Im Sorry, But Does Reader Have A Specific Body Type?

“he’s so babygirl”

babe he just killed somebody.

I loved it could you do maybe Edward Nygma, Roman Sionis, or a superman villian next.

maybe! maybe! but i wanna finish my current series and ideas tho!! thanks babes 💕

"Young and Beautiful"

Prologue

ya'll, I cannot sleep with my arm in this stupid cast, so i started rereading "the great Gatsby" (my comfort book) and i got this idea. i know, i know, i have 3 unfinished fics buttttttt i'm injured and this is my blog and i have free will so i'm writing this. This is yandere romantic batboys and bruce x reader. BUT set in the roaring 20's. Send in asks, requests, ideas, and just what you think about this! Likes, comments, reblogs and asks are encouraged and keep me going! Love yall <333. This is written in 1st person, reader is recalling events in her journal. This is a rough draft for the prologue! Sorry if it doesnt make sense, i'm high off pain meds writing this bc i'm BORED.

The first time I saw Jason Todd, he was nothing to me Just another boy in my father’s estate, covered in dirt, hands rough from labor, his bruised knuckles proof of a fight he hadn’t won. His blue eyes were sharp, full of something wild, something untamed, something that made you bristle, the kind of fire you knew to stay away from, even at 12 years old.

The first time I spoke to Jason Todd, two years after I saw him, I thought he was filth.

He was a boy covered in dirt, his hands stained with mud and the smell of horses, his knuckles raw from a fight he clearly hadn’t won. His face was sharp, bruised, skinny and too wild for someone who worked under my father’s name. He was nothing, just another street rat lucky enough to be given work in my father’s stables, another nameless stray that old Mr. Wilkes had dragged in from the gutters of Gotham. He smelled like sweat, hay, and something sharp, something angry.

I was fourteen years old and wore pearls around my throat, a silk dress with delicate lace at the sleeves. My father’s estate stretched over rolling green fields, our mansion standing tall like something out of a dream. My mother’s hands were soft, her perfume sweet, and I had never known hunger or want. My world was a world of glittering lights and expensive champagne, of high society and grand parties, of people who smiled with their teeth but whispered behind painted fans.

Jason Todd did not belong in my world.

Yet, somehow, he slipped in like a stain on silk.

We met on the back steps of the estate, where the stable boys cut through to the gardens. I was waiting for my automobile when he nearly ran into me, boots dragging dust over my polished shoes.

Jason Todd? He was filth beneath my shoes.

Or at least, that’s what I told myself.

Because the first time I met him, he nearly ran into me.

He didn’t bow like other servants did, he didn’t apologize profusely and beg for forgiveness.

He barely even looked at me before muttering, “Watch it,” like I was in his way.

I had never been spoken to like that in my life.

I hated him immediately.

I took a startled step back, wrinkling my nose at the smell of sweat, hay, and horse.

The nerve.

I straightened my back like Daddy told me to when I wanted to look serious and I tilted my chin up as I stared down at him. "Excuse me?"

Jason smirked, slow and lazy, eyes glinting with amusement. "Did I stutter?"

I had never wanted to slap someone so badly.

Instead, I remember turning and walked away, forgetting my plans of going into town, heels clicking sharply against the stone, vowing to never look at him again and to hate him forever, no matter how handsome he was,.

That vow didn’t last long, especially when he took off his shirt.

Jason was everywhere.

I saw him at the stables, his shirtless back slick with sweat, muscles shifting under tanned skin as he worked. I saw him sneaking apples from the kitchen, disappearing into the trees, laughter on his lips. I saw him in the streets, fists flying, always coming back with fresh bruises, always alive in a way no one else was.

And then, you heard about him.

"That stable boy got into another fight," the maids whispered. "Damn near killed the other boy, apparently the other kid got smart about his lady."

At the time, I thought the strange burning feeling in my gut was disgust at even hearing Jason's name. Now I know, what I felt was pure jealousy, not knowing the 'lady' Jason nearly killed a boy over was me.

"He’s trouble," my mother warned when I asked about him at dinner. "Keep away from him, sweetheart."

"He won’t last long here," my mother sighed. "That kind of boy never does, no matter how much of a soft spot your father has for him."

My father pitied Jason, told me I oughta be nicer to him like I am to the other workers (he would regret that statement soon.)

He had no one. No mother, no father, no family, nothing but the clothes on his back and determination. He had what my father called "the look of a man who'd rather die than fail" and my father respected that.

But Jason did last.

I hated him.

Hated the way he smirked at me from across the gardens, like he knew something I didn’t.

I hated the way he never bowed, never apologized, never treated me like the others did.

I hated that when I was alone, when my father’s friends spoke about marrying me off to the sons of their business partners, I thought of Jason Todd instead.

The first conversation I had with Jason Todd was after I had fought with my father.

It was about marriage. About duty. About a boy I didn’t love.

I ran into the garden dramatically ignoring my father's desperate calls, pearls at my throat, tears in my eyes.

And Jason was already there.

Sprawled under an oak tree, cigarette between his lips, watching me like he’d been waiting for this moment all his life.

"You rich girls cry over the dumbest shit," he muttered.

I whipped around. "What did you just say to me?" How dare he speak to me like I was any other girl, like this wasn't my home, like he didn't work for my father.

Jason pushed himself up, boots kicking up dirt as he smirked. "You ever go to bed hungry?"

My breath caught. He had a point, you were privileged.

"Ever steal to survive?" His voice was low, teasing, sharp. "Ever wake up in the morning and wonder if you’ll still have a roof over your head by sundown?"

I didn’t answer, for the first time in years I felt something close to shame.

Jason tilted his head, his eyes gleaming with resentment. "Didn’t think so, princess."

I hated him. He made me feel childish. He humbled me. He burst my perfect bubble.

And I loved him for it.

I loved him for making you feel something real.

And that was the beginning of everything.

I loved Jason Todd.

I loved him when he me you out of the house at midnight and made me ride my horse bareback through the fields.

I loved him when he knocked the rich boy who called me a tease's teeth out.

I loved him when he threw pebbles at my window on the third floor and scaled the walls to my balcony.

I loved him when he kissed me for the first time at 14 under the summer stars, hands gripping my waist, mouth desperate against mine.

"You’re my Jason, my Jaybird," I whispered against his lips. Corny, but nothing felt better to say, especially when I saw his face.

Jason smiled like I had given him the whole damn world.

And he? He was my whole world.

When Jason was seventeen and I was fifteen, he walked into my father’s grand house, dressed in his best suit, nervous but determined and proud, his hands clean for once, his boots polished.

He asked my father for my hand in marriage. He asked my father for my hand and I thought he would say yes. Daddy always thought he was a hard worker, called him a real good sport.

He stood before my father and said, “I love her, sir. I’ll make her happy. Give me a chance. I ain't got much now, but one day I will. I'll give her what she's got and more.”

My father just laughed.

“Boy,” he said, shaking his head, “she’s not meant for men like you.”

Jason left that night, whispering a promise against my skin.

"I’ll come back for you, I'll be great. Be a man like how your daddy wants, rich and proper, he'll have to say yes."

I waited, god knows I did.

I wrote letters to the last address he gave me every single day.

For five years. Till I turned twenty. I never looked at another man, I had my Jason.

I waited for him to reply, fought off suitors and pressure from my mother. I waited for a reply, that he was coming soon, that he missed me.

I waited.

And my Jaybird never came back.

My father loved me.

He regretted turning Jason away five years later, when I still refused to marry. He never forced me to marry, not even when the years passed and my suitors grew frustrated with my refusals.

He saw my misery, my longing and admitted, “I should’ve said yes. I should’ve let you have him.”

He thought my Jason was a passing infatuation, he wondered what people would say about his daughter marrying the stable boy.

He wished he saw my love for Jason sooner.

But love wasn’t enough to keep the debt collectors away.

I knew something was wrong when my father began to look stressed, when my parents began to argue, and when I heard my mother cry herself to sleep after selling her favorite pearls.

My father was going to loose everything all at once.

The steel business wasn't what it used to be.

And then suddenly, Bruce Wayne arrived like a knight in shining armor.

He was older than me, 18 years my senior. Refined, powerful, and dangerously charming.

And most importantly, rich. He was exactly what I needed to stop my family's fall from grace.

Bruce courted me like a gentleman.

He sent roses every morning, took me to the finest restaurants, whispered in my ear about a future where I would never want for anything again.

He was patient.

He never forced me to love him.

He only asked for one thing.

"Let me take care of you."

I kept Bruce waiting for three months. All I could do was think of Jason. I knew he was not returning, that he either was dead or found some other pretty girl to make promises to.

I told myself love was not enough to fill an empty stomach and keep my parents happy like they did for me.

I told myself that Jason Todd was not coming back to save me, yet each morning I woke up waiting for a letter or pebbles thrown at my window.

After four months of courting, I decided.

And at twenty, I became Mrs. Bruce Wayne.

Jason Todd never sent me a single letter, but I still dreamed of my Jaybird even as I looked at the massive ring on my finger.

OKKKKK SO WHAT YA'LL THINK??? CONTINUE OR DELETE??? FLOP OR BOP? SEND IN ASKS!!!! I MISS YALL! THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING ROMANCE W JASON AND BRUCE. I REALLY LIKE THIS AU!!!! WHAT DO YALL THINK IS GONNA HAPPEN? SORRU IF IT SUCKS OR DOESNT MAKE SENSE, I'M SO HIGH BRO.

BE NICE PLEASE, I'M IN PAIN! THIS IS NOT EDITED OR PROOF READ.

when i want fluff/angst fics and all i’m getting is smut

the struggle is real

I am so feRAL FOR IBLD STORY AAAAAAAAA I cannot w a i t for more :3 I am so curious to see if they were actually fooled or if they've known anything about readers ~exploits~.

Amazing work as always from you!

-🔵

THANK YOU 🫶🫶🫶

it seems like they’re fooled for now but nothing stays secret too long in a family of detectives 👀

Your neglected reader story is pulling me through my internship right now (reading breaks are a must /hj)

I'm really excited to read more about Reader's meta abilities and what will happen to Tiffinay >:)

yayyyyy i’m glad!! internships suck lol 😭😭 good luck 💕

Hi! Just wanted to ask if you're experiencing some hate comments lately. Been seeing it a lot. Just wanted to ask if you are ok❤️

awwww thank you my love <3333 you're so sweet actually! and yes i have but im getting over them!

here, waiting for updates on the 999 fanfics I follow without thinking that people have to socialize, study, work, eat, go to the bathroom and sleep.

Some writers: *meticulously plan out every plot point and the tone and meanings before they start writing*

Me: