#Jason todd x gn reader

[allllium]

Sleepy

[ Jason Todd x Reader ]

- Fluff, WC: 1005

- Jason struggles with comfort

You are usually very good at understanding things about your boyfriend, Jason. It took you no time at all to find about his nightly activities and everything about his family. But on the other hand, you can't seem to understand him at all.

You've tried not to ask him about certain things because based on hints from his family, he's had some bad shit happen in his life. More than he's been comfortable telling you so far in your relationship.

However, the more questions you don't ask, the more that seem to pop up.

You haven't asked him why sometimes he flinches away when you touch him but other times he leans in.

You haven't asked him why his hands make fists when you're trying to sleep at night.

You haven't asked him about the scar along his chest or his aversion to certain foods.

All because you're too scared to make him uncomfortable, or maybe because you don't know if you could stomach it.

You're laying bed and waiting for him to come out of the bathroom. Somehow, you take less time getting ready for bed than he does. You suspect it's because he needs a couple minutes to process everything that happened during the day.

As usual you have a million thoughts running through you're head all at the same time. 99% of them are about him.

When he finally comes into your shared bedroom and gets comfortable in bed, you're debating whether or not to talk to him about some of the things you can't get out of your mind.

You decide against it. The last thing you want to do is make him uncomfortable or bring up any bad memories that might affect his ability to sleep through the night.

He can obviously sense your unease, you don't hide it very well.

"What's wrong?" His raspy voice cuts through your thoughts.

"Nothing, sweetheart." You try to play it off.

"Uh huh." He says blankly.

"I'm just thinking about things, is that a crime?"

"Depends on what they are." He pulls you closer to him and wraps his arms around you.

"Nothing bad."

"Hmm."

"What?"

"If someone's bothering you, you should tell me."

"Why is that?"

"Well I have an ability of getting rid of people."

"Oh my God, Jason, you can't joke about that." You look at him in amused shock.

"Who says it's a joke?" He asks, face completely serious.

"Okay no killing people on my behalf, pretty please." You chuckle and he copies. "I'm just trying to figure you out more."

"Why?"

"Cuz I want to know more about you?"

"Like what"

"Right now I want what's bothering you, and know what you want." You pull away from him in order to sit up a little bit.

"I don't want anything at the moment."

"Yes you do. If you didn't want anything your fists wouldn't be clenched and your eyes wouldn't have that look. Like you want to say something but can't."

"You really want to know?" He asks.

"Yeah I really do." You immediately reply.

"A couple months ago while we were watching a movie on the couch, you played with my hair and it was very comforting. And the best sleep I've ever had." He rambles off as quickly as possible.

"That's it? I've been driving myself crazy trying to think of explanations and you're telling me you just want me to play with your hair." You question him in disbelief. It's been months of overthinking thoughts and random mind rampages for something you haven't even noticed you were doing.

"I didn't know how to say it." He shrugs, not looking into your eyes. "It sounds childish."

"No it doesn't. Everyone has different ideas of perfect comfort and I happen to agree with yours. Jason, if you want something from me all you have to do is ask."

You lean over to give him a quick, sweet kiss.

"I'm not used to that."

"Well you better get started."

"Fine, would you play with hair so I can go to sleep, Angel?"

"Only because you asked so nicely."

It takes a second for you both to get rearranged so it's comfortable. You're now laying on your back with Jason half on his side, half on top of you with his head on your chest.

It's almost amusing how quickly he falls asleep but above all else you feel a sense of pride at the fact that you're the one giving him this feeling.

He said this was comforting. He said this was the best sleep he's ever had.

And you're the reason he's having these things.

You stay up longer than you probably should have. This time the thoughts running through your head aren't worrying or overwhelming.

They make you happy. Happy enough to fall into a very sound sleep.

You wake up to coffee on your nightstand and a missing Jason.

"Jason." You call out and he quickly comes running.

When he walks in the room, you immediately begin questioning him.

"What is this?" You ask with an ounce of suspicion. You're worried it's a repayment of some sort.

"It's coffee. A hot caffeinated drink."

"Why?"

"Because you like it and it makes you irritable for far less time in the morning."

"Jason you don't have to do things for me just because I did something for you."

"Yes I do. Because words won't let me explain how grateful I am for you."

"Since when are you so sappy?"

He sits on the bed next to you.

"Don't be mean to me right now, I'll take it away."

"Fine. Continue your speech."

"I know it's a small thing for you but I haven't felt comfort like you give me in a very long time. Maybe even ever. And I need you to know that."

"I can't tell you how happy I am to give that to you."

The next thing you know, you both have giant grins on your faces and you're both happier than ever before.

- send requests!!

[charliedakotariley]

A hilarious moment from a fic by @sanguineterrain / @sanguinelibrary that I requested.

Even after days I can't stop thinking about his reaction without laughing. Author, you're my hero. ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🔥

People, pls read this piece (and others, which are just as beautiful as this one), the most human feeling Jason I encountered in fics in a hot minute and I absolutely love it.

❤️❤️❤️

The author put the link into the comments.

[lazy-ahh]

HOME IS WHERE YOU ARE

pairing jason todd x gender neutral reader

the blood on his gloves isn't yours. the ache in his chest is. it's been there since the first time you kissed him - this relentless, terrifying need that claws at his ribs whenever he's away from you.

the city sprawled beneath him like a living thing—glistening with rain-slick streets and fractured neon reflections, breathing in the way only gotham could. the air smelled like exhaust and distant rain, the kind of chill that seeped into bones no matter how many layers you wore. jason perched on the edge of a rooftop, one knee drawn up, his helmet resting beside him like a discarded thought. the wind tugged at his hair, sharp and insistent, but he barely felt it.

his fingers flexed against the concrete ledge, rough beneath his gloves. he should be moving. should be working. but his mind was elsewhere, tangled up in the warmth of your sheets, the quiet hum of your voice, the way your breath hitched when he kissed that spot just below your ear—

god.

all he could think about was you.

the way your voice softened when you said his name, syllables curling around it like a secret. the way your hands always found his, fingers slotting together like they were made to fit, like you were afraid he’d vanish if you didn’t keep him anchored. the way you smiled at him—soft, fond, like he was something good, something whole, even when he knew the truth of what he was.

he exhaled, slow, watching his breath fog in the cold air.

he missed you.

it was stupid. ridiculous. he’d seen you barely a handful of hours ago, before he’d dragged himself out into the gotham night. you’d kissed him slow, lazy, like time itself had unraveled just for the two of you—like he was something worth savoring. (and you, stubborn as ever, would argue that time spent on him wasn’t wasted, not ever. "time with you," you’d say, voice all soft and sure, "is the only time that matters.") your hands had lingered on his chest, thumbs tracing the edge of his kevlar like you were memorizing the shape of him, and for one reckless, dizzying moment, he’d almost said fuck it and stayed. almost let the city burn if it meant another hour tangled in your sheets, in your warmth, in you.

and now here he was, heart aching like some lovesick idiot, like he hadn’t spent half his life pretending he didn’t need anything at all.

a shout echoed from the alley below, sharp and panicked. the sound snapped him back into his body, into the night, into the work waiting for him.

right.

work to do.

(´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

blood bloomed across his knuckles, dark and slick, painting the cracked leather of his gloves. the sharp snap of bone beneath his fists echoed in his ears, followed by a choked-off scream that dissolved into whimpers. the air was thick with it—the copper sting of blood, the acrid sweat of fear, the gunpowder clinging to his jacket like a second skin. this was easy. this was simple. this was the language he spoke fluently, the only one that ever made sense in the jagged edges of his world.

but then—

silence.

just for a breath. just long enough for his mind to turn traitor.

how could you love him? how could you look at him—really look—and not flinch away? he was a patchwork of scars and fury, all sharp edges and half-healed wounds, a weapon honed by pain and rage. he knew what he was. knew the weight of the blood on his hands, the ghosts that clung to his shadow.

and yet—

you touched him like he was something precious. like he wasn’t already ruined. your fingers traced the scars on his skin like they were something to cherish, your voice soft and steady even when he was anything but. you held him like he was fragile, like he’d break if you held him too tight, and that was the cruelest joke of all—because he was already broken, and you were the only thing holding him together.

he didn’t deserve you.

he didn’t deserve the way your laughter warmed him from the inside out, didn’t deserve the way you sighed his name like it was a prayer, didn’t deserve the way you looked at him like he was something good.

but christ, he wanted to.

(´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

the bike roared beneath him as he carved through gotham's veins, tires eating up asphalt as streetlights bled into golden streaks in his periphery. his body ached with the familiar symphony of bruises and cracked ribs, his mind weighed down by the night's violence, but none of it mattered because all he could think was you, you, you—the phantom memory of your hands in his hair, your laughter ringing in his ears, the way your breath hitched when he kissed you like he was starving for it.

the apartment was dark when he finally stumbled through the door, save for the flickering blue glow of some late-night infomercial playing to an empty room. there you were, sprawled across the couch like some domestic daydream, tangled in that godawful batman blanket alfred had gifted you as a joke (the one jason pretended to despise but secretly adored because it meant you were warm, because it meant you were here).

he leaned against the doorframe, just watching. memorizing the way your chest rose and fell in steady rhythm, the way your lashes fluttered with some dream he'd never know, the way your fingers twitched like they were searching for him even in sleep.

then you stirred, blinking up at him with sleep-heavy eyes, and your lips curled into that soft, drowsy smile that never failed to unravel him stitch by stitch.

"hey, red hood," you murmured, voice rough with sleep but laced with amusement. "save any kittens from trees tonight?"

he huffed a laugh, already shrugging off his jacket. "nah, just a few assholes from getting their teeth kicked in. you know, the usual community service."

you grinned, shifting to make room for him. "gotham's lucky to have you."

"gotham's a pain in my ass," he grumbled, but he was already sinking onto the couch beside you, his body gravitating toward yours like it was the only thing that made sense.

his chest tightened when you reached for him, fingers brushing the fresh cut on his cheekbone with a tenderness that threatened to undo him completely.

"missed you," you whispered, like it was a secret.

he leaned into your touch, pressing his forehead to yours, breathing you in—laundry detergent and that stupidly expensive shampoo you loved and something so inherently you it made his ribs ache. "missed you more."

you laughed, quiet and warm and his, pulling him close until there was no space left between you.

home wasn't four walls or a roof or a city that never slept.

home was you.

always you.

1.1k words, short and sweet, all just about how jason misses you every time he's away from you for longer than five minutes. like. chronically. pathetically. scrap that, three minutes. okay, scrap that too, he'd miss you if you weren't in his sight after five heartbeats- (this man is a 6'2" weapon of mass destruction who folds like a lawn chair the second you smile at him. i respect it and i NEED IT.)

[wingedblessing]

JASON TODD HEADCANONS : ESTABLISHED COUPLE VER! a/n: hey guys... erm so what if i told u that i may or may not have forgotten to upload this a week b4 i went out of town n when i DID get back, the electricity went out for a few days.... smiley face. and that this post is a filler too. heh...

his love language is annoying you, yes. if u think he could get anymore insufferable other then being alive, you are deeply wrong.

he would gladly disturb you over anything, from asking the dumbest questions while knowing the actual answers for it, even while you were expecting him to NOT test your patience, to just linger around you while you do the most mundane tasks.

example: him repeatedly asking you to let him try whatever you were cooking, even though he'd already tasted it ten times already. you unfortunately love him too much. depressing, i know.

he also tries to act nonchalant or mysterious in public even while you two are together, you are not him bro. 👎👎

hogs all of the blanket, or accidentally start a blanket war with you sleeping besides on your shared bed everytime he's asleep - he doesn't even know that he steals the blanket in his sleep.

you attempted to do a cute couple trend with him, keyword: attempted. let's just say that you two are never doing a couple trend in public ever again if you don't wanna end up embarrased.

[©]:; don't copy, alter, or repost any of my works on all platforms, including tumblr too .

[redsakura101]

Quiet Affections: Dead Roses

Jason Todd x Reader If you'd like to you can Read the Prologue. Quiet Affections:Silent Sorrows

Inspired by the quote Dead Roses: by AK

"Why do you keep dead roses?" he asks “I cherish dead roses as they live between the pages of my books. I believe, a fresh rose is loved for its beauty but the dead one is beyond beauty. A fresh rose is smelled for its scent but a dead one – for the memories. A fresh rose gives the feel of softness but a dead one gives the feel of the past. A fresh rose lives for days but a dead one – forever.”

In which Jason's love keeps and preserves the flowers he's given them over the years of their relationship.

word count: ~1.8k

In a moment of peace as his hand gently rubbed circles into your arm while you laid comfortably with him sprawled along on your couch.

After having spent the last few weeks unpacking, you’d both finally finished and were taking a much needed respite in your now shared apartment, a blend of both yours and Jason’s belongings - filled the space with a sense of home.  

In your hands was a well loved copy of Pride & Prejudice, its pages littered with underlinings of passages and notes in the margins, some were philosophical and others were humorous.

A combination of markings that both you and Jason had made since you started this little tradition of reading with each other, an intimate little book club.

A pastime you’d both come to enjoy since being together.

Sometimes he would read, that was always your favourite, as you’d listen to every word as though it were honey trickling in and soothing your soul. Though seeing his eyes gaze at you fondly while you read made you feel like everything else faded away, his body relaxed as the tension melted away, did come as a close second.  

It was during this time while you read to him that he asked, 

“Why do you keep dead roses?” 

An innocent question, one that had been ruminating in Jason’s mind, since his eyes first traced the pressed flower in your hand and the other ones dotted around the apartment. 

Some were placed in little frames picked up from op shops, while others filled glass jars tied with little ribbons - some even had labels, most likely the names of the flowers. 

He’d noticed in some of the other books that you owned or even some of his favourite ones that there would be little handmade bookmarks infused with pressed flowers. 

Now thinking about it, over the course of your relationship he’d noticed that slowly, but steadily it seemed this collection had grown. All coming to the forefront of his mind seeing them all unpacked and in the open of your shared apartment.

“In fact, why do you have a lot of dead flowers?”

Your eyes flick to follow his gaze as it lands on the pressed rose in hand, he notices that your eyes glaze over as though reminiscing and then sees as they glance to the other flowers in their home, before falling back to Jason. If possible you seem to curl even closer into his embrace turning slightly as you raise the rose before him. 

“Do you not like them?” you tilt your head, never having realised Jason would notice them. But you suppose it's a side effect of dating one of Gotham’s vigilantes, they’re very observant. 

He shakes his head and nuzzles his head into your neck breathing in your scent, “no, just wondering why?”  

You melt under his touch as your smile widens, 

“I cherish dead roses as they live between the pages of my books. I believe, a fresh rose is loved for its beauty but the dead one is beyond beauty.” Your hand clasps his hand that is one wrapped around your waist as you gently rub your thumb against his hand – almost as though inferring the words applied not just to roses but to Jason itself.

“A fresh rose is smelled for its scent but a dead one – for the memories. A fresh rose gives the feel of softness but a dead one gives the feel of the past. A fresh rose lives for days but a dead one – forever.”

You let the words settle in the air before continuing to say, “I always loved that quote. And in a way I always thought that by keeping these roses and flowers it was about preserving our love” 

You will never know the extent of how deeply these words affected Jason, his mind blank with what to say. You never failed to surprise him, your unending love and support despite all the mess he came with. You were always there. Through the thick and thin, you stood by him as he worked through the ghosts of his past and the hauntings that came with them.

He didn’t know what he did to deserve you but he will forever be grateful. 

Before he could even begin to try to express his unending gratitude for you and the peace you offer his soul, you continue on.

“Did you know that you gave me all these flowers. Every single one of these dried and pressed flowers I own, they’re because of you.” 

Now while his brothers may argue to believe that there is not a single bone in his body capable of romance, they would be mistaken. As demonstrated by you and him having been together for almost 3 years. 

Throughout your budding romance, Jason always struggled with conveying how he felt – coming up short as his words would get stuck in his throat. So he had to find other ways to express his love for you, long before he could find it in himself to let his walls come down. 

Little actions, gestures to show he cared for you, like always ensuring you were comfortable by giving you his jacket when you were cold, bringing you homemade chocolate chip cookies when he knew you needed a little comfort, and as you both were getting more serious he would spend more time over at your apartment and would cook for you, he'd fix up things at your apartment like fixing the squeaky door in your bathroom or the leaky faucet in your kitchen, or simply just make your coffee or tea. 

You went at his pace, never pushing him further than he could handle. It was new territory for both you and Jason. 

Sometimes when you had gone through a rough patch or a misunderstanding, you’d find a little posy of flowers either by your door or on your balcony typically of hyacinths, olive leaves with hydrangeas among the bundle.  

You’d carefully placed these in a vase to admire – even without a note you’d always know these were from Jason. It was during this time a friend you had over noted the meaning of these flowers. 

Purple hyacinths and blue hydrangeas are a symbol of sincerity, an apology of heartfelt emotion. The pairing with the olive branches asks for peace and forgiveness. 

This absolutely made your heart melt. At times when you were unsure of how Jason felt for you – you’d remember the flowers, the thought he put into the choices to convey to you what he couldn’t with words. 

This is where your little hobby began.

With each little posy, bouquet or flower he’d gifted you, either by being left for you to find or he had handed them to you directly –  you’d try to learn the meaning behind them. From endless dives into google, to eventually buying some books about the meaning of flowers. 

It felt like discovering a secret code. 

Honeysuckles for devotion and affection,

Sunflowers for adoration and joy,

Canterbury bells for gratitude,

Freesias for trust,

Baby’s breath for sincerity and hope,

And an array of many more beautiful flowers, made even more lovely through their meanings.

As your relationship grew and evolved so did the meanings behind the flowers he’d gift you.

Your most treasured were the forget-me-nots he had given you, just a gift for no particular reason, neither of you had said it aloud but could both tell you were falling for each other. This was cemented for you with the forget-me-nots as you learnt they symbolised true love and respect. 

So with each gifted flower you took great care for them, and when they eventually wilted you would find creative ways to preserve them. 

Placing them in jars, pressing them in bookmarks to even framing particular ones that meant a great deal to you. You kept them all. A love preserving. 

It became second nature to you, a habit you had no intention of breaking. 

The revelation that you had found a way to keep all the flowers he’d given you over the years, that you took the time and care to cherish each little flower. 

His body freezes at learning this as he blinks a little shocked by the tenderness of your words, you had taken the time to learn all the things he couldn’t say, decoding every meaning behind his flowers.

He thought it was a quiet secret, one that remained unnoticed by you, not that he minded. But now knowing you had always known what he meant, what he felt. It made his heart speed up. 

His arms hug you a little tighter, his eyes pool with love, kissing your cheek tenderly as a little smirk forming upon his lips. 

“Didn’t realise you were so sentimental, doll” 

“And I didn’t realise you were such a romantic, what would your family say? The rough and tough Jason Todd giving flowers with such a deep and thoughtful meaning – they’d never believe me,” you both fall into a fit of laughs over imagining his family learning how thoughtful he could be. 

“If you tell them, I promise you there will be no cookies for you” he playfully reprimands, you just look at him with big pleading eyes, to which he sighs a reluctant huff. He could never resist you. 

His mind drifts back to the flowers, his eyes soften “I didn’t think. I never thought that you knew what they meant. I just - ugh, it was always tougher for me to say what you meant to me, what you mean to me, it was easier to just silently tell you through flowers” your hands continue to glide soothing patterns against his as he speaks. 

“Sometimes I have kept my feelings to myself because I could find no language to describe them in”

“That’s Jane Austen isn’t it?” you state recognising his words for the ones of one of his favourite authors. 

His smile simply widens as he begins to pepper kisses along your cheek, trailing your jawline and neck. Showering you with love.  A laugh bubbles from within you as you turn into his embrace to hug him properly.

His lips finally touch yours, slow and deep – conveying his feelings through another unspoken language. His hands gently trace patterns along the curve of your back, grounding him in this moment.

You pull back as you lean your forehead against his, eyes holding his gaze as the quiet timbre of his voice fills your ears once more “I will always be here for you, even when words fail me and I can only show you with my actions or with flowers, I want you to  know that I love you”

“I love you too Jay, always, even when words fail,” you words dripping with complete devotion that rivals the adoration found in his.

Your eyes close and just take in this moment., “One would think you’ve gone soft Jay” you lightly tease.

“Only for you doll, only for you.” He punctuates with a delicate kiss to your temple.

You spend the afternoon entangled in each other’s arms taking in each other’s warmth and presence, book now laid forgotten on the coffee table, the page marked with the dried rose that sparked this revelation.

As he hears your gentle snores, his eyes trace your features taking in detail and committing it all to memory. In this moment Jason makes a note to give you all the flowers in the world for as long as you’ll have him, if only to show you just how much you mean to him. 

This was just a little thing I had playing around in my mind, I've never really written anything for Jason Todd before but it felt like this kind of worked. Could definitely see him be a more actions speak louder than words kind of guy. I wrote a prologue if you want to read more, Quiet Affections Silent Sorrows (Part 1) & (Part 2)

Also updated note: I did not think this little story would get this much attention…it’s actually wild to me, thanks for loving it 💕

[jscrawls]

Not gonna lie kinda loving the Jason x Addams!reader x john ship, can’t imagine Bruce’s reaction

Omg y'all are killing me with the poly ship 😭

(it amuses me greatly)

🔹🔹🔹

Surprisingly Bruce doesn't find out for a long while, between Jason's avoidance of the manor and Bruce as a whole and John's surprisingly affective efforts to avoid him. (John's hardly scared of him, he just doesn't want the headache of getting cornered by the paranoid bastard more than he has to on their occasional overlapping jobs.)

You don't spill the beans in your weekly tea sessions with Alfred, and you don't have near enough electronics in your home for the bats to tap so they don't find out that way either.

It's actually your darling little niece and nephew who let the cat out the bag.

They were staying with you because there was a month long summer camp in Gotham with "views to die for" (it was outside of Grundy's swamp.) but the kids didn't wanna sleep there at night, they weren't allowed to torment the other children or teach them how to make deadly traps, unfortunately. The camp counselors didn't like it so the options were either they were kicked out of camp or they stayed somewhere else at night where they weren't unsupervised, being the good relative you are you offered your place to them to assuage both the summer camp counselors and your dear cousin and their family.

Pugsley and Wednesday weren't aware of the.... Tension between your partners and the neighbor though, so one evening after growing bored of playing with Pamela's poisonous plants and Harleys hyenas they wound up in a certain someone's yard.

"well hello there kids, are you two lost? how'd you make it over the fence over there?"

Bruce slowly approaches the two kids, one looks near Damian's age possibly and the other one is even younger, probably eight or nine if he has to guess. They don't look frightened or anything so hopefully they're not runaways, God forbid people start dropping strays in his yard just because he has an adoption tendency...

The younger one, the boy, blinks slowly and gives him a confused look. His baby fat full face tilting like a puppy. "We're not lost mister, we know exactly where we are."

All the older girl says is. "your fence needs more barbed wire."

Bruce blinks slowly, okay.... Not lost is good at least?

".... Alright. Where did you come from? I can call someone for you...."

The girl silently points her finger, a grave expression on her face as they all glance across the hill at the neighboring house that's half overgrown with vines and weeds.

"our relative lives right over there."

The girl sounds so dead serious that Bruce wonders if she's telling the truth about that, (name) Addams couldn't be serious if their life depended on it...

"...I didn't realize they had anyone over, how about I take you two back to their house?" He's trying to maintain a calm and friendly demeanor with them anyways, they're just kids after all. They shouldn't cross a road by themselves.

"that would be acceptable. right pugsley? Uncle Jason and John should be home soon. We can play stab-knife with them."

The girl straightens up and smoothes down her black dress like she's preparing for a throwdown, her dark brows furrowed in a glare the likes of which would be more fitting on a man preparing for war.

The boy smiles and latches onto Bruce's hand while already babbling excitedly In that way kids do when something exites them, but Bruce is frozen for a solid minute. "..... Uncle Jason and... Uncle John?"

He must be jumping to conclusions, those are extremely common names after all. The girl is already stalking away as she answers, barely even sparing him a glance over her shoulder.

"our relative, (name's) partners."

The boy again nods, backing his sister up quickly. "Mhmm, they're so cool! They told me they've both been buried before and died, it's awesome sauce!"

Bruce thinks he's gonna punch (name) or John into a coma.

🔹🔹🔹

Both kids knock on the door, the one apparently named Wednesday gives a few firm taps while pugsley stretches both his hands up above his head and slaps he's hands on the door repeatedly while giggling, he keeps this up until someone unlocks it and opens the door.

"oi knock it off, I was wandering where you-oh...tits."

John doesn't even bother to correct his language in front of the Rugrats when he meets the pissed off stare of Bruce Wayne on his partners stoop, he considers slamming the door in his face as hard as he can but.... The niece and nephew are standing there expectantly. Damn it all to hell.

"you're dating my son." Bruce grabs the edge of the door and starts to pull it open, John holds onto it just as tightly, he wants that barrier between them after all.

"who me? You know I don't 'date' luv. That's um, too many strings and... Whatnot."

Pugsley gasps and also his hands against his cheeks, both men near forgot the two were even there.

"are you leaving (name) and Jason!?" The kid nearly shrieks, are those tears forming in his eyes? That one's definitely related to (name).

Wednesday just looks slightly disgusted as she watches them both grabbing the door in a death grip, she rolls her eyes and starts pushing on both of them to try to wriggle her way through the small gap in the door.

"I'll inform relative (name) of this change. Come along pugsley, they'll want comfort."

John let's go of the door with a loud sigh, choosing to follow and plead with the child and preteen instead of fighting to keep Bruce out. "Now hold on a moment, hold your horses girlie. You're ruining my little white lie here."

Wednesday pauses and glares between the two men critically. "You're lying to the neighbor.... Are you ashamed or something?"

"of course not!"

Bruce slams the door roughly behind him. "You should be. Really? My son? You and the..." He glances at the two kids, who are again watching them silently. ".... Person, who lives here need to leave Jason alone, for good."

John rolls his eyes and turns on his heel to walk further into the manor, he does not wanna this conversation like this. Bruce and the kids follow after him.

"last I checked your boy doesn't even live with you, he's a grown man luv. Maybe you should keep that in mind before you do regrettable things in front of the little ones."

Bruce is practically grinding his jaw as he restrains himself, this would look so much different if the two kids weren't involved first. The slimy bastard surely knows it based on the way he seems to keep at least one in-between him and Bruce at all times.

"you say that like you're a normal, stable man that's trustworthy around him, how'd you and the Addams even talk him into this!?"

"talk who into what? Oh pugsley Wednesday there you are! I see you brought Mr Wade over for some afternoon poison!" You coo at the kids as you walk into the foyer, a big smile on your face as you happily wave at Bruce despite the obvious tension in the room.

Pugsley runs over to you and throws his arms around you and sags his weight against you dramatically. "Are you and Uncle Jason breaking up?"

You blue-screen a little at that.

".... Uhh, what? Could you say that again pugs?"

John sidles over to your side quietly, unsure if he should say something or hope that if he holds still long enough maybe Bruce will forget he's there and leave.

"(name) you and John can't leave Jason, mother was making a voodoo doll for him already." Wednesday pipes up, the girl already making herself comfortable with your table snacks on the couch.

".... Am I missing something here?"

John leans over to whisper into your ear. ".... Bruce is very upset about our... Proclivities with Jason, gorgeous."

Bruce frowns and crosses his arms over his chest. "Considering both of your track record, I don't think you're stable enough for Jason. Take that however either of you will."

"instability makes romance all the more whimsical, does it not? I don't see what your issue is, Mr Wade." You shrug and walk over to Wednesday -pugsley still clinging to you- to pour them a little arsenic after their outside venture.

"or you create an echo chamber for bad habits and harmful mindsets, Jason doesn't need this influence." Bruce gestures around your foyer, at the spell book collections on your bookshelf, the labeled poisons in glass cases, John, you.

You take a steadying breath and turn to face the man with your signature too-wide grin on your lips.

"Mr Wade, I respect you as much as any man respects a fellow mentally deranged violence obsessed lunatic, but I have to disagree with you you here. I want the best for both Jason and John, happiness, understanding, support, I myself don't have children but those are all things I would want my darling little niece and nephew to find if they ever chose to pursue romance. Don't you want that for Jason?"

"I...." Bruce trails off, glancing over your shoulder with an unreadable look on his face.

When you turn Jason's standing at the top of the staircase, watching all of you silently.

🔹🔹🔹

| m.list |

A/n: this got a little too long so I'm ending it here, sorry anon! This was fun so I hope you enjoy 💜💜💜

@viilan

[chosokamosbf]

(N)SFW JASON TODD / RED HOOD HCs.

☆ 18+ only/no minors.

WARNINGs: 18+, gn (gender non-implied)! reader, daddy/mommy kink, mentions of abuse (jason nor reader are doing it), minor mention of blood, sub/dom, pain play, fear play, "prey/predator," brat taming, reader is referred to as "prince(ss)" and "sweetheart" once.

WORD COUNT: 900-ish+

Based on canon, I firmly believe he's on the ace spectrum, specifically demisexual. And even then, he rarely experiences sexual attraction at all for his partners. This isn't because he doesn't love them (enough) or any other assumptions similar to that; it just doesn't happen much.

Furthermore, as much as he'll indulge you here and there if you do, (sexual) intimate moments with Jason would be far and few between, making them all the more important to him.

He's a switch, leaning on dom and top. Mostly because he likes the control and is more comfortable that way. Getting him to be submissive instead is a gradual endeavor. He doesn't hate it; it just takes a lot of patience and trust.

First and foremost on actual kinks, I think Jason has a thing for "daddy," both on the receiving and giving ends. He likes the title, and he's definitely the type to whisper something like, "C'mere, sweetheart. Give daddy a kiss." in even private, innocuous moments just to mess with you.

(Note: I don't think he'd have as much of a mommy kink because—y'know.)

Rough sex is a top favorite of his. This goes hand in hand with play wrestling as a form of foreplay, breathing heavily down on his partner just to continue that energy into bed with sweat-slick bodies. It's less about "winning," and more about being allowed to confide in someone in a way and the fun that can come with it. He wouldn't be against being the sub in this situation either, even if his partner is weaker than him, because he knows how important control can be in bed, so he'll let them win. Sometimes. He trusts you, and he wants you both to feel good.

Degradation/praise wise, he'll give either out depending on the moment. He's going to tease and utter dirty shit like, "C'mooon, prince(ss). You're sounding like a real whore for someone who didn't want it a couple minutes ago—" if you tried to struggle against. It depends more on the moment than position because he could be pounding into you and huffing out praise right next to your ear with what little air he's catching, to riding you, telling you to keep up while his head is already thrown back.

He enjoys pegging a lot, but as always, it's going to take some convincing to get him to comply.

Brat taming is another go-to of his, along with sub/dom. On the other end, it seems to be a near equal opposite—he's not into it, and it can get uncomfortable real fast. There's a few times he'll indulge himself, and they're all after more intense days to sort of solidify the trust he has in you. You're not going to hurt him; he's still in control in a way.

He doesn't seem like he'd like being on the receiving end of any sort of pain play. He already deals with chronic pain on a day-to-day basis. To have it overwhelm one of the few aspects of intimacy that he loves and simultaneously take his head off things for once just doesn't seem like it'd be enjoyable for him. No, on the giving end—

(Note: I'm not into pain play myself, nor do I even know what even makes it enjoyable for people, so I'll be segmenting this with fear play and "prey/predator.")

It wouldn't be something he'd ever bring up, far from it, but if it's what you like, he'll gladly take a knife in a steady hand to softly trace it down from your stomach to your underwear. In a smile almost cruel, he'd drag it across just enough so a few drops could be licked back up if you asked nicely enough again.

Jason knows you're just asking for it if you're weaker than him and bring up the idea of a different kind of foreplay. He'd pick a place, somewhere with a lot of spots you could try to hide away and run to (an abandoned office of sorts is the best go; he's not going to risk infections).  Just for him to stalk, pin you down with ease. If the spot he found his little prey in isn't satisfactory (or clean) enough, he'd have no qualms settling you over his shoulder like a sack and manhandling you where he wants it.

He definitely isn't going to go too far, though. As well-trained as he is, he's going to be especially attentive after any scenes involving that. Sadism isn't a big one for him. He'll enjoy it in the moment but then feel real guilty afterwards, so, just as a reminder, aftercare goes both ways.

I don't know why some people think he's into "dark" (ex. pedo stuff such as ageplay and actual rape.) kinks when he's canonically and literally has hunted down murdered several (sexual) abusers before. If you try to break boundaries, he's going to be reconsidering the relationship, and quite possibly if he even knew you as a person.

On a lighter note, consent is a big thing for him, and he's also big on aftercare. A go-to would be a bath for the both of you (stuffing the sheets in the washer right before and bandaging any "scratches" if need be.), then cuddling. Depending on whether he has the energy, he'll pop something in the microwave real quick. (Takeout is usually a last resort because the last thing he wants while enjoying the afterglow with a partner is social interaction with a stranger.)

If you wear make-up and it gets ruined by the end, like in the latter part of the previous section, if he can, he's going to help you wipe off the mess and maybe help you reapply it as a form of care.

[timwhore]

Event ; Kinktober - Day 1, Wax play

Pairing : Jason Todd x GN!Reader

Content / Warning : Big chunk of the fic is pre-activity talk (reader introduce the kink and talks / sets boundaries with Jason around it, because that is a huge part of kinks / BDSM that i wanted to put in at least one of my piece for kinktober) and there is aftercare, no penetrative sex ( wax play + hndjob ), reader is the one leading and Jason is the one on the receiving end, Jason call reader 'sweetie', its said that Jason is usually the one giving / you are usually on the receiving end, a bit of nipples teasing toward the end. (this is 1.5K words, wrote in around 3hours, on the 30sept, its 10am please be indulgent lol)

Jason was a bit taken off guard when you asked him if he had any 'kinks' he wished to engage in, sexuality was not a taboo for him, and it's not like you both never did anything sexual or engaged in not vanilla activity in the bedroom. He just didn't expect to get asked this question, at 8am while he was drinking a very bitter - and honestly disgusting - cup of coffee after sleeping for a grand total of 5 hours, courtesy of a certain group of thugs deciding to cause problem in the dead of the nigh - and courtesy of being the vigilante that had to deal with them.

He took a second before answering a simple 'uh maybe ?', before returning to his cup of liquid dirt not expecting you to continue this conversation that you seemingly started out of nowhere. But much to his dismay you continued, 'because, I've been wanting to ... uhm, to try something out ...!' with a sly smile on your face.

Jason decide to entertain you, why not after all ? It's just 8am on a weekend, what the worst that could happen ?

He nodded, encouraging you to continue, but instead of continuing speaking you pulled a candle from g-d knows where, and set it in front of Jason. He looked at it with a questioning look, he grabbed the candle, 'So, you mind expanding or ?' he asked.

'Well ... I'd like to try wax play ! And you kinda need a candle for that ...' You answered, before waiting a second you continued, 'This one is like, ... skin safe ? Not harmful, so safe for ... that kind of stuff ! I think its made out of beewax ? Or soy, either one of the two', he nodded once again, signalling that he understood. He took a long sip of coffee, finishing his cup, 'Okay, so basically I pour, uh, wax on you and that's the kink ?', before adding with a sly grin 'You did your researcher uh ?'.

'I was actually thinking about you, being on the, uh receiving end ? If you are okay with that ! Couldn't want to force you into anything, and that's why I asked if you had anything you wanted to do in the bedroom.' You stopped for a second before continuing 'It's like a two way street that way!'.

Jason stared at you deadpan for a moment, he did not expect that, usually you were the one that 'received' and he was the one that 'gave'. He gave it a thought and just said a simple 'Huh, if that's what you want sweetie, I'm open to it.'

Truly, he was open to it, what you proposed still seemed relatively tame and he could be lying if he said it didn't sound appealing.

(still havent found a way to just do a timeskip, sorry for the immersion breaking parentheses but this is better than just starting the next scene directly in the bedroom, later in the day)

Jason was seated on the edge of the bed, looking the set up you carefully put together, on the bed you laid a towel, because obviously neither of you two wanted to get wax onto your bed, but the towel wasn't one of those rough one, you had carefully chosen one that was soft but couldn't be missed if ruined. On your bedside table was placed the candle you showed him earlier, and on his, there was an somewhat damp rag and a small glass of water and a small tube of burn cream - which you simply took out of your first aid kit as well as a box of tissues, on the floor there was a larger bucket of water, off to the side, as you said it was 'Just in case something happen, you cannot be too sure!'.

As he heard your footsteps coming closer toward the door he decided to already strip himself of his shirt, you opened the door, entering the door with in hands a packet of matches, 'Found them ! They were actually still in the kitchen drawer', you said while making your way over to the bed.

You sat next to him and reached over to grab the candle, you looked up and smiled at Jason, 'You're sure you still want that ? Of course we can still stop in the middle of it but, are you sure right now ?', Jason grinned and answered, 'I am a 100 percents sure sweetie, don't worry, I trust you'.

You took a match out of the book and lighted it up, you brought the burning match over to the wix of the candle, as the wix took the flame, you brought the match over you and softly blow on it, blowing out the fire. You decided to let the candle burn a bit before using it, to make sure there was nothing wrong it, in the meanwhile, you signalled to Jason to lie down with his head on your tights, you brushed your fingers through his hair lovingly.

You took the candle in one of your hand and dropped a bit of wax on your other hand to check if it was good to go, you hummed and then looked at Jason, 'Okay where I go', you leaned the candle over Jason chest, the candle wax slowly dropped, drop by drop of red coloured wax fell on Jason chest.

You tilted the candle back up, Jason did let out a small hiss when the first drop reached him but he seemed fine, his face was a bit flushed and when his eyes meet yours, he gave you a small smirk. You took it as a sign to continue, tilting once again the candles over his chest, this time lower down it, and for a bit longer this time, 'Are you enjoying that baby ?', you asked, more so to tease him more than anything. Jason had been very aloof, and made it seem like he was going along it for you - that it didn't brother him to try but it was not something that he was very into, but he was betrayed by the tent that had formed in his pant.

You put down the candle on the bedside table for a bit, which earned you a small whine from Jason, but ignoring it, you reached over to unbutton his pant, and pull his penis out of his boxer. You gently gave it a few strokes, making beads of pre-cum get on your hand, before grabbing the candles once again, Jason face's was now flushed, he was groaning at the loss of your cold-ish hand on his dick which made him feel a weird, pleasurable contrast between the feverish sensation on his chest and the feeling of your hand on his lower-half.

While stroking him, you let a few drops of candles wax hit his body again, this time going higher, toward his nipples, a more sensible part of Jason's body.

Jason moaned softly as he felt the heat propage to his nipples, he rutted his dick against your hand, and started to lowly beg you to 'go faster' 'harder' 'more please'.

You decided to oblige him, you didn't want to drag this session on too much, after all this was your first one, and Jason was starting to look clearly overstimulated.

You continued to let the candles wax drip onto Jason, and started rubbing him faster, you softly blew on the candle wix and set it down on the bedside table. You continued to stroke him and used the hand that used to hold the candle to tease Jason's nipples, this tipped him over the edge, making Jason blow his load all over your hand and his chest.

You went to grab a tissue to clean your hand and ran your hand through his hair once again, 'Baby, are you okay ? Do you want me to clean you up ?', Jason was clearly spent, and he just nodded while closing his eyes.

You took another tissue to clean his cum off him first, then you strategically decided to first scratch, gently, the wax off his chest, once that was done you took the damp rag, and run it on his chest, Jason shrugged from the feeling.

'Baby, sit up' you told him, he groaned softly but did as you told, you handed him the glass of water that was sitting on his bedside table. 'Drink up, you need to hydrate your inside ~', you said teasingly. Jason did not brother to answer and simply took the glass and took a long sip of water before giving it back to you.

You grabbed the burn cream, 'I'm gonna put some cream on you 'kay ? Couldn't want your chest to be all burned, could we ?', you ruffled his hair once again, enjoying how calm and just submissive he was. You opened the cream and took a small dab of cream and spread it on his chest, first near his nipples, causing Jason to shivers, then spread the rest of his chest, where the rest of the wax was.

'It's done, you should let the cream sit and absorb, so why not take a nap, while I clean up ?' You asked him, giving him a small kiss on his check. Jason once again simply nodded and just let his body fell on the bed, where the towel still was, 'Well, won't get that back for now I guess' you thought. Before getting up from the bed and going to clean and put everything where it belongs.

[mosslikeschaos]

watching Captain America, so ofc im thinking about DC. ?

☆☆

Thinking about a tired Jason, who can't help but want to slump into the sofa and just sit in silence with his lover.

A tired and sore Jason who lays his head on their lap, sighing in contentment when they start running their fingers through his hair.

A now almost sleepy Jason who just hums when they ask if he wouldnt rather go to bed and instead of laying in the sofa watching something dull on the TV.

An asleep Jason, a little too tall to lay comfortably on the sofa without his feet falling off the edge.

A partner who rolls their eyes, covering him with a blanket, then resumes running their fingers through his hair. It comforts both of them.

Im thinking of a domestic Jason whos comfortable with his partner <3

[prismuffin]

Hey, I saw that your asks are open.

What if Jason Todd got really hurt doing a mission, and had to get a bunch of stitches and surgery.

How do you think he would react waking up, seeing Reader cuddled up to him in his medical bed?

Like Reader was very worried about him, so would sleep cuddling Jason, just incase something wrong happens. In his past, he died and he when he came back alive no one was there to help him out of his grave. So Reader never felt his side, so Jason could wake up knowing he wasn't left behide again.

This is so depressing 😭 but I think that-

Jason wouldn’t notice you at first. As soon as he awoke he’d just stare at the ceiling, coming to terms with everything that just happened to him. It’s only after you twitch that his eyes shoot down to see you hunched over in a chair that could not be comfortable, your arms resting on the side of his bed, weakly holding his thigh.

He’d watch you for a while, being both stunned and confused before nudging you awake as best he could in his condition. Seeing you slowly open your eyes and recognize his, now awake, self was gratifying. He felt a sense of warmth after seeing how happy you were to see him awake.

He most likely would ask why you were there which prompted you to embarrassingly tell him that you didn’t want him to wake up alone. He’d be shocked but grateful that you didn’t leave him. Let’s you hug him if it doesn’t hurt much and as you leave to get the doctor his eyes are definitely watering. He doesn’t cry, especially not in front of you, but he gets very close.

( all my power was out this morning so I'm not exactly sure when this came in but sorry if it took a minute? )

———

Directory

[charliedakotariley]

Self insert here but imagine....

Jason having an artist partner, or a partner that LOVES to hord tiny decorations in their apartment/house.

They go out, sees a tiny mini figure of a bumble bee, buys it, takes it home and dedicates a whole ass shelf to it. Makes it a tiny house, a tiny garden and a general beautiful scenery.

Now imagine Jason, the buffed and huge mountain of a man, scary and violent, known to shaken everybody who meets him, ripped muscles and rough hands- and he's croutching to the level of the shelf, seeing the tiny Bumblebee with wonder and adoration in his eyes like a small kid in a Disneyland and softly asks "Does this cutie have a name?" and "If he could take it into his hands?"

The figure is as big as his pinky nail and he's holding it like it's alive, fragile and soft. He cooes at it, asking it how it's doing and what is it growing in its tiny garden.

After a while when he's putting it back he asks "Do you have more?" and his partner says "They're all over the place, you can try and find them all."

And DUDE- the way his eyes sparkles, a huge smile forming on his face, clapping his hands and doing this skippy jump while he runs around searching for those tiny creatures and their homes.

He finds a snail reading a book inside its shell above the fridge, a moth holding a caterpillar baby in a rocking chair in one of the cabinets, tiny kittens cuddling in a cozy bed behind a curtain, and a family of bats hanging from the ceiling holding wings in a book nook.

And he's tearing up. A tiny creatures having a praceful cozy lives without any trouble, nobody's hurting them, they need no savior, no one who would come late to their rescue, no shed tears and blood-

He gently puts the lastest figure back with a teary eyes, petting its head while turning and going back to your shared bedroom, stopping in a doorframe and looking at his partner who looks up and says something that has him bawling his eyes out...

"And you found the last one, Jaybird. Come here, to me, to our tiny peaceful home."

Thoughts?

I apologize for any mistakes, Grammarly isn't working-

[l0verb0t]

jason todd × reader. | home sweet home.

SUMMARY: A familiar figure stared at you from the other side of a window, helmet covered in ash. He waved back at you. WARNINGs: implications of near panic attacks & descriptions of blood. WORD COUNT: 2000+ NOTEs: second person. this has some minor plot mentions, but this is mostly just a hurt/comfort oneshot. [no pronouns, and "babe" is used to refer to the insert/reader.]

It was a busy summer night. Off your own sweat, you lifted your head from a pillow. A ringing woke you up, irritating the headache that was swirling around in your mind and thudding against it like a hammer.

Your hand fell to your phone, grabbing it from a nightstand just for you to flash your own eyes with its bright light. With a swipe to answer its call, a certain voice spoke out from the other end. A welcomed change from the bellowing sirens outside your cracked walls.

It hadn't been too long since you last saw each other, but that didn't make it any better. Time seemed to come at a snail's pace when he was gone.

The worry never seemed to settle. You're well aware Jason is good at his job, taking pride in ridding Gotham of parasites, in his own words. You trusted him enough to get back on his own, yet it never helped.

He was late by a few more hours than he said he was going to be back, but you still had to reassure yourself that it was probably fine. Your hope was the only thing calming the scattered thoughts.

Don't worry about it. Just rest your pretty head.

For weeks at a time, he would be gone. Every now and then it happened, and sometimes he'd be late. Just to make sure whatever was on his to-do list was dealt with or, alternatively, to make sure no one followed him back. He couldn't risk it.

Yeah, I missed you too, baby.

A small apartment sitting on the edge of his home city. One of the places he never spoke a word about. One of the few places he still felt safe, even if it was only temporary.

You flicked through the channels that flashed across your television's cracked screen, careful not to trigger anything with the bright colors. Nothing caught your attention.

Listen, I can't talk for long. I don't think I brought enough quarters.

You missed his laughter.

Nausea was building up deep inside. Your head swayed from it, keeping you grounded against the couch. With your free hand resting atop your chest, the beats underneath kept an unsteady pace as your head lied against stiff cushions.

You would've slept to bide the time, calm the soreness in your eyes, and try to get a good night's rest for once, but it didn't work no matter how hard you tried. At the very least, you were able to welcome him back rather than have him shake you awake again.

A horror movie came onto the screen.

In the darkness, a masked man stood on the other side of a glass door, staring down a girl who seemed to be on the verge of a panic attack herself. Slowly, he took one of his gloved hands and knocked, leaving behind more blood with each knock.

I just need to do one last thing.

You switched the channel just as someone started laughing.

The light from the television only further irritated your eyes, yet without it, it was too quiet to be comfortable. You simply turned away.

The knocking returned. No matter how low you turned the volume, it kept its loud echo. It became clear that it just wasn't coming from it at all.

You sat up to turn your attention to the apartment's front door. When you arrived at its step and looked through the peep hole, you saw no one there.

The knocking continued, though, further away the second time.

Following the sound, you came to the windows in the living room. Apart from the blaring, bright billboards outside, only the TV gave light to who was there. Maybe you forgot to shut the curtains as you stared back at a familiar red helmet.

There, crouched down by the window, Jason gave you a quick wave before pointing down at the window's lock.

Why he insisted on only using the windows despite barely fitting through them was beyond you sometimes. They just counted as the back door to him at a certain point.

You were forced to notice it first, the smell of smoke and oil overwhelming you as soon as he stepped in.

The shine of his helmet was covered by ash. His gloves were as red as it usually was. Freshly sticking behind everything he touched, blood stuck to the wall inside.

Without a word, he raised his arms. Instead of going in for a hug, he stuck to where he was standing, looking over himself with a shake of the head.

"Sorry, honey. For the… mess." A scrambled gag rumbled through the space.

Jason's head rolled to the side, and he placed a hand on his neck as he stretched it back, groaning as his bones cracked.

"I feel like ass."

With a hum, you responded, "You smell like ass."

"You're so mean sometimes." He cooed, looking down at you as his hands wildly gestured around. "I'll remember to come back smelling like flowers next time."

Without another word, he pulled his helmet off, his hair sticking out from the sweat. His brows were stuck in a frown.

"At least you're back in one piece."

You ran your fingers down the side of his face, twirling the ends of his hair before sliding it back out of it. A quick kiss was placed on one of his scars. The expression from before continued to tug at his face, but he finally let out a breath you didn't know he was holding in.

He threw his helmet back at the couch.

Hands reached up to yours, maybe to push you away, but they stopped before then. The blood was still there, mixed with oil, on top of the leather gloves.

"Can't say the same about the other guys."

The words came out as low and raspy as they would with his modulator.

He hopped in place while tugging incessantly at one of his boots. After both were pulled off, the jacket was the next thing to go, nearly ripping the fabric before he threw it over into a hamper. The boots left prints where he stood.

"No offense, but you're making a mess."

The boots were thrown on top of the clothes without a care.

"I'll clean it tomorrow."

With the jacket gone, you finally got to see what he was wearing under it. It was a plain t-shirt, apart from Hello Kitty standing on the front of it. Why he was wearing the joke gift you gave him ages ago was something you saved to tease him with later.

He just didn't seem too in the mood for jokes.

As he looked down at you, you saw that his eyes carried bags similar to yours.

"What are you doing awake?"

Since the gunk-covered layers had been thrown aside, you placed a hand on his arm. Where he would usually stay for a moment or two to savor the touch, he immediately pulled away.

"I wanted to see you again."

"You didn't have to stay awake for me." Muffled chuckling came as he pulled off his shirt. "You should head back to bed; I'll be in when I'm finished."

"Nah."

"You're going to be tired by tomorrow."

"And you aren't?"

"I've been trained to go days without sleep," After he threw his shirt over with the rest of his clothes, he pointed at you and said, "You just have insomnia."

It came back at him in a copied, mock voice: "Well, it's worth it to see your pretty face."

A smile bloomed across his face, and a snort followed before he pushed away your face.

"Yeah, okay."

You took it as a chance to stand away from him, the odor still overwhelming.

"Mind telling me what happened?"

"With the mess I made, we'll probably be hearing about it in the news later." He gestured to himself, smiling at you. "Are you proud of me, babe? I'm gonna be on TV."

"It wouldn't be the first time."

"That's funny. Again, what happened?"

Hand in his hair, he began to tug at it, looking away from you. "It's fine. The lead led me to a warehouse around the Gotham River. It was just another rundown drug lab."

There wasn't a response for a bit after that, letting the room be filled with nothing but the sound of his heavy breathing and whoever was on the television's rambling. He crashed back into a chair to steady himself.

"Someone just pissed me off. I went a little overboard."

You gave him a chance to explain further, speaking softly.

"Is that it?"

"Yeah. That's it."

So he couldn't sulk in silence, you walked up behind him to pat him on the back. Standing there, he didn't bat an eye at you as you kept the quiet tone, saying, "You should go get cleaned. I'll be here when you get back."

The chair bent back with a creak as he leaned over to look up at you. It pressed against your front, almost on you, for support. His hand grabbed the back of your head, pressing you into a short kiss before he hopped off the chair with a groan.

"Alright."

You tried to help him into the bathroom. In typical Jason fashion, though, he made that harder, leaning his weight against your hands as you pushed him in.

He continued to mess with you, making loud kissing sounds as he tried to reach behind him. The door was shut in front of his face, and there was a groan from the other side as it did. The sound of running water followed soon after.

It didn't last long, but he didn't leave the bathroom. You sat outside the door with the assumption he actually took your advice for once, still washing up despite the silence.

To settle the nerves, you took a deep breath and got to work on taking care of everything else. Everything in the hamper was thrown into a washer. Numerous holes and rips ran across the clothing, the ends of his collar covered in so many that it could hardly count as one anymore.

You nearly threw the boots in as well. The only way they were going to get cleaned was if they were put under a hose.

You had to get off from your knees before you fell asleep.

Later into the night, you kicked at the door, your hands occupied by a pile of picked-out, clean clothes.

It took awhile before any reply came. He called out to you through the sound of splashing water.

His voice came through strained: "Yeah?"

"I got you some clothes."

"Alright. Get in here."

You opened the door to find him sitting in the bath. His arms were laid across the rims, tattoos covered in bubbles. The tub was still too small for him, and so his knees were folded inside, sticking out of the water.

Resting back against the wall, he turned his head back towards you. It was a little silly to see a guy who prided himself on looking scary looking up at you from a bubble bath.

The clothes were placed on the sink's counter.

"Are you having fun in there?"

"You know me," He hummed before splashing water in your direction. "It distracts from the pain, at least."

You crouched down beside him to lean against the tub. His hand ran over your arm, trailing soap up your skin.

"You're supposed to be getting clean, not getting me dirty."

Through a coughing fit, he laughed. His mouth opened for a second before he shut it just as quickly. Pushing deeper into the water, he crossed one leg over the other as he spoke, "I can multitask."

You matched his position, resting your own head against the wall as you looked back into his tired eyes.

"Can you tell me what happened tomorrow?"

A heavy sigh left him: "Yeah, sure. I just don't like bringing work back home."

"I know, but I still want you to talk about this stuff with me."

Jason sat up, pressing against the tub to rest his head against yours.

"I'll try to remember that."

The two of you were in there for awhile. It was the most you had talked to each other in weeks, making up for the quick calls that otherwise filled the radio silence. You tried not to fall asleep to his voice and were lucky enough not to. The floor was filthy.

[wingedblessing]

jason todd never enjoyed small talk, he'd always hated how awkward it felt and how it didn't hold any purpose to anything whatsoever. that's still he met you. now, he loves hearing you speak. even if it's only for a brief period, he doesn't hate it as much now. and he's glad that he no longer hates small talk like he used to. only to you. jason todd never ate regularly, especially after patrols, a small coffee would make do or maybe even pizza if he's feeling fancy. but now, he eats regularly alongside with his stomach not hurting while in the middle of patrol anymore. all thanks to you making sure he's always eating something tasty yet impactful for his health. jason todd whose glad to meet you in this universe, and he hopes that he gets to meet you in another universe.

[©]:; don't copy, alter, or repost any of my works on all platforms, including tumblr too .

[sanguineterrain]

Hi Sanne! I'm not sure if requests are open, but if you're up to it I'd like to request red hood x reporter! Maybe reporter reader is getting too close to a case and is starting to become a target and hood takes her protection into his own hands? ((Including lots of midnight rendezvous and rooftop bump ins))

i love this prompt sm! i've been thinking about a reporter reader ever since i read task force z :) thanks for requesting!

jason todd x gn!reporter!reader. tw: reader is attacked (but they're okay), guns, violence, fighting, jason being both a force to be reckoned with and a big softie. 2.5k words

****

"I don't need protection."

The Red Hood crosses his arms. You cross yours right back.

"Yes, you do," he says.

"No, I don't. I've lived in Gotham my whole life. I can take care of myself."

"Living around and being in the thick of violence are very different. You're already chasing this story; they will come after you."

And what a story it is. The story of the decade, at the very least. A task force of formerly-dead Arkham patients wielded against Gotham by a mysterious benefactor.

It's terrifying. It's dangerous. It's sure to win you your first Pulitzer.

And it all means absolutely nothing if the Red Hood keeps wrapping you in red tape.

Your jaw ticks. "This is my story, Hood. You can't turn it in, so I will. And I won't be scared off by some slimeball."

"Oh, please. You wouldn't even have known about this story if it wasn't for me, smarty."

Smarty. His favorite moniker for you because, according to him, you think you know everything.

Working with the Red Hood has been an unfortunate side effect of chasing your prize-winning story. Not only is he wanted in twenty-six countries (you Googled it) and is a ruthless crime lord (supposedly formerly, but you're doubtful), but worst of all, he's got an attitude to match yours.

He's also built like a tank, which is why you can't just. Outrun him.

"I can't just not publish the story," you say.

"I don't want to stop you from publishing the story. Hence the protection."

"I can't afford a bodyguard."

"Well, it's a good thing I already paid my rent this month."

You scoff. "The Gotham Gazette has a strict 'no armed and dangerous' policy. I'm afraid we all have to leave our gun-toting vigilantes at home."

You open the driver's door of your car, ready to end the conversation here and now. Hood calmly closes the door with his hip and leans.

You glare. "Get off of my car."

"Fact." He holds up a finger. "These kinds of people always strike before the story comes out. They know you're scared and stressed, and they wanna do it before the story gets out. Otherwise, it's obvious who killed who."

"And where did you read this fact? Crime Lord's Digest? We don't even know if they know I'm the reporter who broke into the lab."

"Listen, smarty, I've been in this game a lot longer than you. I know how they operate," he says, finally getting off of your car, only to lean on the hood. Jerk. "It's only a matter of time before whoever's behind this snuffs you out."

"I am not letting a wanted criminal nest in my apartment!"

"That's why I'd be there."

"I was talking about you, Hood."

"Funny."

"I'm not joking. Look, I appreciate your... help." You try not to show your exasperation. "But there's no way I'm inviting you over to my apartment. That'll set off more alarms. If anything happens, I'll call you. Until then, stay away. Deal?"

Hood looks you over.

"Hm. You're awfully comfortable with giving me orders, smarty."

Your adrenaline spikes for a second. But it quickly calms. You've worked with Hood for a month now. Sure, you were petrified the first week, but it quickly dissipated. You've fallen into an odd camaraderie with him.

It's actually kind of nice, having him on your side. No one at the Gazette gives you the time of day. You've become used to having a partner. Not that you'd ever tell him that.

"You take orders so well, I can't help but dole them out," you say, only a little smirky.

"Watch it," Hood rumbles, only half-serious. Probably.

You beam and wrench open your car door, sliding into the seat.

"See?" you say, turning the ignition. "No snipers waiting to take me out. I'll be fine."

He shakes his head and slides off the hood. "Ten bucks says they'll try by the end of the week."

You close your door. "You're on."

****

As it turns out, Hood doesn't need the end of the week to earn his tenner. Trouble breaks down your door the very same night.

You're on your couch with some well-earned Lebanese takeout when your door is ripped off of your hinges. You shoot up from the couch, chest immediately tight.

Your assailant is masked and isn't that typical, giving masked men everywhere a bad name.

You run to the kitchen, hoping you can grab a knife. But you're grabbed before you can get there. You slip on the carpet and trip further into your assailant's arms.

"Keep still so I won't make a mess," is all he says.

You start screaming. He covers your mouth and you bite his hand. That earns you a thump on your cheek, so hard your vision blurs.

Bang!

You freeze, expecting the warm drip of blood and the excruciating pain to accompany it. Instead, your assailant falls to the floor, clutching his ribs. You stumble backwards and see Hood at your door, gun still aimed. He stalks over and kicks the assailant in the chest as he does. The assailant groans.

"You okay?"

You're still staring at the man who very nearly killed you a minute ago. Blood roars in your ears. You think you might be close to fainting.

"Hey." Big, gloved hands hold your face. You flinch and hold the owner's wrists. Hood comes into view once more.

"Are you okay?" he asks firmly. "Look at me, look at me, sweet. Breathe. 'S okay. Does anything hurt? Did he—"

Hood cuts himself off as he touches your cheek, where you were hit. He lightly runs a thumb over what is probably a budding bruise.

Hood lets you go and whirls onto your attacker. He hauls him up and presses a gun to his stomach.

"Go ahead, shoot me!" the attacker shouts.

"If I shoot you, it won't be out of mercy. You won't get a quick death. You don't deserve it," Hood snarls, and you suddenly remember all of your good reasons for fearing the Red Hood.

"I ain't telling ya shit!"

"I don't expect you to," Hood says, and fires again.

The man crumples to the ground, but he's clearly still breathing. Still alive. Hood drags him to the door by his collar.

"You go back to your boss. And you tell 'em that they're fucking with the Red Hood now. And, in case I'm not being perfectly fucking clear through all that blood loss—" Hood grabs the man by his hair and wrenches his head back. "If you come for my reporter again, you'll wish I was kind enough to put a bullet in your head."

Hood hauls your attacker outside. You hear a car start a minute later, and it tears down the street.

You look at your guardian angel, spattered in blood.

Not nearly as much blood as I expected, you think manically.

Your body aches and shakes with adrenaline. You can't even get enough control to move to the couch.

"How–how did you get here so fast?" you ask, staring at your now cracked coffee table.

"I've been monitoring your apartment since you got home. One of the traffic cameras picked up a stolen vehicle turning onto your block, so I came here."

You look at Hood. He seems very collected, all things considered.

"You—how did you find my apartment? Have you been stalking me?"

"Please. Lend me a little credit, smarty. I don't need to stalk you to find where you live," he says, holstering his gun.

"Are you insane?!" you burst. "That is such a gross invasion of privacy! What the hell is wrong with you?"

Hood looks at you.

"What's wrong with me is I just saved your life," he says evenly. "And on that note, you owe me ten bucks. Maybe even fifteen, considering it took less than a day for them to do exactly what I said they would."

Your lip wobbles. You don't know what triggers it; maybe it's your scratched up door or torn sofa or the fact that the Red Hood is in your living room right now with blood on his suit.

The tears form quickly. You can't stop them.

You cover your face but a sob claws out of your throat. Soon, you fall into big, heaving cries.

"Whoa, hey." The floorboards creak under Hood's unsure footsteps. "Hey, I didn't mean that. Shit. I was just kidding about the bet part. Aw, don't cry, smarty."

A hand lightly touches your shoulder. You lean in, but don't dare to initiate more contact. So Hood eases you into a side hug, awkwardly patting your other arm. He's extremely warm and solid with muscle, but his chest is soft enough to rest your head on. He unclips his holster so it doesn't dig into your body.

"I was just kidding," Hood says quietly in your ear. He rubs your arm. "'M sorry. Didn't mean to make y'cry."

You sniff and shake your head. "No, it–it's not that, I'm just—God, I'm t-terrified, Hood. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? They're gonna kill me! I'm gonna die before I win my first Pulitzer!"

You try to suck in deep breath but it's not working. Hood leads your unsteady feet to the couch. You sit, fingers gripping his jacket. Hood carefully loosens your grip.

"They're not gonna kill ya, smarty. I won't let 'em. C'mon, let's have a seat. Where's your kitchen?"

You point, lashes still thick with tears. Hood leaves and returns shortly. A glass of water is held to your lips. You drink it, breathing stilted.

"'S okay. Take it easy. Breathe. That's right."

You swallow half of the water, and he sets the glass down on the coffee table. Hood hands you a wad of tissues.

"This is pathetic," you say, wiping your tears. "Can't believe I'm being nursed by the Red Hood."

"I think nursed is a strong word. But it's more than I usually do for my informants. Then again, they don't usually burst into tears."

"Don't make fun of me. I'm fragile."

"I wasn't making fun of you," Hood says, gentler than you've ever heard him. He puts the tissues aside and rests a hand on your shoulder. You turn into it, appreciative of the weight. "You handled this better than most people would. You didn't even pass out. Hell, I've passed out."

You're sure that Hood is leaving out important details behind that anecdote, like fighting off a hundred men or being swallowed by a whale beforehand. You're grateful nonetheless.

You turn to him, fresh tears in your eyes. "They're gonna kill me, Red."

He shakes his head. "No. Listen to me. Nobody is gonna do anything to you, okay? I'm not gonna let 'em hurt you, smarty pie."

"That's an impossible promise," you say. "One of these days, something will happen. You can't be everywhere at once. Especially not while I'm at home."

Hood tilts his head. "Well..."

"Well, what?"

He rubs his throat. An old injury, he'd once told you. The pain flares up sometimes.

"I could call in a favor. Get you into a safehouse."

"You would do that for me?" you ask. You probably shouldn't ask. Shouldn't look a generous vigilante in the mouth. But you can't help it.

"I can't very well publish the story myself, can I?"

You shrug. "I doubt that. You have your ways. Once you have the evidence, you don't need me."

"That's not true," Hood says fiercely. "I do need you."

Your eyes widen. Hood fumbles for a moment.

"That—I mean for the case. Obviously. I don't have any journalistic links besides you. And I wouldn't want the story to fall into the wrong hands."

"Oh." You have a strong urge to wrap your arms around him. Weird. "Well, um, thank you. I appreciate it."

"Don't thank me yet. It'll take me a few days to get the safehouse," he says.

You deflate. "Oh. So I have to stay here until then?"

Hood is quiet for a long time. So long, you briefly revisit your original theory that the Red Hood is actually an AI remotely controlled by a billionaire.

"Hood?"

You reach to touch him. He flinches, a tiny movement. You immediately draw back.

Nope. Still a man.

"Sorry," he says, hand slipping from your shoulder. "I was, uh, going over options. No, your place is toast until we find whoever's behind this. But, um, it would be possible for you to—if you want to, 'cause if you don't, y'know, I understand, but I—it would be doable for you to, uh, stay with me. Until I get the safehouse."

"Stay... in your apartment?"

"'S not far from here. And it's a hell of a lot better protected than your place. And, y'know, I'd be there most of the time, so like..." Hood clears his throat. "Uh, yeah. It'd be safe. I promise."

"I wouldn't want to impose," you say, nervously scratching your arm.

"Mm. If you're scared of staying with me, y'can just say so. I won't take it personal."

He does kind of sound like he's taking it personally.

"No, Hood, it's not that. I don't... I'm not afraid of you. That, uh, went away a while back," you say. "I just... I don't want to burden you. After all, it's your space."

He makes a sound that tells you he's rolling his eyes behind his helmet.

"Saving your life is important, smarty. Why you don't think so, I'll never know."

You make a soft, pleased sound. "Got a real bleeding heart there, Red."

He sighs. "Yeah. I'm working on it."

You grin. "Thank you for rescuing me."

"Part of the job. If you don't wanna stay with me, I could..." Hood hesitates. "With your permission... I could get the Bats involved. Ask one of them to house you."

"You mean Batman?"

Hood grunts. "Preferably anyone but him, but yeah, if it comes to that. He'll probably get involved anyway. Fuckin' busybody."

"The Bats would protect me? But they don't know me."

"Don't matter. If I asked them to, they would. If that's something you want."

You think. Is it something you want?

Sure, any reasonable person would prefer Nightwing or Batman to protect them.

"I don't want to stay with them," you say. "I'd rather stay with you."

He jerks like you've told him the sky is falling.

"You do?" he asks.

"Well, yeah. I know you, Red. And I know you'll keep me safe."

"At any cost," he says.

That simultaneously frightens and thrills you.

"Then I'd like to go home with you," you say. "If you'll have me."

"'Course, smarty. Anything to keep you safe. Go pack some stuff. I'll be out here. You're okay?"

"I'm okay." You stand and turn before he can see what he does to you.

Yes, it's an odd thing, being partners with the Red Hood.

You're starting to fear that you can't have it any other way.

(pt 2)

[redsakura101]

Quiet Affections: Silent Sorrows (Part 1)

Jason Todd x Reader

A prologue to Quiet Affections: Dead Roses, but it can be read as a stand alone. Silent Sorrows (Part 2) can be read here.

After a fight filled with heated emotions, Jason leaves a posy of flowers for his love. A small gesture, expressing what his words fail to convey. You realise just what these flowers mean.

Word count: ~2.0k

“Don’t look at me like that” Jason’s voice is firm, quaking, trying so hard not to crack. 

“Like what?” Your throat burns, as tears threaten to fall.

“Like I’m good! Like I –” he takes in a sharp breath and chokes out,

“Like I deserve you.” 

You're shaken out of whatever anger you felt, your eyes soften, hearing the pain in his voice.

The anger that bubbled within you as you argued now simmered away. 

You finally take it in, noticing how his shoulders are tensed, stature rigid like a caged animal backed into a corner. 

How could you be so blind, you don’t even know how this fight got to this point. 

It started out so small and menial, now it feels like you’re both laying it out there.

Difficult to decipher what words are meant or not.  

And now all you want to do is hold him.

Keep him close and tell him sweet nothings and that he deserves all things good in life.

Tell him that whoever told him that he didn’t deserve the good in life, should watch out as you’ll hunt them down for making him feel this way. 

Arms fall slack at your side as you take a step towards him, but before you get too close. 

He turns away. 

He leaves.

Walks out the door of your apartment, and shuts it.  

The noise in Jason’s mind is buzzing, his flight or fight response kicking in as he walks out. 

He doesn’t want to fight you, the sorrow and hurt in your eyes pains him greater than any injury he’s sustained on patrol. 

All he wanted to do is tell you how sorry he was. 

Tell you how he never wanted to make you feel this way. 

That you didn’t deserve this mess of emotions.

But the words he means get stuck in his throat and come out in a twisted iteration – choking out snippets of the insecurities he has. 

His words failed him.

He had to get out of there.

He couldn’t think.

Couldn’t breathe in that room. 

He had seen how your eyes softened, seemingly already forgiven him before he’d even said sorry. 

Couldn’t fathom how you could do that so easily. 

Couldn’t understand how you could look at him like he was worthy of you and your affections. But he supposes that’s why he’d fallen for you so easily. 

Fuck. Jason’s mind wouldn’t stop, as all the ugliness of his thoughts begins to cloud his mind. He needed to clear his mind, distract it. 

The heavy weight of his combat gear acts as a comfort. The heaviness of his boots ground him.

A sense of familiarity as he pushes back the thoughts that chase him. 

***

The shutting of the door echoed in your apartment. 

The silence is deafening.

The air is thick with the heightened emotions that linger like a dense fog. 

You take in deep breaths trying to regulate yourself, as wet tears begin to roll down your cheeks. Sinking down into the couch, hands holding your head. 

How did this happen? 

You were both just enjoying dinner a few hours ago.

A delicious meal that Jason had cooked for the two of you. The aroma of pasta and a sweet tomato ragu still lingers in the air.

You had settled on the couch together, watching the TV but not really paying attention as you just enjoyed each other’s presence. 

Then you’d made an offhand comment – an offer for him to stay the night, selfishly you just didn’t want the evening to end.

Relishing in the comfort his presence provided you. 

You’d known he was planning to go on patrol, but you also noticed how his eyes were a little less perceptive, a little more tired.

Too many long nights out. 

You just wanted him to give himself a little reprieve. 

To take care of himself as much as you cared for him. 

But it didn’t pan out. Instead it evolved into an argument where no one wins. 

You’d both said things, hurtful things. Words that sliced deeper than a knife. Leaving you with a heavy heart of regret. 

You’d never had an argument so heated with him.

You didn’t know what to do now.

You didn’t want to hurt Jason.

Never wanting to be another person in his life to cause him harm.

You just wanted him to know that he wasn’t alone. That you were there for him. That you needed him. 

Why didn’t it come out that way? 

Why did your words fail?

Now all you think about is how Jason’s out in the city, mind impaired with emotions, and you’re worried sick out of your mind just wanting to tell him it’s ok. 

That you both are ok.

It was just a fight and you’d get through it, together.  

But you can’t reach him now. 

Instead you just lie on the couch and curl into the cushions, the tears have dried.

Eyes drift shut, as you fall asleep unsettled. 

***

It’s 4 am when Jason lands on your fire escape, he peers through the curtains. 

The dim glow of your lamps casts a gentle glow on your face. 

Angelic, is the word that comes to mind. 

He sees you sleeping on the couch, how you're curled into yourself. There’s no way you're comfortable, already anticipating how you’d likely wake up with a stiff neck. 

His chest aches as he remembers all the things said in the heat of the moment.

Regret crawls in and settles into his mind.

He stops himself from simply unlocking your window and holding you close. 

But he refrains.  

In his hands he holds a posy of flowers composed of purple Hyacinths, blue Hydrangeas and Olive leaves.

Tied neatly with a little string and a red ribbon. 

While prowling the streets he’d seen the dim glow of the Farmers and Flower market, watching as the hustle and bustle of vendors sold their goods. 

Despite the crime and grit that haunts Gotham, the city still has a vibrant wholesale produce market open from 2 am to 7 am, serving the needs of Gotham’s florists, grocery stores and restaurants. 

Sometimes when Jason needs peace, he watches over them. 

If his family saw him like this they'd never believe it.

They'd already been suspicious of his strange behaviour on patrol.

He should've never told them about you - in fact he never intended to tell them.

Not yet at least.

But you consumed so much of his life and he wanted to keep diving in.

So when he offhandedly mentioned it a few weeks ago to Dick that he'd been dating someone, it spread among the family like wildfire.

And now tonight they noticed as he was a little more aggressive, a little less chatty, moving quicker with no restraint.

They immediately came to a conclusion that something was wrong.

His mind boggles as their incessant chatter floods the comms, comments and teasing remarks that hit too close to home

As Tim questioned, "trouble in paradise?" As Steph tacked on to tease “are you in the doghouse Red?”.

Dick while sounding genuinely concerned asked "you ok Little Wing?" only pushed Jason to feel more ticked off.

He shut it off and continued the night alone.

He'd deal with them another time.

For now as a sense of calm washes over him, the harsh fluorescent lights convey a sense of warmth. 

Eyes watching over the hustle below him.

On the fringe of the market he noticed a vendor selling flowers. 

It seemed to be a family business as he noted the seemingly mother and son duo organise and arrange the beautiful flowers whilst selling them to clients both returning and new. 

The aroma of dewy flowers and the musky sweet smell of foliage fills his senses. 

In a moment of quiet.

His body moves and before he knows what he’s doing, he appears at the stall. 

Popping his helmet off, revealing his masked face. 

The woman, a little wary, watches him closely with pointed eyes.

A true Gothamite, always alert even of the supposed protectors. 

Behind her, her son’s posture grows tense and guarded, eyes flickering to the guns in Red Hood’s holsters.  

“Can I help you?” She asks, breaking the silence. 

This brings Jason out of his thoughts, it's amusing to her, watching as this violent vigilante of Gotham seemingly becomes small like a shrinking violet. 

He coughs into his hand clearing his throat, a little awkward, all confidence leaves him. 

“What flowers say 'I’m sorry'?” 

She blinks. 

His voice is rough, but sounds raw. 

A tell tale of the aftermath of an argument.

This is not how she expected her evening to go.

In the presence of the Red Hood, as he asks how to say sorry…with flowers.

She shares a look to her son, before looking back to the tall man clad in kevlar, leather and armed to the brim. 

Despite the mask she can see the signs of a man who’s going through the strains of an argument.

Likely with a spouse. 

Before she can answer, her son suggests as he begins to pluck a few flowers from their place, “Hydrangeas are a good idea. Especially blue ones, they mean sincere remorse and regret” 

“Paired with Olive leaves, represents a want for forgiveness, an Olive branch if you will,” she laughs a little. 

“I heard that purple Hyacinths also mean sorrow…” Jason adds. 

She smiles softly at him, “just in luck we’ve got a beautiful delivery of Hyacinths.” 

They work silently to put together the flowers, asking a few questions here and there. 

As he gives short responses, watching them move around and find the perfect flowers for him, pruning them to size. 

The way she interacts with her son with a maternal warmth, seeps into her behaviour, he thinks if his life were different, he would’ve appreciated having a mother like her. 

Caring. 

Thoughtful. 

It makes him think of you.  

How big would you like the bouquet? Just a small gesture, nothing extravagant. You wouldn't like a big bouquet, it would come across as forced.

Would you like twine? Yes.

Maybe a little ribbon? If that’s what you recommend.

What colour? Red.

Would you like a little note tied to it? No.

While they don’t traditionally put together bouquets, as they’re a wholesaler.

She thinks this is a worthy exception, and it’s a little fun. 

Especially when she has some other customers come through, seeing their faces as they’re a little taken aback by the vigilante standing to the side patiently waiting.

No questions are asked aloud, but she sees them in their eyes as they analyse him.

Soon they’ve finished, and present him with a little posy, thoughtfully arranged and carefully tied with twine and a red ribbon they’d found. 

She watches as he takes it with a gentleness contrasting to the violent news stories she’d associate with him.

He seems so young, younger than she realised. 

Around her son's age, her eyes which were once pointed and analytical now soft with a gentleness and understanding.

It must be tough facing what he does for the city and never being fully appreciated. She only hopes this little posy of flowers helps ease the pain he's trying to mend.

“Thank you…”

“Anna, and my son’s name is Franklin”, he nods at this,

“Thank you Anna, Franklin, for your help.” 

He fishes out money and passes it to her.

Before she can protest and hand it back, he disappears just as quietly into the night. 

She glances at the bill in her hand.

$100. 

She sucks in a deep inhale, it's a lot more than what was necessary.

Hell she would've done it for free, just to say thanks for keeping the streets of Gotham safe.

For keeping her and her son safe by doing so.

Gotham is tough, but these moments make it worth it.

“Well, that was one of the weirdest things I’ve seen in Gotham. And I’ve seen Robin save a cat from a tree, in the middle of a fight with the Penguin!” Her son jokes. She laughs and they continue on with their work. 

Little does she realise, this odd little occurrence wouldn’t be the last time she helps Red Hood find the perfect flowers.

Now Jason’s on your fire escape, posy in hand, gently placing it on your window sill. 

Stealing one last glance at your sleeping form, before disappearing back into the night. 

Read Silent Sorrows (Part 2) The continuation of this and what reader does with the flowers Jason gifts her can be read Quiet Affections:Dead Roses This was a little rushed so hopefully it all makes sense as I wanted to tie it into the Dead Rose story. Also I just love the image of Red Hood surrounded by flowers, the contrast between the two is perfect.

[kasarian]

hi alright has anyone thought about jason x reader (regardless of gender), where in they attend a wayne gala and reader wears a pristine, elegant white dress with red in rivulets/splatters as a design choice? (think hospital color theory here on tumblr LOL)

idk what characters reaction would be but i think it would be fun . that is all i can contribute here thank you