008

“Don’t start.” You huffed, burying your face in the pillow briefly as you grumbled. “It’s been a week and nine days. You know how much I hate sleeping without you.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Oracle slipped away and it was just Babs, warm and velvety like home. “I keep reaching over for you at night,” she whispered. “Keep thinking about you. The way you kiss me… how your eyes get so teary when you need me.”

You bit your lip as it trembled. “Barbie… I’m aching for you.”

“Tell me where it hurts, sweetheart.”

You shivered. “Between my legs. I’ve been wet since I heard your voice.”

“Mmm. My poor girl. All worked up and no one there to take care of you.” Her tone shifted into that perfect commanding lilt she used when she was running point. “Tell me what you’d do if I were there right now.”

You shifted on the bed, already feeling warm under her imagined gaze. The ache in your abdomen grew hotter by the second, and you squeezed your eyes shut, recalling every curve and contour of her body as if she was right next to you.

“You’re so beautiful,” You breathed, a hand sliding down your stomach and under the waistband of your sleepwear. “I’d pull you on my lap… push those pretty panties down your thighs, and feel how wet you already are for me.” A palm hovered over your clothed cunt. “Are you wet, baby?

“I’m fucking soaked.” She exhaled slowly. “Been like this since you said you missed me the first time.”

“What are you wearing?”

Barbara stifled a giggle at the cliche, but it broke through and you scoffed in her ear. “Oh, fuck you, I’m working with what I have,” you complained. “Tell me, I wanna know.”

The smile remained in her voice, light and teasing. “That Gotham U hoodie you left here a while back.”

“Is your hair down?”

“Perv,” she huffed. “Yes. And no, I’m not wearing panties, I took them off. The glasses too.”

You let out a shaky breath, fingers finally pressing down over your clit through the thin fabric of your panties. The relief was immediate but nowhere near enough. “Fuck, Babs… you’re killing me.”

Barbara hummed approvingly. “Good girl. Spread your legs wider for me. I want you to talk to me, okay?”

You obeyed, thighs falling apart. The cool air hit your soaked cunt and you whimpered, you folds weeping as you rucked your panties down to your ankles.

“Touch your clit, baby. Slow circles. Just like I do with my tongue when I’m teasing you.”

Your fingers slid down, slick and eager. The first gentle rub made you moan her name. “Shit— Barbie…”

“I know, baby. I can hear how wet you are.” Her voice dropped lower. “I’m touching myself too. Grinding my clit into my hand thinking about that pretty pussy. You always get so desperate when you’re away from me.”

One finger on your clit turned into your index and middle, rolling the sensitive bud in figure-eights then pinching it softly between the knuckles. “So good, baby, missing your cute little tits right now… so fucking soft…”

You trembled from the memories of your time together. Barbara beneath you, her pretty tits bouncing as you suckled a sensitive nipple into your mouth.

“I miss you so much,” she rasped, the faint wet sounds of her touching herself came from the other end of the line. “I’m so fucking wet thinking about you. My good girl, touching herself for me miles away. Such a needy slut for Oracle’s voice, aren’t you?”

You whimpered, rubbing tighter circles as your other hand slid up to squeeze one of your breasts as if it was hers. Your hips bucked forward to chase the stimulation.

Barbara’s breathing was getting heavier. “Let me fuck you, puppy. Come on, two fingers inside — stretch that little pussy like I trained you.”

You obeyed instantly, sliding two fingers into your dripping cunt with a wet sound that made Barbara groan softly in approval.

“That’s it… juuust like that,” she praised, her voice husky. “Curl them up, baby. Feel that spot? Right where you need me?”

A broken moan tore from your throat, tears leaking from your eyes as you followed her instructions, pumping slowly at first, then faster, the heel of your palm grinding against your swollen clit. “Babs—fuck, it feels so good… but it’s not enough. I need you.”

“I know, puppy.” Her breathing was ragged now, the faint rhythmic sounds of her fingers moving between her own legs filtering through the comm. “I wish I could be there to see you... Fuck yourself harder for me. I want to hear it. Let me hear how sloppy that pretty pussy gets from my voice.”

You cried, pumping your fingers faster, the obscene wet sounds filling the quiet safehouse as your other hand left your breast to grip the sheets, knuckles turning white. “Barbie… fuck, baby… wanna fuck you so bad— tell me you want it, tell me you want me inside you. Please, please…”

A low, pleased growl came through the comm. “I miss the way you fill me up— hah—! fuck, when you make me ride you til my thighs shake… wish I could bounce my pussy all over yours baby… need you to fuck me like that again.”

That needy, desperate switch in her tone that was almost begging, sent a fresh rush of heat through you. “There’s my girl,” you sighed in ecstasy. “Just needed to turn your fucking brain off for me…”

“Yes—fuck, yes,” she gasped. Her voice cracked beautifully, the wet sounds from her end growing louder and faster. “I need you, I need you so fucking bad, baby.”

You curled your fingers harder, thrusting deep as you took control. “Yeah? You want my cock stretching you open? Fucking up into that cute little cunt?”

“I’d be so good for you… riding you just how you like. Fuck, I miss you using me. Please, baby—fuck me...”

“Atta girl, Barbie….” You added a third finger with a moan, the stretch burning so perfectly. “Fuckin brat, you had your fun.”

Barbara whimpered at your tone.

“I know what you need.” You moaned. “Do it harder. Play with your clit for me.... Rub it fast while you finger that pretty cunt. I want you to imagine my cock buried inside you, pounding you deep while I hold your hips down.”

A high, broken sound escaped her lips, echoing in the tower’s halls that made your own pussy clench around your fingers.

“I’m—hah—I’m doing it. Feels so good… I’m so close already. You always make me lose it when you get like this.”

You fucked yourself harder, hips bucking off the bed as you withdrew your fingers and focused on your clit, chasing that edge right alongside her.

A sharp cry cut through the comm, followed by a string of breathy curses. “Baby—! I’m gonna cum—fuck, I’m gonna cum so hard—”

“Not yet,” you whined, even as your own breathing grew ragged. Then, softer, almost pleading, the plea in your tone clear. “Wait for me, baby. I wanna cum with you— I’m almost there, just hold on—”

The sloppy wet sounds of your arousal splashing and making mess from how rough you were made Barbara’s his shake with need. “You’re so good— so fucking good. Fuck yourself like that. Harder, baby— cum for me, cum all over my pussy.”

You shrieked, grinding faster, your poor clit throbbing from the overstimulation. “Babs—Barbie— fuck, I need you—”

“I’m yours,” she gasped, fingers pumping faster, each squelching sound making your eyes roll. “I’m yours— only yours—”

That raw, possessive edge in her voice mixed with total surrender sent you spiraling as you ground your palm against your swollen clit, thighs shaking violently as your climax began to crash through you. “Fuck—! Oh god, I’m gonna cum— cum for me, Barbie—”

Her orgasm hit her hard as you cried out her name, thighs shaking while she clenched around her fingers, hips jerking and voice hoarse with a low, throaty moan. Her head tipped back as she rode her own hand through it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” You moaned her name like a prayer, your pussy pulsing hard around your fingers as slick heat spilled down your thighs and onto the sheets, making a mess. “Jesus Christ— I’m shaking—”

“Ride it out, baby,” Barbara cooed, lightheaded and glowing.

For a long minute afterwards, the only sounds were your shared, ragged breathing and the faint city traffic outside.

Finally, she let out a soft, wrecked little laugh in your ear, the soft thump of her forehead hitting the keyboard making you smile. “Holy shit… I think I saw stars.”

You smiled, slowly pulling your hand away with a shiver, your body still tingling. “Mmm. Same. You sound so fucking pretty when you cum for me.”

“And you sound even prettier when you’re bossing me around,” she teased, voice warm and sated, full of affection. “Since when are you so mean to me?”

You chuckled, chest heaving. “Gotta keep you on your toes, Oracle. Can’t let you stay in control all the time.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She hummed happily, a faint wet pop sound on the other end. “I like it when you take care of me.”

The silence between you two settled with the warmth of the afterglow.

“You okay over there?” You eventually murmured, and she murmured an ‘mhm’ back to you.

“You should go clean up and get some actual sleep.” Barbara said, soft but firm. “You’ve got watch later.”

“Back to business even after you just came your brains out,” you murmured fondly. “How romantic”

“You love it.”

“I do. I really do.” You paused, heart full. You paused for a moment, then sighed. “I love you, Barbie. Miss you like crazy.”

“I love you more,” she whispered, soft and sincere. “Just hurry home to me, okay? Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“...Right,” you laughed. “I’ll behave.”

The silence settled again, and neither of you spoke between the sounds of heavy breathing.

As the line remained open and the minutes passed, Barbara’s breath soon turned even and slow, her comforting presence in your ear taking you under as exhaustion finally settled over you like a warm blanket.

“...I’ll come home to you,” you whispered.

Bruce noticed. Of course he did.

He raised an eyebrow, drying his hair with the towel. “What?”

You set the coffee down carefully. “You… have hair.”

He glanced down at himself, almost self-conscious for the first time in years. “It grows back when I stop shaving. The suit chafes otherwise.” He rubbed a hand over his chest, looking vaguely embarrassed. “It’s been a while since I let it. I can shave it if—”

“No,” you said quickly. Too quickly. “Don’t. It’s… nice.”

Bruce paused, then a slow, amused smirk tugged at his lips. “Nice?”

You crossed the kitchen, unable to stop yourself. Your hands slid up his chest, fingers threading through the soft hair there. It was thicker than you expected, warm from the shower, and felt ridiculously good under your palms.

“Really nice,” you murmured, voice a little breathless. You leaned in and pressed a kiss right over his sternum, then another, then another, working your way across his chest like you were discovering new territory.

Bruce’s breath hitched. His hands settled on your waist, thumbs stroking your sides through your robe. “You’re… very enthusiastic about this.”

“I’ve never seen you like this,” you admitted, kissing lower, right over his heart. “It’s… hot. You look like a real person. My husband. Not the polished billionaire or the statue in a suit.”

He let out a low, surprised laugh, but it turned into a soft groan when your lips brushed one of his nipples. His fingers tightened on your waist.

“Careful,” he warned, voice rougher now. “You keep doing that and I’m going to forget I’m supposed to be resting.”

You looked up at him, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Maybe I don’t want you to rest.”

Bruce’s eyes darkened. He cupped your face with one hand, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “You’re going to be the death of me, Mrs. Wayne.”

“Good death,” you whispered, rising onto your toes to kiss him properly.

The kiss started sweet but quickly turned heated. Bruce pulled you closer, one hand sliding into your hair, the other slipping under your robe to rest warm against your bare back. He kissed you like he’d been starving for it — deep, slow, full of all the love and want he usually kept so carefully controlled.

When you broke apart, both breathing harder, he rested his forehead against yours.

“I love you,” he said softly. “Even when you’re ogling me like I’m a science experiment.”

You laughed, pressing another kiss to his chest, right over the soft hair there. “I love you too. Especially when you’re all… natural like this.”

He groaned, half-embarrassed, half-pleased. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But I’m your ridiculous,” you corrected, kissing lower, lips brushing over his abs. “And I’m keeping you exactly like this for as long as you’re benched.”

Bruce’s hands tightened on your waist. “You’re going to kill me before I’m cleared for duty.”

You looked up at him with a wicked little smile. “Worth it.”

He pulled you back up for another deep kiss, hands roaming your body with that perfect mix of reverence and hunger. The robe slipped off one shoulder. His fingers traced the curve of your waist, then higher, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts.

You shivered, pressing closer, feeling the warmth of his chest hair against your skin. It was softer than you expected, and the way it brushed your nipples when you moved made you gasp softly.

Bruce noticed. Of course he did.

He smiled against your lips. “You really like this, don’t you?”

“Shut up,” you mumbled, kissing him again to hide your blush.

He chuckled, low and warm, and lifted you effortlessly onto the kitchen counter. His mouth moved to your neck, then lower, kissing and nipping gently across your collarbone. One hand slipped inside your robe, palming your breast, thumb circling your nipple until you arched into him with a soft moan.

“Beautiful,” he whispered against your skin. “My beautiful wife.”

You tangled your fingers in his hair, holding him close as he worshipped you with slow, deliberate kisses. The world outside the penthouse didn’t exist. There were no missions, no galas, no Batsuit waiting in the cave.

Just Bruce. Just you.

Just the two of you, tangled together in the morning light, rediscovering each other in the quiet weeks of his recovery.

When he finally pulled back, lips swollen and eyes dark with want, he rested his forehead against yours.

“I love you,” he said again, voice rough but sincere. “More than the suit. More than the money. More than anything.”

You smiled, cupping his face. “I love you too. Hairy chest and all.”

He laughed — bright, genuine, the kind of laugh that made your heart feel too big for your chest.

“Brat,” he murmured fondly, kissing you once more.

The coffee went cold on the counter. The city kept moving far below.

But in the warm glow of your kitchen, Bruce Wayne held you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

And for once, the detective didn’t need to solve anything, and he already had everything he needed.

a/n : this is unbearably self indulgent because I like body hair. Just wait till I start writing about biceps 😊

Talia loves giving gifts. She doesn’t need a reason for that. Valentines Day? Already got a gift. Anniversaries? Done. A very normal morning where you wake up next to her? You are woken up with a gift.

And she is so clever and creative with them, too. It’s like she knows you so well. She never runs out of ideas for presents.

Another way she shows her love for you— her beloved is her hugs.

In my opinion, Talia likes giving hugs and receiving them, too.

She finds hugs as comforting. She loves holding the body of her loved ones close to herself. She feels like she can keep them safe forever. It applies to you, also.

Every morning, expect a huge hug from her.

Also, I believe her embraces would be warm.

Since she is such a fashion icon and loves dressing in pretty clothes and dresses, another way of showing love would be shopping together.

She loves taking you out to shopping. She loves seeing you try new dresses and make her comment on each one.

And trust her comments because she won’t just say “pretty” and leave it— she will make actual criticism.

About the dress, about how it fits you, the color, the style… Everything possible. You can trust her judgement.

And of course, she doesn’t let you pay. It’s not because she thinks you are poor or cannot buy anything— it’s because she wants to. It’s just a small jest of hers.

She loves decorating her room to her liking, but when she has a lover, she wants her room to be to their liking, too.

So, she loves decorating together. Beautiful flowers, ivies, various teapots and candles…

Since I mentioned candles, I think she would think candles are such romantic accessories and would have them lit every night.

And they would be scented candles!

Also, I think she would love to play games together, such as chess.

Sometimes she would let you win to make you happy.

And another thing is bubble baths. She would love being in a bubble bath together. Kissing and drinking wine together while sitting in a bathtub full of bubbles and hot water…

And lastly!!! I think she would love braiding your hair. Or combing your hair. Or just playing with your hair… Anything that makes you relax into her arms.

you had been at wally’s for nearly three hours, and in that entire time he had spoken maybe five words to you in total. it was honestly impressive. especially considering he was the one who called you over in the first place. 

his voice had been low and rough through the phone, breathless beneath the sound of rushing wind as he said, “hey, you busy? come over. wanna see you.”

and naturally, like an idiot, you assumed that meant he wanted to let off some steam. maybe he wanted attention, maybe he wanted to kiss you stupid for an hour, maybe he wanted to fuck you and forget about his problems.

instead, wally sits hunched over his desk in grey sweatpants that hang low on his hips and a faded flash t-shirt that clings to his shoulders. his headset sits crooked over messy red hair while the glow of his monitor lit up half his face. 

you try being patient, you really do, but irritation won out. you slide yourself directly into his lap, causing wally to grunt softly from the sudden weight. one of his arms automatically wraps around your waist on instinct to steady you, but instead of finally looking at you, wally simply leans to the side so he could see around your shoulder, eyes still glued to the monitor.

“babe,” he mumbles distractedly, voice low and absent. “move your head a little. can’t see.”

a huff escapes your lips and you fight back the urge to roll your eyes. shaking your head, you place your hands on his shoulders and slowly rock your hips against his. that seems to get a reaction out of him.

wally grunts low in his throat, his hand on your waist tightening, his long fingers pressing into your skin of your hip. his eyes flick down at you for a moment, taking in how you were only wearing one of his old t-shirts and some underwear.

then, he was back to his game, fingers flying across his mouse and keyboard, eyes glued to the screen, and ignoring you completely again. frowning, you move your hips again, watching the way his jaw twitched ever so slightly. 

“come on, baby,” you whine into his ear. “pay attention to me.”

finally, finally, wally looks at you properly—his eyes slide over you, taking in your pouty lips and the frustrated set of your jaw. he sighs—a soft, tired sound—and lifts one hand to cup your jaw. his thumb grazes your cheekbone gently before he leans in… only to press a quick kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“just give me a minute,” he murmurs. “the game is almost finished—”

“you said that an hour ago,” you mumble, slowly grinding your hips down onto his.

wally tries to ignore the way your body rocks against his lap, but it’s difficult to keep his focus. despite his insistence in ignoring you, you could feel his cock twitch beneath you, growing harder with every movement.

it doesn’t take wally long until he's rock hard, pressing right against your thigh, the heat of him seeping through his sweatpants and the thin fabric of your underwear. 

his calloused thumb brushes over your bottom lip before pushing inside your mouth. you hum around the digit, feeling him press down on your tongue. he groans, low and deep, as you suck and swallow around it—the action making his hips stutter and buck up against yours.

you’re soaked—the fabric of your panties clinging to your skin as you roll your hips against hin, the thick head of his cock dragging through your folds. 

glancing down, your eyes catch sight of the damp little patch over his bulge—his cock leaking precum and mixing with your slick that seeped past the fabric of your panties and dripped down onto him.

wally slips his thumb out of your mouth—a string of saliva connecting your lips to him. his hand drops from your jaw and slowly sides up your back, beneath your shirt—fingers warm as they drag lightly against your skin. 

“fuck, baby,” he groans, guiding your hips with firm hands.

his breathing grows heavier as his lips find yours—messy and wanting, teeth grazing your bottom lip. a soft moan escapes him when you shift again in just the right way. you felt his cock twitch and before you could even think, wally’s lips were all over you—the soft curve of your shoulder, down your neck, across your chest, under your jaw, the skin behind your ear, everywhere they can reach.

both your movements became desperate—each roll of his hips was deliberate, grinding up against you with a slow, tortuous rhythm that made the tension coil tighter in both of you. wally’s breath turns uneven—sharp little inhales through his nose as the friction builds. 

every grind sends a pulse of pleasure straight to his core, and fuck, it feels amazing. wally buries his face in your neck, biting down gently to try and stop the quiet moan escaping his lips when you rolled your hips once again.

he rocked up against you again slowly—a deep grind that made him shudder. there was a subtle edge to his breathing now. a hint of tension that hadn’t been there before. like he was on the edge of unraveling and just needed one more push—one more thing to break that last thread of control.

wally’s breath came in shallow, uneven gasps. his body tenses—every muscle coiling tight. then it happened. with one final slow, deliberate roll of your hips against his—he shudders, whole body going rigid for a split second before melting into your arms. 

his hips continue to rock against you weakly, his cock throbbing as he releases into his boxers. wally can barely think—his body a mess, thighs burning, skin sticky, but he doesn’t give a fuck. 

“not interested in your game anymore?” you tease, gently scratching the nape of his neck.

“fuck the game,” wally huffs, standing up with you in his arms and walking over to his bed. “this is much, much better.”

It's a random Tuesday as Bruce, and you stand in the middle of your grandfather's beloved attic. The wooden floors creak under your weight, dust particles moving in spirals as the early rays of sunshine flit through the glass panes of the dormer window. Your mother had asked for your help in cleaning your grandparents' place, and so you pulled in Bruce - offering him a break from his corporate duties, which he gladly agreed to.

"Wow, I did not realise my grandad hoarded so many things", you say, looking at the vast number of trinkets and boxes stacked along the walls on both sides of the attic. Each was well organised, with a label pasted on the top.

"Your grandad was a man of culture", Bruce chuckles, looking at the various band posters from the 40s and 50s. There were even autographs from some of them, neatly preserved.

Both of you got to work immediately, knowing it would be hours before everything was cleaned out. You had decided to split the work by concentrating on different ends of the triangular room.

Bruce had struck gold by ending up in the corner where your granddad had seemed to store much of the photo albums and cassettes, stacked on top of each other, labeled in detail about what the insides contained. It gave Bruce an insight to your family, a family from looking at the albums that had photos from back since your grandparents got married, having their daughter — your mother, to her getting married, and having you.

He had seen a lot of your photos since the early days of dating, but these were different. Your grandfather was an avid photographer, and Bruce could sense it through the varied angles and poses that he made everyone do.

"Having fun, huh?" you mumble, looking at Bruce as he suppresses a chuckle while looking at the pictures of you — a two-year-old, wearing a princess gown and a wand gripped tightly within your grubby fingers.

"You get stuck with the more fun part, while I have to dust some old documents", you grumble, looking at files and files of documents.

"Do you wanna exchange, sweetheart?"

"Nope," you say, emphasizing the 'p' as you shift to the next box, "Besides, I like hearing you laugh, even if it comes at the cost of my pictures"

An hour passes by.

You had finished four out of the twelve boxes. Heaving a sigh, you decide it's time for a well-deserved break. And what better to do than annoy your beautiful husband?

"Bruce, Brucie Wayne," you turn to look at him at the lack of any response "Bruce?"

Bruce doesn't answer, his broad back turned towards you. There is something different in the air from a few minutes ago, almost tinged with melancholic fragrance. You move towards, hoping to see what made him go so still, only to let out a gasp when you see it.

There you were, maybe five or six years old, wearing a large doctor's coat that reached well beyond your limbs, dragging onto the marble floor and a cute pink stethoscope around your neck. But that was not what made you gasp; it was the couple you were standing with in the photo.

Thomas and Martha Wayne.

Both of them were crouched next to you on either side. Thomas Wayne in his fitting black suit paired with a dark blue silk necktie embellished with motifs, while Martha Wayne wore a simple black silk dress paired with a blue plaid jacket.

There was a tiny piece of description below the photograph, a little shabby, like your grandpa wasn't sure what to write.

' Y/N & famous couple from Gotham (VHS #155)'

Bruce let out a laugh— loud but bittersweet. It made sense for your grandad to not know them, considering the only people he thought to be rich were the Queens.

You looked at Bruce, his eyes a little glazed as you cupped his face, fingers rubbing against the expanse of his cheek. Pressing a small kiss on his forehead, you whisper, "Shall we watch the VHS tape?"

He hums as you both try finding the exact tape among two hundred of them. Once retrieved, you dust the Toshiba VCR at the corner, pulling it slightly towards the center. You and Bruce try to get it to start since it probably hasn't been used in a while.

After a few minutes, the VCR lights up. Inserting the tape, you press play, and both of you stand back, Bruce's arm over your shoulder as you lay your head on his chest, arms wrapped around his waist.

The VCR displays a blue gradient before buzzing to a grainy film of you in a purple and pink frock , smiling widely at the camera. There's a lot of noise around you — people clapping , speeches being read as your grandad records the stage when Thomas Wayne was giving his speech. Bruce shifted a little, hand holding yours a little tighter, from hearing his father's voice after so many years.

The video then shifts to you, standing in front of the couple, wearing a pink stethoscope and a white coat a little too large for your frame. Martha Wayne smiles , a smile so radiant, before crouching down to her knees as she shakes your hand.

"Hi, there. What's your name?"

You say your name before letting out a giggle at her calling you beautiful.

"You want to be a doctor when you grow up?" She asks, hands pointing at the instrument hanging around your neck.

"Yes, ma'am. I want to be a heart doctor," you say, peering at the woman beside you. Thomas Wayne smiles before exchanging pleasantries with your grandfather.

"Oh, that's wonderful! You will be a great doctor one day, my dear."

And with that, the VHS comes to an end.

Bruce sniffles a little , his hands holding your waist, chin placed on top of your head. Silence fills the space along with the sounds of your nieces playing around the house. You don't know how long the both of you stayed like that, but it could have been forever, and you didn't mind at all.

Bruce is beyond happy. While it may not be visible to the naked eye, you could feel the joy emanating from the open crevices of grief and gaps of affection. He was happy that you —his wife, the love of his life — had met his parents. And they had gotten the chance to meet you.

Perhaps both of you really were soulmates.

A/N: Comments and Reblogs appreciated! Writing something for bruce after a long time.

the events of the prior night plagued you through visions. his arms — the way they flexed with each turn of the wheel, the way his body leaned closer to yours as he retrieved his sweater from the back seat. 

his words stuck to your back for the rest of the night. "see you tomorrow, pretty girl," landing and ironing itself to your skin. 

you recalled his scent — vanilla musk, mint, and the faintest hint of the cigarette he had smoked earlier that clung to the tips of his hair.

in front of you was a familiar scene. dark wash jeans, and a black t shirt. brown boots. body laid supine on a trolly underneath your car.

"how long do you think this will take?" you asked, cringing slightly from the chair's loud screeching.

"tryna get away from me that quickly, darling?" he called back. you hear the smirk in his words. smug bastard. "i'm just getting started down here." 

"tim said that you said it would be an easy fix," 

jason's only response was a hum of confirmation. he hadn't lied — it was an easy fix. but he couldn't bring himself to let you leave just yet. he couldn't. he was selfish, he knew, he wanted to stay in your presence just a little longer. because you… you were off limits. you would go back to your life — school, work, tim, your friends. jason didn't believe that he needed to fit into your life alongside those factors.

"that it wouldn't take long?" you continued after his lack of response. 

"that was before i saw what a mess your car is," 

"shark is reliable," your voice rang back defensively. your car was beautiful. a 99 chevy cavalier. perfect for you. 

"you named your car 'shark'?" his lip curled above his top teeth. of course you had named your car. you had seemed like the type who would. the name was cute, jason would admit, you were cute, but denying it was easier than admitting it. 

"yeah," your tone was flat, defensive. "it's grey, and strong — therefore, a shark."

"right," jason agreed for your sake. the name of your car didn't change his life in any way. he rolled himself out from the undercarriage and stood in front of the hood of your car. 

he took a moment to inspect and assess. seeing him in his element was mesmerizing. his calculating gaze showed care and experience. his eyes roved over each part, and how they worked together. 

"come here," his voice called out, head nodding invitingly. your feet were moving over to him before your brain even realized it was happening. he was a magnet, one that you didn't think you could stay away from even if you wanted to. 

"see this?" he murmured as he stepped to the side to make room for you. you nodded. his finger remained pointing to a part on top of your engine. "that big thing is your engine. and this is your valve. it's leaking and is what is causing problems." 

you nodded again in understanding, leaning your upper half closer to inspect it. jason tried to keep his gaze on your car as well, and keep from wandering down your back. but fuck you were so close to him. and the smell of your perfume was flooding his senses. his fingers hovered on the small of your back, fingers brushing the hem of your tank top — black this time, and just as tantalizing. 

"the good thing is, your engine is fine," he explained. his words were so close to your ear, and you were aware of his proximity to your back. the way his "want me to show you how to fix it?" 

your head tilted back over your shoulder to regard him. his face was so close to yours, close enough to cause your breath to hitch in your throat. 

"yeah? so i can take your job?" the corner of your lip twitched upward. 

jason's expression softened fractionally, his eyes roving over your face. "you think that's how this works?"

words died in your throat. his gaze on you almost stopped your heart. your lips parted to respond, a witty response ready and shaped under your tongue. yet all you could do was press your lips back together and turn back towards the car. jason was entranced by the curve of your mouth. his own mind was short-circuting, just the same as yours. at the sight of your lips pressed together, he took that as a sign to step up closer behind you. 

"okay," he murmured, his arm circling you. his biceps caged you in, pressing against your shoulders. "we are gonna take this rag and wrap it around here,"

his voice was breathy against your ear, but still low and controlled. his weight against your back was grounding, yet completely debilitating. every ridge, every crevice of his chest pressed into you. 

"and then, we're gonna pull," a loud pop followed the end of jason's sentence. your eyes remained on your engine under the valve, scanning, questioning. 

jason's own gaze remained fixed on your face. your fascination, your concern, was evident on your features. your brows dipped slightly as your mind worked around the inner workings of your car — he was speechless by the sight. 

clearing his throat, he let go of your hand and removed himself from behind you. "and, she's all fixed up,"

you immediately felt the loss. a steady chill crawled up the back of your spine. his chest had been so warm and solid against your back. a small part of you was upset at how easily jason fixed your car. you almost wished there was more wrong in order to spend more time caged in by his arms. 

"thanks for fixing her up," you turned to face the front of him, gaze lifted to meet his. his height was towering, no matter the size of your own body. he commanded space. took it up without meaning to — without even wanting to. he was inescapable, a large mass that captured your attention. "how much do i owe you?" 

"don't worry about it," his response was short. dismissive. nonchalant. his arm reached by your head, unhooking the hood of your car and letting it shut.

"jason." you stated, disbelieving. "i'm serious." 

"so am i," 

"just tell me how much i owe you,"

"nothing. was a favour for your boyfriend," he shrugged, his expression remaining unchanging. 

"he's not my boyfriend," your face contorting into a look of disgust. tim was the last person you would choose to date. especially when there was someone else on your mind, someone who happened to be standing in front of you. 

"right, well, still a favour for the piece of shit," 

you gave him a look at his choice of words to describe tim. there were a few beats of silence between the two of you. 

"shop policy is that we need to test run the car," he gave you a sidelong glance, his hand brushing over the hood. "make sure it's running properly." 

"you do this with all your clients?" you raised a brow, unconvinced. 

"can't let you go unless i know you're safe in that thing," he ignored your question, "in good conscious." 

"do i get to drive?" you raised a brow. 

"in your dreams," his voice muttered. he had already opened the passenger door of your car, hand gestured for you to get in. 

"it's my car and i don't even get to drive," you snarked, slipping by him, your back brushed against his chest again briefly. 

"as long as you're with me, you don't have to touch the wheel again," jason's voice was barely above a breath, words uttered as he shut the door after you got settled. 

he hoped you hadn't heard. 

he hadn't even known why he said those words. he didn't mean them. he didn't know you, and he didn't want to know you. 

you were tim's friend, not his. 

﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒

the front of your hood burnt the bottom of your thighs. 

how you ended up in the meadow on the outskirts of town was beyond you. 

jason was perched beside you, arms folded as he gazed at the over grown grass.

"this place is quite far from town," your voice drifted into jason's ears alongside the gentle breeze that swayed the grass. 

he nodded, his eyes fixed ahead. 

you left it at that, following his gaze ahead. there was peace in the view. an endless expanse of green that contrasted with the cut of the sharp blue sky. 

"i come here quite often," he responded after a while of silence, turning to gaze up at you. 

"peaceful," you added. you didn't feel the need to add more, he understand what you were implying with your words. "do you ever go sit in the field?"

he shook his head, "i like to watch from here,"

you pushed yourself off the hood of your car, feet landing on the road below. rocks crunched under the sole of your shoes, dust settling into the ankles of your jeans. "well then, let's go,"

"no," he shook his head, shifting against the hood. he looked down, knowing that if he continued to look into your eyes he would give in. jason felt himself wanting to give him, wanting to do whatever you wanted. and it was terrifying him. 

you rolled your eyes at his response, "come on, jason,"

he fixed his gaze back ahead, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth. it wasn't that he didn't want to — god, he fucking wanted to. he couldn't allow himself to. you were dangerous. 

you took his silence and nodded slowly. "well, i'm gonna go and enjoy myself. and you can stay here, loser," 

you smirked at him, nudging his arm before you turned around and took off running into the grassy area.

the sun cut down through the wind, warming your shoulders. you weren't gonna let jason's reluctance stop you. 

jason watched you run, watched the way your arms swung by your side. his body subconsciously pushed off the hood, moving to follow you into the sun. you felt like his sun, and he couldn't help but want to orbit around you. 

he let out a soft huff, his nails biting into his palm for a moment. 

"fuck," he muttered under his breath before he took off running after you. it felt good, but he wouldn't admit that out loud to you. it was scary how natural this feeling was for him, how easily this path to you opened for him to chase. 

it was scary how fast jason caught up to you. the head start you had was diminished in seconds. he kept a steady pace just behind you, not yet matching your pace, just watching. 

the smile you flashed over your shoulder was blinding. jason almost tripped over his feet at the sight. your teeth beaming with genuine joy, your tongue peeking out from behind the top row. and then your laugh. a breathless laugh from the belly that punched into his chest. 

"tag!" your hand reached back to swat at his arm, while you stumbled over the grass in the process. you righted yourself and cut immediately to the left.

you took off sprinting again in the opposite direction. the melody of your laugh continued to fill jason's void, and he followed without a second thought. 

he chased after you, breath barely puffing out of his chest. he wanted to prolong this moment for as long as he possibly could, to preserve this memory in locket and wear it around his chest — he didn't even know if he would see you again after this. 

all he was supposed to do was to fix your car, as per tim's instructions. that was all. it was only a favour. nothing more. yet, it felt like everything to jason in this moment. how quickly his life had been changed within a couple of days was something he was unable to comprehend. 

his arm circled around your waist, lifting you up into his chest and spinning you around to carry your momentum. you gasped through a shriek, legs kicking into the air at how suddenly you were airborne. 

"got you," his chest rumbled against your back. his other hand latched onto your thigh to steady you back on the ground. 

"jason, oh my—" your hands gripped his arm as the world suddenly spun off it's axis. your foot caught in a hole, your body stumbled forward. the ground was approaching faster than you could process, than you could react. your eyes shut as you braced yourself for impact. you could practically feel your body hitting the ground, the grass catching between your fingertips and sticking under your nails. you were already cringing at the thought. that was gonna be a pain to get out later.

only, you didn't hit the ground — not really. your bottom did, but not as hard as you had anticipated. the back of your head was cushioned, along with your upper back. you realized it was jason by the way his knees thudded against the dirt, bracketing your thighs. jason was practically straddling you. his hand crunched beneath your head before the arm around your upper back pulled you up, hovering your body a few inches off the ground. 

your eyes were wide and wild, gazing up at him. 

he was so close. 

again.

you had seen him up close before, the two of you had shared a few moments in a proximity that was closer than you should have been, but none of those times compared to this. 

he was right there. 

small freckles dusting his nose, blue irises that carried hints of green, and complete and utter perfection. 

and for, jason, god he was speechless. it was instinct on his end, really. his hands moved on their own — thrumming with the desire to protect you. he would let his arms take the brunt of any pain if it had meant you would never see harm. 

was he that pathetic? that you had managed to have him under your thumb within such a short time of knowing you? clearly, he was. 

your fingers instinctively curled into the collar of his shirt, keeping him close. your chest was expanding with breaths that never quite sat right in your lungs, leaving you more dizzy than anything else — or was that because you were close enough to smell jason's natural musk? 

jason lowered your body slowly — hand slipping from under your head, arm uncurling from your upper back and letting you rest on the grass. the green blades framed your head like a halo. angel. you were his angel. 

he followed you down, unable to put space between your bodies. his hands rested beside your head, further bracketing you beneath him. his eyes roved over your form in concern. 

"you okay?" he murmured softly. he checked for injuries, anything, he angled his head to gaze at your ankle — the reason why you had fallen in the first place. it looked fine to him, thankfully. 

you nodded slowly, lips parted in slight shock, eyes still transfixed on his face. 

"need you to say it. are you in any pain?" he repeated, gazing back into your eyes. "does your ankle hurt at all?" 

"i'm okay," you swallowed thickly. "my ankle is fine." 

he accepted your answer, visibly relaxing. "good."

"sorry," you blurted out, anxious from how close he was. from how you could count each and every single one of his eyelashes as they were attached to his eyelid.

"for what?" his voice was barely above a whisper. the breeze flowed through the grass, kissing over your cheeks and sending hair fluttering across your forehead. he brushed the strand back, memorizing the texture under his thumb. he knew why you were apologizing, and it was unnecessary. though, he recognized your words are more instinct than a genuine apology. 

your brain blanked, subconsciously pulling him closer by the collar. closer. closer. it wasn't close enough. 

jason followed willingly. it would agonize him to deny you right now, to deny himself. 

his head dipped down, the tip of his nose brushed against yours. his shaky breath fanned across your lips. 

"angel…" he whispered, eyes squeezing tightly. it was as if the darkness behind his lids could stop him, stop his desire for you. stop the fire that was spreading up his neck — one that could only be extinguished with the press of your lips. 

he wanted it so badly, wanted you. he knew you would taste good under his tongue, that you would mold perfectly with him. his fingers dug into the ground, denting the dirt with the force of his restraint. 

and when your hands slid up from his collar and onto his neck, jason knew he was done for. he was gone. completely at your mercy just by the touch of your fingertips. his neck burned at the spots where your skin met his. he was ready to carve his heart out of his chest and hand it to you with his own hands. his chest plating armour, his protection, his walls that had shielded the parts of himself that he refused to show the world melted instantly with a flash of your smile. 

"jay…" your voice was barely above the wind in his ears, but it cut through nonetheless, grounded him back to the moment where your chin was tilting up towards his mouth. 

oh god, no

he cleared his throat and slid onto his back beside you. the clouds, bright and blinding against the warm blue, were the most interesting thing jason could look at right now. though his eyes were desperate to settle back onto you. 

he wouldn't give in. not yet at least. maybe not ever. you would never be his. 

a spiked ball made it's way down your throat, forcing, shoving, tearing down any words that were about to leave your mouth. the pressure between the two of you was bordering on unbearable. 

you were so close to kissing him. so close. his distance was necessary. you never should have gotten that close to jason — close enough that you had felt the cool air from his nose brush your cheeks. though, feeling him pull away stabbed your heart deeper than you cared to admit. 

"hey, jason?"

he hummed in confirmation

"what were you doing under my car for so long?" 

"what do you mean?"

"well, it was the valve that was leaking right? you said that's under the hood. why were you under my car for as long as you were? you were also inside, like under the steering wheel. what was that?" 

jason remained silent. he didn't have a good enough excuse that didn't make him sound like a fucking idiot. after finding the initial cause of your car problems, he found another, and then another. and then it turned into him fixing whatever he could with the equipment that he had on hand — anything to keep you in the shop a little longer. just a little longer. 

"you know, just stopping some fluid leaks, making sure nothing was rusting. the oil pan gasket is down there, and your transmission," he kept his eyes trained on the sky, hand resting under his head. the same hand that was under yours. the same one that was just gliding through your hair and oh how he wanted to grab onto the strands and— "oh, and your exhaust. that needed to be touched up. i actually put some paste on there so it should be good for now, but you'll need to come in again soon for me to actually fix it—" 

"jason," 

"yeah," his own rambling had caught him off guard, but the way his heart was practically beating out of his chest was getting increasingly harder to ignore. his heart was still beating wildly out of his chest from almost kissing you.

"what the hell does any of that even mean?" 

"basically, you had more work that needed to be done than just the valve," 

"what?" you sat up, your lips jutting out in a exasperated pout. "why didn't you tell me? you have to let me pay you." 

"like i said earlier, i owed tim," he responded, propping himself on his elbow to face you. the sun floated just above your head, bathing you in its ethereal glow. the rays caught on your hair, glittering the wild strands that were mussed from the grass. 

"yeah but not for all of that," 

"well. if you wanna repay me so bad, then you can," 

you nodded in relief. "okay. how much do i owe you then?" 

"i want you—" 

the shrill of your phone ringing in your back pocket cut jason off abruptly. in a way, he may have been relieved that he never got to finish his sentence. you. i want you. he wouldn't have been able to take them back, no matter how much he may have meant it.

too much. way too soon. 

"hey," you pressed your phone to your ear. your fingers absentmindedly picked at the strands of grass beneath your feet. 

"what time are you coming over?" tim's voice rang through the speaker. loud. jason cringed at the sound. 

"huh?" you shifted, sitting up a little straighter. right. tim and you had plans tonight. dinner tonight at the manor, upon bruce's insistence. on days that you and tim had planned to hang out, you usually ended up in the manor. it was more comfortable for you guys rather than your shitty apartment. 

"b's asking, alfred's already started on dinner," tim says, you cam practically see him shaking his head. "so, what time should i tell him? also, why is your location off. i tried to check if you were at home and it says 'location not found'" 

"oh uh, i don't know. i'm on a walk right now, i'll be there in 'bout an hour?" you were distracted. jason was just laying there still, beside you, pretending not to listen but you know he was. the twitch of his nose when tim had mentioned bruce had given him away. 

"''kay, perfect, see you, and fix your location," tim waited for your own farewell before hanging up the phone. you let your phone drop into your lap, falling back into the electrically charged quiet that seemed to continuously engulf yourself and jason. 

"tim?" jason mumbled. 

you nodded, a thick glob of saliva catching in our throat. "dinner at the manor tonight." 

right. jason knew that. dinner at the manor tonight, as bruce had said in the family group chat. 

he knew he had to drive you back, to let you go. you car was fixed now. it was over. your car was fixed, and you were gonna go back to your life now. the dream bubble, the rose coloured world that jason had been fantasizing with you was now grey. 

but he wouldn't complain. he would let you go. and maybe, he would get to see you again. 

﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒⭒﹒

the manor had been bustling upon your arrival. you still felt like you were in a daze from your earlier encounters with jason. 

he was… different. not what you had expected. 

your first impression of him might have been skewered by tim, and the front that jason put up. the glares, the stone mask that he wore — you saw the softness that lay beneath it all. 

you were currently at the dinner table — seated beside tim — though you could still feel the grass tickling your ankles and jason's steady weight on your chest. you had been so close to kissing him, barely a centimetre between you. 

"so your car is alright then?" bruce's voice brought you back from your dream. 

"hm? oh! yeah, it's all good," your shoulders squared, spine snapping straight. the smile that plastered across your face felt gooey. "jason—"

"—littlewing?" dick's voice rang out in shock, his gaze fixed above your head. a lull settled over the room as the rest of the party's attention followed dick's. you slowly turned your head, your breath catching at the sight. 

speak of the devil. 

jason. he had stood in the entryway of the dining hall — the same navy blue jeans, leather jacket stretched taut over his strong form. 

everyone's gaze were on him, but his were on you. 

"jason! what a pleasure," bruce smiled, standing in greeting. 

"why are you here?" tim blurted out. 

"for dinner?" jason deadpanned.

"yeah, but why?" 

"i'm part of the family, aren't i? do i need a reason to show up for family dinner?" 

"how did you know this was happening,"

you elbowed tim hard enough that he flinched. his fork clanged against his plate at the force of his knee hitting the table.

"i'm in the groupchat, dumbass," jason's eyes narrowed at tim, a scowl forming across his mouth. 

"—yes! you are, no you don't need a reason, and we are so happy you're here," bruce's voice cut in quickly, breaking the squabble. his tone directed at tim. he stood up as well to welcome jason into the room. 

"come sit, littlewing, alfred already set up a seat for you," dick's words barely registered in your mind. jason had looked different, smaller, younger. dick's hand patted the space next to him, across from you, the only empty seat. until now, that seat had always remained empty — set up with a plate, cutlery, and a glass — but empty. now you knew why. 

he took his spot, sliding comfortably into the seat and letting dick clap his shoulder in friendly greeting. jasons eyes shifted from dick, to bruce, and then to you. darker, pupils dilated, head tilted slightly to the side as he took in your appearance again. outfit less casual, your hair done in a way that he could tell you put effort into — though he thought your hair would have looked nice regardless how you wore it. 

jason's gaze was hungry. devouring, though it wasn't because of the food that was being served in front of him, but because of you. 

dinner continued without a hitch. the dymanic didn't change when jason arrived, it molded around him — like he had always been there. 

the conversion flowed between everyone, changing constantly from someone's interjection. the only thing that didn't change was jason's focus on you. when he spoke, when he wasn't speaking. it wasn't the whole time, but it was enough for you to notice it. to feel it burning into your face from where he sat directly in front of you. 

eventually, after the second course of dessert, you excused yourself to the washroom. 

a break was needed. 

while you had developed close relationships with all of tim's family members, they still managed to overwhelm you very easily. 

the washroom was a moment of repreive in the chaos that was confined within the walls of the manor. you could still hear the arguments, the debates, the loud voices that knew how to speak above one another. 

you took your time on the way back, slow measured steps that followed the dark lines of the mahogany flooring. you didn't hear the footsteps behind you, didn't sense the presence that lingered too closely behind you for just a second too long before wrapping an arm around you. 

a large hand covered your mouth, the other pulling your body into the opened doorway beside you. once your back was against the wall, you realized. 

jason. 

he was close again. body pressed up against yours intentionally. he was warm in a way that was devastating — a warmth that you so desperately wanted to sink into, but you knew you couldn't. 

"what are you—" your voice muffled against his hand, palm sliding against your cheek and cradling your head. 

"i should have kissed you earlier," his words cut you off, hanging in the space between your mouths. his gaze was fixed on your lips, centimetres away from yours. "i should have. i need to. been thinking about it since i met you, angel, fuck." 

he was practically pleading. his whispered words were shaking between his lips. 

please. please, let me kiss you. 

"we… jason, we can't," your voice was just as soft, hands exploring up his arms and onto his shoulders. broad and thick under your palms. the desperation was burning the room, a fever beginning to heat up your spine. 

"we… yeah," his forehead softly hit yours, eyes shutting tightly. his nostrils flared with restraint. his other hand tightened it's grip on your lower back, pulling you impossibly closer to him. 

"they're gonna be looking for us, we need to—"

"fuck. i can't. i'm sorry," jason murmured, his snapping open to gaze at you one last time, there was a hint of apology swimming in his eyes, deep and longing beneath the surface. 

and then his lips met yours. 

an: I feel so evil leaving this chapter how I did

𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁! @batwngs , @boo-123456 , @xuzui , @starshine-girl , @brinawing , @jasontoddsthunderthigh , @outpostsworld , @xx-kino-v , @currentblasphemy , @m-0ona , @vayabenson , @deadbeatphobos , @igotcrabs4u , @anne-chloe , @inesvisible , @ftkats , @branchesofmagic , @wrldbloom , @pantone2617c , @loserinadress , @optimisticalmondbananabiscuit , @sweet-cherry-kisses , @lovelymilijana , @starrydustedwinter , @wisefuncherryblossom , @wiishies , @apocal-ips , @bungunz , @pinklyred , @sluttybiscuitbabes , @venus-bby , @st4rl1ghtgrays0n , @vami , @loretheswiftie , @nerdjoenjoyer , @emma-dilemmax , @sofiasguitar , @artisticmindsunite-blog , @aesthetic-lyss , @sleepyyluciel

When you let him in, he kicked off his sneakers and flopped onto your bed without even asking. “I brought those sour gummies you like,” he said, pulling them out like treasure. “And those weird healthy chips because I know you’re on your ‘fuel the brain’ kick.”

You raised an eyebrow, sitting at your desk. “No party tonight?”

He shrugged, cheeks going a little pink as he watched you. “Nah. I’d rather be here bugging you while you study serial killers or whatever. The conversation is better.”

That made you smile despite yourself. Roy had always been loud and reckless before, the guy who showed up to class hungover and still managed to charm half the room. But lately? He showed up at the library during your late-night sessions with coffee exactly how you liked it. He sat through your rants about criminal psychology without interrupting, even asked questions that proved he was actually listening.

One evening you caught him staring at you again while you explained the difference between organized and disorganized offenders. His chin rested in his hand, green eyes soft making your stomach flip.

“What?” you asked, trying not to laugh.

“Nothing,” he said. “You’re really fucking smart. It’s hot. I think my brain short-circuits every time you talk like that.”

You threw a pen at him and he caught it easily, grinning like an idiot. He didn’t care when his old frat buddies started texting him, asking where the hell he’d been. Whipped, one of them called him when they spotted you two at a campus café. Roy just pulled you closer by the waist and kissed the top of your head.

“Let them talk,” he whispered against your hair. “I’m exactly where I wanna be.”

And he meant it. The obsession was quiet but constant. He remembered the way you liked your hoodies oversized and stole one from his closet just so you could wear it during study dates. He showed up to your criminology club meetings even though he had no clue about half the topics, just to sit in the back and watch you light up when you presented.

Late at night, when your eyes got tired from reading case files, he’d tug you into his lap on the tiny dorm couch. “Take a break, babe,” he’d whisper, arms wrapping around, his fingers would trace little patterns on your arm while you leaned into his chest, breathing in the faint smell of his cologne.

“You’re turning into a total sap,” you teased one night, tilting your head up to look at him.

Roy just smiled, it reached his eyes and made them crinkle at the corners. “For you. I don’t care if the whole campus thinks I’m pathetic. I probably am. But you make me want to be better. Someone who deserves to sit here with the smartest girl on campus.”

Your heart did that annoying fluttery thing it always did around him now. You reached up and brushed his red hair back from his forehead. “You’re doing okay, Harper.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, then another to your cheek, taking his time memorizing every inch of you. “Mhm, I’m not going anywhere. Frat parties can suck it. I’ve got everything I need right here.”

a/n: this is so cheesy oh my god. @bat1nsignia my queen and my baby, i hope you liked this<33 this was such a cutieful thing to write i can't i can't i'm dying of cuteness