After Hours (chapter 2)

after hours (chapter 2)

⯈ previous chapter : chapter one

⯈ pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x female!reader

⯈ summary: the nights in Gotham are always unforgiving, you, you strip for money, to feed your son and to forget some of your troubles. it's easy, it's simple until Vengeance appears in your night.

⯈ rating: mature (for the entire work, there will be smut people), teen for the first chapters.

⯈ tw: stripping, violence, mentions of physical abuse

⯈ word count: 3,7k

⯈ NOTE : the response has been amazing for my first imagine story ever and for the first chapter, thank you guys ❤️ enters Bruce Wayne and a lot of fluff, I really needed it for this week. ❤️ @luvmeijii @blossomedfloweroflove @deadflowerd @measure-in-pain @yuki235171 --- if you want to be tagged in the future let me know.

You do not see the Batman at the club after the incident, as you call it in your head, and frankly. you're glad. Parts of you believe you overreacted and the rest... well you suspected someone who spent his night dressed as a bat and protecting the streets of this fucking city had issues and zero manners, but you didn't do it for the money. Your job is about the money.

Helping him? Helping Vengeance? That had been something else entirely different, and he had ruined it all. Like a jerk.

Like the man that he is.

It might be for the best because for the next few days, you need to focus on things happening in the daylight. Your son's school is putting on a play and that's all he can talk about, you don't understand the plot, it makes zero sense, apparently, it's about the city and all you need to know is that your son apparently got the lead, he's playing Thomas Wayne for pretend. Of course, the Waynes are at the center of the play, after all, your son goes to a school that has the name plastered on the entrance, because the Gotham Prince, Bruce Wayne himself, finally decided to invest some of his money back.

It's a good school, a good, decent public school, which is saying a lot and while you eat your breakfast, you help your son practice his lines, you show him how to tie a tie and it's so simple, you can't help but smile. That's why you do all of this, that's why you put up with the club, that's why you found a way to shine in the night because he is everything you have and being by his side makes everything better.

He is the best thing about you.

Finally, it's time for the play, it's a lovely Saturday afternoon and if your own mother says that she is too tired to accompany you, apparently she has done enough for the day, you ignore her complaints and find your most responsible and school play appropriate dress. It's a long dark blue dress, almost black, not quite, it strapless and follows the curves of your body naturally showing a bit but not too much, you top it off with the shortest pair of heels that you can find -you can't just barge in your stripper heels, that much you know- and you top it off with a light jacket, heading for the school.

You pay the cab fair gladly and your spot a few familiar faces, a few parents, a few mothers are surprised to see you, you're not one to join in the conversation, but today you pretend. Right outside the school, you pretend to care about their mundane life, nodding and waiting for the moment when it will be time for you to go outside and see your son on stage.

"Oh... I didn't think he would show."

"Someone is playing his dad, of course, he is going to show up, it's good PR for him."

"He doesn't care about that."

"How would you know?"

There's a commotion and you follow the noise and the questioning and suddenly, a car way more expensive than the rest of the mom's vans stops in front of the school and you look, like everyone else, as Bruce Wayne himself, all dressed in black step outside the car.

There is a pause, the conversation comes to a halt and you know you should be looking away but even you know this is a rare occurrence. He's been doing more charity work since the flood but still, that's Bruce fucking Wayne, you don't run in the same circles.

Today you do, especially when you lock eyes, it's clear that he is looking at you and for some unknown reason, he nods. As if to say hello and you find yourself nodding back, noticing how tired and pale he actually looks and how he towers over a few people. The moment is over when some school administrators start leading the Wayne inside and you realize that you should probably move.

Everyone wants a seat at the front, so you don't bother arguing and you end up sitting in the back row, not at the center but at the edge, you get rid of your jacket, put down your bag and you start moving your chair, looking for the best view of the stage. You are going to take millions of pictures and yes, you are going to be one of those annoying mothers. You're so focused on your task that you don't notice when someone approaches you, it's only when you hear someone clearing their throat, followed by a "is this seat taken?" that you turn.

Once again, facing Bruce Wayne.

"I... no, go ahead."

You're not waiting for anyone, he can sit wherever he wants, the row is completely empty, and yet he chose the seat right next to yours. He nods politely again and he is still watching you as he sits down, you watch as he takes a deep breath, his entire chest moving up and down, and slowly you turn away from him, going back to find the best angle. You find it a moment later and when you sit down, you cross your legs and you notice that your left foot is close to one of his. You should probably move, you don't, you look to your right and you find Bruce staring again. He opens his mouth once, twice, as if to start a conversation, and finally after a few seconds of what seems to be an internal debate he asks his question: "Boy or girl?"

"Boy. With too much energy if you ask me."

"I believe you... so who is he playing today?"

"Your dad."

That earns you something at least, Bruce's expression seems to soften, there's a half-smile on his face and it disappears as soon as it appears. You want to ask a question in return, you're curious, why is he here? You're sure a man like himself has better things to do with his Saturday afternoon.

"You think someone is going to play...me?" Bruce ponders the next moment.

"Hmm no, I think that's before your time, unfortunately, I'm not gonna lie, I might have helped my son practice his lines, I couldn't tell you a single thing about the plot."

"I guess I just have to see, right?"

"Right."

***

When your son appears on stage, it’s all you can see and it’s all you can focus on. You even manage to forget that you’re sitting next to Bruce Wayne because nothing else matters except your own flesh and blood, on stage, in a black suit that is slightly too big for him. Doing his best not to fumble his lines and act. You never knew you could smile so much in so little time, your cheeks hurt and you feel tears forming in your eyes and yes, it might be a bit cliché, but at least, you’re happy and it’s easy to forget the rest.

And even easier to remember that you’re doing all of this, the shitty day job, putting up with your own mother and her constant criticism, the club, the wandering hands on your body, the miserable tips some nights, the smell of alcohol, and sometimes worse into your clothes and Vengeance himself… all of this for him. For your son.

When the play ends, you are already on your feet and you’re the first one to applaud, probably too loud and if you see a few heads turn in your direction, you ignore them and you clap and soon the rest of the crowd is following you.

Soon, Bruce himself is on his two feet right next to you and he’s clapping too. And the moment your gazes meet, you can swear he is smiling. Once again, it’s brief, it’s gone as soon as it came, like a flash, as soon as you blink and you turn to the stage once more as students and teachers appear and bow. They do deserve the small standing ovation that they are getting and you see your own child with a beaming smile on his face.

You watch as your son scan the crown looking for you, and the mature and responsible thing to do would be to probably wave and that’s it, but not you, you shove two fingers into your mouth and you whistle loudly, a gesture he has seen you do so many times and when he finally spots you, his smile grows bigger. Yours does too and soon enough, the moment ends when the kids have to exit the stage and the parents the auditorium. You can’t wait to give your son the biggest hug he ever got in his entire life, and maybe you will go out to celebrate?

Definitely, you think the next second and you’re about to grab your belongings when you realize that your bag and jacket are already in the Wayne’s hands and he is handing them back to you.

“I suppose you want to go congratulate the artist,” he offers in that neutral tone of his and you nod eagerly, you whisper a thank you, and your bag ends up once more on your right shoulder, where you shove your camera inside and you grab your jacket in the other hand. You nod, he nods back and you walk out of the auditorium, looking for your son. You dare a glance back and yes… Bruce is following your every move.

You don’t know why it doesn’t really matter, you suppose he’s not used to all of this, the normalcy and the banality of having children and you join the row of parents waiting for their kids. You spot your son easily, he’s still wearing his costume, the suit a bit too big and you barely have time to scout down that he is already in your arms.

“Mum! What did you think, I was good, was I?”

“Yes! You were amazing! A true actor, you deserve a nomination from the academy… at the very least.”

“At the very least, right!”

You both giggle and even though he’s still a bit too big for this, you keep him in your arms as you stand up, one arm secured around his waist and your son’s hands around your neck. This is a good day you think, this is what it is all about and the only thing worth your while. If all the days were like this, you wouldn’t need to escape and disappear into the nights.

You wouldn’t need anything else.

“Hey, buddy… It’s not much but… you want to go get some pie?”

“Yes! Some blueberry pie and a hot chocolate and some cookies and…”

“Okay, okay, we’re going!”

You lead the way out of the school, your son in your arms, you don’t even bother saying goodbye to the rest of the parents, you don’t have to pretend with your son around and he knows you’re not the most sociable mother and he even thinks you’re terrible at small talk, his words not yours. So best to avoid that and grab the first cab you can stop and make your way to the café, it’s a bit far from your flat but anytime anything worthwhile happens: a good grade, the end of the school year, you and your son rush to the little coffee shop, small vestige that once upon a time, everything was right in Gotham. It’s not much, but it’s something you can do.

And you listen as he tells you that maybe he’s old enough to try coffee, still smiling and eyeing the street for a cab, clearly unprepared when someone clears their throat right behind you.

“Do you need a ride?”

You turn around, your son still glued to you, you can feel him press one of his cheeks against yours, it’s warm and comforting. He’s not always this clingy, but you don’t always get to see him like this so you suppose it’s normal. What’s unusual is Bruce Wayne, still here, clearly talking to you, once again. Before you can answer and politely decline his offer, because you are absolutely not getting a ride from the prince of Gotham himself, you hear your son gasps.

“Mr. Wayne! You showed up! My teacher said you never showed up!”

You watch as Bruce’s eyes turn to your son, how could you not notice how blue they are, or maybe they’re green, you can’t decide, for now, they might be darker because of all the black he is wearing but they fixate on your son for a moment or two and if he should be offended, he isn’t. He frowns, then smiles slightly and frowns again, as if he is deciding something.

“I guess… I need to make more of an effort… I really liked your performance, by the way, so did your mother.”

“I tried to be good playing… well playing your dad, I’m glad you liked it. I hope it wasn’t too weird for you…”

“Oh no, it wasn’t. But thank you. It was nice to see him depicted that way, I’m sure if he were here he would have loved it too.”

“My dad isn’t around either. But I’ve got mum and grandma, and it’s all good. Do you have a grandma?”

“Well, I have Alfred, does it count?”

During the whole exchange, you remain silent, you don’t know if you should say something, it’s weird, but in a good way. Your son remains polite the entire time and you know that if Bruce minded, he would have walked away. He seems to enjoy the conversation enough, he seems out of practice even, looking at your son as if he was seeing a child for the very first time and considering how to behave around him.

You know that behavior too well, it was you the first few months after giving birth, when you were handed a living and very vulnerable thing, that you had to take care of. It shifted your entire perspective, your entire world even and it suddenly didn’t matter that you were all alone, scared senseless, and with no clue as to what to do. No, he mattered, your son did, the rest kinda faded away.

You refocus on the conversation when the word pies is uttered out loud and you watch as your son invites Bruce Wayne to join you.

“They have the best pies in the entire city, even the world!”

“Baby, I’m sure Mister Wayne has better thing to do…” you try to interject and to be the responsible parent, you certainly don’t expect Bruce to shrug and reply.

“I really don’t, and I can’t say no to the best pie in the world, and please, call me Bruce. Follow me…”

And as if it was a common occurrence, he leads the way to his car, producing keys from deep within his coat and you have no choice but to follow.

***

You remain silent the entire car ride. You simply have nothing to say, everything is moving too fast and yet so slow, and you don’t know whether you should be happy about it or not.

Bruce drives himself around, no chauffeur apparently, he drives a very expensive car that you couldn’t name and he has no problem securing your son on the back seat and putting his seatbelt on. He even asks him if he is comfortable and waits for your son to actually answer before closing the door. He doesn’t let you open your own door no, he does it for you with a polite nod and the same thing happens, he waits for you to secure your seat belt, then his is put in place and after checking that all the doors are closed, he drives.

Your son is the one to give him the address, and Bruce nods, claiming that he knows the place, he didn’t know about the pies, but he knows the place and he drives quickly and efficiently through the cars. More than that, it seems that people are moving out of the way for him. As if they know who’s behind the steering wheel. You can understand how someone could get used to it, and you remain silent while your son asks Bruce who taught him to drive. Alfred apparently, Alfred's family, taught him most things he knows. You decide that Alfred is someone is definitely pays, family sure, but paid family, you don’t know whether to laugh or find that sad. But something, maybe in Bruce’s tone, indicates that it’s not just about the money and that Alfred has been around for a long time, maybe even before his parents died.

Probably.

You don’t like the thought and you’re glad when you finally arrive at your destination, you don’t even wait for Bruce to be the perfect gentleman again, you open your own down, the fresh airbrush your face and you inhale loudly. Next thing you know, you’re grabbing your son’s hand and Bruce is asking for a table for three.

He’s recognized immediately but that doesn’t seem to bother him, at all, he remains polite the entire time he talks to the hostess and offers you another smile as you are being guided to a table and sits in a booth opposite you and your son. You help your son get rid of his suit jacket and fold the sleeves of the white shirt underneath, in the corner of your eyes you see Bruce get rid of his own long coat, he’s wearing a black suit underneath, that your son immediately notice and say that they look exactly the same.

They do in a way, you didn’t realize until now that they are both sporting the same black ensemble and that they both have blue eyes and long dark hair, Bruce’s hair is longer, you suspect he has to push it away from his face from times to times and if you didn’t know better, you could believe he is your son’s long lost dad.

You push that thought away as well, it’s too comforting, it’s too sad and Bruce nods, hiding momentarily behind the menu that you know by heart. You already know what you want, your son does as well and he is the one leading the conversation and the one Bruce consults for suggestions about the menu. When a waiter appears, he also settles on a blueberry pie with hot chocolate, the same as your son and you can’t help but find that cute, you order for yourself with a smile.

The conversation between the two of them does not stop there, no, while you wait, Bruce asks him about the school, his favorite subjects at the moment, and how he got involved in the play. And you didn’t raise someone shy no, your boy answers every single question with a smile on his face, tells Bruce that he wants to be a pilot someday, because he loves the idea of being in the air even if it scares you or his grandma. You don’t want to interrupt the exchange, you watch from the sidelines, watching him, watching Bruce without meaning too. You finally spot the dark circles underneath his eyes and his right index taping on the table and how his own gaze ventures from the rest of the café every so often, as if to make sure everything is okay, that you are safe.

Again, you have this feeling deep within your stomach, you think it’s hunger, especially when your order arrives and it’s time to dive in. Bruce gets his first bite before anyone else, your son waiting for his verdict, the recommendation is excellent, blueberry pie is now his favorite and you are still smiling when it’s time to criticize your own choice. There is nothing wrong with apple pie, it’s a classic for a reason, that’s your stance and your son winces but Bruce is willing to try a slice of yours and you exchange slices naturally and it’s not weird, it’s not awkward and you’re not even upset about sharing a moment with your son.

Soon enough, he has to go to the bathroom, and no he doesn’t need his mother's help, he insists to go without you and you watch him leave the table, trying not to worry.

Eventually, you turn to Bruce.

“Thank you… for indulging him, you didn’t have to do all of this. Any of this…”

“Oh no, thank you for indulging me. This is nice, he’s… he’s amazing.”

“Right? He makes everything worth it.”

“Everything?”

Bruce’s gaze is on you, you realize as you stop playing with the spoon inside your mug as he asks that simple question, more than that, it’s like he sees you. Through the shield and the make-up, the woman who’s insecure in broad daylight, who’s good at pretending she’s normal, and who can only seem to find a purpose at night, between the money and the thugs, right on that pole. Your mouth is dry all of the sudden, it’s stupid that sensation, you nod anyway, Bruce does too and the moment is over when the waiter comes with the check the next second.

“Whenever you’re ready.” You notice how the employee’s gaze lingers on Bruce like he knows he’s about to receive the biggest tip of his entire life. You roll your eyes at that, he could be less obvious and you reach for the check because you can and you will pay even if you did share a pie with Bruce Wayne.

Bruce, however, is after you and the check is already in his hands before you can even blink.

“Before you say anything, we are splitting that,” you announce with a very decisive tone, another smile on your face.

“Oh are we?”

“Yes, your last name doesn’t impress you, Mister Wayne, we are splitting that check.”

He laughs at that, an earnest and short laugh that you’re sure not many people get to hear, it’s refreshing in a way, he looks way less tired and a good few years younger. As you predicted, he pushes his hair to one side of his face afterward, a fond expression on his face.

“How about I pay today and you pay next time.”’

“Oh, so there will be a next time?”

“Hope so.”

And maybe you don’t say it out loud, but you hope so too, Bruce Wayne is way too intriguing for his own benefit.

middle of the night

battinson!bruce wayne x f!reader

chapter one

summary:  y/n’s life changes immensely, starting with the Batman falling out of the sky right in front of her and ending with a promising new job at Wayne Manor. As her life intertwines with that of both Batman and Bruce Wayne, she begins to figure out that there’s more to both than meets the eye

a/n: So I saw The Batman and now I have a new hyperfixation so…here’s a fic, I guess. There will be no spoilers for the movie. In fact I’m mostly ignoring the movie in favor of my own plot. It can be read as happening after or before the events of the movie. Mostly I’m using Robert Pattinson’s portrayal of Batman as a touchstone for the fic. This is also very loosely a reader insert–my main character has a past and personality etc, but loose physical descriptions and no name. Anyways hope you enjoy it! (Or don’t. Mostly this is for me.)

word count: 2885

Keep reading

ALL ABORAD THE BATTRAIN

the long batman

jason todd x reader

-fluff <3

-damian wayne mention

-enjoy ;)

the apartment was quiet, which was rare for a gotham evening and even rarer in the event that both yourself and jay were both home.

that could mean one of many things, either a movie is going or the two of you are chatting up a storm as jason cooks his heart away in the kitchen. it could mean that one or all of his siblings were over, included but not excluded to roy as well as the other titans who all took just as fast of a liking to you as jason did.

but regardless of what it meant it proved that your home was never quiet. dog was barking (jay was never good with names), windows opening and shutting, groans and grunts (from stitches and sparring), quite the long list but the point was made, it was a quiet evening and that was weird.

so much so that when jason snuck back in through the fire escape at a whopping 10 pm because bruce sent him home from patrol early, feeling sympathetic that night to the fact that his son now had someone waiting at home for him, and the house was quiet jason was almost alarmed.

he kept his gear on, helmet off and placed on your night side table like always, though the domino mask still covered the upper half of his face. light footsteps traced the wood floors, which was odd considering he was a slab a meat walking, but none the less he held one hand to either holster on the sides of his thighs waiting to turn the corner and see either someone holding you or an empty house.

jason was silently praying for an empty living room with a sticky note on the TV saying you went out for ice cream or maybe work called you in, but it was a toss up, a hope, and jason only started hoping when he met you.

he swore his heart stopped when he heard your breathing get heavy. his feet stalled, he knew you were the only one who could ever hear him coming, waiting to see if your breathing would pick up or calm down but nothing happened again, the room was back to pure and utter silence.

he gripped the handle of one of his guns, holding it white knuckled, unable to even think if something happened to you, if you were getting hurt because of his nightly activities, he would rather die all over again than loose you. (not that he would ever admit it, it would ruin his image.)

his body twisted around the last corner, gun already halfway raise from the holster, heart racing, unsure if it had fallen out of his chest or was still resting within. he was on guard in his own home, something he never wanted, he didn’t want to let them win.

“oh for fucks sake.”

his eyes bulged from his head, gun slammed back into the holster, sending a very confused glance as the words tumbled out from his lips before he could even process the fact that you were sitting perfectly fine on the living room floor, a game of chest sat on your cement coffee table with his little demon brat brother sitting just on the other side.

“oh jay you’re home.” your voice carried from your lips to his ears, easing his racing heartbeat but it failed to be sweet enough to wipe the gruff and annoyance off his face.

jason hummed back in agreement, nodding briefly as he kept his eyes on the demon’s head who had yet to acknowledge his older brothers presence or anything at all. jay shifted weight from side to side as he began to toe off his work boots, ones that you immediately notice were cleaner than a usually night in patrol.

his green eyes, now a softer shade, maybe even emerald, stayed on damian with a look of annoyance and maybe even anger, as his body carried over to the couch just behind his girl in his home. your body naturally leaned back into jason, his body resting back on the couch, legs open waiting for you to lean back into his embrace.

“hi darling.” jason’s voice was gruff, usually always was, but it tends to get this deeper and more animalistic when his heart beat had been racing or changed suddenly, so when he wakes at any time of the day, after a sound of ‘making love’ (jay hates calling it sex, he feels like he using you), or after or during a workout. he claims it comes as a side effect from the pit, you think he just gets flustered and doesn’t know how to cover it up.

your body leaned back between his legs, head falling down to the edge of his thigh, hair sprawled across is massive leg, waiting and watching as his head come place a kiss to your hairline, his hand coming down from the back of the couch to rub your scalp for a brief second. (he knows you love it and he loves to watch your eyelids flutter as he massages the area.)

a brief pause passed as your head lifted to turn your attention back to the game of chest, the only sound that can be heard is a deep grumble from your boyfriends chest, “demon brat.”

damian didn’t even flinch, moving his chest piece onto the black square, tilting his head upward just enough to grab a glimpse of his older brother. “todd.”

jason huffed behind you, patting your shoulder signifying he wanted to get up, most likely to change out of the armor. he stepped out for behind your figure, turning around the coffee table, not missing the chance to kick his little brother in the leg before stalking off back to the master room, one he would much rather be laying down in with you watching a movie or reading a book.

“i still don’t understand what you see in him.” damian voiced as he watched you make your next move and immediately pounced to move his en passant.

“you act like you hate having me around.” you teased, staring longing at the board unsure of which move to make next, eyes scanning between damian’s face and the board.

“i do enjoy your company y/n.” he stated, clearly wanting to expand on his point but waiting for you to turn your attention entirely to him. “you are intelligent, it’s refreshing.”

you let out a small snort; you didn’t mean to but you did, immediately regretting it as you watch damian’s face frown and eyes fall back to the board.

“oh dami, i’m sorry.” you reach around, hand resting on his own earning soft look, a hurt look, (he looks like a sad puppy and it’s killing you.) “thank you for thinking i’m smart but you live with some of the smartest minds alive, you just don’t see how you are any sort of special or refreshing.)

your words were honest, yes you were smart but you were not babs or tim. yes, you had a masters degree in clinical research and are having successes with your new treatment for children’s leukemia, but that was luck not intelligence.

“none of them take me seriously.” his voice was small, over the last 4 years of knowing damian he was never small. “you always do.”

you thought your heart was going to explode, genuinely had a broken look on your face to mirror his own. but if you thought this moment with damian was breaking your heart than you clearly had no idea how jason was melting watching the two of you from the corner.

“because you deserve to be listened to damian.” you reached your hand that had been previously resting on his own, to his chin, tilting it up so his green eyes were blaring into your own, so you knew he was understand his words. “i know it’s hard, growing up here and trying to fit in-“

“that’s not the issue anymore y/n.” damian was quick to cut you off, stopping the speech that he had heard too many times over the last few weeks but you didn’t know that.

“so what is the issue than dami?” you questioned, your hands pushed off the base of his chin as his head turned down tot he board and making yet another move, leaving you confused as to how he keeps multiple attention strings on you and the game.

damian huffed, he really hated confrontation, he hated having to open up but with you he felt like you were so easy to talk to and you always understood, you never belittled him or told him no. last year he told you he could drive and you let him. damn near gave bruce and jason a heart attack but it made damian finally feel listened to.

damian had liked you since jason brought you home for the first time. he enjoyed how you didn’t treat him like a child and how you asked about his interests and really seemed to enjoy him talk about it. titus took a liking to you the following week when you had to stop by the manor to get something for jason. titus didn’t even bark instead he followed you around, waiting to lay down with you or go outside, that’s when damian knew you are a good person and he made the executive decision to “tolerate” you.

he hated though how everyone pointed out the fact that he took an instant liking to you, he hadn’t done that with anyone but the animals at the manor. he also hated that everyone would fake hurt because he called you by your first name and everyone else by their last. he didn’t do it on purpose, when he met you, you almost reminded him of someone his mother used to have around her and if she was not to be disrespected. he didn’t want to disrespect you. he felt like he knew you well and to put it plainly you were the perfect mix of todd, grayson, his mother, and father, and that’s what made you feel so much like his big sister.

“you don’t have to talk about it now dami, i’ll always be here if you need me.” you took the beat after his shy look to make another move on the board, calling checkmate before he even had time to process what just unfolded.

“you cheated.”

“i did not.”

“you must have, i never loose.”

“you just did.”

from the corner of the room, still undetected by both his soulmate and his brother, jason was smiling like a damn idiot. ear to ear at the interaction that just unfolded. finding you will always be the biggest triumph of his life.

but he knew if he didn’t intervene soon that cheese prices would be flying and the two sitting so peacefully, teasing at one another over the win and the loss, would not end well.

so here comes the night in a ‘fuck batman’ shirt and some grey sweats, to the rescue, still drunk off the fact that he could ever find someone as perfect as you.

“hey demon brat.” the two heads twisted the direction of the hallways, damian’s eyes narrowed into two slits and your eyes glowing blue as you smiled at the man now pushing his body off the wall. “can i have my girlfriend back?”

jason began the walk over to the couch, eyeing the original spot he had taken when he first encountered the pair in the living room, watching as his girl lightly moved away from the back of the couch to make room for his legs. but the movement of his legs were halted as he fully bodied his younger brother, who at some point during his staring encounter with his girlfriend had risen to his feet and was now blocking jason from getting any closer to the couch.

“move D” a huff supported the statement as jason didn’t even use the energy to look down at the 13 year old.

“change your shirt.” his younger brothers voice was cold, first balled up and pushing against his older brothers stomach in attempts to force him back to the room.

an eye roll and quick step to the side “no.”

“your disrespecting father.” damian started again, turning as jason started settling down into the couch behind you, hands instinctively going to your hair to play at the ends of it.

“he’s not my father.” a sing song voice answered the statement, causing damian to look at you, pleading for back up, which was responded with a head shake and a sad smile.

rule number one, never get between all four or even a pair of the brothers, it won’t end well for you.

“i’m calling father.” damian spoke aloud again, making jason’s hand freeze in your hair and body go stiff behind you.

“your bluffing.”

“i don’t bluff todd.”

and just like that the quite night home was over, the room was filled with laughter (from you) grunts, kicks, screams, and groans (from the boys) and the cheese prices falling on the floor which earned yet another lecture from damian to jason about how priceless the game of the mind is.

but let’s just say the morning was worse when jason was stilling wearing the fuck batman shirt and we ran out of damian’s favorite cereal.

“todd how are dare you not have it!”

“this is my house demon spawn! i don’t eat that shit!”

masters of none (jason todd x reader)

summary: welcome to my jason x celebrity fic, based on this headcanon. pls enjoy. 

word count: 5.2k

warnings: gun mention. food mention. 

part 2

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Salt, Tequila, Lemon - Jason Todd x Reader

Please read this intro, thank you very much :  

So. I posted this yesterday, but after a bug on the Tumblr app on my phone it got deleted. I’m super bummed out because it had over 200 notes and quite a few feedbacks that I never got to read because it was accidentally deleted…If the people that took the time to comment things on the story could take a bit more time to write a little comment again and give me their feedbacks, and also if the people that liked and reblog could do it once more…i’d appreciate the hell out of you <3.  So reposting it (thanks god I always have back ups of all my stories now). Written in twenty minutes during my break at work. Bam. Hope you’ll like it :

Also, since Tumblr’s new guidelines and enforcement of it, I DON’T really appear in searches anymore, so the only way for this story to be seen by others than those who follow me is to reblog it. So if you wanna, you can show your support for my writing by doing just that. Thanks very much. You can find my masterlist here : @ella-ravenwood-archives

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Ok. So. Grandma’s remedy against heartbreak ? Oh, right. 

Salt. Tequila. Lemon. 

Got it. Licking the back of your hand to make the salt stick to it, you pour yourself a massive shot of “To-Kill-Ya” in your coffee mug, not even caring about the fact that there is still some remnant of your cappuccino from last night in it. 

You focus on the sound the liquid makes as it fills your cup. Makes you think about something else. Good. Yup. This was totally gonna help right now. 

“Cheers”, you exclaim to yourself, your empty apartment echoing your voice. 

Salt. 

Wincing. Stingy. Salt on its own is gross. 

Tequila. 

More wincing. Oh my god, it burns. The coffee that was still at the bottom of the cup is an oddly nice touch. 

Lemon. 

The last of the Wincing. 

You spit the piece of lemon you just bit into in the trash and…miss. The yellow fruit falls with a little flat sound on the floor, and you honestly can’t bother to pick it up. Your apartment is a mess anyway, so you just stare at it angrily and pour yourself another drink. 

Salt. Tequila. Lemon. 

You gulp the last of the citrus and shiver. Miss the trash again. 

Damn. This was good. 

Well, actually, it was disgusting. 

You didn’t like strong alcohol and what the Hell ?! Why did you leave a bit of coffee in your cup ? Now that the aftertaste was kicking in, it was actually really gross. If the tequila itself didn’t make you wanna throw up, the stale coffee taste nearly did. Oh, and the salt and lemon combination was as awful as ever. 

You really didn’t like salt, tequila, or lemon. 

But it was still good. 

Because thanks to all this immediate awfulness, you could slowly feel yourself drift into “haze land”, and forget about your worries. 

Forget that your boyfriend of two years just cheated on you with some random woman you worked with. Woman that, by the way, he met at the Christmas “end of the year” party from you work you invited him to…You gave him free champagne and mise-en-bouche and all your love, and he broke your heart. 

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