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[webfilledhead]

Banished

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason misses his girlfriend

warnings: extremely mild angst, he’s just mopey (he’s fine)

Jason sits slumped over the kitchen island, head lying in his crossed arms. His now soggy cereal disregarded after barely a few bites.

Dick’s been rummaging through the cabinets for the better part of twenty minutes and Tim sits atop of the nook table shoving donuts in his mouth for the better part of thirty.

Damian trudges past them to the nook bench, taking out a knife and beginning to whittle away at a block of wood.

He glances at Jason with a scowl. “If you’re going to be so miserable, can’t you do it in your own home?”

Jason just grunts.

He wishes. You and Bruce had conspired to trap him at the mansion for the week so he could heal from injuries sustained during the last mission without risk of him suiting up and sneaking away from you in the middle of the night.

It’s not even the fact that he’s basically being babysat that’s got him so disgruntled. He wouldn’t mind it at all if you were here too. But you were dead set that the manor was too far out of your way for work, so you’d stay behind. A lose-lose for Jason.

“He’s just mad his girlfriend kicked him out,” Dick teases, swiping through the fridge.

Tim snorts from the doorway, “Me too. He’s a lot more depressing on his own.”

Jason kept his head down as he blindly reached for the spoon in his cereal and chucked it at Tim’s head.

Tim catches it without thought, continuing, “A lot more irritable, at least. Why isn’t she here?”

“She’s gotta work,” Dick says, scanning through the pantry.

Damian peeps his head up from his project. “But Todd has a rather large supply of less than legally obtained money, does he not?”

“Yeah, but she said she wants to pay her own rent, I think,” Dicks hums, finally giving up on his quest for a snack.

Damian pauses.

“So she wants to live in a tiny apartment?” He asks, a mixture of confused and horrified.

“Watch your mouth,” Jason mumbles.

“It was a genuine question!” Damian protests, face screwed up.

Jason finally lifts his head up, turning to his little brother with a raised brows. “And I’m genuinely going to break your nose.”

It’s an empty threat, maybe. But it was enough to shut Damian up anyways. Jason turns back to his cereal and swishes the bowl around.

Dick rests his arms on the counter across from Jason and speaks lowly. “You know, it is just a few days. She’s coming back.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Jason was never one for showing his feelings—let alone talking about them.

He misses you, plain and simple. Dick could see that much clearly, though the longing looked unfamiliar on Jason.

Bruce lingers in the hallway, just past the island, listening.

He’ll admit (to himself) that he’s worried about Jason. It’s been three days and Jason has yet to show a crack in this demeanor. And while it’s not uncommon for him to stow himself away, there is something quite wrong with the way he hasn’t countered his brother’s jabs at him or teased them.

And while he could do without the blatant threats, he’s proud to hear his son defending his girlfriend, even over trivial things. It’s one of the few moments where he feels like he did right by him as a father.

And now here’s his son, caring about someone else more than he cares about himself. Someone who’s a good person, no less. It had been your idea to trick Jason into staying at the manor, you were scared that he would push his body past its limit when you couldn’t do anything to help.

Bruce knew you didn’t feel great about basically banishing him for the week but he could see that you just wanted what was best for Jason. He could see it so clearly. Maybe Bruce could never have been a perfect father, could never have given his son everything he needed despite having more money than he could ever use. Maybe he couldn’t help him, even now.

But you could.

Bruce peers around the corner, leaning up against the doorframe.

He watches Damian give up on carving at his block and start into the leg of the table.

He watches the bickering that broke out after Tim grab the last glazed donut, which was apparently the only thing Dick could possibly fathom eating.

And he watches Jason.

As Jason’s phone lights up on the counter next to him. He glances down at it with a frown before his face absolutely lights up.

He scrambles to pick the phone up and starts typing away. A quiet action that catches the attention of all of his brothers.

He types and types, waits for ten seconds for a response and types and types again—smile on his face.

The Waynes didn’t need to be the greatest detectives in the world to know who he was texting.

✨ reblog fics or face the block button ✨

[webfilledhead]

Split Lips Masterlist (TASM!Peter Parker x Reader)

series summary: Its simple hating peter parker, the cocky asshole who has made it his mission to one up you every chance he gets. In the same vein, its simple loving spiderman, the sweet masked vigilante who has made it his mission to ensure your safety. How simple will it prove to be when the two worlds meet.

content warnings: angst, blood and injury, small emetophobia warning, fem!reader, anxious reader, not use of y/n, no race/ appearance description

one chapter/ ??? chapters

CHAPTER 1

you finally get the chance to one up peter and officially have the honour of meeting the friendly neighbourhood spiderman that everyone has been talking about.

[webfilledhead]

muscle memory

tasm!peter parker x reader

Angst then kinda fluff? My first time writing for him be kind to me

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Your night is quiet, you were getting used to quiet evenings. It was weird at first, it felt almost empty. You had so much time now, you spent most of your nights in your room studying for exams that were weeks away. You would sit at your desk and reread paragraphs that slipped your mind the first couple times as you played the news on your tv as background noise.

This night was similar to most, you were actually getting work done this time. You had three assignments done and one to go. The downside to this was that they were due next week and when you finished you would have no work to do and would probably end up reading your assigned readings early.

As you’re about to start your last assignment you hear tapping. You brush it off the first time. The second time it is impossible to ignore since you weren’t just imagining it like all the other nights before. Your breath catches in your throat as you realize the second you turn around it’s over.

You turn in the chair of your desk.

Sure enough there he is. He’s wearing his Spider-Man suit, he’s resting against the windowsill like he can’t bear to hold his own weight. The second your eyes landed upon the torn chest of his suit and the bloodied exposed flesh your movements were muscle memory.

It has been two months since you have done this but your movements are quick and sure. You opened the window and half carried him half dragged him to your bed no questions asked. You remove his mask and the upper half of his suit with deft fingers. You paid no mind to how he smelled like he spent his afternoon swimming in the sewers, maybe you noted it a little. You quickly analyze his injuries as you pull the now dusty first aid kit under your bed out. You didn’t have one before you met him, now you keep it under your bed for easy access.

“Sorry I’m getting your bed all bloody,”he groans out softly which makes your movements come to a halt.

You look at him, really look at him. It’s been two months since you’ve seen him up close and not just on the news. You haven’t seen him since he broke up with you, claiming it was too dangerous for you to be around him. You were so angry at first but now after sixty days you’ve grown numb. Your feelings are starting to bubble at the surface again as you gaze into his chocolate brown eyes. His stupid doe eyes.

You take a deep breath and tell yourself you can be angry later. You need to focus on the task at hand, another assignment really,“It’s fine everything can be washed away.”

Your words carry weight that you want nothing to do with. Everything can’t be washed away, some stains are stubborn and never leave. You know you can’t wash him away no matter how much you try that much is evident with how your ears always perk up when his name is mentioned in the news.

Before he can get another word out you exit your room, head to the bathroom, and get two clean towels and dampen them. You also get him pain medicine from the medicine cabinet. You give him the pills wordlessly with your water bottle that was at your desk.

With the damp towel you begin to clean off all the dried blood and grime so you can get a good look at how bad his injuries really are. You’re gentle as you wipe at his warm skin. The only sounds in the room are the quiet news channel now forgotten on your tv and his soft winces every now and then.

Once his chest is clean you can see he has three long gashes, they aren’t too deep they’re much shallower than you expected, the longest one runs from is upper right pec down to his left side on his lower ribs. As you use the clean towel to clean the wounds again he tries to speak again.

“It really isn’t okay, when did you get white floral bedding? It was dark purple a couple days a-” Peter cuts himself off realizing the implications of what he just said.

You feel slightly embarrassed at how happy you feel hearing that. He still cares for you, you hoped he did somewhere deep within you. Despite everything you still miss him and his constant need for first aid.

“You’ve been watching me,” you don’t ask it’s more of a statement since he just confirmed it. You start applying Neosporin to the gashes.

You can feel yourself folding like origami so you make sure not to look in his eyes. Not to look at his stupid sheepish smile. You can’t do this.

“Why would you ever suggest that? I just mean you used to have purple bedding,”He mumbles trying to cover up for himself as he attempts to sit up to look at you better.

You gently push him back down as you get butterfly bandages from your first aid kit. You use them in the deepest sections first since you don’t know if you’ll have enough for the entire length of the wounds.

“Why are you here Peter?”

You blurt your question out with no thinking prior to it. You know why he’s here, you’re the only person who can take care of him. You’re the only one who knows his secret, the only person he can let his guard down to. The only one who will open your window to him in the middle of the night no questions asked.

“I found myself coming here like I always did after getting beat up. I missed you,”he says so sincerely it hurts.

Your hands stop again for the second time. They begin to shake slightly when you hear his words. You hadn’t seen him in so long and the first time you do he comes back to you all beat up and bloody. You take in your proximity to him for the first time since you dragged him to your bed. You’re leaning over him awfully close to him so you can get a better look at his wounds. He’s warm, his skin is soft when your fingers brush against it, he’s so Peter.

You don’t say anything, not knowing how to reply. Knowing him this doesn’t mean he will want to be in a relationship with you again. He’s so stubborn.

You don’t move away when his hand reaches up to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek,“Do you miss me too?”

The answer to that question is obvious enough he just wants to hear you say it. You can’t, your pride won’t let you. You can’t be left to lick at your wounds alone again.

“You’re so unfair, Parker,” you mumble as you keep your eyes away from his. You focus on the tiny cuts on his chest now, keeping yourself distracted. It’s hard to distract yourself when his hand leaves your face to your waist to keep you close.

It’s not fair that he comes to you in the middle of the night all beat up and bruised after not seeing him for two months and asks you this. It’s not fair that he can just show up whenever he wants and leave whenever he pleases.

Then he gives you that stupid smile of his. That very same smile that never fails to make you melt and give into whatever he has to say. You move your hands from his chest to his face and start cleaning up his face with soft touches.

“I know I’m being unfair, I just can’t stand being away from you anymore,” he says making your brows furrow in confusion.

Then the ugly feelings you pushed down start bubbling at the surface once more,“You can’t just leave me then come back after two months expecting me to welcome you back with open arms.”

“I know I messed up, I know that but I want to make it up to you. Just answer this please: do you miss me?” Peter asks as he tugs you closer to him, you lose your balance and end up with one hand braced on the bed beside him and the other on his shoulder. You’re so close to his face and those pretty brown eyes are looking at you in away that makes your breath catch in your throat.

You try to pull yourself away but his arm that has snaked its way around your waist keeps you planted,“Yes, but Peter you can’t jus-“

Your words are effectively cut off by Peter pressing his lips against yours. It’s sweet, a sweet familiar warmth you missed so much. You wish you could blame muscle memory on how quick you are to melt against him and kiss him back.