 

Danny huffed a laugh. “If it’s the same thing as mine, you can’t dye it.” He saw her look over his head for white streaks. He didn’t correct her line of thought.

He hadn’t thought that anything could top the anticipation of meeting Batman. But Danny had to admit the rest of the day was a wash. Apparently Jason couldn’t make it until the evening, about an hour before patrol.

Danny nearly paced a line into the carpet. He had enough energy to do that now, even without ecto. He was getting soooo much food here. A guy couldn’t even stress out for an hour without someone coming by to make sure he had fruit and yogurt or a hot drink.

He didn’t need someone to come and tell him that the much anticipated Jason had shown up. Danny knew it when he went to take a sip of cruelty-free chocolate milk (hand delivered by the most frightening child in the world) and choked on vapor.

Damian gave him a glare and snatched the drink away. “Are you incapable of drinking beverages?” he demanded. His face looked so goddamn cross but he was just worried.

Danny managed a smile. “No, went down the wrong pipe, sorry.”

Damian didn’t seem to even see the fog, so- so that meant that either he was really unobservant or he wasn’t liminal enough to see it the way people did in Amity. That was a small blessing. Danny appreciated it and he took back his drink to have something to hold onto.

That was a whole ass ghost. That was a whole ghost coming onto the property, one that felt big and mad and old. Danny smacked his lips, disconcerted. 

He, uh, didn’t know what to expect from this.

[spidernuggets]

im very intrigued and fascinated about the way you write jason! i wonder what would happen next when reader found out the man she has been lusting for is the red hood👀 (if youre up to and feel free to ignore this if you dont) for part 2 jason x reader. thank youuuu

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Part 2 to this.

MDNI

Warning: more of reader's fantasies, Jason losing his self-control, slight biting, fingering

"Ah, you're a bouncer?" You said, leaning your chin against your palm as you talked with Jason. When he asked you out on a proper date at the same place the two of you first met, you were thrilled.

Sure, you didn't want to replace your boy, Red Hood, but he didn't seem like the person who'd reveak his identity to some civilian who would oatch him up every once in a while. Plus, you haven't been dating for a while, so now you got this hunk of beef sitting right in front of you.

"Yeah, yeah.. Not at a set place, though. I move around from time to time." Jason said, sipping on his black coffee. When asking you out, he believed it would've been a breeze.

Well, it has. It wasn't awkward. It seemed like you were having a great time, and he liked that. What he didn't like was now that you told him— Well. Told Red Hood your... 'infatuation' with this newfound civilian, Jason Todd, with every glace you took with each part of his body; his legs, his arms, his hands, his fucking nose, his mind would replay those atrocious but delicious scenes you described to him: Choking you with his biceps, squishing your face with his thighs, your sopping cunt dragging over his crooked nose-

"Do you get a lot of weirdos to deal with?" You suddenly asked, breaking him out of his trance.

He shrugged, pretending that his cock wasn't semi hard right now. "Here and there." He said.

Jason would be lying if he said he hadn't thought about you before you told him about your fantasies. He remembers the ice-cold showers he had to take with his hand grasped around his cock, visualising your mouth and moans as his slick mixed with the water.

He was so ashamed. You were some innocent civilian he met, helping him out with his injuries. But that all changed when you met Jason Todd. He still felt a little humiliation thinking about you naked so easily. He taught himself to be more respectful than that. But, hey. He asked you on a date. Baby steps.

You shrugged. "Shouldn't be a problem for you, huh? With those muscles, I doubt they'd give you much threat."

You bastard.

Why the hell did you have to comment on his muscles? He felt like pouncing on you to satisfy your desire if shoving his tongue dow your throat.

He cleared his throat. "Nothing I can't handle."

"Thanks for asking me out, Jason," you said, looking up at him as the two of you stood outside. "I had fun. We should do it again sometime."

He hated you. You acted all innocent. He knew right now that you were thinking of the most filthiest things. And that's making him think of the most filthiest things. That's your fault he's thinking this way. It's totally your fault. But he wouldn't admit to himsekf that he's definitely coming over to your place as Red Hood to hear what other things you have to say about Jason.

He nodded. "I had fun, too." He lightly smiled back. "I'll see you around, yeah?"

"Mhm. Bye, Jason," you said as you got on your bus.

"Holy. Shit, Red." You groaned, cleaning a small wound on his arm.

"I don't wanna hear it." He gruffs.

Yes. Yes, the hell he does.

"Don't care. You should've thought twice about coming over for me to clean a scratch," you scoffed.

"As if he couldn't get any sexier, he's a goddamn bouncer. Fuuuck, I would literally pay to see him throw around some weirdos."

Red Hood turned to face you. "You know bouncers don't do that, right?"

"Shut up. Don't interrupt me. Anyway. I literally would've let him kiss me there. Slow and soft, hard and wet, who cares, I'd accept either. And if we weren't in a damn cafe, I would've let him bend me over that stulid table."

Jason didn't realise how good his self-control was. If he was alone, he'd be rock hard. Hell, he'd probably already be cumming.

"There. All done." You said, tossing the blood-stained wipes into the bin. "What?" You said when you turned around, seeing Red Hood stare silently at you.

It was stupid, really. Jason Todd and Red Hood are the same person. The same person that you were thinking so dirty of. But you didn't know that. So, you talking about wanting to fuck 'some other guy' instead of him pissed him off. He wanted you to tell him directly.

Ah. Maybe that's why he wasn't hard.

"You literally saw me beat people to a pulp, and you're worked up about this guy being a bouncer? One whose job isn't to toss people around?" He gruffed, a scowl on his face.

"You jealous?" You smirked. "I told you so many times. I'd be interested in you if I knew what you look like. You're hot as fuck... But at the same time I don't know if you're hot as fuck."

"You're really fucking annoying, you know that?" He said, standing up, making you scrunch your brows together.

"What?—"

"How many times do I have to tell you to shut up about your weird sexual desires about this guy you went on ONE date with?" Jason doesn't know what he's doing. Or what he's saying. He wants to do all that shit with you. Make you scream, make you cum, make you feel good. It's not your fault you don't know, but he doesn't want to blame himself for wanting you so much.

You rolled your eyes. "I told you not to come back if you didn't wanna kno—"

Jason tore his helmet off, his eyes blown, and his cheeks flushed. It was just hot under his helmet, he guesses.

"Oh, what the fuck." You said, your shoulders sagging and your jaw dropped as he revealed himself to you. Though your shock quickly changed to embarrassment.

Oh my fucking god, you just told this guy the most horrid things you'd let him do to you.

Jason stormed his way right in front of you, towering over you. "How many times, huh?" He repeated. "I told you to shut up, but you never fucking listen."

His rough voice was supposed to be threatening. But why the hell were your legs clenched together at the way he shadowed over you? Why the hell was his snarled face and gritted teeth making you want to get on your knees.

"Your face.. that face.." He lowly said, pointing his finger between your eyes. "You're doing it again! You're letting that vulgar brain think again! Do you know how hard it was today? Having to take you on a date without wanting you to drag you to an empty aisle and fuck you senseless?" His hands moved to your hips, gripping them tight as his touch sent a wave of heat rushing to your core.

"The fuck- I didn't know!How the hell was I supposed to know you were Red Hood!" You defended yourself, though he ignored it.

"Come here." He demanded, tmdragging you dmto the couch. He sat down, pulling you with him. You stumbled over him, your ass rutting against his crotch, making him groan as your back was flush against his chest.

Jason left one hand resting on your hip, bringing his other arm to wrap around your neck. "This what you wanted, sweetheart?" He said spitefully.

You gasped, your hands instantly holding onto his forearm. Holy shit, it's happening. You don't know whether to be scared or excited.

"Jason.." You squeaked, leaning your head back against his shoulder.

"What? I thought this was what you wanted." He lowly said, giving your hips a squeeze before trailing his hand down to your thigh, rubbing it up and down. He then flexed his other arm, just a bit to put slight strain to your throat.

It was pathetic when you let out a small whine. He barely touched you, yet you can feel your panties soaking up already.

Jason took your chin between his index and thumb, turning your head to look at him. "Is this what you wanted?" He lowly asked as his lips just barely grazed over yours.

"Yes.." You whispered, leaning closer just to feel more of his lips. Jason let out a guttural groan as he pressed his lips against yours, his hand tightly gripping your thigh while you couldn't help but whimper, finally feeling his chapped lips.

As Jason dragged his tongue over your bottom lip, seeking entrance, you made no hesitation giving him what he wanted. And finally, your dreams of him stuffing your mouth with his tongue have been fulfilled.

While his tongue explored every inch of your mouth, his hand was inching up your thigh, tracing the waistband of your sweatpants before his fingers trailed inside, gliding over your soaked panties

"Shit.. Wet already?" Jason muttered against your lips as your hips stuttered among his hold.

"Fuck— Red, I swear if you're gonna spend the next 20 minutes teasing me, I'm kicking you out and finishing this off myself," you hissed impatiently.

"Needy, needy, needy," Jason shook his head and clicked his tongue as his fingers moved in circular motions over your clothes cunt, making you whine and throw your head back over his shoulder.

"Oh.. Yes, just like that.." You muttered, grasping onto his bicep.

Jason's ego skyrocketed at your cute moans as his hand found its way under your panties, feeling your sopping sex as your breath shuddered, begging for more.

He groaned at your pleas, his fingers pinching at your clit as you whined, turning your head as you sunk your teeth just barely into his arm while Jason let out a whispered curse.

He let two of his fingers find their way into your cunt, pumping in and out, the lewd, squelching sounds and moans filling up your living room.

"Fuck! Faster— Please!" You whined as your hips bucked against his hand, making Jason oblige to your begging as he quickened the pace.

You felt your stomach knotting up as your breath was caught in your throat, your other hand reaching up behind you, grasping at Jason's hair. He knew you were close as he continued to pump his thick fingers inside of your pussy while his thumb rubbed against your throbbing clit, his lips pressing soft, reassuring kisses to your neck.

Your back arched as you felt yourself let go, your cum soaking both his fingers and your panties. Jason moved his arm from your neck to your waist, supporting you up while you panted, turning your head to face him while he pressed a kiss to your forhead.

"Fuck.. Jason.. I—" Before you could get up, Jason grabbed your waist, pushing you down to lie on the couch while he hovered over you, pressing his knee between your legs.

"Hold on, sweet thing. Did you think we were finished?" He muttered. "No, no... there's so much that you wanted me to do to you... And I'm gonna make sure you don't miss out.."

i'll personally pay for everyone's therapy after reading this, I'm so sorry, writing smut isn't my forte

@little-miss-naill @viylikescats @jasontoddsthunderthigh @bizarresuperflaw @927roses-and-stuff @myromanempiree @heylosers06 @doorflameburnt @kurai-hono-blog @linasymphonia @blacksiren777 @diamondnightsky23 @lizzyk137

[clockwayswrites]

City Pigeons Bleed Green Part 14

masterpost

“You always make the best waffles Hood,” Steph said as she stuffed another syrupy piece into her mouth. She carefully kept her attention on Jay and Cass and not on Danny, who still seemed to be mostly hiding under his mop of black hair at the other side of the table.

“Don’t lie to me,” Jay said. “I know what diner you go to every chance that you get to have waffles. You love those more than mine.”

“No,” Steph whined, looking longingly at the waffle Jay was taking out of the iron right then. “That’s like asking someone to pick between apples and oranges! Or at least oranges and clementines! Diner waffles are working with a whole different set up then your waffles. Those are my favorite diner waffles but yours are my favorite at home waffles. Different things Hood, different things.”

Jay rolled his eyes and handled over the waffle.

Steph took it triumphantly and shot Danny a wink as he covered up his laughter.

“That’s your last one for right now,” Jay said with a pointed jab of his finger. “Danny gets the next one then Cass and then I get to eat some of the damn waffles I’m busy making.”

“Yes, Boss,” Steph chirped and gave a salute with her fork. “How are you liking them, Danny?”

Danny ducked his head back down again, but at least he answered, which was more then Steph had gotten so far. “They’re good. I like them with the fruit.”

“Yeah, that’s the big bad red wolf here trying to get us to be a little more healthy,” Steph said.

“Doesn’t work,” Cass said with that pleased little smile of hers. Steph always loved that smile.

“It sometimes works,” Steph corrected, even if Cass gave a little snort at that.

“They’re good. I missed fresh fruit,” Danny said as he carefully speared another blueberry on top of a precisely cut piece of waffle.

Hell, that made her want to go out and buy Danny a fruit basket. Maybe she would next time she came over. She needed to start earning some points with Danny and he deserved good things.

“Well, luckily Hood will keep you well in stock,” Steph said, making sure her voice stayed cheerful.

“Sure will,” Jason said. “And you can help yourself to the fruit that will be on the counter any time. Your stomach should be good enough now that you can eat pretty freely, just make sure to check with yourself if you’re full before getting seconds or something.”

“Look at Mama Red Hen, in his element,” Steph teased and reached out to catch the piece of fruit she knew would be tossed her way at that statement.

“It’s nice,” Danny mumbled down towards his plate. “Nice to have someone… looking out for things.”

Steph just about melted. “Yeah, it is. You can come to any of us for stuff too. Hood is a real mother hen and Nightwing is pure big sibling energy, but like, O is the best if you need finding things and Red is scarily good at puzzling out a problem. B.B. gives good cuddles and Signal is great when things get too crazy! Robin really protective but not nearly as much as the big Bat himself and Agent A always has what you need.”

Danny looked up at her from under his bangs, blue eyes wide.

“Have we given you a phone yet?” she continued, not knowing what to do with a young Bruce being able to give such good puppy dog eyes. “We need to get you a phone with all our numbers. I’ll have Red get on it, or O. Is O better?”

“Depends on the phone,” Cass pointed out.

Steph nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I’ll ask the group chat I guess what we need for Danny.”

“I don’t, you… Red already gave me a tablet to use.”

“Have to look after you,” Cass explained in that gentle way of hers.

Danny’s gaze darted from Steph to Cass and over to Jason. When that look landed on Jason, it turned to worry in a way that confused Steph. Weren’t they supposed to be reassuring Danny of his continued place with them so that he would talk to the old man?

Jason set another waffle on Danny’s plate. “Told you it wouldn’t change anything.”

“They know?” Danny asked, his voice a rough whisper.

“Yeah, sorry,” Jason said. “With you bleeding like that I needed to explain things to them, not that I know that much. We haven’t exactly gotten back to that talk and there’s no rush to. The point of all this, kid, is that you’ve got us now. Whatever happens, you’ve got us and we’re going to make sure you can always get a hold of us.”

“But you don’t know,” Danny whispered. His grip on his fork was so tight that his knuckles were white and trembling.

Danny flinched when Cass reached out and touched his hand, but he let her unwind his grip from the fork and look the skin over for damage. When she found none, she wrapped it up in her own.

“Look, Danny,” Steph said. “We’re like the worst trio for this. You need like, Nightwing and Signal and O here for that reassuring ‘we’ve got your back’ sorta talk.”

Jason snorted and Steph flapped a hand at him.

“But the thing is,” she continued, “is that the Bats of Gotham have claimed you as theirs now and that means they protect you and care about you. It’s okay whatever we don’t know cause trust me, we have all fucked up pretty big at times, but we’re still Bats and everyone still has our backs. So, I get that we might have some convos ahead of us that are scary for you, talking sucks, but that’s not going to change shit.”

“But you’re, aren’t you…. I’ve read about you on the tablet. Lots think Bruce Wayne funds you. What if he tells me to get out?”

Jason scoffed loudly. “Yeah, no, he doesn’t control us like that.”

“He is nice,” Cass said, “bad at emotions, but nice. He will like you too.”

Danny rubbed his free hand over his eyes. “How can you know?”

“Because you are you,” Cass said simply. From here it sounded like an iron clad fact.

Danny just sniffled.

“Come on, waffles before they get cold,” Jason ordered.

Steph figured maybe they should talk about things more, but they really weren’t the group to do talking, at least not about anything important. She’d let Dick know Danny needed the reassurance though for when he came to the apartment. Even as good as Dick was at playing big brother, Steph didn’t really think that Danny would feel alright until he met Bruce. Somehow, they’d have to convince him that it was time.

---

AN: And we are back by vote with the first part of the next chapter! Sorry for the long delay, but life really was kicking me while I was down. And now I have a cold(?) so you know, expect typos. But Steph finally makes a showing! That means the horde of bat siblings have all met Danny. I wonder what's coming up next...?

Stay delightful, darlings!

[takumiraine]

Once Upon A Time Chapter 2

<prev> <next>

So Danny? 100% has PTSD. I do have a vague plan for this. And most of the next chap written. The Fentons may or may not be terrible parents. You’ll have to wait and see. I do have plans to break everyone’s hearts at least once. Anyways. This is considered my like…. Audience test before Ao3. Things may change. As a reminder all I know about dc is from fandom and wiki and everything I remember about dp is prob poorly remembered.

—

Once upon a time, there had been a young boy who was happy. Once upon a time, there was a young boy who had dreams and a future. Once upon a time, there was a boy who had been alive in every sense of the word. Once upon a time, everything shattered. Once upon a time, there was a man who was filled with anger. Once upon a time, there was a man just as alive as he was dead. Once upon a time, there was a man who was haunted and hunted.

As the stabbed kid shuffled off, leaving Jason baffled, he grabbed the guy who he had slammed into the wall. His head was bleeding but his breathing was steady and Jason huffed. He knew he definitely cracked the guy’s skull, but he had survived worse.

“O, what do we know on this guy?” He asked the woman in his ear. Oracle’s answer would determine whether he took the guy in to the ER or let him roll the dice of fate.

“Rap sheet about a mile long. Pretty basic stuff. Armed robbery, possession with intent, B&Es, assault and battery, the usual.”

Jason shrugged then and dropped the guy against the wall. Rolling the dice it was. He turned away, looking towards where the kid disappeared around the corner “and what about the guy he was mugging?”

“That’s where it gets weird.” Oracle’s typing was coming through loud and clear. “It’s hard to get a clear picture of him. He has some sort of distortion on the feed. Everything else comes out clear but…. He’s a mess of pixels. Voice too. Scrambled. It’ll take time.”

“Think he’s a meta?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me, considering he got knifed and just…. Walked off with it. Wonder what his issue with B is though.”

“Couldn’t tell you. Think it might be time to update my armor if I’m being lumped in with people B and the bird brains have pissed off.” Jason took an evidence kit out of his pocket and swiped at the blood on his chest. Old habits and all. “Got a sample of the kid’s blood though.”

“Good thinking. Wonder if he’s in any databases. I’ve got a cleaned up picture now. Enough that it’s pinging in GU’s database. Dan Nightingale, Mechanical engineering major. It says he’s 19, it’s his freshman year and he’s in like every remedial class he can take, high school transcripts are mediocre at best. No other information about him really. Rogue in the making that one.” Oracle reported. Jason groaned, grapneling up to the rooftops to follow where the kid went off to.

“Someone should keep an eye on him. Ugh. This’ll be a conversation for B and the birds won’t it? Kid won’t like having a bunch of birds following him.” Jason flicked through the different visual modes on his visor, finding…. Cold moving through one of the apartment buildings. It was human shaped, but where he expected to find heat…. “Weird…. You seeing this?”

“Very weird,” Barbara agreed, tapping into his visor’s feed. “And hey, you could just…. Not tell him. You wanted a Lit degree right? Go to class, befriend him. Do some recon.” Jason knew Babs always walked the fine line between what Bruce needed to know about the rest of them and what she had to keep secret to keep helping them. He didn’t envy her position. Jason still wanted Bruce to hurt sometimes. Not as much as he used to, something about the sins of the father and all that. He just wanted Bruce to be aware that everything he had ever hoped for his boy to be was… out of both of their reaches forever.

“That sounds annoying.” He was 23. He didn’t have any interest in taking on a degree on top of his full time crime fighting and criminal empire running jobs.

“Yeah, but what other choice do you have? It’s go back to school, tell B, or wait for him to become a rogue.”

“I hate you sometimes.” He muttered, unsure of what made him suddenly so interested in that angry guy.

“Feeling’s mutual Hood,” She replied with what was definitely a fond tone. He grimaced.

—-

In the apartment, Danny was less than thrilled. That was his favorite shirt! Now not only was it covered in blood, it had a huge hole in it. His core still thrummed with the urge to fight, but he tamped it down. Slowly, as he pulled the knife out, he sealed the wound with a layer of ice, pulling his shirt off and throwing it into the bathroom sink. The knife was dropped into the kitchen sink. His keys and phone in his bedroom on the battered nightstand next to the bed.

He returned to the bathroom and turned the water on cold. He let it spray full blast before working on scrubbing the blood from his shirt. He looked up to eye himself critically in the mirror before noticing the waistband of his jeans were saturated with blood too. Damn it. He kicked off his shoes and pulled his pants off, throwing them into the now overfilled sink. The bathtub would probably be a better choice. Turning off the sink and turning on the tub Danny picked up the sopping clothes and dropped them with a wet thump into the basin of the tub. Carefully he lowered himself onto the floor, wincing at the way pain clawed through him.

He would need to actually eat food to heal from this at any reasonable speed. He thought of the two dollars he had, then the emergency stash of….he racked his brain to remember how much of the emergency cash he was left with once he got to Gotham…right. Twenty bucks…. That was all he had in the wall.

He missed the days when Sam would just throw money at him whenever his parents forgot to do things like pay rent or put food in the fridge.

As if agreeing his stomach rumbled loudly, demanding actual food to sate the expense of energy healing his injury would take. He thought about calling Sam. Seeing if she could arrange a prepaid card for him. He knew she would in a heartbeat.

Even cut off from family money she seemed to be doing better than he was. Wracking his brain, Danny thought she was working in Bludhaven as some sort of personal assistant. He wasn’t sure if it was the exhaustion that came from sustaining a human body on nothing but ecto or if he had been too distracted in the moment to pay proper attention, but he couldn’t remember if that was right. Getting the blood out of his clothes he wiped at the remaining blood on his body, getting most of it off. He grabbed the clothes and turned off the water.

Slowly, Danny pushed himself to his feet. He had survived worse, multiple times. But pain never seemed to stop being painful. It lanced through his side and he almost fell back to his knees with the way it stole his breath and doubled him over. He wished he could go back to the Zone and just… wait it out. But in order to do that without drawing attention he’d need a portal. The only ones he knew of were either destroyed or…. Compromised.

Maybe he should call Vlad. Danny shook that thought away almost immediately as he realized how silly it was. Vlad spent most of his teen years antagonizing him. Besides the GIW had probably gotten to Vlad too. If he wasn’t captured he would likely be compromised. Memories of Amity Park flooded in before Danny could stop them. Of asking for help. Over and over. Of the GIW storming in and locking everything down. Of Danny frantically telling his parents, only for their eyes to dart to the kitchen before they could stop it. Of the sound of energy. The smell of his flesh burning. Of pain.

Danny forced himself to take a breath. He focused on the wet clothes in his hands. On the tiles beneath his feet. Of the too harsh fluorescents in the bathroom that buzzed. The sounds of the people above him arguing over bills and needing better jobs.

Slowly he banished the memories back where they belonged. He’d… figure it out. He had to. Somehow. For now, sleep. Danny hung up the wet clothes over the shower bar, made sure there was a towel on the floor and shuffled into the bedroom. Double checking that his alarm was set, even though his class wasn’t until early afternoon, he didn’t want to miss it, he slid into his bed and pulled the pile of blankets up over him.

Almost instantly, he was out.

—-

“B,” Jason said in lieu of a proper greeting as he stepped into the Batcave, hood tucked under his arm.

“Jason,” Bruce looked up and turned the surprised expression into something more fond. “To what do I owe the visit?”

Jason leaned against the rock. Foot braced against the wall. “I know semester’s already started, but something came up. How hard would it be to start at GU?”

Bruce stared at him for a long moment and Jason knew it was his way of trying to figure out what buttons to press. Then he tilted his head and turned back to the computer screen. “Not too hard. It is early yet. Anything I should know?”

“Babs was lonely.” It was an out and out lie, but it seemed to soften things in Bruce further, reminding him of the two children that failed him within months of each other.

“Hm.” Bruce was silent at his computer for a long moment. Convinced that was the end of the conversation, Jason tightened his grip on the helmet he had tucked under his arm. “Either way. It is a good choice. Literature?”

The comment and question rankled Jason, the thing from the pit scratching at his carefully contained emotions. Pushing for any crack. Bruce was trying he reminded himself. Too little too late, but trying.

“Yeah. Going in in the morning.”

“Should I call ahead?”

“No. I can handle it. If not I have no business being there.”

“You will do fine.” The ‘you are a Wayne’ was left unspoken.

Jason snorted. “Right. Good talk.”

“Are you staying the night?” An olive branch. Jason wanted to burn it. He tempered the impulse to a spark.

“I have my own place.”

“Your room is still yours when you want it.”

“Yeah. The room of the worst Robin in history. Pass.” Jason turned and walked stiffly back up the steps. Hearing the soft growl of Batman behind him. The start of an argument.

He considered it a victory that he didn’t run into any of his siblings or Alfred on the way out.

[fcthots]

I log onto tumblr sometimes just to see your posts lol, and I love all the smut content, but I was wondering of you’d write something for a reader who isn’t feeling up to having sex one night, and they’re worried about how Jason will react but instead of being pushy about it Jason just cuddles the reader and affirms that they’re valid?

(I might be going through it a bit and feel this would be nice to read)

Thank you!! Also I think I needed this too lol

He was running on that post patrol adrenaline rush that leaves him looking for any outlet of release. Usually one in particular. You. He comes in through the window of the living room and lets his boots thudding on the ground be your warning. Before he even closes the window, his helmet is taken off his head and dropped to the carpet. He’s usually so careful about his precious equipment but desperate times call for desperate measures.

The clatter of his helmet is loud, much louder than his boots. You can hear it from under the water of your bath. You lift your head above water, and by the time you clear the water from your eyes, he’s standing in the doorway. His chest is heaving. You can see the tight coils of his fists, the lines of tension in the shoulders, the clench of his jaw. You know what he’s looking for.

But tonight isn’t the night for that.

You don’t stop him when he kneels on the ground by the tub and takes your dripping face between his hands, or when he kisses you with the enthusiasm of a starved man. His hands trail from your face to your neck and then trail down your collarbones, and down more. You pull away.

His hands stop. His face tilts like a confused puppy. There is a slight worry in his eyes, and unspoken what happened.

The words are hard to find. “I don’t um. I don’t think we should-. Maybe it would be-.” His hands trail down to yours. He holds them in his and gives a light squeeze, an encouragement, a go on. “I just don’t quite feel up to it tonight.”

He gives you a small smile, one reserved for you and you only. He gives your hand a gentle kiss, and then your cheek. “Ok. That’s alright. Ain’t nothing wrong with that.”

You search his eyes for any sign that he might be lying. You can’t find any but just to be safe, you ask, “are you sure?”

He tilts his head again and smiles. “Of course I’m sure.” He moves his body to make himself more comfortable sitting on the ground. He brings his elbow to the lip of the tub and rests his chin on his hand. “So what have you been up to while I was gone?” The easiness of the question makes you feel a little warm and fuzzy. There’s just something about the casual tone in which he says it, like he wasn’t planning to fuck you not even five minutes ago.

“I’ve just been in the bath.” You swirl some of the water around for emphasis. His nose scrunches when a few droplets of water hit his face. You try to hide your laugh.

“The whole time?” You were hoping he wouldn’t ask. You’ve had to rerun the water a few times after it got cold. You just couldn’t get yourself to get started for some reason.

“Yeah.” You watch the calculating and searching look in his eyes. He doesn’t ask why. You don’t want to explain, not right now.

“Do you want me to wash you? I don’t mind. If you’re ok with it that is.” He moves to sit on the lip of the tub. You just watch him.

“You wouldn’t mind?” He’s already answered the question, but doubt lingers in the back of your mind.

“I’d be happy to. My hands really need something to do right now. Washing your hair would help.”

You smile and nod as you bring your knees to your chest. You wrap your arms around them and drop your head down to watch him reach for the shampoo. Maybe it was something in his training, but that man is incredible at scalp massages.

[starrydali]

Engraved in My Heart - Leo Valdez

*ੈ✩‧₊˚✧˖*°࿐ Leo Valdez can't stop thinking about you. Even when he's building or fixing things you're always on his mind. This leads him to develop the habit of carving your name on everything he makes from blueprints to the literal Argo II ship. Anyone on the ship can see just how obsessed he is with you as your name is literally written on every wall and under every table. He doesn't even realize what he's doing anymore, you're just always on his mind. ✧. ┊ 

part 2

Percy is the first to notice, while checking the engine room Percy leans over a section of the ship's mechanics and spots a little "Y/n" etched into the side of the ship.

Percy: "Y/n? Really, Leo?"

Jason: "What's up?"

Percy: (gesturing to the engraving) "Leo's been busy. I'm pretty sure he's carved her name into half this ship."

Jason squints at the spot, then smirks "Let me guess, this is about Y/n?"

Percy: "You notice he's like... obsessed?"

Jason: "Yeah, but I thought it was in a flirting as a joke way, you know? Guess it's more in a hopeless romantic way.

Jason is helping Leo in the workshop, picking through tools when he notices something strange. He holds up a wrench with "Y/n" engraved along the handle in fancy writing.

Jason: (holding it up) “Hey Leo, do all your tools come with this customization, or is it just this one?” he teases.

Leo: "Hey! That's my lucky wrench. You wouldn't get it.”

Jason: “So you do think of her every time you fix something?”

Leo: "What can I say? She inspires me. Maybe you should try it sometime- it might improve your flying”

Jason rolls his eyes, but when he picks up the screwdriver he notices another tiny engraving of her name surrounded by hearts.

Jason: "It's on the screwdriver too? Man, you've got it bad"

Percy’s examining part of the ship when he spots “Y/n” faintly carved into one of the panels.

Percy: “Uh, Leo? Why does this look like you wrote your girlfriend’s name on the ship?”

Leo: (leaning casually against the wall) “What? You like it? Adds character. And she’s not my girlfriend... yet. ”

Percy: “More like it screams 'obsessed boyfriend'”

Leo: "I prefer 'dedicated artist'"

Annabeth: (walking by): “Leo, you’re unbelievable. This is how you show affection? Carving her name into every available surface?”

Leo: (grinning) “I don’t know, I think it’s pretty romantic.”

Annabeth: (deadpan) “If you say so. I’m just surprised there’s not a neon sign that says ‘I’m in love with Y/n.’”

Leo: “That’s next.”

Percy: "Uh, Annabeth, is it just me, or does this wheel have ‘Y/n’ carved into it like... seven times?"

Annabeth squints at the ship's wheel. "No, you're right. Seven times, in different fonts."

Percy, grinning: "I don’t even know if Leo realizes he’s doing it anymore."

Annabeth was looking over some of Leo's blueprints while the ship was being built and her eyes caught on the name "Y/n" written over and over in the margins surrounded by doodles of stars and hearts.

Annabeth: "Leo, really? Your blueprints have her name on them too?"

Leo: (grinning) "Well, she's my muse, what can I say i'm always thinking about her"

Annabeth: (raising an eyebrow) "I thought your muse was fire and explosions".

Leo: "Hey Y/n's got that effect on me too"

Annabeth: (sighing) "Your insane Leo"

Leo: "Yeah insanely in love with her."

Piper runs her fingers over some carvings on the dining table during breakfast.

Piper: "Y/n. Y/n. Oh look, another Y/n." She smirks. "Honestly, it’s cute. He's like a lovesick poet with a pocketknife."

Annabeth: "Cute until it’s literally everywhere. Look at this chair leg!" She holds it up to show ‘Y/n’ scratched into the wood.

Piper: "I’m starting to think we’re all living in Leo’s giant love letter."

Percy, climbing up the ladder: "What the heck? Y/n's name is carved into every single rung!"

Leo, overhearing: "Yeah, so? Keeps me focused."

Percy: "Focused on what? Your undying love?"

Leo winks: "Exactly."

Jason pulls out his celestial bronze shield during a fight, only to spot something unusual on the rim. As he turns it over he sees "Y/n" carved neatly into the metal.

Jason: (yelling over the chaos) "Leo. Did you personalize my shield with your crush’s name?"

Leo: "Technically, it’s not personalizing. It’s branding."

Percy, laughing: "You’re like a lovesick graffiti artist."

Leo: "Whatever if it doesn't have her name on it than I don't trust it will work!"

Jason: "Your obsessed"

✧. ┊ Send requests! :)

[aryxchse]

the hot lifeguard. | percy jackson x daughter of hera! reader.

a / n : no one's requesting for my husband so i simp for him on my own (and with my girl annabeth chase ofc)

warnings ; cursing, you being a simp (totally not inspired from me), him being a simp, maybe nsfw mentions idk just horny teens, hot percy jackson, my baby annabeth because she's too cute for you to handle, ALSO LONG ASS FIC WTF, well you know me, i'm a sucker for daughter of hera trope

having a crush on percy jackson was normal in the campers.

he was hot, powerful, funny, sarcastic, kind, loyal, and believe me, the list goes on.

so when he started working as a lifeguard in the camp, suddenly everyone was in the water. he, the little shit he is, surfed once in a while too, to give a little show to the girls and boys. he was the aphrodite cabin's precious, which piper was disgusted. but he was proud.

today was another day for the camp to be at lake, swimming. annabeth dragged you out from the peaceful hera cabin, saying that you should at least get in the water to survive this hot weather. even though you wanted to stay inside, she was right, like always. the weather was hot and you started to get embarresed from the amount of times you asked jason to create a wind for you.

now you were going to use percy's element to cool down, which is, your secret crush.

"having a crush on percy isn't bad as you think." annabeth said quietly, carrying her and your beach bags. you, who was carrying the snacks and your surfboard, sighed. "oh yeah? i'm literally in a fucking cult annabeth. the 'i-have-a-crush-on-percy-too' cult. and believe me, there's so many of us."

annabeth laughed at you and found a good spot while you were rambling. she put the bags down on the sand and pulled out a blue picnic blanket to claim the area.

"i know the cult, i was a member of it when i was like, 12." she joked, now putting the bags on top of the blanket to keep it in place. "then i left, realising i wasn't really in the cult."

you smirked at her as you took off your big camp shirt, laying on the blanket with your matched blue bikini. "see? you should know what i feel."

annabeth shrugged, taking off her own camp shirt, leaving herself with her yellow swimsuit. "not really." she said. "besides, there's no one like you in the cult. you're quite famous yourself."

you raised an eyebrow at her, taking a lemonade from the little fridge standed beside you. "how so, blondie?" you asked, taking a sip.

"well, you're the only daughter of the famous hera, and literally the definition of good. everyone knows and loves you, you're always helping people. the little kids call you mom sometimes for gods' sake." she explained, and you chuckled.

"what's that have to do with percy?" you asked as you grabbed a diet coke from the fridge. annabeth groaned, taking the diet coke from your hand. "what i'm trying to say is, you probably have his attention already. you're as famous as him and you're literally gorgeous."

you 'awww'ed at annabeth which she gagged playfully. you left a kiss to her cheek. "thanks annie, but i'm only successful at being little boys first love. not getting the famous percy jackson's attention."

annabeth groaned louder, laying on her back. "man, people talk about the skinny white boy like he's some god." she said. "when he was twelve, he was basically a loser."

you laughed at her and stood up, taking your surfboard. "how nice of you to talk about him like that." you joked, and annabeth made thumbs up to you. "anyways babe, i'll surf a little. there's a lotta good waves goin' on right now."

annabeth looked at the ocean and sighed. "you sure? it looks dangerous today." she said, and you only giggled at her worries. "oh please, you know i'm good at surfing as much as percy."

"yeah, sure. don't let piper hear that'." annabeth yelled after you as you walked away. you waved at her without turning back.

you looked around a bit. the apollo kids was blasting music in the food corner, which was now full of demigods. dionysus kids was making cocktails without the alcohol, because their dad's were watching them. chiron was just chilling next to mr d, a sunglass on his face, and the aphrodite kids was playing beach volleyball with the demeter kids.

then you looked at the right. oh, there he was.

percy jackson, sitted on the guard chair -you really didn't know what it's called- with that tan and muscular body of his. he had a sunglass on his face and an ice cream stick in his mouth. he lazily swinged his feet once in a while, and the blue shorts of his were looking so damn good on him. the red whistle hanged around on his bare chest, not that he touched it often.

you stopped staring when a girl accidently bumped you, apologising right after it. you smiled and said it was nothing, internally thanking the girl for making you turn back to life again. you were damn sure annabeth was making fun of you.

little thing you didn't know that percy, was observing you in that blue bikini, behind his sunglasses. what do you think was the reason of him wearing them? to be cool? nah, he doesn't even need those to be cool. he's just watching you secretly. you, didn't had any idea you were making an eye contact with him until that girl bumped to you.

he watched you dive in the water like you were poseidon's champion or something, getting on that white surfboard of yours like a damn model. percy felt like he was drooling at the sight, which he probably was.

he was snapped out of his gaze with mr d yelling at him. man, you were just about to bend over and stand up on that board.

"yes, mr d?" he said lazily, rolling his eyes behind the sunglasses.

"this little shit needs to find the bathroom, go show him." mr d pointed some little boy who was holding his shorts like his life depended on it. percy jumped down from his seat like it wasn't 2 feet tall, and smiled at the boy.

"don't mind him, he's an old man who's angry he can't drink." he said to the boy, ruffling his hair. the boy only nodded. "i don't really care anyway, i just need to pee."

percy chuckled as he picked the little boy in his arms, already taking him to the bathroom. "i'll carry you little fella. just be careful not to pee on me."

"i won't, thank you percy." the little boy said. percy wasn't suprised that he knew his name. "no problem. what's your name kid?"

"peter." he said. percy chuckled again. "yeah? mr d used to call me peter. he still does sometimes."

the little boy laughed as percy entered the bathroom. "really? so that's why he calls me percy sometimes." he said, forgetting he had to pee. percy smiled. "probably. go and let go all your pee boy, i'll be back on busin-"

he couldn't finish his sentence when annabeth rushed to the boys bathroom. "percy!" she yelled.

percy turned around to look at annabeth and smiled. "hey 'beth, nice to see you. not a really good spot for meeting don't ya thi-"

"there's no time for joking seaweed brain! she's fucking drowning!" she yelled at him. percy immediatly took of his glasses as they already start running towards the ocean.

"who?" he asked.

"y/n! you know her right?" annabeth said breathlessly.

of course he did, he fucking adored her. percy's worry only growed when he saw how big those waves were. the demigod's were already in panic as they looked at the sea. chiron called percy and said that the daughter of hera needed to be saved immediatly. percy didn't even stopped to listen to chiron as he dive into the water.

you thought you could handle it, or at least swim up and sit on your board. but no, poseidon was definetly in a bad mood, and he was taking his anger out from you, probably.

as you lost your balance and fell into the water, you didn't panicked and started swimming as usual. but big and strong waves hit you back and forth, until you were tired, swallowed too many water and fainted.

when you opened your eyes, you thought you were in elysium. or it was just some another version of the little mermaid.

percy smiled at you as you opened your eyes, his big hands cupping your face. he was panting, not because he was tired from all the swimming, no. he was panting because he fight with the thought of losing you for the past five minutes as he worked on getting out the water you swallowed.

"there you are, breath honey. can you do that?" he asked, and you caughed a bit. you nodded softly as he lifted you until you sat up, his strong arms still supporting your back.

you looked around, there was only the two of you, the crowd was long gone. you looked at percy again as your hand find it's way to your forehead. "what happened?" you asked.

"nothin' to worry about angel, just some big waves." he explained, caressing your back softly. you let your body rest on his chest, sighing as you remembered what happened.

"didn't thought the waves would get this crazy." you said, voice still hoarse as you caughed again. percy nodded as he patted your back. "me either."

after a minute of silence, percy finally speaked up again. "i... i'm sorry i was late, i took this little kid called peter to the bathroom because mr d asked me to, i swear i'd help you quicker if i didn-"

"percy, hey, it's okay." you shushed him, your hand caressing his arm. "you already saved my life."

percy nodded again. "yeah i know, i know. but i just," he sighed. "i don't know what i'd do if i lost you before i even asked you out."

you giggled to his chest. "yeah? you were gonna ask me out? when?" he smiled into your hair.

"today. been watching you for sometime now."

"creep." you joked.

"observing beauty, i'd say." he said, smirking.

you sat straight and looked deep into his eyes, which now matched with the color of the sea.

"i'd love to grab some lemonade with you, as a way of thanking you i guess." you said as you smirked back at him. percy chuckled as his hand caressed your cheek.

"who am i to refuse a sweet thank you, right?"

[cynassa]

we were twenty for such a short time

Nightwing found him. It unnerved him, because he hadn't expected to. Red Hood was sitting on a crumbling ledge, helmet off, cigarette stuck in the corner of his mouth. He didn't look like he was out of his mind, or going to go for a gun or knife.

"Why'd you do it?" Nightwing asked, carefully maneuvering himself out of the way of the heavy-looking desk that could be flung at him.

Red Hood grunted. "Don't suppose you've got antiseptic in there somewhere?"

Nightwing shrugged, letting it ripple all over him, where, it should be eminently clear, there was no place for a first-aid kit.

"Figures," Red Hood muttered.

Nightwing set his hip against the wall, not close enough to get in range of Hood's vicious front kick, but close enough to throw an electrified escrima stick at him if necessary. Black Bat was ten minutes away, as was Robin with the Batmobile. Ideally they would get this sorted before Batman was finished and could become involved. He just had to stall for ten - no, nine minutes now. With an on-edge Hood who had killed - no, executed - executed three people.

Hood nodded at the table.

Nightwing raised an eyebrow.

"Why I did it," Hood said. "Since you asked. I'd offer tea and scones with 'em but whoopsy, seems like I'm all out."

A quick flick of his eyes showed three neat nondescript folders. He'd have to put his back to Hood to read them.

Eight minutes.

"Not much of a reader, me," Nightwing drawled. "Why don't you give me the Sparknotes version?"

Hood snorted. He finally lit the cigarette. "Cappello's wife begged me to," he said.

Nightwing tensed.

"Had a porn ring, she said. He's a cop though, so she couldn't get away. Then her girl got old enough to contribute and she just wanted him dead," he said, sounding... exhausted. "Watson was a pimp too. The women told me that he was okay for a bit and then he got greedy and things got worse. Tried putting the fear of Hood into him at first but he'd heard that I was with the Bats, so he just beat them to shut them up after I left. Had some Family connections too, FBI fuckers wouldn't touch him."

He stopped, took a puff at his cigarette.

Seven minutes

Dick was abruptly tired. The Rogues were one thing. But this. These horrors of America's crime capital were unending. A man could die trying to hold them up.

"And Stewart? He was in jail," Dick said.

Jason smoked his cigarette slowly. It was a Marlboro Red Long. Still the same cigarette.

Six minutes

"Stewart, Danny M.," Jason said. "He'd been in juvie, you know? Got off after three months on 'count of good behavior. Kept the connections though. Plenty of connections in his jail too, enough to keep his little racket in the juvies running. And who cares if some street rat with a record goes missing from time to time. Mayor probably called it housekeeping when he took the money from him."

"And so it's got to be you who actually cleans house instead?" Dick asked, wishing he could throw his sticks at Jason, wishing he could put them down and- and?

"Who else do they got?" Jason asked, squinting at Dick. "I tried doing it the other way for a bit, y'know," he said, almost sympathetically.

"Right," Dick said. "For all of five minutes."

Five minutes

Jason shrugged. "Bit more'n that. But yeah, people would come to me and beg me to help them, rescue them, and I'd get these fuckers sent to places that would -- like, pedos don't last long in jail, y'get me? Or sometimes I'd just bribe the jail catering to give them something. But then people stopped being afraid of me, and it all got worse. Twice the effort for less than half the results. I didn't have any control over the trades here anymore, arms trafficking had gone up, they'd started human trafficking again."

Jason had just been killing people anyway. Of course he had.

"You thought that was the other way? Bribing other people to kill..." Dick wanted to bash his face in. "You thought that was right?"

"I'm not the one who does the right thing," Jason said. "That's on you, Big Bird. I'm just the one filling in the gaps the light doesn't reach."

"That's an easy fucking excuse," Dick bit out.

Four minutes

"All these people suffering, and I was sitting with my thumbs up my ass because I wanted a family, while they were losing theirs, how was that right?" Jason continued, like he hadn't heard Dick. "I'd been brought back to do one job, and I couldn't do it, because I was desperate to--" there was a tear at the end of one eye.

"That's not-" Dick gasped, "this isn't what you were brought back for! That's not true."

Jason shook his head. "You don't know that. You don't know how I was brought back."

"Neither do you!" Dick snarled at this nonsense, now wishing he really had just bashed his head in.

"Nah, but I know what it was for," Jason said, oddly peaceable. "I know what I gotta do, and then I can die."

"You can still stop," Dick pleaded, afraid suddenly, of something he couldn't name.

Three minutes

"Nah," Jason said, sad but placid. "There ain't no way but this for me anymore. Sorry, Big Bird. I'll miss you though. I'll miss most of you, I think."

"And now I've got to bring you in," Dick said, voice cracking. "Did you think of that? That now I've got to-"

"Can't let you do that, 'm afraid, still got a job to do," Jason said, half-smile on his face, turning to him finally, pushing off the ledge and moving forward, dropping the cigarette on the table.

Two minutes

Dick squeezed his sticks but didn't raise them. Jason moved swiftly, grabbing his face roughly and leaning down - because he was taller now, because he wasn't the little wing yearning to reach five foot, because he had died - to roughly kiss Dick's forehead. "Take care of yourself, Robin," he whispered and then shoved Dick back.

Dick had tensed in preparation but was still shoved back by Jason's sheer strength. By the time he leapt forward, Jason had thrown himself out of the window. The red Bat wasn't on his armor anymore.

Dick glanced out of the window just long enough to see Jason tumbling into a red moving truck. Then he sensed something and abruptly looked up to see the cigarette had lit up the files unnaturally well, as if they already had a flammable coating. This seemed to trigger some other mechanism, and the building slowly started going down - making a groaning noise as if in warning.

One minute

Dick unhooked his grapple and dived out, landing lightly on the Batmobile as the building slowly but surely came crashing down, so thoroughly destroyed that there was no way anything could be rebuilt again.

I give you back 1948.   

I give you all the years from then

to the coming one. Give me back the moon   

with its frail light falling across a face.

Give me back my young brother, hard

and furious, with wide shoulders and a curse   

for God and burning eyes that look upon   

all creation and say, You can have it.

[aezuria]

*ੈ✎ xoxo, gossip girl!

content: leo valdez x reader, percy jackson x reader, jason grace x reader

╰┈▸ back cover: how would gossip sessions with them go?

warnings: cursing, rude humor??

librarian's annotations: doing this instead of requests um

*ੈ LEO VALDEZ

SASSY MAN APOCALYPSE

god hes probably talking shit more than u

"oh her? yeah she was such a bitch like no way she looked at you like that when i said i was so obviously taken!"

"and her hair? has she ever heard of a brush? like, if you're gonna come at my girlfriend, at least make yourself look better so you don't embarrass yourself. oh wait, you can't!"

probably laying on you as he does this, and starts squeezing you tightly

"because my girlfriend is the prettiest girl in the world!"

awww that's cute right?

WRONG this man is so quick with his comebacks its actually insane

does NOT think before he speaks

doesnt hold back, even against you (booo why did ur gf privileges not apply to that)

"leo! can you like, move your fat ass off me?" you groan under him as he lays down with his dead weight on top of you.

"like the fat ass you don't have?"

were you silent or SILENCED

everytime you think he wouldnt take it that far?? oh he will go THERE (but he always makes sure u know hes joking)

doesnt want to invoke your wrath so he apologizes IMMEDIATELY

"fix your hair-"

"fix your face- IM SORRY I DIDNT MEAN TO-"

*ੈ PERCY JACKSON

guys. we cant forget abt the OG SASSY MAN

also talking shit a whole lot more than he should

"uh, she needs to get her act together before she can start coming at others; like-" rolls his eyes for EMPHASIS "who does she think she is, talking to you like that?"

damn, who taught this man sass?

bro was BORN with it or smth

even outsasses you sometimes

if you tell him to get like a snack or something and hes in the mood to just lay down with you, he will huff SO loudly

"ugh, fine!"

gets you extra snacks anyway in case you want more (and drinks obviously)

SO SO INVESTED like he has the WHOLE story down

but sometimes mixes up the ppl if its been a while

"wait wait, so the library girl and the jock are dating?"

"the nerd and the library girl are dating, but the jock wanted library girl."

"that makes a lot of sense, actually."

has tea of his OWN because the sea knows everything apparently

"tobias told me-" percy started.

"who the fuck is tobias?"

"the turtle, duh. anyway, he said that this guy always takes girls to the beach on their first date, to make them fall in love with him or something. like, every single girl he's dated."

"...does that count as a manipulation tactic?"

*ੈ JASON GRACE

will be on your side no matter what

like if you end it with an "it is what it is"

um??? it is NOT what it is hello?

doesnt look like hes listening but hes paying attention to EVERYTHING

like hes "reading" a book but hes been on the same page for the entire time youve been talking

tries not to laugh at your rather creative insults, but sometimes you get a soft chuckle out of him

you take that as a win

once, you caught him listening through the door as you gossiped with piper over the phone

he was SO embarrassed omg

after that, you made sure to tell him all the tea as soon as you have it

"—and he cheated on her with her SISTER. who's like, three years younger than him! like, what the fuck? that's not even all he did!" you sit up, hands playing with the blanket. you think you see him lean a bit closer, as if wanting to hear more. "she fucked his brother in his room, like, her ex boyfriend's room for revenge! okay, that was a bitch move, but was it deserved?"

jason shrugged. "i'd say no one deserves to be cheated on, but he kinda did deserve it."

"exactly!"

[saylorsaysstop]

Cuddling | Bat Boys

The biggest question on everyone's mind is how do the crime-stopping vigilantes of Gotham City like to cuddle?

↪ My Masterlist

BRUCE WAYNE 🖤

"Brucie," you smile up at him from your spot in the middle of the king-sized bed, the television playing some show you found on a streaming service. Your eyes skated across your fiancé's large back, the muscles rippling before your eyes.

"Yeah?" He called out to him, running a hand through his black hair. His entire body ached from tonight's mishap and he didn't have to tell you about it. The look was written all over his face.

"C'mere," you extend your hands. "Come cuddle with me."

Bruce chuckled quietly. He wasn't a man who would use the term cuddle but even he wasn't going to deny that being in your arms sounded nice, especially after the night he had. "You should be asleep." He scolds you gently, making his way over after stripping to his boxers.

You smirk and open your arms, feeling as the massive weight of Bruce's body crushes you. A tiny squeak leaves your mouth at the pressure and Bruce quickly accommodates. Sometimes it was scary just how defined Bruce's body was. He had lines of muscle and curves in places you could only pin to imagination. Staring at him unclothed and in his true nature– never failed to steal your breath away.

"Don't start with me... You look like hell." You smirk, your fingertips curling around the strands of hair. You opened your legs a little more to give him some room and slowly, Bruce resumed his position with his scarred-up cheek laying directly against your stomach. He curled his arms around your frame and actually nuzzled into you.

"See? Even the Batman needs to be cuddled..." You whisper, kissing the crown of his head as your fingertips begin their descent along his spine.

"Don't you... Tell the boys about this." Bruce says, a wave of sleepiness overcoming him, much quicker than it had these last few nights.

And he knew exactly why it was easier tonight.

DICK GRAYSON 💙

"BABE!" Dick screamed from upstairs. You nearly dropped your phone at the frantic tone in his voice. You took the stairs two at a time until you reached the top and swerved to find the bedroom door sprung open.

"What?! What's wrong?!" You erupt, gripping the doorknob. But when you were met with the sight of a perfectly fine Dick Grayson, you grumbled a curse word. Your boyfriend walks over to you, his smile widening.

"You came pretty fast. Worried about me?" he smirks, deliciously skimming his fingertips over your bare shoulders before hoisting you to him with his hand on the small of your back. You try to push him off of you but it's no use.

"I should worry about my constant belief that every time you scream, something is wrong." You grimace, giving up on trying to escape his hold. "What do you want?"

Dick grins mercilessly and wraps his arms around you. In one swift motion, he has you in the air, the next your back is hitting the soft mattress. He never takes his arms from around you. Before you have time to question his motives, Dick's hard chest is pressing firmly against your back, and his warm lips are decorating the back of your neck with sweet kisses, meanwhile his arms remain locked around your midsection.

"You screamed... For a cuddle?" You giggle.

"I could go for screaming about something else if you're in the mood... But yes. I just wanted to hold you. That so bad, sweet girl?" Dick purrs against your ear, nipping your earlobe which sends a shock of electricity down your spine.

"No funny business, Dick." You smirk, laying your hands over his.

JASON TODD ❤️

He came inside wordlessly. With his helmet tucked under his arm and his leather jacket hitting the floor with a thud, you lift your eyes from your book to see a bruised and battered Jason Todd. His eyes scan the room and relief washes over him when he sees you cuddled in the sheets.

"Jaybird?" You close your book. He takes his boots off and walks over. Without a word, Jason crawls up the length of the bed until he's beside you. He wraps a strong arm around you and turns your chest to face his. "Hey, what is it?"

Jason shakes his head. "It was a rather... Complicated night. Everything's fine. Everyone's okay. But can I just hold you?" He asks, stroking his thumb over your cheek, his gaze deep with yours.

You won't ever deny him that. You know on harder nights, Jason uses cuddling as a means to exude his emotions that he'd rather not talk about.

"Of course, baby." You smile. Jason smiles in return and leans down to peck your lips.

"Thanks, baby girl." He cradles the back of your head to his neck and you smother yourself in smoke, leather, and cologne. Jason smelled wonderful. You wrap your arms and tangle your legs through his, feeling as Jason squeezes you tightly in his arms, his lips skimming your skin every so often.

He dances his fingers up and down your back and before the night grows older, Jason's softly snoring, and you're trying to wake him back up to properly get ready for bed.

TIM DRAKE ☕️

You walked downstairs to see Tim stretched out on the couch, some report in his hands. Your eyes widen at the sight. You peel your gaze off your boyfriend and to the kitchen table where... Yup. His empty coffee cups and paperwork sit.

"Are you feverish? Since when do you lay down and look over paperwork on a case?" You giggle quietly, causing Tim's eyes to drift from the papers. He smiles lazily and sighs.

"Wanted a change of scenery?" He lies with a laugh.

"Super important?" You nod toward the paper in his hand.

Tim's eyebrows lift. He liked where this was going. "Not... Really. What'd you have in mind, sweetheart?"

Nothing could have prepared him for your running start, followed by your swift launching with arms spread wide. He manuvered by throwing the folder down on the ground and caught you in his arms, where you landed with an audible thud against his chest.

"What was that?!" Tim erupts, both of you coughing and breaking into hysterics. You kiss up his neck and wrap your arms around him.

"Cuddle me?" You muffle into his throat. Tim laughs even louder and wraps both his legs and arms around you, practically bear-hugging you to his chest. Both of your bodies rattle from the laughter filling your living room.

As it slowly subsides and you two can focus on each other's breathing, Tim looks down at you and kisses your cheek softly. He moves a little so you can lay beside him comfortably on the couch where he throws his leg over yours and pins you to his chest with a strong arm and flat hand on your belly. He skims under the fabric of your t-shirt and strokes your skin with light strokes.

He knew he wouldn't get anything else done today. All of his attention now belonged to you.

[novaursa]

Hi Novaursa! I just saw that you're taking request. Your writing is beyond awesome and I'm wondering if I can make a request with Gwayne Hightower and Female Reader? The two decided to marry in secret when the reader's parents arrange her for another man? Bonus point if they get to have a short happy marriage before Gwayne leaves for King's Landing (and we know what awaits him there T-T)?

I might have mentioned it before but I love your writing! ^^

A Rose in Oldtown

- Summary: Gwayne steals a rose and allows it to grow strong in Oldtown.

- Pairing: tyrell!reader/Gwayne Hightower

- A/N: I had something similar laying around on my hard drive. It was not for tyrell!reader, but I've used its bones for structure and it needed pretty little rewriting. This is why this is posted so soon. And yeah, I'm manic sometimes when it comes to writing. When I have an idea I can't sleep until it's done. Or do anything else basically. If I don't respond to your ask after a few days, then I'm probably starting from scratch. @justdillydally I hope you enjoy this as you did my other works. ❤️

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Word count: 3 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @holdingforgeneralhugs

You stand at the front of the Sept, dressed in the finest gown Highgarden could offer—an emerald green masterpiece embroidered with golden roses, the petals dusted with delicate pearls that shimmer in the dim candlelight. The sleeves are long and sheer, allowing glimpses of your skin beneath, while the bodice is cinched tightly, enhancing every curve. The skirt flows like a river of green silk, the fabric whispering with every breath you take. A golden rose sits in your hair, nestled among the intricate braids that frame your face. It’s a gown fit for a queen, but today it feels more like a cage.

The air is thick with anticipation, the weight of tradition pressing down on your chest. House Lannister’s colors dominate the sept, crimson banners emblazoned with golden lions hanging from every pillar. They seem to mock you, roaring silently, a reminder of the fate being forced upon you. Your father stands beside you, his expression unreadable, yet you can feel the iron grip of his expectations.

“Remember your duty,” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding.

But duty is the last thing on your mind. Your heart is hammering, but not for the man who waits for you at the altar. Jason Lannister stands there with a smug smile, eyes gleaming like a cat eyeing prey. You should feel fear—discomfort, even—but all you feel is anger and longing. 

Your gaze drifts past him, searching the shadows of the crowded sept for a pair of familiar gray eyes. You know Gwayne is near, can sense him even if you can’t yet see him. He promised you. He promised he’d come.

The sept doors creak open, and a gust of wind rushes in, carrying the salty tang of the nearby sea. For a heartbeat, the ceremony halts, heads turning toward the disturbance. There, at the threshold, stands Gwayne Hightower, clad in green leather riding armor, a stark contrast to the opulence around him. His hair is tousled from the wind, a few unruly strands falling into those piercing eyes that hold yours with an intensity that steals your breath.

“Are you truly going to allow this travesty to unfold?” His voice echoes through the sept, defiant and laced with a challenge. The guests murmur in shock, eyes wide as they shift between the Lannisters and Hightower.

“Gwayne,” you breathe, relief and something wilder, more reckless, surging in your chest.

Your father bristles, stepping forward as if to block the path between you and Gwayne. “You have no place here, Hightower! You disgrace your house with this insolence!”

But Gwayne’s gaze never wavers from you. There’s a promise in his eyes, a question. And deep down, you already know your answer.

“Disgrace?” Gwayne laughs, sharp and mocking. “The only disgrace is forcing a woman to marry a man she doesn’t love. Let her choose.” He extends a hand toward you, daring you to defy every expectation, every command that’s been drilled into you since birth.

Your breath catches in your throat. The world seems to narrow to this single moment—the choice between duty and desire, between a life of cold gold and a life of burning passion. The rose on your head suddenly feels heavy, a symbol of everything you stand to lose if you step toward him. But the thought of losing Gwayne is a pain sharper than any blade.

“Your duty is to your house,” your father snaps, gripping your arm. His fingers dig into your flesh, as if he can keep you there by force.

“Is it?” you whisper, meeting his gaze. “Or is my duty to myself?” With a sudden, fierce resolve, you tear your arm free, the embroidered fabric of your sleeve ripping in the process. The soft sound is like the tearing of bonds that have held you for too long.

The tension breaks like a thunderclap. You lift your skirts and run, the long train of your gown dragging behind you like the last vestiges of your old life. Gwayne doesn’t hesitate. He rushes forward, grabbing your hand and pulling you into a tight embrace as you reach him. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath the leather armor, matching the frantic rhythm of your own.

“Are you ready?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You nod, breathless. “I was ready the moment I saw you.”

With that, he pulls you toward the doors, toward freedom. The guests shout in outrage, your father’s curses mixing with the indignant roars of the Lannisters. But you don’t care. All you can think about is the wind in your hair and the warmth of Gwayne’s hand in yours as you both burst out into the sunlight.

Two horses stand waiting, saddled and ready. Without another word, Gwayne lifts you onto one, his touch gentle but urgent. He mounts his own horse in a single fluid motion and turns to you, his eyes blazing with determination. “We ride to Oldtown. There, we’ll be married by nightfall.”

Your heart swells at his words. There is no more doubt, no more hesitation. Only the thrill of running toward a future you chose for yourself. You share one last glance, and then together, you kick your horses into a gallop, racing away from the sept, from duty, from everything that sought to bind you.

The road ahead is rough, the path winding and treacherous, but with Gwayne at your side, it feels like the smoothest ride of your life. The wind whips your hair, tangling it with the remnants of your torn veil, but you laugh—a wild, unrestrained sound that echoes over the hills.

“This is madness,” you shout to him over the pounding hooves, but there’s pure joy in your voice.

“Madness is letting you go,” he replies, a grin splitting his face. He reaches over, his fingers brushing yours as you ride side by side. It’s a touch full of unspoken promises and a future yet to be written.

By the time you reach Oldtown, the sky is painted in hues of dusk, the Hightower looming over the horizon like a beacon guiding you both home. Gwayne helps you down from your horse, and you’re both breathless, flushed from the ride. He pauses, holding you close for a moment longer than necessary, his forehead resting against yours.

“I’ll never let anyone take you from me,” he whispers, fierce and possessive, but laced with a tenderness that makes your heart ache.

“Good,” you reply, your voice steady and sure. “Because I won’t let you go either.”

Hand in hand, you enter the modest sept in the shadow of the Hightower. The ceremony is simple, witnessed only by a few loyal friends, but it is perfect. When Gwayne says his vows, his voice is low and rough, thick with emotion. And when you pledge yourself to him, it’s with a heart so full it feels like it might burst.

As the septon pronounces you husband and wife, Gwayne leans in to kiss you, a fierce, claiming kiss that seals your fates together. In that moment, you know that no matter what battles lie ahead, no matter who might seek to tear you apart, you have already won the greatest victory: a life lived on your own terms, with the man you chose.

Life in Oldtown is a far cry from the rigid splendor of Highgarden or the bustling grandeur of King’s Landing. The Hightower looms majestically above the city, its walls steeped in history and tradition. You’ve come to love its winding corridors, the serene gardens tucked away behind ancient stone walls, and the way the sea breeze carries the scent of salt and lavender through the open windows. It’s become your home—a place where you and Gwayne have carved out a life filled with laughter, warmth, and stolen moments of happiness.

This morning is bright and pleasant, the sun spilling golden light across the gardens where you sit with Prince Daeron. The young Targaryen, with his silver-gold hair and lilac eyes, is a delight—sharp-witted and full of curiosity, yet with the unmistakable earnestness of youth. He often seeks your company, and you’ve grown fond of the boy, finding comfort in his easy laughter and unguarded conversations. Today, the two of you are seated beneath a blossoming magnolia tree, playing a game of cyvasse, though it’s clear Daeron is far more interested in the tales you’ve been telling him about the Reach.

“And is it true,” Daeron asks, eyes alight with fascination, “that the fields near Highgarden stretch as far as the eye can see? Nothing but green and gold?”

You smile at the eagerness in his voice. “Aye, and in summer, the air is thick with the scent of roses. The orchards are heavy with fruit, and the rivers run clear and cool. It’s as close to paradise as one might find in Westeros.”

Daeron leans closer, resting his chin on his hand. “You make it sound like a dream. Perhaps one day, I’ll see it with my own eyes.”

“Perhaps,” you say, though there’s a touch of melancholy in your tone. “But Oldtown has its own beauty, Daeron. Have you grown fond of it?”

He nods, a thoughtful expression passing over his young face. “I have. But it’s different—quieter, more… ancient. The Hightower has secrets, I think, buried deep beneath its stones.”

Before you can reply, you notice Gwayne approaching from across the garden. He’s dressed in simple but well-made clothing, his sword strapped to his side as always. When he sees you with Daeron, a warm smile lights up his face, and your heart skips a beat as it always does when you see him. Even after all this time, the love between you remains as fierce and tender as it was the day he stole you away.

“Prince Daeron,” Gwayne greets the boy with a respectful nod, though his gaze lingers on you, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes. “I hope you’ve been kind to my wife and haven’t defeated her too soundly at cyvasse.”

Daeron grins, shaking his head. “She’s a worthy opponent, Ser Gwayne. I’ve yet to best her.”

Gwayne chuckles, but then his tone softens as he turns to you. “My love, would you join me for a walk? There’s something I wish to show you.”

Your curiosity piqued, you glance at Daeron, who waves you away with a knowing smile. “Go on, my lady. I’ll study my strategy for our next match.”

You rise, smoothing the folds of your gown as Gwayne offers you his arm. As the two of you walk through the garden, you feel the familiar comfort of his presence, the way his strength grounds you, even in the quietest of moments. You follow him deeper into the garden, past the flowering hedges and beneath the shadow of the towering walls, until you reach a secluded corner where a stone bench sits nestled between climbing roses.

“Here,” Gwayne says softly, guiding you to sit. The sun filters through the leaves, casting dappled patterns on the ground, and the air hums with the song of distant birds.

“What is it you wished to show me?” you ask, though your voice is gentle, already sensing that this moment is less about revealing something new and more about being together, away from the prying eyes of court and the endless duties that come with your position.

Gwayne’s smile is tender as he sits beside you, taking your hand in his. “Nothing but this—just us, here, away from everything. I’ve been wanting a moment alone with you all day.”

His thumb brushes over your knuckles, a familiar and intimate gesture that never fails to send warmth curling through your chest. The world falls away, leaving only the two of you, the quiet rustle of leaves, and the scent of roses hanging in the air.

“You spend so much time caring for others—Daeron, the household, the people who come to us with their troubles. I sometimes wonder if you’ve time left for yourself,” he murmurs, his gaze searching yours.

You shake your head, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “How could I want for anything when I have you? You’re all I need, Gwayne. You always have been.”

His eyes darken with affection, and he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to your fingers. “And you, my sweet rose, are more than I ever dreamed of. I often think of the day we ran away together—how reckless it was, how mad we must’ve seemed. And yet, here we are. You, the light in my life, and me, foolishly in love with you every day more than the last.”

There’s a sincerity in his words that makes your heart swell. You lean into him, resting your head against his shoulder, and he wraps an arm around you, holding you close. For a long while, neither of you speaks, content simply to be in each other’s presence, surrounded by the peaceful solitude of the garden.

Eventually, Gwayne shifts, turning so he can cradle your face in his hands. His touch is gentle, reverent, as if he’s memorizing every line, every freckle and feature. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, and there’s a rawness in his voice, a depth of feeling that makes your breath catch.

You smile, reaching up to cup his cheek. “And you are everything I never knew I needed.”

He leans in slowly, giving you time to close the distance, and when his lips finally meet yours, it’s soft, tender, and full of unspoken promises. The kiss deepens gradually, a slow, deliberate connection that speaks of love and trust and a desire that never quite fades. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, so close it matches your own.

“This,” he murmurs, his voice rough with emotion, “this is all I want. A life with you, here, in our little world, where no one can touch us.”

You smile, closing your eyes and savoring the closeness, the warmth of him against you. “And you have it, Gwayne.”

The room is bathed in the soft light of dawn, the golden hues filtering through the gauzy curtains and casting a warm glow across the bed. The linens are tangled beneath you, a reminder of the night spent wrapped in each other’s embrace. Gwayne lies beside you, propped up on one elbow, his gaze fixed on you as if he’s trying to memorize every detail, every curve and feature. The air is thick with the scent of roses, mingled with the salt from the sea breeze wafting through the open window. 

His fingers trace idle patterns along your bare shoulder, lingering on the curve of your neck, then down to your chest before they rest on the gentle swell of your abdomen. You place your hand over his, and he looks at you with a mixture of longing and regret. It’s in his eyes, in the way his thumb absently strokes your skin as if he can’t bear the thought of leaving you.

“I wish I could stay,” he whispers, his voice rough from sleep and emotion. “It kills me to think I won’t be here when our child is born.”

You close your eyes against the sting of tears, fighting the lump in your throat. “I wish you could stay too,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I know you must go. Aegon’s summons cannot be ignored, and you have always been loyal to your family. I understand that.”

Gwayne leans down, brushing his lips softly against your temple before moving lower, trailing kisses down your cheek and jaw. His lips linger at the curve of your belly, reverently pressing a kiss to the slight bump that holds your child—the child he might not meet for months, perhaps longer. The touch is tender, filled with all the love and unspoken vows he cannot put into words. You feel the warmth of his breath against your skin as he murmurs, “I’ll be back before you know it, my love. I swear it.”

You reach down, threading your fingers through his hair, holding him close. “You can’t promise that,” you say, your voice trembling despite your attempt to stay strong. “King’s Landing is dangerous, especially now, with the realm so divided. What if—”

Gwayne lifts his head, cutting you off with a kiss—deep, slow, filled with a desperation that echoes the ache in your chest. When he finally pulls away, his forehead rests against yours, and you can feel the tension in his body, the way he holds back the fear he won’t speak aloud.

“No ‘what ifs,’” he says firmly, though there’s a faint tremor in his voice. “I’ll do everything in my power to return to you and our child. This is my life—you are my life. Nothing will keep me from you.”

You nod, blinking away tears that threaten to spill. “I want to believe that.”

“Then believe it,” he whispers, cupping your face and wiping a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. “Hold onto that hope. I’ll need it as much as you do while I’m away.”

For a long moment, the two of you simply hold each other, the silence heavy with the weight of unspoken fears and the bittersweet reality of this impending separation. You can feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat against your palm, and it takes everything in you not to beg him to stay, to forsake the king’s orders and remain here, safe, with you.

But you know Gwayne, and you know his sense of duty runs as deep as his love. He would never forgive himself if he abandoned his responsibilities, even for the sake of his own happiness. And so, you do not say the words that claw at the back of your throat. Instead, you bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent—earthy and familiar, a comfort you’ll cling to in the lonely nights ahead.

After what feels like an eternity, Gwayne gently disentangles himself from your embrace, rising from the bed and beginning to dress in silence. The rustle of fabric and the soft clink of his belt buckle are the only sounds in the room. You watch him as he fastens his sword to his side, his expression distant, already steeling himself for the journey ahead.

When he’s fully dressed, he turns back to you, his eyes softening as they meet yours. He crosses the room in a few strides and kneels beside the bed, taking your hand in his. “I’ll write as soon as I reach King’s Landing. And every chance I get, I’ll send word to you. I want to know everything—how you’re feeling, how the babe is growing… Everything.”

You nod, squeezing his hand tightly. “I’ll write too. I’ll tell you of every little thing, so you don’t feel too far away from us.”

He leans in, capturing your lips in one last kiss—sweet and tender, a promise sealed between you. When he finally pulls away, it’s with a sigh that speaks of reluctance, of the struggle to let go.

“Take care of yourself and our little one,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll be counting the days until I’m back in your arms.”

You manage a small smile, though your heart is breaking at the thought of watching him walk out that door. “And we’ll be counting the days until we see you again. Ride swiftly, and come back to us.”

With one last lingering touch, he rises, and then he’s gone, the door closing softly behind him. The silence that follows is deafening, an emptiness settling over you like a heavy cloak. You press a hand to your belly, imagining the life growing within, and whisper softly, “Your father will come back to us. He must.”

But even as you say the words, a chill runs down your spine. All you can do now is wait, and hope that the gods are merciful enough to bring him back home—where he belongs, where all of your love and dreams are waiting for him.

The morning light spills across the bed, but it feels colder now, as if the warmth of his presence has been stripped away. You lie back against the pillows, closing your eyes and letting the memories of his touch, his voice, his promises fill the emptiness, holding onto them with every fiber of your being.

You whisper a silent prayer to the gods, hoping they listen, hoping they understand that your love is worth returning.

[glitter-stained]

Oh I see you also wanted to see Jason abusing benzos after Gotham War. Good taste etc.

Anyway, I've given some thought about how that could end up happening, and... Well, for starters, I think this:

Should have consequences!

Maybe Jason takes more time to push through the fear and rescue the girl, and she ends up in the hospital, or maybe she dies (I'm always advocating for them both to die here, but in this situation, I thinking - she inhales a lot of smoke, has to go to the hospital, stays there in critical condition).

Anyway, Jason wouldn't have started abusing benzos just because of himself, but if affects his vigilantism? If it put other people at risk? Yeah, then he's gonna do it.

Alternatively, maybe he even tries to step back from vigilantism, because his condition is putting more people in risk than he not being there at all, and then ends up in the emergency as a civilian and there he is given alprazolam/diazepam/some other benzodiazepine and it works (somewhat? I won't try to understand how comic book logic for body modifications would interact with real world drugs). So afterwards Jason is like... "Hmmmmm this could make me functional again 👍 interesting" and there you go, that's the beginning of his descent into benzos abuse :/

I was about to say "Jason needs to abuse benzos because with the vicious circle of adrenaline/panic attacks he will die" but then I realised this man has the survival instinct of a lemming so your theory is much better, I do think he would take them to be able to continue vigilantism.

I don't want the little girl to die, not because I don't think you're right, but because it makes me too sad. With that being said, I've been considering some things:

-Jason died (his first death) of smoke inhalation

-PTSD is associated with memory issues regarding the event (not an erasure of the moment so much as distorsions, issues with memories, details remembered wrong or incoherently...) Add to that the fear failsafe and the fact that on top of being a traumatic event, this scene could be triggering to him, and Jason does dissociate sometimes (which in extreme case can be linked to "memory" issues when you're not aware of what's happening, ie because you're trapped in a flashback).

-with the rest of the Gotham War storyline happening, Jason had no opportunity to follow-up and take her to the hospital

Put all of that together in the shaker, and you have the perfect cocktail for a Jason overwhelmed by doubt because he can't remember whether the little girl survived.

And then

AND THEN that's where it gets interesting, because the fun thing about benzos is aside from all the other shitty side-effects those drugs, esp in high quantities, can cause temporary memory loss (kinda like when you get black-out drunk). So I'm picturing a Jason addicted to benzos, horrified at the idea of ending up like his mother but not even chemically capable of feeling afraid of it, always wondering if he failed to save that little girl, and with chunks of missing time... I like to think he'd dissociate more often too, as a reaction to the anxiety on top of that, so there's the horror of having his memory full of holes, feeling like he's living a half-life, not being sure of anything...

And, well. When you find a traumatized young man with such dangerous skills, memory issues, attachment issues and such evident vulnerability... There's a lot of things you can do with a man like that. A lot of things you can make them believe, make them feel, make them think.