summary: Jason finding the profound, gentle, calming love he deserves.
warning: tooth-rotting fluff, JASON IS A LOVERBOY
The little supermarket closed an hour ago. You sit cross legged on the curb with empty cookie box on your lap, while Jason sits next to you, sleeves pushed to his forearms, looking more at you than at anything else outside.
He always looks surprised whenever he realizes that you’re not running away from him. As if some part of him still expects the universe to remember who he used to be and come take this away.
You notice it in the way his shoulders stay tense for the first few minutes, in the way his eyes stay focused on you. The city has taught him that peace is temporary and love is dangerous, and those lessons do not disappear just because someone kisses him gently and asks how his day was.
So you never demand that he forget. You simply make room for him.
“Did you know that there is a planet mostly made from diamonds?” you ask him softly.
Jason glances down, then huffs a quiet laugh. “55 cancri e, right?”
“Yes! You’re so smart.”
His gaze lifts to you, and there is love written plainly across his face. “Oh really? Thank you baby.”
Jason pushes himself closer to your side, moving with that careful grace that still carries traces of old violence. He settles his side completely against your side, his long legs stretched out, shoulder pressed against yours.
You feel the exact moment he relaxes.
It is small enough that most people would miss it. The slow release of breath, the weight of him leaning just a little more fully into you, the unclenching of hands that have spent too many years and years ready to fight.
But you notice. You notice because you love him wholeheartedly. Your fingers slip into his, intertwining.
For a while, neither of you speak.
The quiet is never awkward with Jason. It feels more sacred, like standing beneath a sky so full of stars that it feels like heaven is accepting you with open arms.
Jason traces absent patterns across your knuckles, and you think about all the versions of him that have existed before you came into his life and changed it for a better version.
Then you think about this version. The one sitting on the curb at midnight, holding your hand as if he is afraid to let go.
“I had a thought earlier.” he admits, voice low.
“You can think?”
“Very funny.” He rolls his eyes, trying to look annoyed but you catch him smiling faintly. “I was on patrol, and it was quiet for once. No gunfire, no criminals, no rooftops collapsing. Seriously nothing.”
He pauses, looking down at your joined hands. He still finds it hard to believe that your soft hands are holding his round ones. “And I caught myself wanting to come home.”
The word lands gently between you. Because you hear him say this for the first time. Jason wanted to come home.
Home. Not the manor. Not a safehouse. Not Roy who acts like he’s in a relationship with Jason, and not you. Not some temporary place to sleep with one eye open. Home.
Your throat tightens. “We can go home if you want Jay.”
He closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens them again, they are softer than the city has any right to make them.
“I know we can,” he says quietly. “Now that’s the weird part.”
You turn toward him fully. The street light catches the white streak in his hair, the scar near his throat, the tiredness that never really leaves him. You cup his face with both hands, and he leans into the touch immediately, like a man who has spent too long cold and is desperate to feel the warmth everyone talks about.
“There’s nothing weird about being loved baby.” you whisper. Something in him breaks then. Not in the violent way things used to break, but in the way where his brain stops screaming at him for a moment. His forehead rests against yours, and you feel his breath tremble before it steadies.
“I can’t believe this,” he murmurs. “I used to think happiness was for other people.”
“And what do you think now?”
“Now I think it’s this.” He kisses you slowly, with the kind of care that makes the whole world narrow to warmth and breath and the soft brush of his mouth against yours. There is no urgency in it, no desperation, only pure love. When he pulls back, he stays close enough that your noses still touch.
Jason looks up where the clouds reveal a scattering of stars above Gotham’s sky. The city is nowhere near perfect with all the criminals living inside, but tonight the sky seems gentler somehow. Revealing its stars. It almost feels like a hidden message for Jason, are the stars trying to tell him that he can finally stop swimming in the deep ocean because you came to his rescue.
“Come here.” he says.
He rises and draws you with him to the front of the store. Together you stand, your arms wrapped around each other as you look up at the clearing sky.
“You think stars can fall from the sky?” he asks with curiosity in his voice.
“I don’t think so.” you laugh at him. What does that even mean? Can stars fall from the sky?
“Funny,” he says, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Feels like one fell right into my arms.”
You smile, and he feels it against his cheek. You try your absolute best to not cry at how sweet and sincere he is.
For so long Jason has lived as if he is waiting for the next loss, the next betrayal, the next disappointment, the next hand reaching into the dark to drag him back under. But here with your heartbeat steady beneath his palm, he finally understands something he never lets himself believe.
Love is not something that blinds people and lures them into a trap. Love does not ask for permission to be let in.
Love is a place. A place where he can just sit down and breathe for a little while. A place where his name is spoken gently. A place where he is not a warning or a tragedy, but simply a man who is tired and loved and safe.
And Jason is sure that love is a beautiful person, too. A person who chose him and his problems, and turned him into a man he usually reads about in books.
You tilt your head back against him. “What are you thinking about?”
Jason presses a kiss into your hair.
“That I’ve spent my whole life surviving,” he confesses. “And with you, I finally get to live.”
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Tim Drake Head-Canons because I haven't thought about this man in a while.
Tim Drake being teased at the start by the Bat-Family that he's turned into a stalker. Which turns into worried interventions after they find out Tim was using any and all resources Batman has to keep an eye on you.
Tim Drake who doesn't explain that you actually don't mind his overprotective nature. Because... well, you live in GOTHAM for crying out loud. Having a vigilante boyfriend who can pick up your location in a second because you didn't answer right away is the best damn thing to happen to you.
Tim Drake who sends photos of you from high vantage points. And smirks, chuckling, as he watches you try to pin-point where the fuck he is by the photo. He finds you adorably amusing when you spin in circles until you spot his silhouette on the rooftops. You blow him a kiss and he pretends to catch it. Everytime.
Tim Drake who replies with "I know" whenever you inform him you get home safely.
Tim Drake who sends you your location and a "?". Especially if it's apart of the city you don't frequent. He'll sometimes turn up announced to join you for any errands you run. If you stop by a food place, expect an order and a little location pin to drop his order off to him while he's put on patrol.
Tim Drake who tries not to patrol your area more often - since anyone paying attention could easily assume something important to him is in the area. But he can never stay away. Especially when he can slip in and out of your window like a shadow. Unhindered by locks because your apartment is rigged with the best Wayne-Tech security. And he has the passcode for every entryway.
Tim Drake is, by all definition, a stalker. But you don't mind because if you asked, and if Batman wasn't such a security fiend, you'd have a tracker on Tim too.
Letters from Damian as misses his partner while away on a mission 😞 and something very sweet when he comes back
w.c. 2.4k
Details: gn!reader, fluff, angst, yearning, Damian being a bit possessive and worrying a lot about you while he's away, calls but he also send you letters, mission is over a period of months. Dami is a yearner for the person he loves and would be very sweet with them; you can't change my mind. Dami being hopelessly in love with you and not ashamed at all, hes much more open in the letters than in real life since it is much easier for him to get his feelings and thoughts out on paper
"Habibti." Damian's voice is low, a tender murmur through the phone next to your ear as you lay on your bed. Blurred splashes of green streak across your window from the store across the street from your apartment in the rain, the neon color rippling across your face as your eyes slipped closed to Damian's soft breathing.
"Yes, Dami?" You hum, sighing as you nuzzle further beneath your blanket against the chill of your room.
He's quiet for a moment before speaking again. "My father and I will be gone for a while for a mission." Your eyes open and he pauses for a second, then continues. "I will only have limited contact with you. Communication through electronic devices will be risky."
You frown. He'd warned you about this, not long ago. Said he may have to leave for a while since something has come up. You were worried, of course, asking for details. Asking if he thought it was dangerous. He'd assured you he'd be okay, of course, presskng soft kisses to your face and murmuring sweet nothings in your ear as you were both tangled in his bed. But you didn't like the idea of him going.
"How… how long will you be gone?" you ask, sitting up in your bed and looking out your window to the slick street below, the streams of black water babbling with the rainbow glint of oil as their small waves slip between the grates of the drains. Focusing ont he constant movement of the fallen rain distracts you from the creeping anxiety knotting in your stomach.
"I cannot give you a set time. We don't know how long it'll go on for, but we expect a few months."
You don't respond, just sighing and focusing on two kids playing with a dog in a puddle next to the neon green sign of the store across the street. The dog runs around the two kids, barking as they giggle and stomp in the water before their mother calls for them and they disappear around the corner.
"Hayati?" Damian's own frown is audible through the phone.
"I understand," you say, looking back at your phone as it sits on the mattress next to you. "Just… just be safe okay?"
"I am always safe."
"That doesnt mean something can't happen. Just… just come back to me. Okay?"
You can hear the smile in his voice. "I will. I always do, Roohi."
Damian calls only twice over the four months, and the rest of the communication you two have is through letters, which he never failed to send each month.
You'd received the first after a long day of classes, tired and sad at not being able to even talk to Damian, let alone touch and cuddle with him after an exhausting day as you usually would. You ran back to your apartment building to open the letter in privacy, reading:
Ya qamar,
How are you, beloved? I hope you are eating enough, and sleeping. I know you tend to shirk the duties of self care and health when you are worried or stressed. I have asked Pennyworth to make sure you are taking care of yourself, and if you aren't, to force you to.
He'll make food for you, and there will always be a room at the manor if needed. You can stay in my room if that would make you feel more comfortable, I do not mind.
I hadn't realized how attached I became to you until you were no longer in my orbit. You've wormed yourself into my life, Habibti, though I would have it no other way.
I miss you as one misses the stars on a starless night. I miss your smell and the feeling of your hands on me. Your scent tends to calm me when I am anxious, and not having you here leaves me overwrought. I would love to simply see your eyes. See them crinkle in the corners as you smile at me, see the flutter of your lashes as you close your eyes with exhaustion or pleasure. To see them twinkle in the night as we take a walk through the gardens of the manor.
I should have taken you somewhere before I left, but of course my stupidity got the better of me and I didn't think to take an opportunity to relish your presence once more before I wss deprived of it.
I apologize for this. I know you are worried for me, but do not be. I have not been injured, and the mission so far has been quite tedious. These criminals are not as smart as they seem to believe they are. You would definitely laugh at them and their idiocy.
Keep me in your thoughts, but do not let them swallow you whole. I love you, Roohi. Take care of yourself, for me.
Your cheeks ached as you smiled while reading it multiple times. You knew you weren't allowed to write him back, since it wasnt safe and you also didn't know where he was.
But that didnt stop you from grabbing a pen and paper and writing your own letter for him to read when he got back.
The second letter came a month later in the same fashion:
Beloved,
The pain of your absence intensifies each day you are not with me. It is october now, and the only thing that could warm my nipped cheeks would be one of your soft kisses. I know how much you love the fall. You'd look so beautiful in one of my sweaters you insist on wearing. Absolutely singular.
There is something I must tell you. I hate to say it like this where I cannot see your face, thought this will have to do since you will scold me when i return to you for not telling you immediately after it happened. I have been injured, a bullet graze to the shoulder. A simple scratch and nothing to be worried over.
I am fine, I promise. Do not worry. The shooter has been dealt with, and the wound has almost healed. Though, this injury has made the urge to return to you almost unbearable.
I stay up some nights simply thinking of you. Thinking of the baked treats you'd have in your oven during this season. Thinking of how I am unable to comfort you after a stressful day of your classes. Thinking of what may happen to you while I am away.
I know I shouldn't. My siblings all watch over you. They consider you family, as i do. I have also told you not to worry for me, yet here I am doing what I say you shouldn't. But I cannot help it.
You know how much I miss you. But there is nothing to be done to soothe the ache of missing you until I return. I love you, Habibti. Please do not let stress and nerves get to you while I am away.
The third came 2 days before Thanksgiving.
Habibti, I apologize for not being able to be with you for Thanksgiving. I know it is a special holiday for loved ones to be together on, and I loathe the fact that I am missing it.
My patience is thinning. It is proving harder to detain these miscreants than we initially thought, and my irritation surmounts each day.
I correct myself on what I said in my previous letter. The pain of your absence doesnt intensify each day, it intensifies each hour-each second. Each dragging and endless hour here i could be spending at home with you. But I am stuck here, much to my father and I's chagrin.
I arranged for you to have a seat at the table at the manor for the holiday. Alfred is planning for you to attend, if you have no other plans. You mentioned previously that your parents are on a cruise, so I arranged for you to spend Thanksgiving at the manor.
Brown has said she hasn't seen you in a while, and and Grayson misses your jokes, so they wouldn't mind you attending, of course.
Go have fun there. I do not want you to be alone. I love you and I miss you, Omri. Stay safe and healthy.
It was December now, and you hadn't received a fourth letter. Gotham had been blanketed with snow by the twenty-fourth, the roads the hadn't been plowed and salted yet slick with ice and thick white flakes.
You drove up to the manor, planning on spending the holiday up there since you had no one else to spend it with. The rest of Damian's siblings all went out to greet you, Dick and Jason carrying presents you had stuffed in your trunk up into the house while Duke and Steph dragged you to the doors.
Cass was inside, sitting next to the large fireplace next to the Christmas tree with a warm mug warming her hands. She smiled at you as you came in and you waved, taking off your gloves and hat. Alfred made sure you had something warm to drink and you sat by the tree with everyone, talking and catching up after not seeing each other since Thanksgiving.
Your thoughts kept straying back to Damian during this time, a small frown tugging at your lips as you stared at the bit of hot chocolate you had left in your mug.
Duke noticed your expression quickly and sat next to you, nudging your shoulder with his own. "You okay?"
You looked over at him, trying to smile a bit. "Yeah. I'm fine. I just… i wish Damian were here. This would be our first Christmas together."
He nodded, leaning back into the couch cushion. "Yeah, I get it. He's been gone for months and he's missing Christmas with everyone for this mission. So is Bruce."
You sighed softly, looking over and Tim and Steph in a silly debate with Jason, all of them smiling and chuckling with each other. "Thats one thing I don't like about him being a vigilante. He misses stuff. I don't hold any of it against him but… it makes me sad, you know? That he isnt even here to spend Christmas together."
Steph suddenly piped up across from you, smirking at something over your shoulder. "Don't speak too soon."
"Beloved." You whirled around at the voice, almost dropping your mug on the couch at the sight of Damian. He was standing in the doorway of the room, wrapped in coat with his hands on his pocket, a scarf around his neck that emphasized his flushed cheeks and nose. He smiled softly at your shocked expression.
"Damian," you breathed, immediately standing and striding over to him. His arms immediately engulfed you, pressing you against his chest as he rested his chin on your shoulder.
He hummed, sighing agsinst your neck. "You weren't at your apartment."
"No, I came here to spend Christmas with everyone," you mumbled into his neck. "I brought presents."
"Did you?"
"Mhm."
"Good thing I brought a present of my own then." You pulled back just enough to see Damian pull a small box from his pocket, along with an envelope taped to it.
Your cheeks flushed. "You didn't have to get me anything."
"Of course I did," he says firmly, lifting your hand to place the box into it. He keeps his eyes on yours, earnest and tender. "Open it. See if it's to your liking."
Your blush deepened, your fingers gently peeling the envelope off the lid of the box and placing it under your arm before opening the box. Inside sat a ring, not a wedding ring (though you wouldn't have minded too much if it was one). The band was gold and thick, engraved with cursive letters along the inside, and had a large emerald sitting atop it. The same shade as Damian's eyes, bold and glinting in the light of the fire next to you both.
Your lips parted in surprise, eyes snapping back up to him as you sputter for a response. "Damian-" your voice cracked and you swallowed thickly. "I-i cant take this. Its gorgeous, and I know it was insanely expensive-"
"It was worth every penny," he interrupts, kissing on your forehead. "I assume you like it then?"
"Damian, I love it," you grin at him, cheeks flushed and eyes glinting in a way that made his heart ache.
"Good." He holds your free hand, stroking your knuckles as he nods toward the letter. "I didn't bother sending it in the mail since I would be back by Christmas."
You glanced down at it before shaking your head. You leaned forward and gave him a chaste kiss on his lips, pulling back to see his cheeks a deep red now instead of pink.
You giggled. "I'll open it tomorrow. I have you here now."
Damian's face softened, the usually firm lines smoothing over as he rested his forehead against yours.
It was a tender moment before you remembered all his siblings were in the room. "Awww, look at the cute love birds!" Dick exclaimed, clutching his chest as if his heart hurt.
Stephanie grinned and leaned heavily into Tim, almost making him fall over. "Young love!"
"Be quiet, you imbeciles," Damian huffed, pulling back to glare at them over your shoulder. He grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the room as they kept teasing him, leading you to his room.
"What about your family?" You chuckled, squeezing his hand."
Later. I want to see you alone, hayati. It's been months." He brushed his lips agsinst your cheek. "I want to touch you."
You bit your lip to hide your smile. You knew it was going to be a long night.
a/n: I AM SO SORRY IF ANY OF THE ARABIC IS INCORRECT AND PLEASE TELL ME IF IT IS.
Oh my fawkkkkk this is so ass. Can you guys tell i miss Christmas 😒 listened to Luis Miguel's album "Romance" while writing and it was perfect for this (fic also based on the song of the same name as the fic within this album). Probably buns and ooc but its okay. It's kinda long sorry i just enjoyed writing Dami since I haven't before and plan to do more in the future.
Bruce Wayne, his adoptive son Dick Grayson, and Dick's weird Uncles, Harvey Dent and Oswald Cobblepot.
Bruce was already friends with Harvy, longterm friendship so unbreakable even Two Face struggles to get in the way of nostalgic coffee hangouts. They catch up on weekends and Harvey utterly adores Dick as a nephew, happily indulging him.
Harvey: Is that true, Dickie? Bruce snores in his sleep? Thats juicy gossip, kiddo.
Dick: Heheh yeah! He snores super loud!
Meanwhile, Bruce's 'partnership' with Oswald is rockier than a rock hopper penguin. Tense dinner meetings, smoke filled lounges that obscure their scowls, and teeny tiny Dickie asking about a million questions while Oswald begrudgingly watches the boys gymnastics routines during meetings.
Oswald: You already did the trick 6 times, kid...
Dick, out of breath: I gotta do it perfectly! Watch, watch! Again!
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