#Red Hood x You

[ditzydoe444]

big!jason when he’s fucking you and he notices a bulge in ur tummy

can i be 🐾 anon? if that’s not taken yet

MDNI 18+

a/n: you've been added as 🐾 anon!

there was nothing more that turned jason on more than seeing the bulge in your stomach when he was balls deep in your cunt. there was just something about watching himself move and how he was just so god damn deep in your stomach.

“you see that sweetheart?” he grunted, his chest covered with sweat. “that’s how deep i’m in you, so god damn deep hm? bet im hitting all of your sweet spots.” he didn’t even need a response, the way you whined and moan was enough of an answer.

“bet you love seeing this bulge, knowing how stuffed you are.” jason loved the way your tiny cunt filled him in, how your tight walls stretched to accomodate him. he loved touching the bulge, watching it move with his thrusts, the bulge was just another representation of the size difference between you two.

jason had a habit of pushing you to your breaking point, his rough calloused hands would rub around the side of your waist, squeezing it, or he would apply pressure to the small bulge just to hear you whine. “j-jay,” you quivered from his touch as he pressed down on the bulge. jason knew what he was doing to you, god he could feel your walls connecting around him.

“love this cunt, and it loves me back,” he panted with a cocky grin on his face. jason loved how dumb you got when you fucked him, something that always boosted his masculinity. “gonna come,” you whined, in your current position you couldn’t even move. jason harsh thrusts making you bounce on the mattress whilst he fucked you dumb.

“then come sweetheart, with this dick you’re gonna be doin’ it a lot.”

[ebodebo]

—thinking about jason todd being a smug bastard... MDNI

Wayne Manor was swarmed with people. 

Once again, your parents had insisted on attending one of Bruce's charity galas, dragging you along.

You couldn't help but feel like an outsider in this world of opulence and pretense.

It was fun to dress up with thousand-dollar dresses and jewels, but, Christ, the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfumes and the sound of clinking glasses, making it stuffy even in the corner of the room where you stood.

They were nothing more than a group of pretentious assholes parading around and gloating about their wealth.

The very sight of them filled you with a profound sense of disdain for the whole event, a feeling that seemed to grow with each passing moment. 

You just thanked God Bruce always provided good booze.

"Cute dress," a deep voice sounded next to you.

You know immediately who it is.

"Was gonna wear red, but I didn't want you to get all jealous, Jason," you jest, your tone oozing with sarcasm.

"Is that right?" He smirked, handing you a glass of champagne. 

"Yeah. So I settled for blue," you shrugged, grasping the champagne.

"I think red suits you better," he hummed, sipping the alcohol. 

"I bet you do, Toddy," you chirp, eyes leering over the glass as you sip.

"You think you're so funny," he mutters, referring to the silly nickname you call him to his dismay. 

"I think I'm pretty hilarious," you smile, clearly amused with yourself.

"I can tell," he jibbed, taking another swig of the alcohol, eye peering over the rim to lock with yours.

You open your mouth to speak but are interrupted by a refined, high-pitched tone dripping with an air of superiority calling out for Jason in the dimly lit, crowded room. 

"Jay," a blonde girl quipped, making no effort to greet you, only batting her lashes at him. "I wasn't expecting you to be here."

"Well, you know..." He trails off before mustering a fake smile. "Duty calls."

She lets out a horrendous giggle that has you laughing at the sheer absurdity before her eyes lock on you.

"And...you are?" Her tone is almost revolted, adding to the tension in the air. 

Just take the high road, you think to yourself. 

"I'm a friend," you plaster a ricus smile.

She purses her lips, her eyes betraying a mix of jealousy and curiosity as they dart between you and Jason.

You'll play nice tonight, sure. 

"Don't worry. I have a date of my own," you lightly smile, internally cringing, torn between maintaining your composure and the urge to flee.

"You do?" Jason asks with utter perplexity.

No.

"Yeah," you breathe out.

His eyes squint, you gulp.

"Well...where's the lucky guy?" Blondie poses, her arms crossing over her chest, her condescension palpable in her tone. 

Your eyes quickly scan the room before you hear a familiar voice walking behind you.

"There you are!" You beam, turning around, reaching for poor Dick's wrist, and pulling him next to you. 

"Dick?" She questions, her curiosity piqued.

"Dick?" Jason questions, his tone dripping with disgust.

"Not happy to see me?" Dick teases as you casually thread your arm through his.

You don't miss the way Jason's whole body tenses. 

"How...charming," Blondie quips hesitantly before she threads her arm through Jason's.

Jason doesn't miss how your whole body tenses, issuing a smug smirk at your bewilderment. 

Oh? He wanted to play dirty.

Well, two can play that game. 

"Isn't he just a charmer?" You chirp, your tone laced with unnoticed faulty admiration. "Dick's just so sweet. He just...swept me off my feet," you say, fighting back a cringe, but the sight of Blondie's scowl and Jason's stiff posture makes it all worth it. 

Dick shifts his eyes down to yours; you give him a quick wink, and he nods lightly, pulling you closer to his side.

He would do just about anything to get under Jason's skin. 

"She flatters me," Dick beams. "She's the real charmer."

You smile brightly, your eyes moving between Blondie's perplexed eyes and Jason's narrowed ones.

"Didn't think you two talked," Jason grumbled, his tone simultaneously skeptical and sour, his eyes never leaving Dick's face. 

"Yeah, I can't believe we haven't talked sooner." You smiled, your gaze shifting from Dick's bright eyes to Jason, noticing his knuckles turning white around his champagne glass. 

Got him.

"I can't believe I let you keep her to yourself, Jason. She's a great conversationalist," Dick chimes with a slight smirk at Jason's irritation.

Oh. Dick is having way too much fun. 

"I'm aware," Jason continently says, taking a sip of his alcohol. 

"Even better baker—what is it you made me the other day?" Dick questions, turning slightly to face you. 

Your eyes widen in surprise at his improvisation skills, your brain slightly scrambling before you find the words. 

Hell, if the whole superhero thing didn't work out, he could make a killing as an actor.

"Brownies," you spout after a moment.

"You made this idiot brownies?" Jasom suspires, clearly vexed. 

"I did," you smile, inwardly enjoying his apparent displeasure. 

Jason moves to speak but is quickly interrupted by Blondie.

"I'll have to have some shortbread cookies made for you, Jason," she says, smugness oozing as she pulls him closer to her side. 

Right like he would ever eat—

"I love shortbread," Jason says with a wide grin.

"You hate shortbread. You've always hated shortbread," you sputter out without much forethought. 

"Maybe I like them now," Jason shrugs, a sly smirk growing.

Your eyes narrow slightly before they widen a little in remembrance. "Oh, Dick," you tug on his arm to catch his attention. "I almost forgot you left your jacket at my apartment the other day," you prompt.

"Why was he at your apartment?" Jason instantly says, eyes staring daggers into Dick's.

"Just hanging out," Dick answers plainly, his lips quipping only slightly.

"Well, you two sure seem...close," Bondie quips, sipping champagne. 

"Yeah," Jason mutters through gritted teeth. "They do."

As you sip, your eyes leer over Jason's face over your glass of champagne.

His jaw is slightly clenched, and his eyes are narrowed.

Jason Todd, jealous?

What a sight.

"Speaking of apartments," Blondie breaks the silence, turning her head towards Jason. "Daddy just bought me a new one in SoHo. You should stop by," she says before she follows with a wink.

"Oh?" Jason hums lowly, clearly still a little irritated.

You let out a low scoff. "SoHo's kind of a detour, no?"

"It's not too far from here," Blondie says, somewhat defensively. "Plus, I wouldn't mind a long car ride with you," she brings her manicured finger up to run seductively across the pocket of Jason's tailored suit.

You tasted a slight coppery taste, only then realizing you had bit down so hard on your cheek you had drawn blood.

"If you two wanted to head out now, we wouldn't blame you," Dick remarks.

You whip your head around to face his, mouth agape in surprise.

"Would give us a chance to leave, too," Dick finishes, sending a wink your way.

"Together?" Jason poses, tilting his head to the side. 

"Of course," Dick says cooly. 

As you look back at Jason, a tiny flicker of amusement glints in your eyes. 

You can see the gears in his brain turning.

"That's a great idea, Dick," Blondie chimes. "Let's get a head start."

You breathed a shallow breath before swallowing hard, looking Jason straight in the eye.

"Jason," you murmur, voice almost pleading.

"Yeah," he simply says, barreling his way over to you and grabbing your forearm.

"Where are you two going?" Dick asks, a shit-eating grin growing on his face.

"Move, Dick," you say with much more venom than intended.

"Move it, Grayson," Jason spits simultaneously, pushing past his brother.

His arm is tight around your forearm, guiding you out of the room. 

Dick throws his arms up in defeat. "What the hell did I do?"

"Where are they going?" Blondie asks, noticeably irked. 

Dick turns to look at her, pursing his lips slightly, and sighs. 

"Just—do you wanna dance?" He begrudgingly extends his hand.

Blondie perks up almost immediately, grasping his hand and pulling him toward the dance floor.

"She's so gonna owe me," Dick mutters, referring to you, as he is being dragged to the dance floor.

Meanwhile, Jason had led you down a hallway into a nearby broom closet and locked the door behind him. 

"You know, my parents don't think you're a good influence," you say casually as Jason's lips graze your neck. 

"Is that so?" He murmurs against your skin while your fingers thread through his slicked-back hair, holding him in place.

You toy with your bottom lip between your teeth, nodding along. 

The feeling of his hot mouth on such a sensitive area feels tantalizing. 

"They think you're a very bad boy, Jason," you tease before whining as his hand wanders to fondle your ass over your dress. 

You feel him laugh against your skin as his hand skims up your back to grasp for your zipper, pulling it down. 

"What do they think I'm gonna do?" He asks, slipping the front of your dress down as you reach for his tie, pulling him to your lips.

"Make me a bad girl," you murmur against his skin. 

His lips quip in amusement before he pulls back and quickly slips his tie off. "You already are a bad girl, Baby."

You let out a small laugh as you reach out to pull his suit jacket off, fingers fumbling with the buttons on his white collared shirt underneath, before bringing your hand to rest over your heart dramatically. "Me? No. Never!"

He lets out a low laugh that has your stomach in knots as he slips off the collared shirt. 

"Don't think I didn't notice that little game you were playing," he mutters, slipping your dress down to the pool around your ankles.

"You're a little shit starter."

"I was simply evening my odds," you simply say, stepping over your dress and using your foot to push it to the side as Jason unzips his slacks. 

You tilt your head. "She your little girlfriend or something?"

He tilts his head up, mouth opening in amusement. "Come on. You take me for a cheater?" He simply asks, slipping his slacks off. 

"I take you for a lot of things," you begin, pulling him closer by his wrist to press your lips to his. "But a cheater isn't one of them."

He tips his head in appreciation before hungrily engulfing your lips with his. 

"Don't tell me your parents think Dickie would be better for you?" He murmurs in between breaths. 

Your fingers entangled in his hair yet again, pulling him impossibly closer. "Actually, yeah," you suspire. "Or Roy."

He pulls back slightly. "Harper?" Disgust is apparent in his tone.

"Hell, he's worse than me."

You let out a breathy laugh before it contorts to a breathy moan as Jason's pointer and middle fingers skim over your clothed cunt. 

"Besides, neither of them could tame this greedy pussy," he rumbles, fingers delicately moving, pressing up against your clit. "No one could."

You let out a whimper as his fingers move his ease in and out of you, your underwear adding another layer of stimulation. 

"Well, no one....except me," he dips his head to hover over your ear, lips barely brushing the skin. "Yeah?"

You don't respond.

You were too focused on his fingers moving in you and his warm breath fanning your ear. 

"Say it, Baby," he coos as his pointer and middle fingers tweak your clit. 

"Say I'm the only one who can tame this greedy pussy."

You grip his shoulders tight, shamelessly rocking yourself against his fingers to gain more friction.

Your breathy moans shoot directly into his ear as he quickens his movements. 

"Say it," he commands, low and gravelly. "Or I won't make you come."

"Okay—shit," you stutter, trying so hard to get the words out in between pants. "You're the only—one," you begin through gritted teeth. "Who can, can—tame this," his movements pick up at your cooperation. "Greedy pussy," you whine out, grinding your body down on his fingers. 

"What a good girl you are," he praises before, to your dismay, he pulls his fingers out entirely. Your eyes widen in anger, mouth contorting to reprimand him before he moves to slip his slacks and boxers off entirely, revealing his painfully hard erection.

"I'm gonna make you come, Baby. Don't worry," he assures, voice breathy. "But you're gonna come around me."

You release a shallow breath at his words.

Sure, your orgasm had dissipated when he pulled his fingers out, but, fuck, was it back now. 

He leans his head down to press a deep kiss to your lips before his hands move to grip the back of your thighs, easing you up and pushing you against a side wall. 

Your legs instinctually wrap around his waist as his fingers slip into your panties, pulling them to the side to make room for his cock. 

His eyes flick to yours, raising slightly���you sure?

You give him a quick nod before he slips himself into your slit, which was already so slick—ready for him. 

His head goes back at the contact, gripping your hips tighter to keep you in place.

You rock your hips, muttering a curse as he moves against your aching clit. 

"Was he really your date?" Jason props unexpectantly, moving his hands down to grip your ass as he plows into you much deeper. 

"Wha—Dick?" You exasperate, unsure of why his brother was now a topic. 

"Well, yeah," he breathes. "Unless you have some—some other date I don't know about," he pants through labored breaths. 

"I—why are we talking about this when you're inside me?" Your voice is already hoarse as you scramble to grip his neck tighter.

"Fuck. I like that," he groans before returning to the topic. "Just—tell me. Please," he pleads.

"No, Jason." You're surprised you found enough breath to speak. "I don't even talk to him like that," you say honestly.

A slight grin grows on his lips at the admission as his pace quickens.

"And Blondie?" You spit out.

"Blondie?" A cheeky smirk grows on his lips at the nickname before his face turns serious. "Hardly know her."

You give him a slight nod, clearly satisfied with his answer.

He leans his head down to lay in the crook of your neck, groaning and curling into your skin as he drills into you.

"Shit," you curse, starting to feel the build-up of tension in your lower stomach.

"I know, Baby. I know," He croaks into your neck. "Me too."

It only takes him a couple more thrusts for him to groan and spew curses, and you whine and moan as you both simultaneously come. 

After you both recuperate, he eases himself out of you, hissing, as he places you down gently, even helping you slip your dress back up and zipping it up, pressing a tender kiss to your shoulder blade in the process.

He slips his boxers and slacks back on as you grab his collared shirt and slip it on him, delicately clasping each button. 

You snicker when you ease the zipper to his slacks up as he groans at your touch. 

"You are a bad girl," he jests, slipping his jacket and tie back on.

You let out a breathy laugh as his hands find your waist, pulling you toward him. He presses a sweet kiss to your temple. 

"Also," he begins his voice a low murmur against your skin. "I hate shortbread."  

You smile and rise onto your tiptoes, hovering near his ear. "I know," you whisper before pulling back, your eyes locked onto his.  

"I've always known."

a/n: lmaoo poor dick

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[corpsedogs]

✿ just this once.

jason todd x f! reader

( ♡ he lets you experiment on his face )

You were sitting in front of your dresser, doing your usual skincare for the day. Behind you was Jason, laying down on your bed and reading something in his hands.

You glanced at him from your mirror. The blankets were pulled up on his lap as the lamp was faced towards the book in his hands to help him read clearly. His white streaks were slightly messy, as it stood up on his forehead.

Then your eyes trail on his face, the lamp softly dimmed on his face as you looked at it for a moment. Then, your eyes trail on your skincare products then an idea lit in your head.

“Jason?” you called his name, watching as he looked at your direction.

His eyes went from your book in his hand to your reflection in the mirror. He closed his book and placed a bookmark on a page. “Yeah?” he answers back.

You held your smile as you pretended to ponder a bit, you turned your seat to look at him with a small smile. “Can I do something? It’s not much.” you asked him, Jason raised his brow, curious on what you were plotting.

"Depends on what it is," Jason replied, his eyes flickering with curiosity as he looked back at you. "What did you have in mind?"

“Depends,” Jason replies, placing his book on the side of the bed, “Do I need to get up?” he asks. You only shook your head as you got up and took your skin care bottles, “No, it's alright.”

He watched as you took your skincare products as he automatically shifted on the bed to make room for you, “Alright,” he said “What are you doing?”

You hummed as you made your way to the bed, placing your skincare products on the soft mattress. “Can I put these on you?” you asked with a smile on your face.

Jason furrows his brows as he looks at the bottles then you with a funny expression, “You want to put a bunch of sticky stuff on my face?” he asked as he tilted his head to the side a bit. “You’ll look real better.” you replied, “Come on, it’ll feel real good.” you coed as you scooted closer to his side.

Jason couldn't ignore the feeling stirring in his chest as you scooted closer to him. Your smile was infectious, and it made his stern expression soften slightly. But he still wasn't completely convinced. "I don't know if I want to walk around with a bunch of stuff on my face."

You slightly frowned as leaned your chin on his shoulder, “It’s just this once. I won’t do it again.” you said, looking at him with those eyes.

Jason looked at you for a moment as he watched your pleading look, then finally he gave up and sighs. "Fine," he conceded, "Just this once. But if it makes me look like a weirdo, you're going to hear about it for days."

You beamed as you got up from his shoulder and began to sort through your products. As you splatted some liquid in your hands you looked up at him, “You won't regret this I swear.”

"I sure hope I won't," he scoffed. "Just make it quick, I don't have all day." You then beamed as you started dabbing and smearing products all over his face. Jason couldn't help but wince, the sticky, sticky texture felt foreign on his skin, and he found himself flinching every now and then.

"This is really weird," he grumbled, yet his tone was laced with a bit of amusement “How much longer do I have to put up with this?" You only hummed as you placed some more moisturizer on his face, “It takes like fifteen minutes. Just relax.”

Honestly, you were surprised that he easily said yes. He wasn’t one to judge you whenever you use some skin products. If ever, you were really happy that he said yes. “Why do you keep flinching?”

“Ever got condiment on your face?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes “You can’t possibly compare this to condiments.”

"Can't I? It feels just as weird," he retorted, he didn’t mean it though, he kind of likes this. You ignored his retort as you went over your pouch to find something. Jason peeked at whatever you were looking for, god hopes it isn’t anything ridiculous.

“And what is that?” he points as you took out a sachet. You turned to him with a small “Face mask.” you replied as you began to tear the sachet off.

Jason's eyes widened a bit as you tore the sachet open and revealed a face mask. "You're really going all in, huh?" he crossed his arms. "And what am I supposed to do with that thing on my face?"

You begun to place the mask over his face, “Nothing, you just wait till your face feels fresh.” you answered him, “besides, this is my last one so I’m gonna use it on something productive.”

Well.. Jason couldn’t argue with that logic. He slouched his shoulders as he accepted his face, staying still as you placed the mask on his face. He took the opportunity to steal a glance at you, he saw your eager and determined look and he can’t help but think its endearing.

When he was distracted, you couldn’t help but snap a photo of him. When he was distracted, you couldn’t help but snap a photo of him. His eyes suddenly darted to you for a moment, noticing the flash from your phone.

"Are you taking pictures of me now?" he frowns. You only smiled to your phone as you looked at the photo, “If I take a picture, it’ll last longer.” you said.

Jason huffs as he looks at you in disbelief, what is he going to do with you? "Show me.” he says, reaching out for your phone. You gave him a mirror instead, “No way you have that.”

Jason took the mirror and took a look. His reflection looked so.. unamused? The face mask covering his face and the expression he was wearing didn't help in making him feel any less like an idiot.

He looked up at you, raising an eyebrow.

"Do I really look like this?" he asked. “You can take it off now if you want.” you replied. As he removed the mask and threw it on the trash bin beside him, he took the mirror again and looked at himself.

You peeked on his side, looking at him “What do you think? You look nicer now right?” Jason inspected himself in the mirror, tilting his head from side to side as he observed his reflection.

"I think I actually look a bit less like a complete lunatic," he admitted. "You're right, I do look a bit nicer now.”

He couldn't deny the small pang of joy he felt from seeing you happy and content. He couldn't explain why, but.. seeing you enjoy something as mundane as applying clay textures on his face made him feel a little warmth in his chest.

It was stupid but still.

"You're really into this skincare stuff, huh?" he says, leaning on the headboard as he watches you fix yout stuff. “Not so,” you replied. “I just like it when you let me do stupid things.”

"Stupid things, huh?" he repeated, “So you think this whole skincare thing is stupid?" you shrugged, “It probably is to you.” Jason scoffed, he never thought he would be sitting around letting someone apply skincare on his face.

You chuckled at his scoff, “What I’m saying is.. you’d let me do anything to you which is nice.” you said, “You always do.”

His expression softens you. he admitted, his tone genuine. "Well, its cause I don't mind. I just don't want you to expect I'll say yes every time, alright?"

“I’ll try.” you replied.

🍓 my first fic!! please reblog and comment, it helps a lot

[luckyluma]

A Single Headcannon of Mine :p

Jason Todd x Reader

Smut Ahead!! MDNI!!

tik tok is dead so it was either study for college or this...

unfortunately one of my more selfish headcannons, just a heads up!

Jason has to be an ass guy. Like he has to be-. Especially with thighs that could crush a whole fucking watermelon with ease. Whenever he fucks his thrusts are strong, smacking his hard thighs against the back of yours. Each thrust, sending shockwaves across your skin. 

It’s no wonder why he loves positions that lets him ogle your ass while he fucks you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to look at you while he pounds you into bliss. He does love to watch how your face falls apart when he hits the spot just right. But something about your ass when you ride him reverse cowgirl. His big hands on your globes, guiding you up and down on his cock. The way his shaft disappears into your dripping cunt, as your soft skin meets his crotch. Just the sight of it alone makes him want to bust a nut, lmao-.

Don’t get him STARTED on doggy style. With reverse cowgirl, he gets to take a break while you do all of the work. But when it’s time for him to clock in. Your ass will look like Jason spent the whole night spanking your ass, but he wasn’t! He just… “got carried away,” he’ll say when you complain about not being able to sit down the next day.

Some fluff stuff. Definitely the type of guy to pinch your ass as a love tap, he will cup your butt while cuddling. If you two are in public, he’ll settle for holding onto your waist instead, but he really wants to squeeze your ass-

[cl0v3risn0td3dy3t]

ummmm jaybird

um men who are bigger than you and tower over you in every way possible but he's obsessed with the overwhelming intimacy of missionary sex. his whole entire body covers yours, and he loves the way it's almost like he's shielding you from the world, that the wanton expressions you're making and the way your body reacts is all for his eyes only. he can control how deep he fucks into you, can carefully watch the faces you make to see if he's hitting all the right spots. loves the way he can hold your hand as he thrusts into you; especially loves the feeling of every cell in his body going weak from how overwhelmed with his love for you he gets. the eye contact is the best and worst part for him; best because he loves looking at you, to know you feel the same, but worst because you always make him go weak in the knees. his arms can barely keep him upright, and he has to bury his face into the hollow of your neck and shoulder and-

[creeperkiwi]

book shop | Jason Todd x Reader ᯓ★ 

sumarry: Jason is a fan of a series of unknown books, there is only one bookstore in the entire city that has them so he goes every week hoping to find the next volume, the bookstore worker has a proposal in exchange for the third volume .

male reader, word counter: 2,532

masterlist

The tinkling of the bell at the door announced his arrival. Jason crossed the threshold of the bookstore with measured steps, as if he feared disturbing the stillness of the place. Despite having walked this path dozens of times, each visit was still a ritual. His cold, serene eyes shifted from the shelves to the figure behind the counter, where the worker lifted his gaze from an open book.

"Hello, Jason," he greeted with a relaxed smile, setting the book aside. His black hair was messy, as though he hadn't had time (or the will) to fix it that morning.

"Hello," Jason replied with a slight nod, emotion absent from his voice. He couldn’t remember when he had started coming to this bookstore, but the dark-haired worker always made him feel as though they'd known each other for a lifetime.

Without saying more, Jason made his way to the usual shelf. He knew exactly where the book should be, and, as always, the third volume remained a vacant spot in the collection. His jaw tightened. "Ridiculous," he thought, yet his fingers skimmed the spines of the books as if he could will the one he sought into existence.

The dark-haired worker watched him from the counter, resting his elbows on the worn wood. There was something about Jason that always caught his attention, maybe the stiff way he moved or his contained expression, as though he carried a world of unspoken words.

"So?" the worker asked, with his usual light tone of mockery. Jason turned his head.

"So, what?"

"You're not going to ask about the book?" He tilted his head, his carefree smile seeming like a challenge.

Jason sighed, crossing his arms. "I already know you don’t have it. Asking would be a waste of time."

The dark-haired worker chuckled softly, a comfortable sound, as if he had just confirmed something he had been expecting.

"That's new. You used to insist more." He straightened up and pulled something from behind the counter. Jason furrowed his brow when he saw the book in his hands. It was volume 3.

"How...?" Jason started, but the worker raised a hand to stop him.

"It’s a long story. But I’m not going to tell you here." He held out the book, but when Jason reached for it, he pulled it back. "Unless you agree to go with me for a coffee."

Jason blinked, his face remaining expressionless, but something in his eyes reflected surprise.

"What?"

"A coffee," the worker repeated, calm, as though suggesting something as mundane as exchanging a bill. "It’s the price of the book."

Jason looked at him, trying to decide if he was serious. Finally, he let out a brief sigh.

"I guess I have no other choice."

"Of course not," he replied, grinning widely while playing with the book in his hand. "I finish at 5, the café is on the corner, I’ll wait for you there."

Without another word, Jason left with an annoyed look; he couldn't believe what had just happened.

—☆—

Jason arrived at the café five minutes late. For someone like him, that was already unforgivable. He opened the door with a bit more force than necessary and scanned the place until he found the dark-haired worker sitting by a window, playing with the spoon in his cup.

"You’re late," the worker said, smiling with that carefree air that seemed to mock everything.

"Five minutes doesn’t count as late," Jason replied, sliding into the chair opposite him. He adjusted his jacket, a gesture that made him seem even more distant than he already was. "Besides, I didn’t think you'd take it so seriously."

"Of course I do." He set down the spoon and looked at him with squinted eyes, but the smile never faded. "That’s why I brought you here, right?"

Jason raised an eyebrow but didn’t reply. Instead, he turned his gaze to the steaming coffee the worker had ordered for him. He took a sip, as though needing the time to decide if it was worth continuing the conversation.

"So?" Jason finally said, placing the cup down with a slight clink. "Why so insistent on the coffee?"

The dark-haired worker rested his chin in his hand, clearly enjoying Jason’s attitude. "It’s not that complicated. I like you."

"Is that all?" Jason tilted his head, his sharp eyes relentless. "I thought there was a more interesting purpose behind it."

"Well…" The worker paused theatrically, leaning back in his chair. "Maybe you’re somewhat cute, and I knew you'd only accept if I gave you the book."

Jason stiffened for just a moment, but he didn’t let the worker see it. "Did you bring volume 3?"

"Maybe."

Jason snorted, resting an elbow on the table and looking at him with a mix of exasperation and amusement. "You’re irritating, you know that?"

"I know." The worker grinned widely, as if he took it as a compliment.

They spent a few minutes talking about trivial matters: the weather, the bookstore, the oddities of the regular customers. Jason, though cold and reserved, found himself surprisingly comfortable. After a while, his voice, always sharp, took on a slower tone.

"You know… I’ve read the first two volumes at least three times," Jason said, not looking directly at him, his gaze fixed on the edge of his cup. "It’s rare to find something so... real. I don’t know who the hell the author is, but it seems like he knows exactly how things work. It’s like he’s lived it."

The worker, who had been playing with a napkin, dropped his gaze when he heard that.

"That good, huh?" he asked, his voice softer this time.

Jason shrugged, but his expression was less indifferent than usual. "I don’t care if it’s good or not. What matters is that it doesn’t sound like all those idiots who think they understand the world. This guy... he really gets it."

A silence stretched between them until the worker finally spoke.

"Jason." His voice was laden with something Jason couldn’t identify at first. He leaned forward a bit, pulling something from his bag. It was the book. He placed it on the table, pushing it toward Jason with a casual gesture.

"Here, it’s yours."

Jason furrowed his brow. As soon as he saw the cover, he felt a mix of disbelief and relief. It was volume 3. For a few seconds, he simply held it in his hands, examining it as though it might be an illusion.

"How did you get this?" he asked, his tone more serious than usual.

The worker fiddled with the napkin in front of him, avoiding his gaze. "Let’s just say I have a certain... connection with the author."

Jason looked at him intently. There was something in the worker’s casual tone, in the way he avoided his gaze. His words started to echo in Jason’s head: "It’s like he’s lived it." He remembered the little phrases and details in the books, things that always seemed oddly intimate, as though the author was speaking directly to him.

"Connection, huh?" Jason said, his voice taking on a mocking tone. He raised an eyebrow. "What kind of connection?"

The worker shrugged, but there was a faint blush on his cheeks. "I guess you could say I know him pretty well."

Jason fell silent, observing him. His fingers drummed on the table as he processed the obvious. The worker had that same way of speaking, that same way of looking at the world with a mix of sincerity and mockery. Finally, he let out a snort, a brief laugh, but one with meaning.

"You’re the author, aren’t you?" Jason said, not breaking eye contact.

The worker looked up with a shy but amused smile. "Maybe."

Jason let out a sigh and leaned on the table, resting his chin in his hand. "So all this time, I’ve been telling you how amazing you are. Did you have fun watching me not realize?"

The worker let out a nervous laugh. "Well, it wasn’t that fun. I think this is the first time someone’s talked about my books that way."

Jason shook his head, but deep down there was a small curve on his lips, barely perceptible. "You’re an idiot."

"And you’re a passionate reader." The worker’s smile widened with more confidence.

Jason took the book but didn’t get up right away. "For what it’s worth, your books are good. Don’t change that."

The worker stayed there, looking at him, surprised by the sincerity hidden in those words.

Jason placed the book on the table, his fingers slowly tracing the spine, as though he wanted to mark every word before saying anything. The worker watched him, the tension in the air palpable, but neither of them wanted to break the silence first. Finally, it was Jason who spoke, his tone now a little softer but without losing that hint of disdain that made him unique.

"You know, I never imagined you’d be behind all this." Jason looked up, his eyes cold but with a hint of curiosity. "I thought the bookstore was just a place to... find books, not a place for someone to be both a writer and a bookseller at the same time."

The worker let out a nervous laugh, playing with the empty cup. "Well, not everyone has to be so... direct. Some people prefer anonymity, you know?"

Jason didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he observed the worker, his gaze a little warmer now. Maybe it was the proximity, or perhaps the surprise of discovering that everything he had been looking for had been right in front of him all along.

"What if one day you write something new? "Jason asked casually, almost as if he didn’t care too much, although the question had been on his mind for a while.

The dark-haired man fell silent for a moment, clearly deep in thought, before shrugging. "You never know. Though for now, the third one is the last. "He said this with a wistful smile, as if he had already accepted the inevitability of goodbye.

Jason stared at him, weighing his words. Finally, he let out a low laugh, tinged with mockery, but also a hint of interest.

"Maybe I could accept more outings with you." Jason paused, looking up and watching for the dark-haired man’s reaction. —In exchange for a fourth volume, of course.

The dark-haired man tensed, his face turning a little red, and the confident smile he had was completely gone. Something in Jason’s gaze, that almost defiant glint, made him immediately understand what the guy was truly suggesting. It wasn’t just the book that was drawing him in.

"A fourth... volume? "The dark-haired man murmured, his voice softer, hesitant. "That... isn’t in my plans."

Jason let out a small laugh, a little softer this time, and leaned forward, enjoying the other’s discomfort.

"Yeah, sure. "Jason said, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and something else, something the dark-haired man couldn’t quite pinpoint. "But, you know, we could talk about more books... if that sounds good to you."

The dark-haired man blushed even more, desperately searching for words. "It’s just that..." he took a breath, trying to maintain composure "I just... the third volume is the end, there’s... no more."

Jason leaned back in his chair, watching the dark-haired man’s reaction with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction. "Are you sure? Because you seem nervous, and not because of the book."

The dark-haired man couldn’t help but blush even more, realizing that Jason’s intentions went beyond books and reading. Jason, with his typical defiant attitude, had put him in an uncomfortable position, and now all he could do was smile shyly, unable to say anything coherent.

"It’s just... the third volume is the end, okay? " he said, his voice much softer and more nervous than before.

Jason crossed his arms, observing the dark-haired man’s reaction with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction. "Sure, sure. But maybe there’s something else you could write... in your free time." He let the phrase drop like an insinuation, enjoying watching the boy blushing in front of him.

The dark-haired man looked at Jason for a moment, his gaze thoughtful, as if he were making a decision. Then, with a soft smile, he took out his phone and slid it towards Jason.

"I think it would be a good idea for you to have my number." he said in a casual tone, as if it were something simple, but with a slight spark in his eyes that hinted at a deeper suggestion.

Jason raised an eyebrow, surprised by the offer, but in the end, he said nothing. He took the phone and, after a brief silence, added his number, handing the phone back.

"I hope you don’t bombard me with messages" he said, his mocking tone still present, but there was something softer in his voice than before.

The dark-haired man let out a soft laugh, a little amused, as he put the phone in his pocket.

"I can’t promise anything." he smiled again, crossing his arms, as if already thinking about the next conversation.

Jason made a gesture of indifference, but deep down, the idea of staying in touch with him seemed... kind of interesting. However, before he could say anything more, the dark-haired man, with his usual calmness, said in a low voice, almost like a casual observation:

"By the way, if you ever decide you’re not satisfied with just books, let me know. I’m sure you could enjoy more than one conversation."

Jason looked at him, the surprise of the suggestion briefly visible in his eyes. Immediately, he regained his posture, but the mocking tone faded a little as he tried to remain calm.

"And what do you know about my tastes outside of books?" he responded with some disdain, but there was also a touch of discomfort in his voice.

The dark-haired man leaned back with a calm smile, as if he had won the little battle. "I’ll only know if you decide to let me invite you for coffee again."

Jason snorted, turning toward the door with a half-smile. "We’ll see, then."

But before he could leave, the dark-haired man reached him at the threshold with one last word.

"Hey, Jason..." —he called, and when he turned around, the dark-haired man stared at him with a playful smile. "You don’t have to get nervous, I’m not going to do anything bad to you."

Jason looked at him, confused for a moment, until the dark-haired man, with a soft and closer tone, added:

"It’s just... you’ve already turned a little red."

Jason, surprised, put his hand to his neck, as if trying to hide, but it was obvious. The dark-haired man had already noticed, and, still smiling, turned and left, leaving Jason standing there, blushing with a mix of irritation and amusement.

Jason watched him leave, feeling an odd mixture of satisfaction and embarrassment. "You’re an idiot." he murmured to himself. But he couldn’t help the slight smile on his face.

[assjuice4ever]

Bat family Incorrect quotes with the reader

Red Hood: why the fuck did you spray Batman with a bug spray?

Reader: He is a Bat! Maybe it worked.

Red Hood: a bat is a fucking mammal, you idiot.

Reader: well, he coughed.

Red Hood: yeah, great success. Hurray.

[entitled-fangirl]

Dead batteries.

Jason Todd x deaf!reader

Summary: The reader's batteries to her hearing aids die. Dinner at the Wayne Manor was supposed to go smoothly.

Summary: anything that they sign is going to be in bold italics

Warnings: cursing, insensitivity to being deaf, the whole story not being proofread, Jason being Jason

Masterlist

........................................................

"Baby," Jason's voice called through the apartment. He shrugged off his coat, small concern running through him when there was no answer. He knew she was home. 

He began to walk through the apartment on edge. His gun was tucked against his back in his waistband. Just in case. Just in case. 

He threw the bedroom door open, startling both of them. "Fuck. Sorry," he apologizes with a hand up in surrender. As he took her in, he frowned. "Where are your hearing aids?" He signed.

"Dead," she signed back. "Ordering more." She gestured to the computer next to her. 

He nodded, taking out each weapon from his jeans (which was a lot), placing them on the nightstand, and joining her on the bed. He pulled her into his side, looking over her shoulder. "Until Thursday?" He whispered to himself. "That's a lifetime."

She felt his breath and craned her neck to look at him questioningly. He shook his head. When she didn't let up, he messily signed, "Long time to be without batteries."

She nodded.

"What about your backups?"

She set her computer down, sitting up to properly sign. "Haven't used in years. Better to go without."

"Some backups," he grumbled.

"Will your family be mad?"

"What?"

She sighed. "Dinner tonight."

He mouthed an 'oh.' "No. And if so, I would-"

She placed her hands over his, interrupting his threat.

��

Y/n!" Damien greeted, practically shoving Jason to the side. "I have to tell you about the guy I caught last night. It was so cool! Listen, so I jumped out of the Batmobile-"

"-Damien," Jason sighs. 

"-And it was like 'whoosh,' and I was like all cool and stuff-"

"Damien, she c-"

"And I chased him down this alley-"

Jason watched Y/n's eyes hold the panic inside her as she tried to follow what the kid was saying, but with his energetic motions, she was catching minimal words out of the jumble. Jason pushed Damien's head to the side. "Listen to me when I talk. Damn."

"I'm not even talking to you," Damien argued, going right back to his story.

"She can't hear anything. Her aids are out."

Damien froze. "Oh." 

Damien was the only one in the Batfamily that had yet to pick up sign language. With Cass, they had all begun to learn. And with the addition of Y/n, it quickly became intermixed with their everyday speech. Being a later addition to the family, Damien was slowly picking it up. Very slowly.

Y/n gave him a sorry expression. "Sorry. The batteries are coming Thursday."

He held a hand up. "Woah, woah, woah. I can't hear you when you do that."

Jason huffed. "Go away, demon brat." 

"I'll go when I'm ready," he sassed. "So I'll go now because I have nothing else to say. Not cause you told me to."

…

Dinner was a mix of speech and sign language, the family (for once) having a nice dinner.

Jason and Dick had found amusement in signing across Damien, acting like they were saying something top secret that he couldn't know. In reality, it was just random words like, "time, death,, cookie, day." To which Jason responded with, "leave doctor, dad." And then the two would bust up into hearty laughs, watching Damien turn red.

But the rest of the table ignored it.

"There's a new thing we're working on down in the cave. Wanna see after dinner?" Tim asked with his head down.

Steph heaved a heavy sigh, physically pushing his head up so Y/n could see his face. "Now actually ask."

"Sorry," he smiled with his cheeks full.

Alfred tapped on Y/n's shoulder, waiting until she turned around to speak.

Jason watched her face morph to complete confusion. She had always had problems understanding Alfred's accent. "Deaf," he muttered at Alfred.

"Oh," Alfred flushed. "Forgive me." He began to sign his question.

"She didn't even answer my question," Tim complained.

"She turned away before you finished," Steph reprimanded him.

"I got this," Damien gloated. He hit his fist on the table until he caught Y/n's attention. He spoke in a loud tone. "TIM ASKED IF-"

Jason's hand appeared out of nowhere, swallowing the kid's entire face and muffling him. He began shoving down until Damien had no choice but to go under the table. "I'll fucking kill you if you scream at her again."

"Jason," Bruce reprimanded.

"No, you favor the little shit." He ran a hand over his face. "Do I have to write it across her forehead for you guys to remember? Can't fucking do this-"

…

Dinner went smoothly after a 'Hello, I am' name tag was stuck to her shirt, the blank line reading "deaf" in Jason's messy handwriting. Bruce always had those for galas. 

But the car ride back home was rather silent. Hard to sign in the dark.

Once back inside their apartment, Jason had practically ripped the tag off her shirt. Just the sight of it annoyed him.

"Sorry we left early," she signed with a guilty expression.

He shrugged, pulling her jacket off and hanging it up. There wasn't much to say. They both knew that it had nothing to do with her. 'Love you,' he mouthed as an answer. He pointed at the book she'd left on the counter. "Leaving for patrol soon. Read while I'm gone?"

She nodded. "Almost done with it."

He nodded back. 

The two stood in the living room, just admiring one another. His arms opened and she all but melted into them.

He forced her head up so he could talk. 'Be good for me while I'm gone?' He mouthed.

She gave him a grin, mouthing back 'yeah.'

'Good.' He pulled her chin forward, connecting their lips with a softness that Jason was never thought to have.

...............................................

[ouch-thats-harsh]

Just kill me already, this is so pure, so raw. Bro, just kill me.

please take this. I made myself cry writing it and I have nothing to say except that putting ya’aburnee and darling by halsey on my jason playlist was a brutal choice. also look up flower language if you want additional feelings.

There’s so many things you want for Jason Todd.

You want him to get a good night’s sleep for once. You let him close his pretty seafoam eyes and lay his head in the crook of your neck as you scratch gently at his scalp. It always calms him down, grounds him in the here and now. Your arms around him, your fingers carding through his hair, the rise and fall of your chest that’s synced with his–it all reminds him that he’s safe, that he’s home. You want that feeling to follow him into his dreams, to let him find true rest. So when his body goes tense and his breathing gets labored, you hold him closer and hum gently into his ear until whatever haunts him in his sleep is chased away by the comfort you bring.

You want to make sure he’s protected. You wish you could deflect every hit, blade, and bullet away from his body. You wish he would see his body as something worth protecting. He would stop if you asked, would settle into a normal life as best as he could. You would never ask because to do so would be to deny the part of him you love most: his heart that beats to help others. So you protect him in the ways that you can. You stitch cuts and treat burns, you mend his jackets and help clean his guns. More than anything, you guard his peace of mind like it’s the most valuable thing in the world. You’re never cruel to him, never scream vicious words or toss him out into the cold night. You call Bruce and thank him for the first edition Jane Austen novels that arrived on your doorstep on August 16th when Jason just…can’t. You let him grip your hand brutally tight under the table when you go to the manor for Thanksgiving for the first time. And when it gets really bad? When he feels the burning of green waters that breathed life into him that he didn’t want, when hideous laughter echoes in a place it’s never been? You do something no one has ever done for him. You wait. You stay. You stay by his side until he can breathe again, until dawn breaks and he can see the light again. And always, always you, haloed in it like an angel he doesn’t think he deserves. He does.

You want him to have a good cup of hot chocolate. He told you about it once when he came home after a long winter patrol. Half delirious from exhaustion, he reminisced about how Bruce would make them both a cup of hot chocolate after particularly rough or successful patrols in December. How this specific hot chocolate had no equal—even Alfred couldn’t replicate the richness and warmth. You noticed the fondness in his voice, the longing so intense that it still makes your heart ache for him. So you do some light stalking and hunt down Tim Drake, demand that he give you the information you want or else you’ll disclose how he really lost his spleen to Bruce (why he was dense enough to tell Jason, you’ll never know). And that is how Bruce Wayne, billionaire philanthropist single father and the Batman, receives an email with the subject line “URGENT: Recipe Request” that reads as follows:

To whom it may concern,

I have been made aware that you have a remarkably compelling hot chocolate recipe that is hitherto unparalleled by cafes, franchises, and butlers alike. I am emailing you to inquire about my being sent this recipe post-haste. This is less a request than a demand. I will do my best to ensure that you, at some point in time not specified (it will take great effort on my part), are able to witness the consumption of the hot chocolate by the individual that will be receiving the product of the recipe.

Best regards,

Someone who loves your son.

Bruce sends the recipe the second he receives the email. He has to sneak his phone under the conference table at the Wayne Enterprises board meeting to do it, but he still manages to reply in two minutes and forty-seven seconds. And you make good on your promise. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Jason shine as brightly as he does that Christmas, lit up by the lights on the twelve foot tree as he sips his hot chocolate from the same red mug that’s been sitting in the kitchen cabinet since he last drank from it. The matching black mug is clasped in the hands of the hot chocolate connoisseur himself, who smiles softly like the magic of the season has returned to his life for the first time in ages.

You want him to heal. It’s a big ask; you know that. But you’ve never been one for giving up hope, and if anyone can manage to achieve the impossible, it’s Jason. So you tell him it’s a great idea when he jokes about getting a therapist. You wait for him in the car the first time he goes and you let him open up to you in his own time when he comes out of the appointment body tight as a bowstring and eyes bloodshot. You watch quietly and celebrate the little victories you see him win. He can call his father first now; he doesn’t do it often, but he can. He can talk to his younger brother without hating his hands and the blood that’s been spilled on them, without going out on patrol and intentionally letting all the worst hits make contact. He can go out to lunch with his older brother and his youngest, can laugh with them over that ridiculous thing Bruce did at a gala once to make them all laugh. He can bear his birthday a little bit better now, can accept the cake you bake and actually make a wish when he blows out the candles. But you’ll never know about the moment that you start to get what you want. Jason goes to visit his own grave on the anniversary of his death and finds a bouquet of red carnations, baby’s breath, and honeysuckle with a note in your handwriting that reads “Someone told me once that you were magic, that that was the best thing about you. I think it’s far more important that you were loved. I don’t know what you could’ve been. I don’t wonder about it like those that loved you did because all I know is who you became. He’s wonderful. He’s still magic. I think you’d be proud of him. I’ll do my best to take care of him for you.” He sits there for an hour in tears. Then he takes one bud of each flower and the note, goes home and presses them into the pages of his favorite book. He holds you in his arms in bed that night and feels, for the first time in a long time, a sense of peace down to his very bones.

You want—above all else—Jason Todd to feel loved. You want him to feel so cherished and wanted that he cannot possibly look at himself without realizing that he is something precious, something beloved. So you tell him that you love him and you accept his warm embrace as his way of saying it back. You make him chocolate chip cookies and sneak one into the pocket of his tactical pants when he goes on patrol (they’re soft, they don’t get crunched when he’s thrown from a roof). You read his favorite books to understand what he’s saying when he goes off on tangents about class and social hierarchy and how they governed life in the 19th century. You trace his scars and kiss away his tears when he can’t believe that he could be transformed from a being marred by brutality into a man revered with gentleness. You will love him until the day you both die. You will love him in death, until whatever atoms made up you and him come together again. You will love him until everything that ever is or ever was ceases to be in a supernova of light. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll love him in whatever is born after.

[m1epes]

GUYS PLEASE POST MORE GK! JASON SMUT PLEASE IM ON MY HANDS AND KNEES I CANT WRITE FOR SHIT BUT I NEED IT SO BADD LIKE HES LITERALLY MY BBG I NEED HIM SPECIFICALLY TO PUT ME IN A HEAD LOCK BRO

[ditzydoe444]

Jason's penis is a third leg and a compete monster, you didn’t believe he had. A dick That big but my god, he was bigger than anything you’d seen in real life or porn. When you started screaming in pain he mocks you “talked all that shit and can’t even take half of it? Pathetic”

MDNI 18+

big dick! jason x reader

jason todd smut

jason smirked when he watched you crawl back on the mattress when he pulled his dick out of his boxers, gently pumping it. “what’s wrong sweetheart? can’t handle it?” he teased as he watched your eyes widen at his sheer size. he was big, not porn star big, but monster big. you were pretty damn sure one thrust in and you were a goner. he would fuck your brains out.

“don’t back off now, do you know how many women would love to be in your position sweetheart? you need to be grateful.” despite your sheer shock and slight horror from seeing his size, you were so turned on. there was just something about having a dick so big, like your arm shoved inside your cunt. “come here sweetheart,” he motioned forward for you to return back to your original place, by the edge of the mattress.

the moment you felt his fat tip nudge into your cunt you whined, just the tip was enough to make you react in a way no man’s full cock has. jason let out a low chuckle, “sweetheart, calm down. it’s just the tip.” despite how much he stretched you out with his fingers, clearly you weren’t prepared enough. the way you would clench around his cock was enough to make him shove the whole damn thing without warming you up.

a few inches in you were a mess, clutching into the sheets whilst tears streamed down your cheeks. you were stretched out beyond belief, jason himself was a big man, not just his dick but his frame. essentially, you were his little fuck toy. “not even half way in, and you’re crying like a puppy.” he muttered lowly.

“so goddamn pathetic,” he thrusted with each word, before he was balls deep in your cunt. jason saw the way you were whining, the way you were panting whilst your tight cunt was stuffed was a sight to say the least. “gonna fuck you so good,” his calloused hands rubbing your hips gently.

“if you don’t stop crying im gonna make sure i fuck you so well that your throat starts to hurt from screaming.” jason has never seen a sight more pathetic than you struggling to take his dick. he made sure to have you get use to it by making you his personal fuck toy, where he would fuck you like a fleshlight, using all of your holes. jason made a mental note to fuck your cunt, ass and mouth until you could take him without whining.

[mtcloudsworld]

𝑵𝑶𝑻 𝑺𝑶 𝑯𝑼𝑺𝑯 𝑯𝑼𝑺𝑯

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 | black!fem reader intended BUT could be anybody, vigilante!reader, stake out kind of mission, boyfriend!Jason Todd, suspicious!dick grayson, edited but if you see any errors please ignore, ty!!

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 | He told you. He actually told you. I can't believe it...

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 | drabble for the brain. Enjoy lovebugs!! :)

𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐒𝐎𝐍, didn't think he had it in him. He didn't think it was gonna work out. Not that he didn't ever have faith in his little brother, he just figured since 𝐉𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐃 was more reserved with his feelings, admitting them to a love interest seemed ideal. But it worked out perfectly and that's what's mind blowing. And just like any other older brother out there who wants there siblings to achieve every and anything, he was proud to know he successfully passed this test. But what he wasn't happy about was that he found out a month later???? ON ACCIDENT??? He was just strolling through the manor when he heard giggling coming from the kitchen. Seeing you seated on the stool, across from the isle was Jason preparing dinner. The manor was supposed to be empty tonight since everyone was doing their own thing, Dick was supposed to be with Barbara but had to drop off something for Bruce before heading her way. There was a bunch of chatter on whether you two should tell the others or not. Should this be hush hush? Jason wasn't too keen on people meddling in his business and you didn't mind whatever decision he made. You were willing to keep it under wraps until...whenever, until he was ready. Alfred had already known, Bruce had his suspicions about it but didn't have the heart to ask. He knew how reserved Jason was. He figured whenever Jason was ready to tell him, he was all ears. Dick on the other hand? Not so much─ Did I mention Alfred was there too? He's the one who helped Jason set all this up, but you obviously didn't need to know that, and now Dick was trying to figure out how in the hell he was going to bring this up.

Frequent eye contact. subtle, hidden touches here and there, always so close─ hip to hip. He noticed every little thing, and as much as it swelled his heart to see his brother try to be affectionate for your sake, he was a detective at heart and he had eyes everywhere.

No doubt you two keep it professional but the way you and Jason have been acting lately, isn't the usual behavior he's used to. Missions have been more intense, on the edge, there's more caution and frequent check-ins between you two.

The constant eye contact is what keeps him on edge, and when you think no one is watching a quick brush along the fingers when passing by each other or holding each other's hands till your fingers slide past seemed a little too romantic in his opinion.

But it told him everything.

It let him know something...

"You told her, didn't you?"

He asked in the middle of patrolling.

Currently placed between two gargoyles, they scaled over the streets in search of something major in solving this case.

With his arms crossed, Nightwing was leaned up against the triangular shape roof with his eyes nowhere near his target but on Red hood, who happens to be leaning over the ledge in support of his foot with his forearms rested over his knee.

"What are you talking about?" He asked, his voice modulated a little bit more deeper than usual.

His eyes focused on a particular street. Two u-haul trucks full of cargo brought into an abandoned warehouse by a bunch of goons dressed in all black suits and masks.

The obvious, Black Mask associated.

"You told her you liked her," Nightwing states, trying to clear up the confusion, "didn't you?" He pushes himself off the roof to come a little closer.

"What makes you think that, detective?"

"Because, you two have been acting all lovey dovey lately. I even overheard you two talking with Alfred about last Friday night, date night to be exact? You even made Alfred's most famous chicken Alfredo and garlic bread knots?"

Through Jason's mask, Dick could feel his eyes piercing through his thick skull. Might even be throwing daggers, but either way it was clear he was not happy with him eavesdropping on their conversation, nosey ass. "You think I don't notice, Todd, but I do. I've been watching, I've been paying very close attention to you two."

"Tch," Jason scoffs with a shake of his head, pushing himself off the ledge with his foot now rested on the roof, "so what if I did? What's in it for you? It's not like it's any of your business, Grayson." He renders, crossing his arms to make himself look a little bit more intimidating.

"Because I felt my ears burning like crazy last week, Jaybird," Nightwing claims motioning towards his ears, "and they were hot as hell! You guys were talking about me, huh?" Jason's eyes roll with a heavy, annoyed sigh and Dick put his hands on his hips with a tilt of his head as he gleams, "Let me guess, the doll mentioned how I knew you possibly, maybe, might have a crush on her and vice versa?"

Sigh, "not everything is about you, boy wonder." He moves to the other side of Dick for a closer look at the street.

"Stop projecting and just spit it out already!" He whines in deep agony.

"Hey, a little less chit chatting and a little bit more eye searching, okay? I just saw two more trucks pull up on your 6." You suggest through the coms.

While Dick was thinking upon his next words, Jason took it upon himself to get a closer look. Now in between the dark and wet alley, his steps were silent as he knelt behind the brick wall watching as the men store the boxes inside.

He heard a grappling hook click and then a splash of a landing from a distance, till they came a little bit closer. Luckily the two weren't that close to the warehouse for the goons to hear them.

Silence.

"..."

"Y'all are dating, aren't you?" He presses one more and Jason groans, "Oh for Christ sake, Nightwing, let it go!"

"No, Red, I will not let it go! Just admit it. It'll make my life so much better if you'll just say it."

"What? So you can lavish on the idea that you possibly had something to do with us being together?" He then scoffs bitterly, "Yeah, no, not happening."

Out of habit, you found yourself butting into the conversation and vocalize, "twelve o'clock, babe."

Before Jason could respond the way he wanted to, it took him a second to realize what you just said. A second for him to whip around with wide eyes, hearing a sudden 'oop!' through the coms and a curse underneath their breath.

It dawns on everybody the obvious.

The answer to everybody's question.

And with haste, Dick's jaw drops and immediately his whole body turns to see Jason frozen in place.

"bAbE?!"

Jason's eyes widen as he stands up and expresses, "Doll!"

You make a 'yikes' look cringing a little to the sound of Jason's panicked yet annoyed voice.

"Oop, sorry..."

Feeling a tad bit bad, you were honestly stiffling a laugh at your little slip up.

Though you couldn't physically see him, you were positive his face was flushed right about now and was shaking his head in slight embarrassment as Dick was going off on a little tangent.

Tim, alongside you, could only smirk and chuckle, declaring, "Oh yeah, y'all are most definitely together," before jumping off the roof into the dark alleyway with you following in pursuit.

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃

𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 ©𝐦𝐭𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐬 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓

[averyjadedemerald]

needed an extra warning for the ending 💔

The Roman Empire

Pairing: Jason Todd x Sionis!Reader (Forbidden romance)

Summary: Five times Jason doesn’t confess his feelings, and the one time he does.

Word count: 5.8k

Potential TW for Jason experiencing fear toxin

1.

“How are you so bad at this?” you giggle. The plastic bag of M&Ms crinkles in your hand.

“I’m not bad, you just suck at throwing!”

Batman cuts the two of you a glare and says sternly, “Shh.”

Jason salutes and says, “Yes, boss.”

Another M&M hits the side of his cheek. “Hey!”

“Robin.”

“But she—” Jason points at you, but the M&Ms have disappeared and an innocently confused expression has taken over your face.

“I didn’t even do anything,” you grumble to B, but as soon as he rolls his eyes and turns back to watch the target, you smirk at Jason evilly.

Jason turns his eyelids inside out and points his tongue at you.

A whole handful of the candies hit his face and scatter on the ground, pinging like little pieces of hail.

“B!” Jason shrills.

In a rare moment of human weakness, Batman pinches the bridge of his nose. “All right, you two are off the case. Go home. Both of you.” You earn the glare that time. Jason watches a shiver go down your spine. Living with Bruce and watching the man swan dive into fountains at galas has kind of ruined his Batman intimidation factor with Jason, but you haven’t seen his more human side. Because you never visit the manor as a civilian. Because Jason’s not allowed to know you as a civilian.

Jason thinks it’s stupid that Barbie gets to know your identity because you’re her prodigy or something, and Batman gets to know your identity because he’s Batman, but apparently Robin knowing it is too dangerous. Hasn’t he shown that he can keep a secret? No one knows his secret identity!

“The Batmobile will pick you up outside the Surh Complex,” Batman said, tapping the device on his gauntlet. “Batgirl, I’ll be tracking your progress home.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” you both chant in unison, hands up in salutes.

Jason swears he sees one of Bruce’s lenses twitch with irritation.

Normally he would argue about staying out later, but stakeouts are the most boring thing to have ever existed, especially when you’re not there. So he grapples off the roof in the direction of the complex, knowing instinctively that you’ll be close behind.

They parked the Batmobile a long way away, so as not to scare off the target they were watching. If it was to come roaring in at breakneck speed to pick Jason up, there would be no point in doing that. So he watches its slow, silent progress on his tracker screen. He has probably five minutes before it gets here.

That’s plenty of time to do what he’s been gearing up to do for the past week.

Jason’s palms are sweaty in his Robin gloves. He hopes you can’t see the sweat on his face. Just to be safe, he turns away and scrubs at his forehead before turning around. “So, Batgirl, I was thinking…”

“Yeah?”

Jason’s mouth goes dry when he meets your gaze. There’s something about your eyes that tugs at his brain. He must know you from somewhere.

“I was wondering if you wanted to—”

A gunshot drowns out the rest of Jason’s sentence.

“Batman!” you cry out. “Come on, Robin!”

The two of you sprint back to where you’d left Batman and find an empty roof. Judging by the sounds coming from the building across the street, he’d ended the stakeout and started the fight.

You and Jason swing through the window and land in the middle of a goon fight.

Twenty minutes later, exhausted and wincing from a good kick to the ribs, Batman sends you home. Jason’s knuckles will be bruised tomorrow, but otherwise he came out pretty unscathed. He doesn’t remember about the question he’d wanted to ask you until he wakes up the next morning, swearing and disappointed.

Oh well. There’s always next time.

(There isn’t a next time. There’s Felipe Garzona and being benched and Ethiopia and the Joker and his mother and a bomb.)

2.

He makes sure that his boots scuff against the roof when he lands.

You whirl around at the noise. The lenses of your mask widen at the sight of him, and before he knows it there’s a crossbow pointed at his face.

“I’m not here to fight,” he says, raising his hands.

You scoff. “Like I’ll believe anything that comes out of the mouth of the dude that shot me and dunked me in the Gotham River.”

Jason winces at the reminder. These days, he’s angry more often than he isn’t. But he’s tired of being angry, so he’s trying to make amends. “In my defense,” he says carefully, “you did shoot me first.”

“Blunt arrow,” you say shortly, waving the crossbow slightly. “Real bullet. And Gotham River water in my real bullet wound.”

“My bad?”

You snort. “You’re just lucky I didn’t contract anything. Don’t you know how filthy the water is?”

“I didn’t know it was you,” he admits. “I wouldn’t have—I didn’t know. You were my best—you know who I am, right?”

You nod.

“It was pretty stupid of me not to realize,” he says sheepishly. “I mean, Delphi? Pretty obvious you’re close with Oracle. But I wasn’t thinking…”

When he trails off, you just watch him, face blank and eyes hidden. He used to be able to read you like a book. Now he has no idea what you’re thinking.

Jason hates the domino you wear now. Its white lenses match the rest of the vigilantes, but they hide your eyes. Jason hasn’t seen your eyes in years. He doesn’t quite remember the shade, the shape—in the League, sometimes all he could hold on to was the memory of your eyes and your hair. He remembers you laughing after flipping in the air, some of your ruffled hair still caught in your mouth, and himself brushing it away.

How could he have known you were Delphi if he couldn’t see your eyes? He didn’t realize until he heard you scream when he pushed you.

By the time he dragged you out of the water, you were unconscious. Jason saw Nightwing, just a furious blue blur on his way to rescue you—honestly, sometimes Jason wonders if Dick and Babs hadn’t adopted you, based on the way they act like your parents—and ran. He wonders if you know he pulled you out and not Dick.

“I don’t know if you know—” You aren’t a part of the family like everyone else is. Jason doesn’t know why you keep yourself at a distance, but you act as if you don’t like Spoiler, which means Tim doesn’t like you. You keep everyone but Bruce, Dick, and Babs at arm’s length, and he doesn’t get it. As far as he knows, you don’t even like Cass, even though everyone likes Cass. Jason likes Cass. So he’s not sure if anyone’s told you yet— “I’m trying to make amends.”

Your lips twitch. “You’re doing an apology tour?”

“Uh, sure, I guess. And,” he says quickly before you can tell him to fuck off, “I brought these as a peace offering.”

You catch the bag out of thin air and, despite the circumstances, you laugh. For the first time since Jason landed on the roof, the crossbow lowers. “M&Ms? Really?”

“For old time’s sake.”

“Thanks,” you say grudgingly, and Jason’s heart jumps.

“So.” Jason thrusts out his hand. His heart beats a thousand times a second. “Friends again?”

He doesn’t want to be friends. He wants to ask if you loved him the way he loved you as children. He wants to ask if you could love him as an adult. He wants to ask you to spend the rest of your life with him.

But Jason’s a sack of shit that shot you in the stomach and kicked you off a bridge, so he doesn’t get that. He doesn’t even deserve your friendship, but he’s a selfish sack of shit, so he’ll beg for it anyway.

You sigh and heft the crossbow. Jason braces for an arrow—it’s only fair, after all, for you to shoot him after he shot you—but you lean it against your shoulder and hold out your hand.

“Friends again,” you agree.

3.

You’re dead.

Jason’s sure of it.

“Hood, please, listen to me,” pleads Red Robin, “Delphi’s not suited up tonight, there’s no way she was caught in the crossfire.”

His hands won’t stop shaking. Why won’t they stop shaking? He needs to call you. He doesn’t have your number. He doesn’t know your name. All he can do is page your superhero comm, again and again and again—

A hand clamps down on his shoulder: Nightwing. “Hood,” he says in a low, calm tone, “you need to put your rebreather on. Your helmet cracked and you’re breathing in—”

“Don’t touch me!” Jason shoves him away so hard he almost falls.

“B,” says Red Robin, touching the comm in his ear, “Hood’s compromised, I think we need your help.”

Jason’s heart is going to burst out of his chest if you don’t pick up. He doubles over, wheezing. He can’t breathe.

Someone’s arms loop between his, locking them behind his back, and someone else clamps something over Jason’s mouth. “Hood, please,” Nightwing pleads into his ear, “we’re just trying to help. You’re not thinking clearly.”

“No!” Jason writhes, throws his body weight back and forth, whips his head back and cracks it against Nightwing’s nose. His arms falter, and Jason wrenches away, pulling the thing off his face. It was probably laced with something, a chemical to put him down. “You’re compromised!” It’s the only reason he and Red Robin would try to keep Jason from you. They locked you up somewhere, they’re probably hurting you, Jason needs to find you but your tracker’s disabled.

He pages your superhero comm again and again and again—

It beeps, the line turning on, and your groggy voice says, “Hello?” like you’re answering the phone. Did you just wake up, or are you drugged?

“Where are you?” Jason demands.

“Hood?” you sound slightly more alert. “What’s wrong?”

“Tell me where you are. No, stay back!” That’s aimed at Red Robin, who’s trying to slip past Jason’s guard with his bō. He freezes when Jason pulls out his pistol.

“What?”

“They’re compromised,” Jason says in a rush. “What did they do to you? Where are you?”

There’s a pause, and then you ask, “Oracle, what’s going on?”

“No!” Jason shouts. She’s probably compromised too. No one is safe, he has to find you and get you out of Gotham—

“Hood’s breathing in fear toxin,” is Oracle’s calm, if terse, reply. “Apparently he’s convinced that everyone else is an enemy and that you’re in danger.”

“Hood,” you say soothingly. Then, faltering, “Jay—Jason—”

It’s the first time you’ve ever called him by his name.

“I’m safe, Jason,” you say. “I’m okay. I promise.”

“I need to see you,” Jason says. “I—” Need you, love you, can’t lose you. But he can’t get the words around his clumsy tongue. His throat swells at the thought of confessing to you. You’ll laugh and reject him and never want to see him again.

“Oracle,” you sound distraught, “I can’t leave.”

“I knew it,” Jason hisses. You’re being held hostage. “Where are you?”

“No, Jason, I promise it’s not what you think,” you say, and there are definitely other words after that, but Jason’s ears ring. He feels fuzzy, except for a slight sting in his neck. Jason pulls out a needle and stares at it, bewildered.

Batman looms in front of him. His mouth moves, but Jason just hears static. All he knows is that’s his dad, and his dad just sedated him, and he’s talking soothingly but Jason hates needles.

Jason slumps. Batman catches him, and even though he’s two hundred pounds and not a kid anymore, hefts him into his arms. A gloved hand smooths over Jason’s hair, the way Bruce used to comfort him when he had a nightmare, and Jason’s eyes close.

“He’s down, Delphi,” is the second-to-last thing he hears Oracle say. “Go back to sleep.”

Everything goes dark.

4.

Two days ago, Jason traced a large transfer of laundered money back to Roman Sionis. He doesn’t know what the man’s planning, but whatever it is, it can’t be good. He’s been staking out the man’s base of operations for hours, but no one’s come in or out. He wishes that you were here to make it slightly more bearable, but according to Oracle, you’re undercover for a couple days and can’t be reached.

By Jason.

Oracle, of course, can access you anytime.

Jason’s getting real sick of not knowing who you are. As adults, Batman shouldn’t still be governing who knows your secret identity and who doesn’t.

He watches people move around in the building. The microphone he attached to the window showing the room that seems to host the most action picks up mundane conversations. Apart from the occasional comment about a fake bill being obvious, he can’t glean the endgame.

Sionis, unfortunately, hasn’t made an appearance in the day and a half Jason’s been camped out.

Of course, as soon as Jason thinks that, a sleek black car pulls up in front of the building.

Jason checks to make sure his camera is recording. He zooms in slightly when Sionis steps out of the left side of the car.

A woman steps out of the right. Jason can’t tell much about her from this far, but she looks young, young enough to be Sionis’s daughter. Ugh. He really hopes that’s not Sionis’s new, young wife.

There’s an air about her that he can’t quite place, but it’s enough to let him know that she’s dangerous in some way. He zooms in on the side of her face that’s visible. This is a rogue agent he’s never encountered before.

Her shoulders stiffen. She turns to say something to Sionis, and as she does, her eyes sweep the skyline.

Jason ducks behind the camera, sweating. Did she see him? How did she know to look for him? He watches through the camera feed as she says something to Sionis. He puts a possessive hand on her back and ushers her inside, though not with a sense of urgency like he would if she’d just said that the Red Hood was staked out on the roof opposite their operation.

Jason stops the recording and rewinds. Yes, right there her eyes widened. She’d definitely seen him. There’s something oddly familiar about her, but Jason can’t put his finger on it.

Jason downloads the footage and taps his comm. “Oracle?”

Her response is immediate: “Yeah, Hood?”

“I’m sending a clip your way. Can you run facial recognition on this woman, see if we get any matches?”

A couple minutes of silence go by, on his end and hers. Did the woman truly say nothing? Why wouldn’t she?

Oracle’s voice cuts into his paranoia: “What are you doing with Sionis?” Oddly enough, she sounds—defensive, or angry, or something he can’t place.

“What we always do with Sionis,” he responds. “Shut down his plots.”

“Listen,” Oracle says. “This one is handled. Trust me. You should focus on something else.”

Jason frowns. “Who’s handling it?” Tim would have said something. “Is it Cass?” She’s always held a grudge against Sionis after what he did to Stephanie.

“Yeah,” says Oracle, lying.

So who’s handling it?

Jason gets his answer when the mic picks up a new voice, presumably the woman he’d watched walk inside with Sionis. The man’s sexist enough that he rarely employs any woman goons. She laughs at something someone says, then makes a remark about Central City’s incompetent police work. Her voice is lyrical, light, and devastatingly familiar.

The voice, and the familiarity—Jason looks at the screen, and those eyes—

Jason makes a strangled noise.

“Hood,” Oracle warns. “Don’t.”

“Who is she?” he demands, even though he already knows the answer.

“Drop it,” Oracle snaps.

“You know I can’t. She’s in there with Sionis, O. She’s not safe.” He still remembers what happened to Stephanie. The haunted look in her eyes.

Roman Sionis is an unpredictable sadist, and Jason won’t leave you alone in there with him. It doesn’t matter what plot he’s up to if you and Jason arrest him, right?

It’s a simple change of plans. What could go wrong?

Jason packs up the recording equipment and checks to make sure he has all his weapons. Then he takes a deep breath.

And shoots the window.

He fires the grapple and shatters the glass feet-first, landing awkwardly with a skid in the middle of the room. About fifteen goons, Roman Sionis, and you stare at him with shock.

Several things happen at once:

Roman Sionis drags you behind one of the desks the goons are counting counterfeit bills on, Jason and the goons draw their guns in unison, and someone sets off a smoke bomb.

Bullets fly blindly. Jason aims as best he can, making sure to keep far away from the desk you’re hiding behind. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea, but it’s too late to back out now.

People shout. Someone screams with pain. They aren’t you, so Jason doesn’t care. Then you do scream, and Sionis yells, “Stop firing, you idiots!”

The stream of bullets ceases.

When the smoke clears, Jason finds himself in, oddly enough, a multiple-way standoff.

Someone whimpers on the ground, clutching a shoulder with a bullet wound in it. Sionis is unscathed, holding a gun not at Jason, but at a man with his arm around your neck and a gun to the side of your head. Jason’s heart jumps to his throat. He takes his gun off Sionis and aims it at the man, but with you acting as a human shield, there’s no good angle. The goons not hit during the skirmish can’t decide where to aim between Jason and the traitor in their midst.

“What the fuck are you doing, Brady?” asks Sionis.

“The Bats made us,” the man whimpers. “I’m not going down for this!”

“You take your hands off her,” snarls a blonde man in a suit. He’s ruffled from the skirmish, but otherwise unharmed. Odd to be so protective over you, but you are important to the boss, apparently. What kind of cover have you built with these people, for Sionis to level a gun at the man threatening your life?

“You’re a Bat now, Hood,” says Brady. “You wouldn’t let an innocent die, now would you?” He snorts. “Well. As innocent as this one can be.” And what is that supposed to mean?

The hand holding the gun to your head quivers. If his finger twitches just a bit too much—

Jason says calmly, “I’ll give you to the count of three to let her go. You won’t like what happens if I make it to four.”

“No. No way.” He shakes his head. “Here’s how this is gonna go: I’m gonna take the little girl—” He shakes you and your eyes gleam with rage, but whatever cover you’re using must not have combat skills. You could easily throw him over your shoulder, but you don’t. “And I’m gonna walk out of here. And you two are gonna stay right here. I’ll let her go in three blocks, but if I see even a hint of either one of you following me—boom.”

“That isn’t a smart idea, Brady,” says Sionis. “You know I’ll hunt you down for that. Now, I can chalk all this up to a mistake when you panicked at the sight of the Red Hood, but continue to threaten her life and it’ll be the last thing you do.”

Brady’s mouth trembles. So does his hand.

You grab it, pull down, and twist.

In a perfect world, the bullet would burrow into the floor. In a less perfect world, it would graze you.

In this world, you have Brady’s arm in both your hands, and he fires directly into your stomach.

You make the same punched-out gasp as when Jason shot you. It’s a sound he never wanted to hear again.

The shot is deafening. The mingled sound of Jason and Sionis firing at his skull are even more so.

Brady crumples to the ground. You don’t. The gun clatters out of your hands, and they go to your middle. You look up, bewildered, as blood starts to leak out of the hole in your abdomen. It covers your hands, so dark it looks black.

“No!”

Jason crosses the room in three strides, but Sionis is closer. He pulls up your shirt to take a look. It’s just a small hole, but it was shot at such a close range—

“No exit wound,” he says calmly, like you’re not bleeding out. He stabilizes you with a hand on your spine when you wobble. You’re deathly pale already, eyes unfocused. “You’re going to be alright.”

“She needs to go to a hospital,” Jason says. Oh, God, you’re shot again. It’s his fault again.

“I have my own doctors,” says Sionis. “Samuel, get Dr. Kriezak on the line. Tell him to prepare for emergency surgery.” The blonde man nods and dials immediately. “Now, are you going to arrest me, or are you going to let me save her life?”

What is she to you? Jason wants to ask, but he doesn’t have time.

“I know a better one,” he says.

Sionis snorts. “I guarantee you do not—what are you doing?”

Jason scoops you up into his arms. Your head lolls, but your eyes are open. That’s a good sign. “Stay conscious,” he orders.

Sionis levels his gun at Jason. “Why does everyone want to kidnap my daughter today?”

Daughter?

Jason hurls a Batarang. Sionis ducks, and in his distraction Jason leaps out the window.

You groan faintly when he lands on the roof. Jason taps his comm and says frantically, “Oracle, I need help.”

“What happened?” she asks immediately.

“Delphi’s shot.” Babs makes an involuntary sound. “Abdomen. I need emergency transport to the Cave. Fastest—”

“The Batmobile’s below you,” she interrupts. “I called it as soon as you decided to be an idiot.”

Jason looks down. True to her word, there it is, looking incongruous in the daylight. “Oh, thank God.”

“How bad is it?” Oracle asks when you’re situated and autopilot is on.

“Not too bad,” Jason says, voice higher than usual. You’re still bleeding. He packs gauze on the wound, then ties a bandage around your abdomen as tightly as possible. You’re still bleeding. He presses down on the wound until you groan again. You’re responsive, still. Good.

“Hey, hey,” Jason coos, brushing the hair away from your face like he used to when you were children. Your eyes are closed. “It’s going to be okay, all right? Delphi, can you hear me?” He taps your cheek until your eyes flutter open again. “There’s those pretty eyes.” How could he ever let the precise shade and shape fade in his memory? “Stay with me, okay?” he begs.

For a moment your gaze sharpens. You recognize him.

“I need you,” he confesses. “I—I—”

You pass out.

5.

DELPHI (AGENT)

IDENTITY: SIONIS, Y/N

RELATION TO SIONIS, ROMAN: DAUGHTER

Beneath that is your age, date of birth, contact information, and blood type.

Jason stares at your file on the Batcomputer screen until his eyes burn. One of the most encrypted files on the Batcomputer, hidden behind about fifty ghost files and labeled ‘Catwoman surveillance footage.’ Of course no one found it. None of Bruce’s children would dare look at that file.

It wasn’t a cover.

This whole time, you’ve been the Black Mask’s daughter.

Hours later, Alfred puts a gentle hand on Jason’s shoulder and informs him that the surgery is over. You’re stable. You’ll survive.

He collapses in the chair by your cot in the medbay. Somehow, despite the utter panic that clouds his thoughts, Jason falls asleep.

He wakes to the sound of people muttering and groans. His head aches. When he lifts it, even the dimmed Cave’s lights hurt his eyes.

Sometime during his sleep, his hand found yours. Yours is cold and limp, but the heart monitor steadily beeps to continually assert the fact of your life.

Steph and Tim stand at the foot of your bed, whispering to each other. Dick and Babs share a cot pressed right up to yours, faces tense. Babs in particular looks furious. The tirade she’ll give Jason soon is well-deserved.

As soon as they see Jason wake, Steph says, “She saved my life. When Black Mask had me. She let me go.”

“Did you know?” Jason can’t even muster up any anger.

She shrugs. “I guessed.”

Jason makes eye contact with Tim. “Did you know?”

Tim shrugs. “I had to know.” He’s as obsessive as Bruce.

“So everyone knew but me.”

The hand in Jason’s tenses. A hoarse voice croaks, “You knew?”

Jason whirls around, but looking at you is like staring into the sun; he can hardly bear your pallor and exhausted air. Dick and Babs bolt upright.

Dick exclaims your name, hands fluttering around. “What can I do? What do you need? More painkillers?”

You’re awake and staring at Stephanie, completely ignoring Dick’s fussing.

She shrugs. “You have a distinct fighting style. I wasn’t sure… I always wondered what happened to you. After you helped me. You didn’t patrol for a couple weeks.”

Your brow furrows. You look supremely uncomfortable. “I was fine.” At everyone’s disbelieving looks, you exclaim, “I was!” then wince.

“Lay back,” Jason commands without quite looking at you.

“I know how to handle him,” you say, pushing back against Jason’s hand as he tries to get you to lay down. “I’m sorry—stop it, Jay—that you were there so long. I got there as fast as I could.”

“I know,” Steph says softly.

“Pillows,” Dick says abruptly.

Jason goes to get pillows. Wincing, you sit up so he can put them behind you. You sit back with a relieved sigh, now upright and able to look them all in the eye. He slumps into his chair, scowling, ignoring you when you try to catch his eye.

Tim says, “That’s why you always kept your distance. You thought we’d hate you when we found out.”

“Well, don’t you?” You look around at them, confused. “I’ve been reaping the benefits of my father’s cruelty for years. No matter what I—what anyone does, the justice system won’t prosecute him, and Arkham can’t hold him.” You’re heated now. “I could have stopped it all. I could have killed him at any time, but I’m a coward. There. That’s why you should hate me.”

“He’s your father,” Dick says softly.

You look away. “That doesn’t matter.”

Babs touches your hand. You let out a shuddering breath. “Roman Sionis may be your father,” she says softly, “but you’ve been risking your life to make Gotham safer for years. We wouldn’t have stopped half as many of his plots without your help.”

You’re saved from responding by Bruce staggering into the Batcave, haggard and rumpled. “Why is Black Mask threatening to wage war on me?” He spots you, unmasked and obviously fresh out of surgery, and says, “Oh.”

“I have to go back.” You wince, sitting up again.

“No,” Jason says immediately, looking at Bruce.

“I have to,” you insist. “People will die if I don’t.”

“He’s a monster,” Jason tells Bruce. “You can’t send her back there.”

“Jason.” Your hand touches his. It’s like an electric shock. “I’ll be fine.” A touch of bitterness enters your voice when you say, “I’m a very well-kept pet.”

No matter where Jason looks, he sees no support. For the first time since you woke up, he looks at you. Voice cracking, he says, “But I—”

Everyone looks away.

Jason’s a coward.

“I almost lost you.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I can’t.”

You blink. Your mouth parts, but nothing comes out. Jason thinks that might be enough. You might understand without him saying the words. Hope swells in his chest like a bubble.

“I’m sorry.”

The bubble of hope pops.

You look to Bruce. “Will you take me home?”

+1

For two months, you’re radio silent. No one, not even Babs, hears from you. The only reason Jason hasn’t lost his mind is that he checks every cemetery’s records in Gotham daily. No one matching your description has died in the last two months.

Of course, that’s almost worse. Who knows what Sionis is putting you through?

All this time, all these years, Jason was sending you home to a monster. He can’t stop kicking himself.

He assumes the knock on the door is one of his siblings running from Bruce’s incessant mother henning. Jason isn’t prepared at all to open it and see your face. Well. Covered by a scarf and big sunglasses, looking like the rich girl he’s discovered you are. But your face.

You smile tremulously. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Jason says dumbly.

“Can I come in?”

He’s in the middle of the doorway. “Oh! Yeah.” He moves out of the way and shuts it behind you, doing a quick sweep of the hall as he does, just to make sure no one followed you.

Once inside, you pull off the scarf and sunglasses, and there you are.

Your bare face. He’s only seen it twice before. The first was from far away. The second was just after you nearly died and looked like it.

He feels like a bolt of lightning just struck him dead. You’re more than stunning, you’re striking. You suck up all the light in the room.

Jason feels lightheaded.

You cough.

Why is this so awkward?

“Hi,” you say again. “Um, I got your address from—well, nevermind. I wanted to let you know that I’m fine; Babs told me that you’ve been pretty frazzled. Dad had me on pretty tight lockdown while I recovered, but see—” You pull up the hem of your shirt. Just the flash of your bare midsection is enough to make his mouth go dry. “Dad has some pretty good plastic surgeons on standby. The skin grafts didn’t even leave a seam.”

It’s true. Your skin is completely unmarked, even after years of crimefighting. Jason wonders how you explained it to your father every time. If Sionis even knew.

Jason, on the other hand, is riddled with scars and pockmarks where he fished bullets or shrapnel out himself and didn’t bother to waste the time stitching the wounds up.

Next to you, he looks like Frankenstein’s monster.

You take a deep breath. “I thought you should hear this from me. In person.”

“Wait, before you say anything.” Jason had a lot of time to think over the last two months. He can’t afford any more cowardice. He can’t afford any more hesitation.

“No, really, let me go first.”

“Y/N, if you don’t let me say my piece, I’m afraid I’ll chicken out. Please.”

You close your eyes as if pained. “Jason…”

“You’ve always been my best friend,” he rushes out. “But—and you don’t have to feel the same, but what we do is dangerous, and I can’t keep putting it off—”

“Jason, please—”

He raises his voice and plows on. “You’re the most important person in my life, you’ve always been the most important person in my life, and you deserve to know how I feel about you. Y/N, I—”

“I’m engaged,” you say quickly.

The words don’t compute. “What?”

You reach into the pocket of your coat and pull out a ring with a hugely impractical diamond. You slip it onto your ring finger. “I’m engaged. I’ve been engaged for two years.”

Jason feels like you kicked him in the chest. He would rather that you had. “What are you talking about?”

“It was arranged between our fathers,” you say, twisting your scarf in your hands. “They wanted the wedding immediately, but I convinced them that I needed an education first.” You let out a slightly hysterical laugh. “No idea how I got them to agree to that.”

Jason narrows his eyes. “It’s that blond man, isn’t it?” Of course he wasn’t a regular goon. He was wearing a suit!

“Yes,” you say, still twisting your scarf. “Samuel. He’s a decent man—”

“He works with Black Mask.”

“So do I,” you say sharply, “and anyway, it’s his father, really. I don’t want you to worry about me, all right? Samuel is kind. He’ll be a good husband.”

“Not for you!”

“Please, you’re making this harder.” A seam pops in the scarf, and you look down, surprised. “Jason, think about it. I know what you were going to say, and that would make things so much worse. Be rational. If I ran away from my father, I couldn’t stay in Gotham.”

“We could go—”

“You can’t leave! These people need you! You care about Crime Alley, you want to do good for the people that live there. If you ran away with me, you’d regret it forever, and I don’t want a marriage filled with resentment.” You brace your shoulders. “I can’t sneak out as Delphi anymore, not with Samuel sleeping next to me.”

Another man sleeping next to you. Jason can hardly bear to think about it.

“But I can do work from the inside. I’ll do my best. But I can’t see you anymore.”

“Why?” Jason asks weakly.

“Haven’t you figured it out yet? I may be a liar and a criminal, but I’m not a cheater. I won’t cross that line. And I would, if I’m around you. Or I would want to. But if I have to get married, it’s going to be a good marriage. I won’t be unfaithful.”

Jason’s mind works a mile a minute, but he can’t find a way around this. There has to be a way. “I should have said something sooner. You don’t know how long—”

“Probably as long as I for you.” You stare at the floor. “Goodbye, Jason.”

“Wait,” Jason says desperately when you turn to leave. “Y/N. Don’t go. I—I love you.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Jason realizes just how easy they are to say. That he should have been saying them for years. He should have told you every minute of every day: I love you, I love you, I love you.

“I love you too,” you say softly. “But one day you’ll realize that you’ve forgotten all about me, and I hope that day comes soon. I want you to be happy, Jason.”

“You make me happy.”

You make a sound that’s half-sob, half-laugh. “You’re the only friend I ever had,” you confess.

“Please don’t do this.”

He watches your back expand and deflate with your breathing. Your hand rests on the doorknob, but you don’t turn it. “Jason, close your eyes.”

He can’t watch you walk out of his life forever. He closes his eyes.

Your footsteps are soundless, so the hand that winds through his hair is a shock. You pull down, and puffs of air wash over his face when you murmur, “Just once.”

A pair of warm lips press chastely against his own.

On instinct, Jason’s hands rise to cup your cheeks, but you slip between his fingers like a ghost.

By the time Jason opens his eyes, you’re gone.

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I had actually so much fun writing this I wrote it all in one day. If you enjoyed reading it, maybe check out my ko-fi to help me out while I slog through grad school?

[guilty-pleasures21]

The last of the real ones

No context, no explanations. Just words and emotions spilling onto my keyboard. Listen to the songs for the full experience.

An only child of the universe

The waves

Wet concrete pt II

This whole damn city

Does your therapist know?

Too good to be true

The only one

Warnings: descriptions of grief and a brief reference to suicidal ideation.

----------------------------------------------------------

“Just tell me, tell me, tell me I am the only one … even if it's not true.”

     He was careful to keep silent as he got up in the middle of the night and started putting his gear back on. Neither one of them had managed to change the mind of the other over the past few nights, but their need for each other - their desperation - outweighed their frustration with one another. Jason buckled up his belt and twisted his head back to steal another glance at his beautiful best friend … and she met his gaze with those magical dark eyes he could draw from memory by now. She watched him silently, knowing it was useless to try to argue with him, but her lips twisted down at the ends anyway. Jason sighed as his heart squeezed at the lovely pout on her face and walked back over to her, leaning forward on the bed. 

     She sat up and reached for him quickly, cupping his cheeks to bring his mouth to hers. X kissed him desperately, drinking up the taste of him - memorising it until there was no space left in her brain for anything else … Then he pulled away from her and straightened to gaze down at her. His eyes darkened as they travelled across her body, lingering for a moment on the soft curves of her breasts … then he turned and left without another word. X curled her knees to her chest and leaned back against the headboard as the panic began to seep out of her heart again, crawling through her veins and turning her blood to ice. So, she got up, put on her vigilante outfit and left to anywhere but her empty apartment.

     Jason surveyed the building before him: the steel-encased windows, the towering cement walls, the watch lights and cameras and guards monitoring every inch of the Asylum to make sure no one got out … But what they didn’t count on was someone trying to get in. Jason grappled over the wall, launching himself onto the nearest rooftop, then he dashed across the buildings, following the blueprints lighting up a corner of his screen. It wasn’t hard to find the wing he was looking for and soon, he was diving down the elevator shaft, heading straight for the sub-level where his target awaited him. The adrenaline rushed through his veins as he ran through the corridor, spurring him on towards his vengeance and he almost forgot the look his beautiful best friend had given him when he’d left her behind. Again. Jason forced the memory out of his mind and shoved it into a box that he buried deep, deep down in the recesses of his soul … but he could feel it pressing against his heart, begging to be let out. But she’d understood, Jason reasoned with himself, slowing down as he approached the door at the hallway, she’d understood that he needed this closure, this … justice. The justice that no one else had thought him important enough to deserve. He looked up at the door, so impossibly large before him, then he shot the lock and stepped inside. 

     “Jo-” Jason cut himself off when he came face to face with the creature that had haunted his every waking thought and his every sleeping nightmare ever since he’d been dragged out of his grave. Because he wasn’t the invincible, horrifying monster that Jason remembered. He was … pathetic. Strapped to a wheelchair, unable to move anything but his eyes - bloodshot eyes that followed Jason warily as he stepped closer. 

     “Nightingale …” Jason kept his eyes fixed on his greatest enemy even as the familiar gruff voice sounded from behind him. She’d done this: his best friend, his love, his soulmate … his nightingale in the middle of the storm. Bruce continued. “She said she’d stay alive … if only to make sure that he never hurt anyone again. She wanted him to suffer as much as she had - as much as he’d made both of you suffer. I just didn’t know … that this was what she’d meant when she’d said it.” 

     Jason bent over and studied The Joker’s face, unsure what to feel. A number of old scars were scattered across his pale skin - wounds that would never heal completely; wounds that he himself had become too painfully familiar with. Had she beat him then? Battered him to within an inch of his life, striking the exact places she knew would leave him forever incapacitated without granting him the blissful relief of death? Jason clenched his fists by his sides and took another step towards The Joker, prompting him to tilt his head back in an attempt to continue to hold his gaze. The villain narrowed his eyes in curiosity, trying to look past the cloudy screen of his helmet, so Jason reached up and pulled it off all together. It took a moment, but The Joker’s eyes widened with recognition when he realised who stood before him. He wriggled in his chair, incoherent squawks spilling from his lips as he tried to vocalise his thoughts, and unexpectedly, Jason felt the fury dissipate from his body. He exhaled sharply as a sense of relief overtook him - relief that he’d never hoped to be granted in this lifetime - and he put his helmet back on before turning around to face Bruce. 

     He, too, looked older, battered by the time that had passed between them. But where Jason guessed that he and X looked so much more jaded - so much more angry - the only father he’d ever known looked … exhausted. They stared at one another in silence, watching, waiting, yelling … apologising. Pain, so much pain, so much pain spilling out every pore of each of them, flooding the room and filling up the space between them. Bruce opened his mouth, looking like he was about to say something - like the words ‘I’m sorry’ were hovering on the tip of his tongue, ready to plunge into the endless chasm between them … but he thought better of it, seeming to realise that they would mean absolutely nothing to the boy he’d failed so miserably. “When you’re ready … you know where I’ve been waiting.” 

     ‘I’ve been waiting.’ And suddenly, the void between them didn’t seem so endless anymore. Jason sucked in a breath, finally realising that he was sick of the pain - of the anger, of the fight, fight, fighting. All. The damn. Time. Especially now, when he’d learned about sweetness and love and good and warmth and oh, god, the nice - the nice, nice, niceness of it all. He nodded at Bruce in acknowledgement and his father reciprocated the gesture before vanishing back into the darkness. Jason twisted back around to The Joker, allowing himself one last look at him … then he turned and left it all behind. 

     She held her knees to her chest and traced meaningless circles in the dirt. 

     ‘He’s … He’s been returned to us, Bruce,’ X had told him, the words barely a whisper from her mouth. ‘He’s back. He’s here. He’s with us.’

     Bruce had remained silent, a thoughtful expression on his face as he’d taken in her words. He’d suspected that the Red Hood was his lost son, dragged back into the cruel world that had so ruthlessly abandoned him, and that he would find him eventually to punish him for his failures. But he wouldn’t cower this time: his son needed him - his precious and soft and good and nice son - and this time, he would be sure to be there for him. 

     X sighed at the memory - at the not knowing of what had been going on in Bruce’s mind; what would happen when Jason finally confronted him. But suddenly, the hairs rose on her arm and she shot up and spun on her heel to find … him. Her Jason. Right there behind her, his shoulder slumped in defeat, his posture … exhausted. She rushed forward, meaning to comfort him - to hold him and cling onto him and keep him with her no matter how hard he tried to fight her - but Jason sank to his knees before her. 

     He looked up at her, the moonlight spilling onto her hair, lighting her up in the darkness of the city … and for the first time in all the lives he’d lived, Jason Todd prayed. He gazed up at his best friend in silent worship, thanking and apologising and praying at the feet of the woman who might not have raised him from the dead, but who had brought him back to life. Because it had never been the thought of revenge that had kept him going, not justice, no. The only thing that had kept him sane when he’d been dragged out of his grave, the only thing that had forced him to turn around and put one foot in front of the other every time he found himself standing on the edge of a rooftop and gazing over the edge … had been her. His best friend, his love, the other half of his very soul. His home. 

     She fell to the ground beside him and wrapped him up in her arms, rocking him back and forth soothingly. Jason lifted his arms to reciprocate the gesture, burying his face in her chest and hugging her back just as tightly. X didn’t know what had happened or what he needed from her, but then … then he sniffled. Jason had laughed when they’d reunited, gotten angry when she’d disagreed with him, he’d kept his emotions locked up in such an impossibly impenetrable box … but now … now, it seemed that he was ready to finally let go of all of them. 

     He held her close as he cried, letting her reassure him and take care of him - no one had ever taken care of him before - until finally, finally, there was nothing left to weigh him down anymore. Jason took X’s hands in his, pulling her to her feet in front of him, and studied her carefully. How could she love him … so completely. So fully and entirely, like he wasn’t apart from her, but a piece of her - one she’d been fighting like hell to try to survive without. Jason released his grip on her to pull off his helmet as another stream of tears trickled down his face and immediately, his best friend’s hands were there, brushing his tears away as quickly as they came.  

     He looked … He looked sorry, but also … relieved. Relieved like he’d found … peace. X stretched onto her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, stroking his hair softly while he calmed himself down. Jason tightened his grip on her, hugging her so fiercely that she couldn’t think or feel anything but him - him, him, him. Her Jason, her precious, lovely, sweet and tender Jason. Jason pressed his lips into her hair and spoke clearly so she wouldn’t miss his words. “I love you, X.” 

     She sucked in a breath, pausing her movements to digest his words. Then she slid her fingers back into his hair and brushed the strands reassuringly. 

     “I know,” she sighed, all the forgiveness in the world contained in those two words. And finally, it was like he didn’t need to beg anymore - beg to be loved, beg to be wanted, beg, beg, beg for just a scrap of human decency. Because everything he’d ever done, everything he’d always been, all of it had always been enough for her. He’d never needed to be anyone else but Jason Todd … because Jason Todd was all she’d ever wanted. 

     “Can we go home? My nightingale?” Jason asked, his voice soft and relaxed and easy - finally, finally, some ease for her beloved Jason. X pressed a kiss to the side of his head, then straightened to meet his gaze. 

     “Yes,” she agreed, her lips curling into a smile. “We can, my love.”

😭😭😭😭😭

Thank you

Tags: @stormz369

[isavulpix]

Late Nights

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

I wrote this after watching a lot of sad DC edits in TikTok, I need more happy edits about the Batfam and Dickkory. This was mostly for funsies so sorry if it's shit.

Warnings: English isn’t my first language so there will be errors, and characters may be OOC. Fluff? Fluff.

Isavulpix masterlist

It was late at night, and you had a bad night after stopping Mr. Zsasz from killing some innocent people, you guessed they were tourists because who walks in Gotham streets at night with no protection? The good thing was that the night was over, and you could head back home to wash the day off.

Entering the apartment, your gaze falls on the dirty boots beside your shoe rack, and then the black leather jacket on the couch. You sigh annoyed and move the items to their respective places, how many times will you need to remind him of these things? You walk into your room knowing that he is there and as much as he annoys you, you can’t help but feel happy that, for a change, he is the one home first.

Inside the room, you see the familiar figure of the man you love sprawled on your bed reading a book. It must be that special edition Jane Austin book he ordered some months ago. “How did patrol go?” He asks you while turning a page of the book and you walk behind a folding screen to undress from your suit.

“It was fine, nothing I couldn’t handle” You walk to your bathroom to take a quick shower. When you come back, he moves your suit to where you usually place it, and you can't help but roll your eyes. “If only you did that with your stuff” You smile when he wraps his hands and arms around your form. He was saying something, but you were more occupied robbing his body heat, it was a cold night and Jason's big form was enough of a heater for you.

What makes you come back to reality is the sudden push. “Jason!” You groan when you feel his body waiting over you. “Ugh! Scoot over, you're too heavy” You try to move away but he tightens his hold so you it was more you moving like a wiggly worm.

“No, now shut up and stop moving. I'm trying to relax” You scoff at his response, but do as he says, letting him get comfy. That’s how he ended up with his head between your breasts, arms around your waist, and one of your hands caressing his hair. You liked to twirl the white strikes of hair he had, sometimes even braiding them.

 “I guess work was good today since you’re here early”

“Mm…it was fine, nothing I can't handle” You roll your eyes when he uses the exact words you used earlier so you tug the hair you were twirling.

“Very funny, Todd” Jason moves his head up, now his chin resting between your breasts while smirking.

“I know, sweetheart maybe I should quit and become a comedian” He leaves a kiss where his chin was resting.

“Please, don’t. I love you, but not enough to maintain you after your comedian career crashes, plus you would grow too bored without some action in your life” You could feel your cheeks heating up when you feel him smiling against the skin of your chest. “Not that kind of action!” Now you can feel the heat of your cheeks expanding to your ears.

Jason only laughs at your embarrassment. “Really?” He moves his hands to touch your hot cheeks. “Because this is telling something different” Jason smiles when you groan and try again to move away from him, but he doesn’t let you. He wraps his arms yet again around you but this time you two lay facing each other.

“Your so annoying” You mumble when you feel one of his hands grabbing your ass, but you move your arms to hug him closer.

[fablehaven-rulez]

This is so cute

You're going to be okay, Jay (Jason Todd x GN!reader)

Warnings: no proof reading, depressed!Jason, angst / comfort

"What will happen when you'll realise I'm a monster?" Jason whispered to your sleeping form. "What will happen when you'll realise I don't deserve you? I'm not good for you. At some point, I'm going to drag you down. I'm a mistake in your existence, like I'm a problem for everyone else. You're too good to me, you're my sunshine, when I only deserve violence and darkness. Why are you there with me?"

Unknown to him, you were actually wide awake. You stayed silent, trying to understand what your boyfriend meant with all those crazy words. You knew that his own mind was cruel to him, but you never thought how hurt he truly was. He seemed so strong, so powerful - and he was - but he was also a lost child, a wounded dog, a wandering and sad soul.

"I don't deserve you." He continued after a little while, as he carefully stroked your face "I will ruin you like I always do with the people around me. I don't need to burn bridges, people do it for me or they let the bridges crumble down on their own. You are so bright, so perfect. You deserve a good guy. And I'm just so broken"

You softly turned to fully face him and you kissed his fingers, before pressing his palm against your cheek. He tensed up a little as he realised you heard him.

He felt ashamed. He felt pathetic.

"Hey baby, don't think such awful things about yourself." you whispered back and before he could reply anything you kept talking: "I wish you'd see yourself the same way I see you. You are so important to me. I've never felt so happy with anyone else before, because I know you're trustworthy. And I need you to understand that you are not responsible for the bad things that happened to you, my love."

"But I'm responsible for how much I fuck everything up" Jason teared up as he moved impossibly closer to your warm body. No matter how much the voice inside his head told him he should disappear from your life - for your own good - he couldn't stop himself from snuggling closer. "I will hurt you one day, and I'll never be able to live with it"

"I trust you with our relationship, with my body and soul. You take a good care of me. You're always so soft to me, touching me like you were afraid to hurt me. But I'm not made of glass. Let me take care of you too, and we'll be alright. Yes, everything will be alright" you promised as Jason silently cried into your neck.

You held him close as you stroked his hair and whispered sweet nothings into his ear until he calmed down.

"Nothing will ever happen to you" he promised you and you smiled

"I know, big boy. I'm safe with you and you're safe with me, yeah?" you hummed and he nodded before taking possession of your lips.

You were the best thing that ever happened to him.

--

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