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Link to Weathergirl by Flavor Foley (The song they chose for the fic)
Words: 1893
Genre: Fluff, Happy Ending
Jason strolled in a coffee shop, drawn less there by the coffee and more so by the operating hours, when their doors opened before dawn and his patrol had finally come to an end. He’d pass by it countless times on the way back to his apartment, noticing the warm light hitting his face. It never seemed busy, but somehow, it managed to survive in a part of Gotham where businesses disappeared almost as quickly as they opened.
The bell above the door chimed softly as he stepped in, feeling the warm air inside the shop and the smell of pastries, espresso, and vanilla. It was a welcome change from gunpowder and blood. A few customers sat scattered among the tables, their attention fixed on newspapers or phone screens.
Soft jazz music was playing, the melodies were pleasant to his ears.
“Hi, welcome!” You were at the cash register smiling brightly, the kind that reached your eyes instead of stopping at your lips. Jason blinked. How the hell did you have that much energy greeting people this early? Maybe you just had three cups of coffee before your shift or maybe you were just one of those people. Jason walked up to the register, aware of the ache settling into his muscles after another sleepless night. He looked at the menu, and then the pastries. There was an assortment of them: fluffy croissants, muffins, cinnamon rolls, scones. They all looked freshly baked too… Should he get one? Nah. He’ll be fine. He doesn’t want anything to eat right now.
“Can I get a black coffee?” Jason asked, his gaze moving away from the food.
“Coming right up,” you nodded. You stared at him for a beat longer, noticing that he was staring at the baked goods, “no pastries for you?”
“Maybe next time.” He shrugged.
“Got it, that’ll be $2.99. I’ll bring it to you when it’s ready.”
Jason taps his credit card on the screen, puts a tip in for a dollar. He found a seat close to the window, watching the rain falling onto Gotham’s sidewalks. After a few moments of nothing, he sighed, closing his eyes. Leaning back in his chair, Jason listened to the music as he waited. The music carried on until he heard footsteps approaching his table.
“One black coffee,” you placed the drink in front of him as he opened his eyes.
“Thanks.” Jason took a sip, enjoying the heat that it offered. It’s always so damn gloomy and cold in Gotham. You gave him a big smile.
“No problemo!” You returned back to the register. Grabbing a rag from behind the counter, you worked on wiping down tables. Some of them were already clean, but you wiped them down anyway and straightened the chairs. For the next few minutes, Jason was drinking his coffee and watching you keep yourself busy during the slow morning. Even though it seemed like nothing needed to be done around the cafe, it seemed like you couldn’t sit still.
Jason drained the last of his coffee, the warmth lingering in his hands for a moment before he crumpled the paper cup and dropped it into the trashcan. He gave a glance back towards the counter, where you’re helping another customer. Your smile was just as bright as you had when he’d first walked in. Opening the door, the bell chimed again softly, the rush of cold, rain-soaked air replaced the warmth of the building.
“Thank you for coming!” You called after him. In response, he only gave a half-hearted wave before disappearing back into the gray morning, the rain welcoming him home once more. The coffee wasn’t half bad. He walked back to his apartment, the rain clinging to his hair. Maybe he’d stop by again after patrol again.
The next morning, the rain hadn’t let up, and neither did his urge to stop by the cafe after his patrol. Jason opened the door, the little bell announcing his arrival just as it had the morning before.
“Welcome in!” You called out from the register with the same warm smile as yesterday. Jason strolled up to the register, his hand already reaching for his wallet in his damp pants.
“Can I get a black coffee?” His gaze briefly flickered to the tempting pastries, but chose not to order one. He’s too tired to bother eating.
“Oh, you’re the ‘maybe later’ guy from yesterday.” You cheekily grinned at him. The corner of his mouth twitched.
“Caught me.”
“Any pastries today or ‘maybe later’?” You asked as you rang him up.
“...Still maybe later.”
“If you say so…” You trailed off. Jason had the feeling that you weren’t convinced, “alright, your total is gonna be $2.99.”
Jason tapped the screen with his card, tipping once more. Without thinking, he headed toward the window seat he’d claimed the morning before. The rain streaked the glass, blurring the city beyond into little more than gray shapes and flickering headlights.
A few minutes later, you approached his table with a coffee cup in hand.
“One black coffee,” you said, setting it down in front of him. “And still no pastry.”
Jason looked up at you. “You’re not gonna let that go, are you?”
“Nope, I’m taking it personally.”
He let out a quiet huff that might’ve passed for a laugh. You looked entirely too pleased with yourself before turning back toward the counter.
“I’ll wear you down eventually,” you called over your shoulder.
“We’ll see.” Jason shook his head, the corner of his mouth threatening another smile as you disappeared behind the espresso machine. Cradling the warm cup between his hands, Jason watched droplets of rain race down the windowpane. Outside, Gotham looked as miserable as ever. Inside, people trickled in one after another. You greeted every one of them with the same bright smile you’d given him, remembering favorite drinks or asking about work or family as though it came naturally. It wasn’t an act, a rare sight in Gotham. Jason took another sip of his coffee, taking another glance at you.
It wasn’t just the coffee that had brought him back, although he wasn’t ready to admit that yet.
The rain came and went over the following weeks. Some mornings, it drummed relentlessly against the windows. Other mornings, the clouds lingered without ever breaking. Jason still found himself pushing open the cafe door before sunrise, the little bell announcing his arrival.
Your greetings would change almost every time.
“Hello, hello!”
“Good morning!”
“Good morrow!”
But, even though your greetings would change, you stopped asking what he’d wanted to order.
“Black coffee?”
Jason nodded, each and every time.
Then, one morning, there would be a mug ready and waiting by the register, when he would walk in. Your expression would be pleased.
“I’ve successfully predicted what you would want to order,” you boasted to him. He glanced down at the cup of coffee, and then back at you. Jason smirked, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, what if I wanted a latte instead?” He challenged. You rubbed your chin in thought.
“Hm… Then…” You trailed off, “I’d ask who you are and what you’ve done with my regular.”
Jason let out a quiet snort, “guess I should stick to black coffee, then.”
“I’d appreciate that,” you said with an exaggerated nod. “I got a reputation to uphold.”
“Didn’t know baristas had reputations.”
“We do.” You slide the mug across the counter toward him before lowering your voice conspiratorially, “if word gets out that I can’t predict my regular’s order, I won’t get employee of the month.”
Jason shook his head, unable to hide the amused smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Sounds serious.”
“Completely devastating.”
He picked up the mug. “Thanks.”
“See?” You pointed at him triumphantly. “You’re smiling.”
Jason’s expression vanished almost instantly. “No.”
“Yes.”
“I wasn’t.”
“If it helps you sleep during the day.” You grinned.
“...I want a refund.”
“No!” You protested, “then I definitely won’t get employee of the month!”
“You started it.” Jason allowed the small smile to appear again. A laugh escaped you before you waved him toward the window.
“Your seat’s waiting for you.”
Jason glanced toward the rain-speckled window.
His seat. At some point, it had stopped feeling like a table in a cafe and started feeling like a place that belonged to him. He wasn’t exactly sure when that happened.
The pastries remained an ongoing battle. Every morning, Jason’s gaze drifted to the display case for just a second too long before settling back on his coffee. You always caught him each morning.
“So… you want a croissant?”
“...” He stared at it a bit longer, and then sighed, knowing that resistance was pointless. “Alright, fine.”
Your triumphant grin spread from ear to ear. “One croissant coming right up.”
“You look way too happy about this,” he grabbed the paper bag with a sigh.
“I’ve been losing this argument for weeks,” you huffed, “lemme have my moment.”
“Kinda,” you shrugged, “I also like how quiet Gotham is.”
Jason looked at you for a long moment, and then looked out the window. There was no rain today, only gloomy and overcast. The perpetual state of Gotham’s weather, but… you were right. Hardly anyone is out during this hour. Empty sidewalks, just a few people were starting their day.
“It’s nice.” He agreed, looking back at you.
“Right?” You gave him a big smile. Jason blinked, and then looked away. That damn smile.
Somewhere between the familiar chime of the bell, the warmth of the coffee in his hands, and your persistence to convince him to eat breakfast, Jason realized he looked forward to these mornings. The realization settled heavily in his chest because looking forward to something meant having something to lose. He kept his thoughts to himself. It was easier that way. He glanced out the window from the cafe, another cloudy day. Jason wasn’t sure whether he was waiting for the rain to stop or waiting until he found the courage to say something before it did.
Jason stood up from his seat, walking towards the door. The bell above the cafe door chimed as he pushed it open.
“See you tomorrow, Jason?” You asked, wiping down another table. Jason paused at the door with his hand lingering on the handle.
“...You close at noon, right?” He scratched the back of his head. You looked up, blinking in surprise.
“Yeah.”
Jason’s gaze flickered outside, cloudy skies, gloomy as hell, and then back to you. He almost said never mind. Instead, he cleared his throat.
“You, uh, wanna…” Jason sighed. Come on, say something. “...You wanna grab lunch after your shift?”
You stared at him, unintentionally dropping your rag on the table. Then, your face broke into that same warm smile he’d grown entirely too fond of.
“I’d like that.”
Jason let out a quiet breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, smiling back at you, a weight off his shoulders.
“Awesome… See you then.”
“See you soon.” You picked the rag back up, a spring in your step as you walked to clean another table.
As Jason stepped onto Gotham’s damp sidewalks, the rain pelting him once more, it didn’t feel so cold anymore.
Summary : When readers hatred for her father morphs into a preference of older men, her family finally starts to notice.
Pt. 1 here
Cw: characters might be ooc, mentions of sa, grooming, angst.
Waking up in your bedroom at the manor made it feel like any other boring day. Until you feel the material of what you’re wearing and it all rushes back to you. Bruce, Dick, Jason and- Kyle.
Your whole body freezes as you realize the last time you saw him he was being beaten to a pulp by your brother. You had to find out what happened to him now.
Though you’re still in the grimy clothes of the day before, you can’t help but notice the clothes on the end of your bed. A simple, clean outfit layed out nicely. It looks like someone who had only met you once passingly was asked to make an outfit in your style but, who were you to complain right now about something you already knew?
These people don’t know you
Kyle knows you
Find Kyle, and run so far they won’t ever find you
You slip into the outfit and step out of your room. The hall is eerily silent, but you’re not sure what you’re expecting to hear. No one talks to you up here anyway, so the silence should be normal. But it feels different. Bad different. You keep going without another thought until you’re down the stairs.
From there, you can see the lights of the living room in contrast to the dark of rest of the house. Gotta find another way out. You’d snuck out of this place a million times so it was a piece of cake. Sucking in a nervous breath, you slowly but steadily walk away from the living room in the opposite direction.
Unfortunately, everyone in that room was a vigilante with excellent hearing, and had heard you almost as soon as you started walking down the stairs.
“[Reader]?” A voice carries from down the hall and you stop like a deer in headlights.
“[Reader]? Come here please.” The voice came again. You recognized it this time. It was Bruce. You hated his tone. It was soft and patient like he was trying to lure you in. Despite yourself you turn and take a step towards the living room. His voice was calm while you were anything but and it was pissing you off.
Of course he’s calm. He’s not the one who has no idea where the one person they care about is. He’s not the one who was in that apartment. He’s not the one who’s been in a constant cycle of suffering.
You ought to go in there and give them a piece of your mind, you thought. You took a deep breath, lifting your chin and walking with false bravado. As soon you come to the open entrance your confidence falters and your shoulders droop. You suddenly felt small, like that kid wandering the halls alone again.
Stepping into the living room, you felt the eyes turn to you before you gathered the courage to raise your chin and look at them yourself.
Jason and Tim were sat on the sofa with Dick sat on the floor infront of it. They each had their own expression of worry or guilt and It almost made you laugh. Damian sat in a recliner, looking like the guiltiest of them all while still managing to hide it with his assassin façade.
Bruce is standing. His eyes are trained on your face like he’s studying you. Like you’re another case to figure out instead of his daughter who needs just one stable person in her life.
“I know it’s the last thing you want right now.” Bruce started. “But we need to talk about last night.” His voice is firm, letting you know you will tell him everything one way or another.
You glare at him. How would you even start? You had to figure out how to give him the answers he wanted from you while simultaneously withholding enough information as to not dig a deeper hole for yourself or Kyle. Nobody says anything at first and it feel like the windows might pop from the tension.
Jason runs a hand down his face before finally breaking the silence. “That man was 32, [Reader]. What the hell were you doing anywhere near that apartment!? Did he force you?”
You blink at him in slight disbelief. How could he accuse Kyle of kidnapping you? He hadn’t even known the guy! They hadn’t really had much time for a chat before Jason broke into his living space and beat him brutally.
“No.” You snap. “I asked him to pick me up.”
A collective look of shock paints their faces as they stare back at you like you’ve just started speaking a foreign language. Jason’s lips part, about to say something else before Dick beats him to it.
“You knew him?” Why hadn’t he known that you were talking to grown men? “You let him take you from this house?” He points his pointer finger firmly to the ground over the arm rest of the couch, like he can’t believe it happened here. A predator had been allowed to take you from here with no one noticing.
“I begged him to. Anything to get away from here.” You said honestly. Withholding the truth be damned, you were going to make these assholes feel your hurt.
Damian felt something twist in his stomach. He had talked to you on the stairs that day. He knew you were leaving. He always brushed you off, so why was it so different now?
“So that is where she..” He mutters, unable to keep the guilty words down.
Though his voice is quiet it is picked up by Bruce standing near, whose head immediately turns.
“Damian? Do you know something?” He asks. Damian knew how to control himself. If he couldn’t contain the words then it had to be important.
Damian nods slowly. “[Reader] and myself ran into each other before the.. incident. She told me she had lunch with a friend and I stupidly did not push.”
“You would have tried to stop me.” You say, side glancing at Damian. “And I would’ve run to him anyway.”
Tim had seen the way you looked when the others brought you back. He saw the way Bruce was practically carrying you with the way he had to support you on the way up to your room. He saw the tired panic and fear in your eyes. A kind of look that scared him.
“What about-” Tim swallows mid sentence, suddenly not knowing if he want the answer to his question. “What about how you came back? You looked awful.”
You looked almost offended. He thought Kyle hurt you? They probably were all thinking that.
“That wasn’t his fault.” You countered, raising your voice. “I got myself sick. He was just taking care of me.”
Tim’s brows furrow. “[Reader], we took a blood sample from you when you came back. You were so you of it you didn’t even notice.”
You felt violated! They had fully invaded your privacy!
“You did what?!” You shout before the words fully even register in your brain. “You can’t just do that to me!”
“We can if we believe it necessary.” Bruce interjects.
Tim nods. “Your blood alcohol level was crazy high. Mixed with those..” He motions to the bruises blossoming along your arms. Weird, you hadn’t noticed that before. But there were a lot of black spots in your memory now, and that was the last thing on your mind.
When you don’t respond, Jason pushes for an answer. “[Reader]?” He calls out to you with all the softness his rough voice can muster, the sharp edge of his shock and anger still there. “What happened?”
You freeze. Your leg was shaking and the tears were falling before you could even feel them. But when you did, they were hot. You can’t let them see this. You thought. Stop it! Stop it!
“We drank together.” Your voice wobbles so much it makes you cringe inwardly at yourself. You weren’t afraid of Kyle. You knew exactly what you had done together and had even repeated the entire event a million times in the short span since it passed. So why were you acting like this now? You were satisfied but now here you are, shaking and crying like a child about it infront of your family.
“He gave you alcohol?” Bruce asks, voice as collected as it can be.
You nod “I could handle it.” You say. You try to hold your chin high. Try to keep any of the fight left in you that slipped away so easy, but almost all of it is gone.
“I couldn’t handle it and fell asleep. Kyle took me to bed. That’s it.” Your face was stoic even as tears dragged a path down your cheeks. It wasn’t Kyle’s fault.
No one believed you. “[Reader], why do you insist on defending him?” Bruce raised an eyebrow, voice becoming more firm. It scared you a little bit, but you didn’t want them to see.
“I love him.” You say low, the words heavy on your tongue. “He’s shown me more love and care than I have ever gotten here. He doesn’t treat me like a little girl like the rest of you still think I am. When was the last time any of you asked me about anything about myself? About anything going on in my life? Maybe then you’d have known.”
“You don’t love him.” Bruce shakes his head slow. He crosses his arms tight in frustration at the situation. How could he fix this? How could he knowing he was to blame? He glanced around the room. He could tell by the looks on their sorry faces that they couldn’t remember the last time they had talked to you about anything more than what’s on the surface level they’d have known.
“Yes I do.” Your nails dig into your knees but you can’t feel it.
“What happened after you went to bed?” Bruce asks, though he doesn’t know if he wants to know the truth, because that would mean having to face it.
“I woke up feeling sick.” You remember waking up besides Kyle with that horrible pain in your stomach, and a strange one between your legs. “I went to the bathroom.” You list off the events, remembering kneeling on the cold floor infront of the toilet.
You remember not having your pants on. The memory is like a rock being thrown full force at your brain. “I- I remember..” You stutter. You remember spilling your guts. You remember the feeling of hands. You remember the smell of alcohol.
You feel the bile rising in your throat. You feel faint. You don’t even realize that you’re shaking until you feel Dick wrapping his arms around you for stability. Pushing him away isn’t an option, you’re too weak. So instead, you cry into his shoulder. You want to yell and scream but you also want to hug him back and beg for his help. Kyle was stealing your life. He ripped everything from you, and you complied with a smile on your face. But he gave you what you wanted. What you needed. Love.
When Dick pulls away you notice that everyone has moved closer, almost hovering over you. Your first response is to get out as fast as you can. Bringing your fist up to your mouth you clear your throat.
“I need to be alone.” You say quiet.
Tim quirks a brow. “Are you sure you should be alone right now? I feel like-”
Bruce cuts in, disregarding Tim’s concern. “It’s ok. You’re processing. Take your time and come back when you’re ready.” He’s doing the right thing, he thinks to himself. You’re supposed to give kids space, right? Even so, he was unsure how to deal with a teenage girl especially one dealing with these emotions. It was better you calmed down first before he could get some proper answers for the investigation.
The room is silent as you get up and rush towards the entrance. When you’re back in the hallway, it feels like you can finally breathe again. You take a second before starting up the stairs.
“[Reader.]” A voice calls from behind.
You turn around and are met with Damian’s green eyes staring into your own. He stands tall but the awkwardness of his posture tells you the truth. It was a moment just like this he had watched you leave.
“What do you want?” You say, more exhausted than angry.
“I would have stopped you if I had known where you were truly going.” He starts, stepping up the first step, closer to where you were.
“I’d have shielded you from that vile man.” He seems to grimace at the mention.
From the moment you had come back, Damian had been stumped. He knew himself very well inside and out. He could control his body flawlessly from being drilled with discipline since birth, and could always pinpoint what he was feeling. But since you had come back, those thoughts were being challenged. He knew he was guilty. But for some reason, he couldn’t tell if he felt guilty because he cared for you, or if he felt guilty because you had visible marks. The times he had made you upset and shut yourself in your room, he felt nothing. Out of sight out of mind. But here was something he couldn’t ignore this time. The dark purple bruises seemed to taunt him.
You stared down at him, your face blank. Your eyes are red and puffy and your cheeks tear stained.
“Then why didn’t you ask?” You question. It was simple, but Damian was at a loss for words. You both knew the answer to your question, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.
You nod and turn away, walking quickly up the rest of the stairs. Damian doesn’t follow. The walk down the long hallways seems to stretch on the quiet leaving nothing but you and the memory of the whole intervention replaying again and again in your head. When you get to your room the first thing you do is search for your phone.
You find it face down on your bedside table. When you grab it and look at the screen, your heart skips a beat. Kyle had texted you.
Kyle: they fucking arrested me.
Kyle: fucking lazy ass cops weren’t watching and I left haha.
Kyle: wya?
You’re quick to text back and tell him you’re at the manor again. You know they’ve probably got a camera in your old blind spot before, so you’ll have to think of something else. You remember a spot you used to go as a kid, somewhere you knew no one ever bothered to check.
He tells you he’s on the way and you leave the room immediately. You can’t got down the main staircase unless you want to be caught immediately. Lucky for you, Wayne manor is huge and there is always another staircase. After turning some corners you come to a side staircase that’s is rarely used, maneuvering through the rest of the manor until you were outside. As the cold wind blew through your hair on the way to the spot, you couldn’t help but feel a bit sad that you hadn’t been caught. Even after this, they didn’t care too much about what you did or where you were.
After standing in the freezing cold for what felt like forever, you finally see the familiar front of his truck. As soon as he parks you run up to the vehicle, swinging the door open and throwing your arms around him as soon as you get inside.
As you start driving off you look back at the manor through the back window. No one comes outside. It was silly, but you were imagining them noticing you were missing, and running out to chase the truck to get you back. Your turned back to face forward, your eyes teary.
Kyle notices and puts a hand on your thigh, his thumb making circular motions that slowly start getting higher and higher. You smile as a tear slips down your cheek.
This was it. You were finally going to be happy.
A/N: part 2 finally here! I’m so sorry it took so long, I don’t usually write regularly but I tried my best! I thought about making this have comfort but than I decided to be mean so I hope you like it 🫠
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Dick would be the first to apologise in arguments.
He would be the one to say he's sorry that he's done something wrong, because he'd much rather apologise for something he didn't do (or did do) rather than earn silent treatment from you.
He can't imagine a night without hearing you moaning and screaming his name until the neighbours start remembering it :(
yeessss pls keep feeding my inbox with bernard and jay for when i get baaaaccckkk 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤 i'm so excited to write and post again. atp, i dont even care who is requested. as long as its not my least favorite blonde.
