Am I The Asshole?

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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welcome to remy’s kitchen!

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Appetizers (blurbs, headcanons, metas)

Jason Todd loves looking at you

Thoughts about Catholic!Jason Todd

Jason Todd would kill for you

Thoughts about domesticity with Jason Todd

The secret of you and Dick Grayson

Entrees (full length fics)

kindness you can’t afford (Jason Todd x fem!reader)

darling, won’t you take me home? (Jason Todd x fem!reader)

i love you, i’m sorry (Jason Todd x fem!reader)

turn me into something tragic (Jason Todd x fem!reader)

Desserts (18+ content, MDNI)

Jason Todd is a powerful man (you make him weak)

a love like religion (Jason Todd x fem!reader)

jason todd unique second child privileges

arcade night 🕹️🦇

Prints

Hi again 😊 You suggested i could send another prompt, sooo… maybe you & Jason have been together awhile, and you’re kidnapped by (choose your villain) and Jason is worried and frantic but trying to not show it of course, and negotiating for your safety? Ends up rescuing you of course, in whichever way you prefer, and then they find comfort in each-other 💗

I haven’t had time or energy to work on my WIP lately so this is very lovely and gratifying 😂👌🏻💗

aghh that's the worst! wishing you luck on your wip!! i'm glad you like these <3 requests are open for jason, dick, and MAWS!clark kent btw!

this one is very batfam focused hehehe. ft dramatic ass jason and his surprise kidnapped fiancé lol.

jason todd x gn!reader. tw: violence, kidnapped reader, reader is pushed off a building for a moment but they're okay dw <3, batfam feels, jason being a protective bf, bruce being a GOOD DAD! c:

****

"Actually, if we're being honest, if anyone has the most trauma in this family, it's—"

Batman grunts. "Really, Spoiler, not now."

The comm line crackles as Stephanie sniffs. "Fine. Stay in denial."

"Bats."

Every bat and bird in Gotham goes still.

"Hood?" Barbara asks carefully, already tracking his comm link.

"Oracle," he says, clipped. "I'm gonna get right to it: I need a favor. Can you help? Yes or no."

"Little Wing, where have you been?" Dick asks. "We've all—"

"Shut up, Nightwing," Jason growls. "Either you help me or not. Which is it?"

"We'll help you, Hood," Bruce says, voice washing over Jason like a balm.

Jason takes a deep breath. It's okay. He'll find you. Batman always beats the bad guys.

He fiddles with his jacket zipper. Moments tick by. Dick remains crouched on a rooftop. Damian is similarly poised.

"My..." Jason swallows. "My... fiancé's been taken."

The comm explodes with noise. Jason winces and digs the bud out of his ear for several seconds.

"Fiancé?!"

"You're getting married—"

"When was this—"

"Who are—"

"Enough," Jason growls, finally shoving the bud back into his ear. "I don't have fucking time for this. Yes, I am engaged, and they've been taken. No more questions."

"Tt. You are engaged? Impossible. Batman, clearly someone has hacked the line pretending to be Hood," Damian says, folding his arms.

Jason rolls his eyes. "Believe it or not, demon bird, I found someone crazy enough to marry me."

"Little Wing, I—I'm really proud of—"

"Shut up!" Jason pinches the bridge of his nose. This was a bad idea. You're in trouble, and Jason intends to tear Gotham apart to find you, but involving his family? Has he really stooped so low...

Deep breath. His focus is you. You're the only person that matters.

"Look, I'm telling you because Oracle's tracking me anyway, and B would snoop until he figured out who I'm really looking for, so it's easier to just tell you. But make no mistake: you aren't my family, and you won't see us again after tonight."

Bruce's throat tightens. His cape flutters in the wind.

"Very well," he says after a couple beats. "Last known location?"

"I'm sending you the address now. I've retraced my steps a hundred times though, and I can't—" Jason grits his teeth. He can't tear up or break things, not again. "Fuck. I can't fucking find them, B. I... I don't know if-if maybe I'm too late—"

"You're not," Dick says automatically. "We'll find them, Little Wing. We'll bring them home."

****

Your head is on fire.

It feels like there's a thousand needles pelting your skull. Whatever you were drugged with, it's hard stuff, and it hasn't worn away yet.

You look up; you're gagged and tied to some kind of support beam. As your vision clears, you see that you're in one of the new high rise-in-progress. Only the skeleton of the building has been completed because if Bruce Wayne isn't involved, construction takes forever to complete.

Faintly, you recall Jason mentioning something about a construction company leaving half finished projects across the country and using them as havens for criminal activities.

Yeah. This is not good.

"Where the fuck is he?" The voice echoes across the concrete floor foundation.

"Mike, we sent—"

"I don't give a fuck what you did; obviously, you screwed up! He's not coming!"

You close your eyes, trying not to throw up on your gag. Your head spins when you open your eyes again.

Who's not coming? Your rescuer? Or somebody worse than your kidnappers?

You try to take a deep breath, but your chest tightens instead.

"Fine," Mike barks in the adjacent room. "If that hooded psychopath doesn't show up, we'll just dump this one. That'll send a message. Prepare the explosives."

A door swings open, and you flinch. You cower, shrinking from the figure.

"You better hope he shows," the guy growls, and cocks his gun. "Your boyfriend is the only reason you're still alive. It'll be such fun to watch him fall to his death, don't you think?"

You try not to show your swelling panic. How does he know about you and Jason? And you have to warn him. Explosives. Jason's walking straight into a trap, without backup, because you know he'll be alone. He always works alone.

Mike sneers and waves the gun around.

"Oh, yeah. I know your secrets. In bed with Gotham's biggest crime lord. You must be his favorite. I can see why."

"Mike!" someone shouts. "We got company!"

Mike's eyes blaze cruelly. "Showtime. You're coming with me."

You thrash as hard as you can because if there's one thing Jason taught you, it's to always fight back.

Mike backhands you hard enough to send you sprawling. Your hands are bound, so you can't catch yourself, and you hit your head on the concrete. Blood pools in your gums.

"Try that shit again, bitch," he snarls, and hefts you up.

He drags you up a flight of stairs. Your head throbs, and now your jaw aches. You're too dizzy to try to fight back again.

You end up on the roof, which is a miasma of beams and wooden lattices. Wind cuts through your face, and you close your eyes so they don't water.

"Hood!" Mike crows. "Wonderful of you to join us!"

"Wish I could say the same," Jason says, and your heart leaps at the sound of his voice.

You start to shout through your gag because you have to warn him. It's a trap, he'll kill you both—

Mike wraps his arm around your throat and squeezes. Air stops, and you choke on your cries.

"I'll kill you," Jason snarls, and you know he wants to say more, but he's trying to protect you. "Let them go and maybe I won't break every bone in your body."

"Oh, don't worry. You two will be reunited soon. What is it they say? Love blinds you?"

"Michael Cassidy," a new voice says, deep and deadly. "Let go of the hostage. We can talk this out."

You crack open your eyes. Is that... Batman? And Robin? And... Nightwing? What—

The arm around your throat tightens and you gasp for air as you start to choke for real. Oh God. Batman's going to die because of you.

"You involved Batman?" Mike snarls, now truly irate. You feel yourself being dragged backward, toward the edge. Your stomach rolls in warning.

"Take it easy," Batman says, palms up. "We can work this out."

"You can't play fair?" Mike shouts. "Then neither will I!"

The wood beneath your feet is gone. You're falling.

"No!"

But no sooner than you fall are you caught. Warm arms encircle your waist, and you're jerked to a stop before you can fall more than a few feet.

"I got you, baby, I got you."

Jason is connected to a grapple. At the roof edge is Batman, Nightwing, and Spoiler, all holding the grapple.

You shake your head, screaming against your gag. Bomb. Bomb!

"'S alright, 's alright, sweetheart, I won't drop you."

You scream urgently through your gag, butting your head against his helmet. Jason pulls your gag half free and you choke out the warning.

"B-bomb!"

His grip tightens. "Shit. B, get out of here! Place is rigged to blow!"

The first explosion goes off. Jason meets your gaze. He's terrified, you can tell, but he tries to mask it.

"Let go," he says.

"Wh—"

"He'll catch you," Jason promises. "I trust him."

And then he lets go.

Several more explosions go off. The building begins to crumble. Dust and heat sweep across your face and lodge in your already sore throat. You scream, in the air for a few more seconds.

Then you crash into gray body armor. A cowl, a cape.

"It's alright," Batman gruffly says. "Hold on tight."

Batman swings you both to safety on an adjacent rooftop. You watch him dive back into the flames. It isn't long before Jason swings out of the smoke, then the others. He pulls off his helmet and tosses it to the side, arms open.

You run and bury your face in Jason's neck, clinging to him. He hugs your tightly and rubs your back, saying over and over, I got you.

You sigh and slacken out of exhaustion.

"I've got you, baby," he says, though his voice is wet this time. "You're safe."

Jason checks over your wounds. You see the rage cross his face several times at every bruise and cut on you. He doesn't let go of you even after he's done. He's shaking too, perhaps more than you, as he cuts your binds and completely removes your gag.

The Bats land gracefully behind you. Jason stiffens as they do.

You kiss his jaw. His gaze returns to you.

"You saved me," you say.

"I always will," he says. "Always."

"Are either of you injured?"

Batman suddenly swishes to your side. You blink, startled.

"Nothing serious," you say. Jason grunts unhappily at that. You manage a smile. "Thank you. All of you. Thank you so much."

Jason nods stiffly. "Thanks, Bats."

Nightwing smiles, face soft with affection. "'Course, Hood. And, uh, Hood's fiancé. We're there any time you need us."

"That's right, chum," Batman says. The obvious care in his voice makes you ache.

Jason had called his family. His family with whom he has a plethora of problems. He'd called them for you.

"Jay," you say, voice thick with emotion. He seems to understand instantly.

"I'll always bring you home," he vows, cupping your face. "Whatever it takes."

He pulls you to him like he can't bear to be away from you any longer.

You squeeze his wrists. "I know. It's okay, Jay. I'm okay."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see that the Bats still have not dispersed. Spoiler looks like she's about to melt into a puddle. Nightwing is the same. Even Batman looks a little sentimental.

Robin is the only one scowling, tapping his foot impatiently.

"Hood, are you not going to introduce your fiance-we-just-learned-existed-tonight?" Robin asks, arms folded.

Jason huffs. "Not with those manners, demon brat."

You roll your eyes and extend your hand to Batman. You say your name, smiling.

"It's an honor to meet you, sir," you say.

Batman laughs, and it sounds a little fond. It's also kind of weird to hear Batman laugh. "No sir necessary. It's equally an honor to meet the person my son is marrying."

Jason makes a choked little noise. You beam.

"Well," Batman murmurs. "We'll let you two get home. We'll track down the rest of Michael's thugs—"

"Come to the wedding," Jason blurts.

Batman stills. "Me?" he asks carefully.

"Everybody," Jason says, tugging you into his side. "Uncle Clark, Aunt Diana, Selina, your ten thousand kids, everyone."

He turns to you. "I-I mean, as long as that's okay with you, baby."

"Oh, Jay. It's your family. Of course I want them to come." You lean in to whisper in his ear. "I'm proud of you."

"Little Wing, c'mere!"

Nightwing tackles Jason in a hug, then drags Robin, who protests loudly, in by his cape. Spoiler snaps a picture from the sideline.

"Now that's adorable," she says.

Batman looks at you. He removes his cowl, and you gasp quietly. He smiles, and it makes him look decades younger. You guess he hasn't smiled much since he lost Jason.

"Thank you," he says.

You tilt your head. "For what?"

"For bringing him back to us."

You duck your head. "Oh, Mr. Wayne, that wasn't me—"

"Bruce," he corrects gently. "And it was. You played a bigger part than you know. You saved him. Thank you."

have this thing I wrote in a flash of pure, unadulterated love for Jason that I felt while doing my hair routine after my shower. never needed a fictional guy more in all my life and honestly this may be my personal favorite thing I’ve ever written.

Thinking about domesticity with Jason Todd. Building a home with him, a life. How ever so gradually mine and yours becomes ours.

You’re brushing your teeth one morning and decide to try out his toothpaste, the one he always buys from the bodega down the block owned by the little abuelita that loves him to death. It’s fresh and it’s minty and you swear it leaves your teeth whiter than the brand name stuff you buy, so you let your tube get used up and never buy toothpaste again. Jason, without question, simply starts buying it twice as often as usual.

You’re fresh from the shower together after a night off for both of you. You’re warm and you’re happy and you’re both so in love it almost hurts. You watch enraptured as he towel dries his hair, roughly scrunching the water from his inky curls. You don’t like how he lacks gentleness with himself, so you take the towel from him and gesture for him to lean down. Ever obedient to you, Jason complies and smiles softly as you dry his hair for him. You think suddenly that while his curls are always soft to the touch, they could do with being a bit more defined. They tend to get really frizzy and poofy by the end of the day. So you grab your curl cream and gel and just absentmindedly do your own routine on him. He raises his eyebrow in question only to quickly relent when he realizes it means you’re playing with his hair for longer. Your hunch is right; once his hair dries, his curls are so pretty you think you could get lost in the waves of them. Jason’s just happy cause now his hair smells like you.

The only clothes Jason has that are his now is his Red Hood gear. The rest of his closet has quickly become co-owned by you. His brain never fails to short circuit when you walk out in his hoodies, or his sweatpants, or his t-shirts, or his boxers. There’s not one piece of his civilian clothing that hasn’t been on both of your bodies at this point. Sometimes seeing you in his clothes has Jason blushing and his heart pounding with how much he loves you, how grateful he is to have this life with you. Other times seeing you in his clothes has him calculating the fastest way he can get them all off of you. You’re just disappointed that it can’t go both ways. But, alas, the struggles of having a massive boyfriend are that he’ll never be able to fit in your clothes. Whatever; it still does something for you when he finally wears the old Gotham Knights shirt that you’d stolen for months.

It’s also kind of funny sometimes. You two own a set of old, dark gray towels affectionately labeled “The Blood Towels”. The Blood Towels are only brought out after a really rough patrol or post-showering when you’re on your period. They came about after you’d nearly slipped while soaking wet from how quickly you’d tried to dry off to avoid bleeding on his good, fluffy towels. Jason just looked at you like you were a little ditzy, a flat “Do ya know how many times I’ve bled on these towels?” coming from his mouth. “I don’t care! I still don’t wanna ruin them!” you’d insisted. And thus, The Blood Towels were born.

Your bookshelf is never going to stop growing. You’ve actually had to go to IKEA more than once to get a larger one with how often you and Jay visit the old bookstore two blocks away from your apartment. Neither of you can resist a pretty cover, or a new annotated edition, or, heaven forbid, those rare, expensive first edition copies. At this point you’re not really sure which of the five copies of Pride and Prejudice first belonged to who, but really what does it matter when you’re both reading them anyways? And it’s always funny when you have to drag home a bigger bookshelf. You can never hold your laughter when Jason inevitably shouts “What the fuck! This wouldn’t be so goddamn hard if they actually gave you coherent instructions!” It’s also always nice to drag the old bookshelves to the apartment of the single mom downstairs whose kid loves reading. You both know she can barely afford the second hand books she gets him, so the shelves are happily given. You’re actually thinking of asking Jay if he’s willing to part with one of your first edition copies of Frankenstein for Christmas; the kid would freak.

All of this comes to a head with a cat. A big, fat, black cat that crawls up on your fire escape one night. You’d both been a little distracted–okay, a lot distracted by the feeling of being lost in each other's touch. You’d been making out for over an hour, just relishing in the intimacy of being together. It was definitely going to go somewhere until you heard the caterwauling of an animal outside your window. “The fuck is that?” Jason had asked as he pulled away from kissing bruises into your neck. “Sounds like a cat.” You’d begged, actually begged, Jason to let him stay. The next morning you came home with a grocery bag full of cat toys and bowls while Jason hauled a value-sized 40 pound bag of cat food on his shoulder. Atticus sits with you both while you watch TV now. Atticus still sometimes ruins the mood when he sees Jason sink his teeth into you and immediately swats his dad on the cheek. But Atticus is also undeniably your boy. And whatever, maybe you do start thinking about what Jason would look like with an actual baby in his arms when he’s cradling Atty as he shuffles around your home. But there’s time for that yet. You both know that. You know that beyond anything else, you’ll always have this life, this home together. It’s the best gift either of you have ever been given.

Kageyama’s development

Kageyama at age 15: Hinata is an idiot

Kageyama at age 25: Hinata is my idiot

hi! i was wondering if you could do angst prompt 29 with zhongli? thank you!

Hi so this fic kind of went from fluff to angst and back to fluff. For the first time ever I ended an angsty fic happily. Hope you like it!

Word count: 1165

Rules and masterlist

You let out a hiss of pain, jerking your arm away as Zhongli tightens the bandage wrapped around your arm, amber gaze filled with worry.

“My apologies. I did not mean to cause you more pain,” his amber gaze softens and you shake your head.

“It’s alright,” you can’t help but smile at him, lost in the reflection of the moonlight on the amber pools that are your boyfriend’s eyes. You’re glad you chose to come to Luhua Pool at night, the moon amplifies the glow of his eyes.

His fingers linger on your skin, tips brushing against your palm before almost reluctantly letting you go. You hop right back into the pools of water, running your hand through the cooling liquid and splashing the lotus head growing in the middle.

Zhongli’s gaze lingers on the white bandage around your arm. Humans were fragile, that gash would take at least a few days to heal. An archon on the other hand would have healed such a minor injury in a few seconds. 

Yet, humans were so resilient. He couldn’t understand why, and the question of whether he could ever truly learn to live as a mortal surfaced once again.

Was he good enough for you?

“Are you coming into the water?” you call, breaking his train of thought. 

“I will be right there,” he replies. Rolling up his pants, he carefully steps into the pool, the water lapping above his ankles. You grin, flicking water at him before quickly hiding behind a rock.

“Please do not cut yourself again,” he reminds you worriedly. The rock you were currently hiding behind was the very same one that had cut you.

“I’ll be careful!” you peek out from behind the rock, hoping it would be enough to reassure him. He smiles back, moving over to splash you back. You laugh, scooping up some water and throwing it at your boyfriend.

The move catches your boyfriend off guard and he yelps in shock. Water droplets bead off his hair, dripping onto his clothes and he pushes his damp hair out of his face.

Oh no, he's hotter now.

Red creeps up on your face and you try to avert your gaze, but Zhongli closes the gap and lifts your chin up.

“Are you alright?” his gaze flicks over you, checking for any signs of a fever. He couldn’t have you falling sick under his watch.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” you laugh nervously at how close his face is to yours.

“We should return home,” he frowns, still unsure about whether you had a fever. Without waiting for a reply, he lifts you up as though you weighed no lighter than a feather and carries you back.

His inhumane strength reminds you that he’s simply a retired archon who chose to form a contract of love with you, an average human whose lifespan was nothing but a speck compared to the thousands of years he has lived for.

Who are you next to the God of Dust, Guizhong? Why did he choose you? Compared to his previous lover, you’re nothing, and you know it.

You sigh, leaning against his warm chest as the negative thoughts crowd out every other thought. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, setting you down, “I will make some tea to drink before we sleep, please dry yourself off in the meantime.”

You nod, heading to the bathroom to grab a towel while he heads towards the kitchen. Your thoughts follow you all the way to your bed and you groan into your pillow. 

You hate feeling like this. It felt wrong when he had told you before that he loved you for who you were. Yet you would lapse into cycles such as these and sleep it off.

The weight never goes away.

The bed dips as Zhongli climbs onto it, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Good night,” he murmurs into your ear, his breaths tickling your hair. You simply stare straight at the wall, unable to sleep. Your fingers curl into the sheets as you try to hold back the tears. Why couldn’t you just accept the love you were given?

Little did you know he felt the same way.

Zhongli watches the rise and fall of your shoulders and tucks your hair behind your ears. 

How did he ever end up with someone as understanding as you? You chose to spend your life with him, someone shouldering the burden of thousands of years of memories instead of a man who could understand you far better as a mortal. 

The two of you are so mismatched that he has half a mind to ask if you want to break up with him.

“You deserve better,” the words tumble out of his mouth and suddenly he can’t stop the cascade of thoughts.

“I am unable to provide you with experiences a mortal lover can, and instead of enjoying your mortal life, you spend it teaching me what a mortal life is like. You should not be with me, I cannot give you what you want,” tears slide down his face as he tries to muffle his sobs. He shouldn’t you wake you up.

You immediately roll around, slightly panicked and gently wipe his tears away, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“You’re wrong. I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you. You’re an archon who has seen so much, and yet you choose to live your life with a simple average human,” you take a deep breath to steady yourself.

“I know I’m nothing compared to Guizhong, I can’t fight, I don't know so much, heck I can’t even defend myself from a rock! I don’t deserve an archon as a lover. Even a retired one,” you laugh, blinking away the tears that have started to form.

He frowns and pulls you into a tight hug, careful not to squeeze you too tightly.

“Do not say that about yourself. You have taught me so much, much more than you know, and I am eternally grateful to you for that,” he buries his face into your hair, breathing in your scent.

“Most of all, you are not Guizhong. Do not compare yourself to her.”

“Double negative makes a positive,” you blurt out before flushing in embarrassment. You did not mean to say that out loud.

“I...am afraid I do not understand,” Zhongli blinks at you, confused.

“I meant that since you were being self-deprecating and I was also self-deprecating, which is a negative thing to do, it results in both of us deserving each other, which is a positive thing. Or something like that,” you shift awkwardly. 

The joke is now ruined after the explanation, there is no salvaging your pride.

To your surprise, he lets out a chuckle, “I see. I suppose it makes sense.”

He runs his fingers through your hair, humming softly as you press against him, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

“Good night, my love.”

—DOUBT [ alhaitham x reader ]

doubt— what a confusing emotion.

alhaitham x f!reader | wc: 1.8k+

warnings: angsty on alhaitham’s end but overall pretty fluffy, idk what part of my brain this came from, part of a series but can be read as a standalone!

Alhaitham very rarely feels unsure of himself.

With everything he does, he calculates it carefully, weighing the pros and cons, contemplating if the risk is worth it, and finding which action is the most appropriate— he’s consistent with the way he acts and is confident with the measures he takes. All he needs is his brain; if he can logically use the process of elimination, he can logically assess the best course of action for any situation.

Except for when it comes to you.

He walks back from his washroom to the main dining area, only to find you chatting up a storm with Kaveh; you had offered to walk him home from work since the two of you had gotten off at the same time, and he excused himself to freshen up— he assumes that Kaveh got home from his workout just in time to find you at the table.

“Haitham,” You beam at him, waving at him to come over, and he can physically feel his heart soften, “You didn’t tell me that Kaveh was your roommate!”

“It’s not really something I like to tell people.” He mutters, and Kaveh shoots him an offended look before turning back to smile at you. From his angle, he looks like a two-faced weasel. Alhaitham sits down at the table, making a point to sit next to you instead of his roomate.

“He acts like I wanted to be seen here either,” Kaveh grumbles without malice, “Should've told me he had someone over!”

“Kaveh was just telling me about his studies around Gurabad’s Ruin,” you grin at the man sitting next to you, “Kshahrewar sounds so different from Haravatat.”

“In a bad way, I assume.”

“You’re just pissed that Haravatat is just as boring as you are,” Kaveh glares at him, and his eyes flit to you, “Y’know, it’s never too late to switch Darshans! You’d fit right in.”

“I think I’d rather die than go back to study at the Academy,” You raise your hands in innocence, a nervous chuckle playing on your face, “I did my due time.”

“You’re always welcome to join me!” Alhaitham clenches his hand, he swears Kaveh side-eyes him with a smirk on his face and he feels something bubble inside his chest, the bastard is doing this on purpose— “There are tons of runes down there, you’d love it!”

“I would love to, but Gurabad’s Ruin is way too far away,” You shudder, your legs ache just thinking about it, “The trek through the sand sounds like a nightmare.”

“It's also dangerous, stop being so irresponsible, Kaveh.” Alhaitham cuts in rather irritably, “Not everyone has a Vision, you have to think about the rest of society too, the world doesn’t revolve around you and your architecture projects.”

He pauses, feeling the unsettling silence befall the table. Your body is turned towards him, your eyes wide in both wonder and concern— Kaveh has the gall to laugh as if Alhaitham just said the funniest thing in the world, “Who pissed in your cereal, Haitham?” He makes sure to enunciate his name, “Didn’t know Gurabad’s Ruin was a sensitive subject, my bad.”

Alhaitham bites the inside of his cheek to not say anything he know he’ll regret with you there, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. “I should go,” he gets up, the chair squeaking as it scrapes against his floor before his eyes flicker to yours, “Have fun, you two.”

He storms out of his house a hurry, feeling a wave of nausea wrack through his body as he slams the door and makes his way down to the pavement that lines the exterior. His heart clenches when he pauses, turning around against his better judgement— Kaveh always complained that his choice in furniture and decor is ugly, was he right? What would you prefer? He takes a few steps back, his eyes wandering the outside of his home (Could it use flowers? The hanging ones or the ones planted in the ground?) before his front door clicks open and you rush out of his house. You squeak when you realize he's right there, slowing your velocity a little too abruptly, tripping over your robes before you steady yourself right in front of him.

“Hey,” you manage a small smile that clashes your worried expression, “What happened in there? Is everything okay?”

Alhaitham's mind hurts, the question that's been burning in his mind searing fire into his skull, he has to take a deep breath to think clearly.

“I asked you before, why do you like me?”

Your smile freezes, you never thought that question would be the one to come up.

“…Because you’re smart?” You mumble unsurely, your hand fidgeting with your robes. Just as he had asked before, you answered, hadn't you?

“So is the rest of Sumeru.”

“…You’re pretty.”

“That doesn’t really say much, does it? What, am I funny to you too? Is it just the “handsome, funny, and smart” qualities that do it for you?”

“Alhaitham.” You warn him sharply, and he flinches despite how much he wants not to.

“…I just need to know,” he closes his eyes to deal with the ache he feels in both his heart and head, “Rationally, what it is that makes you have romantic feelings for me.”

It was a thought that consumed his mind ever since he and you had gotten involved in that matter, and he feels as if it's eating him alive, tearing into his brain matter. It's not like he's wrong (he knows he's not, not when he's spent so many sleepless nights thinking about it), you really could've chosen anyone your heart desired and they'd be bound to fall for you.

You make enough money on your own (not that you'd ever be the type of person to be after his Mora), your status in the Akademiya is high enough that being in a romantic relationship with him wouldn't raise it all that much, it's not like he's an extremely kind person like Tighnari, he's not humorous like Cyno (at least Cyno tries), and, as much as he hates to admit it, he's not as academically gifted as Kaveh. Honestly and rationally, a small part of him thinks you'd be better off with Kaveh, he's far more outgoing than Alhaitham is, his genius is unparalleled, the two of you have been friends since you were students, you—

“Are you jealous?” Your question is blunt, and Alhaitham can't help but admire you more, even in his distressed state.

He likes this about your relationship, you rarely ever hold back what you're thinking even if it might be against your better interest— it helps him, he thinks, it helps him understand how he's feeling, it helps him understand how you're feeling, surfacing those hidden emotions and social cues he can somehow never seem to get.

“Maybe.” He admits, his eyes shifting to the concrete. He's not sure whether it's jealousy or insecurity, most likely a mix of both, but they're rather similar in his mind, meshing together into doubt.

Doubt— what a confusing emotion. It's a small seed before his mind brushes past it, and he can't help but nurture and grow it, just like all of his other thoughts. Ugly and childish emotions aren't above him, and he's only human afterall, he knows he can't be expected to not be above it despite how often he tries, and yet, it's so incredibly disappointing when he lets it slip through.

“I like you because you're Alhaitham,” you reply with the same amount of confidence you've had this entire time, which is very little, “I'm not sure what to say.”

He gets it, he really does. He likes you romantically the same way, but the difference is that you're you, and he's just him.

“...I think the thing that caught my attention was your lack of ambition.” You admit, in hopes that it'll lift his perpetually unsatisfied expression, “I like people with a lack of ambition.”

It's Alhaitham’s turn to be caught off guard now, his mind wandering to all sorts of places with the new piece of information you so kindly fed him. What did you mean by that?

“Hey, don't be so sullen,” you tease him, mimicking the words he told you a few weeks ago, “Shouldn't you just be happy that we're together like this? You don't have to be a researcher all the time, you can be human too.”

“Researchers are human.” He huffs, one hand reaching to brush his hair from his forehead.

“You sure don't act like it.”

The mood finally lightens, and you step forward, wrapping your arms around his torso and squeezing him gently. He’s about as stiff as a board, and you giggle. “Hug me back, Haitham,” you lean your head on his chest, “You'll feel better, trust me.”

He gingerly follows your order, one arm wrapping around your upper back and the other near your shoulder.

"Just so you know," you close your eyes, "I'd never go for someone who insults Haravatat. In his neverending quest to piss you off, he forgot that Haravatat is my Darshan too."

"Calling me boring is fine but calling Haravatat boring isn't?"

"The difference is that you're actually boring."

He sighs while you laugh, burying your nose into his chest. The sun is low in the sky, yet, he doesn't feel cold.

“Why are you attracted to those without ambition?” He can't help but ask, it's odd, especially for someone of your stature, wouldn't you like someone that shares the same passion as you?

“Sumeru is a dangerous place.” Your voice comes out softer, and he takes into account the recent events with the Fatui— “Powerful people with that sense of ambition are what make it all that more terrifying.”

He thinks back to the betrayal that Khajeh and his actions caused to the entire Darshan of Haravatat, the shock it must’ve been to those who were unaware of the corruption of their sages, and by extension, the government that they not not only part of, but were also upholding. A part of him irrationally regrets being in the heat of the action with Azar and the Traveller instead of being with you, but he supposes the way you sink against his body means that he’s made up for it.

Touching you doesn’t send electric sparks up his spine anymore, no, it pulsates heat and warmth through his entire body, and he pulls you closer to him. His head rests on yours and he lets out a huff of contentment, closing his eyes— it feels far more intimate than anything he’s ever done before, but he feels like he’s never been uncomfortable with you— strange and foreign, maybe, but never uncomfortable.

“Kaveh is staring at us through the doorway,” he mutters lowly as a not-so-sneaky Kaveh ducks behind the frame, “Would you like to go back?”

“Kaveh will be fine,” you smile impishly, “Besides, you’re the only one who can hug me like this, wouldn’t you like to show him that? Just to put your mind to ease?”

Alhaitham doesn’t feel that doubt that plagued his mind anymore, and he feels like he’s breathing in fresh air for the first time. A smile makes it's way onto his face as he realizes that he doesn't care what Kaveh thinks anymore, that your relationship is perfectly stable, and that the front of his house is fine the way it is. He doesn’t mind letting you think the seed of doubt is still there, though, not when your body is willing to mold against him so perfectly.

“Yes, yes I would.”

“he’s breathing in fresh air for the first time” and he’s just sniffing y/n’s perfume like a mad lad 😔 reader's line about ambition is based off of heongyeon from mr. queen!

ALSO good news i just got a computer after being without one for months and i’m typing so fast so we’re def hitting that one oneshot a week goal thank god

You guys do not appreciate Gaz enough so I’m here to sell him to you

this shit is important so yall better read

I truly don’t understand the lack of Gaz love -

ok well

I do at some level

I think the argument usually levied against his character id that he’s boring

but beautifully stated by tumblr user mockerycrow in their character analysis of him

CHARACTERS DO NOT HAVE TO HAVE A TRAGIC BACKSTORY TO BE INTERESTING CHARACTERS

press keep reading to fall in love with Gaz

Who is Gaz?

I’m going to start out with who Gaz is as a character

morality

Gaz is someone who has a strong sense of morality and struggles with the balance between doing the right thing and doing the morally right thing, there’s this debate between long-term morality and situational morality that Gaz struggles with

look im maybe not the most linguistically talented person on earth so im just gonna throw in a few quotes which i think gives Gaz

Gaz is someone who admist chaos and war is trying his best, trying his best to be a good person, to be reliable and to do the right thing

if thays not lovable idk what is

relationship to price

ok so i think this aspect of Gaz’s character is what people tend to focus on

and as much as the omg price’s son shit is cute i think he’s become a vehicle for people to emphasise price’s daddy factor (which like dont get me wrong keep up the good work)

but i think theres so much more to that

i forgot who wrote this but someone said something about Gaz trying to follow in impossibly large footsteps and i think thats so accurate

going back to Gaz’s struggle with morality there’s so much untapped potential in the idea that his idol, may not be an amazing person, having to come to grips with the idea that Price, his role model can look at a woman and child as interrogation leverage is something that i think people need to look into more

OK so now

Untapped Potential

so here are somethings which i

idk if this is like the correct phrasing

headcannon? idk i just think these are parts of Gaz’s character which could be rlly interesting to explore

ahem

yes Gaz is a good guy, but that doesn’t make him passive Gaz has shown moments of anger, like in the interrogation with the butcher when he lunges at him or when him and price first meet

i think the fact that Gaz is so calm and collected but has these moments are cracks in the facade he creates

i believe personally he has a lot of repressed anger whether it be at the world, at himself, at his captain hes an angry dude hes just better at keeping it under wraps

and i know we don’t really have many details on his backstory but cmon there’s no way u sign up for a job like this and don’t have any issues whatsoever

i think this quote is so good for this because he’s harnessed his anger, it’s what makes him good at his job, a knife, a weapon

i think another interesting concept for Gaz is guilt

the fact that he cares about whats right and wrong how does he feel going to sleep at night? do these things haunt him? is he irredeemable?

i think its like that one quote “the dog that weeps after it kills is no better than the dog that doesn’t. My guilt does not purify me.”

Final Thoughts

anyways guys thanks for coming to my ted talk

i know this was really messy but i just want to encourage some Gaz love because i think he’s a really interesting complex character who we just need to dig a little deeper into

i hope this incites some more gaz love

THANK YOU 😳