Fic Recs - Oneshots

Hoping I haven’t missed the requests closing 🙏if so pls ignore!

I’m humbly asking for a fluffy Gaz x reader and reader meeting price bc I’ll die on the hill of Price and Gaz having a father/son relationship. And Gaz being so nervous on what price thinks? Brownie points if Price teases him! I love Gaz sm and I wanna smooch him on the forehead!!

Shaky Fingers

PAIRING: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: The perfect date night begins with a stolen wallet and a goose chase.

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

WARNINGS: None, just fluff

A/N: Switched some stuff around so it's more of the 141 as a whole, but it's still pretty much the same, enjoy Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You think Gaz was about ready to call the whole night off.

Laughing, you shake your head and walk over to Kyle after flattening out your dress with fast hands. The apartment bedroom was ripe with the scent of cologne and perfume; the floor lamp was on and you had just finished placing a luxurious necklace over your neck. The twinkling stone blinks like a white eye in the low light. 

“Dear,” you chuckle deeply to your boyfriend of three years as his head is in his hands. Gaz sits on the bed, dejected. “It’s alright, I can pay for supper—it’s really not that big of a deal.” 

“Bloody thing,” He groans, his tux wrinkled from the frantic patting he’d done to his pockets a few minutes prior. “I swear, Love, it was right in my pocket near noon!” 

“Kyle,” stopping in front of him, you grab at his wrists, peeling his hands away from his handsome face. Grumpy eyes lock on yours but soften as you send an easy, reassuring, smile his way; the lines on his forehead fall from a harsh line to a squiggly suggestion on the page that is his face. He sighs. “It’s okay.” 

Chuffing at the absurdity, your tone is a bit teasing.

“You’re acting like I don’t have a job, too,” Kyle grumbles at this, and his oval face shifts in a play of exaggerated exasperation.

“I’m not making you pay for our anniversary dinner, I’d never be able to sleep at night.” He says, and he captures your hands in his own, holding them together and bringing them to his lips for a delicate kiss. You tilt your head and watch, face heating. 

“So you can run into active warzones and get covered in all sorts of fluids but you can’t handle letting your girlfriend pay for food? Kyle, you sound ridiculous.” Leaning forward, you lay a smooch on his forehead and feel his body jerk out chuckles.

“Never said I didn’t like the idea,” Brown eyes lower in a small jab. A joke making his lips pull up in a smirk. “It’s called being a gentleman, Love.”

“A gentleman that loses his wallet, apparently. Not very soldier-like, Sergeant Garrick.” Your eyelids crinkle as you grin, firing back just as fast as Gaz blinks, brought back to the dilemma that was pushing back your departure for the restaurant down in the city. A pointedly expensive restaurant.

“It was right on me! I swear, this has never happened before.”

You shrug, straightening up to full height and tugging at Kyle’s dress shirt; prompting him to stand up so you can straighten his tie. He does so without complaint, and your fingers spread over fine silk.

“I’m gutted. We can’t go until I find it. I’m not even that worried about my money—it’s my damn ID that’s draggin’ me by the arse.” You glance up at him, humming, before pulling at the neck of his shirt and setting the tie comfortably under. Kyle’s grip goes to rest on your waist and you slightly melt into his chest more.

“Base ID?” Your voice mutters out in question.

“Yeah, that’s the bloody one. Price’ll kill me if he finds I’ve lost it. Fuckin’ hell.” Sighing deeply, you sag into him, your chin going to rest on his collarbone so you can look up at him with a tiny glimmer of understanding. 

Gaz’s jaw was tight with worry, brows drawn in and those two tiny scars on his left cheek pulled stiff. His stubble brushed your nose as he angled his head down to stare into your eyes when your grip traveled to wrap around his waist loosely. He huffs and kisses your nose bridge. 

“I’m sorry, Sweetheart, I’m ruining the night with all this talk. We should be out already, shouldn’t we?” You’re already frowning at him, pinching his side as he grunts in surprise and stifles a boyish laugh.

“Quit that,” you say, “this is just as important. Do you remember where you last put it?” 

You’d never been to Kyle’s work before—that is, the military base where he’s stationed at. He doesn’t really have a workplace per se, just a temporary office and barracks room if he needed it. The Sergeant is off across the world more often than not. 

“I haven’t got a clue,” Kyle’s voice goes low but his chest rises with gratification at the genuine care you show to him over something as silly as this. Heat rises to his cheeks when your fingers run back and forth over his back—his own hands tighten around you, keeping you close. “I knew I had it at lunch. I went out and got you those flowers from that floral shop that you like—I had to use my ID to get back on Base.”

Those very flowers were sitting in a vase on your vanity, bright and vibrant. You’d swooned when Kyle had gotten back to the apartment with them. 

“Alright,” your eyes stare off into your boyfriend’s brown orbs, focussing deeply. Gaz sees your nose scrunch in thought and he smiles widely, chuckling and lightly beginning to sway the two of you back and forth to unseen music. “Lunch,” you mutter, barely noticing.

“Don’t strain yourself, now,” Kyle teases.

“Hush,” Scolding, you fake a scowl and feel him rest his forehead on yours. His hair tickles your flesh and you giggle. Heart pounding, Gaz listens to you speak as if caught in a trap of his own making, gaze exceptionally soft and breathing secondary to the way your mouth curls into a smile; how your beauty ensnares him in your otherworldly glow. “Anything else, Dear?”

“Hm,” Blinking out of his love-struck gaze, Kyle thinks deeply—straining his mind. A memory sparks and a flame burns in his gut. His expression flips as the air sparks. “MacTavish…oh, that fucker’s dead.” 

You make a noise of confusion as Gaz starts rambling, pulling back from you and beelining for the keys on the nightside table. Face open and soft with shock, you stutter a small laugh when the man darts back and grabs you by the shoulders; angling you to the bedroom door and to the foyer. 

“Gaz?” You chuckle endearingly at his annoyed face, his lips pulled tight, and his eyes narrow on nothing as he releases you. He bends down and snatches your heels, turning and bending a knee with a groan.

“Bastard. I knew he would get to me eventually, Love, it was only a matter of time.” 

“‘Get to you?’” Amusement makes you place a hand over your lips before a loud snort can escape your lungs. “Kyle, what are you on about?” 

His nimble fingers loop the buckle of the heels over your ankle, pulling to a comfortable tightness as he cradles your calf. Brown eyes glance up at you with deep seriousness.

“Soap…I told you about him, yeah?” you nod and carefully place your foot back down; letting Gaz pick up the other and slip your foot into the expensive material. The smile never leaves your face as the calloused hands scrape your flesh. Kyle huffs out a scoff. “He’s been pulling all of our legs for weeks—got to some of the recruits first but it bled over to One-Four-One. Didn’t think he’d fuck with me so soon; would have prepared otherwise.”

“The Scottish one?” You stand fully on your two feet and grab your coat from the hook and slip it over your shoulders, glancing at Gaz as he puts on his own shoes. You go over and kiss the top of his head in thanks for the assistance with your own. “So you were pranked?”

“When he bumped into me,” your boyfriend explains, and you’re being carefully corralled out the door with your arm resting in the crook of his elbow; you grip the nice fabric of his suit and listen with rapt attention and a toothy smile. “I thought he’d just wanted to hurry on to the pub—I didn’t think much of his grab at my waist as anything more than to keep him steady. Mate stole my fucking wallet.”

He says it so aghast that you giggle and see him blink, expression turning cheeky.

“What?” Gaz looks over at you with a raised brow and a smirk. “Look at that beautiful smile—you think this is funny, Love? You are just wicked, you are.” 

“I think it’s hilarious,” your body leans into his heavily; pulling his body heat into yours and making you all toasty as you gaze at him with love. “Are we going on a mission, Sergeant?” 

Gaz stares with a vast haze of affection and pleasure, “Damn right we are.” An arm wraps around your waist and squeezes your flesh—your face goes warm. “We’re trackin’ down a shit-faced Scot on our anniversary. Bloody brilliant if you ask me. You have my six?” 

“Well,” you sigh with enjoyment, not at all angry or annoyed at the strained dinner reservation. Brown eyes crinkle at you. “It’ll be good to finally meet who you work with.” Your lips widen, “I’d be honored.”

“Christ, let’s just hope he has it on him.”

—

Gaz huffs as he pushes open the front door to the pub, and you take in the scent of tobacco and alcohol. With a muttered thanks to your boyfriend as he holds open the barrier for you, you slip inside and the smell only increases to a violent level. You blink around the old-style wood and decor, surprised with how much you enjoy the drunken cheeks and dim light atmosphere. Like a wave that goes in and out, your ears ring from music playing out a jukebox in the far corner. 

“This way, then,” Kyle sighs loudly, and you see his eyes have already locked into three men at the bar top. A loud roar of laughter accompanies the both of you as you head over to who you assumed were his coworkers. 

You glance down at your expensive attire and then at Gaz’s and stifle a loud laugh at the stares you’re getting. The two of you are comically overdressed. 

“MacTavish!” Your boyfriend calls eyes exasperated if not a bit annoyed. When all of the individuals at the bar turn to look at the two of you. “Want to explain why my wallet’s not in my fucking pant pocket right now?” 

You figure out who he’s talking to when the man with a strong face and a mohawk bursts out into chest-jerking laughter after a second of pure silence. His pale hands slap the table where his multiple empty shot glasses rattle against one another. 

“Oh, hell,” yep, Scottish. Gaz glowers next to you with a stiff frown until you elbow his side. He glances down and rolls his eyes as you chuckle—his arm going over your shoulders. 

“Fuckin’ not again—What’s he done?” The gravel in the bearded man’s tone took you aback for a moment, such a low and grating voice laced with a firm authority. A black beanie was on top of his brown hair, and tiny orbs colored like the sea turned to stare.

They blink in slight surprise when they find you, curiously shifting the lines present.

“Johnny, what the fuck?” A shrouded man grumbles, a face mask sitting comfortably over most of his expression and a hood up over his head. Blueish-gray eyes blink in your direction before their numbness shifts back to the wheezing Scot. 

“Ah, Christ, I’m sorry,” Johnny gasps, clearly drunk by the flush to his skin. You spare a look with Gaz and can’t help the amused twitch of your brow. “Didn’t realize I’d forgotten to give it back to ya!” 

“Stole my bloody wallet is what he’s done,” Kyle mutters to the man with a beard, who you assumed to be his Captain only by the atmosphere surrounding him. “We’re late for dinner.”

“Kyle, I told you it’s alright,” your hand goes to pinch his cheek before his face heats up so much you feel it from your fingers. Eyes shifting, you address the three with a smile. “Such a worrier this one,” you huff and introduce yourself by name, “...it’s a pleasure.”

“Pleasure’s all ours, Sweetheart,” the Captain grunts, raising his nearly empty glass into the air in greeting. “Good to finally put a face to a name. John Price. John’s all well and good.” He motions to the masked man. “Ghost.”

You send a nod and a grin the large and intimidating Brit’s way. All he does is stare before blinking slowly.

“Soap,” Kyle levels, shifting away from you and walking closer to the Scot with a loosely motioning hand, “C’mon, Mate, you’re piss-faced—hand it over.” 

“Does he always do this?” You ask easily to Price and Ghost as the other two go at it like teens.

John shares an amused glance with you and grunts out a low chuckle. “Not always, told him to tone it down ‘fore he gets Disciplinary.” 

Ghost huffs in agreement, scratching at his arm. 

“Like tellin’ a fuckin’ dog not to go after a bone.” You snort, looking back at your boyfriend as he begins patting down a limp and slurring Soap like airport security. 

“Seems you two have got your hands full. I know Kyle isn’t above poking fun, either.” 

“Waitin’ for them to burn each other out, Love,” John utters, and you share a cheeky smile with him. 

You enjoyed how easy it was to converse with the man—especially the one that was in charge of your boyfriend while he was away. It puts you at ease to finally meet all of them... no matter how shit-faced. 

“Aha!” Gaz’s form rips out the body of his leather wallet with a shout of victory. Soap grumbles, rubbing at his face with the heel of his palm. 

“If I’d known you were takin’ your bonnie girl out I’d have taken your tags instead.” 

“Well look at that, so considerate,” Kyle chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re demented, Mate.” 

“Ah, that’s just the top of it, eh?” You chuckle at the Scot’s comment, pulling out your phone from your jacket pocket and checking the time. 

“Can we still make it?” Kyle asks, jogging back up to you as you click your tongue; turning the screen and showing him with a smirk.

“Think they’ll forgive a fifteen-minute absence?” Your boyfriend slowly deflates and your face softens at the sight of his sagging shoulders. John sighs long at his seat and stands; slapping a hand on Kyle’s shoulder and lightly placing one on yours. 

Gaz looks up at him in surprise. 

“Well, that’s proper bad luck,” the Captain starts, face serious and tiny eyes narrowed, “say what, then, the two of you pick what you want and Soap’ll cover the cost for the night.” Ghost huffs a dull bark of a laugh from his seat. You’re not even sure Johnny heard it above him tipping back another shot. 

You and Kyle share a glance before twin smirks form on both of your faces. 

“Can…you do that, Sir?” Kyle asks, accusatory.

“What kind of a bloody question is that?” John grunts before staring at you. “Now, don’t think too hard about it, eh? MacTavish has been getting too bold—maybe losin’ a few bills’ll screw his head back straight.” 

“I have no problem with it,” your eyes slide to your boyfriend, raising an eyebrow. “You?”

John chuckles and pats your shoulders, squeezing. “Knew she’d jump on it.”

Kyle laughs, making the most of the situation as he nods a few times—watching you with his eyes drowned with warmth and affection. 

“I’m down.” You giggle excitedly and slip into one of the dirty bar seats next to Ghost, eagerly trying to get him into a conversation about drinks and good food available in your expensive dress and jacket. 

Gaz stares after with a tiny smile, slipping his wallet into his pocket where it belongs. 

“Proper Bird,” John mutters, glancing at his Sergeant, grunting as Kyle chuffs. “It’s good to have something like that to go back to. Make it last, then.”

“I don’t plan on messing this up, Boss,” Gaz’s cheeks go hot with embarrassment, but it’s telltale how his eyes never leave your frame for a single second. “Not on my life.”

“Good.” John nods his head, “Go on.”

Kyle sends him a thankful look and shuffles over to the empty seat next to yours; feeling you immensely snuggle up into his side and continue your mostly one-sided conversation with Ghost. Soap was still drinking down his beverages with loud comments every once and a while.

Gaz kisses the top of your head and waves over the bartender.

TAGS:

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Batfamily - 530*160

Artist : Lan.C

broken glass

simon riley doubts his worthiness of having you | hurt/comfort(?)

sorry i was gone for so long. i haven’t felt motivated in a while. this is just an attempt to get back into writing. i’ve been working on various projects, abandoning them halfway through. was relatively proud of this, so i’ve decided to post it.

mentions of abuse. insecurities. i don’t know, tell me if i missed any.

He was born into a home of broken glass, every argument a shard, every silence a fracture.

Simon Riley had been born into chaos. His earliest memories were of screams that echoed through the halls of a crumbling home, the heavy thuds of fists against thin walls, the sound of a door slamming as his mother stumbled from the house, her face bruised and hollow. His father, always drunk, was a constant presence—a shadow, a monster—who only softened when his fists fell silent, usually in a moment of fleeting remorse, or more likely, when his anger was spent.

He was a man who was shattered like thin glass, a splinter that made you bleed and quickly pull your hand away like there was fire. He drew blood, his hands rough and calloused, a man too harsh to be loved. War was all he had, and all he’d known, even if he wanted to know better. He had so many questions, and yet he choked on the words as he tried to ask, instead opting to drown deeply in the cacophony of screams. He searched for peace, a man who’d never experienced such, echoes of gunshots ringing in his ears and never offering any silence. He was engineered by a system to survive, to endure, but never to heal.

Simon didn’t sleep anymore, or, if he did, it was never rest.

His whole life had been dedicated to violence, actively seeking it as much as he avoided it. He felt stained with the blood he drew, scars along his back only indicating the pain he endured rather than that which he caused. Simon was a man who was supposed to be dead, and yet, the cruel God which seemed to have cursed him refused to let such a thing occur. His soul cracked in ways he couldn't articulate, his body a crumpled map of all he'd been through. He’d gone through existence without ever living.

He sought for warmth and comfort, even though he knew he could never be worthy of such a thing. He was a man who stained the snow-lands a deep scarlet. He was a wreck of a man who broke everything with his touch, strangling flowers in his grasp.

Perhaps that was why he fell so hard for you. You were like a beacon of light, granting him some solace. Giving him sympathies which he didn’t deserve, yet he yearned for. His head rested on your chest as he listened to your heart beat, assuring him that you were real and you were here. Whispered confessions of love still left doubt in his twisted mind, convinced you’d find someone better than him. He was convinced you might leave, holding on tightly to you and treating you as best as a man like him knew how to.

He’d never had a proper role model for love, most of the things he knew having been learned from books he’d stumbled upon or movies he’d watched. He was a man with a wicked father, and no matter the care of his mother, that evilness he believed was deep inside him could never be cancelled out. Love was a foreign language to him.

After all, there was no escaping the ghosts that haunted him, for he was one himself.

And yet you made him believe it might be possible.

His harsh voice would whisper your name like a secret prayer, his hand with its scarred knuckles gripping your gentle hand tightly. Perhaps he was finally starting to believe you might not go anywhere.

One night, in the capture of the moonlight which snuck through the cracks of the pulled curtains, Simon asked, slightly more loudly than he intended to, “why do you love me?”

Fingers that were previously toying with his slowed to a stop, and you adjusted yourself to stare at him. “What do you mean?” you replied. Your brows were furrowed, confusion evident on your face, and yet Simon could swear you looked like a deity. A blessing, was what you were to him. Someone who managed to let him know that maybe he wasn’t as ill as he’d convinced himself he was, a carefully-crafted facade having broken down more as the months turned into years.

He sat up, not sure how to word it. He was a man of few of those, after all. He plainly answered, “exactly what I asked,” slightly shrugging.

You bit your lip, seemingly thinking for a moment. It felt like a stupid question. Why did anyone love anyone, after all? Why did he love you, you could even ask. You swallowed, deciding to softly say, “because you’re worth loving.”

And perhaps he might one day start to believe he is, especially of the love of yours. The moments of bared insecurity were rare, occurring in only the latest times of night, the moon the only other witness of the confessions. They were caused by exhaustion, barely recalled when the sun rose. Yet, each night it happened, as he let himself sometimes cry in your arms after a nightmare, or letting drops of pain drip out of his soul, he was slowly starting to believe your honesty when you said you would not leave.

When you said that you love him.

He was a man with a shattered ego which he’d tried to tape back together flimsily, yet you made new parts of him which were whole. Certain parts could never be filled, but as long as you were in his arms, the pains of his soul may slowly fade away into nothing but background noise, lullabies of your words drowning them out as delicate fingers ran themselves over his scarred and tortured body.

A hand rough from holding knives and guns could tend for flowers as well, he was slowly starting to learn.

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— drunken night —

Warnings: alcohol intoxication, excessive drinking, fluff, sprinkle of angst, pregnancy, allusions to violence, nudity (not sexually), a few suggestive comments

Summary: Jason comes home from a boys night out.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Female Reader from She’s Mine

Word Count: ~4.7k

A/N: I was initially writing a drabble, but I got carried away. So it’s a little longer than expected, but full of cute drunk Jason. Please, feast upon this!

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Jason fumbled with his keys, trying to unlock the front door, his coordination impaired by the alcohol. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he managed to open the door and step inside. Roy and Dick followed behind, still thoroughly entertained by the entire situation. They toed off their boots and threw their jackets on a sofa. 

“Careful there, Jaybird. Don’t want you tripping over your own feet now, do we?” Dick drawled out, a little tipsy, but much better than Jason. Jason shot both of them a withering glare before stumbling into the living room. He collapsed onto the couch, groaning as his muscles finally relaxed from the strain of walking. 

“You both are assholes, you know that?” He seethed at them. It was their fault he was drunk anyway—he would never admit it was actually his stubbornness to prove to them he wouldn’t be the first to cut out of the drinking game. 

Roy smirked, unable to resist taking another jab at him. “Yeah, but we’re your assholes, dude. And right now, we’re having the time of our lives watching you stumble about like a drunken buffoon.”

Jason groaned again, closing his eyes. “Thanks for the support. Really feeling the love here,” he grumbled out sarcastically. His head throbbed at the thought of you seeing him like this. 

Dick laughed, unable to hold back his amusement. “Trust me, little bird,” he started with a shit-eating grin as he flopped down to the couch, “this is how we show our love. We lovingly tease and humiliate your drunk ass.”

Roy chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s right, dude. This is just our way of showing we care.” He glanced at the stairs lead for a moment before his gaze flickering back to Jason. “We’re taking the piss out of your state right now because we care. It's called tough love.”

Jason lifted his head just enough to give them a sarcastic smile. “Oh, I feel so loved right now. My heart is just bursting with joy and appreciation.”

“Yeah, Jay. Consider yourself lucky we’re not recording this entire scene for future blackmail purposes,” Dick chimed in, a cheeky grin on his face. 

A floorboard creaked overhead and Jason’s eyes widened as he and the other two men snapped their heads up towards the ceiling. “Please don’t tell me that’s her coming down the stairs...” he muttered, bracing himself for the worst. Dick and Roy turned their attention to the staircase, curious to see what will unfold when you came down at this time of night. 

“Oh, mate, you’re in trouble now,” Dick said with a chuckle, unable to hide his excitement.

Jason groaned, feeling the effects of the alcohol still weighing heavy on him. He tried to sit up a bit straighter on the couch, but it only made his head spin more. “Yeah, I know... I’m screwed.”

You came down to the last step, arms crossed and an unamused expression in your face at the sight of your drunk husband and his tipsy friends. Your hair was in a braid while you wore an old band tee of his to cover your big belly fully and some maternity sweatpants. 

Jason’s eyes widened as he saw you standing at the bottom of the stairs, your arms crossed and a look of annoyance on your face. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, bracing himself for the impending storm. 

Roy snickered, loving every moment of Jason’s discomfort. “Oh, dude, you’re in for it now. The missus doesn’t look too happy, does she?” Roy exchanged a glance with Dick and tilted his head towards the door, a silent plea to leave before you ultimately started your lecture for Jason. 

Dick nodded eagerly, not wanting to be in the middle of a couple’s quarrel. “We should get going,” Dick announced, nodding at you. 

You nodded back, eyes softening slightly at the two. “Do you two have a ride home?” You asked, knowing if Jason was drunk, they’d also be tipsy enough not to drive. 

“Uh, yeah, we’ll be fine. We can call a taxi or something,” Dick replied, standing up from the couch.

“I can—” you started, about to offer to call an uber. 

Dick held up a hand to stop you. “No, no. We don’t want to impose any further. We’ll make our own way home. Besides, we’d hate to further ruin your night any more than we already have.”

You hummed. “Thank you for bringing him home safe,” you murmured, nodding at them. Dick and Roy nodded back, feeling relieved that the tension had eased a bit. 

“No problem. We’ll be sure to keep a closer eye on him next time,” Roy said, giving you a small smile. 

You smiled back slightly. “Be safe, you two.”

Dick and Roy nodded again, grabbing their jackets that they had thrown onto the sofa and heading towards the door. 

“We will, Y/N. Take care,” Dick called over his shoulder as he opened the front door. 

Roy followed close behind, stepping into his boots. “Yeah, we’ll be careful. Thanks again for everything.” And with that, the pair left the house, the door closing softly behind them.

Jason watched in silence as Dick and Roy left, feeling a mix of relief and guilt. He knew he had caused quite a scene in front of them, both at home and at the bar, and he dreaded the thought of them ribbing him relentlessly for the things he had said and done. 

You glanced at him then, hands going to your hips. The movement made the tee stretch across your baby bump and the sight made Jason soften a little. He loved your bump. He loved touching it and talking to the baby. He was almost obsessed with it. 

As you turned your gaze a little sterner, Jason couldn’t help but wince. He knew that look all too well. It was the look that told him he was in for a lecture.

“Why are you so drunk?” You asked, feeling a little irritated at the fact that Jason would drink so much. You wanted him to have fun, but right now he was totally shit-faced. 

Jason looked up at you, feeling a little sheepish under your gaze. “I know, love, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so drunk,” he replied, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. He knew he had overdone it, and he couldn't deny feeling a bit guilty for letting things get out of hand. 

When you seemed to look unimpressed, he sighed and knew he’d have to come forward with a more sincere apology. 

“I guess the drinks just went down too easily, and before I knew it, I was pretty smashed.” He paused for a moment before adding, “I’m sorry for putting you through that. I know it’s not a great look, coming home like this.”

For some stupid reason, perhaps because of how much you loved him, your eyes softened at his genuine apology. “Stupid,” you muttered as one last word, an insult filled with fondness, before you let a hint of a smile grace your lips. 

Jason couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief wash over him as he saw your features soften even just the tiniest bit. He knew he was lucky to have you in his life and he never wanted to take that for granted. The way you had just called him stupid, but with a hint of affection in your voice, reminded him of the playful banter you two often engaged in.

He couldn’t help but crack a small smile in response. Even though he was in trouble for his drunk behaviour, he couldn’t help but find your affection endearing.

“Yeah, I know I’m a stupid drunk. I just got carried away, I guess. But I promise I won’t do it again,” he said, trying to sound sincere despite the alcohol still coursing through his system.

You sighed, shoulders loosening with the breath escaping you. “Tell me that when you’re sober,” you retorted gently, taking a seat on the sofa beside him. Your hands rested under your belly as you glanced at him. 

Jason chuckled softly, feeling a flutter of affection for you as you sat down next to him. Even though he knew he was still in hot water, he couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort in your presence. 

“Alright, I’ll tell you that when I’m sober,” he said, his eyes meeting yours. “But you know I can’t promise that I won’t have a drink or two again. It’s just... sometimes I need to unwind, y’know?”

You nodded, understanding the need to loosen up after a rough patrol or even a stuffy gala that he had to attend. You smiled slightly and nudged his shoulder with yours. “Just one or two.”

Jason smiled warmly as he felt your shoulder nudge him. The small gesture felt like reassurance; you weren’t angry with him, only concerned and slightly frustrated. 

“Just one or two,” he agreed, holding up two fingers in a mock salute. “I’ll try to stay within my limits.” 

“Good.” You stared at him for a moment, just raking your eyes over his flushed face and disheveled hair, finding it endear. You nodded, shifting slightly so that you could get up without losing your balance due to the bump. “You reek.”

Jason chuckled, knowing that you had a point. “Yeah, I suppose I do.” He rubbed his face with his hands, the smell of alcohol and smoke clinging to his skin and clothes. “I could use a nice hot shower.”

“Maybe not a shower with your jelly legs,” you teased, knowing very well that when Jason was wasted, he often stumbled and tripped over air. 

Jason chuckled weakly, knowing that you were right. Even though he was a highly trained vigilante, when he was this drunk, he couldn’t even walk without stumbling. 

“Yeah, you might have a point there.” He sighed as he looked at you. “Do you think you can help me to the bathroom? I’m afraid I’ll fall headfirst into the toilet unless you help me.”

“Yeah,” you said, nodding at his ask for assistance. He had done this a few times for you when you two had first started dating and you used to come home a little too drunk after a night out with friends. You supposed this was how he felt when he was caring for you; both finding it annoying and endearing. 

You helped him up from the couch. “I’ll run a bath for you, yeah?” You led him to the stairs and then paused, glancing between the stairs and your wobbly husband. “You think you’ll be fine on the stairs?”

Jason looked at the stairs with a mixture of defiance and hesitation. He didn’t want to look weak in front of you—or anyone for that matter, but he knew he wasn’t in the best shape to take on a flight of stairs. 

“Yeah, I think I can manage,” he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “Just, uh, keep a hold of me, yeah?” 

You nodded. “Just so you know, I’ll let go of you if I think I’m going to fall with you. I have the little one to think about.”

Jason nodded, sharing your concern for the baby’s safety. "Alright, that’s fair," he said, draping an arm heavily around your shoulders for support. "And don’t worry, I wouldn’t have let you fall."

With your help, Jason began the slow and careful ascent up the stairs. He clung to you and the stairs like a lifeline, his grip tight on your shoulder and the railing. Every step was a strain, his legs feeling like jelly and his head spinning from the alcohol. But Jason made it up the stairs, albeit with a lot of stumbling and muttered curses.

Despite the seriousness of safety, you couldn’t help but find the situation a little amusing; here you were, guiding your drunken husband up the stairs like a wobbly toddler. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you reached the top of the stairs and entered the bathroom. “Alright, sit down here,” you instructed, guiding him to the edge of the bathtub. 

Once he was sat, you gently helped him out of his clothes, now a little damp in some places with sweat. 

Despite his inebriated state, Jason tried his best to help you undress him, but it was a clumsy and awkward endeavor. He was grateful for your help, but also felt a bit embarrassed at his lack of coordination. Once Jason was undressed, he sat on the edge of the bathtub, looking up at you with a goofy smile.

You smiled back unconsciously, something that often was merely a result of seeing Jason happy. “What is it?” You asked in a quiet murmur, started to fill the tub with water, adding some epsom salt and lavender oil as well. 

Jason’s drunken smirk grew wider as he watched you prepare the bath, the smell of the soothing oils filling the room. “Nothing, just enjoying the view,” he replied jokingly, his eyes scanning over your form. “You look pretty damn hot, y’know that? No, wait, scratch that, you look absolutely gorgeous. Beautiful. Stunning.”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head fondly as a light wave of heat flushed your cheeks. For as drunk as he was, he was still the same flirt you knew. You didn’t know how he did it, even after three years of marriage, but he always managed to make you flustered. 

Jason let out a satisfied hum, enjoying the sight of you flustered as he complimented you. Even in his drunken state, he couldn’t resist teasing you. He knew just the right things to say to make you squirm and it was a skill he was proud of. 

“See, that's the reaction I was hoping for,” he said, pointing at your flustered state. “You still get all bashful after three years.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and nudged him, turning off the water. “Get in, you flirt.” 

Jason chuckled and slowly stood up, holding onto the edge of the bathtub for support. He stepped into the warm water and sunk down, letting out a sigh of contentment as the heat seeped into his muscles and joints. 

“Ah, this is nice,” he mumbled, his eyes half-closed. “Join me?” He peeked up at you with a smirk plastered to his face. 

You shook your head and sat down on the edge of the tub. “No. You’re drunk.” You tucked a hand under your belly while the other rested on the edge of tub to keep your balance. 

“Damn. Can't blame a man for trying.” Jason pouted playfully, but he knew you were right. Despite his desires, he was in no condition to be intimate with you right now. He leaned back against the bathtub, soaking in the warmth. 

“You're such a buzzkill, you know that?” He joked, the words slurring together slightly. He didn’t blame you for not wanting to get into the tub. If roles were reversed, he wouldn’t have gotten in either. 

You merely hummed as he moved to rest his head against your thigh. Jason closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of his head resting against your thigh. It was a simple but comforting gesture and it made him feel even more relaxed. 

“You know,” he said, his words still slurring slightly. “I don’t deserve you.”

You raised an eyebrow at his unexpected confession. “What makes you say that?” You asked softly, your free hand moving to gently stroke his hair. Jason groaned, enjoying the feel of your hand through his hair. 

“I just... I don’t know. I’m a mess, y’know? I screw up all the time. I'm always away on patrols and missions, I've got a stubbornness problem, and I'm hardly a ray of sunshine.” He paused for a moment, then added, “You deserve someone better than me.”

You sighed softly, your hand still stroking his hair. “Jason, you may have your flaws, but we all do. And you’re not a mess, you’re just human. You do what you have to do for your job, and sometimes it's hard on you.” 

You kissed his temple, whispering the rest against his skin. “And as for someone better than you, I don’t want anyone else; I want you.” 

Jason opened his eyes to look up at you, his gaze searching your face. He could see the sincerity in your eyes and it made his heart ache. 

“I just feel like I’m a disappointment,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m supposed to be the strong one, the protector. But here I am, drunk and needing you to take care of me again.” 

You leaned down, gently placing a kiss on his damp forehead. “You are strong, but that doesn’t mean you have to be strong all the time. Everyone needs help and support sometimes, even you.”

You continued, “As for being a protector, that doesn’t mean you can never show any weakness. You may be a vigilante, but you’re also human, and humans make mistakes and stumbles. And I’m here for you, to pull you back up when you stumble.” 

You rubbed your belly. “We’ll always be here.”

Jason’s eyes softened at your words and the gesture of rubbing your belly. He placed a hand on top yours, feeling the warmth of it and the knowledge that there was a baby growing inside you. 

“Yeah,” he said faintly. “You and the little one. You two... you’re my everything.”

“Yeah.” You smiled, cupping his cheek. “And you’re our everything.” 

You wanted to take every little self-deprecation thought of his and drown it in your reassuring words and sweet kisses, but you knew it would take a lifetime to do so. The best you could do was just tell him. Remind him why you chose him. 

Instead you settled on changing subject for now. “Boy or girl?” You asked with a glint in your eyes. 

Jason looked up at you, feeling the warmth of your hand on his stubbled cheek. The change of subject caught him off guard, but he appreciated it nonetheless. He pondered the question for a moment, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“Well, I don’t think we'll know for a while,” he said with a shrug. “But if I had to guess... I think it’s gonna be a girl.” 

You raised a brow, silently asking why. 

Jason chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I don’t know, just a feeling I have,” he said with a shrug. “I think it’s gonna be a little girl who’s as beautiful and strong as her mother.”

“And if it’s a boy?” You asked, not expecting anything but the best from him. You knew all he wanted was a healthy and happy baby. So did you. 

Jason smiled, a warm and genuine smile, at your question. “If it’s a boy, then he’s gonna be a little hellraiser, just like me,” he joked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “And I'll teach him everything I know about the world and how to take care of himself. But most importantly, I’ll teach him how to treat a woman right.”

He took your hand in his, his touch soft and gentle. "But no matter if it's a boy or a girl, they're going to have the best mother in the world. And that's all that matters in the end."

“And father,” you said, tugging his locks gently to emphasize your point. 

Jason chuckled softly, his head moving with the tugging of his hair. “Yeah, yeah. Of course, the best father in the world too.” He looked up at you, a small grin on his face. “Can I be honest with you for a moment?”

“Of course. Always.” You stroked his cheek as you reached for a wash cloth with your other hand. 

Jason sighed, his eyes closing briefly as he leaned his cheek into your touch. “I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “Terrified, actually. I don’t know anything about being a father. I had a terrible upbringing, and I’m afraid I’ll screw this up.”

You hummed, rinsing the cloth and then gently trailing it over the expanse of his back, not even blinking at the scars you had seen so many times that littered his body. 

“Can I be honest with you, baby?” You murmured, waiting for his response. 

Jason nodded, his eyes still closed as he relished the feel of the cloth gliding over his back. “Of course, sweetheart,” he murmured back, his voice low and rough.

“I think you’re worried for no reason,” you whispered, pressing the cloth into his skin a little firmer to drive in your point. “You’re attentive, caring, and responsible. You love with all you got and that’s what matters. Maybe you can’t be home all the time, but the quality of the time you do spend with us is what matters.”

Jason opened his eyes, his gaze settling on your face as you spoke. Your words sunk in, each one chipping away at the self-doubt that had settled in the back of his mind. You were right. He was more than capable of being a good father. The fear of screwing up was natural, but he had to trust himself and his abilities to do right by you and the baby. 

“You always know what to say,” he murmured, his voice tinged with an edge of amazement and affection. 

You grinned. “That’s what happens when I know your brain, Mr. Todd, and, as your wife, I’m supposed to know what to say.”

Jason chuckled weakly at that, his shoulders shaking slightly in the warm water. “Supposed to, huh?” he said, a small smirk playing at his lips. “Well, I’m glad you do. I swear, you’re the only one who can put up with me and my bullshit.” 

You put away the wash cloth with a gentle smile before grabbing his shampoo and pouring a decent amount on your hand. “I love you,” you murmured before massaging it into his scalp. 

Jason closed his eyes again, the feeling of your fingers massaging the shampoo into his scalp making him sigh in contentment. “I love you too,” he murmured back, his voice low and raspy. As you continued to rub his scalp, he couldn't help but let out a soft moan, the mixture of the heat and your touch lulling him into a state of blissful relaxation.

As you worked through his hair, you noticed how tension seemed to seep out of his body. His shoulders relaxed, and the lines on his forehead seemed to soften. You smiled softly, loving the effect you had on him.

“Feeling better?” You asked quietly, your fingertips tracing lazy circles on his scalp.

Jason hummed in agreement, his head lolling back against the edge of the tub. “Much better.” He opened his eyes briefly to look up at you, a lazy smile gracing his features. “You have magic hands, you know that?”

You chuckled softly. “Is that so?” You continued massaging his scalp for a few more moments before rinsing the shampoo from his hair. The warm water cascaded down over his head, the suds running in rivulets down his neck and back.

As you finished rinsing the shampoo out, you noticed his gaze was on your belly, his hand moving to rest on the small bump.

Jason’s eyes were drawn to the swell of your belly, his hand reaching up to rest gently on top of it. His touch was tender, almost reverent. It was clear that he was already feeling protective of the life growing inside you.

"You're starting to show a little bit more now," he commented softly, his finger tracing a gentle circle around your belly button.

You hummed, feeling the slight swell of your belly under his hand. It was a constant reminder of the life growing inside you, and it made your heart flutter every time you thought about it. 

“Yeah,“ you murmured, your hand covering his. “Won’t be able to hide it much longer with these old shirts of yours.” 

Jason chuckled, his eyes shifting to the oversized shirt you were currently wearing. It was one of his old ones, the fabric faded from years of wear and tear. 

“I like seeing you in my clothes,” he said, his fingers lightly tracing your hip. 

You hummed. 

“Makes me think about what you're wearing beneath them,” he added, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

You laughed then, flicking his nose and getting up carefully to make sure your balance didn’t falter with the growing weight of the baby. 

Jason chuckled at the playful flick on his nose, his eyes watching you as you stood up, carefully making sure you didn't lose balance. “Careful there, sweetheart,” he said, his hand resting on your hip briefly to steady you. 

You could see the weariness in his eyes now, the exhaustion slowly taking over as the effects of the alcohol wore off. He looked tired, both physically and emotionally. 

“Looks like the alcohol is wearing off,” you murmured, your hand tracing his shoulder.

Jason nodded weakly in agreement, his head lolling back against the edge of the tub. “Yeah... it's catching up to me now,” he said, his voice hoarse and tired. “I’m gonna pass out any second, I think.”

You smiled. “Let me grab your towel and get you dried up.” 

Jason grunted in assent, his eyes fluttering open as he let you attend to him. He was too tired to protest, and secretly he relished the feeling of your touch, tender and loving, as you dried him off with a soft towel.

You draped the towel over his shoulders, gently patting his back and chest dry. Jason leaned into your touch, his body heavy and weary. You could see the exhaustion etched in the lines of his face, the weight of the world and his demons catching up with him.

“Come on, baby,” you said, grabbing his bicep and helping him. “Let’s get you in some cozy pyjamas and then in bed.”

Jason nodded, allowing you to help him out of the tub. He wobbled a bit on his feet, clearly still feeling the effects of the alcohol, but he managed to stay upright with your support.

“Cozy pyjamas, huh?” he mumbled dryly as you helped him walk to the bedroom. 

You chuckled softly. “I suppose it would just be a soft shirt and sweatpants.”

“Probably more comfortable, anyway,” he agreed, his arm looped around your shoulders for support. He shuffled to the bed and collapsed onto it with a weary sigh, his body immediately sinking into the mattress. 

You quickly grabbed a pair of grey sweatpants and an old, soft t-shirt, helping him into the clothing. He was practically half-dead at this point, barely able to move on his own. 

Once he was dressed, you helped him under the covers, tucking him in snugly before making your way around to your side of the bed. You settled into bed next to him, the sheets cool against your skin. You could hear Jason’s ragged breathing, a sign of just how tired he was.

Jason grunted in appreciation as you tucked him in, his eyes already drooping shut. He was exhausted, his body desperate for rest.

You reached out, gently stroking his hair, letting your fingers trail through the messy, damp locks. Jason let out a soft moan, his head instinctively tilting towards your touch. He may have been drunk and exhausted, but he still craved your affection.

“I’m right here, baby,” you whispered, your hand continuing to stroke his hair. “Just sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Jason mumbled something incoherent, his words slurred with sleepiness. But you could tell he was comforted by your presence. He shifted closer to you, his head finding a place on your shoulder and a hand on your stomach protectively as he finally succumbed to sleep. 

Reblogs are really, really, really appreciated! Please consider reblogging authors/creators work!

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how about Jason with the prompt "text me when you get home"? the one time they forget/fall asleep before sending the text and Jay loses hid mind. rushes over expecting them to be dead but they passed out on the couch as soon as they got home

really superbly SCRUMPTIOUS prompt Aud. I love protective jaybird 🥰‼️ thanks for sending something in 🫶

jason todd x gn!reader. worried protective snuggly jason. no warnings really, ya boy is just paranoid and madly in love with you 💓

request something! I rb all fics to @sanguinelibrary

****

As soon as you get out of your last class of the day, your phone rings.

You answer it, wedging the phone between your ear and shoulder as you fish in your bag for a couple of bills. You're already walking to the train station.

"Hi, snookie bear," you say into the phone, slightly delirious with hunger and sleep deprivation.

Jason snorts on the other end. "That's a new one. Hey, baby. Y'heading home?"

"Indeed I am."

"Need a ride?"

You wait and listen. Eventually, you hear the sounds of hitting and grunting in the background. You roll your eyes—only Jason would be in the middle of a fight and then ask if you need a ride home.

"No, I'm okay. It's not dark yet. Plus you sound busy."

"I'm never too busy for you," he says immediately. "And it's gonna get dark in an hour. Are you sure—"

"Yes, Jay," you say gently. "I'm sure. Don't worry about me. I'm going straight home."

You're already at the station. There's a good amount of people, students and workers alike. The university is in a relatively okay part of town, especially during the day. You're not worried. It's not like you traipse through Crime Alley on your downtime.

"Okay." Jason takes a deep breath. "Just—just be careful. Text me when you get home."

You note the hint of worry in his tone. Maybe this week has been particularly saturated with crime. Jason tends to get a little overbearing about your safety when he's had a tough week. You know he had go down to Blüdhaven and help his brother—with what specifically, you don't know.

Most of the time, you're sure you don't want to know.

"I always do," you say. The train pulls up to the station. "Ooh, train's here! I'll talk to you later. I'm thinking of ordering takeout. Too tired to cook."

"Okay, sweetheart. Be safe. Love you. Lock your door."

You roll your eyes fondly. "Yes, Jay. Love you too. Bye."

You hang up as you step onto the train. You pull your headphones out of your bag and shut your brain off during the ride. By the time you get off the train, you've lost hope that you'll be doing any work tonight. You're absolutely wiped out after three back-to-back classes.

It's still light when you get home. You lock the door after you get in, the habit ingrained into you, and dump your bag onto the couch.

Takeout is a no-go. You're hungry now and about thirty seconds away from passing out on the couch.

You change into your home clothes, eat a granola bar, and call it a day. You'll eat more later.

You turn off your phone to bar any annoying notifications and fall into bed, eyes closing immediately.

****

The sound of your deadbolt being teared off its chain wakes you up. You flinch and jump awake, trying to blink through sleep. Your mouth is dry from how hard you slept, and your eyesight is slightly blurry from the sudden flood of moisture.

Your bedroom door swings open, and suddenly you're pulled into warm, heavily muscled arms. You hug back on instinct; you'd know the feel of your boyfriend anywhere.

"Jay, h—"

"You didn't text," he says, voice shaking. "You said you would. I was—I thought you were—"

You tense, guilt knocking into you.

"Shit. Jason, I'm so sorry. I meant to, I was just so tired..."

Jason pulls back to look at you, hands still on your shoulders. His expression is stern.

"I'm gonna pick you up from now on. When are your late days?"

"Jay, no, GCU is across town. You can't possibly pick me up three days a week. That's too much! What about patrol?"

"Somebody else is out at this time," he says stonily. "Crime Alley can wait an hour while I get you home."

His eyes blaze green, a side effect of the Pit. You can tell he's putting every effort into keeping a lid on the worry and fear and anger over your silence.

"Jason." You cup his face. "Honey, I'm safe. I'm sorry I didn't text you. I'm sorry I worried you. But your adrenaline is spiked right now, Jay. Everything feels magnified. I don't need to be picked up. I was perfectly safe coming home. Okay?"

He shakes his head, holding your wrists. "Anything could've happened. I was so—fuck, baby, I was so scared. I-I checked the station footage and the traffic cams, and I didn't see you after you cut through the park, and I thought—I was sure you'd—"

Jason pulls your arms around his neck and buries his face into your shoulder. He supports you by the backs of your thighs, tugging you into his lap. Then he clings tight.

"Oh, Jay," you murmur, petting his curls. "I'm alright. This end of Gotham isn't so bad. And I know you'd have found me even if something had happened. But nothing did."

"Can't lose you," he chokes out.

"You won't lose me, honey," you say. "You keep me safe."

He trembles in your embrace. You kiss the shell of his ear and continue to pet his hair.

"Let me pick you up tomorrow, at least," he pleads. "We'll get dumplings at that place you like. You barely ate anything when you came home."

"Okay, Jay," you say, because you know he needs that reassurance. He won't relax without it. "That sounds good."

You keep stroking his hair. "Y'wanna order in now?"

"In a minute."

Jason lays you both down on the bed. He throws a leg over yours and pulls you into his chest. It's now that you see just how much tension is locked in his shoulders. He's exhausted.

"Jus' wanna hold you for a bit," he says, lips resting on your shoulder.

He's drowsy, the adrenaline finally ebbing. You close your eyes and snuggle into his arms.

"You can hold me for as long as you want," you say, threading your fingers with his. "I'm not going anywhere."

you, clever as always (are still dreaming)

zhongli x gn! reader

- drabble; 780 words - fluff & cuddles - slight hurt/comfort - part-dragon zhongli

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a quiet sound from across the room awakens you from your reverie. what could it be..?

[snuggles w/ half-dragon zhongli] 

title from r sound design - flos.

requested by anon.

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Okumaya devam et

Please give me mona from genshin impact

reblog and make a wish! this was removed from tumbrl due to “violating one or more of Tumblr’s Community Guidelines”, but since my wish came true the first time, I’m putting it back. :)

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

A night out in London to celebrate your friend’s upcoming marriage ends with a quick hook-up in a club’s green room. You don’t expect to see your masked man ever again, and you leave it as a one-time thing. Three years later, you’re back in England, and find yourself facing the man you walked away from at that club. He’s running a tattoo parlor just down the street from where you’re staying. Over time, your paths cross and cross again until the two of you are tangled up in a messy web. Will it last? Or will one of you walk away?

Content & Warnings (overall): canon-typical violence, PTSD, canon-typical swearing, suggestive themes, possessive / jealous / obsessive behavior, second chances, grief / mourning, strangers to lovers (graphic chapters will be marked with ** which indicates a Community Label)

Chapters: (ongoing) One // Two ** // Three // Four ** // Five // Six // Seven // Eight ** // Nine // Ten // Eleven ** // Twelve // Thirteen // Fourteen ** // Fifteen ** // Sixteen // Seventeen ** // Eighteen ** // Nineteen // Twenty // Twenty-One // Twenty-Two // Twenty-Three // Twenty-Four // Twenty-Five // Twenty-Six // Twenty-Seven // Twenty-Eight // Twenty-Nine // Thirty

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @coffeecaketornado

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