#Jason is on the couch with a broken leg reading

[puppetmaster13u]

Mini Prompt

Bruce, concerned: Where are you going?

Baby Tim: To get ice cream or commit a felony, I’ll decide on the way there

Jason, very proud: Have fun!

[morverenmaybewrites]

Once they are in a relationship, do you think Jason would be more comfortable sleeping in a bed with reader or alone? I could imagine either for various reasons

I think for a long time, Jason would be more comfortable sleeping alone, all the while desperately wanting to physically sleep together.

At any stage in the relationship, but especially in its early stages, Jason would be deeply insecure about how his trauma and his work could affect his partner.

He'd come home at odd hours: at dawn, just before the sun rose, perhaps midday after a particularly long case, reeking of blood and gunpowder. And he'd find himself moving as quietly as he could in his own home, doing his best not to disturb you. He'd probably just collapse on the couch than risk waking you.

Then, there were the nightmares, the ones that would have him wake up with a scream still lodged in his throat, the ones that would have him rising from the bed on shaking legs, so that he could vomit in the bathroom sink.

The ones that he would do anything to hide from you.

Because while he trusts you, there is a part of him—the part that had once been Robin, the part that had been left alone to die in the dark—that is terrified you will leave when you find out just how broken he is.

I think for the most part, he'll want to sleep alone, even when he needs the comfort.

There might be days when you catch him off-guard, though. Perhaps after a particularly rough case, one that has him stumbling through the doors of your shared home, already half-asleep with exhaustion. Perhaps he'll find you reading a book in a patch of sunlight by the window. Perhaps you had just finished baking, and the house smells like coffee and freshly-risen dough.

And for a second he'll think that he doesn't want to be alone.

"Busy?" he asks in a voice so ragged with exhaustion that it doesn't even sound like him.

When you shake your head, he'll find himself sitting right next to you on the couch, still reeking of blood and gunpowder.

When you try to ask about the case, he briefly considers lying.

But when he looks at you, he finds that he doesn't want to lie. Because even through the thick leather of his gloves, your hands feel warm against his. Because you look beautiful in the honeyed light.

Because, he thinks, that maybe you will not leave him alone in the dark.

"Can I stay here?" he asks.

"Jason," you say. "this is your home, too."

Home, he thinks.

He hasn't had that since Wayne Manor burned down.

This time, he does not move quietly as he removes his helmet, his gloves. They hit the carpeted floor with a muffled thump.

This time, he does not move away.

Instead, he lays his head on your lap, and lets himself melt against the warmth of your skin. He watches the sun dance across the ceiling of the apartment, and he inhales the scent of coffee and freshly-risen dough and the sweet scent of you.

He feels your hand gently stroking his hair and he thinks: yes, this is home.

This time when he sleeps, he does not dream.

[bruciemilf]

There's something deeply touching about Jason knowing he'll never be the kid Bruce saved again, but still maintaining some quirks, mannerisms, habits, pieces of young Jason Todd. They're small but cut deep.

Jason, when he allows himself to stay at the manor as a tiny indulgence, still acts like there's a barrier of lasers protecting Alfred's cookie jar, just so he and Dick would have an excuse to compare leaps.

He's still waiting for the lights to fall asleep so he could visit the library and get angry at Tim, or Bruce, or both, twins in audacity, for dig earing the pages they knew he'd read.

Of course Bruce finds him because he always looks for him, ridiculously fluffy pink robe that Selina bought him sagging on him.

He ignores the ball of sadness exploding in his stomach as he realizes Bruce is the one looking up at him now. It feels like a robbery, premeditated and calculated, " Jaylad, you have to nap."

" Bruce, I am a grown ass man, you cannot fucking tell me to NAP--"

There's an unspoken type of authority that surrounds gentle parents. Is Bruce a gentle parent? Well. He doesn’t need to hit Jason to get what he wants, that's for sure, " Excuse me?"

"...Just one more page?"

Bruce is also very weak for them, thought. "..Fine. don't tell Alfred."

When Dick proudly shows off his patrol record for the week, all preppy and shiny besides Bruce at the kitchen table, Jason hears it all the way from the couch.

Damian is a very sore loser when it comes to Mario Kart, he learned, " Todd! TODD! Come back here and taste DEFEAT! FIGHT ME LIKE A WOMAN, COWARD!"

" So yeah, 40 arrests are pretty good, I'd say,--"

" 40? That's adorable, I got 70. On a broken leg."

Bruce, suddenly spooked, turns to him, " You had your leg broken on patrol?!"

" A broken leg? Awwww. Killer Crock almost bit my face off, but hey. Nice of you to try."

"Waylon bit you?!"

" At least I'm not a COP!"

" YOU'RE STILL A COP?!"

" I'm working on it, okay?!"

But the biggest thing? Jason's so unflinchingly clingy on Bruce; When they first meet this 'Justice League' Batman joined, Jason requested to be there. A robin caricature, but he doesn't trust any of them.

Aside from Diana. Diana's always the exceptions.

" This is Superman, " Bruce may think that little blush goes unnoticed, but it certainly doesn't. " And this is my ba-- This is Red Hood. I trust him with my life."

Don't cry don't cry don't cry Jason chants in his head.

Superman extends his hand and a honey sunshine smile, " Red Hood?! Oh, I've heard so much about you. We have to work together sometime. Share stories about this one here."

He heard about the guy's X Ray vision. He hopes that if he does take a peek, he sees the sinister pull of grin on his lips, all teeth and no niceness, " I'm more of a hugger."

" Oh. Uh... Sure. I love hugs."

Jason makes sure to whisper, " He doesn't kill but I do," before pulling away. Then he turns to Bruce, going from standing at his full height to relaxing a little bit,

" I want bat burgers on the way."

Bruce hums and signals for him to lean down to get his head petted. Jason does. Even if he's embarassed.

[101maverick]

hey i saw your requests are open and i was wondering if maybe you could write smth hurt/comfort with jason please? like they had a big fight and then they make up after something happens🙌🏻

A/n: okok srry if it took me a few days but school and other projects are kicking my butt, hope you enjoy!! I decided to use your request to study Jason from a more ak! Point of view if that makes sense? I haven’t consumed the media but i’ve read some really beautiful works with him and hope it makes him justice :)

Word count: 1206 words

Execution At Sundown

Jason was at your place, sitting on the side of the couch with your tv remote by his side, cup of soda in his hand.

He still hadn’t shown you his face even after months of dating, and even though it stung you understood that it was a huge show of trust on his part, so if he was content sipping his soda from a straw that went under his mask you wouldn’t say anything about it and keep your feelings to yourself.

Everything had been going fine, you had just been hanging out while watching a movie.

It all hit the fan when you decided to go get another soda, rising up from the couch and padding down the hallway to the kitchen to fetch the drink.

After retrieving your drink you made your way back, and as the couch came into view you saw that Jason was now engrossed with something on his phone.

You didn’t think too much about it, just eyed the now empty soda resting in his left hand. On a whim, you walked up to his side of the couch and leaned over, going to grab his empty cup to replenish it.

Before you could do much more than make contact with the clothed skin of Jason’s shoulder though you found yourself being slammed back, loosing your balance and falling on your behind.

——————————

Jason reacted out of instinct.

One second he was relatively relaxed on his girlfriend’s couch, looking at a map of his territory for anything suspicious that might be going on, and the next there was a pressure on his shoulder, somebody leaning in and- “Why don’t you scream a bit for me, Todd?” and then there was pain-

He grabbed the body pressing in on him and pushed, slamming his attacker back and watching, half-standing and with his torso turned in a way that pulled at the knotted skin marring every inch of him, and even if the assailant was on the ground they still hurt him, that damned clown still dug his claws in and he always screamed but nobody heard him and-

Oh. It’s you.

It’s you, who had wormed his way into his heart in a matter of months.

It’s you, who had caressed the mangled skin of his hands and said “That’s okay” in response to the proof of him having been broken and put together crooked and wrong. As if it really was.

It’s you, legs sprawled on the floor with a bewildered expression on your face, wide eyes staring up at him in shock.

Jason stares back at you, his own features turned to stone under the mask as he feels his throat close up.

He had hurt you. He had thrown you to the ground. Guess the apple never falls far from the tree then, uh? Guess he was just like Willis after all, smacking around anyone without the ability to control his feelings. A rabid animal.

An animal. A pet. That’s what the Joker used to call him. What the Joker still calls him every day, in his wretched mind. A mindless thing, twisted and contorted to be ready to bend at his master’s will, and the fact he didn’t have one here anymore didn’t mean he was suddenly upgraded to ‘human’, did it? He was still incapable of controlling himself, succumbing to the rage just like Willis had to the bottle. Not even capable of recognising his girlfriend the only person who had accepted his crooked form and chipped edges, throwing her around simply because even gentle and casual touches were ruined for him by that forsaken clown-

“Jace?”

The world comes back into focus, his eyes zero in on the spot of the wall he had been staring at in his haze and then shift down to you, now seated more comfortably on the ground. You haven’t moved, you haven’t come closer to him.

You’re scared of him.

Jason feels his throat constrict, and he punches the words out around the lump forming in his throat. “I- I didn’t- you were- sorry- I-”

Gosh he’s such a mess, can’t even explain to you how pathetic he is, how he still lets a fucking clown torture him with his mere shadow, and now you will realise the honeyed touches are not made for him, not anymore, maybe they never were, or else someone would’ve come-

Now you will realise that all those jagged edges are places you could cut yourself on. Now you will realise a rabid dog like him just needs to be put down for good.

He stutters out a last sentence for you, spits it out on your clean parquet, and even that feels too much like dirtying your sanctuary for his liking. “I- sorry, I’ll- I’ll go-” and he’s not even finishing his sentence before he’s stalking towards your apartment’s door, steps as sure as he can make them as he walks away from the only hands who had held him oh so gently, only like Catherine ever had, his mom, and he wills his legs to keep moving or else he won’t make it out of here for good-

“Don’t leave, please.”

Your voice is quiet, quiet as it breaks his heart and his resolve.

Because Jason has never been strong, and the little crack he can hear coming from his heart hurts but so does the knowledge he’s too weak to keep going the last few steps to your door, the few steps that’ll lead him back to how it was before and you back to a life of safety, free of the burden that is Jason Todd.

He turns around. You’re leaning in the doorway to the living room, staring at him on the other side of the hallway.

Your stance is relaxed. You aren’t holding yourself like you’re hurt. Your eyes are wide, and sad, but they’re not wary.

With his attention on you, you speak again. Your voice is soft, and now also kinda trembly. “I know I don’t know even the start of the story, but I know you have one and it’s the reason things like this sometimes happen.” Your eyes stare into the white lenses of the mask, desperately searching for his gaze under it. “I’m not gonna say it’s okay, because it isn’t.”

There it is. The proof he fucked it up, like is his design.

“It’s not okay,” you continue, startling him. He was getting lost again. He waits for the axe. “because something or someone hurt you, and you still suffer from it.”

He looks at you. Jason looks in your eyes, and gets the feeling you know he’s returning your gaze.

“I want to help you, Jace. Any way I can. Any way you let me. Because I know that when things aren’t okay, sometimes all you need is someone there with you to help you make it so.”

Your voice was sure through it all, but now it falters a bit. “So, so if you want, I could be by your side. If that’s how you’ll let me help. So, so don’t leave.”

His eyes don’t wander away from you.

And as he gazes into your eyes, glinting with the light from the tv bathing your side in neons, he knows that he never could.

The axe doesn’t fall.

[makethatelevenrings]

well since you've got me thinkin' of the bats again,

what do you think their Oh Shit moment would be? Like that single moment where they realise This Is It? Cuz I can't stop thinking about it. Like imagine just sitting in the living room with Jason on a lazy day and you turn and he's kinda just staring at you with this lovesick look and you ask whats up and he just shakes his head and looks away smiling like an idiot cuz ah shit, this is the life he wants.

Or or or you're out grocery shopping or smth with Bruce and it kinda hits him somewhere through the point of entering the store and picking up 5 different cereal boxes that he genuinely wants this forever and ever

and ahhhhh like this could go so angsty but also so sweet?

ANYWAY I REALLY LIKE YOUR WRITING IT MAKES ME HAPPY

<3

Ok ok I thought about this the entire drive home!!!!

Bruce - the two of you are visiting an orphanage that’s Wayne Enterprises is interested in funding (in reality, he’s investigating them for embezzling funds and child abuse). You came as Wayne’s dazzling arm piece to draw more press, but he knew you were much more than tabloid fodder. You couldn’t care less about listening to the director drone on and on about how much he was doing (read: not doing) and when a small hand tugs on the hem of your pants, you immediately kneel on the dirt stained floor and give the child your full, undivided attention. You nod along, ask questions, and make the child feel as though they’re special. You show them that someone cares. Bruce watches this with his heart pounding in his chest. He remembers a time when a young orphan was ignored by the world unless they were able to manipulate him and use him for their own agenda, to make themselves look good. He realizes with a jolt that you see him. You see the orphan boy in the alley, the broken man in the cape, and the actor in his suit. You see all of him and you give him your whole attention. Oh.

Dick - For you, it’s just an offhanded comment made as the two of you walk through the crowded streets of Bludhaven. “There’s a halal market on the next street. Can we stop and grab Damian some gulab jamun and namoura? He’s been stressing over his grades recently and I know it’s not much, but hopefully it’ll cheer him up.” A bolt of warmth strikes through his chest as he realizes that you’ve memorized Damian’s favorite desserts. You researched halal foods and the local markets. You checked in on Damian, listened to his frustrations, and read his tells better than anyone. He recalls how you’ve made these passing remarks about all of his siblings. How long have you taken care of them in this subtle, gentle way of yours? He laces his fingers with yours, lays a kiss to your temple, and lets you lead the way to the market.

Jason - The sun that slips through the linen curtains Alfred hung up one day bathes Jason in a delicate glow. He reclines on the couch, your head on his chest and legs tangled together, with a book in his hand. You’re half asleep but he whispers the words he reads regardless. How long has it been since he felt this relaxed? Your soft breaths release in little puffs that tickle the skin of his wrist, but he refuses to move. He doesn’t want to wake you up. He wants to lay in this position for the rest of his life. He wants to be with you for the rest of time, until the scythe of death comes calling for him once more, and he places himself between you and the Grim Reaper.

[love-bugsy]

trouble | jason todd

the worst thing about love

you’re just trying to get through your surgical residency, but this masked vigilante keeps showing up half-dead on your fire escape and reminding you of your dead best friend. oh well, at least he's cute.

one | two | three | series masterlist

tw: no editing, allusions to character death, (haphazard) depictions of grief, mentions of blood and injuries, swearing, completely ooc Jason bc he’s just my lil guy, medical terminology learned from greys anatomy lol

only jerks steal other people’s writing and mine isn’t even that good so no reposts

The paint on your door is chipping, some of it flaking off when you shove it in that particular way to unstick the lock, dropping your keys on the side table in your entryway. Your eyes flick down to your watch, bleary eyes reading that you’ll only get a solid four hours of sleep tonight - by fault of a sadistic attending with a mountain of charts. Still half-asleep, you lock your door, habitually double-checking the deadbolt. Good ol’ Gotham. Taking a single step into your apartment, you freeze. Faint sound echoes from the living room; your TV is on.

Cold fear spills down your spine - you aren’t under any delusions that your neighbourhood is safe, but people here usually keep to themselves. You pull your baseball bat out of the umbrella stand by the door, clammy palms gripping the barrel too tightly. Wielding the bat haphazardly, you creep into your living room.

Old cartoon reruns play tinnily on your shitty TV, the nostalgia doing nothing to calm the prickling anxiety that crawls up the sides of your neck. Rounding the corner fully, you brace yourself for a murderous intruder to leap out at you; heartbeat in your throat.

Instead, your anxious heaving is broken by a gruff mumble from a lump taking up half of your couch. Fucking Red Hood. It’s the third time this month. Shoulders sagging, you pinch the bridge of your nose, squeezing your eyes shut like he’ll disappear when you’re not looking. You swear that mask glints at you mockingly when you look up again. You set the bat down, pulling off your coat and unwinding the maroon scarf around your neck. You’re being influenced, birdie.

You approach the couch, stepping around muddy boot prints to turn the television off. You drop your bag against the coffee table and slot yourself between Red Hood’s wide-spread legs. He’s slumped upright in the middle of your couch, one arm slung out over the back; scuffed leather jacket chucked over the other side. Something stutters in your chest at the sight of him taking up so much space in your home; the evidence of his presence.

You think he’s unconscious at first, but there’s a tenseness to his shoulders still; a rigidity you’ve seen lax when he was bleeding on your living room floor. The sight of him so relaxed spurs you into a bit of a panic - you doubt he would ever be so unguarded unless he had a serious injury.

Reaching out, you feel around his torso, frowning at the rough patch of dried blood seeping from his left shoulder. You unbuckle his makeshift pauldron and hunt around in your work bag for a pair of scissors to cut away his sleeve. You’re leaning over him with the scissors when he huffs, head shifting in his sleep. You flinch - nearly nicking him - and draw back holding the scissors a safe distance away.

“Shit!” You gasp out, as his mask lifts to meet your eyes. He lets out a gravelly laugh at your shock and you frown, taking your scissors to his sleeve again.

“Not gonna buy me dinner first?” He rasps drowsily. You can hear the shit-eating grin he’s sporting under the mask and you shoot him a dry look - fighting a smile as you gently pull his sleeve away. Pursing your lips at the dried blood caking his shoulder, you press around to find the wound, pausing when he draws in a sharp breath. You raise an incredulous brow.

“Is this a bullet wound?” You don’t know how he manages to look sheepish from behind the mask. He winces when you start cleaning away blood with an alcohol wipe.

“You should… shit- you should see the other guy.” You purse your lips a little, focused on cleaning the wound. Occasionally, he huffs when you get a little too close to his injury. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from scolding him for getting shot in the first place. You should examine him impartially - years of training scream that one oversight could be fatal - instead, you slip up into something instinctual; something gentle.

“Jesus, Red… this is… how the hell have you been keeping yourself alive?” For some reason this yanks a dry, barking laugh from him. That damn familiar laugh. You just can’t place it.

“You’d be surprised.” You give him as flat a look as you can manage, absently gnawing on your bottom lip as you examine his injuries. He flattens his head against the back of your couch, staring stoically up at the ceiling as you prod around the bullet wound. You yank your phone out of your pocket, aiming the weak flashlight at his shoulder. Shit. Bullet’s still in there.

He lifts his head when you turn your back to him, putting your phone down to grab what you need. You shoot him an apologetic look, “Got a bullet in there, Red.” He grunts, shifting so his shoulder is angled towards you. You pull on a pair of rubber gloves, dousing the palms in Betadine. “This is gonna hurt.” He huffs out an amused breath.

“Always does.” You lay a repentant hand on his other shoulder before digging your fingers into his wound, trying to find the shell. His breathing starts to get more laboured, his head lolling back a little. Wincing in his stead, you pull out what’s left of the bullet, wiping it off to see if there’s shrapnel still in his shoulder.

“You’re lucky, this looks intact.” You feel the way he looks at you, biting your bottom lip to hold in a laugh. He is less amused.

“Lucky, huh?” He says, gaze locked on the bullet as you hand it back to him - clean of his blood. Taking it in his good hand, he fiddles with it as you dig around for bandages in your first aid kit; you’re starting to run out. You find the bandages at the same time as you find your response; part fond, part disciplinary.

“Just be glad you don’t need stitches.” His head shifts slightly and you get the distinct feeling he’s trying to read you. He’s silent for a long while after, watching you bandage his injury quietly.

Not for the first time, you’re unsettled by the blank slate of his mask; you don’t like that you can’t figure him out. His anonymity makes the silence unnerving.

“So… you gonna tell me how you got shot?” He just looks at you, mask hiding any indication of his response.

“My self-preservation skills aren’t all that honed.” You can’t help the snort that escapes you at that, covering your mouth with both hands in embarrassment. You have to look away at how intensely he’s staring at you. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you go back to securing his bandages.

“I noticed.” You mean for it to sound dry but you can’t fight the little smile that betrays you. You’re getting too comfortable with him, forgetting that he’s a killer, forgetting that he’s a criminal, forgetting that he isn’t him. Maybe that’s why you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Reminds me of someone I used to know.” Stupid.

“Never heard that one before. Maybe you should introduce us.” His tone is joking, but you tense up all the same.

“No.” You say, tightly, averting your eyes. It’s cold, and mean. You grit your teeth to stop the flood of memories. Red doesn’t notice.

“Ashamed of me are ya?” He teases, voice rumbling out of his modulator. The sound is somehow twisted, grating against your ears. Unknowingly wrenching up a buried grief into the pit of your stomach; kicking dirt in a minefield.

“He’s dead.” You marvel at how cold you sound, how detached, when your chest is tight with a phantom pain. He shifts up immediately, sobering in an instant. He reaches out a gloved hand, gently pulling your wrist from where you’d unconsciously crossed your arms. He rubs an apologetic circle into your pulse point.

“Shit, sorry.” You look away, though you know it’s unfair. He winces. “I didn’t- I’m…”

“... sorry.” You nearly drop the tray of dirty dishes you're carrying at the sight of Jason in your door; hand cradling his profusely bleeding nose. Shoving the tray onto the closest table, you sit him down at a chair behind the counter and wander off to find a clean towel. Wetting it under the sink, you sigh, nudging his hand away to tenderly daub at the blood under his nose.

The silence stretches, broken only by Jason’s foot tapping on the floor as he fidgets in the chair. He winces when you bring your hand up to check his nose and you snap.

“If this was one of those Castor boys again, I’m gonna kill ‘em.” That pulls a little smile out of him, imagining you up against those 6 foot ogres. You don’t think even the Gotham in you could give you a fighting chance with those two.

“S’okay. Can handle it.” Little crease between his brows. You sigh fondly, running a curious finger over the tiny scar on his cheekbone. If you were paying a little more attention, you might have noticed the red flush crawling up his neck at your touch.

“I know that. Doesn’t mean you should.”

“Sorry I… it just makes me so angry- I,” he huffs in a tight breath, like he can’t get enough air in, “I can’t stop myself.” You frown, torn between being angry at him or with him.

“I don’t want you to apologise, blue, just,” you draw in a pensive breath, brows furrowed, “They got you bad this time.”

“They were jumping a kid, ‘dee, couldn’t stand by and watch.” His hands are as restless as his bouncing leg and you feel a twinge of endearment and jealousy all at once. He’s always moving, so much that sometimes you feel like you’re at a standstill; only a matter of time before he leaves you behind - grit in your teeth and grit in your heart. But today, he’s your best friend and he could’ve gone anywhere, but he’s here. You wrinkle your nose, worry creasing your forehead.

“You and your hero complex.” You hand him the bloody cloth to fiddle with, before gingerly checking his nose again - barely ghosting your fingertips over his nose. You didn’t know - back then - what being careful meant - to him, to you - you just knew you meant it. Your eyes are locked on his nose when you speak again, “S’gonna get you killed one day.”

He narrows his eyes at you, head tilted to the side - a language you aren’t fluent in yet. He’s serious for a long moment, watching you dart your eyes away and begin to pick at the skin peeling off your fingers. His brows loosen.

“Not when I got you lookin’ out for me, birdie.” He shoots you a toothy grin - god, you love his grin. All his teeth bared like he never learned how to smile properly. You always want to make him smile like that. Still, you can’t help the way your brows knot up, jaw tight as you watch a trickle of blood drip from his nose.

“I’m tired of watching you get hurt, Jay.” The lump in your throat makes the words come out thick; the fear makes them small. Despite your best efforts to hide them, stubborn tears pool on your lashes as you blink furiously. Jason looks devastated.

“Shit.” He brings his free hand up to take your wrist, rubbing comforting circles against your pulse. (An effort to stop your tears that only makes them fall harder.) “I’m… I’m not used to people worrying about me. I’m sorry. Fuck, please don’t cry, I hate it when ya cry.”

You let out a watery laugh, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. The little voice that tells you you’re going to lose him one day. You must look utterly pathetic when you meet his gaze because he pulls you into a tight hug, tucking your head into his shoulder as you cry.

Distantly you recognise the uncomfortable position you’re folded in, nearly bent in half to press your face into his neck, his shoulders pushing against yours. You don’t know how long the hug lasts - a lifetime in a minute and a half - but when you finally pull back, eyes puffy and red, Jason hangs on to your wrist, thumb brushing the hollow where your hand meets your wrist.

“I got your shirt all wet,” you say, laughing self consciously, “I’m sorry.” Jason just shakes his head, grinning sheepishly.

“I got blood on yours.” You nearly get whiplash from how fast your head turns to your shoulder, which now sports a deep maroon splotch. Gross, nose blood. He laughs heartily at your expression, “Guess we’re even then, birdie?” You roll your eyes, pulling your hand from his grip to cross your arms over your chest, raising a brow when he pouts in return.

His eyes dart between your unamused expression and the clock behind your head, smile faltering a little. He has to go. You hold out a hand for the cloth and he jumps up - his constant energy is a marvel - dropping the bloodied tea towel in your open palm. He runs his hand under his nose, smearing a last drop of blood over his upper lip.

You stop him as he’s about to leave, running the clean corner of the cloth gently over his mouth to wipe away the mark. He looks straight into your worried gaze, bringing up a finger to smooth the crease between your brows. “Hey, birdie, no wrinkles over me.” Your mouth twists.

“S’you and me, ‘dee, promise. Not gonna go anywhere else.” Jason holds out his hand, pinky outstretched. He cocks his head with that stupid, glorious grin of his. “Come on, don’t leave me hanging.” You roll your eyes, wrapping his finger in yours.

“You and me, blue.”

“Doc?” You jolt back into the present, hands frozen over the clip you’re securing Red’s bandage with. His hand is still wrapped carefully around your wrist and you yank it back - face heating - letting his hand fall forlornly by his side.

“Shit, sorry, I- sorry.” You finish your, somewhat shoddy, job, chucking your supplies back into your bag haphazardly.

“You okay over there?” With your back to him, you hum a less than convincing agreement that he seems to believe. You hear him rustling about behind while you zip up your bag, and assume he’s getting ready to sneak out your window, leaving you with only traces of him until he fucks up on patrol again.

Instead, when you turn around, he’s holding out a scratched up burner phone, mask tilted. You shoot him a confused look, taking the phone into your hands.

“What… am I doing with this?” He laughs, and you fight the heat rising in your cheeks at the sound.

“You know, for someone so smart, you’re pretty dense sometimes.” Now your face really does feel hot, brows furrowing at his chastisement. He chuckles at your quiet indignation, pushing the phone closer to you, “Your number, pretty girl, so you don’t get scared half to death next time I show up.” You fumble the phone, glancing between him and it as you enter your phone number. You tuck your hair behind your ear as you hand it back to him, crossing your arms again.

“Next time, huh?” You think he might be smiling under the mask, though you’d never be able to tell.

“Not getting rid of me that easily, doc.” He gets up, dusting off invisible dirt from his pants. Absently, you follow him over to your window, sweeping up his leather jacket before he can. When you hand it to him, your hands brush - a cliche jolt sparking up your arm when you touch him. He looks away as he takes it.

Red ducks out of your apartment and onto the fire escape, putting the jacket on fluidly and adjusting his mask. He gives you a little mock salute and you shake your head, biting back a smile.

“Don’t text me unless it’s an emergency.” You say, not meaning it at all.

“Swear on m’life.” He returns, fingers crossed behind his back. He turns after a last, charged stare, grasping the railing with his good arm. Flustered, you scramble, not one to let him have the last word.

You lean out of your window as he swings, one-armed (christ almighty, your knees might be weak), down onto the fire escape below. “You can use my door, you know!”

He meets your stare from below, as you hang half out of your apartment. He belts out a chesty laugh, “Now where’s the fun in that?” He swings over the fire escape, and disappears into the night.

Oh yeah, you’re in trouble.

some “emergency” texts:

y’all I wish I had an excuse but the truth is just that I have adhd and I got really into pjo haha, uh so here’s chapter 3. it’s not great but it is done so I hope you guys enjoy it, gonna make less promises about my fucked up schedule now lol.

with love, bugsy :)

[jasntodds]

Migraines | J.T.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Request: Anon - “Hey I get pretty bad migraines, and i was going the injury prompt list and #4 and #6 kind of remind me of how my lovely s/o takes care of me when i have an episode. I’d love to see those prompts with jason todd! Prompts: (from here) #4: Trying to hide your injury from them, but failing miserably once you faint right in front of them #6: Staying the night in case they need your help, being asked to sleep on the bed instead of the couch/floor

Summary: You have a migraine and try to hide it from Jason until you manage to faint in front of him, sending him into a worrying spin over you

Warnings: Description of migraines, friends to lovers, mentions of being nauseous from the migraine, fluff, hurt/comfort (kind of)

Words: 4,595

A/n: I am both a big sucker for injury prompts and Jason Todd so here we are lol I also get migraines so anon, I’m sorry you’re dealing with them 😭 I did friends to lovers just because I thought it fit a little better with the second prompt!! If you wanna be added to my tag list, click the link below, send me an ask, or comment!! You can also follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary​​ !! If you like this, please reblog it and/or talk to me about it!!

masterlist | request info | tag list

It starts as a mild headache. It’s just an ache in the beginning of your head at first that’s a bit annoying but nothing horrible. However, with your history of migraines, you take your precautions to prevent it from turning into a migraine. The thing about the migraines is they tend to send you out of commission until they go away. You always play it out to be just a mild headache or that you’re just tired and take a nap. Jason doesn’t actually know how bad your headaches (migraines) actually are. He’s Robin! Jason could have ten broken bones and still go out swinging. You get a migraine and want to explode.

After about two hours though, the mild headache has turned into a full-blown migraine. It’s throbbing in the front of your head. Your stomach is nauseous with the pain and every bit of light in the room makes you cringe. You’re in the library of Wayne Manor with Jason, sitting with him while the two of you read and reading is making it worse. You swear you’ve been on the same page for twenty minutes, unable of focus your eyes or your attention on the book. Everything hurts, even moving your eyes is agonizing.

“You good?” Jason looks over at you, noticing you haven’t turned a page in a while.

“Oh, yeah.” Your voice is quiet as you give him a fake smile and a very subtle reassuring nod, almost wincing with the movement.

“You don’t look good.” Jason sees the grimace across your face. “Seriously,” He puts his finger in the book to hold the page while he closes it. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just tired.” You shrug it off. “I’m just gonna take a nap.” You smile sweetly but faintly.

“You’re a bad fucking liar.” Jason chuckles softly as you get off the couch. “I know something’s wrong, can’t hide it from me, babe.” There’s a cheeky grin tugging at his lips when you turn to face him, knowing he’s trying to get the real answer out of you by being cheeky.

“Jay, I’m fine.” You insist, giving him a toothy grin as if that’s enough to convince him but the window is right behind Jason and you moved too quickly.

Everything is spinning and throbbing and pounding and your vision is blurring in and out. Everything is agonizing and all you want to do is curl into a ball and melt away. Your heart is starting to race while your legs are starting to feel weak and shaky.

“Y/n?” Jason calls, the grin completely vanishing as he watches the look at your face turn distant and shallow just as your legs give out.

Jason scrambles to his feet, catching your head just before you hit the ground. Panic courses through Jason’s blood as he holds your head in his hands, unsure of what just happened. You’ve never fainted before. He knew something was wrong but something wrong enough to make you faint? He never would have guessed and he’s kicking himself for not realizing that it was something that bad. He should known better, paid closer attention maybe. Something. But, then your eyes open slowly, you barely coming to with your head still pounding like a kickdrum at a rock concert.

“Hey, holy shit, are you okay?” Jason’s words are slurred as he looks at you but you can’t make them out. Everything sounds mixed together, hazy even. “Y/n?” Jason asks and as your vision starts to steady slightly, you can make out his brown eyes laced in worry, forehead wrinkled.

The jig is up.

“Migraine.” You mutter out.

Jason lets out a sigh, wondering why you didn’t just tell him. You both make fun of each other with little stuff. It’s all fun and games though, Jason tends to take some low blows when he gets mad but it’s never anything too horrible and you know where not to cross a line. Had you just told him you had a migraine, he wouldn’t have made a joke or yelled to make it worse. He would have just let you rest. Jason knows his constant training even with an injury isn’t normal, most people know when to tap out. He doesn’t want you to end up like him, unable to take a break even from just reading a book with him.

“Come on.” Jason slides his hands out from under your head as you sit up. “Get your ass to bed.” Jason stands up, offering both of his hands to you to help you up.

You take his hands gingerly in yours, carefully and slowly getting up, trying not to move too much or too fast. “I’ll be fine.” You brush it off once you’re on your feet.

You don’t want to bother him with it. Migraines are debilitating but it’s still a headache. It just sounds so pitiful in a way. You have to nap in the middle of the day over a headache. Jason shouldn’t be bothered with it or you. You’ll take a nap and maybe you’ll feel better later. 

“Yeah, then ya fucking fainted.” Jason scoffs, not realizing he was still holding your hands.

“Mhm.” You hum, your mouth dry from the nausea of the throbbing headache.

“I’ll walk you.” He offers, realizing your hands are soft in his.

His heart swells with the idea but he lets go and opts to move to your side, resting a hand on the small of your back. He gestures for you to start walking, him walking right beside you and not moving his hand just making sure you don’t fall or faint again.

If your head wasn’t a throbbing and pulsating mess right now, you’d have some comment about how nice he’s being. Jason can be a little less than nice at times with people, but he does have these really nice moments with you ever since you followed him to Gotham. It’s….domestic in a way. At Titans Tower, there was this ruggedness to everything and this hardness that almost surrounded him, a bitterness that ate at his bones. But, when he’s here, he’s kinder. He’s still rough around the edges, that’s just Jason but he’s kinder and you’d be lying if you said you don’t like the kinder side of him that mixes with his sarcasm. And maybe if your head wasn’t causing such agonizing pain, you’d notice him looking more at you instead of where you were walking, his eyes laced with worry. It’s just a headache he tells himself, but he worries anyway because it’s you.

Jason gets you to bed, you swearing you can get into bed just fine but he doesn’t take that for an answers. You fainted in front of him and now he’s determined to not let you do anything until you’re feeling better. You’re his best friend and while it’s a migraine, he doesn’t want you to hurt yourself more or prolong the pain. So, he pulls the blankets over you and takes your phone from you before putting it on silent and putting it on your nightstand.

“Did you need anything?” He asks, trying to hide his concern from his voice.

“No,” You say softly, comfortable in your bed now and glad to be able to sleep. “Thanks.”

Jason nods, sticking his hands in his pockets. “Text me if you need something, alright? Don’t go getting up and making shit worse.” Jason offers an awkward laugh.

“Yes, sir.” You mutter, giving him a soft smile.

“I mean it.” He warns as he starts walking towards the door.

“Thanks, Jay.” Your voice is a little louder this time so you know he’ll hear you.

Jason smiles softly. “Yeah.” He nods at you before leaving your room, shutting the door slowly and quietly to allow you to sleep.

Jason leaves you alone for a few hours, casually passing by your room every fifteen minutes just in case. Of course, Jason doesn’t realize he’s passing by so often. He’ll go into one of the living areas and then conveniently remember he needed something from his room which is next to yours. Or he’ll go back to the library only to realize he needed something from the kitchen which means he has to pass by your room. He plays this little game for a few hours, getting an eyebrow raise from Bruce every time Jason passes him in a different room. After the fifth time, Bruce finally just asked what was going on. Jason tried to brush it off with “Forgot something again.” Bruce didn’t press but figured it had something to do with you. Jason isn’t the forgetful type and it made Bruce chuckle softly to himself.

But, after that few hours, Jason got a bit stir-crazy worrying about you. You’re his main form of entertainment here. You’re both either training (to Bruce’s dismay) or joking with each other or reading. You show him a lot of movies and TV shows he’s missed. You’re always together and now he’s just bored and worried. So, he makes his way to your room around 10pm with a glass of water and he knocks softly, hoping it wasn’t too loud but that you heard him. You don’t answer though and Jason feels a bit more worried, so he opens the door just slightly to look inside.

You’re asleep in the same exact position he left you in. Your room is completely dark, the currents drawn and the TV off. But, Jason shines just enough light into your room to stir you awake. Your eyes peek open, catching a blurry glimpse of him in your doorframe, able to make out his dark hair.

“Jay?” You question, barely noticing the throbbing of your head slightly better than it was a few hours ago.

“Sorry.” Jason mumbles. “Wanted to make sure you didn’t die or some shit.” He brushes the worry from his words, trying to act casual.

“I’m alive.” Your voice is weak, stinging Jason’s heart.

Jason takes a step in the room, leaving the door cracked so he can actually see you. “Feeling any better?” He asks.

“Migraine is still kicking.” The sarcasm in your voice is even weak and Jason feels so bad for you.

And he’s still worried because you don’t normally nap this long. It makes him wonder if you nap just long enough to ease some of the migraine but still keep up appearances. But now he does know, so maybe your migraines do last this long after all this time and he feels horrible.

“Well,” Jason walks over, resting the water on your nightstand which you definitely take note of. Was that the excuse he was going to use if you were awake? Bringing you a glass of water? That’s kind of sweet. He sticks his hands in his pockets. “I’m going to get my stuff then.” He holds his head up high, chest puffing out slightly. “Gotta make you sure you don’t croak in your sleep or something.” Jason nods his head, giving you this half-cocked grin. “Or,” Jason clears his throat. “Just in case you need something.”

“In case I need something?” You wanna make fun of him so bad, you love making fun of him. It’s how you two show affection but, you’re actually curious where this is going. The migraine might still be kicking, but the curiosity has now taken over.

“Yeah,” He shrugs casually. “I don’t want you to suffer longer so if you need something, you won’t have to deal with it.” He shifts his weight from his toes to heels.

“Awww.” You manage the quip with a smile.

“Shut the fuck up.” Jason chuckles softly, dodging his eyes from you for a second. “So, I’m staying in here tonight and you’re just gonna have to suck it up.”

“Fine.” You try to sound stern but there’s a smile playing at your lips and your chest bursts of warmth with having Jason stay in your room.

That’s something neither of you do. You are friends and the flirting sometimes gets a bit…too flirty. There’s a difference between two friends flirting and joking around and whatever the hell the two of you do. You always get just a little too close to Jason and Jason always comes up with a quip that’s said a little too seriously. There is this invisible line neither of you have ever crossed because it overcomplicates a fun situation. Jason doesn’t think you’re into him that way and you think if you were to ever tell Jason, he’d laugh or make it weird. But, maybe this is a good opportunity to try something a little less flirty and fun and try something a little more casual and soft.

When Jason comes back, he’s in grey joggers and a loose black t-shirt. He has a pillow with a beige pleated pillowcase under one arm and a matching blanket draped over the other arm. He said he’d go get his stuff but you were certain he was just being dramatic. Jason has always had a flare for the dramatics. And a part of you thought for sure Jason was just going to slide into bed with you with a cheeky grin because that’s just Jason. But, he doesn’t. He puts his pillow on the floor beside your side of the bed. You eye him with suspicion, not moving your head and you want to laugh but you know it’ll just hurt.

“What’re you doing?” You ask once Jason sits on the floor.

He looks at you with, what you swear seems to be innocence. “Sleeping on the floor?” He questions back, not sure why you’re asking.

You let out a huff, smiling down at him. “Can you just sleep in the bed with me, please?” You ask and at this point, you don’t even want to deny the fact having him next to you would at least bring you comfort. You always sit close to him because it’s comforting but having him sleeping next to you now with a throbbing migraine? That might be the only thing you actually want, besides the pain to stop.

Jason gains this smirk and devious look in his eyes. “Oh, want me in the bed, huh?”

“Shut up.” You groan. “I said please.” You pout a lip at him and Jason swears he thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world.

“Since you asked so nicely, babe.” He emphasizes the word and your stomach spins with butterflies.

Jason walks to the other side of the bed and gently flips the blankets up to get underneath them. He tries to play this off in the cool, calm, and collected way he tries to play everything like this, getting a little too close to you. His heart is thundering in his chest and he tells himself that you’re just being nice because he’s being nice. This is a nice, friendly thing to do to make sure you’re okay and he doesn’t wake up with back pain in the morning. This is a casual, friendly thing you’re doing.

You roll over slowly, careful not to move your head too much. The migraine is just barely starting to subside but you know if you move too much or try to stay awake, it will come back with a vengeance. So, you remain careful as you move closer to Jason. He stretches his arm behind your head almost instinctively, careful not to hit to your head with the movement. Your head lays on his chest and you have to admit, he is so warm.

Jason brings his arm around you, pulling you closer to him and this is kind of nice. He wishes your head wasn’t in pain so maybe this would be something a little more or something would come out of it. But, he’s so sure that you’re only willing to cuddle with him like this because you’re in pain and for a reason he doesn’t fully understand, you find comfort in him being here. Your head is aching but this is the most comfortable you’ve been in forever. Jason is comfortable.

“Thanks for checking on me.” You whisper to him, your eyes closed as you listen to his heart still thundering in his chest. “And the water.”

A bashful smile comes to his lips. “Yeah,” You feel him huff under you. “‘Course.”

“Why is your heart beating so fast?” You ask.

Jason pauses, his eyes widening. How is he somehow at a loss for words? He’s never at a loss for words but how’s he supposed to answer that without admitting anything? Your question and his running through about it just made his heart beat faster.

“Are you...nervous?” A gentle chuckle leaves your lips, you wincing with the throbbing.

“Fuck off, no I’m not nervous.” Jason groans.

“Okay, Jason.” A snicker comes from you. “Seriously, thank you for staying.” Your voice is quiet and coated in a honey-like sincerity.

Jason sucks in a breath and honesty isn’t exactly his thing. Not that he lies, he just doesn’t say how he feels but you’re kind of really important to him.

“Yeah, well, I’d kind of doing anything for your ass.” Jason chuckles.

“I know.” You smile to yourself. You know he would. He’s a bit rough around the edges and he has his issues that he’s kind of trying to deal with, but you know he’d do anything for you. “I’d do anything for you, too.” You admit, just sensing the deadpan expression he’s giving you. But before he can turn it into some type of flirty, taunting banter, you continue. “Goodnight, Jay.”

“Night, Y/n.” Jason lets out a sigh, rubbing your back lightly.

You fall asleep first, the migraine fully wearing you out and Jason offers the perfect amount of comfort. He’s soft and there’s a firmness of his chest that isn’t hard or too stiff. It’s just firm enough to offer support and just the right amount of soft. You think he makes a better pillow than your own (which is insane since Bruce did not skimp on the pillows). Jason, on the other hand, he stays awake a little longer.

It’s been harder for him to fall asleep ever since Deathstroke. But, tonight, that’s not where his head is focused and he has to admit, it’s a bit cathartic. He’s so careful not to move or tense up with you so peacefully asleep under him. He doesn’t want to disturb you because of your migraine and he doesn’t want to disturb you and make you move away from him. You keep him calm and turn his brain off for a little bit. He always chalked it up to you being friends. You’re one of the only people who ever really listened to him anyway and that always helped a bit but, he’s looking down at you with this gentle smile and that’s his real ‘oh shit’ moment. 

It’s not just flirting for fun or the joking banter, but a genuine liking between him and you. Deep inside, he knew why he was worried about you and why his heart was beating so fast. Deep down he knew why he didn’t risk immediately getting into bed with you, because he didn’t want to scare you off and risk you turning him away from the room altogether. But, right now with the dark room and you asleep on his chest, finding comfort in him, he knows and he knows he won’t be able to ignore the warmth in the pit of his stomach. So, he closes his eyes and settles with the thought of maybe. With the thought of maybe something happening between the two of you and the thought of maybe this becoming your thing because that’s where he finds comfort. In the thought of maybe.

The next morning comes around and you wake up first, bright and early. Your head is a bit groggy from the migraine but you’re finally away from the pain. As long as you get some food and water, it should stay away. You’re in such a state of relief the migraine has finally released you from it’s grip, you almost don’t realize your head is still on Jason’s chest. It only takes less a minute for you to realize it but it’s long enough to surprise you.

You sit up slightly, looking at him and for once, Jason Todd looks peaceful. There’s a blooming happiness that pulls at your heart as you watch him. He’s had it rough and he never really looks at peace, not fully but he does right now and you adore him so much. You don’t think he sees how happy he makes you and you wish he did. Jason Todd also deserves to live in peace and happiness with love and acceptance and that’s all you ever really want for him.

“Hey.” You whisper, poking his cheek softly. “Jaaaayyyyyy.” You hold out his name, poking his cheek again as he scrunches his face and you swear it’s the cutest thing in the world.

“What?” He mumbles, voice drenched in sleep, almost incoherent. 

“You’re kind of cute when you’re sleeping.” You keep your voice a whisper and it’s the most graceful alarm Jason has ever had. Alarm even seems like too harsh of a word to call you.

He peaks an eye open at you, managing this expression of a cross between annoyance and teasing. “Just my face, babe.” He has this tired smirk that gets your stomach in a twist.

“Eh.” You shrug at him while he opens his other eye. “‘S alright, I guess.” You tease him and the annoyance evaporates from his expression.

“How long’ve you been up?” Jason asks, enjoying the lively expression back on your face.

You look like the sun now which he thinks is a cheesy thought but it’s true. Last night, you looked like a rain cloud and not even the cool ones that are large and fluffy, consuming the whole sky in lumps of deep greys and blues. No, last night you just looked like the rain smog around Gotham, gloomy and tired.

“Just a few minutes.” You answer casually before running a hand through his hair. It’s wild this morning, curly strands standing up and scattered about the pillow.

“What’re you doing?” Jason laughs, eyes looking up at your arm and back you.

“Messing with your hair, it’s shockingly soft.”

“Shockingly?” Jason chortles. “The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know.” You laugh back, pulling your hand away and resting it on his chest. “Thought it would be stringy.”

Jason’s brows furrows, the smile still tugging at his lips. “Yeah, okay, perfect sense.” He jokes with you and there’s something about how this feels right now. It’s not the tension-filled flirting the two of you do. There’s something so domestic about it that he really likes. “You hungry?”

“Starving.” Your eyes widen dramatically.

“Alright, what do ya want?” Jason wiggles his brows at you. “I’ll cook.”

Your brows shoot up with surprise. Jason has cooked for you a handful of times, but it’s not that he really offers. He just kind of makes something and then tells you to try it. “What’re you up to, Todd?” Your eyes narrow at him playfully.

Jason shakes his head, smile turning down and then twitching back up. “Just being nice.”

“Well, I won’t turn down food.” You laugh softly before telling him one of your favorite breakfast foods.

“You got it.” Jason nods at you while you get off of him so he can get off the bed.

“Are you gonna bring it to me?” You pout up at him as he looks down at you. He thinks you look pitiful in the cutest way possible.

He shakes his head and he wants to argue it, tease you but he can’t. “Fine, but you owe me.” Jason has a one-sided grin as he points a finger at you jokingly.

“I’ll take that.” You beam a smile up at him, shocked he actually said he’d bring it to you.

Jason tosses the idea around in his head and you’re clearly feeling better, so why not? “How about a date then?” The words are much smoother than the frantic thoughts in his head. He’s a bit panicked that he just asked that, thinking maybe you’d actually say no or laugh. He’d be devastated if you did and then probably hide out in the Batcave for the rest of the day.

The smile falls from your face for a second, unsure if he’s joking or not. He doesn’t look like he’s joking. He actually looks pretty serious despite the devious grin on his face. There’s a pleading in his eyes that tells you he’s completely serious and you just can’t believe it. You thought Jason just liked flirting and maybe he does, but you thought that’s all it was. It was something you just accepted after a few months at Titans Tower. You just accepted that’s all it would ever be but now? It seems as if it’s real.

“Seriously?” You ask, your voice not giving Jason any indication on how you feel about it.

He shrugs a shoulder, trying his best to play it off. “Yeah, why not?”

The smile comes back to your face and you can feel the heat coming to your cheeks. “Yeah, okay. When do you wanna go?”

Jason’s heart is exploding into fireworks across his chest. You actually said yes. But, he didn’t think he’d get this far into the conversation so now he’s just stuck making it up on the fly. “Tomorrow?” Jason asks, figuring tomorrow would be better in case you need today to recover from the migraine.

“It’s a date.” You’re beaming up at him and the giddiness consumes your bones like a kid in a candy story for the first time.

“Awesome.” Jason smiles widely, looking to the floor and back to you, a few strands of his hair bouncing onto his forehead. “I’ll go make your breakfast and bring it to you then.”

“Thank you, Jay.” You give him a toothy smile. “You’re gonna eat with me right?”

“I guess.” Jason wrinkles his nose, his cheeks starting to ache from the smile.

“Okay, well hurry up, I wanna hear about this date you have planned.” You tease him and watch him stiffen just slightly.

“Just for that,” Jason says as he heads for the door. “I’ll take my sweet ass time.”

“Or, you could hurry up and come back to bed.” You taunt him, brushing your hand over his side of the bed and you can see his jaw clench.

“Fuck, yeah, alright.” Jason groans, knowing he’s lost and you fall into a fit of laughter, a sound Jason adores. “I’ll be right back.” Jason says before quickly leaving the room, leaving your door open just a bit.

You fall back into the pillows, ecstatic that you have a date with your best friend and he’s making you breakfast. A part of you finds it funny that this whole thing is because you fainted over a migraine.

masterlist | request info | tag list

Tag list: @fairyofshampoo // @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai  // @makaelaseresin​

[lambsouvlaki]

For the Hell of it - Robin

Characters: jason todd x fem!oc

Rating and warnings: G, no warnings.

Word count: 1,626

Summary: A peaceful evening is interrupted by a visitor through time.

Masterlist

------

They were lounging together in Jason’s apartment, Downton Abbey played in the background while they both focused on their own things. 

She was sitting up on the couch, half heartedly reading a new fantasy book. Jason was lying with his head on her lap, on leg swinging over the end while he blithely poked through the GCPD’s servers. A half empty board of snacks sat on the coffee table next to two wine glasses. 

She carded her fingers through his curls, scratching lightly at his scalp. He occasionally moved his head against her hand seeking out scratches in different spots like an overly large cat. She wasn’t sure if he knew he was doing it but she sure as hell wasn’t going to call it out. 

Her eyes were puzzling through a sentence with too many invented fantasy words, when something in the air shifted. She looked up. Jason arched his neck to look around. Her ears popped.

Then Jason was suddenly gone and the head on her lap was significantly smaller. 

She blinked down at a kid in a domino mask. He wore a bright red tunic, a yellow cape bunched up on the couch, bare legs and bright green knee pads and little pixie boots. 

He looked about as startled as her.

On the TV Maggie Smith gasped in dignified shock.

He pulled away all at once, backflipping off the coffee table. He landed in a cautious stance in the middle of the room. She half stood, holding up wary hands. 

“Jay?” she asked, tentative. 

“I’m Robin! Who are you?”

“I’m Andy. Where did you come from, Robin?”

He looked around, taking in their surroundings with no overt reaction. She studied him. His face was round with baby fat, but that was about the only fat he had on him. He had familiar curls on his head, sans a white streak at the front. 

“I was fighting a magic guy,” he said. He pursed his lips. “He didn’t really know what he was doing. Lots of purple light flying everywhere.” 

“Did you get hit? Is that why you swapped places with Jason? Oh.” She dropped her hands. “That wizard’s day just took a very bad turn.”

“Jason?” he asked, carefully casual. 

“Black curly hair, blue eyes, about twice your size. Turns twenty four in a week.”

“Huh.”

He looked at her. She looked at him. 

“Do you want me to tell you the year?” she offered. 

“Na, I got it, thanks.”

“What happens now? Is there… protocol for this?” 

He opened his mouth, then closed it again with a snap. “Excuse me, miss,” he said, and then trotted off to an empty corner for the illusion of privacy, yellow cape flapping behind him. 

What a polite young man, she thought, failing to mentally connect him to Jason in any way. She paused the episode and sank back onto the couch. 

Jason had never actually told her he used to be Robin. She suspected, but not enough to ask. It was one of those things about him that everyone seemingly knew and never talked about. She knew he’d died at some point in his teens, and then stopped being dead, carving his life into a distinct before and after. 

Seeing the ‘before’ was surreal and heartbreaking. 

He was calling someone, and who that was wasn’t a great mystery. His grin was bright and infectious, and utterly foreign to her. His nose was crooked but it had broken in a different place than adult Jason. Weird. 

How did this weedy little sprout turn into her absolute unit of a man? Jason was a verified motherfucker extraordinaire. 

She watched while Robin described his situation and location to Batman, then recounted everything she had said, word for word. 

Well, damn. Batman was probably going to come here then to collect his wayward Robin. 

She had never met Bruce and had really been hoping to keep her winning streak going. He was probably fine as a person, but she didn’t want to turn this sweet little boy over to someone she didn’t know. Going by the earnest smile, he had the utmost faith in him. She couldn’t imagine a Jason who had ever been quick to trust people. 

He finished his call and drifted back near her. 

“So. You know who I am, but I don’t know who you are.”

“We haven’t met yet.” 

“Yeah I figured that.” He looked at her with shrewd eyes. “Are you my– his–” Despite his brashness, his ears turned pink and he looked down at his feet. 

“No,” she said gently, ignoring her own cheeks feeling warm. “We’re not… not anything. He and I are just friends.”

He cocked his head. “Riiiight.”

She was suddenly overly aware of the borrowed hoodie she wore, her short shorts and bare feet. This was clearly a man’s apartment, and it was almost eleven at night. It wasn’t the most platonic looking situation. 

But she recognised the careful assessment he was giving her, even through the mask. He might be fun sized but he was already sharp as a tack.

“Actually, I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you anything,” she said.

“Why not?”

“Something something, preserving the timeline. If you know what’s going to happen it might not happen anymore.”

“Oh yeah.” He puffed out his chest. “No need to worry. Batman and Robin will take care of it.”

“I’ll leave it in your capable hands then.” She picked up her book again. She wasn’t really reading, but she made a valiant effort to move her eyes along the lines. 

Robin looked around. 

“Stop it,” she said. 

“Stop what?”

“Hunting for clues.”

He snorted. “I don’t exactly have to go hunting. What’s with the wall of guns and swords?”

Oh yeah. That. She shrugged. 

“Ask me again in a decade.”

“So it is my apartment.” 

“Don’t touch. He’s very intense about security and I don’t know if your biometrics will line up.”

He looked baffled. 

“Why wouldn’t they?” 

She stared at the words on the page. She shouldn’t have said that. 

“Robin?” a quiet voice called from a dark corner. 

She jumped and stood up.  

“B!” The kid dashed across the room. 

The shadows coalesced into a man, who stepped forwards and wrapped his cape around Robin in an expansive hug. Batman bowed his head. 

She looked away. She tried to tune out Robin’s quiet muttering to his dad. She felt like an intruder just being in the same room. 

Batman rallied himself, and they turned to the door. Of course, Bats never said goodbye, they just stopped being present. 

Batman halted before disappearing though, and looked back at her. 

“Andrea.” 

“Batman.”

“Good luck on your exam next week.” 

She did not roll her eyes. It was a near thing.

“How long do these things usually take to resolve?” she asked.

He looked at Robin with a pain so profound he could not grasp its enormity. Robin looked a little uncomfortable under his stare. Batman didn’t say anything.

The two of them left. 

She stood alone in the apartment. She looked around, feeling the size of the place for the first time. She stooped to collect the leftover food and empty plates. Jason would want the food saved, so she wrapped it up and put it in the fridge. 

What a precocious little rascal he used to be, she thought, in the silence. No wonder Bruce was so heartbroken. 

She stood alone in the empty kitchen. 

She wanted her Jason back. 

Feeling selfish and ashamed of it, she returned to the couch and sat with her feet pulled up beneath her. She turned the show back on but wasn’t really watching it. Maybe she should turn the heating off. It felt silly to heat the whole place just for her. 

Less than a minute later, the door swung open. 

Full Size Jason strolled in, with a bent piece of rebar casually resting on one shoulder. 

“Hey sweetheart,” he said, tossing the rebar onto his weapons table.

“You’re back!”

“Yup, switched back in the elevator.” He was in the same loose t-shirt and sweatpants as before, and they weren’t even blood splattered. 

“What happened on the other side?” 

“Beat up a wizard.” He collapsed onto the couch next to her and picked up her half-drunk glass of rosé. He took a sip and put his boot up on the edge of the coffee table. “Real amateur production. I shouldn’t know how to use your magical artefact better than you. How was the kid?”

“Very sweet,” she said, relaxing. “Bit of a snitch.”

“Yeah?”

“Immediately called Batman and reported every word I said.”

He scoffed. “Yeah he would.” He looked morosely into the glass. “How did Batman take it?” 

“...He was devastated.”

He frowned at the wine.  “He didn’t say a word when we swapped back.” 

She frowned at the screen. 

“I’m glad to have my Jason back,” she said. She wasn’t brave enough to look at him. 

He was watching her though. 

“Yours, hm?” 

“Yeah.” 

He hummed. They settled down again, both looking at the screen. Neither was really watching. 

“How was young Batman?” she dared to ask. 

He sighed quietly. “Younger than I remembered. Worried about his Robin.”

They watched in silence. What could she say to that? Some things couldn’t be fixed, and platitudes were just bandaids on scars. 

That little kid smiled so brightly, and it was a fucking tragedy. But it wasn’t hers. 

He put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her in against him. 

She relaxed into his side, and he stretched out some more. She snuck an arm around his waist, he nuzzled the side of her head, and neither commented on the desperately tight grasp he held her with. 

Next>>

[avintagepumpkin]

Slashers when you tell them you love them for the first time.

Featuring: Jason Voorhees, 1978 Michael Myers and Bo Sinclair

Trigger Warning: Mentions of killing, Smut

Not proofread

Jason Voorhees

Stalking and killing teens was hard work, and you had trouble keeping up sometimes. So you had started to work on your cardio, Jason never gave you the slightest inkinkling that it had bothered him. He would slow down to wait for you even if it meant losing the victim. He knew he'd always get them in the end. You just felt like you let him down all the time, he had began to notice when you started staying at home more often, he would gesture why, and then look very sad as he was leaving.

Today, you had been extremely down about yourself, and Jason noticed, he just came and sat down next to you. Setting his chin on your shoulder, he stared at you.

" What?"

You stared back at him. He took both his index fingers and put your lips into a smile.

You gave a soft laugh,

"Is it that obvious?"

He shook his head yes and motioned what was wrong.

" I dont know, sometimes I feel like I'm more of a hindrance to you"

Jason pointed at you then took your hand and put it up to his heart. You felt your cheeks flush, and kissed his mask, whispering,

"I love you."

Jason jumped up and lifted you off your feet, hugging you and spinning you around. He had seen it in a movie you made him watch. After a minute of spinning, you were laughing and getting dizzy, so Jason put you down. He looked at you and pointed to your heart and then at himself, forming a heart with his hands. He wasn't a man of many words, but he made you feel wanted none the less, you knew he was your forever.

Micheal 1978

You and Michael had been dating for about 6 months. Well, you guess you were dating, he never really made it clear. You were beginning to become impatient with the fact he refused to show you any feelings. You didn't know where you two actually stood, and it drove you insane.

You had decided today was the day to make your feelings known, so you sat him down and asked him where he thought your relationship was at. He just shrugged and looked away from you. You took your finger and turned his chin so he was looking at you. You stared deep into his eyes and told him,

"I love you Michael Myers with all my heart, you are it for me."

He just stared at you, then got up and walked out the front door. Your heart was utterly broken. You couldn't believe he had just left you. Tears began to stream down your face, and you cried for what felt like days. Finally, after crying out all of your tears, you fell asleep on the couch. The next morning, you woke up in a groggy haze and noticed Michael had come back. Once he noticed you were awake, he kneeled down in front of you, gesturing at your puffy eyes. You felt the tears beginning to surface again when he took your hand and started to walk you towards the bedroom.

" Michael, no, this isn't how it works. You don't get to break my heart and then take me to the bedroom."

He motioned for you to look, and when you did your heart swelled with love. Laying on your bed was a tombstone with your name and his name on it, only the last name was different, it was stolen for sure. The epitaph read,

"EVEN IN DEATH THEY LOVE"

You jumped into his embrace and began crying, kissing his cheek. He wiped your tears and held you.

Bo Sinclair

Your legs were currently thrown over Bo's shoulders, he was pouding deep and fast into your pussy. You felt so overstimulated, you had been at it for 2 hours and you weren't sure how much more you could take.

Days like these when Bo was upset like he was, usually after one of his victims getting away.

You knew you were in for another few hours of fucking. During one particularly strong orgasm you screamed out his name making him slam harder into you. You felt his balls slap against your ass with each thrust so you knew he was in as far as he could

You were used to him taking his frustration out on you. You actually liked it, but sometimes you craved romance. You two had been together a year and had never said I love you. Feeling another orgasm overtake you, you pulled his face down to yours and whispered "I love you," as your cunt tightened around his huge cock.

Bo stopped mid thrust locking eyes with you,

" What did you just say?"

Feeling embarrassed, you hid your face. But Bo was having none of it he pulled your face back towards him.

"What did you just say to me?"

Tears were beginning to build up

"I love you"

You whispered again,

"Are you fucking serious?"

There was a bit of uncertainty behind it.

" You actually love me, or was you just sayin it because I'm fucking you?"

Your lip trembled unsure of what his reaction was going to be,

"With all my heart, Bo, I'm so madly in love with you"

Bo continued to stare at you, then leaned forward and kissed you passionately. Laying across your body, he wraps his arms around your neck so he could be as close to you as possible. He slowly starts thrusting into you again, kissing your neck and lips. His movements were passionate and deep, leaning into your ear and kissing your lobe he whispers

" I love you so much baby"

After a few more thrusts you both cum together.

Bo relaxed across your chest as his cock slipped out,

"I really love you baby, you're mine forever"

"Ditto"

[ao3feed-brucewayne]

The Neighborhood Watch

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/2rS9lZ8 by AlexaAffect A knock on his door roused him from his vigilance, strong and steady. Jason tucked a crutch beneath his arm, pushing himself up off the couch. In his other hand he carried the gun; his finger poised on the trigger. Bruce’s gun safety rules bounced around in his head, mingling with his father’s from years earlier. Keep your finger off the trigger unless you intend to shoot. Jason didn’t intend to miss. Another knock; more frantic this time than before. He had half a mind to yell. The curses died in his throat. The list of people who knew his safe house was short. He was leaving nothing up to chance. He leaned forward, pressing the gun against the door, and checked the peephole. Dick. Immediate relief. Or alternatively; The Joker escapes Arkham and due to a broken leg, Jason can do nothing about it. Luckily, he doesn't have to wait alone. Words: 8571, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Batman - All Media Types, Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), DC Extended Universe, Batman: Under the Red Hood (2010), Batman: Wayne Family Adventures (Webcomic) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen Characters: Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown, Tim Drake, Duke Thomas, Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Barbara Gordon & Jason Todd, Cassandra Cain & Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Duke Thomas & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth & Jason Todd Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Jason Todd, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd-centric, Scared Jason Todd, Anxious Jason Todd, Jason Todd Has PTSD, Jason Todd Has Issues, Jason Todd is a Batfamily Member, Jason Todd is Not Okay, Jason Todd is Bad at Feelings, Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily (DCU) Feels, Protective Batfamily (DCU), Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Batfamily Shenanigans (DCU), Domestic Batfamily (DCU), Good Sibling Dick Grayson, Good Sibling Barbara Gordon, Good Sibling Cassandra Cain, Good Sibling Stephanie Brown, Good Sibling Tim Drake, Good Sibling Duke Thomas, Good Sibling Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne Tries to Be a Good Parent, Protective Dick Grayson, Protective Bruce Wayne, Good Parent Bruce Wayne, Good Grandparent Alfred Pennyworth, Mentioned Joker (DCU), Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, no beta we die like jason read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/2rS9lZ8

[bi-bats]

so intrigued by ALL of those titles 👀 tell me more about “the couch” please?

adkjfalksdf didn't expect that to be the one everyone wanted to know about so I'll tell you about the reason I started writing this fic since I just posted a snippet of it!! (and if you want to ask about one of the others feel free)

(...and I'm going to put it under a read more, because it got much longer and more personal than I expected it to be)

So, I used to have a couch that was... horrible. I bought it with my ex during covid with our unemployment money since we needed a new one, and it was a disaster start to finish. It was the wrong color, it was small and too low to the ground, and it was horribly made.

But also, he always sat down on it too hard. And I always told him he was sitting down on it too hard and that one day, it would break. And then the next day, he would sit down on it too hard, and I would tell him the same thing.

And one day, unsurprisingly, he sat down on it too hard and one of the center beams broke. He blamed it on the couch. Which was not necessarily false, it was not built to last, but it wasn't the whole truth. He also strained it until it broke by refusing to be aware of his own actions.

Obviously, this was also representative of our relationship as a whole. We had been together for 5 years, and in January of 2022, I broke. I finally managed to get out of that relationship (not for lack of trying, for the record). It was one of the best things I ever did for myself.

But I still had the couch.

It was ugly; it was obviously broken; it was uncomfortable to sit on. Friends would comment on it being uncomfortable, tell me I needed a new one (not unkindly, but still). And I knew I needed a new one. There were many factors in me not getting a new couch for a while, including plans to move in with a friend that fell through (we were going to pick one together) and plans for my own future that fell through (not getting into the phd programs I applied for, which was a gift in disguise) and generally recovering from being in an abusive relationship.

But every time someone pointed it out, I got mad about him all over again. I hated having the thing, and I hated that it was broken, and I hated that it reminded me of everything that had been broken in our relationship and how he essentially treated me as carelessly as the couch. And ALSO, I'd always hated it!! It was supposed to be RED!!!

So, in May of this year, I bought a new couch. The new one came before I could get rid of the old one, and for a week, I had both couches in my living room. My new couch is fucking gorgeous and I'm obsessed with it, by the way:

It felt so good to see my beautiful new couch, the one I got to pick for me, the one that I unpacked and assembled (okay, screwed the legs onto, but you get the gist) and moved myself, next to the ugly reminder of a shitty situation, and know that it was going to be gone in a week.

And in that week, I started writing The Couch. It's obviously very different from what I just wrote about if you saw the snippets, but the gist is that there's a busted, broken, fucked up couch in Jason's safehouse that he won't get rid of and Tim doesn't understand why, because he doesn't know about the memories attached to it.

It's sort of self-indulgent but it's cathartic and sweet and soft, and it was what I needed that week. Hopefully, it won't read like me pasting my feelings onto it, but I think it has a heart of its own.

Alright, sorry that got so long and personal!! Thank you for the ask and sorry that this DEFINITELY wasn't what you were looking for when you asked this, and feel free to ask about a different one if you want. Regardless, thank you for giving me a space to get this off my chest 💕💖💚

[13phantom13angel13]

Babysitting Blues

A/N:I had gotten a request with the statement “All you need to do is ask” for Jason and Tim. I love these too so much lol anyways, I hope you enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tim had broken his leg in three places. Three places! So he was stuck in a cast that went all the way up his leg and he was PISSED about it. That meant no more patrol for a while, he couldn’t get around on his own, and someone was constantly in the room keeping an eye on this stubborn boy.

Today’s babysitter was Jason. And, oh boy, was it already turning into an adventure. They had bickered continuously since the moment Tim woke up because he kept trying to do things he wasn’t supposed to. Like get up on his own. Jason chewed him up one end and down the other while forcing him to sit down on the couch with his leg propped up. Tim smacked him in the shin with one of his crutches in retaliation.

So after a few moments of bickering and one cup of coffee later, Tim finally simmered down. Jason had tossed a book at his face with a huffy “Shut your damn mouth and read something, Replacement.” So read he did. Both of them had drifted into a peaceful silence for a bit, with Jason reading a book as well. Then Tim’s foot started to itch. The one that was attached to his injured leg. He shifted slightly trying to scratch it against the fabric of the couch.

It was working in his favor. So he tried to scratch it with his other foot. That wasn’t working either. It was starting to get worse and he didn’t know what to do. All the shifting had caught Jason’s attention. He looked over at Tim curiously to see what he was doing. Shaking his head, he set his book down.

“Tim, is your foot itchy?” Tim looked at him sheepishly.

“Yeah…”

“Do you need help?”

“Uh…” Tim wracked his brain quickly for a way out of this. Sure, his foot was itchy. But it was also really freaking ticklish. He didn’t want Jason scratching his foot. He knew the chaos that would follow.

“Replacement. Do you need help?”

“N-No! No, I got it, Jay. Thank you.” He leaned forward and scratched his foot. Thank god he was flexible.

Jason got up and walked over to him sitting by Tim’s feet. He knew where this was going and he didn’t like it. Jason grabbed the ankle of his non injured leg and held it in an iron grip.

“Jason…don’t you dare. I know that look!” Tim warned him. A grin started to spread across Jason’s lips.

“Don’t what, Timmy?”

“Tickle me!” The moment it slipped out of his mouth, he wanted to slap himself. He just fell for the oldest trick in the book! Jason’s grin became evil.

“All you need to do is ask,” Jason purred out as he began to wiggle his fingers against Tim’s foot. Laughter came flooding out of him with no hope of stopping it.

“THIHIHIHIS ISN’T FAHAHAHAHAIR, JAHAHASON!!!”

He had to laugh at that. He knew he was being mean to the younger one. But it was just so easy!

“With your other leg out of commission right now, this the best time to tickle the shit out of you. You can’t kick me now!”

“JAHAHAHAHASON YOHOHOU BAHAHAHAHAASTARD!!!”

Tim twisted his torso to the side in some sort of poor attempt to break free. That did nothing. His face was already starting to turn red as tears formed in his eyes. He hated when his brothers tickled his feet. They knew it was his worst spot and how uncoordinated it made him.

“PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!!! HAHAHAHAVE MEHEHEHEHERCY!!!”

And then Jason had to go and make it worse. The scream that ripped out of Tim’s throat could’ve shattered glass. Jason’s tickling fingers had worked their way up under his toes. Tim’s laughter went silent as the tears spilled over on to his red cheeks. He couldn’t move his body. His hands clenched the couch cushion so hard Jason started to hear the fabric rip. Tim’s laughter had turned into breathy gasps. He was reaching his limit.

When Jason heard a faint “Can’t breathe” he decided to call it quits. He released Tim from his hold and the younger male laid there gasping for air. He weakly glares at Jason over his shoulder.

“W-What…the hell…” Jason chuckled at him.

“You’ve been moody the past few days. You needed a cheer up dude,” He stated as he patted his leg and stood to grab his book. Tim groaned rolling over on to his back.

“When I’m out of my cast, your ass is mine,” He grumbled as he, too, picked up his book. Jason smiled and sat beside him.

“I look forward to it, bro.”

[morganas-pendragons]

in loving memory of Jason Todd

we're going to follow the under the red hood plot for the sake of this fic, but this came to me in the shower as all good fics do! please let me know if you'd like to be tagged in any Batboy fics. and hello to all you new followers. welcome. I hope you love it here! this follows the Grayson!sister plot!

tag: @darth-vaders-bitch

***

3 days ago...

"JJ." Jason freezes mid-step in his trek back to his bike parked in the shadows - because he wasn't about to step in and save the baby bat replacement without a reason to - and very slowly turns around to meet your gaze. He would've glared the person to death who dared to call him something so juvenile. Coming from the person he'd loved since he was 13, though... he was okay with it. "Thank you."

He swallows the knot in his throat as you scoop Tim up into your arms. Little Tim, his Replacement, who is still a child and only trusts you to be vulnerable around. He's hurt. He's a kid and he didn't deserve what those thugs had done to him.... and after all you'd endured since losing Jason all those years and then coming back again.. he'd give you this. He'd let Tim live if it made you happy.

"Anytime, darlin'." He replied softly.

"You asked me a question, before." Black gloves reach outward to envelop his wrist. "If I still loved you. Here's your answer."

You lay a thumb drive in his palm. It's small, barely bigger than his thumb, and labeled with the year he had died. He should toss it into the Gotham River and never entertain the answers that are on that flash drive. He should let you go. Let you move on. Clearly the Bats need you.

But not like he does.

No one had sang him a song since the song of the countdown in that god forsaken warehouse. What hurts more, A or B? Forehand, or back hand? ha HA hA Ha hA!

The taste of blood in his mouth, the broken domino. The way he'd been so convinced that Bruce would save him.

The way he felt nothing but warmth until Death took him.

Jason Todd refuses to forgive Bruce Wayne for the torture he put him through. Manipulating the child he'd take under his wing and give the moniker Robin. The boy who loved Neopolitan ice cream and English literature and cooking in the kitchens with Alfred. That version of him is dead, but even then... somehow, someway, you still find it in you to love him.

And that's the best song he's heard in years. It rings with joy and hope and everything he's seeking.

Upon return to his safe house, Jason nudged the door open with his hip and slipped inside. He was starving and needed a shower. Some sleep. Clean his guns and check his security system, make sure it's up to speed. Instead, Jason sits down on the ratty yellow couch that's ten years out of date and curls his legs beneath him as he plugs the thumb drive in.

A folder with the year he died and the words In Loving Memory of Jason Todd shows up. His stomach turns at the sight of those words as his brain reads them repeatedly. Jason had been under the impression when he'd woken up in the Pit and begun being trained by the League that no one had mourned him. Why would they? Why would you?

You wanted to know if I loved you. Here's your answer.

You can do this. Jason opens the folder and is greeted with half a dozen or more videos, most of which are you and only you. They seem to have been recorded in the middle of the night long after the rest of the Bats are asleep and Bruce isn't around to be nosy about why you would be using the Batcomputer at 4 am. That was exactly what you needed, and it had worked.

Jason clicked on the one week after video and waited.

***

One week after Jason died...

Camera opens onto a dark room. There's a single figure that emerges from the shadow, enveloped in a royal blue sweatshirt that's far too big on her, and they come to sit in the chair that is meant for a grown man.

Little Grayson stares at the camera of the Batcomputer and begins talking,

"It's been one week, JJ." You murmur. "One week since Bruce came home and said your body had been claimed by an explosion. That you were gone, and that he hadn't been fast enough to save you. I still don't know why you didn't just let me go with you... maybe I could've done something." Your fingers curl around the cuff of the sweatshirt sleeve tight enough to turn your knuckles white. "I had something I was going to ask you when you got back home... but today we finally buried you, and that question died on my lips when we put that body in the grave.

It doesn't feel right, letting you go. Part of me, the part in denial, says you're not really dead at all. But I know I'm naive. I've always been naive. It's part of the reason why Bruce won't let me go in the field now."

Jason snorts. That's typical.

"There were so many things I loved about you. Things that drove Dick and Alfred and Bruce nuts..." Soft laughter falls past your lips as you rest your head in your hand. "But I would not and will never change a thing about you. If you are really gone, Jason.... I hope you're at peace." Your eyes meet the camera, dark circles just beginning to form and red rimmed from crying. Jason knows then that his death will haunt you. That you will never be over the guilt that comes with it. "I hope you knew I love you."

Camera goes dark.

***

It takes him several hours to be able to gather the courage to open the next video. Once he does, dawn has just begun peeking over Gotham's skyline and there's a steaming cup of the tea Alfred got him hooked on years ago in front of him.

You're way too freaking domestic for a serial killer.

Shut up.

He snorts softly and opens the next video. Six week after his death, and it's evident.

***

Six Weeks After....

Camera opens, and this time it's to a very obvious fight. Bruce is the one at the computer at 4 AM and he has his back turned to the camera, chair cast out of the way to show both his form and that of the younger Grayson. The audio is garbled and distorted until Bruce disappears off camera alongside a flash of gray hair, and then Little Wing is settling back in the chair.

Your eyes are dark. Way darker then he's ever seen them, and there's an air of loathing and despair that settles around you like the cape Batman wears. Dark as night and even more suffocating.

"I don't know why I keep coming down here. Is this a way to torture myself? My penance for not doing enough for Jason?" Jason's chest constricts too tight and he rubs at the dip in his sternum to try to ease the ache there he cannot actually do anything about. It's a phantom pain. Pain he can feel from you. "JJ, you will always be the best thing that ever happened to me. Let's note that makes Dick really jealous... but he can shove off and keep all his regal titles and all the things the obnoxious and overprotective big brothers get to do. And he's such a good brother. I wish he saw himself that way." Your eyes meet the camera. "I wish you knew how we mourned you. Bruce has been acting so distant and cold and I haven't seen him cry a single time since he brought you home.. but I know he mourns. Or at least I'd like to think he does. Who knows anymore. But he is not my father. My father wouldn't berate me for not being able to let the boy I love go. I hope you see yourself the way I see you, if you ever see this." Laughter bubbles past your throat. It's so.. bitter. Like the thought of what you just said is so utterly ridiculous you cannot even begin to comprehend why you said it. "Idiot. Maybe he's right. Maybe I am stupid."

Jason pauses the video before it goes dark to gaze at you. Your hair is longer and unkempt, like you haven't found it in you to have the energy to brush your hair. You're wearing the same blue sweatshirt that Jason hasn't recognized until now is his. It's highly likely that you wouldn't let Alfred touch it because it smelled like him. Alfie, you sentimental sap.

His fingers graze your cheek. When he finds you back on patrol, he intends to give this back. This isn't something you just throw away. Even with The Replacement in the picture and your obvious dedication to the Bats, there's something stirring low in Jason's gut that tells him you love him just as much now as you did then.

And well.... Red Hood is allowed to love. He deserves to.

***

The last video in the six is not you, but Dick. Dick Grayson is sitting in the chair spinning himself around repeatedly as he gazes at a small lavender box in his hand.

"Hey Jay. I didn't realize until about a month and a half ago that Little Wing was still making these videos for you. I'm not entirely sure why. Truth be told I think it's because you were you and someone doesn't just get over you.... which is why it's me in here instead of the little one." He holds up the box and opens it. It's a ring. A promise ring Jason had secured long before his death in the hopes of one day, being able to give it to you wit ha promise that he would marry you. "And then I found this when I was helping Alfie clean your room. You hid it in your underwear drawer, you scoundrel." Jason would've been lying if he said that Dick's laugh that followed didn't make him warm. Dick had always had that gift about him.. comforting when he didn't even realize he was doing it. Just the sound of his laughter was enough. "And just so you know... you have my blessing. Marry my sibling." Dick leans forward and lays the box just in front of the camera. "And have the life you deserve."

The laptop lid slams shut and Jason is out the door before he can stop himself.

***

"So do you believe me-"

The two of you are standing on the rooftop under the Vicki Vale billboard when Jason throws the Red hood helmet to the side and fixes your eyes head-on. There is not a drop of hesitation or fear but acceptance. And that look on someone who has suffered as much as Jason Todd has is probably the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

He is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

"You kept the ring." You pull the promise ring from underneath your armor on the silver chain you'd gotten years beforehand. It kept it safe. Kept him safe, before you were the only one of the Bats who knew he was alive. "You kept the ring knowing you wanted to ask me something if you ever saw me again. I'm gonna ask you now."

Your whole world slows down as he sets himself on one knee and asks with all the confidence of a man finally allowing himself to accept love and be loved for the rest of his life.

Will you marry me?

[kassoolol]

⁻ ˏˋ꒰ 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐩 𝐎𝐟 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 ꒱ˊˎ⁻

this was inspired by the song 'Trap of Love' from Scooby Doo! Mystery Incorporated. special thanks to @per-sie for encouraging me to write this lil one-shot/short story. i haven't written in over 2 years and its all thanks to you that i wrote this, persie 🫶!! in this story, there is no vecna, and chrissy had been broken up w/ jason and dating eddie for a month. jason keeps showing up to the hideout on tuesdays to try and get chrissy back, and chrissy's had enough. each section of the little ~ symbol is a change in time, going from present, to past, and back again. thank you, in advance, if you happen to like it!

******

Eddie sat on the run-down bars dressing room’s couch, fiddling with his guitar pick as nervousness and excitement coursed through him. His hands seemed shakier that they were, since they were resting on his wildly bouncing right leg. No matter how many times the current situation ran through his head, he simply couldn’t seem to believe it. 

Chrissy Cunningham was going to sing front and center with his band. Chrissy Elizabeth Cunningham with Corroded Coffin. Queen of Hawkins High, singing with Hawkins resident Freak and his band of misfits. 

In attempt to collect himself and his thoughts again, he went over the situation once more. 

~~~~~~

Eddie rested his back up against the side of his van, glancing around the parking lot for the now familiar sight of Chrissy Cunningham. Sure, he had found himself looking for her before they became friends and got together, but now, it was different. She would be looking for him. She made way for his van. Just thinking about it made a small grin appear on his face, which stayed for a second before it dropped and was replaced by a look of confusion. The strawberry blonde had a notebook in her left arms grasp, with a pen in her right that quickly danced across the page as she wrote. He recognized the pen as her favorite pink glitter gel pen. She didn’t glance up at all until she was practically at his feet. 

“There must be something insanely interesting in that notebook, I saw you almost trip on the way over here, Princess. Not very lady like.” He teased, humor and genuine curiosity rang through his words. 

Chrissy’s head lifted enough so she could look him in the eyes, resulting in Eddie subtly slouching against the van to save her the neck pain. “I was- I was just- Never mind, it’s silly.” She stammered, a pink flush gradually coating her cheeks as her eyes started to focus on her shoes. 

Eddie crossed his arms in a child-like manner, pouting. “C’mon, sweetheart. Did you forget that you’re dating the resident freak of this town, who plays the nerdiest game in history? I highly doubt whatever’s in that notebook is worse than that.” He knew Chrissy couldn’t help but reply to whatever he asked when he said something negative about himself or his interests, it drove her crazy. “But seriously,” his tone shifted to a more serious but understanding one, “You can show me, I won’t judge, or think it’s silly. I promise.”

That seemed to do the trick. Chrissy looked back at him, still shy but willing. “Fine, fine. Just- Stop talking about yourself like that, and i’m holding you to that promise.” A tad shakily, she handed over the notebook to him, leaving her hands idly taking off and putting back on the cap of her pen nervously. 

Eddie tore his eyes away from her, and begun to read the page. Her penmanship was in neat cursive, but some words were crossed out and had little notes written above them in rushed print. He managed to read what she wanted it to say, nevertheless.

Your unloving heart ensnares me

Negligent eyes, too blind to see

Empty words, an iron cage

Broken heart, searing rage

Can’t wait for you and me

It’s time I’m set free

Eddie felt his heart and stomach doing summersaults as he read her writing, like he usually felt when Chrissy showed him something in her life. It reassured him that she still liked him and that she was real. At first he thought it was a poem, but then it clicked. They were lyrics. He knew lyrics when he saw them, and they definitely were.

“I didn’t know you wrote lyrics! Or are these lyrics to some ABBA or Cyndi Lauper song I don’t know?” Eddie asked, his head doing a slight tilt as he asked, almost like a dog hearing a high pitched noise. It was a small mannerism he picked up from Chrissy. 

Even more blush than before crept up her face, coloring her entire face rather than just her cheeks. “They’re mine. I wrote them, I mean. I was thinking- I was thinking about writing a song, but I have no clue what I’m doing, honestly.” She kept her eyes hyper focused on the pen, but started to miss the cap entirely as she tried to put it back on. The whole thing seemed to have her a wreck.

Eddie placed his free hand on her shoulder, causing her to look up as he smiled at her. “You? You wanna write a song and didn’t think to ask your musician boyfriend?  I’m hurt, you’ve wounded me.” His hand went to his chest, the same as it did when she didn’t remember him and his band that day in the woods. 

His antics earned him a giggle and a toothy smile from Chrissy, giving him butterflies. “I was going to!” Right as she said that, he knew she didn’t plan on it. “Okay, yes, maybe I was going to keep it from you, but I just started it today and I thought you’d think it was silly. Can you forgive me?” She pulled her lips together in a pleading way, giving him the puppy dog eyes. Of course he’d forgive her, there’s no way he would be mad about something like this.

“Of course, Princess, anything for you. Speaking of which, how about I help you out with it? Y’know, help when or if you need it? We’re free to go to my place, Wayne leaves around this time when he works nights.” His suggestion floated around in the air for a moment before Chrissy smiled and nodded her head in agreement. “It’s Uncle Wayne.”

~~~~~~

“Eddie? Hey, Eddie, man? We’re ready to rehearse the songs, everything’s set up now, no ones here yet.” The sound of Gareth’s voice snapped Eddie from his thoughts. Gareth’s words had a lot of confusion, but mostly urgency. They normally couldn’t rehearse, due to the 5 drunks wanting to start drinking and complaining early, but they didn’t today, for whatever reason. 

“Yeah, yeah, cool. Let’s get ready to charm the drunks, yeah?”

Eddie followed behind Gareth to the main stage of The Hideout, where they’d be performing. Jeff was making sure his electric guitar was ready to roll, while Gareth walked over to keyboard. His normal instrument was an electric bass, but tonight’s main song called for the keyboard, which Gareth just so happened to be able to play. The main thing that caught Eddie’s eye was the angel sitting on one of the amps by Eddie’s guitar. Chrissy simply looked ethereal in black, the spotlight happening to perfectly shine above her like a halo in heaven. If this was the closest he’d get to heaven, he’d take it. The only thing that snapped him out of his trance was Chrissy looking up from her paper, and waving him over with a smile. 

Eddie took a few steps to get to her, due to his height. He rubbed his neck, obvious that she caught him staring at her like a creep. Before he could apologize, she spoke. “Is the outfit too much? I bought the clothes yesterday, but I didn’t know what’d be appropriate. I look like a try hard, don’t I?” Her voice showed her uncertainty but Eddie thought she was being silly. 

“Chrissy, you’re breathtaking. I don’t know how else to describe it, honestly.” Eddie spoke breathlessly, his own cheeks gaining color. “You fit right in, don’t worry. I can say with certainty that I’m gonna have to defend you against the resident drunks of this place, so take that as a compliment.”

She flashed her famous smile at him, giggling. “I look forward to your defending, then. Want to look over the lyrics with me?” 

Eddie simply nodded as Chrissy got up, letting Eddie sit on the amp himself. Chrissy swiftly sat on his lap as he chuckled in response, her arms going around his neck and his left arm going around her waist tightly, his right hand holding the lyric sheet. Just reading the lines sent him back in time. 

~~~~~~

The two of them arrived at Eddie’s trailer, which was quickly becoming their most common hangout spot. They did go to other places, like Skull Rock or a small diner, but the Munson trailer was the most comfortable for the both of them. Chrissy sat down on the couch, her right leg crossing over the other, while Eddie made his way to the kitchen to get a snack. He got a bag of microwave popcorn and put it into the microwave to cook. As the machine started to hum, Eddie turned to rest his lower back against the counter and let his eyes rest on Chrissy. Once again, her focus was on her notebook, brows furrowed as tongue stuck out a little. 

“So, what’s the song for? Why are you writing it?” He asked her, her response being a little head shake and a sigh. 

“You know how Jason has been coming to the hideout every Tuesday since I broke up with him? I was thinking that maybe a song would finally get him to realize I’m not going back to him. I want to sing it myself, so he really gets the message, but, like I said, I have no clue what I’m doing. Not to mention the fact I can’t fathom being on stage, especially since Jason brings at least half the basketball team with him.” Chrissy rambled on, her speech getting fast and breathless. It was clear how much this meant to her, but it was also clear how lost she was. 

The microwave beeped, leading Eddie to pour the popcorn into a bowl and take his seat next to Chrissy. He put the bowl on the coffee table for easy access, then looked over Chrissy’s notebook. 

“Okay, what do you need help with?” He started out with the most basic question, knowing Chrissy didn’t have the much music knowledge. 

“Everything? I guess the lyrics to start with, since that’s the most I can do.” They both giggled at this, Chrissy giving the notebook to Eddie, then grabbing a piece of popcorn for herself. “Alright, lets the this show on the road!”

With both of them working together, they managed to write all the lyrics to Chrissy’s song.

The strawberry blondes face was showing pure excitement and happiness, grinning from ear to ear. Chrissy’s doe-like eyes stared into Eddie’s, causing a rosy hue to flush on both of their cheeks. “I love it, Eddie, thank you! I wouldn’t have been able to write it without you.” She ended her words with a quick but passionate kiss on the lips. 

It took every bit of his will power to not continue their kissing session, but for good reason. “As much as I wanna kiss you right now, there’s something else I don’t think you thought of.” 

Chrissy did a little head tilt in response, her brow raising as she continued to smile. “There is? What is it?” She asked, her response apparent that she truly hadn’t thought any further than the lyrics. He softened a bit, adoring how much passion she had for her little project. “You forgot about the whole ‘music portion’ of music. Can you play any instruments?” 

The strawberry blonde’s face flushed almost as brightly as her hair. Her hands rushed to cover her face as she mumble ‘Oh my god!’ Eddie gently pried her hands from her face, continuing to hold them in his as he spoke. “What if Corroded Coffin played for you? Well, Corroded Coffin minus Jason, he’s sick.”

Chrissy’s eyes widened, her jaw dropping. She blinked a few times, as if she was processing his words, until she spoke. “Are- Are you for real? You think they’d really do that? It’s not exactly metal, the way I imagined it.” Her voice rung with uncertainty, but hopeful. 

“C’mon, Princess. Anything, and I mean anything, for you. Even if it means playing music that isn’t metal.” Eddie smiled, chuckling at the fact he had to reassure her on many occasions that he’d do anything for her. 

Chrissy squealed with happiness and flung herself onto the metal head, her arms tightly going around his neck in an embrace. “Thank you, Eddie. You don’t have any idea how happy this makes me. How happy you make me.” Eddie smiled into the crook of her neck, then swiftly moved her so she sat in his lap, his arm wrapped around her waste as his other cupped her cheek. “I think I have an idea, Princess.” The two smiled as their lips locked together in pure ecstasy.

~~~~~~

Chrissy and Corroded Coffin finished their rehearsal and warm up, now waiting for their time to go on stage in the dressing room. Eddie decided to take a peek from behind the curtain to see the crowd and was thoroughly surprised. In a strange twist of fate, The Hideout had many more patrons than the usual five drunks. There were at least twenty people, a good half of them were made up of a few Hawkins High students, including Jason and his goons. Luckily, there were some friendly face there, being Dustin, Max, Lucas, Steve, Robin and Nancy. He made eye contact with Dustin, who grinned wildly back at him, and then he saw the bars owner, giving him the signal that it was time to go on. 

“Alright, time to shine! You guys ready to make Jason shit his pants?!” Eddie’s question riled up the band, Chrissy included. She was filled with confidence thanks to Eddie and the band. She was rocking a full midnight purple pleather outfit which consisted of a corset top, a short low rise skirt, gloves that reached the middle of her upper arm, a matching neckpiece, thigh high platform boots and gold hoop earrings. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail, curled at the ends, like she always had it. Her hair had grown a large amount in a month, so it easily reached her shoulder blades. 

Eddie hugged her from behind as she checked her makeup one last time. “Do I look okay?” She asked him, not bothering to turn around since she could clearly see his face in the mirrors reflection. “You always look heaven sent, Sweetheart. So yes, you look okay.” His words oozed sincerity and adoration for her, letting her regain confidence once again. “Ready?” He asked, Chrissy replying with the same words. 

Chrissy and Corroded Coffin filed onto the stage, each member going to their instrument in the dark. Chrissy, fully encased in a black cloak, sat on a chair in the middle of the stage. Gareth was to her right, Eddie further up to her left and Jeff to the far left in the back. The crowd went silent besides a few coughs and a few mutters confused about the person in the middle and the instrument choice. The stage lights came on, purple and blue lighting shining on the stage. Gareth began the song on his keyboard, Eddie and Jeff following after a few beats. After the quick intro, Chrissy stood and began to sing.

Your unfeeling heart imprisons me

Careless eyes, too blind to see

Empty words, an iron cage

Broken heart, bleeding rage

Chrissy slowly walked to the middle of the stage, dropping the cloak to the floor so she was fully visible. She kept her composure as she glanced quickly around the crowd, seeing familiar faces, but one was prominent. Jason Carver. His face showed pure shock, just as everyone did, but his filled her with contentment. Seeing him see her like this, it felt so good. He’d finally realize that she isn’t his trophy anymore. This filled her with fiery bliss, ready to show him what he lost. 

Can’t wait for you and me

It’s time I break free

Trap of  love

Snared by desire

Trap of love

Burned by your fire

Trap of love

Snared by desire

Trap of love

Beware the trap of love

Chrissy took her breath as she prepared for the second part of the song, once again taking in the crowd. A few of the drunks and the friendly faces of Dustin and the group all seemed content with the song so far, even thought it wasn’t The Hideout’s normal choice of music. Jason’s face effected her the most though. His jaw had been dropped from the moment she dropped her cloak, and his goons were all freaking out about her performance. She smiled to herself as she sung the next verse, the band continuing to sing backup. 

Let me be, it’s time we part

Set me free, uncage my heart

Can’t wait for you and me

It’s time for you to see

Trap of love

Snared by desire

Trap of love

Burned by your fire

Trap of love

Snared by desire

Trap of love

Beware the trap of love

The song came to a close as Chrissy held direct eye contact with Jason, the resident patrons clapping and whooping for them. Dustin was the loudest by far, yelling as loud as he can while Robin, Steve and Lucas whistled into the crowd. Eddie walked and stood next to Chrissy, gently taking the mic from her hands. “Jason Carver, that one was for you, buddy.” Eddie spoke with confidence, and an obvious patronizing tone towards the basketball player. Before Jason could yell a response back, Chrissy turned and pulled Eddie’s shirt down, causing him to lean down as Chrissy passionately kissed him. Dustin and the group seemed to get even louder, the band began cheering too. The strawberry blonde pulled back, and enormous grin on her face as she took back the mic. “And that was for you too, Jason.” Their spectacle left the dirty blonde speechless as his goons all loudly yelled over one another. Eddie wrapped his arm around her and quickly escorted them off the stage, Gareth and Jeff following suit. 

“Holy shit, Cunningham! You were on fire, baby!” Eddie spun her around in his arms as she laughed loudly, Gareth and Jeff celebrating with multiple ‘Hell yeah!’ and incoherent hollering. He put her down but kept his hands wrapped tightly around her waist.

“Thank you, all of you! I think he finally got the hint, thanks to you!” Chrissy giggled her thanks, everyone whooping in response. She focused her eyes on his, then his lips, and back up again. “And for you, how about we go back to your place?” She asked, low enough so only he could hear. He smirked, his smile littered with contentment. “Anything you desire, Princess. Say the word and I’ll make it happen.” Chrissy took this to heart and muttered quietly as they made way to his van, Gareth and Jeff getting the hint and taking care of the equipment so the kindred freaks could have their time alone. 

[makethatelevenrings]

For Your Eyes Only // B. Wayne x gn!reader

Requested? Yes!

Warnings: mention of fear toxin

Summary: Bruce Wayne has enough money to buy anything. That makes gift giving extremely difficult. Until you come up with an idea.

The idea sprang to your mind like Athena from Zeus. It had been a hard night with numerous Rogues breaking out of Arkham and a newer, more potent fear gas strain being dispersed in the city. Tim’s rebreather had been broken, so Bruce gave him the one on his belt.

You had spent eight hours curled up in the cold metal chair next to the medical bay cot, your hand tightly clasped in his as he sweat out the toxin. You couldn’t banish the fears he was seeing from his mind, but you could be with him, holding his hand and kissing his brow. The kids periodically came in with snacks and water and blankets, but they only stayed for a few minutes before disappearing once again. You knew they felt guilty for letting Bruce take the brunt of the toxin, but you also knew that your boyfriend wouldn’t want his kids to feel that way. Once Bruce was up and moving, you would turn your attention on making sure the batlings and birds didn’t let the guilt eat them alive, especially Tim.

It was during hour seven when his shivering began to subside and his stare was less vapid and more focused that the idea came to you. Christmas wasn’t for another few months but, hey, you had a lot of people to shop for so might as well get started now.

But you didn’t want to buy anything for Bruce. Hell, there was nothing to buy. He was the richest man in Gotham and could easily purchase whatever he wanted, from a Porsche to a penthouse. When you first started dating, you teased him endlessly about dating someone from “the lower class” despite his constant eyerolls. Jason and Steph found it hilarious, however, and so you would keep up the jokes as long as you had two allies on your side.

This idea…it was special. It was sentimental. By god, it was sappy.

You really hoped that your emotionally constipated boyfriend appreciated it.

Christmas morning came and went. The kids were showered with gifts, of course, ranging in weaponry to books to new pencils and everything in between. You sat nestled next to Bruce on one of the couches, warm and content as the light and heat of the fireplace washed over you. A mug of coffee sat nestled in your hands and a blanket was tucked around your legs, courtesy of the worrywart of a man next to you.

“I’d like to give you my gift later. When we’re alone,” you murmured to him. His eyebrow lifted, curiosity staining his usually impassive face and you smacked his chest.

“Not like that.” Your scowl was met with a soft grin and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head as you settled back against his chest to watch the kids descend on their wrapped gifts.

Around noon, you slipped out of the living room where the kids were spread out watching Die Hard. You waited for a moment when strong hands curled around your hips and a chin settled on your shoulder.

“Merry Christmas,” you chuckled.

“Merry Christmas, darling.” You pulled him upstairs with you to your shared bedroom and pushed him down to sit on the edge of the bed so you could dash to the walk-in closet and rummage through your shoes.

“I know you could have easily found these, but it’s the principle of the matter,” you declared as you emerged from the closet. An old shoebox sat in your hands and you extended it to him, suddenly shy at the thought of him opening this gift. Once he took it from your grasp, you stepped away and wrung your hands together as he opened it.

Bruce was silent for a moment and you regretted everything. This was stupid. It had been a stupid idea and you should have just gone out and bought him new cufflinks or somethi-

He tugged you closer to him and rested his forehead against your stomach, his eyes still locked on the pile of letters in the box. Each letter was labeled on the outside with a small message.

“Open me when you’re at the Watchtower,” one read.

“Open me if I’m not home for the night,” another said.

“Open me when the darkness is too much.”

Letter upon letter crowded the small box, each handwritten with an outpouring of emotion. You wrote encouragement, love, and occasional derision when you knew he would have his head up his ass. Bruce was a reserved man and he didn’t take genuine compliments well.

Having a chance to read these in private and receive your love outside of verbal words?

“Thank you, darling,” he breathed as he tugged you down to sit in his lap. You nestled your head against the crook of his neck and played with a loose strand on the sleeve of his cashmere sweater.

“And when you’ve read them all, I’ll always have more words waiting for you here.”

His lips pressed against the crown of your head as he ran his fingers over the rough paper beneath his fingers. No words needed to be said. You both understood the love that you felt. It was all written out on paper.

Tag List: @someoneimsure​ @perpetual-fangirl900​ @visagebrise​ @alexxavicry​ @havingarebelliousstage​ @the-wayward-daughter​ @cursedandromedablack​ 

[fridayfirefly]

Seeing Ghosts

Read Seeing Ghosts on AO3

Masterlist

For Maribat March Day 12 - Second Chance

For as long as she could remember, Marinette could see ghosts. It wasn't always the ghosts of strangers, though. Her ghost encounters started small. When Marinette was four years old, her parents told her that the family cat, Tikki, had left to live in the countryside. Marinette didn't understand, because Tikki still lived with them. Tikki still meowed for pets, still purred when Marinette pet her, still played with her favorite toy, the laser pointer that Marinette got for her last birthday. It wasn't until two weeks later, that Tom and Sabine sat Marinette down and explained to her that Tikki had died, that she needed to stop pretending that she was still there. Marinette was confused until she saw the way Tikki's paws batted right through her toys, the way she never ate the scraps that Marinette dropped on the floor. Marinette knew two things for sure: Tikki was dead and Marinette could still see her ghost.

For years and years, Tikki was the only ghost that Marinette saw. Then Marinette turned fourteen and Marinette could suddenly see.

They haunted the corners of her eyes, lurking in her periphery. They were just shadows, phantoms until Marinette focused her eyes, and then she could see them clear as day. Ghosts were real and Marinette could see them. Ghosts were real and they were everywhere, an inescapable reality for Marinette.

Quickly, the ghosts learned that Marinette could see them. They followed her around, lingering at the edge of her sight. She could hear them too, little whispers about the baker's daughter, the only person who could see them. However, none of the ghosts were bold enough to approach her. That was the status quo, until one day when Marinette came home from school one day to a ghost lurking in her room.

Marinette gasped as she saw the ghost sitting in the chair at her desk, staring at her with knowing blue eyes. He was her age, which made his brutal injuries all the more horrific to look at. His skull was caved in. His chest was mangled. His skin was shredded and burned. He had been beaten to death, tortured in his final moments.

"I've been told that you can see ghosts," the boy remarked, ignoring Marinette's shock entirely. He spoke in English instead of French, luckily Marinette's class had been learning both languages, so she was able to understand.

Marinette nodded, her throat suddenly unable to get a word out.

"You can hear ghosts, too. Can you bring them back to life?"

Marinette shook her head, clearing her throat as she began to speak in English, "I've never tried, but I don't think so."

"Could you try? For me?" pleaded the boy, the desperation in his expression breaking Marinette's heart.

"I don't even know you," said Marinette, trying to find a way to gently let the boy down. Seeing ghosts was one thing; bringing them back to life was another thing entirely.

"I'm Jason Todd." Jason stuck out his hand and Marinette tentatively shook it.

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

It wasn't until Marinette pulled her hand back that she realized that his hand - and now her's - was covered in blood. With a shriek of surprise, Marinette stumbled backward away from Jason. "What did you do?"

"What did I do? What did you do?"

"This has never happened before. Somehow my touch turned you corporeal enough for the blood on your hand to transfer to mine."

Jason glanced down at his hands. "Your fingers left prints in the blood. I've spent hours trying to wash the blood away for months, and you managed to do it by accident."

Marinette stared at her hands, the realization sinking in. Jason Todd was dead and his blood was on her hands. In the blink of an eye, Marinette was running to the bathroom to throw up. She thought she would be able to handle looking at the injuries of the dead, but Jason's wounds suddenly felt personal. Someone beat him to death, beat him until his bones broke and his skull caved him. Marinette heaved into the toilet, unable to cope with the violence of Jason's death.

When Marinette finally lifted her head, she saw Jason lingering at the door, looking guilty. "I'm sorry. I know that this is pretty graphic to look at." Jason gestured towards himself.

Marinette shook her head. "You don't have to apologize." After rinsing her mouth out until the taste of vomit was gone, Marinette turned to Jason. "Come here."

Jason approached her at the sink. With the water still running, Marinette took his hands and held them underneath the water. They both watched as the water turned red, then pink, then ran clear as all of the blood washed off Jason's hands. "Thank you," Jason whispered.

Marinette took a deep breath. "I can't make any promises, but I will do my best to bring you back."

--

Bringing the ghost of a human boy back to life seemed like an impossible task, so Marinette started small: with Tikki the ghost cat. It took two weeks of experimentation before Marinette realized that with enough meditation she could funnel some of her energy into Tikki's ghost. With Jason to help her take notes, Marinette began to figure out the ins-and-outs of resurrection.

The most difficult part was figuring out exactly how much energy Marinette could expend before it took a toll on her physical health. The very first time she gave Tikki energy, Marinette woke up the next morning with bruises littering her body. Tom and Sabine took Marinette to the doctor's where she was diagnosed with anemia and prescribed iron supplements. Jason was so concerned about Marinette's well-being that he refused to let her give any more energy away before she had returned to her full health.

A few weeks after the initial mishap Marinette got back on track. Every morning she would push just a little bit of energy into Tikki. Little by little, Tikki turned from specter to physical being. Then, one morning, as Marinette pushed energy into Tikki, she felt her energy hit a wall. At the same time, Marinette felt Tikki's fur under her hand for the first time in ten years.

"You brought her back!" Jason exclaimed.

Marinette let out a whoop of joy, scaring Tikki, who jumped out of Marinette's lap with a startled meow. Marinette grabbed Tikki back up, able to properly hug her beloved pet for the first time in ten years. "I've got to go show Tikki to my parents. I'm going to tell them that I found her outside."

"You'll need to give her a new name," said Jason. "Might I suggest Alfred."

Tom and Sabine were surprised, which was to be expected. After all, it wasn't every day that their daughter found a doppelgänger of their dead cat in the alley behind the bakery. However, they were quick to rationalize the event, shrugging it off as a strange coincidence. Alfred became a beloved new member of the family.

After her success with Alfred neé Tikki, Marinette turned her attention to Jason. Their very first attempt took place in Marinette's bedroom. Marinette and Jason sat down cross-legged on the floor. Marinette placed her hands on top of Jason's and concentrated. She felt the life force within herself and pressed it forward, through her hands and into his.

"I can feel it," whispered Jason, "I've never felt anything like it before. It's so warm."

The awe in Jason's voice made Marinette feel warm inside as well. "I'm going to start with just a little bit of energy. I don't know how transferring energy to a human will differ from transferring energy to a cat, and I don't want to burn myself out on the very first transfer."

"Do this at whatever pace you need. I don't want you to hurt yourself."

Marinette smiled with his reassurance. She took a deep breath, and let the energy flow out of her. When she finally finished, cutting off the flow, she looked back up at Jason and gasped. Jason's broken finger, which had bothered him for weeks, had straightened out. The cut on his collarbone had closed shut. The bruise on his cheekbone had faded. His wounds were already starting to heal.

--

Quickly, Marinette and Jason fell into a routine. Every day after school they would sit down in the back corner of the bakery and Marinette (under the guise of doing her homework) would push more of her life energy into him. It was a slow process. Though Marinette often wished to give Jason just a little more energy every day, to speed up the process, she was constantly aware of the fact that Jason would fuss over her and stop the transfer of energy entirely if he saw any sign of pain or exhaustion on her.

In the months that Marinette had known Jason, he had grown protective over her. Marinette spent most of her time with Jason. He slept in her room on the little couch in the corner, followed her to school, and wore the clothes that she designed for her. Jason changing his clothes was an incredibly embarrassing affair, as the only way for him to be corporeal enough to touch the clothes was for Marinette to be touching him while he did it, leading to averted eyes and blushing on the part of both Marinette and Jason (but it was worth it for Marinette, to saw Jason's relieved smile when he realized that he never had to see the blood-stained clothes that he died in again).

In total, it took eight months from the day that Marinette met Jason to the day that Marinette brought Jason back to life. It started as an uneventful morning. Marinette woke up to her alarm, grumbling as she got ready about how it was inhumane to make teenagers wake up so early. She made herself a coffee while chatting to Jason. They walked to school together, Marinette dodging through the crowded sidewalk while Jason moved straight through people with ease. Marinette got to her desk at school and took a seat next to Alya. Luckily the seat behind Marinette was empty, so Jason sat there when he followed Marinette to school.

Marinette had asked Jason before if it bothered him that he was unable to participate with the rest of the class since they could neither see nor hear him. Jason claimed that he didn't mind. Despite that, if Jason ever whispered comments or questions about the lesson into Marinette's ear, she always made sure to ask the teacher, even if she already knew the answer.

Sitting in on lessons had the additional benefit of teaching Jason French. Marinette did her best to teach him the basics, but immersion was the best teacher - after eight months of hearing and speaking only French, Jason was fluent in the language. Marinette often praised him for his quick learning, which was how she learned that Jason was prone to blushing when he was complimented. Jason always grumbled when Marinette pointed it out, but Marinette found it adorable.

Once school was over on that fateful day, Marinette and Jason walked home together. Marinette set her backpack down at her usual table, sat down, and got to work. It had become an easy routine: put in her headphones and play some calming music, find a quiet place within her brain, and focus on the feeling of energy welling up inside of her. Then take Jason's hands, concentrate on that energy, and push it through her arms and into him. Controlling the direction of the energy was easy - it was controlling the rate that was the difficult part. It moved slowly at first, then all at once it flowed faster than Marinette can control, and it was a race to slow it down before it could all drain out of her.

That day, however, just as the energy started to speed up, the flow of energy abruptly cut off before Marinette even had the chance to react.

"Why did it stop?" asked Jason, looking confused.

The day had been so long coming that Marinette could hardly believe what had happened. "I have nothing left to give you. You're alive again, Jason."

Jason stared at her, wide-eyed. "Are you sure?"

"I'll go test it." Marinette jumped out of her seat and raced towards the front of the bakery, heading for Tom, who was behind the counter. "Papa, can I get a plate of macaroons for me and my friend?"

Tom glanced over at Jason. "Who is he? I don't think I've ever seen him here before."

"He's a foreign exchange student," Marinette lied easily. "His name is Jason."

"Here's a plate for you and Jason." Tom handed her a plate, piled high with macaroons and other sweets.

"I might take Jason and show him around Paris, once we finish our homework. Is that alright?"

"Sure, sweetheart. Just make sure you're home before dinner."

"Of course," chirped Marinette. She made her way back to her table with a bounce in her step. "My papa could see you. You're real."

In that moment, Jason looked lost. He glanced down at his hands, flesh and blood once more. "What do I do now?"

"You're alive again. You can do whatever you want."

Jason took a deep breath. "I've been gone from this world for so long. I want to go home."

Marinette tried not to let the fact that her heart was breaking show on her face. "I have enough birthday money saved up to buy you a plane ticket. You might have trouble getting on a plane without any identification, but I'm sure we can come up with a solution."

For a moment, Jason looked upset. Then, Marinette saw on his face as a realization dawned on him. "I didn't mean alone. Marinette, I want you to come with me."

--

There was no sugar-coating it: Marinette's parents were going to kill her. The plane was half-way across the Atlantic Ocean and Marinette's phone was turned off. There was no way to check, but she was certain that her parents were already sending her frantic texts. By the time the plane landed in Gotham, Tom and Sabine would surely have already called the police.

Marinette could only hope that her and Jason's fake IDs would hold up against the Gotham Airport security officers. While seventeen-year-old Jason could easily pass for nineteen, the age listed on the fake ID for Jasper Townsend, Marinette was worried that she looked young enough to cause suspicion. The age on Marie Davis's ID needed to be eighteen in order to get Marinette onto the plane, so whether she liked it or not she had to look eighteen. Resigned to her lies, Marinette put on a heavy face of makeup and wore three-inch heels on the international flight. It was a little funny, in an ironic way, that her heels had one inch for each year she needed to make up for.

Marinette was still confused about how Jason managed to get them fake IDs in the first place. Jason just shrugged and said that he knew a guy who owed him a favor. It was a side of Jason that Marinette hadn't ever seen before, a side of him that she was deeply curious about.

They had gotten on the plane just as the sun was setting. Marinette had sent her parents one last text message, telling them that she might be a little late. It was the understatement of the century. Marinette had never lied to her parents like that before. All of her past lies had been little things - lying about the number of macaroons she ate, or how late she stayed up the night before - but never a lie about her personal safety. The guilt was killing Marinette. It made her feel sick to her stomach.

Jason placed his hand (flesh and blood) on Marinette's shoulder. "I'm sorry that I'm making you do this."

"I'm not sorry. I would never make you do it alone."

Marinette could practically feel the nervous energy radiating off of Jason as their plane landed in Gotham. "I'm assuming you know where we're going next. Should we rent a car?" she asked once they cleared security (miraculously, no one looked too closely at Marinette's feeble attempt at a disguise. Marinette was glad to switch out her heels for flats and wash off the makeup in the airport bathroom).

Jason shook his head. "We don't need to rent one. He always keeps a car at the airport just in case someone's flying in."

Marinette wasn't sure who he was supposed to be, but Jason had been reticent to share any information about his past, and Marinette wasn't going to pressure him. Jason had been beaten to death, after all. There was a lot of trauma in his past and Marinette wasn't going to force him to share it with her until he was ready.

Jason led her through to the VIP parking lot to a luxury black sedan. He reached underneath the car, feeling at the underside until he pulled out a key. "Bruce keeps a key taped to the underside."

"That seems... irresponsible." Marinette was delicate with her words. Jason had been tense since the plane landed, like a loaded gun. She didn't want to bring up anything that might set him off.

"He also has a tracker planted in the car," Jason remarked offhandedly.

Marinette rolled her eyes at that remark, unable to keep walking on eggshells around the topic of Jason's family. "Irresponsible and paranoid. That's an interesting combination."

Jason laughed. "Just wait until you meet Bruce in person. I promise you, none of what I could tell you about him would ever live up to the real deal."

They got into the car, Jason in the driver's seat and Marinette in the passenger's. Jason's driving was a little rusty at first (which was understandable, given that he hadn't driven in nearly a year), but by the time he got on the highway, it was like he never left the driver's seat.

"Do you think that your family will believe you when you tell them that I brought you back to life?" asked Marinette, her voice quiet. The closer she and Jason got to Jason's house, the more questions Marinette had. It had taken her weeks to rationalize the fact that she could see ghosts, and she was the one seeing them. She couldn't imagine how Jason's family would react.

"Bruce was the one who found my body. There wasn't any faking that. I think he'll believe you."

"We've never talked about what happened to you. I- Is it safe for you to go home?"

Jason nodded, eyes on the road as he pulled off the highway onto a winding road. "Bruce did everything he could to save me, but he was too late. I was there for the funeral. I watched him mourn. I think... I think the reason I never passed on was because he never got over my death, never stopped feeling guilty. I wanted to pass on. I wanted to tell Bruce that I didn't blame him. I went and found you so that you could pass on the message for me. But then, when you could touch me, when you took the time to wash the blood off of my hands, I realized that I might be able to tell Bruce myself. I realized that I could have a second chance. I realized how badly I wanted a second chance, because a second chance at life meant that I had a chance with you."

Marinette blushed, looking over at Jason. "You know that doesn't matter to me. I wouldn't care if you were dead or alive."

With a snort of amusement, Jason said, "You might want to rephrase that."

Marinette rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean. I liked you before you were corporeal. Human or ghost, you're my friend, Jason, and that's never going to change."

"I know that, but I like being alive better. I like being able to hold your hand for real."

Before Marinette could say anything in reply, the car turned. Marinette was too shocked to speak when she saw the size of the house at the end of the driveway. "Welcome to Wayne Manor, Marinette."

Marinette got out of the car first, smoothing down the fabric of her skirt and running her fingers through her hair. She hoped that she looked presentable, even if no one would be looking at her once they saw the resurrected Jason. "Are you coming?"

Jason nodded, taking a deep, steadying breath. "Yeah. I'm ready." Jason got out of the car and slipped his hand (flesh and blood) into Marinette's, and even though questions and doubts were swirling through Marinette's head in a whirlwind of anxiety, she knew that as long as she could hold Jason's hand, everything would be okay.

@maribatmarch-2k21