Febreze air mist

Lohen would be jealous of you interacting with anyone who he perceived as a rival towards your affection, calling them a homewrecker.

Meanwhile you are often wondering why the knight of the 5th company is stalking you and following you around like a Chihuahua that loves you but wants to kill you.

Honestly from his personality you might assume he might have a personal vendetta against you, did you upset him in any way. While you were thinking, lohen is behind the wall giggling like a school girl watching you.

You officially have lost count on how many times varka have to apologize to you due to lohen chaos, meanwhile lohen is starring daggers towards varka for talking to you "like how dare he".

Lohen would want to ask for a spar with you or a lesson from you, either way you can mentor him when he is sparring you. Towards lohen, the most perfect date with you is basically a sparring session with you–that's all he ever asked, but if you want to go towards a fancy dinner sure why not.

The antenna on his hair has grown to be a six sense to alert him when you are near. Imagine you are getting a pastry at a bakery and when you look at the window, lohen is pressing his nose on the window fogging it up while looking at you with those love sick eyes.

The reader is trying to read in peace, meanwhile lohen :

Cass had then kindly offered to take you inside and wrap it up for you, which you accepted, unexpecting of the plus-one of Dick trailing behind you like a guilty puppy all the while.

“You know I didn’t mean to grab you that hard right? I—” 

Cass laughs quietly as she wraps the bandage around your wrist, amused by Dick’s now-third explanation/apology for the incident. 

“I know, Dick,” you say, trying to appease him. 

“I’m sorry,” he tells you genuinely, but you can tell there’s more there that he isn’t verbalizing.

You nod, “I know, Dick. It’s okay. It was just an accident.”

Cass pins the wrapping in place securely and with a smile, signs to you that she’s all done. 

You rotate your arm a bit, testing your movement under the wrap. As Cass leaves with the first aid kit, Dick remains sat at your side, leg thumping up and down.

He takes a deep breath, “What if…what if you avoid him until it heals?”

“Dick.”

He takes your uninjured hand in his with urgency in his eyes.

He looks down at your jointed hands before loosening his already mild grip significantly.

“Are you going to tell him?” he asks, looking like he’s bracing for bad news.

You shake your head sympathetically, “No. I can’t guarantee you that he won’t find out, but I won’t tell him.”

Dick takes a deep breath, looking at the ground with intense focus. “Okay. Okay.” He stands, “I need to go.”

You watch in amused bewilderment as he staggers out the door, looking around frantically. 

Within the next few minutes, he creates and enacts his plan A. He walks into the living room, sitting down next to a very disinterested Tim, eyes forward and serious.

“I’ll give you two grand right now if you tell him it was you.”

Tim barks out, “Absolutely not.” He looks at his brother, still laughing. “No fucking way.”

Dick breaks the serious facade immediately, looking at him. “Five.”

A deadpan from Tim. 

“You don’t have five thousand dollars.”

Dick throws his head back, back thudding against the couch. “Dude, please! He’ll kill me!”

Tim scoffs, “He’d kill me!”

Dick huffs, “No, it’s different for me! Do you have any idea how many times he told me not to do that?” 

“Well then it sounds like you fucked up,” Tim sneers.

“Oh my God.”

He takes off again, combing through different rooms in the house with hope of finding a quick but effective hiding place for, say, the next twenty years?

He bursts through the study, unwittingly interrupting Bruce and Alfred having a discussion over tea.

The latter sits up with a tense brow, “Master Dick?”

The former turns around in his seat, “What’s the matter?”

Dick struggles for a second before confessing, “I accidentally sprained someone's wrist.” 

Bruce scans his face slowly, nodding. “Alright…you’ll have to take responsibility for their patrol duties—”

Dick cuts him off with a sharp breath, “Said person doesn’t have any patrol duties to be affected...”

Bruce processes for a moment before shaking his head.

“I can’t help you.”

Dick’s panic takes over again, prompting him to continue his scurry through the room, towards the other door.

Alfred interrupts his process with a very logical argument, “You don’t think running away will make this worse, Master Dick?”

“I—I don’t know!” Dick whines, stopping in his tracks. “I don’t know what to do!”

Bruce purses his lips, gesturing, “Dick, when you make a mistake…you have to submit to the consequences, you know that.”

Dick gapes, “This is not a normal consequence!”

Meanwhile, you’ve busied yourself with fiddling with the knick knacks and mementos lining the shelves of Jason’s childhood bedroom. 

You’re admiring a picture of him and Alfred from when he was young as the door creaks open behind you. 

“Sweetheart?” Your boyfriend calls out, head barely poked in through the crack.

“Hey, Jay,” you smile, setting the picture frame back on the shelf.

He enters fully, covered in motor oil and grease, and smiles his sweet, easy smile when he sees you. 

Moving onto the next trinket on the shelf, you pick up a stuffed animal placed intentionally at the front. Your gaze finds the mirror, watching his reflection as he pulls the stained shirt off his back. 

You smile to yourself, noticing the way his back muscles flex as he adjusts. “How’s the bike?”

“Better than it was this morning,” he sighs. “Where’ve you been?”

He turns around to look at you, taking easy steps towards you. 

You return the toy elephant to its place, moving to face him. “Uh, we were outside, playing…at least three separate games at once.”

The second you’re in proximity, your hands join like it’s second nature. 

He nods, all too familiar with the family’s unique methods of gamefair.

“Did th—” He looks down at your intertwined hands, brow furrowing as soon as he spots the bandage wrapped around your wrist. “What happened?”

You glance down, shrugging. “Overexerted myself playing tag.”

He looks at you skeptically, but says nothing about it.

He turns your hand over gently, asking, “Is it sprained?”

You nod, relaxed. “Yeah. Cass said it’s mild.”

“Does it still hurt?”

“No,” you say, sweeping his hair back with your other hand. “Barely hurt then.”

He nods, but he doesn’t look satisfied with the conversation.

Regardless, he turns away again, shuffling through a drawer for a clean shirt. 

“You, uh, you wanna stay for dinner tonight?” he asks, pulling his arms through, his head following. 

“Yeah,” you say gaily. “Alfred said he’s making his ‘special spaghetti’, apparently it’s a household favorite?”

He wavers, halfway to between decisions. “Yeah…”

He huffs quietly, turning back to face you fully. “Can I see it?”

You nod, happy to ease his mind. 

You start to unwrap the bandaging, him doing half the work for you. The work is done silently until your wrist is exposed, revealing your bruised skin.

You both see it at the same time—the hand-shaped bruise wrapped around your wrist.

You’re both quiet for a second—him putting pieces together and you waiting for the shoe to drop.

He takes off suddenly, clearly having come to a likely very accurate conclusion about what had happened.

“Fucking idiot—”

You try for his hand but he’s out of reach before you can grab it.

“I’ll be right back,” he grumbles behind him.

“Jason—” you sigh, “At least help me wrap it back up first.”

He hesitates, halfway to the door, ultimately returning to you in defeat. He takes your forearm gently, scanning it over again before beginning to wrap it.

You watch his face closely, noting the clear vexation. “It was just an accident,” you tell him. 

He scoffs, “It better have been.”

You drop your shoulders and lull your head to the side. “Jason. I’m not made of glass, you can’t expect other people to act like it.”

“I don’t. I expect him to mind his own strength, and if he can’t do that, he needs to keep his fucking hands to himself.”

You sigh, “Just don’t do anything harsh. Please. I think he’s worried you’re gonna punch him.”

“He should be,” he says shortly. He finishes off the wrapping, pinning it in place firmly. 

You grab onto his forearm before he can pull away, “You’re not going to. Right?”

He doesn’t answer so you try to make his gaze meet yours, “Right?”

His eyes roll, “Yeah, fine.”

You smile, holding his face. “I love you.”

He huffs as though he’s inconvenienced, but confesses the obvious truth nonetheless. “I love you.”

He looks you in the eye, face serious. “You promise me it doesn’t hurt?”

“I promise,” you nod, brushing your fingers against his palm.

“Dick!”

The angry voice bellows through the tall halls of the manor, heavy footsteps thudding.

He stomps into the living room, Tim, Cass, and Stephanie watching the entryway with wide eyes. 

“Where is he?”

Unwitting shoulders shrug and heads shake. Truthfully, at that. Dick, smartly, did not tell anyone where he was hiding. 

Jason scans the trios faces, looking for any sign of apprehension.

He clocks the grin shamelessly plastered across his sister's face quickly. “Stephanie?”

“I don’t know,” she says honestly. “But let me know when you find him, I wanna see—”

But Jason’s moving onto the next room before she can get the last words out.

He enters the dining room, looking right to left before finding his target, halfway to stuffing himself behind the fine china cabinet in the corner.

There’s a brief, tense moment in between where the pair realize what they’re seeing and when Dick sets off in a sprint towards the kitchen, Jason quick on his tail. 

“Really? Really?” Jason shouts. 

“It was an accident! It was a fucking—” 

He narrowly dodges a swipe from Jason, then ducking before a ladle could make contact with his head.

“Are you stupid? Are you the dumbest motherf—”

Dick rounds the kitchen island as fast as possible, Jason testing him on the other side.

Dick takes a breath, “Dude, it’s fine now, it’s not that big of a—”

Jason recoils, “‘It’s not a big deal’? Come here. Let me sprain your wrist, asshole!”

He circles the counter quicker than the elder boy can think to move away and lunges at him. 

Dick throws his hands up in front of him, “Wait, wait, wait! Truce! Truce! Truce?”

Jason drops his shoulders, leveling his older brother with a look. “You can’t call a truce if you’re the only one who did anything wrong.”

“I…” It doesn’t take him long to piece together that his defense makes no sense, so he resorts to his last option. 

“Please?” Dick asks, nothing short of imploring. 

Jason relents—slightly—upon hearing his brother's tone, but still finds it in him to shove him, though not nearly as hard as he’d been planning to. 

“I told you a hundred fucking times not to grab her so hard—” 

Dick nods heavily, waving a hand. “I know, I know—”

“Clearly you fucking don’t!” Jason shouts. He huffs, running a hand over his face. “You sprained her wrist. You’ve been doing this vigilante shit for fifteen years, how do you still not fucking know how to control your own strength?”

Dick grimaces, “I do! I do, I just screwed up, I’m sorry!”

“Don’t—” Jason narrowly holds back a scowl, “Did you apologize to her?”

 “Yeah, of course I did!”

For a split second, Jason looks ready to keep arguing before purposefully dropping the anger from his body. 

The resulting relief almost drowns Dick.

It only lasts a moment though, before Jason looks at him again, sneering, “Idiot,” before pushing him once more. 

“Jason.”

Your voice has Jason dropping all turbulence in an instant. He and Dick both whip their heads towards the door, equally unexpecting of the interruption. 

You tilt your head at your boyfriend with a knowing but disappointed stare.

He looks back at you like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, lips parted.

“I didn’t hit him.”

The bar name-light flickers its neon-self above the pair of you, some generic name you wouldn’t remember in the slosh of Gotham nightlife, but still in the better part of town. You’d sent him your location, obviously, he’s not a possessive friend but it’s…Gotham.

You’re in a dress that Jason immediately identifies as way too thin for this weather, wanting to strip his jacket off and wrap it around you. The only reason you’re a few inches taller than him momentarily is because you’re standing atop a few stair steps as he stands just in front of you at ground level.

“What’re you doing ‘ere?” You drawl sweetly, head swimming in intoxication and cheeks tinted rosy pink, the smell of alcohol apparent. “You called me, sweetheart.” Jason murmurs, glancing around to take note of your surroundings.

“You feel nice.” You sigh as you circle your arms around his neck instinctively, one of his palm still holding you up and the other gently taking your purse from off your shoulder. The stance causes you to lean in closer, your face only inches away from his but he’s too focused on whatever he was doing.

When you’d first met this very man in the Gotham City Library, you were quite taken with him, enamoured even, and when you two fell into the deep traps of friendship, you pushed every whisk of what you felt for him deep, deep into your heart, but the alcohol was certainly loosening you up.

“Oh, yeah?” He asks absentmindedly as he manoeuvres you to get the bag, using the hand that’s not around you to zip open the bag. Your eyes droop with exhaustion and plain sleepiness, your head then swoops down, falling into the crook of his neck, jacket pressing against your forehead. “Hey, we gotta go—” Jason starts.

Jason was, as some might say, an overbearing and overprotective friend. But hey, this is Gotham and he was one of the only good men left. After seeing the darkest horrors of this godforsaken city firsthand, Jason’ll be damned back to hell if he let anything happen to you. So when he practically over-assured you that you should call him if you got too sloshed, that’s exactly what you did.

“You’re warm, Jay.” You mumble against him as your nose slowly lifts off his shoulder and glides up his neck. And he was! Gotham is always so cold and Jason is always so warm! Your arms tighten around him as Jason plucks out the car’s keys from your purse.

“Let’s get in your car, ‘kay? It’ll be comfortable in there—” Jason starts but you let out a content sigh, leaning your entire body weight against him, letting yourself let into his embrace as sleep presses on your eyes.

“And you’re like,” You mumble as your nose bumps into Jason’s ear, causing an steady shiver to pass from Jason’s head to toe, your breath fanning over his ear and down his throat. “Muscular…” Your arms unwrap from him and palms start to map out his shoulders as you lean back with a drunken pout. “…And so big.”

“Quit sexualising me, doll.” Jason chuckles nervously as he gazes across your face, then you lean back a little too much, enough to tip you onto the back of your heels, your entire body toppling backwards again. Jason sighs as his arm around your waist keeps you steady. “Let’s get out of here, yeah?” He nod like he’s trying to convince you, talking slow.

Jason had had been cursing himself for a long time, probably since he first met you. He should’ve walked away, the moment he saw you across the library, giggling while talking to a group of kids around you, he should turned around and taken firm steps out. But he didn’t. What did he do instead? He walked right to you and ask where a book was.

And then you smiled at him, and he smiled back from across the shelves and Jason was done. Then it was the week after that and the next, it was coffee and baked goods, and then here he was, hopelessly, deeply, and irrevocably, in love with you. You smiled at him, and hugged him, and called him your friend.

And to think he might’ve pulled a civilian into his fucked-up life just because he couldn’t help himself to stay out of your presence? The thought keeps him up and night and sources many of his nightmares to say the least. But right now, he was more focused on getting you into bed safely.

Your palms trace their way down his triceps, down to his elbow on each hand and back to his shoulders, pressing against the leather of his jacket. It’s not your fault that you’d always been partial to muscular men, tall muscular men at that. And Jason was all that along with being well read? Whoa.

He’s always had the prettiest eyes, it’s something you loved looking at, a kaleidoscope that traps your gaze and doesn’t let it waver, said eyes now narrowing at you out of concern and worry, classic Jason.

Thoughts in your head were swirling, not arranging themselves in the correct order. He has pretty lips too. Jason’s lips move as he says something but you don’t catch it over a fight that breaks out between three guys down alleyways.

You blink sluggishly as he tried to get your attention again. “Hey. Hey, stay awake for me, doll.” His voice is almost far away when all you can register in your head is how pretty he looks. Your arms go back to their safe place around his neck, his eyes filled with concern. Gosh, you couldn’t even care anymore. All you wanted right now, all that your brain was telling you right now, was to kiss him.

So you do, you lean in, going to close the last few inches and smoosh your lips into his. It takes Jason a moment to register what you’re doing, turning his face to the side at the very last moment, “Nope.” Jason’s voice is strained as your forehead bumps into his temple and a whine escape your throat.

Jason clears his throat, “Not when you’re drunk, c’mon baby.” You perk up at his words, leaning back to look at him properly. “So when I’m not drunk? Then we can kiss?” You pout, rosy cheeks and stray damp hair sticking to your face.

“If you still want to.” Jason nods. This isn’t helping the rate at which his heart is racing, all he can do is hope you can’t hear the thud-thud from his chest. Your mouth stretches into a happy smile, your head tilting as your cheeks become redder, not from the alcohol this time.

“Okay.” You quip as your head swoops back down to his shoulder. Jason takes a moment to compose himself, taking a deep breath of Gotham’s humid night before he whispers into your ear.

“Can I pick you up?” Jason mumbles, one hand still around your waist and one holding onto your purse and car keys. He can came back later and get his bike, he’s definitely not taking you home on that when you’re drunk. He shakes you just a little, prompting your name. “Baby, can I pick you up?”

You nod weakly into his body, honestly you didn’t even care, you just liked being in his arms. It takes a moment for him to manoeuvre you as his free hand slips under your knees, hiking you up into a princess carry, making sure your dress is keeping you covered. Your hands stay around his neck, stealing warmth from his body.

“You’re so pretty, Jay.” You mumble as you manage to blink your eyes open for a moment, catching a glimpse of him under the flickering streetlights and Jason flushes red.

ᯓ★'s P.S. idk this one is soooo messy cause i had the backstory in my head but i did nawtttt want to actually type it into the story and then i couldn’t figure out where to fit it in—ill shut up now. and the ending is lowkey 🤮 because i rushed to finish it

don't forget to comment to reblog if you enjoyed!

← ゛masterlist ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆