vicky victor vancington

Summary: Jason wait for you at a restaurant, only to realize you’re not coming. As he’s about to go home, you run up to him with soaked clothes and a good explanation.

content: this is fluff, maybe a little whumpy in the middle, reader and jason kiss (their first kiss!!), could be gn!reader but witten with fem!reader in mind, reader fits in jason’s clothes/is smaller than jason (in my mind jason is massive so anybody is smaller than him, even if your thic)

a/n: realizing a lot of my fics include ordering food with jason, actually I wanted to make them still eat at the restaurant but them going home felt easier. english is not my first language, my whole writing process is basically looking up synonyms. this is also not proofread. please don’t be afraid to like, reblog and comment! 💌

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“Okay, you got this.” Jason sighs, staring at himself in the small mirror of the restaurant the two of you decided to meet at, which he’s noticeably too tall for by the way his back is bend to catch the upper half of his face.

With a deep breath, he turns and pushes the door open, making his way back to the table he’s been seated at by the waiter when he first walked in. He sits down, facing the booth opposite him, pulling out his phone to check the time. Five minutes until seven pm, the time you both agreed to meet.

He shuts his phone off and stuffs it back into his pocket, anxiously tapping his fingers on the edge of the table. Jason knew he had no tangible reason to be nervous. It was just you.

But it was also you. His best friend. His person. The one who’s been by his side the last few years, who made coming back into his old life easier, who made his new life worth living. And he had finally gotten the courage to confess his feelings and ask you on an date. A real date; not one of your typical hangouts.

The minutes fly by while he waits, and he tries not to check his phone again as he watches the rain start to fall and splat again the windows of the restaurant, slowl descending in small rivulets.

After what feels like forever and a day, he checks his phone again, reading the time. It’s now ten minutes past your designated time. Ten minutes is fine, right? Maybe you were just running late. You’d be here any moment. You had to be.

But after more time passing, the waiter asking for the countless time if his date is still coming, offering him a basket of bread with pity all over their face, Jason starts to doubt that you’re coming.

Instead, he glares at the bread he silently accepted, trying to tell himself that you wouldn’t stand him up. You would have at least let him down honestly, and not lead him on.

Time flies, and before he knows it, Jason has been sat there for over an hour. His jaw clenched, he throws a five dollar bill on the table before making his way out of the restaurant, ignoring the pitying stares of the staff.

The rain has heavily intensified when he steps out, so he stands there for a moment, realizing that you, his best friend, didn’t seem to like him that much after all. He was so stupid.

He debates waiting it out, but decides he just wants to go home, stuff himself full with one of his shitty frozen meals and don’t speak to anyone for the next week.

As he’s taking the first steps, a million thoughts run around his head, but they’re interrupted as he glances across the street, only to spot you, running towards him with wet strands of hair clinging to your face, your outfit completely soaked.

You stop in front of him, trying to catch your breath like you just ran a marathon. “Jason!” you call, panting as you place a hand over your beating heart as you stop in front of him.

Jason watches you, your chest rising up and down as your eyes search for any indication in his face that he’s mad at you.

“I‘m really sorry.” you exhale. “I swear I left my apartment on time! But then my neighbor, you know the old lady, she needed help and I tried to tell her I needed to go but she insisted and then I missed my bus and so I ordered an Uber and he was a really weird guy and he made some questionable turns and insisted we stop at a corner shop so I just speed walked from there.” you finish rambling, now even more out of breath than before, if that was even possible.

He stares at you, a million thoughts running through his head. But he speaks the most prominent. “You speed walked, from a bodega, while it was raining, just so you could still make it here, even if you didn’t know if I had left already?“

You swallow, nodding in agreement. “Yes.”

“You hate being out in the rain.” he states.

“Yes.” you agree once again.

An unexpected smile spreads on his lips, and even a soft, small laugh escapes him as he shakes his head. “You’re stupid.”

“Yes.” you agree for a third time, a smile matching his own now on your face, mirroring his. “But you like me anyways… right?”

Jason is silent for a moment, his gaze scanning across your face, watching you look up at him, smile of your face, cheeks warm, hair sticking to your face. God, does he like you.

“Let’s go home and order dinner.” he tells you, taking off his jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders.

You look up at him confused as you pull the jacket closer around you, your senses filling up with his scent. “What about our date?”

He wraps his arm across your shoulders, beginning to move forward on the sidewalk. “We can do it at my place.”

After arriving at his place, Jason sends you to the bathroom with a change of his clothes to take a shower, wanting you to warm up from the rain while he orders food for the two of you.

You step out of the bathroom to find sitting on his sofa, now in sweatpants and a dark tshirt, while you’re in one of his hoodies and a pair of basketball shorts you had to tie really tightly so they won’t fall down as soon as you take a step.

He pats the space next to him, inviting you to sit next to him. It’s quiet for a beat, then you break the silence. “I’m really sorry, Jay.”

He shakes his head as he turns to face you. “It’s okay, really. At least I know you didn’t stand me up.”

He says it with a small huff, similar to a laugh, but you can tell there’s something deeper underneath it. “I would never stand you up, Jay. I really wanted to go on that date with you.” you explain. “And I still really want to.”

His gaze lingers on yours, slipping down to your lips before quickly meeting your eyes again. “I still want it, too.” he admits softly.

It’s so quiet you swear he could hear your heartbeat right now. You watch his face, and you notice that the two of you have neared closer, your thigh now touch his, your hand only a movement away. Before you know what comes over you, you speak what on your mind. “Can I kiss you?”

Jason is stunned, but he’s nodding and moving forward before he even really realizes what that actually means. You close the gab, pressing your lips to his in a soft, vulnerable kiss. His lips feel slightly chapped against yours, but you don’t care, enjoying the feeling and taste of him.

After a few seconds, it’s already over, and both of you are suddenly shy and blushing like little kids. “That was nice.” you breathe out, tongue poking out to lick across your lips.

“Yeah.” he breathes out the same as you, a little dazed, before a grin spread across his face. A matching smile crosses your mouth as you lean into him, enjoying the silence of his apartment, the only sound being the occasional siren of an ambulance or something rattling from the alleyway beside his apartment.

pairing: jason todd x fem! reader, platonic!damian wayne x fem!reader, platonic!tim drake x fem!reader, platonic!dick grayson x fem!reader

summary: Teaching Jason's girlfriend self-defense didn’t turn out as they expected.

word count: 890

warning(s): English is not my first language, not proofread, no use of y/n. Only dick, damian and tim on this fic, sorry! fake gun and knife

author's note: my ig's feed keeps popping this account, and i knew i had to do something with this hahah

˗ˏˋ ♡ fic inspired by this video and this one tooˊ˗

Boredom had arrived at Wayne Manor.

Everyone was gathered for a family lunch. It was customary for the whole family to get together at the Manor once a month to spend some family time—away from their vigilante lives.

It had been a couple of months since Jason had introduced his girlfriend to the family. Or rather, formally introduced her; after his siblings had invaded his apartment looking for answers about his disappearances.

The group was in the living room. Each one held a drink in their hands or had one by their side.

It had been a while since boredom had swept over the group, and now they were talking about the first thing that came to anyone’s mind.

“We could teach you some moves,” Dick said to the girl.

The conversation had drifted toward the lack of coordination among Gotham’s criminals.

Jason’s girlfriend turned to look at one of her brothers-in-law, frowning in confusion.

Jason laughed under his breath, the bottle of beer just inches from his mouth.

“Yeah... good luck with that.”

I saw a post about someone chiding Millennials for not knowing about JKRowlings transphobia, and asking how it is at all possible that people can exist in the world and the internet and, you know, not know.

Which I mean, I get. It is so present in so many of my online spaces that it seems astounding that someone could simply be ignorant! It feels impossible!

But let me tell you a story:

I went on a girls trip with a bunch of friends. All of us are rather incredibly liberal and all of us are incredibly online.

One girl would not stop talking about Harry Potter.

At one point, another girl asked her why she was ok with supporting it, and she had no real clue that JK Rowling was at all transphobic. She had heard that she likes to support Lesbian causes and thought “oh ok cool!” And that was it. She was AGOG with the news and rather horrified.

I must once again emphasize that she was an incredibly online person. She’s a foodie and a restaurant blogger.

Later in the trip we were picking restaurants and I suggested one I found on Google, and she gasped at me. Actually gasped, asking how I could ever be okay picking that one.

The shock must’ve been on my face, because she then told me all of the shitty things that restaurateur does. He abuses staff. Underpays them. Fires them on a whim. Is known for being one of the worst people to his employees in the entire restaurant business on this coast.

And she was so shocked I had never heard of this. Because in her mind, I was just as online as her. And in her online world, EVERYONE knew about this guy.

So I think the moral of this story is: always approach the other person with some empathy. Even online people, even people you think MUST know about how bad people are, may not have heard. It may truly be just them being on a different sphere of the internet than you.

So be gentle, be kind when letting people know they might not have heard about the cancellation of XYZ person. Don’t assume that everyone knows all the same info as you.

i imagine the live camera feed goes off one night while youre lying in bed. new sheets still hugging you warm after the dryer. the boys are off doing their personal night routines, heavy guard dogs lay at your feet.

with the chime of your phone, a notification alerts you of outside movement. you consider it to be a waving branch or passing car, yet check it nonetheless. something about inner intuition.

youre glad you did.

watching silently as someones shadow skirts along the darker parts of around your house. passing the kitchen windows with a ducked head, then round the back.

"fuck," you bite your lip. sighing quietly as you toss your phone. "johnathan!" four heads from the bathroom peek around the doorframe slow, eyes open with the use of a full name. johnny fights a grin, ready to watch his captain get chewed out by their lady.

"..ye' love?"

"theres some weird guy wandering 'round the house outside," you inform dryly. plucking your phone back up and leaving it there. you reach for your wine glass on the bedside table, sipping as their hearts fall to their ass.

sure, anxiety stirs low in your gut. nipping at your reason and concious. but you also are keen of what your boys have lived through, the dirtest negotiations and most horrific actions.

alway do they come back home into your arms.

you could blame it on pure lack of sleep, but its nicer to blame it on the assumption youre probably the safest person in town. perhaps city if you dare.

so you continue with scrolling through ao3.

paying a half mind as military tense rounds over their bodies. simon whistles for the dogs and grabs his pistol. grunting and rolling his bare shoulders in atonished anger at somones sheer audacity. i mean for fuck sakes the mans tired. 

johnnys sneaking grin falls, replaced by a flat face as hes quick to grab a flashlight and gun. moving out the door on simons heels. big dogs herding around them.

"stay 'ere yeah love? dont open the fuckin' door," johns voice is a low growl. grabbing a hunters knife ( anniversary gift from you, his names carved in the wood ) and moving to the window. room lights flipped off when johnny left. scanning the open grass with an annoyed brow twitch. "kyle, wi' me."

kyle nods, glancing back three times to make sure youre content. careful to lock the bedroom door and leave a weapon with you, which he drills in not to touch less you hear the burglar. with a final glance, hes gone with the rest of them.

your ears perk for movement outside. glass shatters and a door kicks open. youre pretty sure you hear the guy shriek — most definitely simons doing, weird fucker was waiting in the dark — a brisk struggle before the house falls silent, words they dont want you hearing are exchanged then hes thrown out onto the grass.

hes quick to jump up and scurry off, wet pants uncomfortable and now stinking.

Everyone is panicking in the cave. He hasn't stopped crying. He doesn't recognize Alfred because at this age, they haven't met yet. He refuses to be held or tended to

There are weird people who brought him to a cave full of scary bats trying to ask him questions and he can't find his mommy or his-

"Papa!"

Tiny Bruce waddles to the tall, broad figure emerging from the shadows, clad in black and leather. He cries into his leg, hugging him tight. Everyone is frozen in fear and awe.

"Papa, I'm scared! Where were you? Where's Mama? Are you okay? Papa, help me! It hurts!"

Jason, meanwhile, is having the whiplash of his fucking life

Because Jason looks like Bruce, who looks like Thomas Wayne